The Daylight War

27

333 AR Autumn

Waning

‘How does it work?’ Jardir asked, staring in fascination at the Skull Throne, now sheathed in electrum. She had drawn the thick curtains in the throne room, allowing his crownsight though sunset was still an hour away. He could see the steady stream of power the throne radiated in every direction. Its centre shone hot with concentrated magic, like a miniature sun.

‘Your throne now projects a-’ Inevera began.

‘-warding field,’ Jardir finished for her. ‘Not even the princes of Nie will be able to approach my seat …’ He turned, following the path of the magic, looking through the great stone walls as easily as one might look through glass. ‘… for miles.’

It was truly amazing. The Crown of Kaji could repel alagai as well. Jardir had mastered its power in recent weeks, learning to extend the protection far beyond his physical reach. No alagai could approach within a quarter mile of him, but that he willed it. He could protect an army on the field, but this, this protected the entire inner city and beyond. The demons might strike at his walls, even knock them down, but they would never get past them.

He looked back at Inevera, his mouth curling in a smile. ‘I did not ask what it did, beloved. I asked how it worked.’

Inevera’s aura flushed with shock, and then disappointment that she would not be able to parade around the marvel she had made, revealing its power to him in teasing bits.

Let her have the moment next time, he chided himself. With this gift, she has earned it a thousandfold.

To his surprise, Inevera laughed. Not the bark of derision she threw now and then, but a full laugh, infectious and true. There was no more beautiful sound in all Everam’s creation.

‘You never cease to amaze me, Ahmann,’ Inevera said. ‘Every time I begin to question, you remind me you truly are Shar’Dama Ka.’

Jardir might have doubted, but her aura swelled with pride and he knew she meant every word. He reached out, touching her cheek, and watched the shiver it sent through her spirit. ‘I understand perfectly … Damajah.’ He bent and kissed her, feeling himself flush at the passion she was radiating. She might lie to him when she thought it necessary, but Inevera’s love for him was true. What more could a man ask in his Jiwah Ka?

She took a step back when he broke the kiss, reining her feelings in. He was amazed at her control, watching the hot chaos of her aura quickly become cool, ordered. Now was not the time.

‘The skull of an alagai prince has been added to your sacred throne, amplifying the wards that have adorned the skulls of martyred Sharum Ka for centuries,’ Inevera said. ‘We used almost all the electrum to coat it …’

‘Almost?’ Jardir asked, smiling.

Inevera returned the grin, showing him her dice, now safely encased in the bright white metal. ‘You have your tools, and now I have mine.’ Her aura said she had coated more than just her dice, but he let her have her secrets. She was his Damajah, and it was fitting she wield power of her own.

‘I was right to give the metal to you,’ Jardir said. ‘Abban would have found a clever use for it, no doubt, but would never have thought of something so …’

‘Altruistic?’ Inevera supplied, and he had to laugh.

‘Unprofitable,’ he agreed.

‘I do not trust the khaffit, husband,’ Inevera said.

‘Abban is as loyal to me as you are,’ Jardir said.

Inevera shook her head. ‘He is loyal to himself first, and you second.’

Jardir nodded. ‘The same could be said of you, Bride of Everam.’

‘There is a difference in serving the Creator first,’ Inevera said.

‘Yes,’ Jardir agreed. ‘And no. No mortal man or woman can truly trust another, beloved. And yet somehow we must find a way, if we are to win Sharak Ka. Waning is upon us. Now is the time to face the dark, not worry about poisoned blades at our backs.’

Inevera opened her mouth to reply, but Jardir touched a finger to her lips. ‘You are the Bride of Everam, wife, yet I am the one with faith. Not just in the Creator, but in His children.’

‘Faith never gets the weaving done, my mother used to say,’ Inevera said. ‘The Creator helps those who earn it.’ Her aura called him a brave fool.

‘“The Creator helps”,’ Jardir repeated. ‘Do you think it coincidence we found the sacred metal of Kaji just weeks before the greatest test of my reign? We do not fight Nie alone, even if He does not strike the alagai down Himself. And if I am to deliver this world, I must believe that for all our differences, no one, man, woman or child, wishes it to fall to the alagai.’

