by J. A. Comley
Below the Hall, Astria continued to hold her Spirits of Battle. Even with the extra burden of the late-comers, she didn't yet feel any strain. She looked over to her granddaughter, yet another one lost and found. How could she not have hope for Starla?
“Kara?”
“Yes, grandmother?” Kara's voice was distracted as she tapped into the Inagium hive-mind and saw the army approaching.
“Kara, I need you to do something very important.”
Her light-gold eyes snapped into sudden focus. “Don't ask me to hide. I won't.”
Astria smiled. “I know that. You are your mother's daughter and my granddaughter. We Hypaeon women never hide.” She winked and then drew something out from her side pocket. “Keep this hidden, but do not wear it.”
Kara took the square of black velvet and carefully lifted a corner, revealing the Star.
She looked up at her grandmother, confused. “Did I miss something?”
“Your youngest sister, Starla, is a Soreiaphin. That is half of her amulet.” She watched Kara's golden eyes open wide. “You must keep it safe for her. I believe they will return. When she does, she will need that but Kyron will single me out if it comes to open battle. I may not be there to give it to Starla. So you must. Kyron has no reason to recognise your face.”
Kara glanced at the Star again, then tucked it into the pocket of her tunic. “Starla. Nice name. How did she survive? I mean, mother was still pregnant when—” She trailed off, a lump in her throat.
Astria held her granddaughter's hand and quickly transferred the entire memory from the Dome of Stars. “Now, Kara, now we must concentrate.”
A piercing cry cut through the air, audible anywhere in the vast City. It was the magmus battle cry.
Those in the Hall watched in horror as Kyron's magmi attacked the Outer Wall. Their flames shifted from red, to purple, to blue. The Outer Wall crumbled before them like dust, rather than solid metal, quicker than anyone had thought possible. The distant boom of its collapse reached them and Niden tightened his grip on his sword.
Jensula winced at the fear that bounded back to him as he showed the other Makhi what was happening. Looking at the Makhi's face, Commander Medara knew that seeing the wall disintegrate like that had been a serious hit to the morale of everyone.
“Focus on the drodemions,” she ordered Jensula. “Show them the family members stolen by Kyron, show them Princess Kara and the hope we now have. Show them what we are fighting for.”
The Makhi obeyed. At first, the fear rose higher, but then anger flared up, hope flooded in. One by one, all the other Makhi showed him the battle readiness of the troops. He continued to scan the lines of skeletal grey figures as they marched slowly up through to the Imperial Wall. Behind them, the Magmi were melting the beautiful glass buildings to the ground, burning everything within them.
Jensula barely noticed. His hand was clutching the dark Stone in his pocket, two fingers laid over the syringe beside it. His eyes continued their relentless search for Beky.
The ground shuddered as the Tower Wall turned to dust, the six great Towers collapsing to the ground. The echoing boom rattled the windows in the old Hall.
King Eldos watched his City fall with a sorrowful expression. Still, cities could be rebuilt, if he could only protect his people. The drodemions were moving again, entering the Imperial Circle. He heard sighs of relief behind him as the magmi did not start to burn and melt everything in sight. Instead, the great beasts flew higher, circling above, like carrion birds awaiting a feast. Three magmi hovered in place. Kyron and the only two Galatians who remained loyal to him looked down on the Imperial Circle.
“Mount up,” King Eldos ordered, his command echoed by Prince Niden and General Okano.
The boys who had been tending the harknines and elpions came rushing forwards. In all the buildings which held troops, the Makhi passed on the orders and the soldiers who could all mounted up.
General Okano felt the adrenaline rise in his veins as Kyron rode his magmus in a little further behind, above the rear line of his fifty thousand drodemions. Behind them came the ergothan and grobblers. His silver eyes glowed in anticipation as the battle blood roared through his veins. In his mind, he sought the void.
“Weapons at the ready,” Commander Medara said, atop her nearly-black harknine.
