Fingers now well-practiced, yet cramped from overuse, she began cranking her crossbow once more. Men and women around her picked themselves back up, forming what only vaguely resembled a united front as the enemy closed, screeching and frothing in rage. She pulled a bolt from her waistband, realizing it was the last one she carried.
If we don’t get help soon, this may very well be our end.
The gap between species closed. Arivana lifted her weapon.
Jets of fire and spikes of freezing darkness ripped across the ruvak . . .
From above.
Arivana craned her neck, watching dozens of valynkar and mierothi swoop in as they rained down sorcerous destruction. She gasped for joy, tears flowing freely.
The enemy retreated, only to run into the waiting spears of Phelupari soldiers, who had flanked them from behind. More of those island warriors sprinted into place between the civilians and the ruvak, trapping them as surely as a set of closing jaws.
It took less than a mark for the last foe to fall.
A bright violet light descended, touching down gently next to Arivana. She squinted through the glare, but was only able to recognize the woman once she dismissed her wings. The resemblance to Tassariel was evident.
“Lashriel, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Yes,” the woman answered. “And you must be Queen Arivana. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now. I can’t thank you enough for arriving as you did.”
“I’m only sorry we could not get here sooner. The streets were riddled with ruvak, and we thought it best to engage rather than leave them unchecked at our backs.”
“A wise decision,” Claris said, stepping over corpses to reach them. “Though difficult to make, I’m sure.”
Lashriel shrugged. “I’m just glad to see we were not too late.”
Almost, you were, but I will not hold that against you.
“Come,” Arivana said. “Let’s get the rest of these people to a ship.”
“You especially,” Claris barked, pointed an accusatory finger.
Arivana shook her head. “Not until the last citizen is gone. Thankfully, that won’t be very long.”
The crowd waiting to board had dwindled to almost nothing, the last in line already halfway up the ramp. Even now they crept farther forward as another flock of evacuation ships set down and opened their doors. The nightmare’s end was in sight.
“I wish you well,” Lashriel said. “But our kind still have work to do. I just received word that the defenses have failed.”
“Failed?” Arivana said, swinging her eyes back over her city. “How can that—”
The domicile . . . the house greatship . . . they were missing from the sky. All shapes that filled it now were of ruvak design.
Crushing weight. Cold below the waist. Numb. Head spinning, sitting in something wet. I can still breathe, though, even if it feels like my lungs are full of ash.
Jasside opened her eyes. Her initial self-examination complete, she now needed to take stock of her surroundings. She turned her head and was immediately struck by a hoarse fit of coughing. She cleared her throat and spit.
A wedge of stone lay atop her, pressing her hip bones into the cobbled street. With far more effort than it should have taken, she energized. Soft licks of power cradled the weight and lifted it off her. She swept it away with a bit more force than was necessary, then regretted it instantly as the world began swirling without mercy.
Got to take it easy.
Jasside turned her energy inward, probing herself for injury. Two ribs and her left forearm were broken. The back of her head was split. Too many small lacerations to count. Clenching her teeth, she got to work repairing the damage.
Three marks later, it was done.
Maybe not good as new, but right now I’ll settle for being able to move.
Groaning, she got to her feet. She lifted her head to try to locate her missing messengers. They couldn’t have fallen far. If they were still alive—
No. Not if. I will find them and bring them to safety. Or die trying.
She dusted off her leather outfit, then began clambering over the scattered debris. Straining with each step, she picked her way in the direction most filled with heaps of stone, where she thought them most likely to be found. Sulfur rasped against the inside of her nose and throat, lingering residue from the ruvaki attack, and the sound of enemy screeching echoed faintly between buildings. She estimated they were still several blocks away.
Coming around a corner, though, proved this guess dead wrong.
Hundreds of ruvak leapt into sight, just fifty paces away. Beneath one cluster of them lay what she took to be two bundles of bloody rags.
A closer look revealed the sordid truth.
Drinn . . . Tarlene . . . I’m . . .
Sorry just didn’t seem to be enough. Nothing would make up for this.
Nothing.
The enemy spotted her, including five conduits. Chaotic orbs swirled towards her as the foot soldiers rushed forward.
Numb and weak, and eyes filled with shameful tears, Jasside turned and shadow-dashed away.
“They’re getting closer,” Claris whispered from over Arivana’s shoulder. “Soon we won’t even be able to bring in additional ships. Please, Your Majesty. Get on.”
Arivana guided the line of frayed humanity up the steps of another ship, giving and receiving blessings with all that her heart could bear. “If that happens, I will march out with the soldiers.”
“That’s mad—!” Claris clamped her jaw shut, practicing control of her breathing. “That course of action is not advised.”
“Duly noted. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m trying to help these people board. Lend a hand or get out of the way.”
Claris sighed, then moved away. After a moment, Arivana looked over to see the woman aiding those in line for the next ship over.
At last, something to smile about.