Inevera did not argue further, but her aura remained unconvinced.

‘Your mother was a weaver?’ he asked, trying to change the subject. ‘I assumed she was dama’ting.’

Inevera’s aura suddenly went wild. There was shock, and fear, and a secret. Enough to fill him with questions, but not enough to answer them. He wondered if this was what reading the alagai hora was like for her.

‘You never speak of your family,’ he pressed, watching closely.

Inevera’s aura showed her searching desperately for a way to evade the question and change the subject. She gave off the scent of a cornered animal that would rather flee than fight. But then her chest rose and fell several times in rhythm, and a wave of calm spread over her.

‘Most dama’ting are the daughters of our order,’ she said. ‘Some few others are called by the dice in Hannu Pash. We cut off all contact with our families when called, and they do not know our fate from the moment we are taken.’

It was fascinating. Every word she said was true, and yet it read on her aura as a lie. ‘But you did not.’

Inevera smiled. A practised distraction while she breathed herself into serenity. She was wondering how much he knew, if he had been spying on her. She was carefully choosing words to reveal nothing she did not wish.

Jardir was tiring of the game. ‘Jiwah, you will stop your dissembling.’

His tone was harsh, and he watched as she leapt on it, using the excuse to get angry as a way to avoid the topic. Her brows drew into the thundercloud she had practised to perfection.

He smiled. ‘Stop that, too.’ He moved to her, taking her in his arms. She stiffened, and there was a token resistance as he pulled her close. ‘Do you love me, jiwah?’

‘Of course, husband,’ Inevera said without hesitation.

‘And do you trust me?’

There was a spike in her aura, and the slightest delay. ‘Yes.’ It wasn’t a lie, not precisely, but neither was it truth.

‘I do not know what secret you hold about your family,’ Jardir said. ‘But I see that you hold one, and that dishonours me.’ Inevera pulled back and tried to speak, but he shook his head. ‘When we wed, it was more than a union between us. Your family became mine, and mine yours. Whatever it is, I have a right to know.’

Inevera stared at him a long moment, her aura so chaotic he could not guess what her response would be. But then it calmed once more. ‘My parents are alive and in Everam’s Bounty. They are a source both of pride and of shame to me, and I fear for them if our relation is revealed.’ She met his eyes and bowed. ‘It was wrong of me to keep this secret from you, beloved. For this, I apologize.’

Jardir nodded. ‘Accepted, on one condition.’

Inevera raised an eyebrow.

‘I want to meet them,’ Jardir said.

‘I do not think that is wise, husband,’ Inevera said. ‘They would be in danger …’

‘I am Shar’Dama Ka,’ Jardir said. ‘I have hundreds of relatives. You think I cannot protect them?’

‘Not without costing them the simple life they enjoy now, far from palace intrigue,’ Inevera said.

Jardir laughed. ‘You can engineer my nieces into the ranks of Sharum, but not plot a way for me to meet your parents away from prying eyes? We both know you can find a way if you wish it.’

Inevera regarded him, still wary. ‘And if I do not wish it?’

Jardir shrugged. ‘Then I will know I come third in your eyes, and not second after Everam, as you claim.’

The curtains were still drawn as the counsellors entered the throne room. A few oil lamps gave artificial light, preserving Jardir’s crownsight as he regarded Jayan and his twelve Damaji. At the side of each of the tribal leaders were his second sons, and in Ashan’s case his nephew. Save for Asome and Asukaji, both eighteen years old, all were fifteen. Not wholly boys, but not men, either, still in the white bidos of nie’dama, a strip of white cloth thrown over one shoulder.

He could see in their auras that the Damaji still resented the boys who had displaced their own heirs. Leadership of a tribe was not automatically hereditary as it was in the green lands, but it was functionally so, with the brothers, sons, and nephews of the Damaji holding every advantage.

More, he could see the ties that bound the men to him like threads in the air. The common Sharum and dama might truly believe Jardir divine, but the Damaji served out of fear.

