Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) (22 page)

Lauro ended the Stride and dropped to the ground, trying his hardest trying his hardest to withstand the continued blasts. It was difficult, but he managed. How the Golden Nation kept making more thunderballs, he had never figured out. Perhaps they had Stone Striders to draw to continually draw more metal… metal up from the ground. Morr might know. Where was the man?

Oh, spirits of sky and cloud… no!
He bounded forward, to where the ranger lay on his side, missing an arm and bleeding from an ugly shard of rock lodged in his gut.

“
Morr!” Lauro screamed over the pandemonium. He cradled the old man’s head in his hands, but the ranger’s eyes had already closed forever. Blood stained his forehead. “Blast! Bloody Coalskins!” Lauro let the man lie, lurching up in time to watch a second, then a third strike punch through the barrier. Why were the blasts so much stronger this time? The barrier had never, ever broken before.

Then, suddenly, everything was silent. Lauro trembled, but in anger, not fear. The battalions of the Remnant were scattered and scarred from the attack’s ferocity. Maybe they would recover… maybe not.
Two volleys. Then a charge. It’s always that. Why? Does it matter? Looks to be the same this time, the last time… ever.

A thundering roar broke the momentary lull in action. Lauro sprinted to the smoking gap in the wall just in time to watch the Golden Army surge forward with one motion in the grandest and most terrifying charge he had ever seen. Golems trampled their own as they raced to make the front of the race. Destroyers rumbled slowly after, Thunder upon Thunder, ready for the killing stroke when it came.

Lauro chanced a glance backward. It wouldn’t take long for the charge to come. Could he re-organize the men in time? Perhaps. He had to try.

Was now the time to call on Traveller? This certainly promised to be the worst battle yet… the one to end them all, probably. But…

No,
he decided.
Not yet. They have not even begun to tax their greatest strength. Neither shall we.

“
Men of Vastion!” he roared. “To me! To me! Rally to the breaches! Defend the barricade! Prepare the defense!”

And to his utter surprise… they did. Every one of them… even the ones almost dead with wounds. With fire in their eyes, they rushed forward, ready to breathe their last in defense of freedom.

“
The White Hawk!” they cried. “The Wind Throne! Lauro Vale! LAURO VALE!”

A brigade of spearmen formed behind him. Two Sky Striders in winged helmets soared through the air from where they had been in the rear, landing beside him with grim expressions, hands sparking with fell energy. Lauro unsheathed the sword he had looted from Automo’s forge, raising it over his head with a furious battle-cry.

“
For VASTION!”

~

The Gray Cathedral shook so hard Gribly thought it would collapse on their heads. But it did not, and he remained as deep in the meditative state as he could, seated in the place where the altar to the Creator had once been, with crumbling statues of the Aura placed in eleven- no, ten- alcoves around him. The statue of Automo, strangely, had fallen entirely to pieces before the Remnant armies had even arrived.
Did they know, those ancestors of men who once worshipped here? Did some prophet, greater than I, foretell of the Red Aura’s betrayal? So much is lost in the passage of time…

…
time…

“
What is he doing, O Aura?” whispered Raenin. Gribly did not open his eyes, or allow the interruption to distract him.

“
Creating what is called
Allotel Ar’hele
, in the Nymphtongue,” Traveller explained.

Armir whistled. “A Dream Portal. But there have been no Spirit Striders powerful enough to do that in… hundreds of years. And he’s a Stone Strider, not a… a…”

“
One prism serves equally well for two lights,” the Gray Aura said quietly, “and Gribly has created a Dream Portal twice before.”

On and on the rangers and the Aura talked, until their words became a haze of nothing, washing over Gribly’s mind like the lullaby Old Murie had sung to him when he was still young enough to be afraid of the dark.

“
When the king grows old and the world bleeds gold,

When all our hopes have come to grief,

Doubt not that we a savior need,

A brother and a thief...”

Strange, how it all made sense to him now. The lullaby had been about
him.
Strange, too, how rangers were not afraid of the Aura as were other men. Perhaps it was because many of them were part nymph. But that wasn’t the point, was it?

Snap.

“
Ow!” Gribly exclaimed, opening his eyes. There was a painful throbbing in the bruise on his head, the one from almost passing through the portal he’d created inside his otherworldly dream the night before. The others looked at him quizzically. “I’ve got it,” he said, a bit sheepishly.

“
I will be going, then,” Traveller said. “They have need of me in the battle. Do not tarry, O Prophet, no matter what joy or sorrow awaits you at the Giant’s Bridge.”

Lightning flashed, and the Gray Aura was gone.

“
Armir. Raenin. Come here,” Gribly said, and they obeyed. “Put out your hands.” They did.

Standing up took more effort than he’d expected. Creating the Portal had drained him considerably, even with the aid of Traveller’s staff. He leaned on it even more.

“
What will happen now?” Raenin asked. She was an inquisitive one, with a voice like a child’s… but he’d seen what she could do.

“
Take hold of the staff with me, you on its tip, Armir, and you below my hands, Raenin. Both hands, both of you. Hold tightly. Good. Now close your eyes.”

“
You didn’t say…” Raenin began.

“
Just do it.” They did.

