A Whisper of Wings

by Paul Kidd

  Something twinkled on a ridge a five swoops away. Keketál gazed off into the distance and reached for his weapons.

  “Harïsh?”

  “My love?”

  “Keketál loves you. He loves you, little golden one. He thanks you for all the gifts you give.”

  “I love you, husband. I will not fail you.”

  “Be safe, my love. Be safe.”

  Keketál deliberately discarded the face mask from his helmet, then hesitated briefly, bothered by half a memory. He put his back towards the enemy and turned to face his men.

  “The Guard will divide into manoeuvre squadrons. MOVE!”

  “Squadrons - form!”

  The troops instantly reformed their ranks while Harïsh’s slingers sped downhill to form their skirmish line.

  Beside them, the tribesmen washed back and forth like a restless mist. The Confederation army was so vast that the flanks dwindled off into the haze. Keketál gazed in wonder at the spectacle and slowly shook his head.

  A young girl came skidding through the tree tops at the army’s front. She made straight for Keketál’s side and skidded to a halt.

  “M-My Lord, the savages are advancing from the North! The Bitch-Queen is at their head. Squadron seven has opened fire and are falling back as per your orders.”

  “Reform the skirmishers behind our formation. Send their officer to me. I wish to thank her.”

  Far off in the distance, a group of armoured maidens had burst out of the trees. They flew back fifty spans and sank to the ground. A second line of women dashed from the treeline and leapfrogged across the first, while the foremost group fired slings towards the forest, covering the move. The two ranks worked in perfect coordination - teamwork born through trust. They were well led, but then Keketál expected nothing less fromn his scout commander. Namïlii had turned out very well indeed.

  With the demons approaching and the die already cast, Keketál drew his flute out of his belt and quietly began to play. He strolled unconcernedly along the lines and wove a spreading spell of calm.

  Zhukora raced through the trees with branches whipping at her sides. She felt the wind rippling through her naked fur; the sun across her back and her army spread beside her like majestic wings of power. It moved to every thrust and motion of her will while Serpent screamed out overhead and howled for plainsman souls.

  The strike force punched through the trees at reckless speed. The hillside loomed above; Zhukora screamed towards the open ground and let her spirits soar.

  “Now!”

  In one almighty surge, the two columns of warriors swerved aside. The battering rams of flesh and steel split left and right, deploying into two vast, unbroken waves. The black empress howled out her hunting scream, thrilling to the power that came raging through her soul.

  “Kill, my children! Kill them! Let the earth be soaked with blood!”

  The rear wave went to ground as the front ranks thundered on. Like a stormfront her warriors exploded from the trees. Slings fired, spears flashed, and suddenly the two armies met with a titanic crash of shock. Zhukora shrieked with lust as she led the Skull-Wings in the attack. Bodies whirled about her like a storm. The alpine teams each fought as a perfectly coordinated organism; ïsha flashed and hammered enemies from the air, and fleeing slingers screamed as spears stabbed down through their backs. High in the air, Zhukora stabbed out with her spear, laughing wildly as she pierced a plainsman’s lungs. She tumbled through the air like a shrieking meteor as demons raced beside her to fill the world with blood.

  Onwards, onwards! Zhukora’s first wave stalled as scattered groups of plainsmen tried to make a stand, and the second alpine battle line overleapt the first. Zhukora screamed and punched her fist toward a knot of slingers, blasting them into dancing skeletons. The alpine warriors screamed in triumph as their leader’s sorcery slew the foe. She swept flames across the enemy and laughed into the skies.

  Keketál blew on a clay whistle and spread his arms, and his guardsmen oriented themselves along the new axis of advance. Their leader watched the confederation levies die and shook with dreadful rage.

  “Enough! No more fools and committees! Hupshu, take command of the Zebedii warriors. Lord Keketál leads them through you.”

  “Yes Lord!”