If I die this night, he thought, my sons will be killed the moment it is known. Jayan might hold his grip on the white turban, perhaps, and Ashan would protect Asukaji and Asome, but the other Damaji would not hesitate to slaughter his nie’dama sons. Aleverak would not break his oath not to harm Maji, but that oath had a clause they knew well. The ancient Damaji would drink poison to allow one of his sons to do the deed.

The Damaji talked among themselves, but Jardir thumped his spear once, and they fell silent. ‘Waning is upon us, Damaji. Alagai Ka and his princelings will rise tonight to test our people as we have not been since the Return.’ He could see doubt in some of the men, and fear in others. Most, however, held the flat control of years of meditation. ‘Jayan,’ he looked to the boy, seeing in his aura an eager excitement and a hope to prove himself, ‘will lead the Sharum.’

There was a burst of chatter at that. Jardir thumped his spear again.

‘Forgive us, Deliverer,’ Damaji Aleverak said. ‘Jayan has done well as Sharum Ka, and we offer no disrespect, but is it not the place of Shar’Dama Ka to lead in Sharak Ka?’

Jardir nodded. ‘I will stand beside my son for as long as I may, but when the princes of Nie show themselves, I must be free to act.’

‘And what will our place be?’ Asome asked.

Jardir looked at his son, seeing the seething anger beneath his calm exterior. ‘The dama will beseech Everam’s favour in the coming battle. That is no small thing, my son.’ He could see immediately that Asome thought prayer less than nothing with demons at the walls, but hoped he was wise enough not to voice the feeling.

Asome was not so easily deterred. ‘Why do dama study sharusahk, Father?’

‘Eh?’ Jardir asked.

‘Since I took my first steps, I have been practising the sharukin,’ Asome said. ‘I know of none, dama or Sharum, who can stand against me.’

Jayan snorted. ‘You boast because you have never faced a real opponent. You would find the alagai more formidable than the empty air you fought in Sharik Hora.’

Asome turned to his elder brother and sneered openly. ‘Come at me then, O great killer of alagai, and we will see.’

Jayan growled and took a step forward.

‘You will do no such thing!’ Jardir shouted with a thump of the spear. He had forbidden all of his sons to fight one another, even in sparring, and the wisdom of that decree was never clearer. He could see in their auras that Jayan and Asome would not hesitate to kill each other to clear their own path to the Skull Throne. ‘I will not have my sons brawling like nie’Sharum in the gruel line!’

Asome turned back to him, bowing. ‘As you command, Father, but you have not answered my question. I am forbidden to fight my brother. I am forbidden to fight the alagai. You have abolished the title of Andrah, so there is no need to fight the Damaji for the throne. Why have I spent every day of my life learning to fight, if I must stand idly by as Alagai Ka walks the land?’

Jardir hesitated. In truth, he could not disagree. Prayer would not help this night. But the Damaji and dama were not just Holy Men to his people; they were the secular leaders as well. The clerics were masters of sharusahk, but with the exception of Ashan they had never personally faced the alagai, and would offer little aid in coming battle. When dawn finally came, they would be essential in restoring order.

‘There is wisdom in what you say,’ Jardir admitted, ‘but Jayan speaks truly that the alagai are a foe the dama are not prepared for, and you yourself said Waning was not the time to introduce untried forces into alagai’sharak.’ He deepened his tone and swept his spear across the men in white. ‘The dama will bestow the blessings of the Creator upon the assembled men, and then go to the underpalace.’

Asome gave no outward sign as he bowed, back straight with dignity, but his aura seethed with rage, even as Jayan’s danced in delight. Already Jardir was regretting the decision, but it was done and he could not be forsworn with all Nie’s abyss about to rise.

‘Go!’ He clapped his hands, and the men began to file out. ‘Ashan,’ he called, and the Damaji waited behind as the others left. Jardir descended from the dais to stand beside him, Inevera following a step behind.

