he was not sure for how much longer they would do so.
All night the daemon worshippers had attacked in waves, and then at last, as the defenders had tried to snatch some rest, that horrific cloud of sorcery had come. Tyrion had no idea what had happened within it, but screams of agony and delight had echoed over the battlements and when the cloud had finally dispersed the ground around the exterior walls had been littered with the half-naked bodies of fallen elven troops. The Chaos worshippers had come surging over.
There simply were not enough elves to hold the shrine against the force assaulting it. The speed with which such a huge attack had come had thrown the elves off guard. They had never imagined such a force could set foot on the sacred soil of the holy island so quickly.
What had been intended to be a safe refuge for himself and his brother had turned out to be a death trap. There was no way off the island without passing through that daemonic horde. Perhaps reinforcements would arrive soon but if they did not come in force, they would be destroyed piecemeal as they tried to leave the harbour.
In the distance brazen horns sounded. Winged furies descended from the sky, falling on the defenders with terrible rending claws. Down there people were dying to protect him and the sacred soil of this most holy place. Part of him wanted to leap into the fray and aid them but that would not be wise. Needlessly exposing himself would make the defenders’ task harder and perhaps even make a mockery of their efforts if he were to be killed.
The most sensible thing he could do was to retreat into the deepest and best protected parts of the shrine and pray that the battle turned out well. He already knew that it would not. He could see what would happen quite clearly. The daemons would clear the last few defenders from the outer walls, and force them to fall back.
Tyrion heard feet on the stairs behind him. The rain-soaked cowl of a priest of Asuryan rose into view. He was breathing hard, his face was pale and he was obviously frightened.
‘There you are, Prince Tyrion,’ he said. ‘We have been looking all over for you. The abbot has ordered me to take you the inner shrine. You will be safe there along with your brother... if you are safe anywhere. The god will protect you.’
He did not seem at all sure of that.
Teclis knew the battle was going badly. He did not even have to look at the faces of the messengers bringing reports to the captain of the warriors guarding the innermost shrine to know it. The news had been bad ever since the priest had come to lead him to this sacred sanctum deep within the shrine. There were a few wounded warriors here in the shadows cast by the great fire pit and twenty Phoenix Guards. The warriors looked worried. The Phoenix Guards stood as impassive as the massive statues surrounding them.
Teclis could sense there were many daemons, some of enormous power, outside the shrine and drawing ever closer. He felt their presence like an evil shadow lying on his heart. It made him want to howl with terror. Only by an enormous effort of will could he keep himself from doing so. When mortals faced daemons the evil ones usually had the advantage in power and magic and morale. They need not fear for their infinite lives. Mortals did. The mere presence of daemons was enough to ensure terror.
The daemons were not the only supernatural entities making their presence felt in this hour. He looked up at the great flame burning in the centre of the chamber. It roared like a city on fire. Its heat was enormous. At any other time he would have felt privileged to witness this manifestation in the most sacred heart of elvendom, the chamber of the Flame of Asuryan.
He was more aware of the flows of power around him within the shrine than he ever had been in any other place and at any other time. He sensed the presence of the god as it leaked out of whatever realm Asuryan dwelled in and into this world. It was visible to his magesight all around. The air seemed full of glittering sparks. His skin tingled where they touched and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.