Томас Рейд - The Crystal Mountain

Blinding light erupted from the demon, surrounded it. A column of divine retribution shone upward into the heavens above. The burst was so brilliant, so dazzling, it filled Garin's sight. He flinched and brought his arm up, but he could not cover his eyes. The glory of the radiance overwhelmed him.

When the smiting faded, the glabrezu was no more. A circle of scorched ground smoked where the creature had been before. Nilsa lay sprawled there, shuddering.

Garin went limp, completely exhausted.

I am yours, blessed Torm, he thought as he collapsed to the ground.

As the angel tried to regain his strength so he could tend to Nilsa, he could hear the battle still raging all around him. He glanced to the side and saw the ground still disgorging demons. The remaining archons were much fewer in number than they had been. They struggled to hold lines, and often, the demons surrounded them completely, creating islands of the hound warriors in a sea of seething, chaotic fury.

When such an island began to collapse, the archons would

vanish, reappearing instantly in a more coherent line along the demons' flanks. In that way, they managed to stave off destruction.

But they were losing ground.

Garin got to his hands and knees and crawled to where Nilsa lay. The wounded angel shuddered as she cried. Garin reached her and pulled her to him.

"My wing," she sobbed. "It took my wing."

"Shh," Garin replied. He examined the stump of her ruined appendage and saw that it still bled freely. He could sense that Nilsa was weak from blood loss. Grimacing in effort, he channeled what little power he had left into a flow of healing energy. He directed the divine salve into her body, staunching the flow of blood. It was a trickle of his usual efficacy, but it would save her life.

I'm sorry it's not more, he thought, saddened. I am spent.

Nilsa ceased most of her writhing as the soothing powers ameliorated the worst of her pain. She sagged in Garin's arms. "My wing," she repeated in a near-whisper.

"We've got to get you off the battlefield," he said. He turned and peered one way and then another, seeking some able body to help him.

The archons were drawing back, losing the field. A few of them — perhaps a dozen — seeing the angel down, teleported to the pair. "Captain," one said, "we're being overrun. We need to pull back and summon reinforcements."

Garin nodded. "She can't move. We have to get her out of here."

"How?" the archon asked. "What do you wish of us?"

"Carry her," Garin said. "Back, to our own lines."

The archon nodded. "You two," he said, pointing to two

of the warriors, "lift her. The rest, fan out, keep the rabble away. Let's go!"

Garin grabbed the speaker by the arm. "You have to get word to the commanders. You have to let them know that we have lost this position. I won't leave her, and you can travel faster. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the archon said. He vanished.

The remaining eight archons formed a loose circle around Nilsa and her bearers. Two took point, four watched the flanks, and the remaining two brought up the rear. As a group, they made their way back, away from the edge of the world where the gashes in the ground belched up more demons. The ones already there pursued the archons, running to surround them.

"Faster," Garin said, feeling his strength beginning to return. "I'll clear a path."

He moved to the point and blasted the closest fiends with a word of power. The screaming, clamoring demons fell back from his efforts, and the archons surged into them, hacking and slicing them.

More filled the void.

"Don't stop," Garin said breathlessly. He watched as the divine force sent them scattering like leaves before a wind. "Keep moving!"

The group trotted along, step by step. An archon fell on the left side, and the group closed in. One of those of the rear guard took a wound and had to fall back into the circle. The group closed again.

Nilsa found some of her strength and ordered the archons to put her down so she could join the fight. She carried her ruined wing under one arm and walked, using her own divine

power to channel aiding energy into the hound warriors. She healed them where she could.

Still more fiends came, redoubling their efforts to get at the celestials. Madness blazed in their eyes. Garin could see their hunger, their desperation.

We're not going to make it, he realized. But we will take many of them with us, he vowed.

The trotting became walking. Then each step went a little bit slower than the one before.

The group stopped making progress at all. The circle tightened, and the demons, gibbering and laughing, squeezed together, fighting to get closer.

The fighting went on. The fiends' bodies piled waist high. The archons used them as a barricade, climbing atop the makeshift wall to keep the demons from gaining the heights. Garin used his wings to hover, delivering aid where he could.

"We will hold them to the last of us," one of the archons said over his shoulder.

"Leave me," Nilsa called, from the center of the makeshift fortress. "Do not sacrifice all these good soldiers for me!"

Garin turned to look down at her. She stood in the center of the circle, her lone wing folded against her body, and gave him a reassuring smile. He knew she was right. He didn't want it to end like this for her, but the rest of the archons could be saved. "I'm sorry," he said. He nearly choked on the words. His chest felt leaden.

"Torm is with me," she said with that same soft smile. Then she turned away to deliver another blast of holy energy. "I will die content."

Garin was on the verge of giving the order when a horn blared from nearby. He turned in place and peered in that direction.

Twin shapes skimmed low over the trees and soared past, throwing their enormous shadows across the group's last stand. The force of their passing ruffled Garin's hair. The demons, once so certain of victory, faltered and wailed.

The angel wasn't sure he had seen correctly. The twin forms looked like dragons, one silver and one gold.

But where—?

He whipped his head around and caught sight of them. They flew together, gliding low over the endless swarm of demons. They dipped their tails into the seething mass, thrashing them back and forth. Where they flew, bodies scattered. The gold one drew up at the closest of the fume-belching gashes in the ground and raked it with its fiery breath. The cascade of flames inundated the hole, destroying demons by the score.

Seeing it made Garin wanted to weep for joy. He felt hope again.

"Garin!" Nilsa called.

He looked down. She was beaming up at him, but what he noticed was the dozen or so new arrivals with her. Archons had joined their companions in the outer ring, strengthening it, and were driving the demons back from their position. Others filled the circle, surrounding Nilsa, waiting to escort her forward. He spied the warrior from before, the one he had sent for help, among them.

He looked toward the woods and saw a glorious sight. An entire legion of archons rushed from there, accompanied by angels, solars, and planetars, as well as other creatures he didn't even recognize. They ploughed into the demons, driving the fiends back with superior numbers. The doomed creatures cried out in anguish as they scrambled to retreat from the new onslaught.

There was nowhere for them to go, and they died in droves.

Garin settled to the ground next to the archon he had sent away. "Torm blesses us with your return," he said, grinning. "What is this?"

Nilsa stepped beside him and wrapped her free arm around him. Garin returned the embrace.

The archon gave him a quick smile in return. "The reinforcements you requested," he said.

"Yes, but who in the heavens are they?" Garin asked, bewildered. "Dragons?"