While Gorondos's shots sailed above Eynond's southern walls, Duronaht's army unleashed a frightening barrage of their own. Siege engines, lined up nearly wheel-to-wheel across the river, hurled dozens of shots into Eynond's walls every minute.

Renkyk calmy observed all of this through a loophole in the command chamber of the southern wall's main tower. He knew the walls were sufficiently resilient to withstand the shots for some time, possibly days on end. Few cities in all of Vorlanys had stronger walls than Eynond. Try as he might, however, he couldn't calm Galdrehln as he stood at Renkyk's side. His dear friend shook and clutched his mage's staff for balance as he only briefly glanced out the window, periodically finding it necessary to take a step back further into the chamber.

Commander Dastov, like Renkyk, stood dispassionately two loopholes to the left with both of his hands resting on his lacquered black cane. Every minute or so, one of his subordinates shuffled into the chamber and whispered into his ear some occurrence elsewhere on the battlefield. Dastov made no effort to conceal his responses to his aides from Renkyk, Galdrehln, or the several other mages in the chamber.

"Relay that to the Grand Marshal immediately, with my compliments," Dastov instructed one of them just as three shots from the siege engines struck the walls with heavy dull thuds.

After the messenger left the room, he glanced over at Renkyk and Galdrehln with a smirk.

"This isn't their main attack here, you know," Dastov commented. "It isn't even their opening play for the center. They're just trying to rattle us. I do hope that they're not succeeding in that as far as you are concerned."

"Certainly not," Renkyk shook his head, not bothering to meet Dastov's piercing gaze. "And with Tathyk neutralizing Gorondos's fires, we don't have a lot to worry about."

"Quite right," Dastov cheerily replied. It was clear, however, that his gaze had shifted toward the wobbling Galdrehln. "And you, my dear boy, there's no finer mage in the Emperor's army, to my knowledge. You shouldn't be worried."

Galdrehln shot a nervous glance toward Renkyk. Terror so gripped his face that it reminded Renkyk of when they were chased by the beast Renkyk dispatched by accident with the Silver Aura many weeks earlier. He wanted to reach out and pat Galdrehln on the head to calm him like he was a frightened dog. Galdrehln then turned to Dastov and bowed his head.

"I'm not worried... much," he sheepishly answered. "I just haven't seen a battle before is all."

Dastov let out an amused grunt as another wave of crackling flames sailed above them, only to be swiftly squelched by Tathyk's countermeasures. Renkyk could only wonder what it looked like from the sounds of it. The flames popped before falling silent almost directly above the southern wall and then there was a pitter patter of what sounded like chunks of dirt or light stone rolling down either side of the wall.

"It's a terrible thing, battle," Dastov murmured. "Quite a lot of waste. Incidentally, our counter attack should be starting soon to silence those batteries on the opposite bank. That should settle your nerves."

Within moments, heavy wooshes sounded out from the tower turrets up and down the southern wall. Almost all of the shots were set alight by mages assigned to the batteries. As they converged on the opposing siege engines, Gorondos attempted to blast the shots out of the sky with fire of his own. Explosions of crackling red and orange filled the air above Duronaht's siege engines, destroying most of the incoming shots. But not all. The remainder found their marks amidst the enemy lines, exploding and setting ablaze men and equipment alike. Renkyk reasoned that Gorondos must have been able to put a stop to their agony by squelching the flames and yet decided not to.

"Not as effective as I had hoped," Dastov lamented. "These angels, they're very good."

Gorondos took little time in responding. The Fire Angel summoned massive orbs, far larger than before, and hurled them one after the other at the various towers housing Eynond's counter-siege engines. As the shots sailed in on the right and left, Galdrehln reached out and grasped Renkyk's hand and Renkyk squeezed back.

While Tathyk moved in front of the wall to intercept those shots he could, Gorondos's frenzied attack created threats faster than the Harvest Angel could respond. One of the massive crackling and oozing orbs struck the tower fifty paces to their left. The impact rumbled the entire southern wall. The sound of the stones being blown skyward was unlike anything Renkyk had heard before. He felt his own hands run as cold as Galdrehln's.

