by T J Marquis
Come, little bloodhoof, know that you are the wind, Scythia thought.
For a few moments, they were connected, mount and rider, and she felt Nova's desire to meet her expectations. She also felt Nova's strange, animal doubt. It was almost a submission to the raptorion ahead, simply because the reptilian beast had already established dominance. What a peculiar sensation this was.
But the bloodhoof's speed was part of its nature, and soon Nova came up neck and neck with the raptorion. Axebourne beamed at his wife. Scythia grinned back. Neither noticed in the end who technically won as they surged into town.
An old man looked up from his stoop in the slowest, calmest glance of surprise Scythia had ever seen. His mouth moved, but she couldn't hear the words over the bloodhoof's slowing gait.
They cantered into the center of town and found its quaint tavern. They tethered the animals outside.
The barkeep was leaning back on a stool, both booted feet up on the bar. He was reading some weathered old book that had lost both front and back covers, and he didn't bother to glance up until it was time to turn the page. He set the book down and greeted his customers levelly.
"Ain't got much," he said. "No shipments since Grondell got sacked."
So some news had made it here. The razing of Grondell was still the biggest.
"Mostly we came in for news," said Scythia, taking a stool at the bar. Axebourne scanned the place cursorily and joined her. "We knew about Grondell. Have you heard of anything else?"
The barkeep slipped off his stool and onto his feet. He rummaged under the bar for something, produced a dusty old bottle that was still sealed.
"You drinkin'?" he asked, fetching two short glasses.
Scythia knew he wouldn't speak freely unless they bought some of his drink. Even with the end of Overland on their very doorsteps, a man had to conduct his business.
Axebourne fished two gold thumpers out of his purse and let them fall onto the bar. They thumped. It was an extravagant amount. The barkeep nodded appreciatively. He opened the old bottle and set it down between the glasses.
"Why don't you share it with us," Axebourne said. "We have to ride back - I won't want more than one or two."
The barkeep shrugged and got himself a glass. He poured for everyone and resumed his seat.
"Two cities gone," he said. "One each day after Grondell. Messenger said it went just the same as the Temple city. You heard that part?"
Scythia nodded, heart sinking. Two more cities.
"Weird, singing towers," the barkeep said. "Make you barf up your guts. Giants smashing everything in sight. Nothing left behind."
"No fortress this time?" Scythia asked. The barkeep shook his head.
"Don't think so. Not that I was told anyway. I mean, there's only one Testadel. Maybe he couldn't push up a lesser fortress?"
Or maybe he was saving them for something bigger. Grondell was important, but it wasn't the biggest city in Overland.
"Which two cities?" Scythia asked. She took a swig of her drink for the first time. It was clear and light, but ignited a fire in her throat and belly. Something more than mead. She watched as Axebourne drank. His eyes lit up, and she chuckled inwardly. He loved the heat of it.
"Chasmreach and Shrill," the barkeep answered. Scythia's heart sank further. Chasmreach had been her home. Axebourne set his drink down hard and looked up at the barkeep.
The man flinched, as if surprised Axebourne would care.
"You're sure?" Axebourne asked. "Chasmreach?" The barkeep nodded.
Axebourne looked at his wife. "I'm sorry, darling."
He put a hand on her back but didn't watch her face for long. He knew better than to do any more than that. When she needed more, she would ask.
Scythia took the news as stoically as she could, but it was a punch to the gut. Something that had always been was now no more. Something far more personal than Grondell, or the Temple. A place where she had memories, where she had learned love, and hate, and the drive to seek the wider world. It wasn't as if any of her family were still around to have died in the attack. Still, it had been home. If the barkeep said anything more, Scythia didn't hear it.
She was no longer Scythia of Chasmreach.
They rode back toward Chasmverge slowly and in silence. Axebourne knew she would talk when she was ready. It was many miles before she felt so, and when at last she did, everything came out in an incoherent flood. She suffered the deluge of old memories, long-missed images of her parents, the grands, uncles and aunts and cousins. She shared some of these with Axebourne as she wept, though he had long ago heard most of her stories, and she his. But he listened as if it were the first time.
