Frays In The Weave 55 Skirmish: 4

She stared into the early summers sky, waiting for that promise to materialize.

Below them the Imperial Guard had cleared the training grounds from people, and the outworlder soldiers in their moving armour patrolled both highways to make sure no one arriving to Verd ventured out into what would soon become a steaming inferno of landing sky ships.

They were all needed. No matter that she'd sent town criers out well in advance to warn off anyone just too curious to stay out of danger, all grounds this side of Wh.o.r.e's Crotch was a writhing ma.s.s of people eager to get closer to the spectacle. There was pushing and yelling, sharp elbows and hard words, but most of all the very air vibrated with apprehension, and hope.

Mairild sighed with content. For once the religious hysteria was only a subdued murmur from misfits dissatisfied with losing centre stage even for a day. If she played this right she might just be able to keep it that way for several days to come. Not forever, but at least for a while, and maybe, just maybe, a sizeable number of the soon to be converts would be too busy working side by side with outworlders to feel the need to join one of the new sects.

As she daydreamed of making her work just that much easier a shrill voice, just below her, in the killing grounds between the south gate walls, announced the wrath of G.o.d, end of days and the general horrors waiting anyone who didn't repent.

She turned and stared down just in time to see the woman brusquely brushed aside by a guard. Mairild smiled. She wasn't the only one sick and tired of listening to pious lamentations. Why didn't anyone show up and declare eternal happiness and infinite gifts from joyous G.o.ds?

Beside her Erwin Radovic smiled knowingly. He'd revealed similar feelings several days earlier, even mentioned something about civilized cultures outlawing missionary sects. That had resulted in a conversation she hadn't believed she'd ever share with an outworlder.

So many differences, and so many similarities between Keen and the federation of his. And now this. Him and the Martian official working together to lessen their respective importance by aiding a third kingdom to gain a foothold in Keen. For humanitarian reasons.

She didn't care about their reasons. Keen desperately needed all the help she could get. Still, Mairild made it a point to influence her council colleagues. The outworlders would be handsomely rewarded. That was part grat.i.tude and part politics. After a crisis a new one awaited, and friends were always good to have, even for nations.

A gust of wind caught her hair and threw it ahead of her. Had she gained so much grey the last year? She hadn't noticed. For a while she thought it was arriving sky ships disturbing the air, but the sky stayed clear and still.

Then small dots grew from thin, white streaks in the west. She had thought them to be clouds. There were so many, but Erwin had promised, and she remembered. The dots grew, became shapes and she saw the sky ships for what they were.

It was happening, it was really happening.

Erwin stirred at her side, as did William. She turned, waiting for their arrogant, satisfied grins. They would have earned them and she didn't care. Both faces displayed pure terror.

Erwin roared frantic orders into his mouthpiece. They were in English, she understood as much, but they were the kind of words she had only heard General de Markand, or Trindai use. Terse, unyielding and filled with need.

"What's happening?" she asked.

William stared at her with eyes filled with despair, and Erwin, the ever polite Erwin, waved her aside as if she was a fly to be swatted. The he continued shouting more words, numbers, directions and more numbers.

She saw the moving armour turn and raise the contraptions she knew were weapons. They all pointed east and so she looked in that direction.

There were sky ships coming from there. So small? How could they fit a driver into one of them? Then the outworlders on the ground let lose their a.r.s.enal, and even from a distance the screech of a thousand wounded beasts reached her, rolled over her and pushed her backwards as she saw the fiery inferno surrounding the armoured soldiers and clawing its way into the sky.

Thin birds of death tore east, and she had a vision of vipers hunting vipers.

High above them, still far to the east flowers of fire burst into blossom, withered and died in black smoke. Then the few surviving sky ships flew over them screaming thin protest of agony on their way west, on their way to meet the landing sky ships, and Mairild finally understood what was happening.

The people on the ground cried out in jubilation. They didn't know. How could they? It could have been a fanfare. Mairild let out a silent scream of anguish and death rained among them.

The very first ship to land never had a chance. Three predatory birds met it mid sky and it vanished in a white cloud of fire. The ships trailing her met their fates closer to Verd and muted thunder rolled over them long after the fiery clouds had separated into falling bits of burning debris.

She cried each time a flower of death blossomed in the sky, and all the time she saw the outworlders in their intricate dance of metal and death as they moved their armour in ways no human should be able to do.

They writhed, multiple arms flailing rhythmically to drums of murder, and eternally long banners of fire flew into the sky, always reaching for the killing birds from the east. Round and round they swirled, more frantic now as their cages of birds were empty and they had to resort to their mechanical crossbows.

The sound changed. Small explosions of birds taking air in hunt for larger birds were replace by a sickening sound of ripping cloth.

No muted thunder any longer. The surviving sky ships from the kingdom above them were on their final approach now. Whenever one was ripped apart the sound tore through them all like a whip wielded by a G.o.d, and Mairild saw that the flowers of fire were really explosions like a gla.s.s of brandy thrown in the fire.

There was no gla.s.s shattering. Fragments of metal, and other debris fell over the training grounds, and some over Verd itself.

On the training grounds sky ships were finally touching down. Most in renewed explosions of white fire from which they emerged miraculously unscathed, but a few in tumbling detonations of red and white ripping long gorges in the ground.

Above her Mairild heard a whiplash to the north, and a burning wreck made its final decent somewhere over the city. Then, from the poor quarters came a roar from a gutted dragon, then silence and after that another growl of anguish as whatever fuelled the sky ships torched a building.

Another clap of thunder forced her to her knees. Something stung her face, and when she looked up something, or rather somewhat, what was left of him, or her, bounced over the south gate and came still on the flagstones with a meaty splash. And arm or a leg, she couldn't tell.

And finally the thunderstorm abated. No more explosions but no silence neither. Screams of panic reached her from below. People were trampling each other to death in their attempt to escape a danger that no longer existed, and the butchers from the east continued killing long after the last of their weapons fell silent.

William stared at her with ashen face, but he said nothing. To her left Erwin continued shrieking words to his soldiers. Even Mairild, with her limited knowledge of military matters could hear that they were orders no longer. He was shouting and crying, just an animal in pain releasing his anguish.

She watched him. Traces of tears covered his face.

Then, because someone had to, she slapped him as hard as she could.

"The wounded! There are people alive down there. Help them! Let the dead rest for now."

He stared back at her, uncomprehending.

William wrested his mouthpiece away from him and started barking orders into it.

Satisfied that someone was taking control Mairild turned her immediate attention to her own. There was no need. Someone, an Imperial officer had already made sure that her citizens were shepherded into the training grounds, dispersed so they wouldn't crowd each other to death any longer. Behind her a final, brutal charge of cavalry made certain that the people turned their fears to something they knew and could apprehend.

Order returned.

Someone screamed.

Someone died.

The efficient machine that was the Imperial Guard forced room for the wounded.

The surviving sky ships opened up and released their cargo of humans.

The arrivals poured onto the ground, some wounded, a few already dying.

Shocked and hurt they went to work, delivering their first part of the promised help.

Here.

Now.