Ashan had been at Jardir’s side for twenty-five years, steadfast in his support as Jardir climbed the rungs of Krasian society to his place of power. The Damaji was married to his eldest sister, and had produced children of shared blood. There was no reason to doubt his devotion, but still Jardir called upon the powers of his crown, not just reading his surface aura, but probing deeply into his very spirit.

He saw in his friend’s heart that his trust had not been misplaced. Ashan did not crave power for its own sake, and truly believed, where many other Damaji did not, that Jardir was the Deliverer, sent by Everam to remake the world. He was not happy about the fate of Ashia, but he remained fiercely loyal.

‘Brother,’ he said, putting his hands on Ashan’s shoulders. ‘If I am killed tonight, you must take the Skull Throne.’ Ashan’s aura lit up in surprise, though Inevera’s remained flat, waiting for him to finish speaking.

‘Do not hesitate,’ Jardir said. ‘Announce your claim as Andrah and have Aleverak taken into custody. Kill the other Damaji before they have time to scheme.’ He looked hard into Ashan’s eyes. ‘Before they have time to kill my sons.’

Ashan nodded. ‘And then?’

‘The Spear of Kaji will go to Jayan,’ Jardir said, ‘but you will hold the crown and throne until the Damajah declares my successor.’

Ashan’s aura went white with shock, followed quickly with derision as he turned to regard Inevera, whose aura was now warm with approval. ‘You will deny your firstborn his birthright, and let a woman decide the fate of our people?’

Jardir nodded. ‘It was she who picked me, Ashan. We both know Jayan is not yet worthy, and may never be.’

‘And what of Asome?’ Ashan demanded. ‘I love your second son as if he were my own, and we have been grooming him since birth to be Andrah. Why should I take the Skull Throne and not him?’

‘I have looked into Asome’s heart, brother. He is no more ready than Jayan to rule, and if he sits above his brother, there will be blood on the streets. I have fifty-two sons, but most are still in the bido, or just out of it. It may be years before the worthiest is known.’

He tightened his hands, feeling the bones in Ashan’s shoulders grind and strain. The Damaji’s aura showed the pain, but he gave no indication of it. ‘For the good of our people, you will protect my Jiwah Ka and obey her in this, or I will find you in the afterlife, and we will have a reckoning.’

Ashan’s aura went cold for a moment, then warmed with determination. ‘That will not be necessary, Deliverer. If you should fall, it will be as you command.’ He looked up, meeting Jardir’s eyes. ‘But do not fall … brother.’

Jardir laughed and embraced him. ‘If I do, I will take Alagai Ka down with me.’

‘On alagai talons!’ the warriors roared, a call that must reach all the way to Heaven.

Jardir looked out over the assembled warriors with pride as Ashan led the Damaji in bestowing the blessings of Everam upon them. The sun was setting, and though it would still be some time before the alagai dare surface, wisps of magic were beginning to rise in the shadows, and his senses were coming alive.

The trained and blooded Sharum radiated confidence and faith, ready to fight and die on alagai talons, as was their right and honour. Their belief strengthened him, as did the knowledge that Inevera had secured the inner city. No matter what happened, his people would survive.

He rode with Jayan and the Spears of the Deliverer towards the wall of the outer city where Inevera had predicted the fighting would be thickest. She had been unable to fathom where the demons would strike first, but many futures held a single field littered with dead. Jardir prayed they weren’t riding into a trap.

He heard the crack of a whip, and turned to see a long line of chin marching for the wall. There were hundreds of them, lightly armed and armoured with warded spears and small shields, but they did not carry the weapons with confidence. All were shackled, connected by long chains threaded through iron loops, and their fear was palpable. These were men marching resignedly to their deaths, terrified of the lonely path. Many would not even have the courage to fight. They would break before the alagai like water poured on stone.

Jardir pulled up his white charger, and the others stopped with him. ‘Who are those men?’

‘Chin who have tried to flee the call to alagai’sharak, or dishonoured themselves in the night,’ Jayan said. ‘They are to be tethered like nie’Sharum, the chains staked in position. If they will not fight for honour, let them fight for their own lives.’