She asked him if they could stop for the night. It wasn't late - it wasn't yet even dinner time - but she didn't feel like being cooped up in the wizard's tower yet. She needed more fresh air, more open space, and to the Chasm with it if they were attacked out here in the wild. Axebourne agreed readily. He'd always liked sleeping out under the moon anyway.
They laid out pallets and made a fire. Axebourne ate, Scythia did not, and they talked and held each other until the silver moon slid high overhead. At last they lay back together under the deep, black sky, and loved each other fiercely, dispelling the darkness for a time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
A Strange Wind
When all was said and done, Pierce and the garrison men had provided Sev with more silicon than he'd needed to grow the magnificent crystals he'd use to distill that glorious blue light. They were long and fat, most as big as a child, some as big as a man. Sev had used his strange craft to enchant each seed crystal with an almost biological need to grow quickly, and large, and so the whole process hadn't taken as long as Ess and Eff had expected. Naturally, they had wanted to know all about the enchantment and process, and now they did.
The crystals had been taken outside, and every day at dawn Sev sat with them, using a peculiar power to draw the sunlight into his big hands as it passed through them. Despite the two wizards' intense curiosity, Seve insisted he couldn't teach them how to perform the last step, for it was something only his race could do, as far as he knew.
The blue light congealed in his hand, and he crushed it in his palm like a physical thing. After holding it in a tight grip for long minutes, he would release it, and bright blue dust would fall out instead of light. This was diligently collected and stored in large urns that dwarfed the tiny vial Sev had previously gifted to Pierce.
Pierce kept urging the forgemaster to pace himself, but Sev worked almost feverishly, with single-minded purpose. He'd eat something for breakfast and get to work, not stopping for a midday meal, working until the very last rays of the sun had disappeared. He said the work was his sustenance. He'd even commented that he would work through the night, if the light of the moon were of sufficient strength for his needs.
Eff dropped by from time to time, inspecting the growing stockpile, and after three days he deemed it enough, seeming vaguely proud of the fact. Pierce supposed a lesser wizard would need more to get the job done. The First said he would commence the enchantment the next morning.
Another couple of miners had been lost to the banshees, but their spotters had not been taken with them. Though the losses sat heavily on people's hearts, it wasn't really too severe compared to the typical fatality rate of a cliff-dangler. The team had done a good job here, and all the men made sure to thank their trumpeters and spotters.
Though news had come in that yet more cities had been conquered, that now there were bands of gen and werewolves roving the roads between the nations of Overland, spirits at Chasmverge were high. It could all be over within a matter of hours. The sky would be a beautiful blue, bathing the land in more light than it had ever seen, and the invaders from below would have to shade their black eyes and slink back into the holes from whence they had come. Men were already congratulating Pierce on the success of his idea, and he accepted the praise in sheepish silence.
He could
n't sleep that night. He paced and roved the grounds all around Chasmverge, thinking about everything that could come next. Sometimes in his mind, the First would fail, the sky would remain black, and Kash would conquer the world. In many fantasies, Eff would succeed, and Ess would embrace Pierce in girlish joy, rewarding him with a kiss for his ingenious plan. He felt stupid for his imaginings, but couldn't help himself. They played behind his eyes throughout the night like waking dreams.
With little else left to explore, Pierce eventually made his way up to the top of the tower, idly inspecting the green stone of its many spires with one hand as he gazed out into the dark. The stockpile of blue dust had been brought up here, waiting for Eff to begin the enchantment.
Sunrise should be coming soon. A breeze had kicked up, and he noticed it wasn't coming from the Chasm below, as it usually would. It felt like something was blowing on him gently from the north, like a truly massive giant's breath was escaping as it slept. Pierce didn't like the thought of a giant larger than the mega-Monstrosities he'd fought at Grondell.
