The snowflake was the first of its fellows to fall down towards the earth. As it passed the endless ranks of horsemen that had encircled the city, an undercurrent tossed it back up again, but its reprisal was short-lived, for it came back down again, and settled on the nose of a dark-skinned warrior.
The warrior brushed the snowflake away from his nose irritably. He rubbed at the thin, perfectly groomed beard on his chin and frowned. His skin was as smooth as a young man's, yet his bearing was regal and his eyes were dark. The man's hair was very long, past his shoulders, and was tied back with a golden clasp. He wore a gold earring set with amber in his left ear, and around his neck was a chain with a curved turquoise triangle.
"Tell the tarn leaders we attack with the dawn," the dark-skinned man said. His eyes blazed as he regarded the huge city below, and anyone who knew him very well would have said he was fearful.
There was only one man present who knew him to that degree, yet he was a man who would never challenge his leader.
"Yes, my prince," Jehral said.
There were two others present, a warrior in loose clothing of green silk, decorated with arcane symbols, and a woman in a rustred robe with a white cord tied around her waist. The woman in red stood close to the warrior in green, and when he stepped forward she tried to hold him back, but he pushed her away angrily.
"This is madness," Bartolo said. "This isn't Torlac. It isn't even Tlaxor. This is Seranthia. You remember what happened the last time you attacked a fortified city with no siege weapons, don't you? You'll be sending your men to their deaths."
Prince Ilathor turned to the bladesinger. "Watch your tongue, bladesinger, else I have it removed." He waved to the hills around him. There were so many horsemen that they stretched in an unbroken line in either direction, as far as the eye could see. "There are plenty of men here who would be honoured to do the task for me."
"I'd like to see you try," Bartolo growled. He placed his hand on his zenblade.
Shani and Jehral both opened their mouths, but it was a newcomer's voice that rang out.
"Your Highness, a message." It was a courier.
"Give it to me," Prince Ilathor said. He swiftly broke the seal and scanned the contents of the scroll. He levelled his gaze on Bartolo triumphantly. "Your people are encountering fierce resistance in the west. You may go to them, if you wish, bladesinger."
"No!" Bartolo cried angrily. "Do you think I would be anywhere but here? I want to see this finished as much as you do."
"Yet it will be I who ends it," Prince Ilathor said. "I will hang this Primate from the walls before us, and I will not stop until this evil is scourged from the land."
"Many of the people in Seranthia are victims as much as my people were," Shani said. "Please, Prince Ilathor, extend these people the same mercy you gave Petrya."
"No," the prince said. Even Jehral's eyebrows rose. "I must not show weakness to this enemy, who uses the dead to kill the living, and kills the living to bring the dead to life. I have been weak, and now I must be strong. Jehral!"
"Yes, my prince?"
"I gave you an order. Tell the tarn leaders. We attack with the dawn."
~
STORM clouds gathered over Seranthia before the sun had fully set, plunging the city into darkness. Yet these storm clouds produced no rain, and as sheets of light flashed from one cloud and then another, no thunder could be heard. Forks of lightning plunged down to strike the earth, yet caused no destruction. The sky grew ever darker, and the ordinary citizens of Seranthia locked their doors, held their children close, and prayed to the Evermen for deliverance.
Some brave ones climbed up to the top of the Wall and came back down white-faced, reporting what they had seen with voices that shook. Clouds were moving against the direction of the wind. Ghostly figures could be seen riding about the hills, and dust storms billowed up and then vanished again just as quickly as they had appeared.
The Akari were bad enough; what could the denizens of Seranthia expect from the ruthless warriors of Raj Hazara? What were these creatures they rode? The drunks and children told tales of the barbarians who hated the idea of walls, or any kind of structure at all for that matter, and travelled the world tearing down any sign of civilisation they found, slaying all they came across. The learned men knew in their hearts the darkness that lived within the core of Tingara, and the evil that had been done in the Tingaran Empire's name. Any conqueror of Seranthia would have a score to settle.
The fear was the great leveller. It could be felt throughout the market houses in the financial centre, in the docks and taverns, and in the Imperial Palace itself. The rough men of the streetclans armed themselves, and the ships of the imperial fleet took stations outside the harbour, ready to face any attack from the sea. The city's landward gates had been closed long ago.
Seeking solace, many of Seranthia's residents headed for the Imperial Palace. There were so many of them that the Grand Boulevard became choked with their numbers. They knew the Primate was in residence. Why didn't he speak?