‘Halt!’ Jardir cried to the Sharum driving the line, and the men immediately stopped. All eyes turned to Jardir as he sprang lightly to his feet upon his horse’s back for all to see. He looked to the condemned men.

‘Your Tenders have lied to you!’ he shouted, drawing on the power of his crown to spread his voice far into the gloaming. ‘Since you were infants at your mother’s breasts, they have told you the alagai are a Plague sent by the Creator to punish the sins of man. They have told you that you deserve this, that you have no choice but to cower and hide and await forgiveness and redemption.’

He scanned the men, letting them see his eyes. ‘But Everam loves His children, and would not curse us so. The alagai are a Plague, but it is one sent by Nie, the Enemy, and redemption does not come to men who cower and skulk! It comes to those who take up the fight, struggling against the children of Nie on His Ala even as Everam struggles with Her in the heavens.’

A month ago, he might have thought the words pointless with such men, but now he could see into their hearts, and knew they were tired of blaming themselves for the alagai, tired of being told that the homes and loved ones they lost were punishments they had brought upon themselves. They wanted to believe, but his people had broken them as badly as the demons, leaving them dispirited. They would give anything to be as men once more.

‘You have seen my people fight the alagai,’ Jardir said. ‘You know it can be done. They have training, it is true, but more than that, they have courage. Courage coming not from their spears, but from the knowledge that they fight for more than themselves. They fight for their wives and mothers, their sisters and daughters and infant sons. Their old and infirm.’

He swept his spear over the line of greenlanders. ‘You wear chains because my warriors do not believe you care. They believe you will not even fight to save yourselves, so they mean to stake you in the path of the alagai.’ He pointed back to the wall of the inner city. ‘But it is not just our women and children behind those walls! I have offered my protection to all who cannot fight, even your greenland women and children. They are crowded and cramped, but so long as we hold the walls, they are safe.’

He could sense a change in the men’s hearts, and grasped for it, holding aloft his spear and drawing on its power to make it shine bright with magic. ‘I will go into the night to fight for your people! I ask the same of you, but if you do not have the heart, you are no use to me this night.’

He pointed the spear at the centre of the line, its light flaring even brighter, and men pressed to either side in fear, opening a length of chain between them. Jardir drew a ward with the spear’s tip, and a bolt of white energy leapt from the weapon, shattering the chain.

‘Stand or flee,’ he shouted, ‘but remember you are men, and not dogs!’

The fear and doubt in the hearts of the men turned to awe, and many of them fell to their knees. Shanjat, astride his black charger next to Jardir, thrust his spear into the air. ‘Deliverer!’

The other Sharum took up the chant, followed by the kneeling chin, and then, a moment later, the rest of them. They thrust their spears skyward with every call, and their voices carried far into the night.

‘Those are the voices of men!’ Jardir boomed. ‘The servants of Nie will hear you, and quail in fear!’ He dropped back into his saddle, kicking off for the wall, followed by the Spears of the Deliverer and hundreds of roaring chin.

‘Everam curse me,’ Qeran muttered from atop the compound wall as he watched the Sharum march. ‘Waning is upon us, and here I stand, useless.’

‘Nonsense,’ Abban said. ‘The Deliverer needs his forges and glasseries guarded, that he may continue to arm his men after Waning. There may yet be fighting here.’

Qeran shook his head. ‘You have done well in hiding yourself, khaffit. There is no tactical advantage to this place, no reason for the alagai to test your walls. And the walls,’ he stamped his spear on the rampart, ‘are stronger than those of the inner city. The Deliverer’s … craftsmen are safe.’ He made the title seem a foul taste he could not scrape from his tongue.

‘You said yourself the men are not ready,’ Abban said, ‘nor yourself. You have barely had your new leg a fortnight.’

‘I said the men were not yet at their full strength,’ Qeran said, ‘nor me. But my hundred and I are still more fit than nine-tenths of the warriors out there.’

‘Your hundred?’ Abban asked.

