A Whisper of Wings (67 page)

“
My words shall never fade as long as you remember them. To you I pass my burden and my joy. I ask that you teach others all that you have learned.”

Kïtashii’s voice caught. The little student wiped her eyes with her hair.

“
Hear then a lesson. Hear the thoughts of Shadarii-Zha, daughter of the Rain.

Long ago I tried to fight for love. I caused death and destruction, and in the end all my suffering was for naught. The Sacred Mother took me above my agony and set me upon the path of teaching. To light my way, she provided me with a single riddle:

Why do we fight?

I believe I have found my answer. We do not often fight for hate. Instead, we fight for love.

In our minds, love excuses even the unthinkable. When I fought, I did it all for love of my Kotaru. The forest people now murder for love of Zhukora. It is love that has led the world into this pain! Love so wild and senseless that it twists the mind. A passion so intense that it becomes a sickness.

To love one thing to the detriment of all others is a terrible thing. Because it is love, we deceive ourselves into thinking that it must be good.

Only wisdom can unmask this self deception; by examining love we can discover whether it is true and good.

This is our task; the sacred mission given us by Mother Rain. Plant wisdom, and there we shall grow true love.”

Kïtashii looked up into Shadarii’s eyes and let the scroll fall slowly to her lap.

“
Remember. Always know that I have loved each and every one of you with all my heart. I shall care for you and be with you as long as wonder shines inside your souls.

Peace be upon you, my loves. Peace and happiness forevermore.”

Shadarii gently placed a heavy book beside the little girl. The Book of offerings: The thoughts and deeds of Shadarii-Zha. The Teacher passed the book to its new keeper and kissed the tears from Kïtashii’s cheeks.

Shadarii looked around the circle and smiled into the pilgrims’ eyes. Beneath the tree, there dwelled a special kind of magic. Friends and laughter, words and wisdom, and a certainty that men could shape their fate with love.

Shadarii looked upon her final dawn and was content.

Chapter Twenty Seven

“Attack wave,
dive!”

ïsha shields tore down across the cave as Keketál’s men burst out of cover and ripped into the savages. A thousand Guardsmen overwhelmed Zhukora’s forward scouts; bodies wove and creatures ducked. Leaves exploded as Keketál dove through the trees. He slashed out with his oita and split a demon’s wing, sending the savage tumbling through a tree to splinter on the ground.

“Onwards! Follow them! KILL!”

The alpine scout teams turned and fled, with the plainsmen following hard behind. They rolled over the skirmishers and crashed full tilt into Zhukora’s vanguard, smashing through the savages in a screaming wave of blood.

Keketál roared and led his Guard through a storm of carnage. Savages fell before them in their hundreds. Bones splintered, armour split; still The Guard hacked onwards as they chased behind the shrieking foe.

The black-bitch’s army instantly deployed. Hunting teams flicked out to flank Keketál’s tiny force, engulfing the Confederation Guards. Savages and Plainsmen fought with merciless fury. The wounded were butchered as they fell, fangs bit and daggers tore while the ïsha raged with untold power.

Deep inside the fight, Keketál snapped out orders to his teams. The decoy charge had been too dangerous to entrust to anybody else. The timing had to be exact; the demons must be driven into fury and then drawn on into the swamps.

Ahead of Keketál the melee swirled in a dense black cloud of shapes. Fantastic costumes boiled through the trees to claw the Guardsmen from the sky. Keketál dodged past a spear, slapped an enemy into a tree and broke its neck. The nobleman grinned as his men smacked into a new wave of demons and drove the creatures back.

The air suddenly lifted up and smashed Keketál aside. A wild shape shot by, insane laughter ripping through the air. The savage held aloft a severed head and screamed with hate, then sucked power from his trophy and hurtled an ïsha bolt. A guardsman fell as the explosion tore his wings to shreds.

Savages raced inverted high above the trees, blasting a path into the Confederation ranks. The headhunters laughed as their magic ripped the living into death. Severed heads stared out at the world, lips moving slowly as they spoke out in their unholy dreams…

Keketál fought for breath, then had his musicians sound out the recall.

“Retreat! Fall back by squadrons! Keep your teams! Keep your teams!”

Keketál drove his men back through the trees, pushing his units on their way before joining the rearguard. The Guardsmen skirmished frantically through the trees, somehow trying to draw the bitch-queen on into the swamps.

The Black Empress herself appeared through the smoke. She glared towards the Guards and raised her fist, blasting power straight at Keketál, who dodged aside as lightning cut down a dozen men. Keketál’s rearguard turned tail and fled, drawing the hordes of rainbow warriors in pursuit.

Sweet Mother Rain! Keketál stared across his shoulder as enemy warriors blackened out sky. An advanced guard of savages flew hot on Keketál’s tail, and he wrenched his men around to make a stand.

Keketál watched a hundred savages raging straight towards his devastated team of twenty men. He tried to straighten up his back and slowly raised his hand.

A musical female voice ripped through the air, and the sky turned black with slingstones. Savages jerked and screamed inside the storm. The enemy sorcerers were driven slowly backwards as the slingers threw up a dense barrage of fire.

“Second squad, cover the wounded! Namïlii, I want those enemy officers dead!”

Harïsh led her shepherds girls forward through the trees. The slingers fired with uncanny accuracy, tumbling savages to the ground. Harïsh fell back and searched through the boughs until she found her husband.

She was right; the girls were the best choice for keeping the enemy in play. A thousand female slingers came boiling through the trees. The enemy vanguard went to ground as the battle raged in earnest. Keketál staggered back, his eyes still fixed upon a plainsman corpse.

