The Light That Binds

by Nathan Garrison

  “Yes,” he said. “But . . . why would I need to?”

  She gave him a tight smile, then shadow-dashed off the platform.

  Smoke and scorched ruvaki bodies surrounded her as she landed. She turned to face her enemy, peering upon the back side of their frothing ranks.

  Don’t get carried away, she told herself. You just need to buy some time.

  Jasside energized, pulling power through the darkwisps that still surrounded her. Several conduits turned to face her, which was pleasing. She had not meant to be subtle. Nor did she mean to let them dictate the encounter.

  Two of them stood only a few paces apart, still apparently deciding how to deal with her. She didn’t give them the chance. Dashing, she landed between them, releasing an explosion of darkness that consumed everything within reach. Two down, along with hundreds of nearby soldiers. Not even their screams survived.

  Without pausing for breath, she sought out her next targets.

  She dashed, sweeping a black beam across three conduits. Dashed again before their wrecked bodies even struck the ground, sending dark lightning that arced towards a pair of metal-wrapped figures.

  Another dash, into the air this time. A beat of free fall, scanning. Eight targets in range. Swirling orbs, in dark mockery of the conduits’ own favored attack, plunged outward, homing in unerringly onto inhuman flesh.

  She dashed back to the ground, turned and dashed back the way she’d come. Green chaos writhed towards her now. She quickly erected a shield, which absorbed the blasts, but found herself dizzy from the chaos’s unholy stench.

  No more of that. Only dodging from now on.

  She dashed among another cluster of conduits, forming black razor-whips in her hands. Four swings at four enemies. Eight half-bodies slumped to the ground.

  Looking up, she sought more targets.

  But they had at last awakened to her presence, seeking her in return. Instead of being nervous, though, she grinned.

  Let them come. I am ready.

  The next few marks became a blur of constant motion, never staying still for more than half a beat at most, as she struck back at the dozens—then scores; then over a hundred—conduits that came at her, a task made more difficult as they began to adapt to her frenetic motions.

  They changed their attacks, seeking her out with lashes of chaos that threatened to hold her in place. And with their numerical superiority—and despite dodging them for a time—they eventually succeeded.

  Of necessity, she gave up her just-made vow to avoid shielding herself. She poured more and more energy into that personal bubble of protection, but every beat added another latched attacker, deepening the strain.

  They had her pinned.

  A quick glance around her, however, revealed that her enemy was likewise locked in place.

  I can’t hold back their energy for much longer. But that doesn’t mean I can’t . . . redirect.

  Natural darkness ever flowed just beneath the surface of all things, that layer beneath which light never touched. Of that, needing only the tiniest sliver of power, she carved channels that ran underground out from where she stood to the position of each assailant. Once formed, it was only a matter of cradling the chaotic energy they flung at her . . .

  . . . and pushing down.

  Reality itself seemed to warp around her as every last one of them exploded, torn asunder by their own power.

  Jasside sagged herself, drained to the point of collapse by her ordeal. It had been worth it though, she reckoned. Enough of the conduits had been destroyed that her allies could now begin the next phase of the battle, no matter how distasteful it might seem.

  She spied her platform, distant now, but still hovering just where she’d left it. Focusing in on the small surface area, she made one final shadow-dash.

  The thing lurched as she landed, and both of her messengers squeaked in surprise.

  “Get in touch with King Chase’s messenger,” she gasped. “Tell him it’s time to begin the retreat.”

  Arivana clutched the crossbow in shaking arms, cranking tension into the string once more. Three times they’d encountered ruvak. Three times she’d pulled the catch. She didn’t know if she’d hit anything, and a small part of her hoped that she hadn’t. The thought of taking a life, no matter that they were an enemy bent on wanton slaughter, made her stomach roil. She didn’t know if that made her a coward, or worse, a hypocrite, sending countless numbers of her own men and women to fight when she could not.

