Thanks to everyone who made a comment! Hope you enjoy this chapter!
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The hideous corruption of Mother Selcrie had been yesterday... or that was at least Milyn's guess, considering there was no way to tell time from inside her isolated cell. But some of the ruffians had come by three times to give her food and drink, so she supposed it might have been a day. The constant, dull terror weighed on her mind so heavily she felt it might drive her mad. She kept praying, but it was largely by rote by now. Honestly, she could feel no connection to the One God here. He certainly hadn't helped Mother Selcrie, but instead let her be twisted into some sort of monster. But then, perhaps her faith just hadn't been strong enough.
Everything seemed unreal. She hadn't been able to sleep at all; there was nothing other than the stool in the room, and the stone floor was both hard and cold. Her thin habit was of no use in keeping her warm, and shivers wracked her body constantly. As much as she dreaded the tall man coming and committing whatever dishonors he had planned, at this point she wished he would hurry up and get it over with.
All at once, a tremendous blast of sound shook the cell, shaking the ground so hard that Milyn toppled over on her stool. Shouts and the sounds of running feet came faintly from outside. A few minutes later, the clash of weapons crossing echoes in the corridor outside. Sobbing in sudden, insane hope, she began pounding as hard as she could on the door.
"Help! Help me! I'm locked in here! Help!"
She struck the hard wood until her hands were bruised and bleeding. At last, there was a click from the lock, and the door opened with a grating sound. Milyn smiled through her tears as she saw a warrior in the threshold, his white tabard blazoned with the golden circle of the One God.
"Sister!" The man exclaimed. "My name is Father Hoyt. Please, we must leave at once! Follow me!"
He led her confidently through the maze of passageways, passing the still, bloody forms of bandits and Church soldiers. The sounds of fighting still echoed all around them. In the upper halls, where the ceiling was taller and windows let in the late afternoon light, they came upon a skirmish; two warriors in white battling a man whom Milyn recognized as the Captain of the scoundrels. Broad-shouldered and thick-necked, he fought the ferocious intensity of an enraged bull, wielding a two-handed sword that dripped gore. Even as Father Hoyt hesitated, obviously torn as to whether to get Milyn to safety or to go to the aid of his comrades, the Captain smashed a gauntleted hand into one of his opponent's faces, sending the man reeling back with a broken nose, then gutted the other, opening him from belly to collarbone.
Father Hoyt seized Milyn's arm and pulled her through a door, closing and locking it behind them as the last soldier's death-cry reached their ears. His face had gone very pale. "Hurry Sister! We are nearly out. We must get away! Their forces are stronger than we had thought."
Milyn did her best to keep up, fear lending the illusion of strength to her limbs. They burst outside, and came upon another contingent of Church Soldiers fighting to keep control of the square. She felt faint as the panorama of blood and death impacted her. A few of the other Sisters were huddled on the steps, their white faces stupefied in terror, and Milyn went to join them.
Father Hoyt grabbed the shoulder of another soldier and pulled him in close. "Sergeant, we have to get out! The rest of the rescue party inside is dead, or as good as. Where are Selsehtiriel and Haephremanoel?"
"They said something about cutting the head off the serpent, and flew up to the top of the manor! Then there was that explosion... haven't seen them since, sir!"
Father Hoyt grimaced. "Get every soldier and form a wedge! We'll-"
Another great roar of sound rocked the air, and fighting died down as everyone looked towards the noise. A bay of broken windows on the top floor gaped like the mouth of some great monster, with shards of glass for teeth, and only darkness within. A body was hurled violently from within, arching out into nothingness in a completely uncontrolled tumble. It impacted on the stones of the square with a sickening thud, coming to rest in a broken tangle of arms, legs... and wings?
*Oh dear God*, Milyn realized in a flash. *An angel of the Lord. What could kill an angel?*
A roar of fury issued from above, and Milyn looked back up, and into glory.
Two winged figures had issued from within and were battling in the air above their heads. One was clearly another angel of the One God, a female form radiating golden majesty, held aloft by snowy wings and bearing a sword of pure crystal that bled pure light. The other figure was recognizable as the tall man even at this distance, bourne aloft by wings of black fire. A whip formed of the same black flame flowed from the tip of his rod, and he lashed at the angel with an expression of cruelty fixed on his face.
"Selsehtiriel!" Father Hoyt gasped, looking at the embattled angel.
The angel look as if she were trying to disengage and escape, but the tall man would not let her flee. She dodged desperately to the side to avoid the whip, but it suddenly split into two tongues of flame; one wrapping around her sword, twisting it from her grasp, and hurling it aside. Darting closer, he batted aside her ineffectual strikes and seized her by the throat. Drifting lower over the square, he dragged Selsehtiriel with him as she clawed at his pinioning grip.
"Lay down your arms, men of the Church, or I will snap this harlot's neck!"
Father Hoyt sneered in response. "Archers, shoot him down!" As a hail of darts arched skyward, forcing the tall man to veer away abruptly, he formed his remaining soldiers into a fighting wedge, the freed Sisters at the center, and drove towards the gate.
