Cerah watched as they flew out of sight. “Zenk is no longer a factor,” Tressida said to her.
Again, Cerah scanned the boiling sky for a glimpse of the demon and his gargantuan flying beast. “Tress, surely you must see him somewhere!” she said.
The golden queen looked first to the left, then right. “I see nothing,” she said.
Meanwhile, the battle raged. Slurr’s new strategy was paying dividends. As each wave of Surok’s forces jumped, climbed, or fell from the decks of the many ships, the Army of Quadar was positioned to deal with them. Cerah watched as hundreds of Silumans fell dead in the shallow water before ever reaching the shore, as Slurr’s archers cut them down. The Silestra fought in their usual style, warring not only with weapon but with teeth and brute strength. As a whole, they seemed to be more effective here on the shores of Sejira than they had been at Oz Qanoti, and the units assigned to battle them, made up of men and women who had demonstrated the stoutest hearts and the highest levels of valor, were finding that they had their hands full.
Cerah began to grow frustrated waiting for the appearance of Surok. “Tress, fly us close to that area there,” she said, pointing to one of the skirmishes that the Silestra seemed to be winning. As soon as the golden dragon flew within their sightline, the Silestra faltered. Many stopped fighting altogether as they pointed to the sky. “It is her! Beware the killing word!” one cried in the horrid, broken voice that characterized the wicked race.
Indeed, just having the Chosen One near was enough to turn the tide, but Cerah was not content to be a catalyst only. Gazing at the black hides of the giant Silestra, she remembered the morning that the assassins sent for her had killed and mutilated her brother, Beru. Three times she focused on a Silestran that had raised a weapon to strike one of her warriors, and three times she quietly spoke a single word: “Apart!” As had been the case that dreadful day at Opatta’s Rest, the head of the Silestran upon which her spell was cast burst, spraying all those near it with gore. While it seemed to rally her troops, it clearly devastated the morale of the monsters. The warriors were able to quickly rout the remaining Silestra in the group.
Cerah repeated this maneuver several times, as bands of Silestra engaged the human warriors in several locations. Each time, the outcome was the same. No matter the measure of success they were enjoying prior to her appearance, the fearsome beasts were simply horrified of this farm girl turned Chosen One. This fact made Tressida laugh. Cerah heard the dragon’s snicker in her mind and gave her a quick pat on the neck in acknowledgment. She knew exactly why Tress was laughing but was far too busy shifting her concentration between the battle raging below her and the boiling sky above.
“Were we mistaken about these unnatural clouds, Tress?” she asked the dragon. “He must be somewhere near. Why can’t we see him?”
“As you have said many times, what we know about Surok we are learning in bits and pieces. Parnasus was able to tell you of his experience with him so long ago, but that consisted of little more than seeing him, then seeing him bound. He learned little about the demon other than the fact that he had created the Silestra. Everything else we know is either from what you saw when you Went Within or from what he has done since this war began. I wish I could answer your questions. I wish I could lead you to him now, but I cannot.”
“I know, Tress. I know.” She looked down again and saw that, at least for the moment, she could do much more good by assisting in the battle, rather than hold back in wait for the appearance of Surok. “Just keep an eye out for him,” she said to the dragon.
While it initially appeared that the Silumans, who Slurr now feared more than he did either the karvats or the Silestra, would essentially be a non-factor in this battle, the general, fighting a small group of karvats that had made it that far, quickly saw that this assumption was incorrect. For the Silumans that continued to pour off the ships in great numbers began to grab their fallen brethren and use the arrow-riddled corpses as shields. As Slurr dodged the wide, arcing swing of a karvat battle axe while simultaneously driving Gorshinda deep into the creature’s body, he shouted to Peel Farka whose unit was nearby.
“Farka! The Silumans are breaking through. They’re using bodies as shields. Attack them!”
