Pools of Darkness - James M Brown [6]
The clash and fury of battle was so great that most defenders didn't notice a faint glowing mist forming high above the city. The wizards were the first to see it. Half a dozen spells were cast at it to discern its nature.
The mist appeared to have no other purpose than to provide light. As the cloud grew, its intensity increased until the city was lit as brightly as if it were midafternoon. Puzzling as that was, the spellcasters continued to shower spells down on the attackers. Then one of the sorcerers far out over the field shouted a cry of alarm.
In the distance, thirteen black spots appeared high in the air. As they closed in, flapping wings could be detected. A new cry arose from many of the wizards. "Fiends! There are fiends heading this way!" The sorcerers flew toward each other and arrayed themselves into a gigantic sphere, each facing outward. In this formation, they could attack the beasts from any angle of approach.
Facing the front of the battle, Shal aimed four purple lightning bolts toward the attack force. The wizards around her continued to rain their own magic onto the enemy. In Phlan, it was common for wizards to adopt a particular hue to use as a magical signature, so streaks of blue, yellow, orange, pink, and red streamed from the assembled mages in a beautiful but deadly display.
Below, on the city's wall, Ston hollered at his friend.
"Lookee, Tulen! Purple magic! Lady Shal has arrived, and she's blastin' those critters!" The ancient warrior fairly hopped with excitement.
"I thought you hated sorcery, you old goat!" Tulen chided.
"Fool! Of course I hate it, but not when it's on our side!" Ston chortled and fired his crossbow.
"Lookee what else we got, Ston! Big trouble overhead!" The grizzled warrior pointed to the swarm of spinagons and their massive leader. "Time for some fancy shootin'! Pay attention, Jarad, me boy!"
The oldtimers took aim, waiting for the creatures to approach. They stood perfectly still, fingers on triggers. At last the beasts drew near, and the men could release their missiles.
Both bolts whizzed toward the monsters, scoring their marks. Instead of sinking deep into the black flesh, however, the bolts bounced off and tumbled to the ground. Other arrows, catapult loads, and hurled daggers found their targets but also careened away. The monsters didn't so much as miss a wingflap and returned the favor by firing poisoned tail spikes at Phlan's troops.
As the leather-winged monsters flapped boldly toward the weakened defenders, a magical assault took shape, streaming toward the incoming horrors. Magical bolts of every size and color seared toward the unholy mob. A third of the energies fizzled uselessly away, but the remainder hissed and popped against the fiends in a rainbow of death. A purple streak blasted two spinagons, bowling them over and knocking them helplessly to the ground, where they exploded in a shower of cinders. A yellow and a blue streak each destroyed another spinagon. The mass of fiends broke formation and flapped around the sphere of wizards, hurling poisoned tail spikes. They bounced off the enormous shield of magical protection that surrounded the wizards and crumbled to dust.
A quarter of an hour and dozens of spells later, the last of the spinagons tumbled to the ground. The pit fiend roared in anger, circling to retreat. Its minions had wounded some of the defenders, but this city was proving to be unusually tough. Half the citizens should have run in fear at the mere sight of the creatures from the Nine Hells. But even the fiends' dreaded magical attacks had been deflected with little harm.
The seething pit fiend flapped away from Phlan, back toward the waiting Marcus.
Cries of victory erupted from the walls as the last monster flew away. The troops turned toward the more mundane