  She retrieved a bolt from her waistband and attempted to place it in the slot. It slipped from shaking fingers, twice, before she managed to complete the task. She wasn’t the only one holding an unfamiliar weapon. Over a score of civilians bore arms of some kind, most pilfered from the silent guard posts they’d visited or from the plentiful enemy corpses. Several more brandished the sword and shield of a royal guardsman.

  Light flashed in her peripheral vision, and a man gasped. Arivana turned to see Claris rise from the side of her latest patient. The woman swept her gaze around, locked on to another bleeding man, and began to step towards him.

  Rich grabbed her arm, stopping her.

  “We need to move,” he said quietly, though Arivana could still make out the words.

  Claris shot him a look of plain fury. “There are still wounded, and we’ve a responsibility to—”

  “My responsibility is to the queen! As should yours be. Once we get her to safety, we can . . . consider . . . coming back for any others.”

  Exhaling through clenched teeth, Claris nodded. Arivana felt she should say something, but no words would come.

  Rich began ordering his remaining men into motion, as Claris directed the lifting and transport of casualties. Over a dozen, though, were simply too injured to move.

  Surrounded once more by flesh and steel, Arivana let herself be led onwards. Her soul plodded numbly, every step tense with the expectation of ambush. She couldn’t stop from scanning the lip of every rooftop crowding in the sky, just waiting to glimpse another line of ruvak faces peering down with murderous intent.

  After some time, she knew not how long, the air before them brightened and the men around her all seemed to sigh in relief. Glancing through them, she could see why.

  “The shipyards,” Claris said. “We’ve reached them at last.”

  Only three hundred paces separated them now. The open ground was the most welcome thing Arivana could remember seeing.

  Without further delay, they began trotting across the gap. She saw a loaded ship take off, and another slide into its place only beats later. The crowd waiting to board had thinned since she’d last viewed it from atop her tower, but still stretched back among the outer city, fifty thousand at least. Based on the rate of incoming vessels, it would be a miracle if the ramps cleared in less than two tolls.

  I don’t know if we have that long. Not with the enemy already inside the city, able to strike from anywhere, at any time.

  Coming close to the thin line of defenders, she could see that they already had. Irregularities along the ground, which she’d dismissed at a distant glance, turned out to be a blanket of piled bodies. Though most belonged to the ruvak, far too many bore human faces.

  Rich sprinted ahead, finding and conferring with the supposed leader of the defenders. By the time the rest of them arrived, it appeared they’d already come to some decision.

  “This way, Your Majesty,” Rich said, waving her after him. Not, however, in the direction of the nearest ramp.

  “Where are we going?” Arivana asked, following him.

  “The ramps are too clogged, Your Majesty. It would take a quarter toll at least to clear you a path. But there’s a service staircase along the side of the platform. Three marks and I’ll have you on the very next ship out.”

  Arivana stopped in her tracks.

  Claris bent close a concerned visage. “Is something wrong?”

  Arivana peered across her gathered people. The masses waiting for their t
urn to board, her makeshift retinue bearing weapons that didn’t belong to them, the too few soldiers standing between them and whatever savagery might come, ready to fight through the exhaustion—physical and otherwise—that loomed large in their faces.

  “No,” she said at last. “I cannot go yet.”

  “Why the abyss not?”

  “We don’t know how many more ruvak are coming, nor how long it will take for help to arrive. Look at them!” She pointed to the weary defenders. “Does it look they could withstand another attack?”

  “It’s their—!” Claris paused, lowering her voice. “They are brave, Your Majesty. You need not be.”

  “Perhaps. But bravery without hope only creates dead heroes. If there’s even a chance I can give them the latter, a delay in my own safety seems a small price to pay.”

  Wincing, Claris nodded at last.

  Arivana turned to the crowd, then quickly glanced over at Claris. “Make them hear me,” she whispered.

  Claris lifted her hands, conjuring waves of invisible power. When Arivana next spoke, every soul within five hundred paces could hear.

