David Dalglish - The Death of Promises

They soared upward, yellow tails streaking after them as if they were comets. Hundreds upon hundreds dotted the blue, crackles of black within the heart of the flames signifying the dark magic that controlled them. With another cry, Qurrah sent them rushing toward Veldaren like a river of fire. They rained down upon the walls, the buildings, and the castle. Flesh, cloth, and wood blackened. The soldiers crossed their arms and ducked their heads. Screams lifted to the sky, first few but then many as the fires spread. Veldaren was burning.

Qurrah opened his eyes to witness the destruction of his spell. At his side, Tessanna slipped her hand back into his.

“Beautiful,” she whispered into his ear.

The priests lifted their arms and opened their mouths. Karak’s roar shook the city, this time angrier and ominous amidst the fire. Gumgog slammed the ground and roared for his army to attack. The bird-men squawked and charged the west gate, while hundreds of hyena-men yipped in earnest fervor. The archers along the walls released their first volley, and as the tips pierced the flesh of bird and hyena, Velixar lifted his eyes to the sky in thanks.

Veldaren’s purge had begun.

B ird-men to the west,” Mira shouted, using magic to escalate the volume of her voice so that all the soldiers near her heard. “Hyena-men to the south.”

“Fill them with arrows!” Antonil shouted as he ran up the stairs and joined Mira’s side. The first volley fired, the twangs of bowstrings in perfect unison. Hundreds of arrows fell upon the bird-men, piercing their tough skin and shoddy armor. They ran with their heads low and wings spread wide, so those that fell were trampled without slowing the charge. They squawked with fanatical anger and determination. A second volley lessened their numbers even further, so that by the time they neared the gate they numbered only eight hundred.

The outermost gate was made of wood, with the inner side reinforced with iron. Lacking any sort of siege weaponry, Antonil wondered what lunacy made them think they could break through. Then from his perch he saw their sharp claws shred inches into the wood, showering the ground with splinters.

“Fire at will,” he ordered his archers. “Focus on the door!”

“Yes sir,” Mira said, a grin spreading across her face. Fire swirled around her hands, begging for release. She slammed them together, unleashing a giant funnel of flame. The fire struck just before the gate, incinerating tens of the grotesque creatures. Then the spell detonated. Dozens more flew back, leaving ugly, featherless corpses in the spell’s wake. The archers along the wall assaulted the scattered remnants who tried to mass at the gate.

“Well done,” Antonil whispered. “Better than hot oil.”

“Perhaps not,” Mira said. She pointed to the greater army waiting. “I think I made a friend.”

T here,” Velixar said, his eyes locked on the fiery bomb igniting his forces on the western side. “Foolish to give away her position so early in the fight.”

Darkness clouded his fingers, but Tessanna halted his spell.

“No,” she said, glaring at the wall even as she laughed. “She’s mine. She is me, and mommy wants me dead.”

“The other daughter of balance?” the man in black wondered. He had figured the spell to be cast by Harruq’s wife. “So be it,” he said.

“Here kitty-kitty,” Tessanna said, twin red orbs of magic growing inside her palms. “Big dog’s coming and he’s coming for you!”

She threw them, the force of the spell knocking her to her knees. Mouth agape and eyes sparkling, she watched her spell.

“Get back!” Mira shouted, seeing the two orbs rotating around each other as they approached. She spread her hands wide, mentally pushing Antonil and the other archers to safety. She had but a second to cast a shielding spell before the orbs struck.

“Mira!” Lathaar shouted as half the western gate swarmed with yellow fire. The fire burned hot and died, drifting to the sky in a putrid smelling smoke. The paladin cheered as it dissipated, for hovering a foot above the wall was Mira, her hair swirling and her eyes black as night.

“Get off the wall,” she ordered the rest of the archers, who obeyed without hesitation. Antonil grabbed Lathaar’s shoulder and twisted him around to face him.

“How can she survive that?” he asked.

“Better question,” Lathaar said, pointing at the girl. “How can they survive that? ”

A solid beam of magic over ten feet wide screamed straight for Tessanna, who waited with her right arm out and her palm open. When the blast hit, she opened her eyes, dark lust inside them. The white beam parted at her fingers and swirled around her body like water parting around a stone. Her arm shook. Her body wavered.

“Help her,” Qurrah shouted, but Velixar shook his head.

“She doesn’t need help,” the man in black said. “Are you so blind to your lover’s strength?”

The beam intensified in strength, and Tessanna’s fragile body seemed ready to break, weak and insignificant versus the sheer power unleashed against her. But then she pulled back her hand and spun, her arms high above her like a dancer. Qurrah cried out, thinking the magic would shred her to pieces, but instead it swirled around her body like a funnelstorm. The white faded to red, then to black.

From within, Qurrah heard laughter.

The tornado froze with a vicious tearing sound. All its magic pulled in on itself, folding and bending into a single black orb the size of a pebble. It hovered above Tessanna’s palm, which shook as she fought to control it. Shrieking, she hurled the volatile orb back at Mira.

Mira summoned her defenses, but when the pebble hit her translucent shield she knew her mistake. Pain sheared through her mind. A white flash marked the explosion, followed by a giant eruption of lightning and smoke and darkness. Her shield broke. Her tiny body flew off the wall. Haern was there in an instant, leaping through the air to grab her in his arms. With a thought, he teleported them to the ground and put her safely down.

“The gate,” Mira cried, struggling against the assassin’s arms which pinned her. “The gate, its vulnerable, the gate is…”

“The gate will break,” Haern whispered to her. “Whether you protect it or not. Will you break with it, or regain your strength to fight again?”

Before she could answer, the great roar of the lion filled the city. It felt as if it rose from the dirt beneath them, lifting the dust and blowing the hairs on their skin. In the sudden silence following, Mira accepted his wisdom.

“Get them away from the gate,” she said, pointing to the soldiers wedged in front of it. “Hurry.”

Haern helped her to her feet and then turned, seeking Antonil.

“Get them back!” he shouted, waving both his sabers above his head to gain the guard captain’s attention. “Antonil Copernus, I said get them back!”

T arlak and Aurelia watched as the hyena-men charged with frightening speed. The first volley by the archers fell far behind the coming force. The archers compensated for the speed for their second volley, killing twenty. Twenty, out of nearly nine hundred.

“Get them arrows out there,” Sergan shouted as he paced before the locked and barred gate. “You want us to throw open the city so I can show you how to kill?”

“That can be arranged,” Tarlak mumbled as the hyena-men spread apart to lessen the damage of the third volley. The makings of a fire spell was on his lips when Aurelia grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

“Velixar is out there,” she said. “If he knows where we are, he’ll counter. Wait for them to enter the city, where our magic will go unseen.”

“Spoilsport,” Tarlak said.