Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [5]
His troops were formidable. Humans were shoulder to shoulder with pig-faced orcs. Scaly lizard men fought alongside bug-eyed goblins and hobgoblins. Every soldier was tough and battle-hardened. They had the proper respect for their leader, a Red Wizard from the faraway land of Thay. The troops had been offered an enormous amount of gold for an easy mission. In addition to their payment, they would be allowed any loot they could carry away.
The wizard pounded a fist. "Where are my fiends?"
Instantly a black mist formed next to the angry sorcerer. Within moments, it writhed and coalesced into a twelve-foot-tall ebony horror, whose rumbling voice startled the wizard. "Your bidding, Lord Marcus?"
The Red Wizard glared at his servant. "We're looking bad out there!" he hissed. "Summon your minions and get busy! Those weaklings can't stand up to the power of a pit fiend and his hellish followers. Your unit alone should scare them into surrender! Now go!" Marcus pounded his fist again. His face flushed crimson to match his robes.
The winged monstrosity nodded at its master. It flexed its banded muscles and stretched its arms and feet, revealing sharp talons larger than a man's hand. Green ooze dripped from two tusks protruding from the beast's mouth. As the liquid splashed to the ground, wisps of smoke arose from the blackened earth. Although the creature resembled a gargoyle, anyone could see that its power was a hundredfold greater. The monster's crusty skin creaked and scraped as it called out for its minions. Black sparks leaped from its body.
One by one, other black forms from the bowels of the Nine Hells arrived. Foul clouds of mist formed around the pit fiend, swirling into solid forms. Dwarfed by their master, the three-foot-tall beasts were nonetheless horrifying to behold. Vaguely human in shape, each had spiky wings and a tail. The monsters hopped about on sharply taloned feet as a smell like charred flesh filled the air. Each of the twelve creatures carried a sharpened black trident. The mob slobbered and hissed in anticipation of the impending onslaught.
The Red Wizard's rage turned to a gloat. "Spinagons! What fine creatures! These beasts will terrify the puny mortals! Now go! My prize will be the souls of Phlan, and I do not intend to wait!" Marcus's eyes blazed, and he waved a hand at the hideous assembly. The pit fiend flapped its wings and lifted off the ground, its minions following closely.
The defenders of Phlan were turning back their attackers with ease. Bodies piled up outside the walls, while less than a dozen city guards had been pronounced dead by the priests. Many of Phlan's wounded were healed by clerics and soon returned to their posts. Those who were seriously injured were carried to churches that stood ready to serve as infirmaries.
Catapult teams tirelessly fired and reloaded their weapons. Archers delivered a constant stream of arrows into the charging enemies. Wizards arrived from all over the city and hovered high above the battle, casting spells of fire, lightning, ice, and magical energy. The hobgoblin troops in the enemy forces broke ranks and fled the field.
At the Death Gates, cries of triumph rose over the clash of battle and carried down the walls.
"Tarl's come!"
"Master Tarl is here to help save the city!"
"Tarl is fighting at the Death Gates!"
The cleric blushed at the accolades and turned to his wife. "By the gods, when you're right, you're right! We've got trouble! Go find yourself a good spot and rain purple death on whatever's out there!" He reached up to kiss Shal's cheek. His wife magically elevated to join the other wizards high above.
Heading toward the stairs leading to the top of the wall, Tarl paused. "Blast it. Brother Anton took the Holy Warhammer of Tyr to the Ceremony of Spring, and I sure could use it now. But this one will have to do." Gripping his hammer, he charged up the stairs. Nearing the top, a glowing blue warhammer appeared in his hand, replacing the one that had been there only moments before.