  “I know most of you just want to get to safety—and who could blame you?—but too many of our soldiers have fallen to protect you for much longer. If any among you are capable, I urge you to consider taking up arms and standing with them. Stand in defense of your children, your elders, your neighbors. Stand in defense of humanity!”

  She paused, pointing at the pile of human and ruvak bodies. “There are plenty of weapons to choose from. If you are willing, please, pick one up.”

  Of those who had accompanied her through the alleyways, all who were already armed took position, and after a short moment of hesitation, many more stooped to collect swords and shields, bows, and spears, along with the chain blades and cruel-looking metal claws of the enemy.

  Mere heartbeats later, hundreds more surged out from the crowd.

  Arivana smiled. It seemed a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it warmed her to see that humanity still knew how to cling to hope even when all seemed bleak.

  A victory, it appeared, that was to be short-lived.

  Out of the alleyways and side streets, and from around the edge of the shipyards, ruvak swarmed in force. Hands still becoming accustomed to new weapons would now put them to immediate, deadly use.

  Arivana lifted her crossbow, aiming down the sights.

  She did not think she would miss this time.

  Gilshamed cursed as the ruvaki ship ducked back and the lance of energy he’d cast at it scattered across the inner face of the dome.

  Another one poked through, firing off a massive bolt of chaotic power. He thrust forward, emitting a tight beam that struck the ship’s nose. But only for a moment. It, too, retreated, long before he latched tight enough to hold it either attuned or in place. Unable to dissipate the enemy’s attack, and too weary to absorb it, Gilshamed swept light across its path, driving the bolt down into an already ravaged portion of the city. A burst of fire and smoke that was lost among countless others.

  Two more of the massive ships approached the city shield. He knew by now that one would only feint while the other dipped in, but was unsure which would do what. Taking a guess, he launched a beam for one of them, a small surge of hope welling within as he turned out lucky. Fire scraped the front edge of the enemy ship, and its shield became pearly and bright; a sign that it was attuning to light.

  But it withdrew before the effect could fully enwrap it.

  He cried out in frustration, then peered down at Vashodia. “Are you planning to help anytime soon?”

  She blinked once. The first thing she’d done in the last mark. “Patience, dear friend. I am about to. I was just waiting until the right fish swam into my net.”

  “The right . . . ? What the abyss are you babbling about?”

  “Observe.”

  Darkness snapped in a wide sphere directly in front of the ruvaki vessel nearest the dome. As if pulled by invisible rope, the skyship rushed forward, fully inside both shields in an eyeblink. The sound of rushing, sucking air crashed across Gilshamed, and he nearly toppled over backwards.

  He recovered quickly, however, and eagerly blasted it with light. The attunement took hold even before the enemy had begun to pull back.

  Vashodia cracked it open with black rays, then ripped out its heart. The ship fragmented, fell, and crashed among the city’s outskirts, expelling a cloud of dust and ash that darkened an already murky sky.

  Gilshamed glanced down at her once more. “What was that you just did?”

  “What? Oh, that. It was nothing, really. Just taking advantage of one of the more obscure natural laws.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I removed the air from in front of the ship, creating a fully empty space, and it simply could not help but leap to fill that sudden void.”

  “Can you do it again?”

  “Yes, but it’s . . . difficult to do. Time-consuming.”

  Gilshamed shrugged. “With this fickle dance they’re doing, time seems to be a resource we actually possess.”

  “As you wish, O wise master of war.” She chittered, as if she’d made a joke; though it was not one Gilshamed understood. “It will be another mark or two before I’ll be ready. Do kindly keep them—”

  Words were lost as the domicile shook, and a sky-splitting crack wracked his ears. He fell to his knees, pressing palms to each side of his head. Pain throbbed through his skull. Turning, he faced towards the center of the floating city. His heart shattered at the sight.

  Like a log taken to by an axe, the domicile had been split.