Jensula passed on the message to the other Makhi, who would remain on foot. Their job, for the time being, was to shield the soldiers and help the children, boys and girls all aged between twelve and fifteen, to grab the fallen drodemion and take them to the specially crafted dungeons far beneath the palace. They were relics of another era, a time before the peace and alliance that had brought the three planets together, a peace made possible by Valana and Okano.
He readied his staff, suddenly spotting a splash of blue in the drodemion line. Unlike most drodemions, this one still had hair. White hair that fell to its waist.
“Beky is here,” he told his King.
“Good. Try and get to her. Even one Sacrileon will help us, greatly.”
Prince Niden tore his eyes from the mirror so that he could look at the faces of the men and women around him. They all looked fierce, their weapons ready, eyes glinting. Then he caught Markis and Medara's eyes and saw his own worry reflected in them. The war was upon them and their women were not here. The tightness in Okano's shoulders betrayed his worry. Without any final embrace, they would have to go to war. A fight to the death, for one side or the other.
***
Kyron brought his magmus to a hover as his drodemion troops began to enter the green between the palace front gardens and the big, white, stone building of the Hall of Justice.
“Where are they?” Kyron turned to the Baron. “You said they would have definitely come to the Imperial Circle.”
“Yes, Master, this is where they would come. But I don't—” the Baron began, trying to concentrate and keep his face smooth after what Grolen had just told him.
“Shut up, you fool!” hissed Kyron, a whip of dark magic slicing open the Baron's left cheek.
Kyron turned back, glaring at the collection of buildings below. He could merely get his magmi to burn them, but there were many here he did not wish to kill, but rather to use against Ezira. His eyes narrowed as he thought again of the strong bolt of power that had broken through his lock-down. There were only three reasons he had been able to come up with: One, Ezira had done it as a distraction to keep him from noticing Starla's arrival in Abyss Valley; two, she had actually decided to fight; or three, she had spirited every Galatian away.
While Kyron tried to stare through the buildings, the Baron turned anxiously back to Grolen.
What do you mean Kara isn't dead, not a drodemion any more?
She was cured. I don't know how. Naleiya did not say.
The Baron fumed. When Larkel had told him he had spared Kara the fire, he had not fully believed him, although the burst of real feeling it had given him was hard to resist. It had been so long since he had felt anything but emptiness and hate. In it, he had been faced with the true dark and empty nature of his life until then. He knew, now, why Starla's lips had tormented him so, why they reminded him so relentlessly of Kara. They were almost the exact shape as her sister's.
Can you be sure she spoke the truth? he asked, habit making it hard for him to trust anyone.
No.
Then Grolen disconnected, the mental bond vanishing. He narrowed his grey eyes at the Makhi, then flinched as Kyron spoke to him again.
“Is there any other plan they might have had?” Kyron asked the Baron, still staring down at the ground.
“No, master,” Braxton lied smoothly, knowing full well that Medara would have planned an ambush.
“They would not have run?”
“No.” The Baron had no need to fake his sincerity now. Despite his lingering hate of the King for the orders he had given regarding the tainted people, he knew Eldos was no coward.
Kyron hissed at the Baro
n's unhelpfulness. When he spoke again, his cold voice was horribly amplified. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, as if thousands of Kyrons spoke.
“I do not fight cowards!” he boomed. “Show yourselves!”
Down in the bunker, the few hundred people who could not fight trembled in fear as Kyron's voice slithered through the walls, reaching each of them as if he were whispering directly in their ears. Babies began to wail and the toddlers cried, hiding their faces, clinging to the nearest adult.
Astria glanced meaningfully at Kara. Kara nodded, passing some of her strength to her grandmother. More glowing birds appeared and entered those around them.
“Fear nothing,” Astria said. Her voice sounded calm and sure, but Kara could see the real fear in her eyes.
Slowly, those around them calmed, clinging to the magical hope that filled them.
