Marah told Tyrus, “She’s in her villa with her sons.”
“The dead are always watching?”
“Many want her to die.”
“Aren’t we taking her alive?”
“We will,” Marah said, “but she is surrounded by vengeful ghosts.”
He had never thought of ghosts haunting people before. The thought made him nervous. When Marah said the dead haunted Shinar, he had not questioned her. With one look at the place, imagining an army of ghosts drifting through the streets was easy. But if spirits followed Breonna, Tyrus thought he must have a ponderous host haunting him.
He wanted to ask but knew the answer.
The city appeared vacant until they reached the street leading to Breonna’s villa. Wooden barricades of sharpened posts stood in front of thanes and archers. Beyond them, the villa itself had hundreds of people on its walls. Marah did not slow her approach, and everyone following her fidgeted. Tyrus could hear the rustling and mumbles of confusion as Marah continued walking toward the defenses.
Arrows darkened the sky, and the air around Marah chilled. She waved a hand, and the arrows became ashes dusting the street. She destroyed a second volley as she kept walking. Her free hand began to glow orange and crackle as a fiery orb burst to life. She walked and threw the thing at a barricade. Its smoky trail filled the street until it obliterated the palisade.
Thanes ran from the spell. Tyrus noted a few had fallen, burned, and he assumed Marah had decided to create more ghosts. She had not shared her plans with him though, so he kept his head down and followed her.
She continued on her course, and another orb grew in her hand. When she threw that, it hit a shield from one of Breonna’s sorcerers. Marah stopped in the street, handed Tyrus her spear, and raised both hands above her head to summon a much larger orb, which she sent barreling through the shield. The barricade disappeared in a mighty blast that consumed more thanes.
She took the spear back and continued her walk.
Thanes charged, but Marah used a thunderclap to knock them down, and she continued toward Breonna’s villa. Thanes and archers fled from her as she summoned another orb and crashed the villa’s gates. They shattered like the gates of a mundane city, but none of the villas were as old as the city walls or King’s Rest. Marah picked her way through the rubble to stand in the courtyard, and Tyrus followed. Olroth directed thanes to cover the walls and prepare to enter the villa’s main hall.
Marah called out, “Breonna of the Kol’Voris Clan, show yourself!”
Silence answered.
“If I knock down the villa, you will get hurt.”
Breonna appeared in a window on the second floor. She opened the wooden flaps and gazed down on them. Tyrus could not see anyone in the other windows, but he was a spectator. Marah didn’t need him to deal with Breonna.
Breonna glared at Tyrus. “Husband, I had hoped you were dead.”
“Came close, once or twice, but you know me.”
“And what shall we call you now? Oathbreaker?”
“I am Tyrus of Kelnor.”
Marah raised her voice. “You will surrender to me as my hostage. Your clans will kneel and swear their loyalty. Any who refuse will die.”
Breonna sniffed. “I’m willing to discuss titles.”
“We are not bargaining. You will be thankful for your life.”
“You still need me to feed your clans.”
Marah waited a moment before she said, “The Islanders will negotiate with me, or I’ll take the coast away from them.”
“They won’t speak with you.” Breonna spat the words. “They serve me.”
“They will speak to Lahar Baladan. He is the rightful king.”
“And what does that make you?”
“I am above royalty.”
The two of them glared at each other, and Tyrus found it strange to see a woman in her fifties glaring such hatred at a child. Marah returned the sentiment though, with a terrible scowl. Breonna cast her gaze across the city, and Tyrus felt her pain. She had nothing to negotiate with. She had lost. The last choice she would make was to accept defeat or die.
Marah said, “Come down here. Now.”
Breonna left the window, and moments later the villa’s door opened. Breonna and her sons, along with two of the Sea Kings, entered the courtyard. Everyone waited for Marah’s next orders, but she turned to the east.
Tyrus asked, “What is it?”