There wasn't typically strong wind of any kind further inland - it was something one only experienced at the edges of Overland. He supposed this horizontal breeze could be something normal at Chasm's edge he simply hadn't experienced yet, but it seemed wrong somehow.
Suddenly he realized why.
The obelisks at Grondell. They had vibrated, emanating their sickening sounds, shaking his insides until Scythia had covered everyone with her enchantment of silence. Could they be causing a wind like this? It had already gotten stronger, but he could hear no evil tones yet. He wanted to tell himself he was overthinking things, that he was just paranoid at the thought of his idea's failure. Yet his intuition had never steered him wrong.
"Pierce!" came a call from down below, on the winding stair that led up to the tower's pinnacle. It was Scythia's voice. "Are you up here? A guard said he saw you heading upward."
"I'm here,' he called back. Soon Scythia appeared on the stair, the First right behind her. He looked groggy, as if he'd just been wakened. He was even still in his night robe.
"Something's coming," Scythia said. The gems on her circlet were pulsing brightly. "Either to simply attack or to stop the enchantment, though I don't know how Kash would know about it."
She guided Eff firmly to the stockpile of blue dust, and he began to fumble about his preparations.
"Ess, Agrathor, and Axebourne will guard the First," Scythia said. "You and I will be at the ready below. If the obelisks begin to crop up, we must topple them. If the mega-Monstrosities begin to arise, we must slay them. The garrison men are precious few, but they will fight their best beside us."
Pierce nodded. "I'll arm myself," he said, making for the stairs.
"Good," Scythia said. "I'll wait with Eff till the others arrive, and join you on the ground."
Pierce passed Sev on the way down, apparently awoken also by Scythia's stirring of the others.
"What can I do to help, Pierce?" Sev asked. "I am not much of a warrior."
"But you're strong," said Pierce. "You can fight if you have to. Get armed, at least for your own safety. Guard the tower doors."
Sev nodded once.
"We just have to hold out until the First is done," said Pierce, and bounded down the stairs to the floor his room was on.
Armored, sword at his side, Pierce made his way to the ground floor and outside. The breeze was now a wind, and Pierce could hear the faint humming that he'd dreaded, but he could not see the obelisks creating it. He kept expecting to see the hands of the mega-Monstrosities digging up out of the ground, but they, too, seemed to be delayed.
Then he heard the whooping and howling of a werewolf pack, likely several dozen of them. The sound of their approach grew gradually. Scythia joined him, followed by the remainder of the garrison men, and they braced themselves, weapons drawn, awaiting the arrival of the enemy.
"The First has begun the enchantment," Scythia said lowly. "He said it should not take long."
Pierce glanced up. The tower's zenith was glowing dully with blue light.
Soon the werewolves were in sight, the first timid rays of the sun revealing their silhouettes in the distance. Each one of their red eyes seemed fixed on the two warriors who waited. Lightning struck them suddenly, and those who were hit yelped in surprise as they were rent by the blast. The loose formation scattered, galloping toward the tower's meager defenders all the more wildly.
Seven orange balls of liquid fire shot down from above, cutting through werewolves like wet paper. Hairy limbs fell to the ground, and the deadly orbs left trails of blood and gore in their wake. The pack of werewolves was slain before they even reached the defenders. In their absence, the obelisks began to appear.
Pierce saw the sharp points of the monoliths pushing up out of the bare ground in a wide arc clearly meant to hem the defenders in, to trap them against the edge of the Chasm. Immediately their sick songs rang out into the air. Scythia touched her amulet, and silence fell around her. She and Pierce dashed for the nearest budding obelisks. Pierce waited for it to rise and stop, then began hacking at its base with his sword. The thing toppled and fell in incongruous silence. Scythia was attacking another obelisk with her flail. Her fierce strength was channeled through the chain and spiked ball, every impact sending cracks and shudders up the brittle structure. Eventually it fell, splintered into a thousand pieces. They moved on to the next pair.
Pierce dared a glance back at the top of Chasmverge. The dull blue light had become intermittent bright flashes that shot up into the sky, like the First was working to ignite some heavenly fire.
