Selassei felt sweat and blood drip down her body. She was drained, locked in her struggle to keep Letimpra occupied. She lent a thought to a gust of cool air, but, countered by the evil beast she faced, she received a hot wind.
You know you can't win, Letimpra: those prophecies are already coming true!
she shouted, knocking her black-hearted nemesis down and quickly slipping away from the World, back to a place she had not visited in lifetimes. She knew that she would be followed.
Air rushed back around her and back into her lungs as she emerged from the rent she had made. That book was still on the desk, the runes on its pages still glowing. The empress passed through the wooden door quickly, grabbed for a cloak out of habit but chose not to take it, and slipped out into the night.
Back to this wretched place?
she heard.
Yes, Letimpra. Back here.
None of it is real, you know. This is only an echo world, and while you run to hide here, your prophet mouse will die. He is about to use the weapon you gave him, and you can foresee it as well as I can. He will die at my hand, and there is nothing you can do.
Letimpra did not follow her, instead choosing to seek out Litam. Selassei ignored her fear for the mouse as she ducked into the forest, cutting a hole in the ether below a trunk. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the tree and fell into the portal. She sealed it behind her.
The empress was immediately plunged into darkness. She had been expecting this, and she created a light around her. Again, what she saw was no surprise. A dank, dark and dingy stone hallway, centuries-old cobwebs strung from the ceiling, something somewhere dripping and echoing in the distance.
Already, she knew that her original plan would not work and she didn't have much time to think this one through. If this idea turned out to be a waste of time, Letimpra would either find her or find Litam. Neither possibility appealed to her. Selassei sprinted down the corridor, searching.
The call went out among the forward ranks that clouds were visible in the distance: sullen, black clouds, the sign of Kveilaz's dark army approaching.
Dés eqinastisz ij dés soldatisz, gwénceźe ya!
shouted Aaruden, and the thunder of artillery cannons began behind him, great streamers of blue-purple light—the mark of the strongest guns—arcing over the army and into the distance. Flashes appeared in the distance, illuminating the rolling clouds like lightning. With each light, Litam squeezed his ormuff's reigns a little harder.
The artillery's barrage was continuous, intending to destroy the enemy's own artillery rather than kill soldiers. That goal would be better reached by beasts at arms than by guns at a distance.
The Army of the Damned was coming ever closer to them, tearing across the plains at a frightening pace. Trumpets blared, and the battle began.
At the last moment, ten flocks of great bird warriors called avies had joined them to fight Kveilaz. They cawed as one and flapped their great wings as they launched into the air, swooping toward the saurians. They picked them off ten at a time in their wide claws, and arrows claimed many of their bravest.
Selassei's soldiers charged forth, and they too fell. By the hundreds, soon by the thousands, saurians, avies and beasts fell. Here, a beast was skewered on his own blade by a saurian; there, another's eyes were burned by the juices of his own stomach. The saurians were barbaric in their assault, and it gave them that much of an advantage.
Litam could smell dung and piss and vomit and entrails, he could smell fear and bloodlust. The screams of the dying echoed in his mind. The moans of beasts whose bodies had literally burst open, whose blood had been spilled like river water, beasts who were welcoming death, pleading for it. Litam looked to Aaruden, then to Briole. They seemed unaffected.
In spots, the ground crumbled as tunneling serpents came up under the battle. Both beast and saurian fell in, and all of them were torn to pieces by the bloodthirsty snakes.
Slowly, the battle began to turn in favour of the beasts, though they continued to suffer greatly. Aaruden's soldiers began to gain footing, and cheered each other on as they pushed into the Army of the Damned.
The saurians retreated several hundred yards, regrouping, then began to chant rhythmically: Kfilass, faliniga jiq! Wibpore tow wibalsma poiq!
Those beasts who spoke the old tongue pulled back in fear, understanding what the words meant. All fighting ceased as the Dark Army's black shroud rolled and spun, an eye forming within the clouds. A beast—and Litam immediately knew it was Kveilaz, come to aid his army upon request—descended through this gap, his paws raised above him as if carrying something over his head.
But Teszéntaptúng, the Army of Tsesanne, was prepared. Beyond the heads of more than a thousand beasts, Litam clearly heard Koshos' voice: she was singing a slow, ancient song and her music echoed in Litam's mind. The words held no meaning for him, being in a language even older than the old tongue, but they had an effect upon Kveilaz. The Higher Beast, the one of a very few beasts with near-endless strengths and abilities, stopped in the air, curling up tightly in a ball. Then he unfurled again, calling out his own incantation in the same ancient language.
Koshos' voice grew weak, and it briefly stopped altogether. But she was strong and resisted, and finally Kveilaz vanished in a burst of light, leaving his army without aid.
The beasts cheered and attacked again.
The battle continued to rage for hours if not for days; Litam did not fight, having no weapon he could use. He kept close to his friends and let them protect him, for he would need to fight soon.
The horn rang out, twice. A pause, then a third blow. The fourth was cut short. Litam kicked his ormuff and began to flee; he didn't care if anyone around him came with. He needed to get out of there.
He rode until he found himself in the wrecked skeleton of a village. Buildings were crumpled like parchment around him. He slowed his ormuff down, dismounted, and looked around.
Is anyone there?
he squeaked quietly. There was a scrabbling behind him, and a wilde rat ran across the cobblestone path.
Anyone?
Litam! Thank Shalyon, I thought you'd been captured!
Litam spun around and saw Briole there, his ormuff whinnying tiredly, his armour covered in a red sheen. The mouse ran toward his friend and hugged him as soon as he was off his mount, nearly collapsing as he broke down crying.
I heard the alarm go out and I ran. I ran away, I was so afraid. I thought they were going to kill me,
he confessed.
It's alright, Litam, we won the battle,
said the squirrel, smiling sadly. The alarm was put out because the enemy was retreating, and we wanted to get out of there quickly. Kveilaz's army went to pieces and we're going to get through this.
Litam nodded and stood up, still shaking. Then he saw the blood. Oh my… Briole, you're cut.
Most of this isn't mine, and that which is doesn't hurt. I'll be alright,
Briole said, waving it off.
His ears pricked, as did Litam's, and his tail went rigid. There's someone else here.
I heard it too,
the mouse quietly agreed, reaching for his sword. He heard it again, directly behind him, and he pulled on the blade.
No, Litam, you mustn't use it!
Briole began, but it was too late. Litam swung around and struck at the saurian behind him. It collapsed to the ground as Litam's sword collapsed to dust. Ichor welled up from a long, deep wound, and that's when Litam saw its face; her face; Lanyur's face.
Scarred, deformed, warped into the face of a monitor, but still Lanyur's. Litam felt weak.
I… I got away… I tried to get here as soon as…
she said, coughing up black bile between words. Her face contorted in pain, eyes rolling back in her head as her body tried desperately to heal the gash. She relaxed again, the pain fading away to be replaced by a blessed numbness.
Briole had seen her face, and he could not let himself watch from afar. He forced Litam out of the way and pulling the once-mouse's scaly, mangled body into his arms. She smiled weakly as her eyes focused intently on his face.
Simple,
the little mouse said quietly.
Briole kissed her forehead. You'll be fine. I'm going to stay by you and make sure of it,
he reassured her, smiling back sadly.
Then she closed her eyes and reached for his paw. But before she could find it she cringed, exhaled slowly, and went limp.
Briole cried.
© 2004–2008 Jonathan Grynspan. All rights reserved. Cover art by Silvie Lišková. Prices are in United States dollars and do not include shipping and handling fees, taxes, or duties. XHTML 1.0 Strict.