Eyes ablaze, Neftana strode forward, thin, heated lines tinged with darkness spurting from her fingers to slice through several stone and metal-encrusted legs. When the affected Sven crashed to the earth amid billows of dirt and dust, Dagodin fell upon them, spears and swords flashing as they rose and fell. The Sven buried under that melee did not rejoin the battle.
Almost an entire cohort had surrounded Halvor. Galiana gripped her robes against the urge to Forge and help him. Their plan demanded her discipline even if it meant seeing them die. Of that, Halvor had insisted.
The Svenzar let out a shout to challenge thunder. The noise broke through the din of battle, the cries of men and beast. It was as if for a moment the conflict paused. He folded his arms across his chest and tucked his head down. His Sven copied him.
“Kill them!” Neftana screamed, panic clear in her voice.
Before the first weapon struck, the surface of each Sven and the Svenzar burst like a boil pricked by a pin. A rain of earth, stone, and metal fell, much of it hanging unnaturally in the air. The creatures, now returned to their original sizes became one with the ground, sinking into it, their once hardened bodies dissolving into a muddy consistency.
The signal, at last. Tension eased from Galiana’s shoulders.
First Jerem, and then Cantor and his Pathfinders strode next to her, followed by Jerem’s Matii from Calisto. She felt the others gathering, the essences rushing into them. Raijin could manage a vast number of feats, as could Pathfinders and High Shin, but none could defend against the element of surprise.
While she watched, most of the debris changed shape in midair. It became solid. Tiny legs sprouted-legs resembling those that belonged to a spider but tipped with bone. Wild screeches echoed as the cause for the panic in Neftana’s voice became clear. By the tens of thousands, mindless gerde formed, each one half the size of a man. When they landed, they skittered across the ground, more insect than Sven, their eight legs propelling them at incredible speed. They leaped on any person close enough, spiky attachments on the ends of their feet stabbing into armor and flesh, tearing bodies asunder. The battle became a blood sea.
Keeping her expression stoic despite the bile in her throat, Galiana raised a hand. With the Pathfinders this close, she basked in the pleasure of not feeling or hearing the essences’ maddening whispers. To her right and left, standard-bearers waved flags, the Guardian Wall and the Quaking Forest flying high.
Power built within her. It grew from a thrum to a whine. Sweet ecstasy. She unleashed the first salvo and the others with her.
Her attacks were the finest streaks of heat and light, honed to points like crossbow bolts. Jerem and the other High Shin repeated her Forging. His Matii sent forth a rolling wave of fire.
Her targets were the opposing High Shin and Raijin. Kill the head and the body will follow. The flame wall was meant for the gerde.
All along the Tribunal’s lines, Matii fell, pierced through the chest or head, wounds cauterizing after the essences struck. The fire wave washed over them.
Buried in heat and flame, screams and wails issued from the Matii and gerde alike, the humans sounds somehow more animalistic in their death throes. The cacophony crawled across Galiana’s skin. She whispered a prayer for the dead.
Her attention turned to the remainder of the battle. Smoke choked the air in black plumes. Halvor and the Sven had reemerged in several other areas, now more their normal size but no less deadly. The Svenzar was helping a group of Pathfinders who were defending a wagon. Galiana squinted. A familiar form in full black Raijin regalia fought against others similarly garbed. Accompanied by two Pathfinders, Irmina was carving a path toward her and the Travelshaft. Death walked with her.
A strange occurrence caught Galiana’s eye. Darkness blurred around several Forgers. The men and women uttered wordless screams before they fell, their bodies riddled with wounds. The darkness resolved into wriggling snake-like monstrosities.
What in Ilumin’s name-?
The earlier screech cut her off. This time, when she glanced up, she picked out the sound’s origin. Her breath caught in her throat.
On the balcony above them, two netherlings battled. The creatures were a mass of ebony chitin and tentacles. Mater flew from them at dazzling speeds. Not the single or dual essences she was so accustomed to but complete elements. The Forges were so complex that they passed beyond her comprehension. At times, the netherlings launched from the balcony out into midair, striking at each other before flitting back to solid ground. Neither appeared to have the advantage.
That all changed when several lightning bolts streaked down from what had been a clear sky but was now a mottled gray. Before they could strike their intended targets, tentacles flashed up to form a writhing, fleshy dome. The bolts struck and dissipated.
Galiana snatched a glance to discern the attack’s origin. Several of her own Matii from Eldanhill and the other Mysteras were drawing in another stream of essences. “No!” she screamed. “NO! Fools you will break-”
But it was too late. Flame lances, their orange glow imprinting themselves on her retinas, shot toward the netherlings. In the same instant, darkness blurred to the Matii, reappearing as the black creatures she noted earlier. Her warning cry died in her throat as the creatures devoured them like a school of carnivorous fish, tearing flesh from bone.
A piercing screech, higher and wilder than any before it, sent chills through her.
Impaled by the other’s chitinous arms, the netherling that had used its tentacles for defense flopped to one side. When the victor glanced down toward her, she got the premonition the wrong one had died. With a high-pitched wail, it flung the corpse away.
Forge after Forge tore toward the creature. Helpless, Galiana could only stare as its tentacles whipped out. With ease, it deflected the attacks.
The netherling’s counter came in the form of several hundred black beams no thicker than rope. Each connected to a person and ripped their spines from their bodies. Sela coalesced from each corpse. The worm-like minions streaked to the essences and devoured them. Moments later, Halvor and the Sven charged any other Matii who attempted to attack.
“We have to get to the Vallum now,” Jerem yelled. “It’s the only way to survive that thing.”
Galiana nodded numbly. The calls went out for retreat. Even as they did so, more ropy tendrils shot out, ensnaring more of her people. The Tribunal’s Matii had backed off to reform on one side of the square. This gave the netherling and its minions ample space to feed at will.
“There’s no escape for us.” Galiana’s insides wilted. She found it fitting that all the years spent to make the world better would end where it all began.
“Tell that story to someone else,” a voice said next to her.
She turned to see Irmina standing there, gaze riveted on the carnage within the square. The wagon, still guarded by the Pathfinders trundled behind her. Quintess and her own cohort was a part of the escort.
“I didn’t begin this fight to see it end here.” Irmina brushed back disheveled hair from her sooty, bloodstained face.
“No one here can defeat that.” Jerem nodded toward the netherling. “With the bonds to restrict it broken, we will be nothing but fodder.”
“You can call yourself food if you want, but I am no one’s lunch. Gather as many survivors as you can. I will join you shortly after I buy us some time.” The young Raijin’s eyes grew steely as she stalked toward the Travelshaft.
Frowning, Galiana asked, “What do you plan to do?”
“Tame a zyphyl.”
“How?”
“By promising what it desires most … freedom.”
Chapter 50