Another pack of werewolves was on the way, a battalion of gen in their wake. Above the gen glided black shadows that Pierce had not seen before. No, they weren't gliding, they were bounding forward in great, long leaps. What were those things?
The wind continued to mount as if it was meant to blow the tower over into the Chasm. As if this weren't strange enough, the ground itself had begun to shake. Pierce expected to see the mega-Monstrosities emerge at any moment.
Agrathor jumped down to the ground and cast his lightning on the obelisks, blowing them apart with surprising ease. Yet for every one that fell, another was rising to replace it. Their wicked song wasn't audible within the aura of Scythia's silence, but Pierce still flinched at the memory of it.
Ess's liquid orbs were extremely efficient at killing the loping werewolves, but inevitably a few got through to Pierce, and he engaged them grimly.
They fought with the cunning of beasts and men combined, and they engaged him in groups of five or six, surrounding him with nips at his extremities and feigned attacks. He tried to keep track of as many of them as he could, but inevitably one would get in behind him and try to rend him with its claws while he was fending off one of its packmates.
Pierce slew one with a swift cut upward through its torso. Blood and liquid bone spilled onto the ground. He dodged back as another werewolf dashed in to clamp its jaws on his sword arm. It caught him, but its teeth broke against Pierce's enchanted armor and it opened its maw in a howl, flinching with the intense pain. Pierce beheaded it.
He glanced sideways at Scythia, who was also beset. The werewolves were swift, but her bracelet made her faster. The eyes of the monsters were wide in bewilderment as she dashed to and fro among them, smashing their skulls in with precise strikes of her sister's flail. Despite her skill, a horde of gen was almost upon them, and obelisks were continuing to crop up behind the advancing enemy lines.
The shadows taking long leaps among the gen had split off and made for the tower, ignoring its defenders. They looked to have black skin like Ess's, and they were clad in loose black clothing that fluttered as they cut through the air. They were too far away to stop as they began to climb the sheer face of the tower, somehow finding handholds in the smooth green stone. Pierce would have to leave them to the others atop the tower.
He slew the last werewolf that had accosted him, cle
aving its torso from its body with one fell swoop. The halves of the beast toppled to the ground. A line of gen approached in tight formation, armed with pikes. This called for something flashy - perhaps he could scare them into chaos.
Pierce dashed for the formation's flank, as if he meant to go around them. They held their ground and pivoted to keep their pikes leveled at him. He knew the points of their weapons couldn't pierce his armor, even at the weak spots, but they could bludgeon him, or hem him in and pin him down. They could try for a lucky stab into his eyeslit. He was not invincible.
Before he crossed beyond the line of gen, he dashed back inward with his sword drawn to face them. He moved dangerously close, pointed his blast gauntlet back behind him, and fired it. He covered a dozen yards in an instant, vision going grey, straining his arm to keep the blade held out and steady. It cleaved through the gen like butter, slicing through pikes, armor, flesh and bone. Half the line of soldiers fell, cut apart, or at least with mortal wounds to the gut.
The second rank of gen stepped up to fill in the gap, but they looked unsure. Pierce dashed away as pikes were thrust in his direction.
A blinding flash of blue lit up the ground and all the combatants, and Pierce looked up at its source before he could control the instinct. Two more flashes followed, leaving an azure afterimage in his eyes. Then the whole sky lit up blue. The Underlanders all stopped in their tracks and screamed. Many cowered, covering their eyes with their hands.
The blue light stood in stark contrast to the rising red sun, making the old tentacled thing look all the redder. For a moment he thought the sun's tendrils actually recoiled at the sudden brightness, and the titanic red beast seemed much, much closer than he'd ever thought it was.
The sky took on an aspect Pierce had never seen before. It had a texture. There were swirls and lines drawn across it like carvings on a wall, and the area around the sun was painted a color Pierce had never seen before either, a hue between blue and red. He almost thought it was an illusion.
