Safar suddenly felt a presence. It was heavy and animal-like and smelled powerfully of cat. Then the grayness wavered and he could make out the faint of image of the old lioness.

"I am Safar Timura, Ghostmother, he said. Do you remember how I helped you with your cubs?"

The lioness whined, the sound coming close to his ear.

"Will you help me, Ghostmother? Safar asked. As I helped you."

Another whine. And it came to him the old lioness had agreed.

"Thank you, Ghostmother, Safar said. Wait here until I call, please."

Safar's head came up and he was suddenly back on the rock pillar again, the flames of the magical fire dancing and showering sparks only a few feet away.

He saw Iraj and his troops had almost reached the gap between the pillars.

"Get ready, he said to the wizards.

Manacia felt a warning buzz of enemy magic bloom into life. At the same time he saw the magical fires burning at the tops of the rock pillars.

The demon king gnashed his fangs in delight. There you are, Timura! he growled. I've got you!"

He pulled back his claw, readying a soul-blasting spell.

Iraj and his cavalry swept through the gap.

"Go! Safar shouted.

Four glass globes were hurled into the fire.

Out on the red-lit plain four white hot explosions erupted along the western edge of Manacia's oncoming army.

Then four more shattered the sky on the east as Horvan's wizards hurled their globes.

"Again! Safar shouted.

Manacia was nearly hurled from the howdah by the force of the explosions. He was momentarily blinded, but when his vision cleared his first thought was that it'd returned too soon.

The explosions had punched big holes in his army's outermost wings. Other blasts followed and he heard screams of terror and pain. Then the wings started folding in on themselves as the soldiers on the edges scrambled toward the center to escape the blasts.

Manacia shouted orders to make them return to their positions, but in the chaos no one heard.

Furious, the Demon King's eyes swept up to westernmost tower of rock. He felt the presence of a powerful enemy wizardTimura!

Manacia shrieked in fury and hurled his spell.

Safar was ready.

He sensed the pressure of the oncoming attack, and cried out, Come, Ghostmother! Come!"

Manacia screamed an oath as he felt his spell blocked.

His attacking spell backblasted and he struggled for a shield and got it up just in time. A hot wave burst over his magical shield, spattering his spirit with hot drops of sorcery.

Before he could recover and strike again, he heard a mighty spine-cracking roar and a huge lion leaped out of nothingness and was on him.

Manacia grappled with it, and the lion's body was so cold it was like fighting death itself. He flung it away, and the lion tuck rolled and came to its feet.

It was then Manacia realized he was fighting a ghost. He could see right through the creature and when it opened its mouth and roared defiance, the sound had the ring of the unreal, the distant.

The lioness came for him again and Manacia dug as deep as he could into his bag of magical tricks.

Just before the massive jaws closed him he cast the spell.

The lioness vanishedreturned to its ghost world.

Manacia sagged back, exhausted of all his powers.

Iraj whirled his horse about and prepared to meet the demon onslaught pouring toward the gap, Demon Moon at their backs.

They were packed tightly into a black river of warriors, but not as tightly as Iraj wanted. He signaled his flanks and the slingmen let loose, aiming at the edges of the demon column. At the same time the cavalry units charged in, backed by fast running ground troops.

A heavy swarm of missiles fell on the demons, killing and maiming many. Another swarm struck, dealing out more pain and death.

The human cavalry units slashed in, one from the east, the other from the west. They played a dancing game, darting in to savage the edges and darting out again before the demons could close on them. The ground troops struck immediately afterward, hurling their heavy spears, then grabbing axes from their belts and wading into the fight.

Gradually, the demon column narrowed more and when it finally struck through the portal between the two rock pillars the warriors were so densely packed they were easy pickings for the humans.

Iraj killed so many his sword arm grew tired, then his sword broke and he fought with a hand ax grabbed up from one of the fallen.

He saw Luka, separated from his guard, desperately fighting off three horsemen.

Iraj saw his three soldiers fall and Luka dash back into the demon ranks, a feat which drew Protarus cold admiration.

Iraj fought on, raging against the demon tide.

Then slowly the battle changed. The sheer size of the demon army finally overcame all its flaws.

Iraj and his men found themselves being driven back as hammer blow followed hammer blow.

It wouldn't be long, he realized, before his lines cracked. And that would be the end of his army, his dreams and most certainly his life.

He chanced a look up at the western rock column.

And he thought, come on, Safar! Come on!

Safar readied his Grand Illusion.

It was the last weapon in his magical quiver.

He had no time to admire his father's artistry as he cast the spell that sent the fleet aloft.

Luka's fighting hopes were at their highest.

They were through the gap now and his army was spreading out, leaving themselves more room to use their weapons against the humans.

Luka could feel the enemy crumbling before him. One more hard effort, no more than two, and victory would be his.

Then, even above the noise of battle, he heard a murmur running through his troops, followed by collective gasps and cries of alarm. He saw several fiends pointing talons in wonder at the red-lit sky.

He looked up and it was all he could do not to gasp himself.

Sky borne warships were hurtling across the heavens to join the battle. They were the strangest vessels Luka had ever seenfighting ships, suspended under big balloons, all crammed with warriors bearing spears with glowing tips. He couldn't tell what size they were. The ships seemed small and so he assumed they were at a great height. But certainly they were large enough to hold hundreds of warriors.

Then the ships were overhead and those warriors were hurling their spears into the demon masses. The spears grew before his eyes as they fell, each becoming easily as large as a tall demon.

They struck like lightning, glowing tips exploding, sending out great sheets of flame.

Another wave of spears hit. Then another. Blasting holes into the demon ranks. Filling the air with thunder and the smell of sulfur.

Then the demon army lost its nerve.

Luka could feel it, feel the fire go out of his warriors, smell the acrid stench of their fear.

They turned and ran. First a trickle, then a stream, then a full-sized river of shrieking demons, throwing down their weapons, shedding their armor and running over their own comrades to escape the horror from the skies.