Dastov clicked his cane on the stone and paced in a circle.

"It's time to find out if those wards I taught some of you are able to withstand an angel's might," he declared with a smirk.

"But, sir..." one of the other mages, a very young dark-skinned woman, started in exasperation.

"I know what you're thinking, but we don't have a choice," Dastov interjected. "Now, get to it then. It's only a matter of time until he targets this tower and either you defend it or we all die in a blazing inferno. I have guards stationed at the tower's base to kill the first person who runs. Do your best."

As the others scrambled to get to the tower's higher levels to provide a full range of coverage where the tower would likely be struck in the next volley, Dastov turned his attention toward Galdrehln again, pointing that lacquered cane at him.

"You know wards as well as anyone now. Don't be modest about it. You learned quickly this past week and I'd put you against any of that lot," Dastov smirked.

Galdrehln released his grip of Renkyk's hand and bowed his head swiftly, his chubby cheeks shaking.

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"I appreciate your confidence, but..."

"My dear boy, that was an order. I was just too polite to tell you otherwise," Dastov's raspy voice rumbled in amused irritation. "Now, join the others. Renkyk, you're with me."

Renkyk reached out his hand for Galdrehln, but he had already anxiously turned to go up the stairwell. Standing staggered and shaking, Renkyk was guided back toward the loopholes by Dastov. Together, they looked out as Tathyk continued to scramble against the frightening barrage Gorondos unleashed. On the second volley, the Fire Angel hurled his giant flaming orbs toward a western segment of the wall, far outside his previous range. Tathyk, possibly fearing that it was a diversion, allowed them to find their marks. The rumbles traveled down the wall into the tower, shaking Renkyk where he stood. Even Dastov shifted his feet to maintain his stance.

"It's something, is it not?" Dastov mumbled. "I first saw an angel when I was very young, you know. It actually was Gorondos, funny enough. I'd always wondered what it would look like if they fought and now... here we are."

Renkyk watched as Gorondos summoned an astonishing assortment of fiery orbs, varying in size and apparent composition, number in the dozens all around him. The next volley would be something else altogether. Tathyk, bracing for the assault, ripped massive chunks of earth out of the ground before the wall and held them in the air, waiting.

"I just wish it would stop, even if for just a bit," Renkyk said, biting his lip.

Gorondos's barrage surged forward, forming a single massive orange and red blur. Dastov turned to Renkyk and shook his head.