The wind picked up a little, a storm blowing in from the coast. But Marah reacted to it as if it were much worse. She held her spear in both hands, which made it look as though she wanted to attack the villa’s eastern wall.
Tyrus asked again, “Marah, what is going on?”
“We’re under attack.”
The sky cracked several times, and a rolling thunderstorm blew in from the sea. The lightning was unnatural, barreling over the landscape, with dozens of strikes that hit Shinar’s walls and rolled into the city. People gasped and screamed as the strikes hit the buildings around them.
Marah raised a hand, and the lightning struck an invisible dome above their heads. The wind picked up and tore at their clothes. Then a dust storm hit.
Olroth found Tyrus. “What is this?”
“Are you ready for a nasty fight?”
“What am I fighting?”
Tyrus couldn’t say if it was seraphim or shedim. He never saw any shapes in the clouds, but only the sarbor had such powers. The storm clouds churned red as though a hurricane made of fire had blown in from the Grigorn Sea. Tyrus saw the shapes then, outlines of batlike wings circling Shinar. The shedim assaulted Shinar.
III
Marah held back the storm. She poured everything she had into the task, and thousands of runes danced in her mind. The matrix she built awed the dead sorcerers surrounding her. They had never seen anything like it and asked many questions Marah could not answer. She worked on instinct alone, combining all the runes she had ever learned for erecting shields and holding things away from her. The runes for shields morphed with the runes for the stone song, and she erected a dome over part of the city.
The shedim sorcery smashed into the shield, but it held. Marah made hundreds of adjustments as she channeled the spell, but she quickly realized it would never be big enough to protect the entire city. She wasn’t strong enough to save everyone.
She groped at her limits, and frustration turned to anger. She knew how to save Shinar, but she wasn’t strong enough to make the runes work.
Silas asked, “How did you change the stone song?”
“They are just runes.”
Marah tried to change the shield, toying with the runes in a half dozen different ways, but each time, she crashed into her own limitations. The dome protected less than half of the city.
Marah gasped and told Silas, “Help me.”
Silas said, “But there is no stone.”
“The air is the stone.”
“That’s not possible.”
Marah snarled and flung herself back into the runes. The red sorcerers and the priest were doing nothing to stop the shedim’s sorcery. Lightning and flames ravaged entire sections of Shinar, and the number of dead swelled. Many of the Norsil and Islanders were caught out in the open. They died running for shelter. A chorus of new ghosts screamed about fire.
They had burned alive. Entire families were lost, and all the children’s tortured screams broke Marah’s heart. She almost lost control of her shield. Tears filled her eyes as she struggled against limits she didn’t understand.
Shedim warriors fought her shield, became frustrated, and landed on the streets. They came for her with black swords. Marah could not fight them and keep the shield above their heads. She struggled to choose—save herself or let more people burn.
Tyrus and the Ghost Clan charged the demons. Marah blinked away tears and continued fighting with her rune
s.
A strange voice called to her. I can show you how to save the city.
Who are you?
Mulciber. I’m a friend of your father’s.
Marah risked losing control to erect wards. The voice vanished but returned a few moments later.
You are strong, Mulciber whispered, but I can teach you better wards.
Leave me alone.
Ithuriel is on his way. You’re about to see God’s Avenger at his best. He will roll over Shinar like a tidal wave. Your friends will burn if you don’t accept my help.
He won’t kill my friends.
When angels and demons fight, mortals die, cities burn, and kingdoms fall.
He won’t do that to me.
If you only knew how much he hates Gorba Tull, you would understand. This fight has been brewing for thousands of years.
Powerful sorcery ripped into the shedim. Marah sensed the counterattack rolling over Shinar, and she gasped at the onslaught. Her shield began to waver, and she wrestled to keep it in place. Mulciber was right. The seraphim killed shedim, but people were caught by the spells, too.
Shinar burned.
Mulciber whispered, I can save your friends.
