The fane took a step forward, cast off his cloak, and with a deep hum and a wave of his arm, the fane sent forth a blast of fire that coursed across the sky, striking the beast in the chest. The flames did nothing, and the monster appeared to swim through the blaze. Then, as if given the idea, the dragon opened its mouth and replied in kind. A blast of fire shot from its mouth at the hill.
Instantly, the flame wall marching toward the Gula vanished when the Miralyith abandoned it in exchange for protection. A defense screen was one of the first things a Miralyith learned. The crossed arms and buzzing sound became as much a reflex as throwing out one’s hands in a fall. Mawyndul? put up his own shield; so did his father, and Synne threw up a defense over the fane, but the Spiders, by virtue of their training, reacted differently. They combined their efforts, creating a small dome that capped the hilltop. In doing so, they saved the lives of those few servants lucky enough to be standing close by, including Treya, Taraneh, and his twelve Lions. Everything on the command hill was scorched black, including a dozen tents, a cask of wine, travel packs, linens, tables, torch stands, five soldiers, and two dozen servants who didn’t have the time to scream.
When the fire was exhausted, Mawyndul? looked up and saw the dragon was huge, the size of a building—a big building.
“Knock it down!” the fane ordered. “Blow it away! Use the wind. Only wind!”
Onya nodded and the Spiders reconvened their weaving.
“Just channel the natural air, like when combating the Orinfar,” his father continued to explain.
The light breeze wafting across the hilltop died. Smoke that had been blowing away hung in the stagnant air as all around them grass continued to smolder. Overhead, a monster, so big it blocked out most of the sky, folded its wings, extended claws the size of swords, and dove.
“Now!” the fane shouted.
A massive roar came from everywhere as an incredible blast of wind hit the beast and set it spinning away. The dragon became a leaf in a hurricane.
Did it work?
Mawyndul? was too scared to be obstinate, too relieved to be vindictive. “Yes, the wind threw it back.”
In that brief gap, in that moment left open for taking a breath, Mawyndul? heard the clash of battle. Everyone had forgotten the Gula. With the firewall gone, the horde ran at the Shahdi with a new fury. They shouted and yelled so that their joined voices created a roar similar to the howl of wind the Spiders had harnessed. They charged across the scorched and smoking field and slammed into the remainder of the fane’s army. The blue-and-gold warriors were immediately swamped by a sea of Rhunes. There would be no possibility of erecting a new firewall without killing their own soldiers. This wasn’t much of a problem; the real concern was the dragon. With the first wind expelled, the Spiders drew another breath. The beast wasted no time flying back toward them.
“Drive it down this time,” the fane said. “Slam the dragon to the ground. Crush it.”
The beast was fast and only a few hundred yards away when the Spiders struck it from above this time. The dragon hit the ground so hard it bounced and left a long scar in the field, but the fall didn’t kill it, didn’t faze it, and a moment later the monster was up, this time running toward them.
“Blow it back! Blow it back!” the fane shouted.
The beast was too close. The Spiders couldn’t recover in time.
Mawyndul? felt a sudden surge.
Help him! The Spiders are out of power! Help your father!
Mawyndul? didn’t have much experience with wind, but it wasn’t too difficult, not with the force of Avempartha fueling him. He could have been way off, casting the most inefficient of weaves—which he was certain was the case—and yet the sheer force was capable of sending the beast hurtling backward once more.
Heads turned to look his way, but no one wasted the time to make a comment.
Instead, Onya faced the fane shaking her head. “My fane, we can’t kill it.”
Taraneh, who up until then had remained silent, turned to Lothian. “My fane, the battle is lost. You must retreat.” The leader of the fane’s guard waved to the groom to bring horses.
His father exploded. “No! Not again! Not when we are so close.”
“My fane,” Synne said, and Mawyndul? thought it might have been the first time he’d heard her. “The Shahdi are engulfed by Rhunes, and that beast can’t be stopped. You and your son must flee.”
“This is my whole army!” his father shouted.
“And they will die so that you can live.”
Mawyndul? couldn’t help noticing that the dragon was coming back. Once more it had taken flight.
“Mawyndul?,” Synne spoke directly to him. “Can you blow it to the ground?”
Say yes.
“Yes.”
“Good, do that.” Synne faced the fane. “I have an idea that might buy us—might buy you—some time.”
She meant for his father to escape. Mawyndul? couldn’t help but hope he was included in that you.
The beast came at them faster this time, more determined than ever.
“Do what she says,” his father told him.