A flash of sorcerous energy snapped nearby, causing her to jump. The fighting was indeed getting closer. Wings of valynkar and mierothi, along with the scant remaining combat ships, waged a frenzied, hopeless battle against those ruvaki vessels that had penetrated this deep into the city; few so far, but growing more numerous with every passing mark.
“All full!” a voice called from the ship. Arivana regretfully halted the line, urging the rest back a ways to leave enough room for liftoff. Thankfully, though, there were only a handful of people left.
Sparing another glance behind, Arivana saw a welcome sight.
The army, marching clear of the city.
As glad as she was to see that they’d at least made it this far, there didn’t seem to be enough of them. Over half a million soldiers had been tasked to stand in the city’s defense, but even her most generous estimate couldn’t pretend to number them greater than three hundred thousand.
So many lost. Dead in numbers I can’t even fathom. And their sacrifice did not even buy us victory.
Arivana shook her head, fighting tears as she watched the evacuation ships depart. She didn’t see any others flying in to take their place.
“Claris? Please tell me that wasn’t the last of them?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I don’t sense any others approaching. I’m afraid we’ll have to—” Her eyebrows lifted. “Wait! Look!”
Arivana swept her eyes to the west, out away from the city. A single vessel, relatively small, darted out from the hills. As it neared it became clearer, and she at last recognized the shape of it.
It seemed fitting that the final rescue vessel should be her own royal skyship.
The tension in the remaining crowd bled out as the ship made its descent, the last exhale of people who’d seen more horror in one day that any lifetime should have to bear. A rush of air announced touchdown. Those waiting began ambling forward even before the short stairway had slid into place. Arivana stood by the entrance, guiding them on
as before.
She knew her skyship, however; knew its limitations on deck space. Those still left to board thinned to almost nothing, but available room grew thinner still. It soon became apparent that not everyone would make it on.
Several men volunteered to get off to make room for the last of the women. Claris sidled up to Arivana’s side.
“Please tell me there’s no reason now to object?” the woman said. “Whatever hope you might have inspired in your people by your actions today will be undone, and then some, if you don’t see to your own safety. As much as I hate to say it, some lives are more important than others.”
Arivana glanced around at the few people left. Although she knew the loss of those holding important positions would be detrimental to a nation, she had a hard time valuing any one life above another. Even her own. Perhaps it was naïve or idealistic of her—perhaps it was the last part of her childhood that refused to die—but she’d rather live in a world where each soul was considered precious than blindly accept an alternative reality.
An oddity struck her vision, and she sent seeking glances to find it again. There, hiding behind the legs of some of the men, stood a child: a boy no more than five. Arivana ran and knelt before him, peering into his eyes. Long-dried tear marks streaked down dirt-covered cheeks. His gaze didn’t seem able to stay focused on anything around him. Blood—both orange and red—speckled the sleeves of his shirt.
“I don’t think you’re right,” Arivana said, glancing over at Claris. “But if you are, then lives such as these are the ones most worth saving.”
She picked up the boy. After a moment where his limbs dangled numbly, he seemed to grasp the fact of human contact and wrapped both arms and legs around her tightly. She brought him to the ship and looked up at the cramped deck, making deliberate eye contact with a pair of women pressed closest to the entrance.
“He won’t take up much space,” Arivana began. “Surely there’s room for just one more.”
The ladies reached down without a word and, after the few beats it took him to let go, pulled the child up into their arms. Arivana stepped back, watching as the stairs retracted and the ship made ready its departure.
“You keep surprising me, Your Majesty,” Claris said. “But I think I’m starting to catch on to just who you are, and what kind of queen you will become. I can only imagine what the history books will say.”
“I do not care about my legacy, Claris. I just want to do what’s best for my people. For all of humanity.”
Claris chuckled. “Thus are legends born.”
Sighing, Arivana dropped her eyes. The army now marched around and past the launching platforms, heading out towards the jungle and the long, dangerous trek ahead. She didn’t exactly look forward to traveling with them, but neither would she deny herself any hardship others were forced to undertake.
Only Claris, six male civilians, and Richlen—along with five surviving guardsmen from the palace—stood with her still. She graced them all with a queenly, heartfelt smile.
“It looks like we have a march ahead of us,” she said, then swept an arm across the surrounding army. “But at least we won’t lack for company!”
Despite the day’s trials, the poor attempt at humor managed to draw a laugh from them all. With Rich taking the lead, the company took their first, final steps out of the city together, angling to join the nearest formation of soldiers.
We mustn’t lose hope. No matter what. Even if I’m the only one still clinging to it, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure it never dies.
Her skyship at last took to the air. Arivana looked up and waved. Nearly everyone along the nearest edge, peering down over the rail, waved back, including one small boy whose name she didn’t even know. It was well, though; they had escaped the slaughter at last.
A misshapen object smeared across the sky, just above and beyond the retreating royal skyship, with a wing of mierothi and valynkar close behind in pursuit. Darkness enfolded the enemy vessel, and light blasted it apart. Like a rock, it began to fall.
She felt time stand still.
With an ache that knew no limit to its depth, Arivana watched the ruvaki vessel crash into the ship she once called her own, exploding with virulent, grim finality.