  Keketál grabbed his friend by the shoulder and punched his fist towards the enemy lines. “Here and here! Hupshu hit both ends of the enemy; not middle bits, but endings. Drive them inward. You kill, Hupshu! You kill and kill until sky and earth turn red!”

  Hupshu waved a fist towards his men, and Keketál turned his back upon the Lake tribes as he assessed the battlefield.

  “Keketál wants the levies back here on the hill! Leave the ones near the savages. They all dead men already. Anything untouched must line up here by Keketál! Lord Karnekh, take twenty Guard officers and take control. If their chiefs try to stop you, kill them!”

  “Yes Lord!”

  “Go! Go!”

  Elite officers streamed out to take control; the air filled with roaring wings as the Zebedii took to the skies. Keketál gripped his wife and felt the fire building in his blood.

  “See her, Harïsh? See her there? The demon bitch has made a mistake no hunt commander should ever do. She leads from the front! She can’t see past the end of her own spear.”

  The tall hunter thoughtfully flexed his claws. The demon queen was rash; she loved the taste of blood too much. He had begun to find the measure of his enemy.

  “We have enough numbers to envelop her. We haven’t lost this battle yet.”

  “For Fire, Wind and Mother Rain! CHARGE!”

  A shout of rage boomed out through the air. Hupshu folded up his wings and dove with ten thousand Zebedii warriors howling at his tail. They exploded through the treetops and slammed down into the enemy.

  The air roared with the impact of ten thousand snarling men. In seconds the sky became a storm of tumbling shapes as Zebedii and savages tore each other from the air. Necks snapped as oita smashed through helms. Painted Zebedii howled and tumbled back as dao rammed through their guts.

  Hupshu rolled upside down and ploughed his oita through an enemy mask, then turned hard on the tail of a weaving savage, peeling off aside as a fresh target veered above. He cracked upwards with his oita and broke the creature’s spine.

  The brewer whirled as a spear flashed towards his throat. Hupshu stabbed out his power to swerve the shot aside, and still the spear came on. A tiny Ka inside the spearhead squealed in hate.

  Magic weapon!

  Hupshu tried to dive; the spear curved its flight to follow him and slammed into his back, tumbling him downwards in a sheet of blood. The body slammed into a thorn bush and disappreared from view.

  Above the brambles, the killing swarms fought ever on.

  “Leader! Both wings are being driven back! The advance has stalled.”

  Zhukora barely even heard. She ripped back the head of an enemy and jerked her dao across his throat. Blood squirted up between her legs to splash against her groin, and the naked woman laughed as she felt its unholy heat.

  “Leader! Leader please, what orders? We need your orders!”

  Still reeling with sheer lust for the fight, Zhukora looked around to where a Flock Captain knelt before her in the blood. The neckguard of his helmet had been torn completely free. She lifted up her gaze and stared across the battlefield, then gathered up the Skull-Wings with one motion of her hands.

  “Leave the front formations to hold position. Gather up the Skull-Wings in arrowhead formation. We attack upon the right.”

  “But-but beloved one, the left wing is crumbling also! Shouldn’t we split our forces and save both wings at once?”

  “The left flank will hold. I will not divide our reserve.”

  The Skull-Wings flung themselves up into their ordered formations. The Flock Captain looked towards the forest and licked his lips in agitation.

  “Leader, we are massively outnumbered! Soon even these path
etic creatures will see that we’re but half their strength. Where is the other portion of our army? The Warchief has still not come!”

  Zhukora slowly drew her spear out from a victim lying on the ground.

  “Daimïru will be here. She will come because she loves me. Daimïru will never fail me.”

  These new enemy were different from the others; small, wild barbarians with fur dyed into fantastic streaks. The painted warriors fought like animals, butchering wounded on the ground and stragglers in the skies. They drove through the air like eagles, and Zhukora longed to test herself against their blades.

