Once again, Eva and Perry picked their way through the dead reeds and broken timbers jutting from the mire until they reached the charred trees. Eva carried her sword ready in one hand and her shield in the other. Perry gripped his staff firmly with both hands.
Eva walked ahead with her shield before her. Perry made no attempt to stop her. The mist thickened, nearly obscuring the iron darts littering the ground.
Perhaps Apollyon wouldn’t be waiting for them this time. Then she and Perry could continue on through Vanity. With any luck, they’d reach the shepherds in the Delectable Mountains before nightfall.
No sooner had the blood-stained rocks come into view than flames hurtled toward her. A loud clang of iron against steel rang across the valley.
“Not this time,” she growled.
Eva could barely make out Apollyon’s flaming silhouette through the mist. With a single bound, he cleared the valley, landing only a few feet before them.
The ground shook beneath his landing, and billows of dust swept over them. Eva braced behind her shield, her boots holding firm against the torrent.
When the dust settled, Apollyon stood before them, towering, simply watching. Her sword shone with a brilliant silver light, casting its radiance across the valley.
“Bold Pilgrim.” His blazing eyes bored into her. “I swear by my infernal dwelling, you will go no further.” He sprang into the air and brought both claws crashing down. Eva leaped back and they slammed into the ground where she had stood.
As he straightened, Eva swung her sword with all her might, a trail of light following in its wake. It struck his scales with a solid blow, but to no more effect than her daggers had the last time. He slashed with his right claws. She dodged—but his left caught her shield. The impact shuddered up her arm.
She swung again. Apollyon leaped back—then staggered as the crack of Perry’s staff rang through the valley.
“Eva, his foot!”
She brought her sword down on his foot. Apollyon crashed to one knee. Perry’s staff struck again. Smoke and sparks poured from his sides. Eva threw up her shield against the shower.
Apollyon rose slowly to his feet, strode to a dead tree, studied it for a moment, then tore it from the ground with a single tug.
“Well, you are of passing skill.” He rested the charred trunk across his chest. “Perhaps it is true what they say about you.” He backhanded it into her shield. Her arm went numb.
He raised the makeshift club high overhead and held it there for what seemed an eternity. She rolled as he brought it crashing down. Not fast enough. His reach was too long. The blow glanced off her helmet, sending her sprawling.
She scrambled to her feet, raising her shield before her. Darts hammered against it in quick succession.
Must close the distance. Keeping back was just as dangerous—perhaps more so—than fighting at close quarters. Besides, she’d lost sight of Perry. She couldn’t leave him to fight Apollyon alone. Apollyon stood waiting, wings spread wide as she advanced. Once again, Perry’s staff struck.
Apollyon spun toward Perry, his tail slamming into Eva’s breastplate before the tip lashed against her face. Her teeth rattled from the blow.
Eva smiled grimly as memories of Cerberus’s tail flashed through her mind. Eva the Dragon-Slayer, indeed. She seized Apollyon’s tail and brought her sword down.
He swung the tree in a slow arc toward her. Time seemed to slow. Too far to jump away. Too heavy to take another hit. This time she rolled toward him, beneath the tree, and out to his side.
She slashed at the fur before her. He spun faster than she would have thought possible and struck with his claws. Her breastplate absorbed the first blow, but the second caught her before she could recover. She went flying.
She reached for her shield. For her sword. Gone. Apollyon strode toward her, the ground trembling beneath each step. His jaws hung open, lava dripping from wicked fangs.
Perry stepped between Eva and Apollyon. He did not flinch. Apollyon came to a halt before him. Then he laughed—a deep rumbling sound.
“Perry, no,” she gasped. She sprang to her feet, her eyes darting wildly for her sword.
Golden light blazed from Perry’s upraised fist. His ring! Could that be fear in Apollyon’s eyes? Hope surged through her.
Something flashed in Apollyon’s grip, and he struck in a heartbeat. The golden light flickered out, and a scream of unbearable agony tore from Perry. He dropped to his knees clutching his arm. Then he collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.
Eva’s dagger was in her hand. She dashed toward Perry. Apollyon bent, scooped him up, slung him over his shoulder, and turned away.
She threw herself at Apollyon, heedless of the sparks and smoke.
“No, damn it!” she screamed. “Face me, you coward!”
Again and again, she thrust her dagger at him. Apollyon kept walking.
She reached as high as she could, slid her dagger between his scales, and drove her palm against the hilt. Apollyon roared and tore himself free. She fell to the ground. With a single bound, Apollyon vanished into the Abyss below.
Eva fell to her knees. No. Not again. She thought of the Cross. Willed time to reset. Nothing.
“Think of the Cross, Perry!” she cried into the void. Only the moans of the damned answered. She stared helplessly into the flames below.
No. No time for despair. She would descend again. This time she would succeed. This time she would rescue him.
She retraced her steps to where they had fought. She found her shield and stooped to pick it up. A plan was already taking shape. Perry told her, were their places reversed, he would ask for help. That’s exactly what she would do.
A few steps away lay her sword. Beside it…
The color drained from Eva’s face. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her hands began to shake. Her lips trembled. A low wail escaped her.
She reached down and tenderly picked up Perry’s severed hand. The golden ring of lapis lazuli still rested upon his finger.
She pressed it to her cheek, then lifted it to her lips, kissing it again and again.
“Oh, Perry… my love,” she sobbed. “Oh Perry… Oh Perry. What have they done to you?”
