Demontech: Gulf Run by David Sherman

finish off a fallen man, being too busy dodging the swords and lances that stabbed his way.
    But there were too many Jokapcul and they were going to lose soon.
    Thunder suddenly cracked under the trees. And again and again. One, two, three Jokapcul were flung to the ground, bleeding from mortal wounds.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
came more thunder bolts, and four more lancers were tossed aside.
    Fighting paused as all heads snapped to the source of the thunder. Spinner and Haft and their men recovered almost immediately and fell on their foes with renewed vigor and violence. Veduci and his remaining men stood frozen at the sight that met their eyes. The Jokapcul saw an apparition in flowing robes heavily decorated with cabalistic symbols, holding a small demon spitter in his leveled hands, a large demon spitter slung across his back. They screamed in panic and ran. That broke Veduci and his men from their freeze and they joined the others in cutting the Jokapcul down.
    “Yes, yes,” Xundoe the mage cooed soothingly to the tiny demon that popped out of the handle of his demon weapon and piteously squeaked,
“Veedmee!”
“I’ll feed you. Just a minute here.” He fumbled open a pouch that hung from his belt and fingered out a pellet smaller than his fingertip. Gingerly, he held it out to the tiny demon, who snatched it away. The demon’s mouth stretched open until it looked larger than its entire head and it shoved the pellet in. It closed its mouth, bulging huge around the pellet, and gulped. For an instant the demon’s neck was almost as wide as its shoulders, then all sign of the pellet was gone. The demon let out a loud, contented burp and popped back inside the hand piece, slamming the door on its bottom behind itself.
    Xundoe began to look up for more Jokapcul targets; his eyes jerked back to the demon weapon in his hands and his face blanched when he heard snoring come from inside it.
    “Demon? Demon?” Xundoe squeaked, gaping at the hand piece and tapping it. “Don’t go to sleep, we need to fight!”
    “Xundoe.” Alyline pulled on his arm. “It’s all right, they ran. The fight’s over.”
    “Eh?” Xundoe peeked up from under his brows, such as they were. “Oh!” he said brightly when he saw there was no more fighting going on. “Where’d they go?” he asked, looking cautiously around for more Jokapcul.
    “They ran away when you used the demon spitter.”
    “Oh! Well!” The young mage stood erect and preened.
    “Now get your healing demons out and get to work.” Alyline strode onto the battlefield and began directing the survivors who were checking bodies, telling them where to gather the wounded for bandaging and treatment. She ordered Fletcher to take her stallion and ride to stop the caravan—and bring back more soldiers and all the healers.
    Fletcher didn’t object that she was out of line giving him orders, he merely said, “Tell Spinner where I’ve gone.”
    “Oh,” Xundoe said softly when he saw how many wounded and dead littered the ground under the trees. He led his pack mule to the area where the wounded were being gathered and flung open the chest it carried, to rummage through it for the few healing demons it contained.
    Nightbird, the healing witch who had been with them since before the original band descended into the Princedons, arrived and began helping with her potions and poultices. The Eikby healers were arriving by the time the last of the wounded were gathered in their makeshift, open-air hospital. So were more soldiers—Haft set them in a defensive perimeter to the south and sent a squad farther to scout for more approaching Jokapcul. Fletcher’s wife, Zweepee, and several women who served with her as nurses arrived with the Eikby healers.
    Once the wounded—including the Jokapcul—were gathered, Spinner set the survivors to collecting the dead; the Jokapcul went into an unceremonious pile, the dead soldiers of the band were reverently laid in lines. They