Other voices cried out below, and a maddening pandemonium came over the soldiers. If there was room to run, many would have, but instead a thousand cries and pleas for help resounded through the valley. Amongst the discord, Commander Plackart’s booming voice rose out, as stern and fearless as ever before.
“To arms!” he cried. “Marksmen, take aim!”
Immediately, the archers and crossbowmen all around Fionn raised their weapons, pointing up at the black mass overhead. The tiny details that made up the flock was visible now, and they were indeed crows. Thousands of them, like insects swarming the mountains.
“Fire!” called the commander, and a hundred arrows and bolts were loosed upon the crows. The swarm did not slow.
Fionn clicked his flint-rings together and tugged at the power of his soul. In a fraction of a second, his hands were alight. He raised both fists upwards, and a pillar of flames rose up to meet the crows. This time, the birds shrieked as they burned, and charred corpses littered the valley before them.
It’s working, thought Fionn, gritting his teeth and adding more to his fire. But I can’t hold them off forever.
Indeed, even as hundreds of their brethren fell, more and more crows poured down through the valley. The sky was alight with fire, but the new arrivals quickly outnumbered the dead.
“I can’t hold them on my own!” Fionn cried. But the other marksmen had not stopped firing when the order was given, and their weapons remained useless against the horde.
The crows were right overhead now. Some individual birds broke away from the flock and descended upon the marksmen on the wall like arrows of their own. The men roared as they fell, but the cries of the crows covered their death-rattles. Above, more began to break away from the rest, and a harrowing sense of fear tore through Fionn’s body.
It’s over. It’s over before it even began.
In a blinding flash of light, a tower of sapphire flames erupted from before the wall, consuming the crows overhead. These fires quickly outshone Fionn’s own, and soon, the whole valley shimmered blue.
Gods, thought Fionn, looking up at the cobalt inferno. What is this?
By instinct, he reached out to control the fire himself, but it eluded his grasp. A familiar feeling came over him, like this has happened before….
Beggar’s flames. Farris made them from thainol, back in the Glenn.
He sprinted to the edge of the gate to peer down at the source of the flames. The wall of fire flames stopped at the three strange steel statues from before, but now they were looking upward, the fires erupting from their arms.
“What sort of Simian… magic is this?” said Aislinn, shaking her head in awe.
“Reapers,” Fionn muttered. “This is what the Silverback was talking about before.”
The blue flames extinguished suddenly, and the burnt bodies of a thousand crows fell from the sky. Cheers rose from the soldiers below.
“I better join the infantry,” said Aislinn. “Stay safe up here, you hear me?”
“Sure,” said Fionn, his attention still drawn to the three Reapers on the ground. Though I’d rather just stay near those….
Cries and shouts rose up from the men behind Fionn, some calling for supplies, others calling for help. A few had even begun singing war songs, as if victory were already at hand. But Fionn didn’t turn.
The valley floor before him was littered charred bones and burnt carcasses of birds, but something else stirred the corner of Fionn’s vision. There, in the distance, another cloud was rising from down the valley. But this one came from the ground, like dust kicked up by a thousand marching soldiers.
“They’re coming,” Fionn stammered, taking an involuntary step backwards. “The rest of them are coming.”
Chapter 27:
The Basilica
““As long as I am alive and breathing, as long as I am willing to fight, as long as my choices are mine and mine alone, there will always be hope.”
King Diarmuid, Third of his Name, Nineteenth Incarnate, AC403.
***
Farris balled his hand into a fist, gritting his teeth as nails dug into skin. Hundreds of pounds of pressure seemed to be building up in his skull. He narrowed his eyes and swore under his breath. As useless as he felt before, working by the side of the Silverback, now, imprisoned in the bowels of the Penance Basilica, his worthlessness was even clearer.
He leaned his head against the cold stone wall behind him. This is where I belong. I’m a criminal, not a politician.
The cell was large enough to accommodate two prisoners, but Farris was fortunate that he was alone. He sat on a bench of rotted wood, which doubled as a bed, although he hadn’t slept since being arrested the previous day.
Or was it two days ago? Farris thought. With no windows or natural light, it was difficult to tell.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, coming closer with each step. Farris stood to attention, like he always had whenever the guard approached on his regular patrol.
I won’t let them see me defeated. I won’t let them know they’ve gotten to me.
A Simian of the Churchguard eventually came into view, his brilliant red robes a startling contrast against the dank darkness of the prison cells. He didn’t turn to look at the other prisoners as he passed, and when he was gone, Farris found his gaze land on the cell opposite his. It held a massive Human prisoner. As large as a Simian, a rigid scowl adorned his face, and faded tattoos encircled his eyes.
“What are you looking at, rat?” he growled, leaning forward against the bars, as if to give Farris a full view of his muscular forearms. “You’re lucky these bars are solid steel, otherwise I’d come over and break your spine.”
“Trust me,” said Farris. “I’d consider myself far luckier if there was any way out.”
The other prisoner looked like was about to respond but was cut short when the guard’s footsteps came again. As he went by, Farris returned to his previous stance: tall and proud, as if he wasn’t questioning his motives for even getting involved with the Silverback in the first place.
Did something change? he thought, recalling the way Argyll had spoken to him when the arrest was made. Or was he always like this?
When the guard vanished from sight once more, Farris returned to his seat on the cold, wooden bench.
