Pug saw the fliers attacking the dragon illusion and Pug responded with a lance of purple light that caused one flier to burst into flames above the dragon. As the flaming corpse fell, it passed completely through the dragon and several other demons realized something was amiss.

“They’re stupid,” said Gulamendis, “but not that stupid. They’ll turn on us in a minute.”

Pug shot out another bolt of energy and said, “If we can hold out for another ten, fifteen minutes, the marines from Roldem should be the first here.”

As more demons swarmed into view, Gulamendis said, “I think they’re going to be overmatched unless we can help.”

“We’ll help,” said Pug.

Gulamendis used his ward and reached out and took control of the largest demon he could clearly see and set it to attacking its neighbor. It didn’t take much provocation for that conflict to spill over into a free-for-all as several other nearby demons were drawn in.

“Something is breaking down in their conditioning, Pug. These are battle demons and they’re reverting to their old habits and starting to create makeshift alliances and start fighting for domination.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea, but I think that whatever was controlling them is losing command of them.”

As they watched, the demons began to turn on one another. Enough of those continued to rush the small building that Pug was forced to use all his skills to knock them back with another pulse of energy. “I can’t keep doing this all day,” he said, obviously fatigued. “There are so many of them.”

“If they fully turn on themselves, we just need to bar this door.” The Demon Master again selected a demon in the fray and had it turn on its neighbor. Then the illusion of the dragon vanished.

“That tears it,” said Laromendis, coming out of his trance. “I’ve got little left to offer.” He pulled out the wand he had harbored since they had fled the battle of Hub and pointed it at a particularly nasty beast charging the door. It went down in convulsions as energy consumed it.

Pug said, “I wish I knew what was going on below.” He pushed aside thoughts of his son and the others and returned his attention to the battle before him.

Amirantha held up in the shadows, uncertain of what was occurring before him. He saw Jim Dasher hugging the wall by the door; the only hint the noble turned spy was there was the odd refraction of the light at the door’s edge, which moved slightly, and if Amirantha stared at it for a moment, he could make out the vague shape of a man along the edge of the visual boundary between the door and the room beyond.