"Fey'ri above!" he cried.
The Evereskans scattered and sought cover, some of them unlimbering bows to shoot back up at their airborne attackers. The daemonfey climbed away from the archers, though a few of them crumpled in midair and plummeted to the ground, brought down by good or lucky shots. He looked for Ilsevele, and found her picking herself up out of a thicket, her cloak and surcoat smoldering.
"Damn them," she growled. "We've got to draw those winged warriors closer to the ground!"
Araevin watched them, and a fierce joy kindled in his breast.
"Or go up after them," he snarled.
He quickly barked out the words of his flying spell, and leaped up into the air after the winged warriors circling overhead. The smoke and fog rushed by his face as he streaked upward, and he glimpsed the great expanse of the battle filling the cwm from side to side. He paid it no mind, keeping his attention honed on the fey'ri ahead, even though he saw hundreds more winging over the battlefield.
These at least will know they've been in a fight, he told himself.
The fey'ri noticed his ascent, and a dozen of them wheeled to meet him. Two sorcerers blasted at him with stabbing tongues of brilliant blue lightning, but Araevin swerved aside from one, and his protective wards served to blunt the worst of the second. He tumbled awkwardly, flailing in midair as he tried to shake off the bolt, and when he looked up again fey'ri warriors were closing in on him, blades bared, fierce grins on their faces.
"Fool," hissed one. "We own the sky!"
Araevin bared his teeth, and incanted the words of a spell of his own, stretching out his hand toward his foes. A scintillating blast of brilliant colors flayed the dozen nearest fey'ri. Yellow rays wreathed one in crackling electricity. Red beams scorched the wings from another. A sinister purple ray blasted one into some distant plane, banishing her from the world entirely. In the space of an instant seven fey'ri tumbled down out of the sky, some fluttering vainly to stay aloft, others already dead. Distantly Araevin noted a ragged cheer from below, as the embattled elves saw his brilliant spell and its results.
He started another spell, but a fey'ri sorcerer a short distance away from him struck Araevin with a spell that abruptly dispelled his ability to fly. Araevin plummeted toward the ground, already starting a spell to arrest his fall. But he didn't complete it quickly enough. Even as his descent slowed, he plunged through the branches of a hemlock, breaking through the boughs as they snapped under him. He landed badly on the uneven ground below the tree, stunned by the impact.
He tried to rise again, but his arms and legs didn't want to work, and his head swam. He was just about to drift off into comfortable darkness when Ilsevele and Grayth appeared at his side, scrambling down to where he lay.
"Araevin, that was the stupidest thing I've ever seen!" Ilsevele snapped. "You were outnumbered a hundred to one up there."
"It might not have been wise, but it was a valiant gesture nonetheless," said Grayth. The cleric looked up at the fight still going on around them. "No time to rest, Araevin. This battle isn't done yet, not by a long measure."
He laid his hands on Araevin and began to speak a healing prayer.
Sarya watched the battle from the vantage of her Vyshaanti platform. Off to the right of the enemy center, a brilliant prismatic blast streaked the sky. Fey'ri crumpled and fell from the air, but then the enemy mage plummeted after the daemonfey he'd defeated. She scowled, stung by the cost of the exchange. Her fey'ri were irreplaceable, and the longer the battle went on, the more of them would fall.
"This is taking too long," she growled.
Mardeiym Reithel stood next to her, arms crossed before his chest.
"The Evereskans have found help," he said. "This army is too large for them to field while maintaining the garrison our scouts have reported in the city."
"Evermeet," Sarya spat. "Who else could it be? We should have abandoned the orcs and other rabble instead of staying with them for twenty days of marching. We gave them too much time to prepare."
"Without the savage tribes, we'd have less than half the strength we do," Mardeiym answered. "They may have slowed us down, but today they're killing paleblood elves, and they're dying in place of our fey'ri. Evermeet's army would have met us sooner or later anyway."
Sarya gripped the rail of the platform, watching the battle. She longed to plunge into the fray herself, to slay with spell and talon, but she dared not. Once she immersed herself in the fight, she would be unable to exercise any form of control over her army. She could count on the fey'ri to follow orders and fight with cunning and resourcefulness, but the demons and yugoloths would take orders from no one other than her. The orc warbands and ogre marauders might break off and retreat from the unexpected Evereskan resistance without the threat of demons behind them to drive them forward.
The sinister crackle of magic rippled through the air at her shoulder. Sarya turned as a vrock suddenly appeared in a puff of sulfurous smoke. The vulture-demon carried two elven arrows snapped off in its right wing, but it seemed untroubled by the wounds.
"Lady S- Sarya," it hissed. "I have f-found the enemy commander-r. He stands th-there, a hundred yards from the s-standard."
The creature extended one filthy talon to point at a spot in the enemy center.
Sarya leaned closer to peer in the direction the demon indicated. The day was growing brighter, and while her orcs would not like that much, it was becoming easier to descry detail at a distance. She could see a small number of paleblood elves behind a strong line of Evereskan guards. Spell shields sparkled and glimmered over them. At the very least, there were some accomplished clerics and mages among that group.
"That will do," she decided. "I want those elves torn to pieces. Let's see if that disheartens the defenders a bit."
The vrock bobbed its vulturelike head. It flapped down to the high hillside below, where a great and terrible company of demons and yugoloths-vrocks and hulking, toadlike hezrous, skeletal babaus, and huge, gargoyle-like nycaloths-waited for Sarya's command. Each one of the infernal creatures on the hillside could teleport itself, appearing out of nowhere to maim and rend. At the head of the company towered the glabrezu Grushakk, a terrible monster the size of a storm giant, with four arms and a canine face whose eyes glowed red with malice. Grushakk looked up to Sarya, who flung out her arm to indicate the direction of the prey.
"There!" she cried. "If you cannot find the commander, slay any mages you see."
Grushakk howled in glee, and clacked his pincers together.
"Rise!" the demon hissed. "Now we slay!"
The other demons stirred and spat. The glabrezu barked out his commands, and the demon company vanished in a ragged volley of teleportation.
Sarya wheeled on Mardeiym and said, "Pass the word to left, to right, and to center: Press now! We want to keep any help far from those the demons attack. This is our chance."
Seiveril studied the battle from the small prominence he'd chosen for its view over the Cwm. Since the elven army had formed ranks near the eastern end of the vale, directly before the Sunset Gate, they held land that was generally higher than that their attackers had to cross to reach them. Not only did that provide the elf archers and mages with good fields of fire, it also slowed the rush of orcs and ogres, and it gave the elf commanders a good view of the entire battlefield.
A strong company of fey'ri swooped down over the Vale Guards directly in front of him, hurling their darts and blasting with deadly spells. Seiveril groaned as new gaps appeared in the ranks, elves falling to their knees with heavy javelins piercing shoulders and chests, others hurled limply through the air by jabbing forks of lightning or turned into living torches by gouts of evil fire. But the archers standing behind the infantry raised their bows and sent a storm of arrows skyward, even as the daemonfey climbed again to avoid the missiles. Fey'ri staggered in midair as arrows tore through them, spinning from the sky or simply crumpling and dropping.