Qeran looked at him, and Abban remembered how brutally the man had treated him in sharaj. He waited patiently, and savoured the slight nod Qeran gave him. ‘Abban’s hundred.’

Abban nodded, turning his gaze back to look out from the walls one last time before leaving the drillmaster to command as he limped back to the safety of the underpalace growing beneath the squat building in the centre of his compound.

Inevera found Asome and Asukaji in their private chambers in Ahmann’s underpalace. The two were playing with Asome’s infant son, Kaji.

‘What is it now, Mother?’ Asome glared at her as she entered, Ashia at her back. ‘Has not humiliation enough been heaped upon me?’

Inevera looked sadly at her son.

— The only thing that exceeds his potential is his ambition — the dice had said when she cast them eighteen years ago, bathed in his birthing blood. It told her he would be powerful, but spoke a warning as well.

‘Your wife and I will walk the walls during the battle, my son,’ she said. ‘I invite you to come with us.’

Asome looked at her as if sensing a trap. ‘Hasn’t Father ordered his wives and the dama’ting into the underpalace as well?’

Inevera shrugged. ‘Perhaps, but who will dare stop us?’

‘I might,’ Asome said.

Inevera nodded. ‘Or you might follow me … for my own safety. Surely your father would forgive you that.’

Asome turned to Asukaji. ‘Just you, my son,’ Inevera said.

The two men looked back at her, mistrust in their eyes once more.

‘Ahmann has not dissolved your marriage, Asome. At least, not yet. I would walk with my son and daughter-in-law at my side as Alagai Ka walks the night.’ She looked to Asukaji and infant Kaji. ‘Surely while we are gone, my nephew will protect my grandson as if he were his own.’

Asome darkened a bit at that, but Asukaji laid a hand on his arm. ‘It is all right, cousin. Go.’ His voice dropped to a whisper, but Inevera, her senses sharpened by magic, heard him. ‘I will keep our son until your return.’ He kissed Asome with such tenderness that Inevera’s heart ached for them both, but Ashia’s shifting behind her was a reminder that there was a third side in the triangle.

She looked to her grandson. And poor Kaji in the middle.

They walked in silence to the wall of the inner city. Inevera wore opaque robes of white silk, looking much like her dama’ting robes of old, but she wore her hood back, and her veil was gossamer. The warded gold coins were warm at her forehead, and she wore considerable jewellery, not all of it decorative. Her robes shimmered with wards of unsight stitched in electrum thread. The wards were Mistress Leesha’s, stolen from Ahmann’s Cloak of Unsight, but even knowing the Skull Throne would hold the alagai from the wall, she could not deny the comfort they gave her in the naked night.

Take her power and make it your own, Manvah had said, and Inevera silently thanked her mother once more for the lesson. She would have been a fool to turn away such magics simply because she despised the source.

But even without the protections of her robes and the Skull Throne, Inevera felt safe so long as Ashia was at her side. Enkido had told Inevera he could not be prouder of the girl’s fighting skill if she had been his own daughter.

Born to sharusahk, his nimble hands had said.

Ashia had a short, stabbing spear over her right shoulder, along with a small quiver of arrows. In her left hand, the same arm where she strapped her round shield, she gripped a short bow. The weapons were banded with warded gold and strips of hora. The armour beneath her black robes was indestructible warded glass, moulded to accent her feminine figure rather than mask it. Asome’s expression was unreadable as he regarded his wife.

The Mehnding Sharum guarding the gatehouse began buzzing among themselves as the trio approached. A moment later a kai’Sharum appeared, blocking their path with a deep bow. ‘Apologies, Damajah, but …’

Asome was moving before the man could straighten, taking his chin firmly in hand as he threw. There was an audible snap, and the man hit the ground, dead. ‘Does anyone else wish to hinder the Damajah?’

The remaining Sharum fell to their knees, pressing foreheads to the cobbled street. After a moment, a red-veiled drillmaster rose with a bow and escorted them up to the wall.

