The smaller demon--snared in the grip of the glyphs, wounded by ice and by arrow and now by spear--shrieks, tearing blindly. Its panic gets it nowhere. Paralysis leaves it an easy target, and after Mal's second spearthrust, even its defense is a mere scrabble. The first of the wardens advance as two of their number fall on it, to finish what was started.

Now it's the larger demon, the mage. Caught between Nathaniel and Merril, Mal and Anders and Jeyne and the hidden away kitten, plus the wardens--the demon blazes like a brazier. Nathaniel's arrow bores into its throat; the demon staggers. Ice hisses, sizzles, melts and freezes and melts again--and the demon swells, with a bellow.

The ceiling beams crackle; the demon crackles. With a burst of savage energy, it bashes aside two of the wardens with a wide-flung clubbed arm. The blow splinters their shields, throws them into the wall--and it swings back again with that same arm, in the other direction, to do the same for that remaining first line of defense.