“If I close my eyes, there are no demons up on that ridge.”

Laromendis peeked over the rise and studied for a moment, then said, “Something is odd.”

“What do you see?”

“Be silent, but watch for a few minutes, then tell me what you see.”

The two brothers ventured another look at the demons on the ridge, now less than a couple of hundred yards away. Even from this distance the forms were massive and could clearly be seen.

The Demon King stood with his arms crossed over his obscenely large stomach, his face a mask of evil glee as he glared down on the struggle with burning red eyes. Suddenly his hand shot up into the air and he motioned, as if urging his followers onward, but no more reinforcements were coming. “Why is he signaling the attack when it is almost done?” asked Laromendis.

“Because he’s not signaling an attack. Come with me,” said Gulamendis as he crouched and hurried along just below the circling rocks that shielded them from sight.

They scurried along, keeping out of sight as best they could, then when they were closer than Laromendis felt comfortable with, Gulamendis said, “Look, brother!”

They peered at the assembled demons and saw the Demon King signal the attack again. “What—?” Then Laromendis closed his eyes. “I’m a fool. It’s a conjuration.”

“A very good illusion, from what I can tell. Anyone else, even you, dear brother, who can’t sense demons, isn’t going to get close enough to see that this is all a trick of lights and magic.”

“But why?”

“We can ponder that later,” said Gulamendis. “We need to find a way home, or at least somewhere away from here. Those demons came from somewhere else, and why they were lured here to be slaughtered by their own kind is a matter for another time; right now we need to see if there’s a gate of some sort down that side of the mountain.”

He hurried, unconcerned about being seen by the illusions nearby, and Laromendis followed. The fatigue of days of privation were offset by the excitement of possibly finding a safe route off this desert planet, and they moved as beings possessed.

As they moved below the illusions, they found a wide trail, and realized it was freshly trampled by thousands of feet. “Well, now we know the attacking army is real,” said Laromendis.

“Demons can’t be fooled that long,” said his brother. “I thought you’d have discovered that when they started ignoring your conjurations and started attacking us.”

“I thought perhaps in a melee, with blood and screaming demons on all sides, they might not have the facility to judge if there was enough demon stench in the air,” said the Conjurer as they descended quickly down the trail, almost running.

“Point taken,” conceded his brother. “Still, you’re the Conjurer. Could you create the illusion of an army on that scale?”