"A glyph," Sarnakyle said. "That could be very ill news. That means that the archdemon is enchanted in some… do you smell smoke?"

Siggard started and inhaled sharply. Indeed, an acrid stench now filled the air. He looked around to see a large pillar of smoke rising from the eastern side of town.

Siggard was overcome with dread. Part of Brennor was burning, and there was no thought of it being an accident; surely the demonic siege had begun.

Siggard and Sarnakyle pounded through the streets of Brennor, desperately racing eastwards where the fire burned. As he ran, Siggard searched his memory for what was in that section of the town, from the few times he had visited with his father or wife.

There was the service entrance to the castle, along with the main barracks and armory…

A cold chill began to run down Siggard's back. If the demons destroyed the armory, the town would be lost. Brennor had already been cut off from any new supplies. He cursed and skidded to a stop. They faced a dead end, terminating in a small shop selling wicker baskets. The shop was closed for the night, and a wooden sign hung from the oaken door informing all who could read when it would be opening the next morning.

They whirled about and raced towards a side street. "This place is a labyrinth," Sarnakyle called. "Do your people not plan their towns carefully, so that it is easy to get from place to place?"

Siggard panted and shook his head. "Most towns just grow in Entsteig. People find a good place and live there. I've heard the capital is even more of a maze than Brennor. There was a left turn back there. If we take that, we should be able to find our way."

His robes and cloak flapping, Sarnakyle shouted, "Right!"

They wound their way quickly through the maze of streets and alleys, passing several ladies of the night who barely had time to call out their wares even as the two passed. After several turns, always keeping the plume of smoke in sight, they nearly collided with a fire brigade.

"Damnation," Siggard muttered. "It's begun."

Siggard and Sarnakyle slowed to walk down the side street, passing the guardsmen. One of the guards turned and called after them to stop, but they both ignored him.

The street emptied out into a small square, where Siggard saw several soldiers crowded into a circle, desperately fighting for their lives. They were surrounded by froglike creatures that appeared strangely indistinct, as though they were here and yet not. Behind the battle stood the stone walls of the barracks, fire belching forth from every window to sear the air.

Siggard felt rage begin to take hold, and he drew Guthbreoht. The sword's song filled his being, fueling his fury, and he screamed an ancient battle cry whose words were older than the world itself.

He rushed into the fray, cutting down one of the demonic things with such force that the monster was sliced in half. His sword sang in exaltation as he turned to the next demon, quickly spilling its guts onto the cobbled road. Had anybody been watching, they would have wondered if he wielded the sword or vice versa.

He heard a shout from Sarnakyle, and a bolt of fire struck behind him. He turned away from the heat to see one of the demons staggering back, its body a living torch. With a quick thrust Siggard pierced it through, and turned again to barely dodge another demon's lunge. The claws of the thing scraped past him, and Siggard's blow severed the monster's spine.

He looked to see the soldiers forming into a shield wall and charging. His frantic attack had distracted at least half of the demons, giving the guardsmen a chance to rally. Two of the monsters fell to the soldiers' swinging blades, but the melee was not without a cost. One of the guards went down, clutching at his gaping throat as his lifeblood poured out in a scarlet rush to stain the ground crimson.

Siggard began to work his way towards the wall, suddenly realizing that if he didn't join the other soldiers, he could be surrounded and killed. Two more creatures fell to his sword, Guthbreoht's song becoming stronger with each demonic life it took.

Just before he reached the advancing shield wall, he felt an evil presence behind him. He reversed his grip and struck, feeling the sword pass through flesh and bone, but when he turned to look he saw that the steel impaled thin air. An ichorous blood began to run from the blade, and one of the creatures slowly started to appear, Guthbreoht transfixed in its neck. Siggard wrenched the sword clear, levering off the demon's head.

And then the shield wall overtook and engulfed him, and he took his place at its head. The soldiers continued to advance, cutting down every demon in their path. With Siggard in their ranks, they had become unstoppable, his sword destroying a monster with every stroke.

Several bolts of lightning struck down from the sky, killing the last of the demons. Siggard turned to see Sarnakyle nearly staggering from exertion, his face a sweaty mask. The wizard was reaching towards the heavens, and where he pointed a small cloud had formed. Finally, Sarnakyle lowered his hand, the thunderhead above vanishing into a bluish mist.

Even as the firemen rushed past them, the captain of the guard, a large mustached man with a slight limp, stepped up to Siggard. "Sir, I thank you. If it hadn't been for you, they would have destroyed us and burnt down the armory."

"So long as the armory is safe," Siggard said, feeling the exhaustion as the adrenaline left his system. He stepped over to one of the dead soldiers and said a small prayer, then wiped his sword clean on the body's tabard. He didn't know if blood would rust a blade forged by Velund, but he didn't want to take any risks. Strangely, the edge was not dulled at all, as though he had been cutting through cloth rather than flesh and bone. He sheathed Guthbreoht and sat on a wooden bench at the edge of the square, watching as the bucket brigade formed and dashed water on the billowing flames.

Sarnakyle walked over and sat beside him. "Given the clear skies, I didn't know if that lightning spell would work. I'm glad it did."

Siggard patted the wizard on the back. "You did well, my friend."

"Do you suppose the steward will allow us to see the earl now?"

Siggard raised his head and surveyed the square. The firemen continued to pour bucket after bucket into the rising flames and choking smoke. "They won't be able to put it out, will they?" Siggard mused, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell.

Sarnakyle shook his head. "It is too far gone. I only hope that nobody was trapped inside."

"We should probably help."

"Probably."

"In a moment."

"Yes," the wizard agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Once we're rested."

Two more people entered the square, both wearing tunics of office and rich cloaks. One, a tall red-bearded figure, wore an ornamental mace at his side. The other was shorter and rotund. They talked to the captain of the guard for a moment, who pointed first at several of the monstrous bodies lying on the ground and then at Siggard and Sarnakyle. They spoke a few words more, then the two newcomers strode towards the weary pair.

Siggard sighed in frustration when he realized that the first man was Hunfrith. He didn't recognize the second man, though. As they approached, Siggard stood, Sarnakyle following his lead.