Terry Simpson: Ashes and Blood

Below them, the battle had resumed. Several Dagodin archers in support of Buneri fired arrows up toward Hardan when he backed off a few feet. Blackness streaked down from him to tear them apart. It congealed into tiny eel-like minions.

The warning gong to announce passage through the Travelshaft wailed. The sound broke Irmina from her trance of watching the netherlings fight. She dashed toward the zyphyl.

With the bells droning their arrival, Galiana stepped from the zyphyl’s grasp and opened her Matersense. Spread to her left and right, the army of Dosteri; the Mysteras’ refugees; thousands of clansmen in fur and leather, their great wolves and daggerpaws beside them; and the Matii commanded by Cantor shifted into ordered formations under the watchful eyes and yells of Weaponmasters. At first glance, one might have expected this to be a haphazard formation, but they’d been preparing for this. It showed in their rigid ranks.

She gazed out onto the city and school she once held dear. When they left Torandil, she warned everyone to expect some resistance, but she could not have anticipated what she saw before her. Chaos ruled. She couldn’t help but to stare for a moment before she collected her thoughts.

In the main square, all manner of Matii battled. The ones ahead of her were forcing another set to retreat. It didn’t take her long to discern the two sides. Those with armbands that signified their alignment with the Gray Council were losing … badly

Bodies and rubble littered once pristine flagstones. Intermingled with the reek of burned flesh, the acrid pall of smoke hung heavy, drifting into the air in gray plumes. Fire shot back and forth between the two groups. Lightning arced from the sky. Luminescent beams and bolts streaked and rippled across any distance separating the opposing forces before cutting swaths wherever they struck. Concussions rocked the plaza. Eerie screeches echoed. From what she could not tell or see. Steel rang on steel.

Where Raijin clashed against any other Matii, the fight turned quickly in the Tribunal’s favor. Only the Gray Council groups with Pathfinders offered any real resistance against them.

Tribunal cohorts reformed quickly to face Galiana and the arriving army. Comprised mainly of Dagodin brandishing sword and board or long lances, their uniforms and armor crimson to match their Ashishin counterparts, they were rigid in their discipline, unflinching with their response. At least a score of High Shin, their robes made up solely of colorful stripes, revealed themselves among the ranks. None appeared surprised or concerned by the presence of a new threat.

At their head was High Shin Neftana, her willowy form unmistakable. From Cantor’s reports, the woman should have been dead. The way she marched ahead of her forces spoke of her usual overconfidence.

Galiana signaled, and shields blossomed all around her. As Forges began in concert from the Tribunal Matii, the essences congealed, giving the air itself a thick texture. A nimbus grew, not only near them, but also spreading across and up as they drew on sunlight itself, one of the most powerful sources of the Streams.

All across the enemy lines, the cobbles lurched, once, twice, and then in waves that raced across the ground, tossing the enemy from their feet. With a rumble to challenge an avalanche, bricks and debris blasted at least forty feet into the air, taking soldiers with it.

The fountain assumed a gigantic humanoid form, twisted metal outlining a skeleton, stone blocks clacking together for muscle and body like a building creating itself without workers. Debris that should have fallen to the ground hung suspended for impossible moments before zipping into the monolith. The soldiers unlucky enough to be caught within the process were added as part of the titanic creature. Blood dribbled down its exterior. Its face formed into Halvor’s countenance. He roared, the wind from his voice billowing Galiana’s cloak.

Similar, smaller shapes followed by the thousands. In as much time as it took an eye to blink, each one resolved into Sven several times their normal height.

They smashed into the Tribunal lines. The enemy formation shattered under the impact. Armor was no match for the stoneform creatures. They swatted aside Dagodin and Ashinshin with no more regard than if they were insects.

As disciplined as the Tribunal’s armies often were, the sight of small mountains with arms and legs tearing into their ranks sent them into a panic. Ashishin lashed out with their Forges. The attacks did more damage than good as they blasted into not only Sven but their own allies as well. The Sven bellowed before massive arms swung down to turn human bodies into pulp.

Galiana cringed as she watched the decimation. Years spent fighting the Harnan and the Sven in the Nevermore Heights resurfaced. She could imagine the horror these Matii experienced. It had been the same for her.

Not all the Tribunal’s soldiers faltered. Led by High Shin and the more battle-hardened Raijin, small pockets fought together. Instead of attacking with Forges, they relied on the divya they wielded. Using the power imbued into their armor, they became little more than red streaks that darted from one Sven to the next. They delved into fighting Styles and Stances too intricate for her to follow, each one an imitation of an essence. The squeal or ping of metal meeting stoneform flesh quickly became painful bellows.

Eyes ablaze, Neftana strode forward, thin, heated lines tinged with darkness spurting from her fingers to slice through several stone and metal-encrusted legs. When the affected Sven crashed to the earth amid billows of dirt and dust, Dagodin fell upon them, spears and swords flashing as they rose and fell. The Sven buried under that melee did not rejoin the battle.

Almost an entire cohort had surrounded Halvor. Galiana gripped her robes against the urge to Forge and help him. Their plan demanded her discipline even if it meant seeing them die. Of that, Halvor had insisted.

The Svenzar let out a shout to challenge thunder. The noise broke through the din of battle, the cries of men and beast. It was as if for a moment the conflict paused. He folded his arms across his chest and tucked his head down. His Sven copied him.

“Kill them!” Neftana screamed, panic clear in her voice.

Before the first weapon struck, the surface of each Sven and the Svenzar burst like a boil pricked by a pin. A rain of earth, stone, and metal fell, much of it hanging unnaturally in the air. The creatures, now returned to their original sizes became one with the ground, sinking into it, their once hardened bodies dissolving into a muddy consistency.

The signal, at last . Tension eased from Galiana’s shoulders.

First Jerem, and then Cantor and his Pathfinders strode next to her, followed by Jerem’s Matii from Calisto. She felt the others gathering, the essences rushing into them. Raijin could manage a vast number of feats, as could Pathfinders and High Shin, but none could defend against the element of surprise.

While she watched, most of the debris changed shape in midair. It became solid. Tiny legs sprouted-legs resembling those that belonged to a spider but tipped with bone. Wild screeches echoed as the cause for the panic in Neftana’s voice became clear. By the tens of thousands, mindless gerde formed, each one half the size of a man. When they landed, they skittered across the ground, more insect than Sven, their eight legs propelling them at incredible speed. They leaped on any person close enough, spiky attachments on the ends of their feet stabbing into armor and flesh, tearing bodies asunder. The battle became a blood sea.

Keeping her expression stoic despite the bile in her throat, Galiana raised a hand. With the Pathfinders this close, she basked in the pleasure of not feeling or hearing the essences’ maddening whispers. To her right and left, standard-bearers waved flags, the Guardian Wall and the Quaking Forest flying high.