Airel - Aaron Patterson [119]
Slowly, the gift of the Shadowers began to recede. The angelic army on the ground was no longer hidden, the protective shadow pierced by the power of the Seer’s diabolical shroud. The angelic army at Kreios’s side came into full view of the enemy. The tide on the battlefield turned, and Kreios saw his warriors begin to fall quickly before the demonic horde.
Kreios could feel his anger rise; he could sense each one of his men as they died, could hear them cry out in his mind. How could the Seer have known of our Shadowers? He did not allow himself to think about the treachery of the council now.
He searched through the ether for the mind of Yamanu. “You must engage your troops now, Yamanu. We fight to the death from here on.” The angelic second wave moved in thunderously, and there was the sound in the treetops of a great army. Kreios breathed more freely as fresh troops landed at his side, and the spent troops retreated to the safety of Yamanu’s shadow in the air. The angels were much stronger than the Brotherhood, but the advantage was short-lived. If not for the Sword, all would be lost.
Kreios took stock again. The thirteen at his side were still strong. They did not feel the drain. Veridon, to his right, stood face-to-face with four hordesmen, bleeding them in a single stroke, hewing them where they stood. Kreios dodged an enemy stab from his left, spun fluidly, brought the Sword back around, and took the fool’s head off.
The angels on the ground, refreshed, roared lustily and charged into battle.
The troops now moved like lightning, but Kreios could feel the death of yet another number of angels from behind him.
His hand was forced. “Assemble, Army of El! Rally to my position!—TO ME!” His voice rang out into the red night. An answering roar came from the horde and they charged forward.
Down from the heavens came Yamanu’s contingent, barely refreshed. Gladly they came back to the restoring source of the Sword; a veritable link to heaven itself. Kreios quickly counted heads and estimated that their numbers had been cut down by nearly one hundred.
Together, the angelic army made progress. Though they made an easy target being grouped in a single unit, the problem for the horde was being able to get at them—the angels were very strong in the vicinity of the Sword.
Attacks were repelled with ferocity, and the horde army lost hundreds as they threw themselves against the bulwarks of the angelic formation. It threw them into confusion for some time. Kreios exploited the situation by retreating to the high ground, forcing the horde to come and get them by climbing up the little open hill after them. It seemed the advantage in battle was swinging back to him, and he considered his options as he lopped off yet another enemy head.
The horde flowed up the side of the small hill like water, and the Seer hovered over the mass of men and demons like a protective father. They kept coming and coming; as if in the forest they were breeding and multiplying. Kreios was amazed by their numbers. He only wanted to get to the Seer and finish him, but that was not yet an option.
Blood and gore covered the glowing angels as they fought in the open, exposed, the Shadowers unable to overcome the Seer’s powerful incantation of black magic. The horde then regrouped at the rear of their formation, their strategy changing.
The demons reentered their hosts, the possessed men grew wild, and their eyes blazed: together they were stronger. This new concentration of force was then sent against the angelic army and smashed against it with great force. Kreios felt the pain of many more of his army fall in that moment. They tried to hold the horde at bay, but their defenses were failing and they were weakening. He counted again. He was down to only around twenty.