An augmented force of several dozen Protectors and at least two Hashmallim advanced on the hillock, following the exact route we had traced out of the valley. They carried lances of bone and sinew, clubs blunt and spiked, long slings with stones at the ready, loping loosely like eager jackals, confident they could take us, despite their primitive weapons. They outnumbered us two to one. Only spell craft gave us the edge.
Though most of our volunteers had limited skills compared to someone like Urszula, they could strike from a distance with enough force to knock a man down. Working in concert, they might inflict some real damage.
I had yet to see any Hashmallim employ spell craft and I wondered why? Were they simply incapable? Or were they prevented by some sort of edict from the Powers-that-be? Some taboo?
Maybe they held their skills in reserve to show discipline and restraint, or as a trump card, getting foes to underestimate them and then unleashing their magic when it was least expected for maximum effect. Hard to believe the Powers-that-be would send incompetent overseers to police the Deeps.
Perched at the edge of his platform, Olivier propped himself up on his stubs and studied the approaching force like a chess master contemplating a tricky sequence. As we watched, they had split into two groups. Even I could see they aimed to flank or surround us, to divide or disperse our defenses.
“Their numbers worry me,” said Lady An. “Even if we prevail there will be casualties. I suggest we retreat. If we leave now, we can stay well ahead of them.”
“Go, if you want,” said Olivier. “I don’t need you here.”
“We’ll take you with us,” she said. “I doubt they’ll pursue us very far and leave their flock unattended, We can then circle back to Tiamat or … bring you back here ... you wish.”
“I am not going anywhere,” said Olivier. “These fools don’t worry me.”
“I’m not only worried about them,” she said, eyes tracking the bright specks circling like stratospheric gulls high above the hillock.
“It appears the Horus has taken a turn,” said Olivier. “Perhaps you are better off sticking around. It is not a good time to be caught out on the flatlands … for an infidel, at least. Some lucky horde will be delirious with joy, I am sure.”
My head swiveled across the other side of the plateau. Olivier’s platform partly obscured it, but the knotty, brown columns of the Horus now loomed twice as large and tall as it has before. I could only assume it was twice as near and closing rapidly.
I freaked. “What the fuck? How—?”
“It knows something is up,” said Olivier. “I have seen it surge like this before. Sometimes … just feints. Sometimes moves of aggression. But don’t worry, it can’t … won’t … touch us within the bounds of these fortifications. I have some special …. repellency … you might say.”
“That mob will reach us long before that thing gets here,” said Lady An. “I suggest we focus our attentions on them.”
Olivier’s eyes drifted heavenward. “Strange to see three Seraphim together like that.” A flicker of worry flashed into his face.
Lady An stared up at the bright dots, which had glided steadily lower since we spotted them.
“You don’t expect they’ll intervene?” she said.
“Hard to say. How often do they see such a concentration of infidels and adepts out in the open? Who knows how they will react? Usually they come to observe, but … they may sense an opportunity for mayhem.”
