Danie Ware - Ecko Rising

He raised the banner, waved it high and clear.

“I’m here, you stone bastards. You see me? Right here! You know who I am!”

They closed on him, smoke rising, the air shimmering, the heat making his mare sweat under him. He counted three, four, five of them – six – that was enough.

With a jab of his heels, he jumped the animal through the closest gap and ran her for the river.

And they came after him, needing to tear him down.

* * *

With a splintering crash, the barrel exploded, shattering like ribs upon the hard ground.

A wave of water hissed over burning uprights, wooden stalls, spread out through the packed-hard mud. Steam plumed into the air. One of stone creatures was caught by the outwash. It paused, as though confused, rocked back and forth on the spot for a moment, then tried to come for them.

One step, two – and there were cracks in the stone. The red light limning its muscles had faded, steam poured from the joints – and the supercooling rock cracked, split.

A third step and it crumbled, shapeless grey stones lost in the blackened mud.

Whooping like an idiot, the archer commander ran for the next barrel.

* * *

They were fast!

Waving the banner like a madman, he was upright in his stirrups, shouting at them – daring them to chase him down and tear his city from his very flesh. And they came on, driven, the fight around them forgotten – they were fixated by him, and they were going to rip him apart.

He broke out of the smoke, suddenly he was blinking in the dusk light. Ahead of him, the river sparkled, it ran wide and swift, fed by waters from Irahlau, Vanskraat, Blinn, Aldarien, the very Kartiah themselves.

The map in his mind was so clear.

“Come on then,” he said to himself. “Don’t falter now.”

The city walls flashed by to his side – amazingly, there were spectators standing there – pointing at him and nudging their companions. Were they damned insane? He didn’t have time to think about it. Below the decorated stone, the empty skeleton of the Great Fayre tessellated slowly into the harbour – river boats bobbed, abandoned. Birds wheeled over them, crying mournfully at the smoke and the noise.

The scent of water filled the air – sweet, fresh.

Deep.

They were almost on him now – claws reaching for the mare’s rump. She jumped, flicked her heels at them. He fell forwards sharply, winding himself on the saddle pommel.

Reminding himself he wasn’t Banned, he sat back down.

“Come on then!” Waving the banner across the morning, back and forth, back and forth, he was shouting still. “I’m Larred Jade – and I’ll damned well teach you to burn my city!”

And he ran the mare out onto the wharf.

* * *

Watching the CityWarden vanish into the smoke with six of the beasties after him, Rika wondered if the old sod had finally lost his mind.

Around her, all was wheeling, screaming turmoil. The cavalry had lost its formation almost instantly. She could see the remnant of the shield wall, still hanging together, though harried at both flanks. From somewhere in front of her came a second splintering wooden crash.

The creatures had scattered – they seemed to be everywhere. A flicker of red light, a flash of sullen eyes, a shout, a scream. Abandoning their useless terhnwood spears, many of the foot-fighters had resorted to shield bashing – haphazard and dangerous.

Even as she turned, trying to see what was round her, she saw a shield catch light, gutter and flare into angry life.

The fighter threw it from him, went for his belt-blade.

He was already dead.

Rika was impressed with her Lord’s courage and wit – but less sure that six of the creatures had made that much of a difference.

As the fighter scuttled backwards, breaking the line and slashing at the incoming creature, she wondered, with crazed clarity, if the city would live to see the morning.

* * *

Jade halted the mare at the very foot of the L-shaped wharf, her hindquarters dipping as she skidded on wet wood.

As she turned, river behind her sparkling in the sunset, the stone creatures were still piling forward, hard and fast, eyes fixed. They left charred, hissing imprints where their club feet slammed, echoing, on the heavy planking.

He waved the banner at them, taunting.

“You kill me, the city’s as good as yours. Come on, you bastards, I’m here.”

Noiseless but for the rapid thump-thump-thump of their step, they came on – swift, eager, burning, claws reaching to rend.

The wharf was shaking beneath them, wood charring and splitting. The mare teetered over the water.

She skittered her hooves as he gathered her to leap.

As they came for her, eyes red, he held her until the very last moment... Then they sprang sideways, skidding out of reach.

The hairs of her tail were caught in the stone claws of the lead creature.

It ran straight over wharf’s edge into the sparkling morning water of the Great Cemothen River.

And sank without a trace.

* * *

With a crash, the shield wall gave, shattered, splintered wood, staggering fighters, shouts of fear and fury. No longer defended, each fighter was alone, spinning to see what was round him, coughing in the smoke.

One man fell back, clinging to his broken arm – shards of shield still hung crazily from the handle and strapping.

Through the gap, an arrowhead of creatures came tearing, ripping to left and right. Broken now, the foot-fighters scattered, falling back. Some rallied into groups, huddled into mini-defensive formations, spears bristling, daring the creatures to come near.

And they did, stamping the shields down, ripping them loose and tearing into the soft flesh beneath.

Rika had dropped her useless spear, hung her big, kite-shaped shield on her arm. One savage slam from the shield rim and the stone creature before her was down.

She had no idea where Jade had gone. Grabbing the attention of the wild-eyed drummer, she roared at him to sound the regroup.

Roviarath wasn’t going down without a fight.

* * *

Tumbling, splashes. Two, three, four of them.

A hiss of angry steam.

He turned his mare in time to see the fifth creature hesitate – and the last one run slam into it, sending them both over the edge.

The waters parted, swallowed them whole. Steam billowed, a glow in the sunset.

And there was quiet.

Jade sat stunned, he thought he could hear cheering. Birds rose, crying, into the darkening sky.

For a moment that seemed endless, he wanted to cheer back. He waved the banner at them, could hear them, faintly, “Lar-red Jade! Lar-red Jade!” He found a lump in his throat – clenched his jaw, blinked.

But they were only six – the walls of his city were still beset, flame poured from the empty marketplace, smoke swirled thick through the air. He could still hear the screams and shouts of combat.

He touched his heels to the mare’s flanks, and, banner streaming, raced back into the mêlée.

* * *

Rika was screaming through the stamping of hooves, the drum-pounding, the mayhem.

“To me! To me !”

The creatures were loosed, determined and silent, faceless and pitted and grey. She could see them through the smoke, red lines of heat, watch them as they slashed one way and then the other.

Their lack of expression was the most frightening thing of all.

The shield wall had disintegrated under their onslaught, the archers had stopped shooting. Scattered battles ranged round her – one on one, the fighters were no match for the stone claws of the monsters and they were being shredded, left to die in the mud. Jade had gone, they needed to rally.

“To me !”