Sharess ran her hand distractedly through her blonde hair. “They’re moving fast. Really fast. Maybe ten minutes?”
Scorio smiled. “Best call the Iron Vanguard. I’m sure Xandera is aware. I’ll meet you all outside.”
Scorio strode out the great archway and out onto the bridge. The moat below was alive with lava, which burped and roiled and flowed turgidly as if to reflect the queen’s perturbation.
The fifty Titans were lined up as before, facing outward, and Scorio passed through their ranks to reach the far end of the small plateau and gaze out over the Iron Weald’s canyon. The Telurian Band’s sun was low against the horizon, so that crimson light flooded north like blood from a wound. The iron cliffs rose to tower above them, rough and imposing, and between them lay the broken valley floor.
In the distance, closing fast, came the Blood Ox’s horde. Scorio narrowed his eyes. They were little more than shadows at this distance, but he thought he could distinguish the larger Symmetrons amidst the shimmering carpet of Nethercoils and Ixithilions. At this distance they didn’t appear a true army; more a great band of fiends, a hundred or more individuals who were closing rapidly with their target.
No sign, obviously, of the Blood Ox.
“They must be near death,” said Naomi.
“Their hunger no doubt drives them on.”
“Maybe when they realize they won’t be getting their feast they’ll lose heart.”
“Or,” said Scorio, “be driven into a murderous fury.”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Naomi took Scorio’s hand, and together they watched the horde approach. They were moving astonishingly quickly. With each passing moment the individual fiends grew more distinct, the size of their band more imposing.
“We have the high ground,” said Naomi at last. “That’ll count for something.”
“If we can hold the edge. Otherwise they’ll just spill into the plateau.”
“Last chance for us to hole up inside the spire,” said Alain, appearing beside Scorio.
“We’re looking to inflict rapid losses on them,” replied Naomi. “We can do that if we’re just fighting in the main entrance.”
“I’d feel better about it,” said Alain, hugging himself.
Naomi smiled. “You’ll be alright. Has your punch charged up?”
“A little.” Alain considered his fist with despondent frown. “Not enough.”
To Scorio’s surprise, Naomi reached out and gave Alain a friendly shove. “Well, you used it at the right time. I’ve got some ideas for your date with Fyrona. We just have to get through this.”
“You do?” Alain perked up. “I was thinking we should actually do something, you know? Because I tend to talk too much, and when I get nervous I say the exact wrong things, usually the stuff I’m actively trying not to say, it’s like this weird compulsion, so I’d probably tell her how badly I want to see her naked or something like that and then the date would get weird -”
Naomi’s stare checked him.
“What?” Alain rubbed the back of his head. “I mean, it’s true. I really, like, really want things to work out with her. And to see her naked. If possible. And with her permission.”
“You are such a freak,” said Naomi, smiling again despite herself.
Alain’s smile was hopeful. “Maybe Fyrona likes freaky guys?”
Scorio sensed people approaching, and turned to see the Iron Vanguard filtering toward them through the Titans. Amity and Valdun were in the lead, and despite himself Scorio couldn’t help but be cheered by Amity’s rugged smile. The two Pyre Lords stepped up beside them and considered the approaching enemy.
“Now that’s a sight,” said Amity, crossing his arms over his chest. “Looks like it’ll be a fiend per Great Soul. Not the best odds, considering most of us are Flame Vaults.”
The rest of the Iron Vanguard moved to stand along the plateau’s edge. Scorio could sense their nervousness. This was probably the first time most of them had even seen fiends of this caliber.
Not to mention the awareness of who lurked in the background.
“We’re not alone,” said Scorio, and to his relief the queens began to emerge from the archway. They’d grown already from their nine-year-old selves to appear twelve or thirteen; more and more of them filed out and crossed over the bridge, their long hair glowing golden, their large eyes burning brightly, their expressions set in stubborn defiance.
Leading them was Queen Xandera, older in form and clearly in command. She stood preeminent, slithering forward on her great tail, formidable and with her black plating reinforced so that she now seemed encased in true armor. She wielded a trident longer than Scorio was tall, its three tines burning bright, and the air about her shimmered continuously as if pouring off a furnace.
A dozen enhanced Titans followed behind, and the fifty Titans arrayed before the bridge stirred to life. All marched forward, and Valdun gave a curt shout, ordering the Iron Vanguard back.
A few moments later the twenty queens lined the edge of the plateau, slender shoulder to slender shoulder, gazing down with pitiless expressions at the valley and oncoming horde. Queen Xandera joined Scorio and the others at the top of the road that was worn into the steep slope, and planted the butt of her trident upon the hard rock.
“The moment has come,” she said, voice husky.
“Here it is.” Scorio inhaled deeply.
Valdun looked decidedly nervous in the queen’s presence. “If I may, I suggest we array the Iron Vanguard’s long-range combatants along the front here, and do our best to drop as many of the fiends as we can as they climb the rise. Then, once we’ve done what we can, we fall back and turn the plateau into a killing field, with our close fighters holding the fiends back as your queens and yourself throw lava at them -”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Queen Xandera, her tone quiet. She was studying the approaching fiends, who were now perhaps only minutes from reaching the base of the slope. “The way we blazeborns fight is quite different.”
“With all respect,” said Amity, “we’re going up against a mass of Gold-ranked fiends. No blazeborn army has ever faced such a foe.”
Xandera smiled down at the Pyre Lord. “No blazeborn army has ever been composed of so many Gold-infused queens. And no queen has ever wielded a fraction of my power.”
“So what do you suggest?” asked Scorio.
“Have your forces wait and watch. Whomever survives to climb the approach, you may kill. There won’t be many.”
“Mighty generous of you,” groused Amity.
“Ah, question?” Alain had raised his hand. “When do we start this fight? Because I think maybe we should start now.”
Scorio glanced back. The fiends were charging toward the base of the slope. They were only several hundred yards away now, the Ixithilions pulling ahead, their pale forms like phantoms in the gloom, and numbering some forty or fifty strong. Behind them came a wall of Nethercoils, almost as fast, pounding along on their tentacled arms and legs. The thirty or so Symmetrons had fallen behind, but they were the final wave that would crush whatever the first two ranks had failed to destroy.
“We begin now,” said Xandera, and raised her trident.
The queens up and down the length of the edge of the plateau raised their arms in unison, their hair flowing around them as if they were a cresting wave of lava that was about to flood down the slope.
The ground shuddered.
Scorio fought the urge to ignite. All around him Great Souls were drinking in the Iron mana that lay heavy in the air. The ground trembled again, and Queen Xandera began to radiate such a heat that the Great Souls were pushed back by her aura.
The first Ixithilions reached the base of the slope, their spiked legs sending up bursts of shattered clay and rock as they hurled themselves forward.
The slope rose at first gradually from the valley floor only to grow ever more steep until it was nearly a forty-five degree angle just before the edge. Smooth, artificial, part of the spires’ base, its slick and smooth nature would be no impediment to the fiends assaulting the spires.