  Zhukora’s guardsmen now pointed like a spear straight at the Zebedii. Slingstones began to cut the air and Zhukora raised her hands, blanketing her troops beneath a shield of light. Slingstones bounced and slewed helplessly across the wall.

  At the centre of the field, the enemy conscripts had been driven back into ranks, marshalling for a new attack. Zhukora saw it all and gave a snarl.

  “We deal with them later! First we slay these painted barbarians!” Zhukora rose into the air on glorious shining wings.

  “We shall wash the plains with blood! We shall fill the ïsha with their screaming souls! Kill! Kill, my loves. Forward for The Dream!”

  The alpine warriors screamed in bloodlust as they charged into the Zebedii. Zhukora’s laugh rang out across the battlefield as she tore her prey apart with light.

  The enemy had committed her reserves, and Keketál still had almost a third of his force re-ordered on the hill. It was time to take revenge.

  “All units will advance! The guard will attack in triple fork formation!”

  “Guards!”

  “Squadron!”

  A great stir shook through the army; suddenly victory seemed in their grasp. Keketál watched his men rise and leaned down to bellow in Harïsh’s ear.

  “Swing out to the flanks. Fire to support our charge”

  Harïsh crushed him with a kiss and let him go. Keketál heard her rapping orders to her troops. She darted downhill with a tail of wild-eyed girls.

  Keketál climbed up to the forefront of his troops. Lord Looshii joined him, grinning in delight.

  “We have ‘em! This time we really have ‘em!”

  “Ha! We kill Demon-Bitch for goodly dead! Lightning or no lightning, we have her now. Bitch-Queen finished!”

  Looshii spread his arms towards the enemy and laughed.

  “And my scouts had fed me such tales of woe! This is only half the numbers I was told they had!”

  Keketál froze; antennae stood stiff and straight as he stared down at the battle far below.

  Half!

  “Guard! About face! About face, quickly!”

  Soldiers collided and tangled in mid-air as Keketál hurtled his troops towards the army’s rear. Suddenly the rear woods were alive with racing shapes. A vast horde of rainbow figures boiled out into the light with a wild blonde goddess howling at their head. Fangs gleamed as the alpine warriors screamed for plainsman souls.

  The Confederation conscripts saw the savages at their backs, hurtled aside their weapons and clawed into the air. In one split second the entire battle had been lost. The savages had fooled them all…

  Still the Conferderation Guards’ charge drove on. Keketál’s mind weighed problems even as he saw his attack was doomed. He swerved and snatched Lord Looshii by the tail.

  “My lord, get back! Take all our survivors and fly south. The Guard will buy you time!”

  “Lord Keketál!”

  “Go! Take my wife and flee!”

  Keketál plunged forward with his men. Lord Looshii watched them fly onwards, unable to grasp why Keketál still pressed on with the attack.

  Somewhere behind him, lightning flashed. Lord Looshii flung himself towards his new command and tried to keep the panic from his eyes.

  Daimïru felt her army surge about her like a tidal wave of death. Only one pathetic flock of plainsmen stood between her and the prey. Daimïru shook out her golden hair and stormed towards the foe.

  The Confederation Guard had made a sacrificial charge, stabbing deep into the heart of the attacking swarm. Daimïru’s advance ground to a halt as her warriors converged towards the fight inside their lines.

  For once the plainsmen fought with speed and skill. Daimïru raced inverted up across the sky then ripped her spear across the belly of a barbarian, the steel edge sliding from its armoured hide. The girl snarled and rolled, lunging out to hurtle her spear into a warrior’s back. Her victim shrieked, clawing at the weapon as he tumbled to the ground. Daimïru laughed and whirled around to see the measure of her victory.

  The girl stared in shock. Her warriors were being torn to shreds! Squat figures in blue felt armour slashed about themselves with wooden staves, slicing through Daimïru’s troops like hawks into a flock of doves.

  There - right at their head! A proud warrior with fine green wings was directing the barbarians into battle. Here lay the secret to the barbarian’s success; Daimïru swerved and climbed up beneath the belly of her foe.

