Holy Opposites 37

	Luanea, to her immense credit, reacted in an instant.  She began singing a prayer, and I felt warmth and strength seep into my body, easing my shock.  I felt myself return from Androlynne and hurled myself aside as the demon stabbed where I had been standing.

	“I will not fall to you, monster!” I cried, though I wasn’t sure.  This one was as large as the one from Pale Night’s domain, at least, and we were all sapped of our strength.

	Doshellas took a knee, safely out of range of the monster’s melee attacks, and fired a glowing white arrow into its back.  He threw his Sunrod high into the air and it landed against one wall, rolling down towards the drain.

	I couldn’t see what he was doing with the Sunrod, though, because the monster was on me.  A great slash of fire lit the ground beneath me as I leaped high above it.  I felt an unreal agony in my back and my armor exploded from my chest as something struck me in the back, and I rolled awkwardly, slamming against the damaged door.

	For some reason, Luanea and Doshellas were screaming something, but I couldn’t understand them.  Axio was on the demon now, slashing.  “SMITE EVIL!” he bellowed, and his blade shone with the pure light of Ilmater.

	He drove the blade up to the crossguard in the Balor’s side, and the demon staggered, clearly hurt.  I swung my glaive at its knees and scored a hit.  I felt a great rush of air as I leaped over its retaliatory blow, and I sprang fully ten feet up in the air.

	I blinked in surprise as that registered.  That wasn’t really something I could do, even unburdened by my chest armor.

	Doshellas seemed to overcome whatever shock he had had, and shot an arrow into the Balor’s back.  He immediately turned and ran as the Balor bellowed in pain, but the demon was fixated on me.

	Luanea resumed singing, and I saw a wave of power emanate from her and wash over Axio.  He roared his wrath to the sky and cleaved with his magic sword, slicing a chunk of fiery flesh from the demon.

	I hit the ground and stumbled.  Suddenly my back felt heavy.  I winced.  Whatever had hit me in the back must have deadened a nerve.  I didn’t have time to worry about that, though.

	The damaged door exploded, showering us with sparks.  To my astonishment, a vast, glowing angel emerged from the tiny door, swinging a sword of shining ice.  The Balor roared a challenge, and the titans clashed.

	I cast a healing spell on myself and rose to my feet, then stumbled again.  Still, my back felt far too heavy.  I reached back and felt something sore there, as if I had been impaled.  I swallowed my fear.  If I had been stuck with something, I would have to have Luanea or Axio heal me themselves.  That was for later, though.  I watched in satisfaction and relief as the angel ripped the Balor to pieces with blow after blow from its sanctified blade.  Axio was beside it, striking when the angel withdrew, while the drow attacked it from behind.

	The Balor didn’t withstand the assault long.  With a howl of agony and hate, it exploded, sending Doshellas and Luanea reeling, their clothing ablaze.  The angel immediately stopped and cast a mighty healing spell over the four of them, and the Eilistraeeans batted out the flames.

	It spoke.  “Are you well, my little friends?”

	I cocked my head.  For some reason, it didn’t have the same world-tilting power behind its words as the angels in the Arbor, or even the one I had seen in the forests of Androlynne.

	“No, sir,” Axio said heavily.  “I think not.  What are you doing here?  What foulness of Halaster could constrain your noble self to this putrid dungeon?”

	“A fair question, little Chosen,” the angel said.  It didn’t seem to notice that Doshellas gasped in surprise when it said that, and I winced for Axio.  Doshellas hadn’t known Axio was Chosen?  How awkward.  The angel turned to me.  “But the battle has not ended.”

	I turned – there was nothing behind me.  “Er…”

	“Come and die, little devil,” the angel said, and it lunged at me, sword raised high.


Chapter Twenty-Four:


	Suivi Embersson kicked back in his little flat, downing half a beer in one go.  The professional spy was battling boredom.  He had sent off his message after sneaking into the rookery’s ruins when most of the Watch went home for the night.  He had burned off his lingering nerves after ten hours of solid sleep, and now he had the jitters.

