A roar of impossible volume, like a thousand lions voicing rage at once, shook the abbey. It began as a teeth-jarring shriek and ran down the scale until it seemed to grind at the very stones of the building. Bolts of energy lashed out, seemingly in random directions, and where they struck, destruction ensued. Stones seemed to crumble under the onslaught, whatever was flammable was set afire, and any water touched by the bolts exploded into clouds of steam.
They watched as Micah left the building, striding out to stand below the spinning disk. As if anticipating, he raised his hammer above his head as another bolt of energy lashed downward, blinding those who watched from the door. When the initial blaze of white died down, they could see Micah standing upright, hammer held overhead as the crackling energies cascaded around him, scattering in broken spectrum, so that all the colors of the rainbow danced within the inferno. The very ground at his feet smoked and burned, but he was unharmed. Then the flow of energy halted, and in an instant Micah had pulled back his hammer and made his throw. Almost too quick for the eye to follow, the hammer left his hand and became a blur of blue-white energy as bright and blinding as its target. Higher than was possible for a man to throw, the bolt of flame sped, striking the blazing disk dead center. It seemed to bounce off the disk, and the blue bolt returned to Micah’s hand. The thing lashed out at Micah again, but once more he was protected by the hammer’s mystic powers. Again he cast his hammer as soon as the rain of light ceased, striking it at the heart. As the hammer returned, those inside the abbey could see that the thing was beginning to wobble slightly as it spun. A third time he cast his hammer and it struck. Suddenly there was a rending sound, a tearing so loud that Arutha and the others were forced to cover their ears. The circling spheres shattered, and from the center of each plunged small alien shapes. With a wet, plopping noise they struck the ground, wiggled grotesquely, and began to smoke. A high keening shriek filled the night as they erupted into brilliant flame. No one could discern the true forms of the creatures from the spheres, but Arutha was filled with a sense it was something best left undiscovered, for in the instant they ignited, the shapes resembled nothing so much as horribly disfigured babies. Then the night was silent, as a rain of sparkling colors, like fine motes of glass star stuff, began to fall on the abbey. One by one the motes flared and winked out, until the old monk stood silently in the court, his war hammer held before him.
Those who stood in the shelter of the abbey looked at one another, astonishment on their faces. For a long moment they said nothing, then they began to relax. “That was . . . incredible,” said Laurie. “I don’t know if I could find the words to describe it.”
Arutha was about to speak, but something in the way Jimmy and Martin both cocked their heads to one side made him stop. Jimmy said, “I hear something.” They all stood silent for a moment, then could hear a distant sound, as if some great bird or bat flapped giant wings in the night.
Jimmy ran from the building before anyone could stop him, nearly spinning as he scanned every quarter of the night sky. Looking back over the roof of the abbey, toward the north, he saw something that made his eyes widen. “Banath!” he exclaimed and dashed to where the old monk still stood, unmoving and silent. Micah seemed in some sort of trance, eyes closed. Jimmy gripped his arm and shook him. “Look:” he shouted as the monk opened his eyes.
Micah looked to where the boy pointed. Blotting out the large moon in the night sky was something that flew toward the abbey, propelled on giant, powerful wings. Instantly the monk shoved the boy away. “Run!”
The push sent Jimmy away from the abbey, so he raced across the courtyard to where a lone wagon sat, filled with fodder for the stables, and dove under it. With a roll and a turn, he lay still, watching.