“Oh yes!” Peel replied, his face drawn into a thin, odious smile, “I hates me some Silumans too!” He ordered his men and women to charge the oncoming wave, and they met on the dry sand just beyond where the waves broke farthest before receding and carrying back the blood and corpses of monster and human alike.
As soon as Slurr and the warriors near him had dispatched the karvats, he too raced forward to strike the Silumans. He found them to be a fearsome enemy. Physical pain apparently meant nothing to them. They continued to fight even after sustaining wounds that would totally incapacitate a human. More than once did the general observe one of the dreadful creatures bend down to take the weapon from his own severed arm with the hand of the remaining limb and begin striking anew, just as ferociously.
Smooth ran forward to help Slurr, who was fending off the swords of three of the creatures. “They fight until they’re bloody dead! Maybe even after!” he exclaimed, striking a killing blow to one, only to have another stand atop the fallen creature and continue the attack.
“I guess we’ll have to make them all dead, then,” said Slurr as he, too, killed a Siluman, cleaving off its head with the Riddue sword that Zayan had made for him. Its keen blade passed through the monster’s thick neck like a hot knife through freshly churned agorrah butter.
As Loar turned to meet a charging Siluman, another rushed toward him from behind, his jagged sword raised high above his head. Slurr was too far from his captain to be able to help him, but just as he was about to shout a warning to him, an arrow struck the creature in the back of the skull. Slurr turned toward the shore and saw Zayan standing with his bow, already nocking another shaft.
The battle raged for hours. At certain points, the human army seemed to be driving the monsters back into the sea. At other times, the dark tide seemed to be pushing its way ashore. Cerah saw all of this as she and the other wizards circled, attacking from above. More than once, Cerah watched proudly as one of the riderless red dragons flew down to snatch an enemy soldier in each claw while grabbing another with its mouth. She watched proudly, but within her there was no true feeling of pride, just as the sight of the Silestra triggered memories of hatred and rage, but none of the feelings of those emotions. Even in the heart of battle, Ma’uzzi’s “gift” to her, the removal of her emotions and thereby the removal of the chance she could be compromised by them, remained in full force.
Suddenly, the sky was filled with a flash of lightning that tore across it and seemed to extend for miles. The clap of thunder that followed almost instantly was deafening. Cerah held her hands to her ears as it rumbled. But when she looked down once more, she saw that the discharge seemed to have been some sort of signal to Surok’s forces. They began to retreat to the ships, walking backward into the water, still fighting the humans who, upon seeing the withdrawal, moved to press their advantage.
Slurr now stood beside Loar Pilta and Peel Farka. “What are they thinking?” he said. “They ran their ships aground. There will be no refuge for them there. We can simply attack them on the boats!”
“I don’t get it either,” said Smooth. “As soon as that bloody huge thunderclap sounded, they started moving back.”
From above, Cerah posed the same question to Kern, who had flown to her side. “Are they so stupid to think the ships will save them?”
Kern wore an expression of puzzlement and concern. “I think there may be more to this retreat than what we are seeing,” he said nervously.
Even as he was finishing his sentence, another flash tore through the sky, followed again by another deafening crash of thunder. This time, however, as the electricity lit the sky such that it was briefly as bright as a clear day, Tressida’s head turned quickly so that she was looking far out to
sea.
“There he is!” she said.
Cerah’s sight turned in the same direction. Many miles out, she could see something that looked like little more than a small smear in the sky, silhouetted against the flash. “Are you sure, Tress?”
“I can see him and his dragon-thing clearly, Cerah,” she said, the slightest hint of offense in her tone.
“Of course, you can, darling,” Cerah said. “I just need to be sure. Let’s go!” She gave Tressida’s sides a nudge with her knees and the dragon, who was now several hundred feet inland, turned and prepared to race across the ocean to bring Cerah to her chief foe.