	He dropped the tankard of beer on the table and stood, pacing.  He ran his hands over his unshaven face and sighed between his hands.

	What the fuck was he doing?

	The golem in the altar room had haunted his dreams the previous night.  He felt a pang of actual conscience, something he thought he had specifically excised a long time ago.  That awful sight of the wires of meat dragging the child off to be devoured…

	“FUCK!” he bellowed, and his voice echoed around the stone room.  “What the fuck!  What the fuck do I do?” he demanded of the empty room.  He kicked a scrap of bark into the cold fireplace and stared at the ashes.

	He always came out ahead.  Always.  No exceptions.  He won, that was what he did, over and over.  That was why he had more money than a middle-sized town, that was why he had survived every scrap of conflict in the last twenty shitty fucking years, and that was why he was here today.

	So how did he come on top now?

	The Baneites were losing, that much was obvious.  He could sell all his things and take off without too much trouble, and if they were losing as badly as he suspected, he should do it soon.  He was confident that he should.

	But what if they won?

	That was what was scaring the shit out of him.  The fact that the ritual they were performing, whatever it was, was apparently fueled by the souls of children was, despite his practiced unconcern, wearing at the edges of his professionalism.  It wasn’t even that he cared so much about the kids, either, but what in the world could be fueled by children’s’ souls and be good for whatever was standing nearby when it ended?

	Embersson slammed the other half of his drink and dropped the mug in the basin.  Having a conscience was a pain in the dick, and he tried to tell himself it was just a momentary distraction, but no matter how many times he tried, he never quite convinced himself.


	Cavria gasped and flung herself out of the way of the dropping blade.  “YOU ARE NO ANGEL!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.  She sprang sideways to avoid a cleave.

	“I am, devil, and I am your end,” the angel said, swinging again.  This time it connected, and Cavria screamed in agony as ice crawled over her exposed arm.  Axio swallowed.  Whatever was going on with her back – all he could see was blood and ropey flesh – had destroyed her torso armor.  She was nude from the waist up, save her helmet.  The amulet of disguise was gone, which means she had no holy symbol, which meant she had no spells.  Axio forced back his shock and sudden fear and raised his blade.

	“Holy one, STOP!” he bellowed.

	“Save your breath, Axio,” Cavria coughed.  She stumbled out of the way of another swing.  “It’s an illusion or something!”

	“How?” Axio demanded.

	“How would I know?” Cavria snapped.

	“There!” Doshellas said.  He fired an arrow up at the ceiling, and Axio saw a shower of sparks.  A lantern hung from the ceiling, and Axio frowned, trying to see what his friend was shooting.  The lantern flickered, and the angel seemed to fade for a moment.

	“It’s a projector!” Axio gasped.  He charged the angel’s back and stabbed deep with his sword.  Cavria limped out of range of the wounded illusion’s blade.

	The angel backhanded the Aasimar, and Axio went sprawling.  He tasted blood and forced himself to swallow.  He struggled to his feet, but then there was a blast of light overhead, and the angel vanished.

	Luanea lowered her hand, and the wisp of radiant flame from her hand wafted away in smoke.  Before anybody could react, she had crossed the space from where she had been to Cavria’s side in an instant.

	“Do not move,” she said coldly, and it was the most wrathful thing Axio had ever heard from her.  “I do not know what you are, but you are not my friend Cavria.”

	The High Succubus looked up at her safely from her sitting position.  “No, this is me,” she said sadly.  “It’s really me.”

	“It’s really her,” Axio said, wobbling over to her.  His head was still ringing from the smash to the chest he had taken.  Doshellas was slowly following, arrow nocked.  “I swear, Luanea, it’s her.  She’s a devil, and I knew.”

	Luanea turned on him, silver eyes flashing in anger.  “You knew?”

	“What the hell just happened?” Doshellas demanded.  His voice was uncharacteristically high and shaky.  “Why do you have wings?”