Томас Рейд - The Crystal Mountain

The half-fiend stepped closer to get a good look at the captured thing. Time, torment, or both had warped Micus further. He no longer bore any resemblance to an angel. If Vhok had not seen Micus before his transformation, he would not have guessed at his celestial origin.

Micus's skin had turned a mottled purple color and had begun to fleck off in places, leaving gaping wounds that

festered a yellowish green color. His face bulged in odd places, and his eyes, once such an intense black color, gleamed red in the shadows of the cage. His dark hair had grown long and unruly and dripped with sweat as he thrashed around inside his cage.

At the level of his gut, Myshik's beady gaze still fixated on him, with its maw opening and snapping shut eagerly over and over again. Vhok saw no sign of anything greater than animal instinct in that stare. For a moment, he imagined what it must have been like for the angel to discover he had been fused with the half-dragon. He suppressed a shudder.

"We caught him shortly after you and your companions became my guests," Vhissilka said. "He has gone mad with rage. He shouts your name from time to time, even though this is the first moment he's set eyes on you since we seized him."

"He blames us — me, in particular — for his condition. He thinks I led him into a trap just so he could be transformed into such a thing."

"His mind is nearly gone," the marilith said. "We have made much sport with him and broken whatever celestial part of him might have remained. Now he only wants to kill."

Vhok had a sudden, titillating thought. "It is unfortunate that he appears so uncontrollable. What a nice, ironic surprise it would be to spring him on our foes today."

"That's precisely why I brought you here," Vhissilka said. "You knew him before. Could he lead us to where the angels' defenses will be weakest today?"

Oh, you clever girl, Vhok thought. "If his memory of the place is intact," he said. "But the question of control remains. How could we possibly force him to attack the celestials instead of our own troops?"

Vhissilka smiled. "If you look closely, you will see that the creature now bears a steel collar."

Vhok tilted his head down and spied the circlet of metal surrounding Micus's throat.

"This," the marilith said, holding up a bracelet that matched the collar, "is the means to dominate the creature before you. However," she added with caution, "once I place it on your arm, you cannot remove it save severing the limb, unless the abomination dies."

Vhok took the bracelet from Vhissilka and examined it. It was a simple length of metal that appeared to have been crudely hammered into a rounded shape. The ends did not quite meet, providing just enough room for someone to slip the item over a hand. He held it up to the angry red light of the sky and considered.

"Are you offering this to me?" he asked. "A secret weapon in addition to leading your honor guard?"

The marilith smirked. "It is Lord Axithar's wish that you command the creature. He thought it fitting, given how much the creature hates you and how the very heavens from which he came will find him anathema."

Vhok chuckled. He already had another idea, an even better way to make use of Micus. "I accept," he said, and he slipped the bracelet over his arm.

The band of metal closed, tightening itself and reforming its shape until it gripped the cambion's wrist snugly. When it stopped altering, it was tight but not uncomfortable.

Vhok could feel the link between himself and Micus that had formed. He felt the hostility from the ruined angel, the rage and despair battering against his mind, but the link held the forces at bay. The cambion sent a mental command to

Micus to quiet down and, even though he felt the resentment, the abomination stopped outwardly raging, standing still and easy within the confines of his cage.

"Oh, this will serve nicely," Vhok said, delighted. "I can think of many things to do with him."

"Your orders are to command him to lead us to the Houses weakest points. He will know how they will attempt to defend against us. You will force him to thwart that defense."

Vhok bowed at the marilith and said, "As you command." Silently, he added, he's going to do more than that for me. I have a Lifespring to visit.

Kael watched from the edge of the common as groups of soldiers assembled. Angels and archons, warriors all, gathered and milled upon the green, waiting. Kael waited with them, and he could sense the anticipation emanating from them. From time to time, he cast a glance up, toward the top of the mountain, to the highest tier of the fortress-city of Trueheart. There, beyond ring after ring of stout defensive walls constructed of huge stone blocks that ascended the sides of the mountain, stood the palace of Torm.

The knight's heart was glad to be there. He felt an old kinship with the fortress-city and its inhabitants that he had never quite mustered for the Court of Tyr.

I am a warrior, a servant of Torm. This is where I belong.

Are you sure?" Garin asked, offering a sincere yet hopeful smile. "We could really use you with us." Nilsa, whose haunted expression bespoke her struggle to come to grips with Tyr's abdication, added, "It's going to get rough today."

Eirwyn nodded and offered her own apologetic smile. "Yes," she said. "Though I know the importance of getting every possible soldier on the battlefield, I sense that I am needed elsewhere."

As if to reinforce the grimness of the moment, a band of high clouds drifted across the sun, bringing a hint of gloom. They stood on a small, high plaza, near the very top of the tallest buildings of the Court, where the breezes were fresher and unimpeded. The wind ruffled the angel's hair and carried the barest hint of an odor of smoke upon it.

Most of the angels of the Court and Trueheart had already headed toward the front, preparing for the impending onslaught of demons headed toward the House. The great hall of Tyr stood nearly empty below the trio.

"What have we come to?" Garin said softly. "The end of an age? Is this how even the gods pass?"

"Don't say that," Nilsa admonished, her sorrowful look deepening. "Tyr has chosen to walk among his people as a warrior once more. When this unpleasant business is finished, and he has cleared his head of whatever troubles him, all will be set right."

"I hope, for both your sakes, that it is so," Eirwyn said. She reached out and clasped both Garin and Nilsa on the shoulder. "I understand the pain you are feeling. I pray that your sadness, unlike mine when Helm fell, is brief and supplanted by joy again very soon." She paused and cast her gaze down at the stones between their feet. The next part was harder to say. "I want both of you to know that I bear neither of you any I’ll will. You have been loyal servants of Tyr, and now Torm, and none can fault you for fulfilling your duties."

"Thank you," Garin said, and he sounded genuinely relieved. "I'm sorry it came-to all this."

Nilsa didn't say anything, but she came toward Eirwyn and hugged her tightly.

When Eirwyn pulled back at last, she said, "We all still fight the fight of law and goodness. I am with you in spirit. But I must do this. I sense its importance."

Nilsa looked doubtful, but Garin gave one knowing nod in return. "Very well, then," he said, "You do what you must. We will miss you."

"May the blessings of Ty — of Torm be with you," Eirwyn said. "Drive them from our holy lands."

"We will," Garin said. He and Nilsa turned to go. They leaped into the air together and swooped out over the railing, leaving Eirwyn standing upon the balcony of the Court by

herself. Her eyes followed them as they soared down and away from her, until they were nothing more than tiny specks upon the horizon.