Leave me alone.
Your technique is flawed, Marah. A minor adjustment to your runes, and you can protect the entire city. It’s so simple once you know how.
I won’t listen to the Father of Lies.
Ithuriel gave me that name, as if he were the Father of Truth. I can save your people, but you must do something for me. You must help Gorba fight Ithuriel.
I won’t fight angels.
The shedim are angels, Marah. Our crime was refusing to kneel before Ithuriel.
I don’t believe you.
You’re about to see why we rebelled. The Lord of Light is a ruthless bastard.
Seraphim warriors in white armor with white wings crashed into the city. Many of them swooped down to tackle the shedim legionnaires. They demolished buildings as they fought and unleashed more spells that pulverized stone. Above her head, she glimpsed Ithuriel and Gorba Tull collide in midair. They tore at each other, falling in a death spiral.
They plummeted toward the city.
Marah saw where they would hit. She knew what would happen next, and she was powerless to stop the carnage. The two of them slammed into King’s Rest and sent a terrible blast rolling through the city. Fires and dust howled down the city streets as the keep was destroyed.
The families inside, all of the wounded—they were beyond Marah’s reach. She listened to them as they became dead things. They wailed their misery, and Marah sobbed. She had left them behind to protect them. Her shield faltered, but she swallowed her grief and renewed her efforts. She worked the runes to protect the few people she might save. The rest of Shinar would have to fend for itself.
IV
Breonna and her clans scattered. At first, they fled the demons, but they found few places to run. A street would look safe, but then flames would burst and cover half of it in fire. She saw many people ducking into buildings to escape the carnage, but the angels and demons broke buildings as they brawled. She found a group of her thanes hugging a wall. They flinched and watched the sky. Breonna wanted to grab them and run toward the sea, but she didn’t see a way out of the city.
Orfeo followed her, and she turned to him. His eyes were white on white, and he tried to fend off the death raining down on them.
“I can’t stop them. They’re too strong.”
The city was a trap, and her people ran and hid in stone buildings. She hurried to the group hiding from the demons and grabbed a bow. She told them to follow her.
Orfeo said, “You’re going the wrong way.”
“I won’t let her outlive me.”
“But she’s the only thing keeping us alive.”
“Come on! We won’t get another chance at this.”
They gathered a few more thanes as they headed back to her villa. The fires there weren’t as bad as those in the rest of the city, but demons landed and stalked the streets. The angels charged them. Breonna had to jog around districts of the city as the giant creatures tore into one another.
“Circle the villa.” She pointed at the center of Marah’s defense. “Kill the freaks.”
Orfeo said, “We need her.”
“I won’t be her hostage.”
“We’re all going to die.”
“Perhaps, but she goes first.”
Four of her thanes charged a shedim warrior. She sidestepped around it to hurry back to the villa, where she spotted Tyrus fighting one of the things by himself. She sighted her arrow, but a building toppled in front of her, and she lost him. She sprinted around the rubble but could not find Tyrus again. Instead of chasing him, she headed for the villa. Marah was inside the ring wall with sorcerers and knights and thanes. Breonna skidded to a stop and looked at the gate. She would be dead the moment she showed her face. Seeking higher ground, she spotted a building that overlooked the villa, and she raced to find a good vantage point.
Lahar had wanted to chase Breonna and the Islanders, but he knew his knights would be slaughtered in the city streets. He ordered them to form a shield wall and to hold the villa. They waited for thanes to charge them, but the real threat was in the sky. He stood, amazed, as old songs came to life before his very eyes. The white wings fought the black with fire and brimstone.
As the fight wore on, he waited to die. He was too beaten up to be of much use against normal opponents, but the creatures he saw were all but untouchable. Tyrus and a few of the thanes could fight some of them. The rest, especially the angels, made him feel like a mouse trapped in a lion’s den.
