the roar of flame and terror, I could hear Malver muttering. “Holy goddess mother protect us ... holy goddess ... holy mother ...”
Leonid, his sure vengeance cast suddenly into doubt, shook off his astonishment, bellowed at his warriors, and attacked Sovari. While Malver worked to free Aleksander, I touched earth and distracted Dovat with a slash to his legs. From behind me Malver’s steady stream of invocations was replaced by a steady stream of curses, along with a harsh command. “Get me on my feet and get out of the way.” Pain twisted the Prince’s voice almost beyond recognition. “I will not die groveling.”
“Get him on a horse,” I yelled over my shoulder. “Throw him over the saddle if nothing else. By the count of twenty.” My wall of fire would not last much longer. I could feel the melydda draining from me, the pain in my right side was threatening to tear me apart, and the most difficult part of the enchantment was yet to come. I disarmed the stubborn Dovat, and he slumped to the hard earth as if his sword had been the only thing holding him upright.
From behind me came an agonized groan, followed by a rasping curse. “Damn your eyes, I said on my feet.”
“I’ve got him up,” cried Malver.
In a way it was much easier that Aleksander was wounded. I had no time to argue with him. “Malver, follow me. Sovari, stay close and guard his back.” I took a breath, countered two slashes, and summoned the wind.
It had been waiting on the horizon at the boundary of the dune seas a league away, a roiling monstrosity of such power as could flay a man. At first, in the sudden void left by the dying of the silver flames, it sounded only like the lowest note of a droning mellanghar, a quiet rumble felt deep in the belly. But in moments it devoured the western sky, and the rumble became deafening thunder, shaking the ground beneath my feet.
“Paraivo!” Five hundred voices cried at once, and, as the first stinging sand whipped across my face, the field erupted into madness.
We had to move quickly. Holding such an enchantment more than a brief time would leave me a dried-out husk. I had thought to carry Aleksander away in my arms, but I could not abandon his two valiant defenders. They would not survive Leonid’s rage long enough for Kiril to claim them when he bargained for surrender terms as I had asked him to do. Enough men had died that day. And so, with my wings spread wide to create a sheltered breathing space for those who followed, I forged a way through the raging wind.
The sand cut through cloth and flesh like slivers of glass, and threatened quick suffocation. My garments were soon in shreds, scarcely enough of my haffai scarf left to wrap around my nose and mouth. My watering eyes were narrowed to slits, and what scraps of melydda I could spare were dedicated to protecting them. I had planned to head southwest, as that would get us through the bulk of the storm soonest and keep the scouring sand between us and the Hamraschi, but I quickly forgot such details in my struggle to keep breathing and to move in any direction at all. Gods of night and day, could you not have come up with a better idea? I berated myself as the wind blasted through a small hole in one wing, leaving an excruciating tear. Though truly, how many things did I know to distract two armies? On further consideration, I decided I’d done well enough.
It seemed only moments until I reached the limits of my endurance. My lungs were on fire, my wings about to rip from my screaming shoulders. Red lightning threatened to crack my skull from the inside as I fought to push through the wind and hold my working together. All we needed was distance. Every mezzit was precious. A few more sweeps of the wings. A few more thrusts into the wind. A few more steps for the racing beasts behind me. At first I had been able to glimpse the dark outlines of panicked men and horses on the peripheries of my vision, but either the whirling
Leonid, his sure vengeance cast suddenly into doubt, shook off his astonishment, bellowed at his warriors, and attacked Sovari. While Malver worked to free Aleksander, I touched earth and distracted Dovat with a slash to his legs. From behind me Malver’s steady stream of invocations was replaced by a steady stream of curses, along with a harsh command. “Get me on my feet and get out of the way.” Pain twisted the Prince’s voice almost beyond recognition. “I will not die groveling.”
“Get him on a horse,” I yelled over my shoulder. “Throw him over the saddle if nothing else. By the count of twenty.” My wall of fire would not last much longer. I could feel the melydda draining from me, the pain in my right side was threatening to tear me apart, and the most difficult part of the enchantment was yet to come. I disarmed the stubborn Dovat, and he slumped to the hard earth as if his sword had been the only thing holding him upright.
From behind me came an agonized groan, followed by a rasping curse. “Damn your eyes, I said on my feet.”
“I’ve got him up,” cried Malver.
In a way it was much easier that Aleksander was wounded. I had no time to argue with him. “Malver, follow me. Sovari, stay close and guard his back.” I took a breath, countered two slashes, and summoned the wind.
It had been waiting on the horizon at the boundary of the dune seas a league away, a roiling monstrosity of such power as could flay a man. At first, in the sudden void left by the dying of the silver flames, it sounded only like the lowest note of a droning mellanghar, a quiet rumble felt deep in the belly. But in moments it devoured the western sky, and the rumble became deafening thunder, shaking the ground beneath my feet.
“Paraivo!” Five hundred voices cried at once, and, as the first stinging sand whipped across my face, the field erupted into madness.
We had to move quickly. Holding such an enchantment more than a brief time would leave me a dried-out husk. I had thought to carry Aleksander away in my arms, but I could not abandon his two valiant defenders. They would not survive Leonid’s rage long enough for Kiril to claim them when he bargained for surrender terms as I had asked him to do. Enough men had died that day. And so, with my wings spread wide to create a sheltered breathing space for those who followed, I forged a way through the raging wind.
The sand cut through cloth and flesh like slivers of glass, and threatened quick suffocation. My garments were soon in shreds, scarcely enough of my haffai scarf left to wrap around my nose and mouth. My watering eyes were narrowed to slits, and what scraps of melydda I could spare were dedicated to protecting them. I had planned to head southwest, as that would get us through the bulk of the storm soonest and keep the scouring sand between us and the Hamraschi, but I quickly forgot such details in my struggle to keep breathing and to move in any direction at all. Gods of night and day, could you not have come up with a better idea? I berated myself as the wind blasted through a small hole in one wing, leaving an excruciating tear. Though truly, how many things did I know to distract two armies? On further consideration, I decided I’d done well enough.
It seemed only moments until I reached the limits of my endurance. My lungs were on fire, my wings about to rip from my screaming shoulders. Red lightning threatened to crack my skull from the inside as I fought to push through the wind and hold my working together. All we needed was distance. Every mezzit was precious. A few more sweeps of the wings. A few more thrusts into the wind. A few more steps for the racing beasts behind me. At first I had been able to glimpse the dark outlines of panicked men and horses on the peripheries of my vision, but either the whirling
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