She fell to her knees and screamed in terror. Even as the soldiers—upon Claris’s orders—picked her up and hurried her from the city, she continued to wail, in disbelief, in rage, until her voice went hoarse and she could scream no more.
In an abandoned tower along Panisahldron’s southern edge, Vashodia waited. She watched over the burning city, counting the thump of footsteps as they ascended the stone staircase behind her. The door creaked open at her back, but she didn’t turn.
“Only six, Feralt?” she said. “A bit of a light catch, wouldn’t you say? I expected better of you.”
She heard his shoulders rise in a shrug. “Times have gotten . . . uncertain . . . as of late. Risking one’s neck for a favor is a bargain most aren’t willing to make. Even if the favor is from you.”
“A pity, then. Looks like my rewards will have to be spread deep instead of wide.” She spun to face him and flashed a sharp-toothed grin. “Perhaps that’s what you had in mind?”
Feralt shook his head. “I didn’t have much time to go fishing. This lot—” he jerked a thumb at the six other daeloth behind him “—were the only ones to bite.”
Vashodia giggled. “Very well. I have no problem seeing that you all get your just due. Provided,” she said, lifting a finger, “that the service does not suffer.”
“We’ll get the job done, all right.” Clearing his throat, he leaned forward and added, “You . . . uh . . . ready to tell us what it is?”
“In a moment.” She twisted back towards the city. “First, observe.”
Vashodia energized, reaching out with her power to stroke the mechanisms that sustained the protective domes over Panisahldron. A few flicks of energy in just the right place, and their purpose, their functionality, changed.
The shroud of darkness began collapsing.
And the one formed of light? Why, it was inside the other and had no choice but to do the same.
All that leftover energy, and all those ruvaki ships—I can’t let this opportunity go to waste!
The twin shields fell over the city like a net, catching every last enemy vessel within the perimeter. Attuned to light, then smashed by dark, they fell from the sky like the hollowed-out rocks that they were. The daeloth looked on in wonder.
“Now,” Vashodia said, as if nothing of note had happened. “I want each of you to first bring me back one prisoner. Alive, of course, with bonus points given for those recovered most whole.”
“First?” Feralt said. “What else could you possibly want done?”
She smiled. “Why, once our new friends are gathered, we’re going to go snare us a ship of course!”
Chapter 6
Yandumar was the first to step onto the beach. The tide shrugged up against sands baking in the desert sun, waves lapping at his boots as he surveyed the landing site. Empty of all signs of life, the beach stretched past the horizon to either side, bending out of sight within shimmers of heat and haze. The fine grains crunching beneath his feet swept upwards 150 paces from the waterline, then gave way to low, turbulent hills of orange clay. Leagues distant, he could just make out white, rolling crests of sand dunes.
Mevon leapt off the ship’s grounded prow to splash down at his side. “So,” he said, “this is the place.”
“The land where my exile began,” Yandumar said, lifting his arms in a mock embrace of the wasteland before him. “Welcome to Weskara, son.”
It, of course, had not been the original plan to come here. They’d receive word a week ago from Jasside, however, wherein she’d told them about the loss of Panisahldron, and the subsequent withdrawal from the southern nations. By the time his armada would have made it there, all friendly faces would have been long gone.
So they’d tu
rned north instead, shortening the trip considerably, and now prepared to make landfall where two deserts, one massive mountain range, and a thousand leagues separated them from the bulk of their allies.
The war—if it could be called that—had not been going well.
Mevon bent down, scooping up wet sand, then squeezed his hand into a fist. A strange gleam dominated his eyes. It took Yandumar a moment to realize why.
“Foreign soil,” Yandumar said. “I guess I’m the only one who won’t be seeing it for the first time.”
Mevon nodded. “Even with it here in my grasp, I have a hard time believing it. The Shroud . . . it just was, you know? As much a part of daily life as the sun.” He grunted humorously. “I suppose we have your former employer to thank for taking it down.”
“Ha! Employer indeed. Vashodia was the puppeteer, and I, just one more of her countless dancing dolls. You might almost call me lucky, though. She at least let me know she was nailing in the strings.”
“Yes, but it sounds like Jasside is doing most of the pulling nowadays. A change I think we can both agree is for the better.”
“Aye,” Yandumar said, even though he still wondered if hers weren’t being pulled as well.
He’d never known Vashodia to bow out of any game, especially not one she started herself. Yandumar was certain she still had the biggest influence on the way things were playing out.
In fact, I’d bet my empire on it.
“Well,” Mevon said, sweeping both arms along the breadth of the beach. “Will this do?”
Sighing, Yandumar nodded. He turned, tilting his neck to peer up at his flagship’s prow where Orbrahn stood waiting. “Go ahead,” he called. “Tell the armada to start the landing. I want every soldier on dry soil by nightfall.”
Orbrahn cast an incredulous gaze across the horizon. “You certainly have the ‘dry’ part of that right, old man, but I’m not sure if any of this can rightly be called soil.”
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