The Mehnding tribe was third largest of the twelve tribes of Krasia, due in no small part to the mastery of war engines and ranged weapons that kept them from the close combat other Sharum engaged in. They were more engineers and marksmen than warriors, but they manned the walls of the inner and outer city with the steel-eyed vigilance of trained killers.

Everam’s Bounty was built on a hill, with the inner city at its peak. Ahmann’s palace was its highest point, but even the low wall of the inner city offered an impressive vantage of the countryside. Wardlight dotted the terrain as the sun set, and mirrored bonfires sprang up to help the Sharum see the enemy.

And as feared, the enemy came in force. The Skull Throne protected a large section of ground past the walls, but in the unwarded patches of the outer city, massive rock demons — larger than anything Inevera had ever seen — rose to tower over the warriors assembled to contain them. At their heels clustered field and flame demons, filling the open patches in seething scales and gouts of bright flame.

The Mehnding kai’Sharum signalled the attack. Keen-eyed spotters with distance lenses mounted on tripods called calculations to the stinger and sling teams, who adjusted their tensions accordingly and began to fire. Giant stinger spears arced into the air, their powerful warding blasting through even rock demon armour. The sling teams, careful to give no ammunition to the rocks, fired payloads of small warded stones that scattered demons with hundreds of tiny explosions of magic.

They did heavy damage, as did the teams of Mehnding bowmen bolstering the infantry. The alagai screamed, and for a moment, men had the advantage.

But then the rocks began to dig, heedless of the smaller demons they brushed aside. Several of them had large stingers jutting from their armour, but none had been brought down. They were quickly underground, safe from missile fire, even as the stinger and sling teams hurried to reload.

The teams had time to fire again, killing dozens of the smaller demons, but then the first rock reappeared holding a sizable boulder. Arrows fell on it like rain, but seemed to hinder it no more than insect bites as it cocked its arm and threw, blasting the stone through the nearest wardpillar, breaking a portion of the net. Immediately the field demons charged the breach, moving with terrifying speed. The Sharum locked their shields, but were not fully in position to hold the breach. The demons fell on them, tearing and biting as others circled around, some harrying their flanks and yet more escaping unhindered into the night to stalk the unwary. Firespit scattered off shields, starting blazes that quickly grew on their own.

The rock bent, digging again, as several more of its fellows rose with boulders of their own.

Inevera had never seen fighting on such a scale. The Sharum acquitted themselves well, but even she could see the alagai acted with unusual cunning, striking in unexpected places and steadily weakening the wardnet of the outer city, slowly working their way up the hill towards the inner walls. They would not enter, but the demons could easily smash the walls and rain destruction on the city. Fires and collapsing buildings could kill as easily as alagai talons.

Out in the city, the Sharum were fighting for their lives. Rock demons occasionally lobbed stones into clusters of warriors, breaking them apart long enough for the field and flame demons to swarm the openings. Most of the men were armoured, but that meant little against boulders and firespit. Wind demons began to circle in the sky above the wardnet, dropping stones carried in their hind talons. Their aim was less precise than the rocks, but the havoc they created did more damage than the stones themselves.

With the Sharum fighting spear-to-claw, the Mehnding on the wall could not risk firing on the demons harrying them, focusing instead on the rocks. Whenever one appeared with a stone, it was hit with several stingers or a sling of warded stones. A few of the giant demons were killed outright, and more missed their marks entirely.

But one mammoth rock managed to get within range of the city gates, carrying a boulder big enough to shatter them wide. It would not allow demons ingress, but it would kill many warriors guarding the gatehouse, and strike fear into the hearts of men who needed to be brave. Stingers stuck from the demon’s thick carapace, but it moved with focus, hurling its stone.

‘Everam’s beard,’ Asome breathed.

Inevera ignored the comment, reaching into her robe and producing the slender forearm bone she had taken from the mind demon Ahmann had killed. Dipped in electrum, it shone bright with power to her wardsight. She pointed the item at the stone, her fingers skilfully manipulating the wards etched at the gripping end. She uncovered heat and impact wards, sending the power hurtling at the stone.

The spell looked like a greenland firefly as it flew to its target, but when it struck, there was an explosion that lit the night and heated the faces of the observers, smashing the stone into a cloud of dust.