"You and I both know this world isn't that lucky."

~~~

She had stood staggered for many moments watching Cyrona struggle to maintain her ice wall against the charging hordes of beasts Jagreth had supplied to Parlon. At last, though, Rithys realized she would have to fight the Music Angel on his side of the divide. She dreaded it, but Cyrona's agony in straining to keep up the defenses tore at her soul. She could not allow it to continue.

Closing her eyes and imagining that she momentarily resided elsewhere, she floated over the high and thick icy barrier that Cyrona constructed to position herself before Parlon. His light golden skin had darkened considerably, forming that familiar sickly color she had seen before. He flicked his hair while chuckling and his amethyst eyes glowed hauntingly.

"Rithys. Rithys! My dear Rithys, we have fought before and I know your heart is not in this," he said, making the slightest motions toward the hulking abominations that had crashed into Cyrona's ice wall. They surrounded Rithys and Parlon, snarling through their heavy lips and thick teeth. "Why not just return to Ceuna? Forynda had that good sense after making a mess of things."

"She will return," Rithys calmly replied.

"Oh?" Parlon laughed. "And where is she now? She could be helping you, but she hides instead."

"In time."

Rithys sensed Cyrona's relief that she was at last firmly engaged with Parlon and that she could return to nimbly aiding the whole battle where she was needed. Parlon, however, immediately raised his hands as if to calm an enraptured audience of his fawning adherents.

"Cyrona! I know you hear me!" he boomed, his voice shaking the air with a lyrical lilt. "You truly mean to leave poor Rithys with me? I thought you loved her!"

Cyrona's rage immediately surged even if she was out of sight behind the thick rippling ice of her wall.

"Foolish Parlon, you think far too much of yourself, as always," Cyrona riposted in her own soaring voice. "Rithys is more than a match for you."

Parlon at once started laughing uncontrollably, his guffaws morphing into strange dissonant notes that echoed in the air. Even the abominations Jagreth had created appeared unnerved by the Music Angel's crazed sounds.

"I see that I will have to make myself a touch less passive here," he giggled. He then loosed a thunderous screech that reverberated horridly across the land, causing the beasts around them to stampede around wildly. Its true target was clear soon enough. Cyrona's ice wall began quivering and shaking. Deep cracks appeared all along its surface. Rithys contemplated attacking Parlon to stop him, but it was already too late.

With a cascade of crackles and crashes, the entire structure came tumbling down with shards of ice as large as several men impaling the ground below or plunging back into the river from whence they came. Parlon ceased his loathsome noise at once and formed a limp smile on his face. He glanced across the river where Cyrona floated above the ground with Emperor Rohmhelt's army readying for battle some distance behind her.

"Do not blame Rithys for not stopping me, Cyrona. I could have done that at any time," he mischievously taunted her, his voice lacking some of the strength it had previously.

"I thought as much," Cyrona responded. She raised her arms slightly and at once the remaining ice melted and flowed back toward the river just as Jagreth's beasts began circling back around to resume their efforts to ford the river. "But there are other ways of addressing this."

The rivers' waters began to swell drastically, swiftly breaching the banks.

"Rithys, please. Now," Cyrona commanded, her voice straining.

"She will do nothing," Parlon sang, gliding away from Rithys and toward Cyrona.

"No, Parlon," Rithys meekly said.

He spun around at her and mockingly cocked his head.

"No? Is that what you said, Rithys?" he laughed.

She closed her eyes and cleared her mind of all distraction. She reached into the whirling maelstrom of the Auras and summoned forth the void into which she had placed her beloved moons when she created the night itself all those millennia ago. Parlon may have been seen as the patron angel of the arts to mortals, but he had no dominion over what had once been and still was her canvass.

Utter abyssal darkness descended upon the south side of the river, stretching for miles as a curtain along the bank and as far south as Duronaht's army. Rithys heard gasps and shouts of thousands of confused men. Jagreth's beasts, too, radiated confusion. She could not see Parlon, other than his glowing amethyst eyes, which now locked onto her in a panic. He conjured two puffs of strange orange and purple flames, but their glow scarcely made it past his hands.

"What?!" he shouted. "Rithys! What did you do?!"

"Thank you, Rithys," Cyrona's relieved voice called out from beyond the veil Rithys had cast down.

Rithys only gave an affectionate acknowledgement through her thoughts and then proceeded to travel at instantaneous speed through the darkness, swimming through it as Cyrona would through her waters. Parlon tried to keep pace with her movements, but she knew he was too confused by the new surroundings to match her. He hurled bolts of flame, augmented by the Abyssal Aura, at her, but they all missed by wide margins.

"I can escape this, you know!" he angrily shouted. "I only need head north and I will be out of this trick of yours."

That was true enough. But Rithys had anticipated that would be his next move.

She altered her physical form to that of a single long blinding white ray that whipped back and forth all around Parlon. He again tried to strike out at her, but failed each time. She then turned herself entirely black and summoned two glowing white orbs, approximations of her beloved moons, just in front of Parlon as he faced north. He paused and stared at them in deepening confusion.

"Yes, yes. They are very pretty, but what are you trying to do, exactly?" his lyrical voice became dissonant.

She at once consolidated her physical form behind Parlon, returning to her familiar angelic manifestation. Parlon jolted where he stood.

"This," she said just as he turned his head to face her, before unleashing horrendous blasts of the Ceunan Aura from the orbs she had conjured.

She knew how to endure it. She hoped her foe did not.