“Harïsh, split the skulls of all our dead! Kill the seriously wounded. Don’t let their souls fall into the demons’ hands!”

“I hear! Now go! Go back. I love you!”

Keketál climbed aloft and left his wife to fight. His strategy was working perfectly; the Black-Bitch was coming to his killing ground.

He need only live long enough to direct his victory.

Hours of combat had passed like a heavy dream. The women fired and flew, fired and flew, drawing the enemy onwards into ambush. Each thrust and feint was met in kind as the maidens bought their army’s security with their lives.

Finally the cover thinned. Nothing lay at Harïsh’s back except the open swamps.

Keketál rose up in the grass and watched his wife’s troops retreat. Vast clouds of slingers shot past and dove into the reeds. Harïsh spied Keketál and swooped low overhead.

“They’re coming! They’re all yours!”

The ïsha pulsed and trembled as the enemy drew near. The rumble and the power of it sounded like thunder in the mountains. Keketál deliberately turned his back upon the enemy and greeted his nervous warriors with his fine lop-sided smile.

“Iss time now! Time to be killing savages. We hit them hard and then give ground, then retreat back to mud flats on other side of river. Our hidden troops will then charge in from the flanks. This Demon-queen, we fix her up for good!”

Thirty thousand men were waiting down inside the creek. The Guards and tribal levies ceased listening to the distant enemy as Keketál ambled back and forth across the banks.

“Not’ing to be afraid of. We kill yesterday, and now we shall kill some more. Savages die just like anybody else. Sorcery iss no matter. You shoot a sorcerer before he shoots you, and who iss smarter?”

Someone laughed. Another man grinned. A voice hooted in from the background.

“Half of them are only women! If we can’t beat women then what are we?”

Keketál held up his finger and let his voice carry out across the men. “We got girls too! Real girls! Not some savages from the trees. Girls with smarts!”

There was a roar as Pachetta leapt up and gave a bow. Her tail flipped up to tickle a soldier’s grinning face; the man slapped Pachetta’s rump and gave a roar of joy.

“A soldier’s duty is to guard his leader’s rear!”

The laughter spread, bringing the release that Keketál had prayed for. The fear had broken in a sudden wave of mirth. The warriors rose up to their feet and shook their weapons to the sky. Plainsmen spilled up onto the open ground and chanted as they charged, driving themselves forwards as the rhythm slowly grew. Shepherd girls danced at their head as the army hurtled itself into the sky.

The barbarians’ chant crashed like thunder all across the trees. The Confederation army made an awe inspiring sight; somewhere they had managed to salvage close onto thirty thousand men. Zhukora stood with arms folded, watching in admiration as the enemy came on. Damn but they looked fine! The prey did Zhukora honour. She laughed at their audacity even as she ordered their destruction.

The enemy general pointed his oita at Zhukora’s lines, and a roar swelled as thirty thousand plainsmen shot forwards like a raging tide of death. They foamed and exploded through the trees, speed blurring them into a formless, churning mass.

The army drove up into the air as one, and Daimïru screamed out with the surging joy of combat. The two waves of Kashra hurtled themselves at one another like mighty walls of flesh. They met with a thunderous crash, blasting the swamp to its very roots. Leaves split from the trees while ïsha roared; the air became a boiling mass of shapes as spear and oita battled for the mastery of the sky.

The blue barbarians knew how to die! They fought back tooth and claw, reaping alpine warriors like sheaves of grain. Even so, the power of Zhukora’s warriors was overwhelming. Daimïru shrieked in laughing madness as she hacked at a plainsman’s wings. As her units tired, Zhukora sent more men in from the rear. They surged forwards, ramming the barbarians back across the swamp.

Daimïru howled as she felt the enemy give way before her. A horn blew, sending the plainsmen tumbling back across the water. Daimïru dove through a paltry rain of slingstones to lead her warriors in pursuit. The whole army advanced behind her, catching her foaming rage like a disease. The girl screamed for the glory of it as she hurtled Zhukora’s army into the final kill.

A shudder ran through the alpine ranks as two massive hammer blows fell on either flank. Daimïru ignored it all, lost inside a blood-red haze of lust. The enemies in front of her had turned to fight once more; weird creatures dyed and painted like screaming imps. Daimïru flung herself into the enemy, dragging a barbarian to the ground. Her soldiers followed suit, snarling as the battle compacted into a savage brawl.

“What’s she doing? Can’t she see it? Damn it, why didn’t any of them see it?”

Zhukora raged and screamed in fury. A tree exploded as she lashed out her fists, and her officers ducked, keeping their eyes riveted on the fight.

“Why? Why didn’t she see it?”

“Leader, she is engaged in the melee! Perhaps she…”

The only answer came as another scream of anger, and more trees erupted into flames. The army was being enveloped from the flanks, and still Daimïru’s troops ploughed on into the trap. Slingbullets made the air turn black as the plainsmen reaped revenge.

The little girl danced into the air and shouted for her officers. Formations cracked about her as the Skull-Wings thundered into action. Zhukora watched her smallest warrior go and fumed in irritation, her tail switching as she felt victory teetering in her grasp.

Savages gave ground as the battle slowly turned. The demon’s flanks ground inward, giving the savages no room to fly. Keketál’s tactics began to tell as the savages gave way.

Daimïru ripped both her blades free from a corpse and looked around for prey. She panted wildly, her slim body trembling with need.