Airel - Aaron Patterson [110]
***
The Brotherhood twenty made a clicking sound as their wings twitched. They found the nine that had been dispatched prior, and joined them. The intelligence the nine had gathered confirmed that indeed there were only two angels. The horde contingent agreed to a multi-pronged attack on the escaped prisoners: they would surround them and destroy them.
Before long, the Seer could observe their black forms ascending the hillock against the far-off camp, and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
As he expected, the singing stopped. A flash of white light lit up the night sky. After a mere instant, all was silent once again. The sound that reached the Seer’s ears made him tremble deeply: again, it was the sound of singing, only this time more intense.
He cursed and coughed, and in a fit of rage began to attack the four guards that had been assigned to keep watch over his tent. All four were soon dead. Blood ran down the Seer’s robe. He breathed raggedly and allowed black saliva to drop freely from his mouth. Kreios was mocking him—and for that he would pay—dearly.
***
As Yamanu and Kreios sat cooking their quaint dinner over a warm fire, singing childhood songs with happy hearts, the twenty and the nine drew near, encircling them. Kreios and Yamanu could smell them over the stew, and the mingling of stench with savory scent turned the stomach.
Kreios had only to draw the Sword. Nearby, hiding in the forest were the one hundred Shadowers Yamanu had promised; the best and most gifted. With them stood another seventy angelic warriors who did not agree with the council’s decision, and insisted on following Kreios and Yamanu into battle. As he drew the Sword and held it high, the skirmish began.
There were not enough members of the horde to go around, and the angels made quick work of them. It was over in an instant. The one hundred Shadowers and the seventy warriors then ascended to the campfire, and offered their allegiance to Kreios and Yamanu.
“Kreios, friend of El and brother to the host of heaven. We heard your beautiful singing. May we join you?”
***
The Seer flew into a rage and screamed for the entire army to assemble, to make ready for war. Fear and anger had a common friend: blindness. One can make grave mistakes under their influence. The Seer was now doing precisely that. The tools that he knew how to use so effectively against his enemies now turned against him, naturally.
***
Kreios reached out in his thoughts to the gathered angelic army. He would exercise command in this way. He first searched them to determine if they were valorous warriors, intrepid and thirsty for victory. He found to his delight that all of them were indeed of solid stock, some even angry at the council’s decision. All of them wanted to destroy the horde almost as much as he did.
The risk of opening up his own mind could not be helped, but he closed off as many irrelevant passageways as much as he could, in order to make his commands clear and concise. He did not want to clutter the field of battle with thoughts of Eriel, with his fear of losing the Sword.
He looked down into the ravine from the hill. It was writhing with the creeping light of enemy torches. The sound of tearing and ripping flesh broke the stillness: the horde had just doubled its size. The demons now stood apart from their hosts. They would act as lightning rods, filtering superhuman power to the men under their control. It was a wet and sickening noise, the reek of the stinking demons wafted up the hill. Kreios complained lightly that he would not get to enjoy Yamanu’s fine grouse stew.
“Some other time, friend and captain. Save your hunger for the roasting of demon flesh in the fires of Hell. Besides, I already ate most of it.” Kreios nearly laughed at his comic friend. He only shook his head.
Then, in