Amazed eyes turned to Inevera as she next pointed her hora wand at the rock demon itself. Again a sizzling speck of light that exploded on impact, throwing down the demon and driving the stingers already embedded in its armour through to the more vulnerable flesh beneath. It landed on its back, chest smoking, and did not rise.

‘Mother …’ Asome began, but his words trailed off as he stared at her. Inevera smiled. It was good to remind her ambitious son that she commanded power he should fear. Ashia and the Mehnding looked no less awestruck, and that, too, was well.

Out on the field, warriors took heart at the display, redoubling their efforts to contain the demons even as reinforcements came.

But there was reaction from the alagai as well. A flight of wind demons dived out of the sky, heading directly for Inevera, each carrying a heavy stone in its talons. Ashia had her bow in hand and plucked one from the sky like a fattened goose. The Mehnding bowmen took down others, but not before a number of stones hurtled their way. Inevera felt herself grabbed and thrown to the rampart as one of the battlements exploded right next to her. Rubble fell like rain, but Asome remained atop her, taking the brunt of the impact.

When it was over, half his face was covered in blood, and she could see his arm was broken, twisted at an impossible angle. She reached out for him, but her son rose smoothly to his feet. He took the wrist of his broken arm in his good hand, pulling the limb straight and letting it hang loosely at his side. The pain was no doubt incredible, but Asome kept control, showing no sign of it as he reached down to her, offering his good hand to help her to her feet. ‘It is nothing that cannot wait, Mother.’ He thrust his chin out beyond the wall. ‘You have greater concerns.’

Inevera accepted the hand, but put no weight on it as she sprang to her feet. She looked out in the direction her son had indicated, eyes widening. Fighting was fierce in the outer city, and fiercer still beyond the outer wall, but it was all a distraction.

From her vantage, Inevera could see what Ahmann could not, though even she had been so occupied by the battle she might have missed it until it was too late. Out in the teeming wheat beyond the city, flame demons were burning with precision, forming wards the size of entire fields. Soon the symbols would activate, giving the alagai a terrifying advantage.

Asome saw it, too. ‘They are truly the agents of Nie, stealing our ability to feed our people and using it to power their dark magics. We have no choice but to burn the rest of the fields to destroy the wardnet.’

‘Perhaps,’ Inevera said, remembering her prophecy. She looked to Ashia. ‘Your uncle must hear of this.’

The kai’Sharum’ting did not hesitate, leaping from the wall and redirecting the impact of her landing into a tight roll that threw her right back onto her feet. She sprinted down the hill into the outer city, quickly disappearing into the darkness.

Asome looked at her. ‘Bad enough you defy the Deliverer by bringing her out onto the wall, but now you send my jiwah out into the naked night? If the alagai don’t get her, surely Father will kill her for her disobedience.’

‘What do you care?’ Inevera asked. ‘If she dies in the night or is killed for her disobedience, your problems are solved, are they not?’

‘I asked for divorce, not her death,’ Asome said.

‘You will get neither, my son,’ Inevera said. ‘No demon will touch her, and you do not know your father as well as you think. His first duty is to Sharak Ka. Ashia’s information may mean the difference between victory and defeat. He will thank her for her service and forget it until Waning is past, and then offer her a token reprimand, followed by a public honouring. No longer will Sharum’ting be confined to the Undercity on Wanings.’

‘Your goal all along,’ Asome said. There was no bitterness in his tone, but she sensed it nevertheless.

‘What is more important to you,’ Inevera asked, ‘winning Sharak Ka, or keeping your wife beneath your sandal? The heroism of your jiwah can boost your power, if you let it. I know you do not feel for her as you do Asukaji, but she is the sister of your lover, the mother of your son, and you made oaths to her before Everam. Those ties bind an honest man as tightly as love.’

Asome looked ready to argue the words, but then deflated, considering. Inevera reached out, touching his good arm. ‘A great man does not fear his wife will steal his glory, Asome. He uses her support to reach even higher.’