Энтони Райан - Queen of Fire

“Stay by me.”

She slapped Iltisʼs shoulder to get his attention and pointed to Nortah, now backing away under a furious assault from the Aspect, dodging thrusts from the surrounding Arisai as he did so. Iltis nodded and began to push through the ranks of soldiers. As they neared the edge of the formation the Lord Protector was obliged to sidestep a thrust from an Arisai, the red-gauntleted hand holding the sword flashing into the space between him and Lyrna. She hacked down with the hatchet, the blade biting through the grieve to part sever the wrist. The Arisai collapsed at her feet, looking up with a grin, rich in lust and admiration. Lyrnaʼs hatchet came down again, shattering his skull above the eyes.

Iltis cleared the outer ring of soldiers and forced the Arisai back with wide sweeps of his sword. Lyrna held out a hand to Davoka who instantly filled it with a flask, the stopper already removed. Another Arisai slipped past Iltis, sword raised level with his head for a short, expert stab at Lyrnaʼs throat. Her hand jerked reflexively, casting a stream of dark liquid from the flask directly into his eyes. The reaction was instantaneous, the Arisaiʼs sword falling from his grip as he arched his back and howled, hands scrabbling at his face, fingers digging into the flesh. Watching him collapse to writhe on the temple floor, Lyrna had the satisfaction of seeing that all vestige of a smile had vanished from his face.

Nortah was only a few feet away now, forced to a crouch by the weight of Aspect Arlynʼs blows, all delivered with a blurring fury whilst his face remained a pale mask. A trio of Arisai charged into Iltisʼs path, the combined assault forcing him to a halt, cuts appearing on his sword arm and forehead. Lyrna stepped to his side and swept the flask from left to right in a wide arc, the Mahlessaʼs compound spraying forth to spatter onto the Arisai, most of the liquid falling onto their armour but enough finding exposed flesh to send them screaming to the stone floor.

Beyond them Nortah was now on his back, scrabbling away as the Aspect loomed closer, blade flashing. The Lord Marshal fended off the blows with typical efficiency, but Lyrna noted how he still restrained himself, failing to thrust at the openings left by the Aspectʼs relentless assault.

“Aspect Arlyn!” He paused at her call, sword drawn back and sparing her only a short, incurious glance, but it was enough. The flask was empty save for a few droplets on the nozzle. She put all her strength into the throw, the flask turning end over end to collide with the Aspectʼs face. For a moment she thought it hadnʼt worked, that all the compound had been exhausted, but then saw a single glistening bead on his cheek, his face transformed into a wide-eyed, frozen scream. He sank to all fours, his sword clattering to the stones, shuddering as he fought to control the convulsions.

One of the Arisai gave a regretful chuckle and rushed forward, blade poised to strike at the Aspectʼs back, then doubled over as Nortahʼs sword stabbed up to pierce his breastplate. The Lord Marshal surged to his feet, sword moving in a silver blur as more Arisai closed in.

“Rally to Lord Nortah!” Lyrna called to the surviving Daggers. There were no more than thirty now, but all still fighting and willing to follow their queenʼs commands. She held out her hand to Davoka, taking the second flask and casting the contents at the Arisai as they surged anew, felling a dozen or more and causing the others to reel back. The sight of their comradesʼ screaming convulsions seemed to denude their humour, many smiles faltering, and their laughter fading. Pain makes them human, Lyrna decided, moving to stand with the Daggers, now formed into a greatly diminished circle, only one rank thick. Nortah stood in the centre, crouched at the Aspectʼs side, face livid with concern.

“My lord!” Lyrna snapped. “To your duties if you would!”

Nortah shot her a glance of barely concealed resentment then rose, moving to her side. “If Your Highness has any brilliant stratagem for this circumstance, I am keen to hear it.”

“Kill the enemy,” she said, tossing the empty flask aside and hefting her hatchet.

The spectre of a grin played over his lips for a second and he nodded. “What it lacks in subtlety it gains in directness, Highness.”

The Arisai edged closer, eyes fixed on Lyrna, wary for any sign of another flask. Their fallen comrades had stopped writhing and lay in rigid stillness, each face a rictus mask of agony, frozen in death. At least I taught them how to fear.

Her gaze was abruptly drawn to the templeʼs southern quadrant by a rising blossom of orange flame, accompanied by the faint tumult of combat and curiously, the yapping of enraged dogs. Any elation she felt at the sight, however, was negated by the sheer number of Arisai standing in her way; the Empress had been wise in sending an ample supply.

Another gout of flame erupted beyond the Arisai followed by some kind of commotion, too distant to make out but she discerned a certain discord in the rear of their ranks. She saw one of the Arisai who had been edging closer come to a sudden halt, standing with his sword held up before his face, turning the blade in apparent bafflement. He blinked, brow furrowed in deep confusion, then, without pause, turned to the Arisai on his left and slashed the blade across his throat. One of his companions immediately cut him down, only to draw up short himself a second later, his face also taking on the same baffled expression. This newly confused Arisai abruptly launched himself into the midst of his comrades, slashing wildly with his sword, killing three before he too was hacked down.

“What is this?” Nortah breathed. “Your Lonak elixir, Highness?”

“No.” Lyrnaʼs gaze returned to the rear of the Arisai host, seeing the enemy ranks parting as if sliced by an invisible blade, allowing a trim figure to stride through, ignored by the surrounding Arisai, who all seemed to be wearing the same identical expression of utter bemusement. Aspect Caenis strode clear of the Arisai, offering Lyrna a stiff bow, blood streaming from his nose, eyes, ears and mouth, before turning his full attention to their enemies.

Off to the right another Arisai drove his sword into the belly of the man next to him, then another and another. The discord rippled through the red ranks like a wave spreading out from a pebble tossed into a pond, but birthing a storm instead of a ripple. Soon it seemed every Arisai in sight was fighting his neighbour, hacking at each other with a ferocity that belied their baffled expressions.

Caenis stood aside, gesturing at the path he had carved through the enemy ranks. “Go!” Lyrna ordered the surviving Daggers. “Escape this place.”

But they stayed, unwilling to leave without her. She went to Caenisʼs side, seeing how he shuddered, the blood flowing in thick streams and his skin bleached white as snow. “Come, Aspect,” she said, taking hold of his hands.

“I… regret I must… abide here a while… Highness,” he replied, a red torrent escaping his mouth to cover his chin.

“Brother!” Nortah rushed forward, reaching out to grab at Caenisʼs arms but the Aspect staggered away, reeling into the whirling mass of maddened Arisai, lost to sight amidst their fury, now rising to an even greater pitch of self-destruction. Nortah started after him, restrained only by Iltis and Davoka at Lyrnaʼs shouted instruction. She ordered the Daggers to gather up the still-unconscious Aspect Arlyn and led them through the battle to the temple steps, Nortah screaming in fury as Iltis and Davoka dragged him along in her wake.

Outside there were more bodies littering the steps and the ground beyond, Arisai and Realm Guard, plus a few in the unarmoured garb of the Seventh Order. A young woman with honey blond hair knelt at the side of a plump sister, tears streaming down her face, a brace of bloodied darts clutched between her knuckles. The plump woman was plainly dead, the steps beneath her covered in blood though her body showed no sign of injury. A dozen hunting dogs surrounded them, all sunk low to the ground and uttering piteous whines. Nearby Trella Al Oren stood amidst a dozen blackened bodies, her face streaked in blood and soot. A burgeoning dust cloud rose to the east, the dark shapes of many horsemen visible at its base, blue cloaks and green — the Sixth Order and the North Guard racing to the queenʼs rescue.