Irmina nodded. Hardan had been insistent on their comprehension of those specific rules. She’d been unsure of his reasons until now.
“What can we do to stop him or them?” She nodded toward Buneri’s Matii.
Half of her original fifteen thousand remained. The rest were dead or dying, their bodies strewn about the square. The survivors were steadily retreating while attempting to keep Quintess and Berenil alive. Already she’d practically given up hope on assistance from Torandil. At least not in time to escape the Iluminus. However, if they managed to hold out in one of the buildings, help might yet arrive.
“You can do nothing. I, on the other hand …”
As his voice trailed off, Irmina glanced at Hardan. Eyes widening at what she saw, she almost lashed out with a Forge. She had to remind herself that she trusted him.
Hardan’s body twisted to an inhuman angle. His hand reached up and snapped his head over until it lay parallel to his shoulders. A tentacle, black as charcoal, sprouted from his neck. His body contorted, bloating then deflating as if something writhed within his armor. With a wet sound, the armor burst apart, revealing a writhing mass. Black skin stretched over muscle and sinew. A snake-like head rose up as the netherling grew. Horns sprouted from its head. Chitinous armor formed to cover the body. Four limbs, two on each side, jutted out from the rib cage. Hardan, now as a full netherling, screeched, the sound carrying across the battlefield. His eight eyes opened, milky white against the ebony of his face.
The entire battle stopped.
Darkness streaked from Hardan toward the balcony where Buneri stood. Hardan’s body followed, blurring across the distance.
“Raijin Irmina, Raijin Irmina,” a voice called, insistent, a hand tugging her arm.
Still in shock, she looked down. A Pathfinder wearing a strip of color on his arm that signified he belonged to her knelt at her feet.
“High Jin Quintess sent me to remind you of the zyphyl. She said now is the time.”
The words registered with Irmina even as she nodded absently. Yet, all she managed was to direct her attention to the balcony.
Buneri and Hardan had become a haze of whipping tentacles, strikes, and screeches. Their limbs were too hard to follow. At times it appeared Hardan had the upper hand, but Buneri slipped away on every occasion as if he was toying with him.
Below them, the battle had resumed. Several Dagodin archers in support of Buneri fired arrows up toward Hardan when he backed off a few feet. Blackness streaked down from him to tear them apart. It congealed into tiny eel-like minions.
The warning gong to announce passage through the Travelshaft wailed. The sound broke Irmina from her trance of watching the netherlings fight. She dashed toward the zyphyl.
Chapter 49
With the bells droning their arrival, Galiana stepped from the zyphyl’s grasp and opened her Matersense. Spread to her left and right, the army of Dosteri; the Mysteras’ refugees; thousands of clansmen in fur and leather, their great wolves and daggerpaws beside them; and the Matii commanded by Cantor shifted into ordered formations under the watchful eyes and yells of Weaponmasters. At first glance, one might have expected this to be a haphazard formation, but they’d been preparing for this. It showed in their rigid ranks.
She gazed out onto the city and school she once held dear. When they left Torandil, she warned everyone to expect some resistance, but she could not have anticipated what she saw before her. Chaos ruled. She couldn’t help but to stare for a moment before she collected her thoughts.
In the main square, all manner of Matii battled. The ones ahead of her were forcing another set to retreat. It didn’t take her long to discern the two sides. Those with armbands that signified their alignment with the Gray Council were losing … badly
Bodies and rubble littered once pristine flagstones. Intermingled with the reek of burned flesh, the acrid pall of smoke hung heavy, drifting into the air in gray plumes. Fire shot back and forth between the two groups. Lightning arced from the sky. Luminescent beams and bolts streaked and rippled across any distance separating the opposing forces before cutting swaths wherever they struck. Concussions rocked the plaza. Eerie screeches echoed. From what she could not tell or see. Steel rang on steel.
Where Raijin clashed against any other Matii, the fight turned quickly in the Tribunal’s favor. Only the Gray Council groups with Pathfinders offered any real resistance against them.
Tribunal cohorts reformed quickly to face Galiana and the arriving army. Comprised mainly of Dagodin brandishing sword and board or long lances, their uniforms and armor crimson to match their Ashishin counterparts, they were rigid in their discipline, unflinching with their response. At least a score of High Shin, their robes made up solely of colorful stripes, revealed themselves among the ranks. None appeared surprised or concerned by the presence of a new threat.
At their head was High Shin Neftana, her willowy form unmistakable. From Cantor’s reports, the woman should have been dead. The way she marched ahead of her forces spoke of her usual overconfidence.
Galiana signaled, and shields blossomed all around her. As Forges began in concert from the Tribunal Matii, the essences congealed, giving the air itself a thick texture. A nimbus grew, not only near them, but also spreading across and up as they drew on sunlight itself, one of the most powerful sources of the Streams.
All across the enemy lines, the cobbles lurched, once, twice, and then in waves that raced across the ground, tossing the enemy from their feet. With a rumble to challenge an avalanche, bricks and debris blasted at least forty feet into the air, taking soldiers with it.
The fountain assumed a gigantic humanoid form, twisted metal outlining a skeleton, stone blocks clacking together for muscle and body like a building creating itself without workers. Debris that should have fallen to the ground hung suspended for impossible moments before zipping into the monolith. The soldiers unlucky enough to be caught within the process were added as part of the titanic creature. Blood dribbled down its exterior. Its face formed into Halvor’s countenance. He roared, the wind from his voice billowing Galiana’s cloak.
Similar, smaller shapes followed by the thousands. In as much time as it took an eye to blink, each one resolved into Sven several times their normal height.
They smashed into the Tribunal lines. The enemy formation shattered under the impact. Armor was no match for the stoneform creatures. They swatted aside Dagodin and Ashinshin with no more regard than if they were insects.
As disciplined as the Tribunal’s armies often were, the sight of small mountains with arms and legs tearing into their ranks sent them into a panic. Ashishin lashed out with their Forges. The attacks did more damage than good as they blasted into not only Sven but their own allies as well. The Sven bellowed before massive arms swung down to turn human bodies into pulp.
Galiana cringed as she watched the decimation. Years spent fighting the Harnan and the Sven in the Nevermore Heights resurfaced. She could imagine the horror these Matii experienced. It had been the same for her.
Not all the Tribunal’s soldiers faltered. Led by High Shin and the more battle-hardened Raijin, small pockets fought together. Instead of attacking with Forges, they relied on the divya they wielded. Using the power imbued into their armor, they became little more than red streaks that darted from one Sven to the next. They delved into fighting Styles and Stances too intricate for her to follow, each one an imitation of an essence. The squeal or ping of metal meeting stoneform flesh quickly became painful bellows.