But as she began to fly, a huge gust of wind buffeted her head-on. She beat her wings with all her power, but could not move forward more than a few, hard-gained inches. At the same moment, a third flash lit the sky, this one clearly emanating from the distant place Cerah was so desperately trying to reach. And this time, the jagged flash did not merely peal across the sky but dipped down and struck the grounded ships. Before the humans’ and wizards’ amazed eyes, the vessels, to which the vast majority of the demon’s forces had now returned, rose out of the water. Hanging suspended some twenty feet above the surface, the dripping ships turned simultaneously, so that their bows were now pointed out to sea. A moment later, they were lowered once more and, as soon as their hulls were back in water, their sails instantly were filled with the otherworldly cold wind that had blown inland since the battle had begun, now switching directions and gusting away from the land. To be sure, more than one of the dark vessels had been so thoroughly damaged by the dragons’ attack that as they moved into deep water they quickly sank, but far more of them receded into the distance much faster than a sailing craft should be able to move.
Once she had realized that Tressida’s monumental efforts were getting them nowhere, she had told the queen to stop trying and had rejoined Kern. Near the shore, the wind did not seem to be blowing at all. Only over the water did Cerah find it overwhelming Tressida’s attempt. She realized that Surok was creating a gust that somehow blew inland and out to sea at the same time.
Yarren flew Valosa to where Kern and Cerah hovered. “Shall we pursue?” he asked.
Kern turned to Cerah. “Shall we?”
“No, we’ll wait. I sense that this encounter is not yet over.”
Even as the ships grew smaller and soon disappeared from view, the black clouds remained. By now, the sun should have been well along its trek across the sky, but Surok’s weather still blotted it out.
“If he has gone, why do the clouds remain?” Tressida asked Cerah.
She lowered her head and closed her eyes for a moment, saying nothing. After only a moment, her head shot up once more. “Fly to Thresh, Tress,” she said, then to Kern added, “Rally the wizards to follow.”
As she soared toward the port city, Cerah dipped Tressida low enough to shout to Slurr, “Back to the port! Bring the army to Thresh!” He waved in acknowledgement, then passed the order on to his leaders. The warriors began to run south toward the city.
The grassland that Cerah had seen in her vision matched the plain where the battle had been fought and, indeed, when the ships appeared, she assumed that she had been right to bring the army and the wizards here. But now as she flew the several miles to Thresh she felt as though a lump of burning coal was growing in her stomach. Has he outsmarted me once more? Was the port his real target? During the several hours of fighting, no messengers had arrived from Thresh to say that the city was under attack, but she could not deny the deepening feeling of dread.
As the flight approached the city, however, she saw no signs of the devastation which had greeted them upon arriving at Niliph. The citizens of Thresh, many armed themselves, lined the docks of the port and waved their hands as the wizards approached.
But when Cerah and Tressida touched down by the pier, a man named Kyryn Dross, one of the lead citizens of the port city, ran to her as she slid off Tress’s back.
“Chosen One!” he called, pointing in the direction of the city. “You must see. You must see what has appeared.”
The harbor was bustling with people. “Tress, wait for me here. It’s too crowded for you to come safely through unless you phase down, and I want you big if I need you quickly.”
“Of course,” was the queen’s reply. Her trust of Cerah was such that she felt no need to question the suggestion.
Kern had dismounted Szalmi and raced to Cerah’s side. “What is it, Cerah?” he asked, as they hurried together through the crowd.
“Dross says something has ‘appeared.’ I don’t know what he’s talking about.”
As they followed the man through the throng, Cerah saw that many wizards had also left their match mates behind and followed closely. Russa and Yarren, who never strayed far from her if they could help it, were on her heels.
After several minutes, they made their way to a place called The Home Market which, unlike the bustling harbor, was the place where goods were sold mainly for the consumption of the people of Thresh themselves. Much smaller than the vast structure of the harbor area, it was nonetheless a sizable space. And standing dead center in the market, towering fifty feet tall, was Surok.
Or rather, his image. As the wizards drew near to it, they saw that this was not the demon himself but instead some form of soaring sculpture of the heinous creature. It had the appearance of having been carved from a single shining ebony-colored stone, although, Cerah thought, it was far larger than any single stone she had ever seen. The only part of it that wasn’t black were its two shimmering red eyes.
