“We're going to have to cross a wide open space, Ed,” said Brian Talltrees. The scout shook his head. “I saw some demons roaming around. I don't know how they will react if they see us.”
“They'll attack,” said Eighth. “It's their nature. Can we withstand their numbers without risking Shellbert?”
“I don't know,” said Talltrees. “My guess is more will be attracted to the noise unless we wipe the first batch out without a problem.”
The five of them had gathered in a loose huddle to confer in an alley between two buildings. Andrea had her back to a wall, and an eye on either entrance. The last thing they wanted was to be discovered this close to their goal.
Sir Edward looked up from the huddle. He considered their next move. If they wanted to get Shellbert to her temple, they would have to cross that space.
“We'll go across,” he decided. “Brian and Andrea, I want you two to escort Cleric Shellbert. Eighth and I will draw out the demons. We'll try to cause a big enough distraction that you three should be able to get across without a problem.”
“I think I should go across with Eighth,” said Andrea. “I have a lot more punch than you, Ed.”
“That's why you have to stay with Brian and Cleric Shellbert,” said Sir Edward. “They'll need someone who can punch a hole for them. Eighth and I can take care of ourselves. Don't worry about us. Just get our cleric to her temple and help her do what she can.”
“You two could get killed doing this,” said Andrea.
“It will give my number enough glory that it might be retired,” said Eighth. He spun his swords in his hands. His blank mask seemed to smile but that might have been an effect from the ambient light. “I couldn't ask for anything more.”
“I could, but I don't think I'll get it,” said Andrea.
“All right,” said Sir Edward. “Let's get started before I lose my nerve.”
Eighth skipped lightly out in the open. He crossed the open area like he was dancing with an invisible partner. Sir Edward followed with a set pace and stolid look on his face.
The demons appeared in a small group of four as Eighth approached the other side of the street. They growled as he spun in place in front of them.
“Do you want to dance?,” asked Eighth. He spun to a stop and bowed to the demons. “I have been told I am quite good by the ladies.”
“Demons don't dance,” said the biggest of the crowd. “We hate dancing.”
“That's too bad,” said Eighth. “It's really good for the irate disposition.”
Sir Edward stood behind his colleague. He wanted to let the cleric get started. Then he would attack.
The demons charged, weapons and claws and other things deployed as they moved. Eighth danced through the attacks, cartwheeling through the air with a laugh of amusement. That put the four demons between the cleric and the knight in a box.
Sir Edward strode forward. He didn't have a lot of agility, but he had swung a sword all of his life. And the sword he carried had been the one Pitt had left behind when they first met. It was sharp enough to cut the air.
The four demons split up and tried to double up on their opponents. Eighth drew his two out, chattering about their technique as they tried to cut him down, or shut him up. It wasn't clear what they were trying to do, but they were failing in the effort.
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Sir Edward's two charged at him. He cut through their claws and insect leg spear to get close. He stabbed through the openings left in their defenses. He chopped at them when he got a chance. Twin explosions of ash rewarded him.
In the short time of Sir Edward's exchange of blows, Eighth had cut his enemies hundreds of times but they were still standing. They looked exasperated at the harlequin laughing at them as he sliced them with every swing of his arms.
Sir Edward sliced through the closest one's back. He stepped back to reset his stance as the surviving demon realized it was all alone. Eighth stabbed it in the face before it tried to escape.
“That was showy,” said Sir Edward.
“It's good to take some enjoyment in your work,” said Eighth. He laughed softly. “Shall we meet our next challenge?”
“Let's go,” said Sir Edward. “Hopefully, Brian will get the ladies to the temple without too many problems while we are running this distraction play.”
“It will be fine,” said Eighth. “Let's do what we can to draw the demons to us so they can move freely.”
Sir Edward nodded. He led the way forward. He wished he had Macomber by his side. The cleric always saw the best approach to any problem.
The two swordsmen advanced toward the Temple of Mogin Farn. Demons flocked to their path. Eventually the numbers were great enough that the two of them had been forced to a stop. Eighth remained untouchable, but Sir Edward suffered from strikes he had not been fast enough to block in time.
Each blow sapped some of his strength and will to keep pressing forward. He fell to one knee after a vicious slice through his armor. Blood covered the front of the leather. He stabbed back with weakness pressing him down.
He had never expected to die buried under demons in a public square in the city. He had hoped to settle down on his estate and sleep his life away. He should have known better than that.
He hoped the others succeeded in their mission. That was the only thing that made this bearable.
Yellow lightning lit the square up. An explosion of ash greeted the outburst of magic electricity. Andrea's hair float upwards the brief seconds of her spell flying through the air.
“It's all right,” she said. “I'm here now.”
The demons turned to deal with this new threat. They couldn't allow a magician to keep them from killing the swordsmen when they had their victims on the ropes.
Several men and women wearing the gray and symbol of Mogin Farn appeared behind Andrea. They raised their hands and chanted the prayer of banishment. Light wrote on the air. A section of dark combatants were removed from the field under the combined grant of power.
“Shall we go?,” asked the oldest woman cleric. “We can tend to your wounds in the temple.”
“Come along, Sir Edward,” said Eighth. “It looks like your friends have succeeded thanks to my overwhelming excellence of swordcraft, and your own clumsy blows.”
He hooked one of the knight's arms over his shoulder and lifted him up. He carried/dragged the wounded man after the gray clerics. Demons who had not heard the first prayers being used found themselves facing another barrage as the group retreated behind the wood and iron doors of the temple.
“Overwhelming excellence of swordcraft?,” asked Sir Edward.
“Humility is not something that we are trained in,” said Eighth.
An elder cleric and an assistant took Sir Edward from Eighth's support. They laid him out on a pad to one side of the open courtyard that seemed to have suffered some battling during the invasion. They prayed over him, asking for power from their god. The knight's wounds closed from an inner light under his skin.
“You are going to have to rest,” said the cleric. “We closed the wounds, but your body needs time to get some of its strength back.”
“I don't have time for that,” said Sir Edward. He struggled to sit upright. “There's still a fight ahead.”
“And your place in it is over,” said the cleric. She placed a hand on his face and said something. The knight collapsed on the pad. His arms and legs still twitched. “He's a stubborn one, but he'll sleep for a while.”
“I think I need to sleep some too,” said Eighth. “Did Cleric Shellbert tell your high priestess the plan?”
“They are still discussing it as far as I know,” said the medical cleric. “When they need us, they'll let us know.”
“I'm going to take a nap,” said Eighth. “Let me know if you need my talents. When I wake up, I will be ready to fight some more.”
The cleric nodded. She felt Sir Edward's head. She said another phrase to call for a grant. The knight quit moving.
Eighth looked around the open courtyard. He didn't like the way it was exposed to the sky. There was nothing preventing demons from coming over the walls other than the clerics. He walked over to where steps had been built to a stage to go into the main temple. He found a ruined water barrel and pulled it over him as he laid down next to the steps.
It wasn't a perfect disguise but it would do until his nap was over.
If they needed him before then, he would hear his name being called so he could take part in the action.
He wondered how much glory he had earned fighting for the city like this. He would surely be recognized after this was over.
He drifted off with the thoughts of medals drifting through his head.