Above them, the leading party watched the mirror, ignoring the hissing voice. The fifty thousand-strong drodemion army had halted just where they hoped it would.
High Commander Medara gave a smile that was closer to a snarl. “Perfect.”
“On my command,” the King said.
Jensula moaned.
“Look.” He pointed at the mirror when the others glanced back at him. “See the blue? That is Beky.”
When they saw her, they understood. The drodemions were in a rough circle formation. Concentric rows going round and round. In the very centre, stood Beky, surrounded by a solid ring of drodemion shamans.
“Then keep yourself safe and out of sight until we have cut a swathe to her,” the King said. “Commander, this will be your task. We need Beky.”
Medara nodded, her young face grim.
“To war!” the King bellowed, his cry taken up by those in the hall as they surged forward towards the doors that Jensula threw open with magic, even as he sent the King's command out to the other parties.
Kyron's eyes hardened at the cry that had emanated from the Hall of Justice, echoing over and over from all directions, growing in volume.
The thunder of hooves shattered the still air as ten thousand harknines and sixty thousand elpions barrelled into the drodemions, covering three quarters of the circle. More troops, thousands more, on foot, ran behind them, screaming their war cry. Walls of metal were suddenly pulled up from the ground as the two handfuls of surviving Cosmaltian Brosneys linked together to block the ergothan and grobblers from joining the fray.
Kyron turned a deadly look on the Baron. “You said they didn't have the numbers for an ambush, you—” He trailed off as he spotted a standard fluttering above one of the huge, blue beasts. A white cyrion bird. Ezira. She was not here, herself, but she had unleashed all of Aurelia's warriors on him.
Kyron let out a string of curses as he set to using magic to determine the exact number of enemy troops, completely ignoring his falling drodemions.
The Baron heaved a silent, heartfelt sigh as Kyron's attention was drawn away from him. He pressed his hand against his still-bleeding cheek. It was imperative neither he nor Grolen drew the wrong kind of attention before the High Lord and Starla got here.
He exchanged a loaded look with Grolen. Looking less than happy, the Makhi opened the connection.
How far behind do you think they are?
The anxious edge to the Baron's thoughts was like a jagged knife in Grolen's mind. He winced.
Depending on how soon they left after I was there and what sort of travel mode they will use, an hour. Maybe more if they are on foot. Now, no more. He will notice.
The Baron gritted his teeth as the connection was slammed shut. An hour may be too long.
He looked down at the battlefield, anxious to try and guess the time they had before Kyron got bored, but even more anxious to find Kara, to see her again. As his grey eyes flickered between the battling bodies, he was extremely relieved not to find her. He knew he would attack Kyron bodily if Kara fell before his eyes, their careful plans be damned.
Commander Medara slashed through yet another drodemion, narrowly avoiding the grasping nails and searching jaws trying to turn her. She found herself in a small pocket of space. All around her, allied troops and drodemions fought.
She drew a deep breath, taking stock of their situation from atop her harknine.
Most of the Aurelian warriors were still mounted on their elpions, a sea of grey littering the floor around them. She watched as the boys and girls trained hastily for this grisly task darted in and out of the rear lines, dragging away the prone drodemions and racing them to the dark hole in the ground that was the entrance to the newly-Brosney-made tunnel, depositing the prone bodies directly into the ancient dungeons.
She winced as a drodemion, fallen but not run through, grabbed at a boy, biting into his shoulder. Then it dropped him, staggering towards a soldier. The child screamed and writhed, convulsing as spontaneous red flames turned him into one of the dreaded creatures. His brother, working with him, drew a small, glowing dagger and struck him in the neck, tears streaming down his too-young face as he held his brother tightly, keeping the clawing hands away until they stopped moving.
She glanced at the Makhi, who, for the moment, didn't have much to do. They were ready, and every now and then, their shields were visible as the drodemions collided with them. She smiled. They were trying to funnel the drodemions to make it even easier for their army to cut them down.
