Terry Simpson - Ashes and Blood

An eight-foot wave of earth washed out from Delienza and her Pathfinders in a concentric circle. Part slammed into the building, shattering its supports. The other raced toward Irmina and her charges. The ground swallowed the Raijin and continued to flow outward. With a rumble, the building collapsed, Delienza and her two disappearing from view amid mortar, brick, and dust.

“Go,” Irmina yelled, once the attack dissipated against their shields.

Her Ashishin on the opposite side hadn’t managed to replicate Delienza’s feat. It wouldn’t take long for the surviving Rajin to regroup.

The driver snapped his reins. Horses whinnying, the wagon surged forward, away from the destruction. Ahead, a glow lit the skyline between the towers and spires.

“Their other attacks will follow now,” she said, remembering Quintess instructions on Raijin tactics. They would attempt for quick kills. Failing that, the Tribunal would send whoever remained.

Irmina didn’t like the idea of hurting those who might be innocent in all this, but neither could she pick and choose who to fight. These men and women were following orders. It was either her life or theirs. She had a certain attachment to hers.

All pretenses gone, they sped down the avenue, horses’ hooves clattering, leaving the screams and moans of the dying behind. Irmina glanced back and nearly tripped. She had expected to see the Raijin running after them. Instead, the Matii disappeared and then reappeared several dozen feet from their original locations. Squinting, she picked out what they did. They were leaping from one mass of light essences to the other.

“Shimmering,” Hardan said from next to her, dropping his disguise. He made a signal and two Pathfinders stopped running.

They flung their hands out from left to right. Stone and wood ripped from the buildings and zipped toward the oncoming Matii. Then as one, the Pathfinders pushed their arms to the sky and pulled down. A translucent distortion formed above their fists. They made dual motions as if pushing something of great weight away from them. Irmina gaped as swaths of air coalesced, changing the once clear, even, light into semi-opaque, undulating bands.

Whatever it was, it threw off the Raijin’s Shimmers. It was as if they slammed into walls. In response, the Raijin had to spend time working around the Pathfinder Forges.

“May the essences bless them.” Hardan’s tone radiated reverence.

For a moment, Irmina frowned before she understood what he meant. The Pathfinders intended to sacrifice themselves to buy her more time. Not allowing the shock to overcome her, she focused ahead, ignoring Hardan’s signal to have two more of his men drop off to defend. She couldn’t help but wince every time steel clashed and screams echoed from behind.

They rounded a corner leading to a large square and the road near the Travelshaft. Immediately, they drew up short. She should have felt some exultation at acquiring her destination, but that troubled sense from when she found Rohan and Edwin missing still niggled at her. When she saw the square, she knew why.

Glass, pieces of buildings, dust, blood, and bodies littered the flagstones. With the earlier sound of battle all around her, she never heard this attack. Now, it echoed with the clash of steel and the bellows and cries of those locked in combat.

The many Matii who had joined their cause struggled mightily against an army of Dagodin, Raijin, Ashishin, and High Shin all wearing the Tribunal’s crimson, gold, black or white. Where space separated them, the Tribunal’s forces cut swaths into her army with Forgings of fire and light.

Buildings burned. Flames trailed along the cobbles, petering out, blackened stone left in its wake. Where the few Pathfinders loyal to her cause tried to form shields, Raijin appeared. Exchanges of sword and knife work happened faster than any untrained eye could follow, often resulting in the Pathfinder lying in a pool of blood. Ashishin attempting to do the same met a similar fate. So concerned was her people with defense, they were unable to attack.

Toward the square’s center, a milling mass of the Tribunal’s Dagodin and Raijin fought against a clump of defenders. Among the crowd, Irmina picked out High Jin Quintess’ strained face as she sent arrows of earth out into the attackers. A flick of a hand from Berenil at her side brought lightning shooting down from the clear sky, blasting foe and friend alike from their feet. Cobalt charges sputtered across the ground where men once stood.

A hand on her shoulder brought her attention to Hardan. He pointed past the battle toward the stretch that led to the liquid, silvery monolith that was the zyphyl. Behind it, set into a large tower, the Travelshaft’s darkness loomed. Upon a balcony, dressed in full High Shin regalia, stripes covering his robes, his cloak as dead as the nonexistent wind, Buneri overlooked the square.

Irmina snarled. She’d known from the start that the man was more than he let on.

“Do not attack him.” There was a sense of urgency in Hardan’s voice she hadn’t heard before.

Confused, she frowned at him.

“I suspected but I never knew for sure. He’s a netherling. What’s inside of us is reacting too violently to this much sela for him to hide himself. If you attack him, you will break the contract that’s saving most of their lives. It’s the only thing preventing any of us from becoming physically involved against humans.”

Irmina nodded. Hardan had been insistent on their comprehension of those specific rules. She’d been unsure of his reasons until now.

“What can we do to stop him or them?” She nodded toward Buneri’s Matii.

Half of her original fifteen thousand remained. The rest were dead or dying, their bodies strewn about the square. The survivors were steadily retreating while attempting to keep Quintess and Berenil alive. Already she’d practically given up hope on assistance from Torandil. At least not in time to escape the Iluminus. However, if they managed to hold out in one of the buildings, help might yet arrive.

“You can do nothing. I, on the other hand …”

As his voice trailed off, Irmina glanced at Hardan. Eyes widening at what she saw, she almost lashed out with a Forge. She had to remind herself that she trusted him.

Hardan’s body twisted to an inhuman angle. His hand reached up and snapped his head over until it lay parallel to his shoulders. A tentacle, black as charcoal, sprouted from his neck. His body contorted, bloating then deflating as if something writhed within his armor. With a wet sound, the armor burst apart, revealing a writhing mass. Black skin stretched over muscle and sinew. A snake-like head rose up as the netherling grew. Horns sprouted from its head. Chitinous armor formed to cover the body. Four limbs, two on each side, jutted out from the rib cage. Hardan, now as a full netherling, screeched, the sound carrying across the battlefield. His eight eyes opened, milky white against the ebony of his face.

The entire battle stopped.

Darkness streaked from Hardan toward the balcony where Buneri stood. Hardan’s body followed, blurring across the distance.

“Raijin Irmina, Raijin Irmina,” a voice called, insistent, a hand tugging her arm.

Still in shock, she looked down. A Pathfinder wearing a strip of color on his arm that signified he belonged to her knelt at her feet.

“High Jin Quintess sent me to remind you of the zyphyl. She said now is the time.”

The words registered with Irmina even as she nodded absently. Yet, all she managed was to direct her attention to the balcony.

Buneri and Hardan had become a haze of whipping tentacles, strikes, and screeches. Their limbs were too hard to follow. At times it appeared Hardan had the upper hand, but Buneri slipped away on every occasion as if he was toying with him.