The demon assault began at dusk, when the dying light made accurate archery difficult and shadows lengthened across the battlefield.
Damien stood on the eastern wall beside Lyristae, watching three thousand demons organize into attack formations with disturbing military precision. This wasn't the chaotic assault of mindless beasts – this was coordinated warfare.
"They're better organized than the capital attacks," he observed.
"They've had time to prepare." Lyristae's hand rested on the stone battlement, knuckles white. "Two days of probing our defenses, learning our patterns, identifying weak points. This won't be random – they'll hit us exactly where we can least afford it."
A horn sounded from the demon lines. The front ranks began their advance.
"Here they come," Damien said unnecessarily. Around them, Valdaran soldiers tensed, weapons ready, fear and determination mixing on their faces.