  Daimïru flashed towards the nobleman and slashed out with a single vicious blow. Her spear stabbed empty air; suddenly the man had gone! Daimïru rolled and threw herself into a turn, knowing that he had somehow swerved behind her. Wing muscles shrieked with pain as she pushed herself harder than she had ever tried before.

  The girl tumbled as something punched the ïsha from her wings. She snatched out with her claws and somehow caught her enemy’s hide. Daimïru tangled her opponent and brought both of them smashing to the grass.

  Impact drove the breath out of her lungs. Daimïru’s vision blurred with spots as a broken rib leaked blood beneath her hide. She crawled away and tried to blink the tears back from her eyes.

  ïsha sense screamed in warning, and Daimïru rolled aside as something clove the earth beside her skull. She rammed her elbow back and caught her assailant in the face. With a shriek of rage she staggered to her feet, one wing trailing broken at her side. She tore her twin dao out from their sheathes and finally felt her vision clear.

  There he was, green-wing! The man held his staff and swapped it evilly from hand to hand. Daimïru crouched and hissed like an attacking snake, then lifted up her eyes to drink in the plainsman’s death.

  She stared into a dead man’s face and felt her hands fall to her side…

  Daimïru croaked as Kotaru rammed his staff into her guts. She looked up at him in disbelief, tears of pain dripping from her eyes.

  “No! No - I killed you! I killed you!”

  The girl spilled down to the ground and collapsed. Keketál looked down at her in puzzlement; he had understood every word, and none of it made sense.

  The savages had seen their chieftain fall. Keketál turned and fled as the enemy snatched the fallen girl and dragged her back towards the trees. Their attack stalled, wavered, and then surged back towards the woods in one almighty storm.

  A temporary reprieve; Keketál found his voice and lunged up into his men. Officers swirled around him racing off at his command.

  “Dadash, Preshtu! Take first and second wing-groups and skirmish with the enemy! Slow them down while we try to save the levies. Meet us downstream at Wombat Point! All others, take the wounded and fall back! Help the army to withdraw!”

  The demon queen had overrun the field. Keketál felt the taste of defeat like bile on his tongue; there was nothing else to do except save as many people as he could.

  Next time. Next time would be different. Keketál flew towards the south with a plague of demons howling at his tail.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  ”My love! My love, it’s alright. Hush now. You’re in my arms. Everything’s better now.”

  Daimïru drifted warm and safe within a dreamy haze. When she became thirsty, someone raised nectar to her lips. When she grew lonely, her beloved stroked her hair. Daimïru growled and weakly tried to shove aside the luxury.

  “You… didn’t pursue.”

  “N
o my love. You needed me, and so I am here.”

  “You must go after them.”

  “In good time, my love.” Soft lips brushed against Daimïru’s hair. “We have a miracle to perform here first.”

  Something warm began to fill her, and suddenly her pain had gone. Daimïru opened up her eyes to see Zhukora gazing down into her face.

  “How could I leave when my spear-arm needs me? My pure half, untainted by doubt and imperfection. You are The Dream’s most pure and worthy champion.”

  Daimïru’s long blonde hair stirred in the ïsha breeze as the girl stared up into the blue eyes of her god.

  “I saw something impossible, Zhukora. A figure from the past! A dead man fights against us!”

  “Hush, your wounds still trouble you.”

  “No! It’s him, your sister’s lover! I killed him months ago with my own two hands, and yet he struck me down today!”

  “Then this is sorcery indeed.”

  Zhukora looked up towards her deadly ïsha fields.

  ~Serpent! What have you to say about all this? Did it happen? Can it be true?~

  *Yes… There is one creature with such power.* Serpent coiled slowly out into the light. *The Ka called Starshine. She is an enemy of all great dreams. No one can raise the dead, but she would have the ability to blind thy servant with an illusion.*

  Zhukora thoughtfully switched her tail.