The Kanese flinched away, eyes huge under the lips of their helmets. The severed hafts clattered to the stones, loud in the sudden silence. ‘Beru Bless us!’ Lean cursed behind him, awed.
Osserc's own weapon! Could it be, truly?
Kyle edged forward, recovering his lost footing. He crouched down behind his shield. Now I am ready. Beside him Coots and Badlands exchanged savage, elated grins.
Kyle remained in line while the others traded off. After his blade sliced shields in half and shattered swords no one would face him. The respite allowed the Avowed to recover, though for Black and Amatt the fight was over. Loss of blood left them unable to stand. The rest traded off in quick succession and in this system, presided over ruthlessly by Lean, they held.
K'azz was in communication with Shimmer through the Brethren. She reported that Skinner and his remaining Avowed had quit the field, abandoning their remaining loyal Guardsmen regulars. Shimmer and the majority of the surviving Guard had established a strongpoint. She claimed to have reached a temporary truce with the Imperials. In any case, the Wickans that had smashed Skinner's command now merely encircled Shimmer, content with containment. Later K'azz reported that Shimmer expected formal negotiations to begin any time and that they had to hold off the Kanese in order that she could press for as favourable terms as possible. K'azz concurred.
Just after this report from Shimmer, Kanese horsemen came fording laboriously up the middle of the bridge. They forced their way through the press of soldiers like ships over a heavy sea, beating their way through the men with switches and kicks. At a bellowed command from the leading figure the infantry stepped back, spears levelled. Into the resultant ringing silence the fellow yelled, ‘Who commands here?’
‘I do!’ Lean answered, stepping forward. She pushed her scalp up and pressed it in place.
He drew off his helmet. He was a dark fellow with a neatly trimmed moustache and beard. He bowed as well as he could while mounted. ‘Commander Pirim ‘J Shall at your service.’ He motioned to the rider behind: ‘Invigilator Durmis.’ The robed man bowed far more awkwardly, his pained gaze fixed far beyond them to the north cliffs.
‘We commend you, Guardsmen, on a heroic defence – though it has cost us dear. But we come bringing news. Are you by any chance in communication with the main body to the north?’
An unsure glance back from Lean. ‘We are.’
‘Then, the Invigilator Durmis is most insistent-’
‘What do they sense?’ the robed man cut in.
‘Sense?’
‘Yes, damn you! Inquire through your Brethren.’
Lean glanced back again, bloodied brows wrinkled. K'azz nodded. ‘A moment,’ she reported.
K'azz straightened, calling, ‘They report disturbances among the Warrens.’
‘And growing,’ the Invigilator added. ‘Something is coming blasting its way through the Warrens like a collapsing tower and it's headed right for here!’
Commander waved a hand deprecatingly. ‘He may be exaggerating… the Invigilator's job is to be wary of such irresponsible abuses among the men and women you name Talents – such as may threaten our Confederacy. A main reason, by the way, why we did not resort to such extreme measures to eliminate you from our path. For to do so would be to invite retaliation and escalation from your formidable Avowed mage cadre, yes? Thus costing us significantly more personnel than otherwise, yes?’ A smug smile. ‘In any case, the office's more enthusiastic members have been known from time to time-’
Invigilator Durmis kneed his mount to bump into the commander's. ‘This is real,’ he ground out.
‘Like the warning earlier this night? Of impending thaumaturgic transgression? The mere arrival of a few horsemen?’
‘Who knows who they could have been? They may have been allies of the Guard! In any case, those horsemen won the battle for the Empress.’
‘A point curiously moot to us here on this bridge!’
Lean cleared her throat. ‘Gentlemen! We are still in parley?’
Commander Pirim returned his attention to the front. He pulled on his long, cream-hued jupon to straighten it, adjusted his helmet under his arm. ‘Invigilator Durmis insisted upon this exchange of intelligence. To my mind formalities have been observed. We are done.’ He bowed.
Lean answered the bow, her hand still pressed to her head.
The commander struggled to turn his mount and, from the gathering rage and dismay on his face, found that he could not. He cut his switch viciously at the men pressed in around him. ‘Make way, damn you! Way!’
Lean turned an arched brow on Kyle and those of the line. Coots gave a mocking hoot. Invigilator Durmis, however, remained motionless on his mount. He sat slumped, hands folded before him. ‘It is here,’ he said, sounding defeated.
Kyle risked a quick glance behind. Above the cliffs the night sky of the north-west seemed to swirl, stars rippling. A pink and orange glow gathered, streaming into banners and crown-like circles that widened, fading. ‘What is it?’ he breathed.
Then a flash like an immense distant fire blossoming only to be snuffed out. Shortly afterwards a muted roll of thunder reached them. Lean looked to K'azz. ‘Something has struck the battlefield,’ he reported. ‘Cut a swath through units on the west flank. Left a trail of wreckage.’
Commander Pirim's brows rose in almost comical surprise and alarm. He looked to Lean. ‘I suggest a truce – for the time being.’
Lean bobbed her head, wincing. ‘Agreed.’
Whether the sea would swallow Ho and his mage escapee companions had become immaterial. As Yath's control over the disparate chords of his ritual participants gradually asserted itself he took steps to protect the vessel. A cocoon of power edged round its sides. Through the barrier's pulsing multicoloured walls the sea appeared to have been left behind – the Forlorn seemed to float on nothing.
Sighing her profound relief, Devaleth sat with a heavy thump next to Ho. She massaged her hands. Sweat coursed down her ashen face. Unnerving groans now sounded from the vessel as timbers creaked, popping and flexing. The masts shivered, their tops shorn off where they met the aurora of power above. The deck juddered beneath them and she and Ho shared uneasy glances.
‘Where are we?’ Treat asked of Fingers, hushed.
‘Sere,’ the mage whispered.
A scream made everyone jump. One of the ritual mages had leapt to his feet. He pointed at Yath, mouthed something unintelligible. Two of the Avowed, Dim and Reed, stepped in to calm him. He wrenched his arms from their grasp, clasped his hands to his head, all the while howling his own personal horror. The Avowed fought to subdue him but incredibly the skinny fellow pushed them aside. He gouged at his face as if he would tear it open then in two long steps reached the side and threw himself over. His shriek was cut short as he passed beyond the barrier.
‘Otataral madness,’ Devaleth said to no one in particular.
‘Perhaps…’ Su answered, her black, wrinkled eyes almost narrowed shut. Ho turned to snarl another warning about her damned airs but stopped, realizing that her gaze was fixed upon Yath, and that the man's sharp glittering eyes returned her steady stare.
‘I have identified the disturbance,’ Su announced, her gaze unwavering upon Yath.
‘Yes?’ Ho asked.
‘It is a general contagion that infects almost all of us to greater and lesser degrees. But which is concentrated mainly in two carriers…’
Yath slowly straightened from his cross-legged position. He levelled his staff across his front. A wide, hungry smile crept up his lips.
‘Yes?’ Ho asked again, vexed. ‘Who?’
‘Its two main foci are our Seven Cities friend and…’ she turned her head aside, pointed, ‘… him.’
Across the stern Blues’ brows rose. He pointed to himself. ‘What? Me?’
‘Oh yes…’
Yath pointed his staff at Reed; the Avowed looked to Blues, unsure. An aura identical to that of the shifting walls surrounding them lashed out from the staff to strike Reed who shrieked, writhing. Before their eyes the mage-fire consumed him, leaving a blackened smoking corpse.