Peter Brett - The Daylight War

Thamos straightened at that. ‘Then you shall have one.’ He pointed to the greatward the minds were building near New Rizon. The second oldest of the Hollow’s boroughs, it was also the most populous. ‘New Rizon has the most open ground, where our horses and archers can inflict maximum damage. If we attack there …’

‘You ent thinkin’ straight,’ Renna said as Arlen headed for the tent, well away from the troops and horses, where the crates of Leesha’s thundersticks were stacked. The foot soldiers had already begun a march to the east while the horses were readied.

Behind them, Rojer’s wives berated his recklessness, shifting back and forth between their heavily accented Thesan and rapid-fire Krasian. Arlen smiled. It was probably for the best Rojer could not understand most of what they were saying. The Jongleur wasn’t known for his temper, but he could be as stubborn and cutting as any when his back was up.

‘Straight or not, it’s the only plan we’ve got, Ren,’ Arlen said. ‘Hollow will be destroyed, we don’t get this done.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Maybe even if we do. But I ent the type to lie down and wait for the end.’

Renna shook her head. ‘Me either. Not any more, at least. But do you have to go alone?’

Arlen nodded. ‘Need to be quick. All goes to plan, I should be gone and back in an instant. Time you hear the blast, I should be back on the greatward, covering your retreat.’

‘Should,’ Renna said, not sounding convinced. Her aura was petulant, but resolved.

‘Don’t like you fighting without me any better,’ Arlen said. ‘But you seen what the count is like in a fight. Reckless. Hollow needs him right now. Trustin’ you to bring him back alive.’

Renna nodded. ‘Will. Swear by the sun.’

Arlen saw magic respond to her natural strength, flowing into her and brightening her aura. She had never looked so beautiful. He took her in his arms, kissing her deeply. ‘Love you, Renna Bales.’

Renna smiled, and even her beauty from a moment ago was eclipsed. ‘Love you, Arlen Bales.’

She turned and went to join the others. A moment later, a horn sounded and they galloped off. Arlen concentrated, pulling magic through one of the crates, Knowing its contents down to the tiniest particle. The materials were surprisingly simple, and he was confident that when the time came he would be able to reassemble them.

He turned back, taking in the graveyard, now almost empty. Leesha had moved her Gatherers to form a temporary hospit in near the fighting, and Rojer’s wives had gone with him to add their power to the attack.

They’re all going to die, you don’t time this right , his father’s voice said in his head. Should have kept ’em safe behind the wards.

Arlen gritted his teeth. Would that voice ever go away? Even now, having seen his da stand and spear a demon before his very eyes, the voice of Jeph Bales continued to counsel cowardice as wisdom in his head.

But the voice was right that the timing would be key. Arlen could sense the troops readying for their charge and knew he must wait long enough for them to draw the mind demons’ attention, but not enough for them to get fully involved. From their greatward net, they could launch a devastating counteroffensive if they felt their loss of drones was becoming too costly.

Time to be seen , he thought, and dropped into the greatward, instantly materializing behind the mustered Cutters and Wooden Soldiers. He leapt into the air, continuing upward unaffected by gravity until he reached the desired height and stopped there, taking in Hollower and demon both. He cast bright light into the night sky, startling the demons and signalling the attack.

Thamos had insisted on leading the charge. His aura had said it had something to do with Rojer’s wives, but the cause was irrelevant. No words would sway the count, so Arlen wasted none trying.

To one side of the count galloped Captain Gamon, and to the other, Gared Cutter. Gared had never been the most proficient rider, but he’d apparently taken training among the Krasians, and managed to keep his seat even as Rockslide trampled corelings, the magic in his hooves making him wild with power. Gared, too, was drinking in the magic, laying about him with his huge axe. With a single swing, he took the head from a field demon that would have taken the count’s horse out from under him.

Slightly off to the side, Renna paced them easily on Promise. The horse would still not be saddled, but Renna had got the mare to consent to a few warded harnesses to let her keep her seat and add some protection to the wards painted on the horse’s dappled coat.

The cavalry skewered or trampled dozens of field demons, killing few but leaving all dazed and unprepared for the foot soldiers who swept in behind, led by Dug and Merrem Butcher. The pair earned their name as they cut corelings apart with the same practised ease they sectioned a pig.

But then the lightning demons came down, strafing the battlefield with uniform precision, and Arlen knew the nearby mind demon had taken control.

An instant later he was back in the graveyard, performing a second Knowing on the crate to hold in his mind as he carried it down into the greatward, then deeper still, into the crust of the Ala.

All around, paths opened to his senses. Many led to the surface, while others tempted to take him farther down towards the Core, where all the magic in the world flowed from.

He ignored them, focusing on those heading upward. None were truly straight, but some reached the surface quickly, while others drifted for miles before making their way to the open air. He tasted these, sensing where they led. It was easy in the between-state — sending tendrils of himself out to explore while he stayed in one place — but there were thousands of intersecting paths, a maze one could get lost in for a lifetime and more.

Despite the confusion, the demon wards were easy to find after a few moments of concentration. The keyward of their net drew power like a whirlpool, starting at the fangs. He let the current pull him along, and was surprised at its power. For a moment he feared being sucked into it fully, his entire being devoured by the demon warding’s power. He gathered his will and pulled back just in time, finding the closest outlet to the surface and solidifying. Once on the surface he again felt the mind’s presence for an instant, but then his protective wards re-formed and his mind was cut off. He hoped it was too brief for them to notice him in turn. He pulled his personal magic as deep within himself as possible, and drew wards of confusion in the air around him to mask his presence.

He approached the greatward, feeling its power of repulsion. His part-demon nature allowed him to get closer than a normal human might, but he was still kept a good twenty yards from its border. Within, he could see the rock and wood demons working tirelessly to deepen and strengthen the lines. Other corelings patrolled the area.

He placed the crate as close to the fangs as he could, then put a foot on it and shoved hard enough to carry it much of the remaining distance without detonating. He might have thrown it, but he was getting stronger all the time, and didn’t trust his aim. If he overshot, or the crate fell into a trench and didn’t detonate on impact, it would all be for nothing.

The crate skidded to a stop perhaps ten feet from the edge. Close enough. Arlen raised a hand to draw a heat ward.

But then there was a roar, and he turned to see dozens of field demons charging his way. Arlen frowned. Despite his efforts to mask his presence, he obviously could not evade detection fully this close to the demons’ centre of power. The local mind might not have been able to pinpoint him, but it sensed enough to make it worth sending a reap to sweep the area. Whether they saw him or not, there was nowhere to hide on the open ground.