  Motion above drew his sight. Two, three, four enemy ships careened straight down from on high, barely visible through the ash-filled sky. They crashed into that rift, widening it. The crack spread across the entire breadth of the domicile, sundering it in two, and Gilshamed felt the edge upon which he stood tilt down at a dangerous angle, farther and farther, until it became clear that it had passed any hope of recovery.

  We have been fooled! Blinded by smoke and distracted by those six dancing ships, they struck where we did not think to look. The ruvak already best us in savagery and numbers. If they now prove superior in cunning . . . then we are truly lost.

  He broke harmony with his remaining kin as the surface began separating from his feet. Unfurling in a splash of golden light, he shouted to those standing behind him, “The domicile is broken. Fly free!”

  Wings sprang forth from the gathered figures: black from the mierothi, and all shades of the rainbow from the other valynkar. They each took flight and dispersed.

  He watched Vashodia descend, free-falling with the ruined structure, and considered swooping down to catch her. A moment later, though, a streak of darkness shot out from where she’d floated, quickly lost among the shattered towers below, and Gilshamed knew she would be just fine.

  An idea came to him, then. He peered up towards the other gargantuan vessel hovering halfway across the city. The Panisian greatship! If we can make it there, we can add our strength to their casters and continue the fight. The day is not yet . . .

  But then he spied rocky shapes curling down upon the vessel’s head, and could only watch it succumb to the same shattered fate as the domicile.

  The entirety of the remaining enemy fleet swarmed in through the shield dome.

  Jasside sought those points spread out among the outer city buildings like beads on a string. Each of them, over a hundred in all, throbbed with preemptively gathered energy. She held them ready, waiting until the last human soldier had passed the designated line . . .

  Not yet.

  Not yet.

  Now!

  . . . then released.

  The buildings imploded, collapsing within clouds of cold dust. Rubble filled every street and alley, mountains of it, forming a barricade that would prove treacherous to any that dared try to cross. Unfortunately no ruvak were caught by tumbling debris, this time; they’d learned to
keep their distance after the first.

  Jasside pulled her platform back another block, keeping her eyes peeled on the approaching foe as she gathered up the next batch of prepared detonations. The remains of the army—far too few in number—fled into the city; she alone guarded their retreat. Even now, ruvaki infantry began climbing over the barriers she’d made, often screeching in terror as the footing shifted beneath them, pulling them down into a crushing, choking end.

  The gap between the two forces widened by the beat, but Jasside kept piling more obstacles in the way. The wreck that had become of Panisahldron promised to slow her allies’ escape, and she knew they would need every possible moment she could give them.

  She passed suddenly between two of the outermost towers. These ones, at least, were presently free of damage. Still facing outward, Jasside addressed her messengers. “I want check-in reports from commanders every five marks. I don’t want anyone getting left behind in this mess.”

  “Aye,” they both said.

  Despite everything, Jasside allowed herself a small smile at that. The girl was finally catching on.

  Jasside waited until she sensed them return from commune. “One more thing. Make contact with King Chase. Ask him what he wants to do about—”

  Power erupted. Green fire filled the sky. The top half of the tower beside her disintegrated, flinging debris. Jasside desperately tried to throw up a shield, but a chunk of stone crashed into the platform before it could fall in place.

  Breath fleeing as she fell, Jasside glimpsed the enemy ships raking along her army’s line of retreat, and wondered, for a moment, what had happened to her allies in the sky.

  Blood sloshed against Arivana’s feet as the defenders put down the last few ruvaki warriors. Every place she could step was soaked in one rank fluid or another, but she was long past sensing the foulness around her. There was nowhere to look where it didn’t wholly dominate.

  She was just about to breathe a sigh of relief, when another horde of enemies surged into view.

  Though the defenders still outnumbered this wave, the margin was slim. Few were left who had any sort of combat training, and the difference in skill was telling; each subsequent attack had felled more humans than the last.