Storm and Steel by Jon Sprunk Page B

bright helms. Chariots performed maneuvers across hard-packed drilling grounds. This, then, must be the army of three kings.
    He placed one hand on the deck's broad railing as the ground slowly rose up to meet them. Taking off in this flying contraption had been bad enough, but he liked descending even worse. A man his age shouldn't be taxing his heart with such things.
    The barge landed on the river. Its wide hull churned up the sluggish waters as the great vessel slowed. Abdiel let go of the railing just as the rest of their party emerged from their accommodations below. Eleven brothers of the Crimson Flame, each of them a little green around the ears. Their long robes fluttered in the breeze like the wings of great red birds, and Abdiel forgave them for their lapse of fortitude. For these birds were fierce predators, the most powerful and loyal sorcerers of the Order, hand-selected by the Primarch to accompany his master on this vital mission. Abdiel had been present during his master's audience with His Grand Luminance the night before they departed the capital.
    â€œYou must not fail in this matter, my son,” the Primarch had said from the raised chair in the High Council's chamber. The tattoos on his bare scalp gleamed like red gold in the light of a hundred lamps. Abdiel had sighed with reverence to see them with his own eyes.
    â€œI understand, Great Father,” Mebishnu replied, his voice strong and confident. “I pledge my life to this task.”
    â€œFailure would mean not merely the loss of a single city to the growing darkness, but perhaps the entire empire. The queen of Erugash must be punished for her wickedness, and that punishment must come by our hand, my son. You understand that. And that same hand must eradicate the foreign devil in her bosom. That is the cancer you must cut away.”
    The Primarch had rubbed his forehead with both hands as if trying to scrub away a stubborn stain, and Abdiel had felt such sweet sorrow at the gesture. So beauteous, yet so human. “If we lose Erugash, then we are open to attack from the foreign invaders. Just as our forebears conquered the tribes who had settled these lands before us, the invaders will gobble up the empire one town at a time.”
    â€œAmur—his name be praised,” Mebishnu said, “would never allow that to happen, Great Father.”
    â€œNo? Think not that we are a special race, my son. The Sun Lord is eternal. Should we fall, He would shine His blessed glory on another people. The destiny of our race rests in your hands. I can trust no one else with this matter.”
    â€œI will not fail, Great Father.”
    Abdiel had taken one last glimpse of the Primarch as they were ushered out of His divine presence. It had been the second-greatest day of his life, outshined only by the birth of his master. And as they were taken away, he'd been struck by the realization that those two miraculous events—the birth and the audience—might alter the course of history.
    As Mebishnu returned the genuflections of his brethren with a solemn nod, the barge drifted gently against the shore. Sailors scurried about at their duties. Abdiel waited as they set up the wooden bridge to the shore and made sure he was the first one off the vessel. He almost wept as his feet touched down on solid ground again. The flying barges were a wonderful innovation, much faster than traveling by water or caravan, yet one could not rest easily when soaring thousands of feet above the earth. He shaded his eyes and looked up at the sun, just a few fingerbreadths from high noon. Yet, we were closer to you, Holy Lord, when we rode upon the winds beneath Your radiant light.
    He turned as his master came down the bridge, speaking again to the ship's captain. “Your orders are to remain here until further notice.”
    â€œOf course, Your Eminence. Would you like an escort?”
    â€œNo, Captain. Just make sure the ship is ready to fly at any