Somehow, Marah protected them from the firestorm. By the strain on her face, he knew she would not last much longer. Entire districts were burning, and the city filled with screams as people fled for cover.
He knew the old saying, When angels and demons fight, mortals die.
But he had never understood what it meant to be on the ground when they fought. In the old stories of the great wars, the heroes fought beside the angels and lived to fight again. He didn’t see how anyone could fight beside the seraphim—they altered between spears and shields and sorcery with blinding speed. A duel with a demon became an explosion of fire and lightning with no warning at all. Lahar saw no way to win such a battle, and he wanted to run away from everything.
Tyrus stood with his sword, waiting for the bloodshed. He watched sorcerers try to fend off the shedim’s attacks. At best, they blunted a few. The city was being ravaged. Maybe half the buildings he saw were burning, but then the smoke and dust blocked his view. As his vision narrowed, he felt the walls closing in. He hefted his sword and checked on Marah. She was protecting them from the worst of it, but that wouldn’t last. The shedim would kill her with steel if they could not get past her sorcery.
When the legionnaires landed in the streets around the villa, Tyrus smiled. He understood that kind of fighting. The demons charged the villa, and Tyrus left the gate to meet them.
He picked an old demon with hundreds of faces on its body, and when their blades crossed, he found the clash of steel exhilarating. He had been built to fight such creatures, and he enjoyed a true test of his skills. Plus, he was fighting to defend his ward. Most of his life, he had fought the wrong people for the wrong reasons. Defying the shedim was as close to honorable as he had come in a long time.
The creature fought as he did. The demons enjoyed pain, and they both traded minor gashes and bruises to attempt more deadly attacks. Tyrus let the creature slash his leg so he could thrust his blade into its stomach. His thigh burned, but he could still walk, and he twisted his great sword out of the demon’s trunk with a violent motion that disemboweled the thing. However, such a wound wouldn’t stop the demon, and he counterswung to claim its head.
He was racing to find another demon when he
spotted Breonna’s thanes stalking the villa. They meant to attack the knights and sorcerers—then Tyrus cursed because they must have been after Marah.
His disbelief became rage in a heartbeat, and he sprinted toward the villa. A handful of thanes had reached the gate when Tyrus barreled into them and savagely hacked them apart. Compared to the demons, they were made of flimsy stuff. He was about to butcher them all when an arrow thunked into his shoulder.
Tyrus spun, but he didn’t see the bowman. More arrows darted at him, and he spotted a group of Norsil archers across the street, using a crushed building as cover. He had no shield, but he refused to abandon Marah. As he considered the best way to charge across the street, Lahar hurried to his side and raised a shield.
Tyrus wanted to thank him, but a strange sight pulled his attention to the skies. Two figures fell, spinning around each other, trapped in a death spiral. They smashed into King’s Rest, and the keep disappeared in a cloud of smoke and dust that roared through the streets of Shinar.
Tyrus whispered, “Brynn.”
More arrows flew into the villa. Silas and Larz had stepped forward to help, as had the other knights. Olroth joined them, and they formed a skirmish line at the ruined gate in the villa’s ring wall. Tyrus peeked out at Breonna’s archers across the street. The Islanders were with them and sent fiery orbs at the villa. Larz and Silas defended against them.
Tyrus reached up and pulled the arrow from his shoulder. The pain made him snarl, but he dared another arrow to look for Breonna. He didn’t see her anywhere near her thanes, but he spotted more clansmen rushing the villa.
Marah strained under the weight of the battle. The fury being wrought beyond her shield, the storm of sorcery that kept slamming into her defenses, was wearing her down. Sweat matted her hair, and her knees trembled. She gasped as explosions smashed into the air above her, and she struggled to maintain her focus. She saw violent flurries beyond the shield, angels and demons tearing each other apart, and the temptation to gaze at them threatened to unravel all her runes.
Dance of Battle: A Dark Fantasy (Shedim Rebellion Book 4) Page 55