Her smile faded. Most of the civilian troops seemed to be losing, transforming everywhere she looked, even though it still meant they were winning. Her thoughts grew darker. They were winning only because Kyron hadn't yet joined the fray. He hadn't even given a command since it all began. She glanced up at the alpha magmus, Kyron's red head just visible from this angle.
From the corner of her eye, the Commander had just enough warning to duck out of the way as a drodemion lunged at her. Cleanly, she sliced just the edge of her sword through the creature's neck. With a grim smile, Medara rushed toward another drodemion.
Prince Niden jumped back as a drodemion tried to bite his leg. Dancing around it, he quickly wiped his blade again as the yellow glow started to fade. Three Cosmaltians were transformed around him and he cut into them as soon as the flames died. His first attacker lunged again. Hardening his heart, the Prince drove his blade through the chest of the child-sized creature.
The Lightless Tree stood dark and empty. Ezira snarled in frustration. Though she could not enter the Tree, she could still sense the energies it stored. The amulet was not here.
Why do mortals never obey orders?
Okano had clearly taken the Star with the army, her plan for keeping it out of Kyron's grasp ruined.
She looked to the horizon, the barren landscape offering few obstacles, as if she could see past the rim of the planet to Galatia and the battle that ensued there. Now, all their hopes rested on one untrained Soreiaphin, who may not even have the courage to unlock her powers. She had seen the fear of death in Starla's heart. She could only hope that wasn't what the amulet demanded. Lifting her face to the sky, she let out a cry, her staff flashing through the air.
“Enough!” Kyron's voice boomed overhead. “Kill them!” he hissed at his drodemions, who began to drag swords out from their backs.
King Eldos looked around as the civilian troops began to fall even faster, their red blood pooling over the skeletal forms on the ground. Everywhere, men and women were dying. His hope that those in Abyss Valley would return in time diminished as each new victim fell.
Bellowing, he rushed to the aid of the nearest civilian group, sword drawn, his harknine's breath puffing in and out in great gusts as it kicked out and trampled the nearest drodemion with glowing yellow hooves.
Kyron's cold laugh fell over them.
“You are not even prepared to kill!” he exclaimed, his eyes finally picking out what the children were doing, his magical senses just making out the magical qualities of the glowing blades. No wonder he had felt no tangible increase to his powers. “Perhaps my magmi can
teach you just how unwise mercy is.”
The magmi dove at an unseen command, spewing fire over the fallen and fighting.
General Okano reared his elpion away from the flames as they burned through drodemion and allied soldier alike.
Then the Makhi were attacking. Spells rent the air, sending the magmi off course, or slicing into the great winged beasts.
Kyron snarled. “Your powers are useless against mine.” He raised his staff, taking aim at the Makhi contingent.
A jet of blue light rammed into his personal shield. His magmus reared up in fright. His cold eyes scanned the battlefield for a moment before he found her.
Astria was standing tall, facing him with no trace of fear. Around her, the troops rallied, buoyed by her appearance. Kyron's momentary distraction allowed the Makhi to successfully drive off the magmi.
She had come up, not being able to stand another second of seeing in her mind what the Inagium up here were seeing. Her friends, her people, dying because of this monster.
Kyron hissed at her. “I have already beaten you once, Astria. This time I won't leave you alive!” A malicious smile appeared on his lips as he raised his staff and sent a Curse at the old Inagium Queen.
It shattered a few feet from his target, like a glittering, green firework.
Looking up in confusion, Kyron's eyes were suddenly ablaze with unrestrained fury and hate as a giant, white cyrion bird appeared in the air above the allied army.
They cheered Ezira as she swooped down on Kyron, her cyrion bird lashing out at his magmus with its six deadly talons, her red braids billowing like a cape behind her. His magmus screeched and reared before he got it under control, six deep wounds across its face.
Ezira and Kyron locked eyes, their staves both held at the ready. Then, as the fighting resumed beneath them, the sky seemed to explode as both Demilain waved their staves overhead.