* * *
Shimmer could not believe the punishment these Untan irregulars were inflicting on her lines. They were like biting flies – or hornets – and her forces the blundering bhederin attempting to swat them. Something had to be done; how much longer must her men and women hold the line – no more than obliging targets?
Brethren! She called within her thoughts to her fallen brother and sister Avowed. Speak with Skinner. We must advance! Sweep the field of this threat! We cannot delay any longer.
Your concerns shall be conveyed, came the distant response.
Concerns? Her tactical judgment no more than a concern? Was she not second in command?
Skinner warns you to put aside your panic. These pests shall be dealt with in good time.
Panic! Panic! She took hold of the grip of her long whips word. Who did he think he was? She almost set out from her flank commander position to confront the man, but refrained knowing she could not abandon her post. Damn him! Well, she would act, even if he wouldn't! Brethren! Orders for Smoky, Twisty and Shell: you are given leave to punish those skirmishers – and keep moving!
Orders shall be conveyed.
Damn right they will be conveyed. Skinner may have no regard for the third investiture common soldiers of the lines – but she was going to do everything she could to protect the men and women of her command!
Orders acknowledged.
Good. Now those pests will be made leery of approaching her flank!
Moments later a great sheet of flame arose across the intervening field and began sweeping north. Distant figures writhed, caught in the sudden eruption. The great mass of skirmishers recoiled, fleeing. The wedge of fire broadened, swelling, a runaway grass fire threatening to engulf the entire field. Then, just as suddenly, the flames were snuffed, as they had been before. Who in the Queen's Mysteries was that mage? The irregulars crept forward once more, began targeting her lines where her soldiers hunched behind shields. Damn, they're brave bastards! Sudden wails of surprise and alarm – the barrage stuttering, thinning. Twisty and Shell at work. Less showy than Smoky but just as effective. She could imagine Twisty ruining their weapons, Shell softening the ground beneath their feet. Enough to send them running.
Something flashed across her vision then. Men and women of her bodyguard fell, one clutching at a bolt in her neck, another in his chest. Cold iron punched into Shimmer's back and she spun, pinned the attacker's arm and struck, crushing the man's throat. Claws! Two full Hands! Another crouching figure aimed and she ducked; a bolt sang overhead. She leapt, rolling to take the woman down, clasped her head and twisted, breaking the neck. She stood, drawing long-knives from her belt and something struck her, a wave of pressure that when it passed left her surroundings darkened, quiet. Suddenly it was dusk, the sky colourless. The field remained but now stretched empty. Shadow! She spun, found what she searched for: the mage some distance off. Ignoring the pain of the thrust in her back, she made for him.
Shadows closed, coalesced before her. She pushed through. Something clutched her throat, cutting off her breath. She felt at her neck but found nothing. Shadows throttling her! How to … She fought to breathe but nothing came. Her lungs charred. Her chest tightened in a rising frenzied panic. But still through the blurring haze she saw him, the Claw mage, and she made for him. Amazingly the man did not move; he watched her advance with disbelief in eyes that widened and widened as she closed. The shadows tightened like a hangman's noose. She felt her pulse throbbing, clenched off.
‘No … impossible …’ the man breathed, astounded.
A more thorough briefing may have been required regarding the Avowed, Shimmer reflected as she swung, slitting his throat in one slash, then she fell, her vision blackening.
Brethren! I join you …