Page 35 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons (Empire of Vengeance #4)
By the time we reached the army, full darkness had fallen, and what we saw below defied every assumption I'd made about warfare.
Lit by dragon fire, the wide valley before us looked like Inferi on earth.
Probably believing the valley would lead them through the mountains, Cassius had clearly pressed forward under attack, meaning to turn and make a stand, but geography had not been on his side, and the Talfen trap had been sprung perfectly.
What had appeared to be a long valley, was in fact a basin, surrounded on three sides by sharp jagged mountains.
Probably a sight of great natural beauty before tonight, the valley was now a cauldron of violence and supernatural terror.
Cassius's army was pinned against the valley's back wall, their formations broken and scattered by attacks that seemed to come from the darkness itself.
I could see the shapes of Talfen warriors moving like ghosts through the chaos, striking hard and fast before melting back into shadows that shouldn't have been able to conceal anything, and everywhere, wheeling and diving through the valley like hunting hawks, were free dragons.
Dozens of them, their movements fluid and unpredictable compared to the rigid patterns of our collared mounts.
They struck without warning, breathing fire into packed formations before climbing beyond the reach of any response.
Great flares of dragon fire lit up the battlefield accompanied by screams of horror and pain.
I watched one of our enslaved dragons try to engage a Talfen mount, only to be outmanoeuvred so completely it was almost embarrassing.
The free dragon moved like liquid fire, every motion precise and purposeful, while our beast could only follow the limited tactical patterns programmed into its collar.
"Sir," one of my riders called out, his voice tight with barely controlled panic. "Orders?"
I stared down at the carnage below, my mind struggling to process the scope of the disaster. This wasn't a battle—it was a systematic slaughter carried out by an enemy that wielded powers I'd thought were myth and legend.
The smart thing would be to turn around, fly back to the capital, and report that the expedition was lost. Eleven dragons wouldn't make a difference in that hell below—we'd just be adding to the casualty count.
But as I watched Imperial soldiers fighting desperately against impossible odds, I realized I couldn't abandon them.
These were men I'd served with, trained with, sworn oaths alongside.
Whatever was happening in that valley, whatever dark magic the Talfen had brought to bear, I couldn't simply fly away and leave our people to die.
But the dragons were only part of the nightmare.
The true horror was happening on the ground.
I saw them now with my own eyes—the living shadows.
They coiled from the earth, amorphous and blacker than any natural night.
A tendril of pure void wrapped around a legionary's legs, dragging him screaming into a darkness that swallowed him whole.
I saw another shadow solidify into a blade of obsidian nothingness, cleaving through an Imperial shield as if it were parchment.
This wasn't war. This was an exorcism, and we were the demons being cast out.
A horn blast cut through the din, followed by a series of coded flashes from Cassius’s command post. The order was relayed by a frantic signalman. “North Wing! Engage the Talfen dragons over the western ridge! Break their aerial assault! Create an opening for the Seventh Legion!”
A suicide run. He was ordering my green recruits to punch a hole through a flight of veteran, free-thinking dragons, a tactic meant to draw their fire and create a diversion. He was sacrificing my wing.
I looked at the terrified faces of my riders, warriors who had been singing songs of glory just that morning. Then my eyes found Livia. She was watching me, her expression unreadable, her hand resting near the hilt of her sword. She was ready to die for a cause I was being forced to fight against.
My father’s bargain. The dungeons. The child’s face.
“North Wing, on me!” The words were torn from my throat, raw and broken. “Engage!”
And with my command echoing in the chaos, we dove, a cascade of silver and blue plunging directly into Inferi.
As we began our descent toward the valley floor, I caught sight of something that made my blood run cold.
A figure stood on one of the high ridges overlooking the battlefield, barely visible against the starlit sky.
But even at this distance, I could see the unnatural way shadows seemed to flow around him, and the faint white glow of eyes that pierced the darkness like stars.
A shadow mage. One of the beings whose very existence I'd dismissed as superstition only hours before.
And as our small formation dove toward the hell below, I realized that everything I thought I knew about warfare had just become obsolete.
The frustration that had been building in my chest for days finally crystallized into bitter certainty.
This battle had come upon us before I'd managed to think of any way to avoid it, before I could find some diplomatic solution or strategic alternative that might spare both sides the horror I was witnessing.
All my careful planning, all my attempts to minimize casualties and find honour in an dishonourable war—none of it mattered now.
We were committed to this path of violence, and there was no turning back.
As we swept lower over the valley, the carnage became even more horrific in detail.
I could see individual soldiers being torn apart by tendrils of living shadow, watch free dragons incinerating entire formations with surgical precision, hear the screams of men facing death by supernatural means they couldn't comprehend or fight.
But it was movement near the centre of the trapped formation that caught my attention and sparked a desperate idea.
"There!" I called out, pointing toward a cluster of figures huddled behind an overturned supply wagon. "The slaves and servants from the baggage train!"
Even in the chaos and darkness, I could make out familiar faces—Marcus with his gladiator's build, Antonius clutching what looked like a broken spear shaft, dozens of others who'd been reduced to helpless spectators in their own potential deaths.
They were unarmed, defenceless, trapped in the middle of a supernatural battle with no way to protect themselves.
"Ascleius! Teron!" I barked at two of my riders whose dragons carried the heaviest loads of salvaged weapons. "Get down there and arm those people. Everyone deserves the right to defend themselves."
"Sir?" Teron's voice carried obvious confusion. "They're just slaves—"
"They're people," I cut him off sharply. "Get those weapons to them. Darius, Vex—provide cover while they work."
It was Valeria who voiced the objection I'd expected. "Commander, why risk ourselves and our dragons defending worthless slaves? We should be focusing on military targets, not wasting time on—"
"Nobody is worthless," I said, my voice carrying the full authority of my rank and the cold fury that had been building in my chest since this nightmare began.
"Every person in that valley has the right to defend their own life.
And if you say another word about it, if we live through this, I'll have you discharged from service and see how you like being on the other side of that collar. "
The shocked silence that followed was broken only by the sound of wing beats and distant screaming.
Valeria's face had gone white with either rage or fear, but she said nothing more.
Around the formation, I could see the other young nobles reassessing their assumptions about their supposedly weak-willed commander.
It was then that I caught Livia's eye, and saw something there that made the knot in my chest loosen just slightly. She was smiling—not the polite, diplomatic expression I'd grown accustomed to, but something genuine and warm that suggested approval, perhaps even respect.
At least someone thinks I'm doing the right thing, I thought grimly.
"Teron, Ascleius—execute the drop," I ordered. "Everyone else, defensive formation around the landing zone. Let's give those people a fighting chance."
As two of our dragons peeled off to make their dangerous descent into the heart of the battle, I allowed myself one moment to hope that we might be able to save at least some of the people trapped in this chaos.
It wasn't much of a victory, arming a few dozen slaves in the middle of a supernatural massacre, but it was something.
And sometimes, when the world was ending around you, something was all you could manage.