Wolf flung up his widest shield, protecting the crew and sekasha surrounding him. “Stay close!”
The rocket struck his wind wall and exploded into a fireball that curved around them, following the edges of his shield. The deflected energy splashed back in a wave of pulverized earth, like a stone thrown into mud.
A piece of metal skimmed overhead and struck the gossamer. The shrapnel smashed the gossamer sideways, blasting through the nerve center of the creature. The airship gave one last agonizing wail and collapsed.
Wolf shifted carefully to maintain his shield and did a wind scry. The scrying followed the disturbance of the rocket path through the air, making it visible to him. It pointed back to a window a few houses down from the paparazzi’s spy perch. The Rim had razed all the buildings between the airfield and the street at the first Startup, so he had an equally clear shot back at the sniper.
Wolf summoned a force strike and flung it along the scry. The power arrowed away, plowing a furrow in a straight line for the human structure. The force strike punched its way through the building, reducing the structure instantly to a cloud of dust and a pile of rubble strewn into the alley behind it.
“Have someone escort the crew to safety.” Wolf told his First. “The rest, come with me.”
Maintaining his shield forced him to move slowly toward the human buildings, following the rut carved out by the force strike. The dust expanded, shrouding the area as he crossed the no-man’s-land of the Rim.
“Keep the winds close,” Wraith murmured as they reached the street. “There may be more than one nest.”
Wolf nodded his understanding. The sekasha activated their shields and moved out of his protection. The house had been two stories tall. It made a large hill of rubble, capped by the broken rooftop. If there were any survivors, they’d have to be dug out.
Maynard emerged out of the dust, followed by a score or more of his people in EIA uniforms. All of the EIA were spell-marked, verifying that they were human.
“Wolf Who Rules.” Maynard bowed and signaled his people toward the rubble.
“Maynard.” Wolf nudged his shield slightly so it wrapped Maynard in his protection.
“What happened?” Maynard eyed the rubble as his people started to sift through it.
Wolf indicated the dead airship with his eyes; maintaining his shields limited his ability to motion with his hands. “Someone fired on what is mine. I returned fire.”
Maynard glanced at the distortion around them. “How long can you keep up your shields?”
“There is no reason for concern.” The Wind clan’s spell stones rested on a powerful fiutana that provided unlimited magic. “My gossamer is dead, but my crew is all safe. For that I am thankful.”
A call came from the EIA digging through the rubble. Most of the roof had been shifted off. In the debris of the second floor was a female huddled under a sturdy table. She appeared human, as small and dark as Wolf’s domi. Old bruises, like purple and yellow flowers, marked her face and arms; someone beat her on regular occasions.
She gazed at Wolf with fear. “Don’t let them have me! We’re like cockroaches to them! Razing this neighborhood is just the start of them stomping us out!”
The human workers moved reluctantly aside to let the sekasha claim her. Wraith took out his leather bound spell case, and slipped out a biatau and pressed it to the female’s arm.
She whimpered and one the watching EIA said, “It doesn’t hurt. We’ve all had it done to us.”
The simple spell inscribed onto the paper of the biatau was merely the first of the spells that the EIA had been subjected to, but it was the quickest and easiest to use as a first screening process. The oni had relied on an optical disguise spell that let them appear human; the biatau, when activated, would shatter the illusion and allow their true form show.
Wraith spoke the verbal command and the spell activated. There was, however, no change to the woman’s appearance.
Maynard sighed deeply, as if he saw all the dangerous complications that the woman presented. “She’s human.”
“Unfortunately.” Wolf motioned that the EIA should take her prisoner.
“Here’s another one.” Bladebite called.
The second person was a large male, badly hurt. Wraith took out another biatau with the same spell and used it on the male. There was a ripple of distortion and the male’s features shifted slightly to a more feral looking face with short horns protruding from his forehead.
“Oni.” Wraith growled out the word.
“He’s badly hurt,” Maynard said. “The prison has a medical ward. We can take him there.”
Wraith jerked the oni up onto his knees.
“Wolf,” Maynard said quickly and quietly. “We have protocols on how prisoners are to be treated. The Geneva Convention states that the wounded and sick shall be collected and cared for.”
“We do not accede,” Wolf said, “to your Geneva Convention.”
In one clean motion, Wraith unsheathed his sword and beheaded the oni.
The woman shrieked and tried to launch herself toward the dead body.
“Wolf, you can’t do this!” Maynard growled.
“It has been done,” Wolf said.
Maynard shook his head. “The treaty, which the elves signed, states that you will adhere to the Geneva Convention in the treatment of prisoners.”
“For human prisoners,” Wolf said. “We will not take oni prisoners.”
Maynard frowned. “That is the only option you’re entertaining? A massacre of all the oni?”
“They breed like mice,” Wolf said. “We do not fight for today, or this year, or even this century, but for this millennium — and to do so, we must be ruthless. If we leave a hundred alive, in a few years they will be several thousand in number, and in a thousand years, millions. We can not allow them to live, or they will crowd us out of our own home.”
“You can’t let the elves do this!” the woman wailed. “If we don’t stop the elves, they’ll turn on us next.”
“It’s their world.” Maynard leveled his gaze and words at his watching men, aiming his words at them alone. “Not ours.”
“It was their world!” the woman shouted. “We stuck here now, so it’s ours too.”
There was a flaw in Maynard’s logic. The old arguments that Maynard could have used to counter her were useless now. Her railing, unfortunately, could lead the humans to dangerous ground, so Wolf interceded.
“We are willing to share with humans. We do not wish to share with oni. A full contingent of royal troops is on its way to Pittsburgh. When they arrive here, their goal will be to find and kill every oni that ever stepped foot on Elfhome. My people have committed genocide before and have full plans to do it again. I strongly caution you do not put the human race between the royal troops and our enemy.”
Whatever impact his words had, however, were lost when the woman suddenly looked past Wolf and shrieked. Wolf turned to see what she was focused on. One of the EIA workers had a small squirming creature in his arms. As the man neared, Wolf realized that the creature was a child, species so far undetermined, but human looking.
Wolf sighed. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this; that he would only have to deal with adult oni. Certainly among all of the elves, there were no children. In fact, he was fairly sure that — not counting his domi’s unusual status — Little Horse was the youngest elf in Pittsburgh. Unfortunately, when one could breed like mice, one did.
The nametag of the EIA worker holding the child read “U.D. Akavia.”
“The child needs to be tested, Akavia,” Wolf said.