For quite some time, no one did anything. The wizards, as well as the crowd of Threshians that had gathered, merely stood mute, staring at the colossal abomination. As Cerah stole a glance toward the sky, she saw that the eye of the swirling black clouds seemed to be directly above the looming effigy.
A short time later, Slurr, breathing heavily from the exertion of the run from the battle site to the city, pushed his way through the crowd to join his wife. Not long after that, Parnasus approached from the west side of the market. Behind him, a small cart, which had been fashioned into a rolling cage, was being pulled by an extremely scruffy looking three-eyed he-grote. Inside it was Zenk, still encircled in the First-Elder’s binding spell. Apparently, the seal enchantment was holding firmly as well. The traitor said nothing as Parnasus came to a stop by Cerah’s side.
“What do you make of this?” Slurr asked the First-Elder.
“He is mocking us. There can be no mistake about that. While we were engaged with his forces he must have conjured this. For what purpose, other than to show us that he could, I do not know.”
Just then, though muted by the seal spell, the group heard the muffled sound of laughter coming from the rolling cage. They turned to see that where Zenk should have been, there now stood a tightly bound karvat.
“Another deception!” cried Parnasus. “This is not Zenk at all, but rather a filthy karvat bewitched to look like him. I thought the voice sounded all wrong. How could I have been so easily fooled?”
The karvat’s laughter grew so raucous that he fell to the floor of the cage, rolling in the straw that lined it. Suddenly, however, the laughter stopped. Cerah saw the karvat sit up straight and turn toward the likeness.
Closest to the statue was a circle of civilians from the city, all of whom had been standing there, gawking at the gigantic abomination, when Cerah had arrived. At once, all fell to their knees as if pushed down. Then the morning air was torn by the booming, horrid sound of the voice of Surok. Only Cerah had heard it before, as he’d responded to her challenge when she Went Within to tell him she was coming to kill him. She felt that it was what steaming lava and shattered glass would sound like if they could speak. Although the effigy’s mouth did not move, the words were clear.
“That is right! Bow before your master! Do not believe that because I have brought my force back out to sea that I am done with you, contemptable slime! When I am fini
shed wiping your kind from my next target, I will be back to eradicate you as well. And do not dare to dream that these impotent spell-casters or your rag-tag army will be the least bit of help to you when that time comes. I am the evil that is from before the before, and I will make this paltry planet my shattered playground.”
Even as Surok’s voice continued to boom, wizards ran to the people who continued to kneel before the statue. They first attempted to cast clearing spells, in hopes of freeing them from whatever conjuration Surok had hurled to make them bow in supplication to the form, but they could not reverse it, so they instead attempted to physically help them to their feet. Again, they were unable to straighten them, as their muscles seemed locked in this position. Parnasus called to them, “At least carry them away from the effigy. Maybe if they are moved they will recover.”
Now laughter sounded from the statue, as well as from the blithering karvat, who commenced once more to thrash about on the wagon’s floor. Again, Surok’s voice boomed out. “Carry them away for now. When I return, all will bow and, while bowing, die!”
Cerah had been watching all this dispassionately. She knew that the mollification of the gesticulating people should make her blood boil, but it didn’t. She felt no anger, no hatred. And even now the demon seemed not to see her, speaking to the people of Thresh. He must now realize that she was part of the battle group, but he did not speak as though he knew she was there. Cerah felt it was time to let him know that she was. Apparently, Ma’uzzi still wanted her to feel nothing, but that didn’t mean she had to do nothing.
“Enough, fiend!” Cerah shouted, her own voice taking on a darker timbre that made Slurr jump at the sound of it. She dashed toward the statue, Isurra held firmly in her right hand.
“Wait, Cerah!” Slurr called, following her, but she did not slow.
When she was about five feet from the base of the statue, she brought the Riddue staff-blade high above her head.
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