Gribly bowed his head, blinking once, gathering his strength for the
jump
. Having them close their eyes wasn’t necessary, of course… but he knew it would frighten them to see how he would bring them through the confines of the Otherworld and into another, distant place in their own land.

By the power of the Aura of dreams,
he intoned in his head,
I beg leave to travel where no flesh shall live. Through the portal of my mind, through the gates of my spirit, allow me to travel.

Move me, Creator of the world… as you see fit.

Then he lifted his head, fixing an image just south of the Giant’s Bridge in his mind. It wouldn’t do to walk into Sheolus’s trap, if trap it was. They would approach from the opposite direction he expected.

The
jump
was near. Very, very near. He could feel it in his bones.

“
Close your eyes, Raenin. I meant it.” She obeyed, chastised. How strange, to have fully grown men and women obey him, simply because.

Gribly
jumped
. Not in the air, but through the portal.

The Power of Spirit filled him, and his eyes glowed with a light brighter than the noonday sun that no longer shone. He cried out in pain and glee- he couldn’t help it! The exhilaration, the suffering, rolled into one… it was all he could do not to burn up with the power of it.

And then, as quickly as it had started, the
jump
ended.

“
Ugh,” he said, sliding down the staff until he was kneeling in a slouch. A wavy sea of grass was all around them, heralding their arrival in the Greyfeld. The light from his eyes vanished, but…

“
Good heavens,” Raenin burst out, “you really did it!”

“
Gribly,” Armir said, “your eyes are steaming.
Steaming
. What did you just do?” They had both let go of the staff, and now crouched beside him.

“
Ugh,” he answered. “Can’t… do that… again…” Everything seemed dimmer now, without the Power of Spirit filling him. It was entirely different, entirely superior to Stone… though less solid, in a way.

“
Blast,” Armir said, “look, Raenin. A troop ship. But… where are the troops?”

“
Ah… Gribly? You need to see this.” It was Raenin talking now. Her voice was disbelieving.

With a painful effort, Gribly rose to his feet, using the staff for support. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, and when he could see again, the sight made him gasp.

The Giant’s Bridge stretched out to the North, like a titanic white bone stretched across a dark sea of blood. But between it and them, where the Greyfeld ran down to a sandy strip of land rimming the sea, the hulk of a Golden Nation troop warship had run aground and tipped to the side.

“
There’s blood in the water,” he said quietly. “A lot of it.”

“
How can you tell?” said Armir, squinting against the failing light.

“
I can… sense it, in a way. Striding gives more sight than what the eyes use. We need to get down there…
now
.”

“
Alright, Gribly, but why?” Raenin supported him as he hobbled weakly towards the ship. Armir slipped on ahead, almost invisible in his gray cloak against the ashy space of the Greyfeld. He leaned on her gratefully, as well as the staff.

“
There may be people down there who need our help.”

“
Ah…” she said. “The mysterious quest that’s taken us from the battle.” She sounded slightly bitter, all of a sudden. He wasn’t surprised. Both rangers rued being separated from Vastion’s last stand.

“
Don’t worry,” he said grimly. “If I’m right, what we’re doing here will save not just Vastion, but the world.”

“
Right,” she said. “It’s just that-”

Up ahead, Armir gave a surprised cry. Raenin let go of Gribly, sprinting ahead. “Armir!” As she crested the hill ahead of him, she slipped, trying to turn and run back… but something seized her, dragging her bodily down out of sight.

“
Blast, blast, blast…” Gribly muttered, hobbling along. With every step, he drew strength from the earth… but it was not coming fast enough.

He reached the top of the hill, and immediately a ball of fire raced towards him. He cried out, raising the staff, and the flames parted on either side. The long grass blades wrapped around his ankles, slowing him, and suddenly a fountain of earth sprayed out from below, rushing towards him.
It can’t be…

Dropping the staff, Gribly thrust out his arms, shouting. The writhing arm of stone and dirt twisted to the side as he diverted its energy, bending it around him to strike back at whoever had thrown it. With a whooshing
crunch
, it struck the dark form at the bottom of the hill…

…
and was stopped by a wall of ice that sprang up inches from the attacker. Gribly stopped his own assault as a beautiful nymph girl rose up from the grass where she had been hiding.

“
Elia?” he shouted down, barely able to believe his eyes.

“
Gribly?” she said. She threw her hands over her mouth. Yes, it
was
her! He couldn’t see her face clearly, but…

The wall of ice melted away into a splash of water. Elia started forward slowly, unbelieving, and the dark figure threw back his hood with a harsh laugh.

Gramling. Gribly halted, suddenly wary.

“
You.”

“
Me,” Gramling agreed. “Here, want your friends back? I only stopped them because the first one tried to stick a blade in me when I surprised him.”

The ground opened up on either side, and a coughing pair of rangers flew out as if they’d been kicked, sprawling on the grass and spitting dirt and dust from their mouths. For a moment it looked as if they would attack Gramling again, but Gribly spoke out quickly.

“
Raenin, Armir! Don’t! These are the ones we came for.” It all made sense now… except the part where Sheolus had let him go. Or had that really been him? Had the dream-world invented its own twisted way of giving him information about the future? “I apologize,” Gribly said. “It was my fault for not telling them why we came.”