Danie Ware - Ecko Rising

“Meaning the terhnwood, my Lord. Where is our life manifest if not in the grass, in the harvest, in the life of the Varchinde? Rhan murdered your father, hurt your mother and he will pay. It is your time now.”

She turned, pale face and white cloak, the might of her forefathers graven in the stone behind her.

“Your vision is compelling, Phylos. I want to make decisions, to remember the strength of the Valiembor House.” She extended her hand to him. “You’ll help me?”

“My lord, your mother –”

“My mother is broken –”

“Your mother is livid. ” He met her eyes, took her slim hand in his own, ran his thumb softly across her skin. “But you’re right, she’s lost her objectivity – at least for the moment.”

“Then you’ll stand with me, Phylos? Help me steer the city through the chaos to come?”

“I will, my Lord.” In a billow of scarlet, the Merchant Master sank to his knees, bent over the girl’s hand. “As the Gods are my... No.” He looked up at her, sincerity in every line of his face and being. “As you are my witness, Selana, Lord and daughter of Lords, I give you my life and swear that I will stand by you, defend and protect you; that I will guard this city as though she were my lover –” his hand tightened on hers, eyes searched her face “– and carry her to a future of glory and strength.”

She was staring at him, transfixed.

He came to his feet in a rush, a paean of hope. “ We will save the Grasslands, Selana, you and I!”

And she was in his arms, slight and soft and pliant, her breath as sweet as summer sunrise.

19: SENTINEL

THE MONUMENT

There was a red and jagged flash, a wound in the sky that split the grey clouds right down to the plain. There was an instant – the stallion on his hind legs, his huge body black against the Monument’s radiance. There was wet grass, shouts snatched away by the wind – and then everything screamed into motion.

His starlites flooded by the flash, Ecko kicked his heatseeker – the stallion was chill skinned in the rain but its body heat was a furnace. It was red hearted, red souled. Behind it, the Monument glowed like a kiln, a crucible of potential.

As the adrenaline jumped, everything swam, slowed. He shot forward, the grass buffeting him. He watched the colours that were the centaur’s legs, its claws, but his targeters crossed its weakest point.

One foot in the bollocks and this thing was going down.

On the creature’s other side, the heat signature of the axeman was slow in comparison – but as inevitable as a well-thrown rock. Both axes went for the fetlock on its rear leg. The bones were delicate; even on this monster, they’d splinter like dry wood. Hack the fucker off at the ankles – Ecko liked this guy’s style.

In front of the beast, still spitting fury, the goldie girl Triqueta was outmatched and overwhelmed by the monster, a hot glow of anger against the cold mass of sky. She had no bridle – how the hell she controlled that critter, he’d no fucking clue – but she surged the horse out of range as blue-cold claws grasped at the air.

Her horse was freaked, dancing like she’d electro-jabbed it.

He spared a moment to hope that Tarvi and the chearl had gained the cover of the inside of the bank...

And his cross hairs targeted. Damn thing had balls the size of –

But the stallion was too smart.

From the colossal, upright rear, it went over – one staggeringly powerful jump that took it away from feet and axes, past where Triqueta timed her turn. For just an instant, its belly was cold blue against the sky, one side highlighted red by the stones’ glow, then it landed in the thick, wet grass and its rear claws smashed out at anything following.

It lurched, spun round, teeth bared and foreclaws ripping the grass into a mangled mess of mud and fury. Its too-human eyes were demented with reflected light.

The rain glittered as if the air was broken.

“You presume ?” It sounded amused. “Creature-created I am, you have no skills to match me.”

“Sure I do.” Ecko shrugged. Rain soaked his skin. “You wanna find out?”

The two mares closed, now, to flank him. They were smaller, high breasted and heavy shouldered with the same core glow and cold skin. Both bore curved bows and disdainful expressions – water ran in streams from their hide.

The sky flashed again, red as blood, red as the ’bot’s target-scan, the thunder was low overhead. In the open plain, the rain was hammering merciless, it slashed into them like blade fragments.

Ecko kicked out his heatseeker to check weapons.

In one fluid move, all three creatures nocked, drew and loosed.

In elegant slo-mo, three featherless shafts ripped through the wet air, flexing with the force of the shot.

At the axeman.

Their strength was deadly, their aim impeccable. Ecko spared a second to wonder what the hell the draw was on those fucking things...

No idiot, the axeman was moving, perfectly practiced, rolling sideways below the level of the grass tops.

Adrenaline hot, Ecko started to grin.

As the stallion screamed fury and denial, there was a shadow, red eyed, darting more swiftly than the shafts themselves. His targeters blipped – once, twice, three times – plotted the arc. One arm swept, wet cloak flowing behind it – and the missiles were knocked wide. Lost in the grass.

And he was was gone again – a phantom in the darkness.

The axeman got as far as “What – ?” before Ecko’s harsh rasp shouted over the downpour, “So, ‘creature-created’. What else you got?”

The second volley came straight for him.

He cackled... and he was simply no longer there. After a world of nerve-contacted firearms, a bow and arrow just didn’t have a fucking prayer.

“Nice try, Sagittarius – you might wanna invest in some sights .”

The beast bellowed rebellion.

Down in the mass of the grass, the axeman shot out, “What the rhez are you?”

“Toldja – reinforcements.” Ecko’s eyes flashed red. “Deal with the big fucker, I’m going after his harem.” With a grin, he ducked sideways out of the axeman’s vision.

And cursed himself, for the fucking hundredth time, for dropping Salva’s rifle.

* * *

Triqueta’s mare was terrified. She wasn’t bolting – not yet – but she was whinnying through her teeth, her ears were back and she was shaking her wet mane against her neck.

Behind her, Redlock was advancing, combat-crouch, both axes spinning – one forwards, one back. He was soaked, hair and garments plastered to him, two thirds the height of the monster, but grim faced, utterly fearless. His confidence was palpable. Triq’d lay odds on his victory – an axe in the belly was going to slow that beast right down.

But it would get another shot before he closed.

Red lightning flashed.

In that instant, one of the mares squealed, rocked sideways and shot down suddenly at something beside it.

The other raised its recurve and loosed the shaft at Triqueta.

It hit her horse in the shoulder, skidded off bone and buried itself in the saddle-side.

The mare screamed, instinctually turned to bite.

The beast was nocking another, hands almost as fast as Triq’s could be.

Shit!

Thunder threatened, it rolled low round her ears. Wind and rain tore at her clothing, her skin. One chance.

As the mare gathered her legs to flee, Triq knotted one hand in her mane, swung her head sharply round. The horse hesitated – that was all her rider needed. She sat back in the saddle, down and hard.

The creature stopped, fidgeting madly.

With burning fury, Triq turned her towards the abomination. The rain hit them both, full in face. Triq blinked and spat water, it ran from her skin like blood.