Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five) (2 page)

The earth lent him speed, but it still felt like hours before the Stone creaked with the sounds of hundreds of marching feet.

Above, thunder boomed. Beneath, Gribly smiled… and
pushed
.

The earth exploded upward in a torrent of whirling earth that moved so fast it began to smoke. Gribly felt himself lifted upwards on the boiling tide of rock and soil he had summoned, as daylight broke in over him and the outer world came into view with a violent jolt.

There were Coalskins
everywhere
. He kept himself protected in a cocoon of swirling Stone, lashing out left and right with hurling boulders and cracks in the ground that swallowed golems whole… but it wasn’t enough. Gribly poured all he was into the Striding, forming a hard plate of earth for him to stand on while he wove and spun, struck and kicked, forcing the world around him to mimic his motions. Bodies flew, stone ate up foe after foe, but the golden tide kept coming. Lauro was nowhere in sight, but there was no time to worry.

A Pit Strider managed to break through his protective stone-storm, setting her own body on fire and bulling through the torrent with a spray of liquid flame that melted anything within yards of her.

Perhaps it was because she was a woman, but Gribly’s reaction was too slow. He lifted a fist of stone from the ground, intending to smash her with it, but a gust of hot wind lifted his feet and flung him to the ground. His stone-fist disintegrated on the air, and he tasted warm blood in his mouth.

He rolled, but was too slow again. The Coalskin woman leaped at him, a fiery spear blazing to life in her hands, veil-like garments fluttering madly in the wind. The flames running from her body did not seem to harm them.

Lightning struck. Gribly cursed, stumbling to his feet, and there was nothing left of the Pit Strider but swirling ashes.

“
Nice move!” Lauro shouted over the tumult, hurling bolts of power at the horde that surrounded them, “But next time, don’t hesitate! She would have killed you!”

Gribly spat out the dirt and blood in his mouth, not bothering to answer as he re-vitalized the stone-storm around them, continuing the fight in silence. In a moment Lauro was gone again, streaking upwards on summoned wind, adding his own abilities to Gribly’s storm, just as they had in the Grymclaw, what seemed like ages ago.

Wind, Lightning, Stone and Earth. It was a world-shattering storm that ripped apart metal and flesh alike, tossing Coalskin corpses like dead leaves in a blaze, smashing the Golden Nation’s war machines easier than tinder.

But the tide came on. A minute passed, worth ages in the midst of a battle, and the enemy showed no sign of retreating. Hopefully the storm would hold them off until the Vastic Remnant could regroup from the orb-attack and form up battle lines… but maybe not. Eventually the strain of Striding so much energy began to take its toll on both youths, and the attacks from Pit Striders outside their range increased in frequency and rage.

It didn’t help at all that they could barely see past the edge of their own storm.

“
We’re not going to last!” Lauro called down, wind-casting his voice from where he floated high above Gribly’s head, controlling the elements. “Enough of these blasted fireballs and we’ll crumple like a rotten log!”

Gribly’s blood boiled at the words, and a haze obscured his vision as fatigue wracked his body all at once.
No! I won’t have it end this way!

“
We… aren’t… finished… yet!”
he roared, raising his hands to the sky and screaming out words he had not dared utter since his last, nearly fatal encounter with Sheolus.
“Aura of the Creator! I call you forth! Wherever you are, HEAR ME… and COME!!!”

At his last word, the storm dropped silent around them, fading into deathly silence… and then rushed outward in a last, desperate finale, pushed on its way by both Striders. Lauro dropped out of the air beside him, falling onto his hands and knees, gasping for air. Gribly doubled over, wheezing, repeating himself again and again…
“Come… come… come…”

For a horrible, despairing moment, Gribly thought his prayer had gone unheard. Had breaking Fate broken his prophetical power, too?

Then the world
SHIMMERED.

Traveller, the Gray Aura, Guardian of Men, stepped out of a blazing light onto the field of battle.

The Golden Nation army, right on the point of breaking upon the Lost Walls, halted as one force, clearly frightened by the newcomer. Lauro struggled to his feet, clutching his mechanical sword in one hand, pulling Gribly up with another. The Gray Aura did not seem at all surprised by his summons; indeed, he almost looked as if he had been
expecting
them.

“
Now,” Traveller said, smiling grimly, “the real fight begins.”

Calloway would have died without the Grove; so it was only natural for him to protect it.

When the Golden Nation had poured into the Grymclaw from all sides, blasting away chunks of the cliffs that had protected the Four Villages for centuries, Cal had been the only one in his home not to lose his head with fear. The strangers who had come before, Gribly and Elia… they had told him such things would happen, and he had believed them. So he had spread the word through the village, and done what he could to help in the face of the crisis.

At that point, the villages would have been overwhelmed anyway, despite all he’d done. But the nymphs had come, with the Golden Nation nipping at their heels, and they had helped the villagers flee, turning and fighting only when it was necessary to give the old ones and young ones time to rest. Bit by bit, they had managed to escape northward…

But on the slopes of the rocky highlands, the armies of their foes had caught them. The nymphs, brave Reethe and sly Zain, had fought with all their might, and even the village men had joined the fray, but it was no use. They were all going to die… going to die…

…
but then the Grove had come, pushing its way out of the earth behind them, from the ruins of the
Swaying Willow
several miles to the north. A great mossy mountain broke from the ground, spreading life in rippling circles of greenery: plants and trees, grass and flowers that seemed to drive the Golden Nation back like an impenetrable stone wall.

And the Brown Aura had come; the Silent One who slew the enemy with tendrils of bark and stone that sprouted wherever he walked. He had grown the Grove as a place of refuge, he and the Gray Aura, the Traveling One who had organized the survivors, putting forth power into the night, calling all nearby survivors to the Grove through the words of the clerics who still preached the old beliefs.

With the Brown Aura’s Grove to protect them, and the Gray Aura’s dream-speaking to bring them allies, Cal knew it would take more than the Golden Nation’s demon-machines to trouble the Grymclaw. Still, it could never hurt to be ready…

Today, like all other days since he had come there, the boy patrolled the edge of the Grove, quarterstaff in hand, ready to repel any attackers. The elders who had come with him might have said it was foolishness for a young boy to think himself a warrior… but they did not know of his Gift. The Gift that the Gray Aura himself had given Cal in a dream; the Gift that made him powerful in a way no Village boy or man had been for generations.

Cal could Stride Stone.

The ground rumbled beneath the boy’s feet, too weak for anyone who did not have the Gift, but just strong enough for him to feel. Curious, Cal laid his staff aside, bending down to touch his ear to the grass. In this way, he had soon discovered how to sense who and what might be coming. Far from useless, that was… as long as he didn’t let the elders find out. They didn’t like Striding, even if Strider-nymphs had saved them.

Rummmble…
That was more than one person. More than a few. More than many. Cal couldn’t count, not well, anyway… but he knew the sound of an army when he heard it.

Slowly, he got up, brushed himself off, and picked up his quarterstaff. His hands were shaking. That army couldn’t be too far off… would he be able to warn the others in time? One of the elders, perhaps? No, they wouldn’t believe him. What about the Raitharch? Or the Sainarch? Their nymphs might understand, if he showed them that he was a Strider…

A strong breeze blew past him from deeper in the Grove; it smelled of fresh-cut herbs and strong-sap bark. Cal turned to go, and was immediately confronted with the tall shape of the Brown Aura, striding through the forest towards him. Cal almost stumbled in his surprised haste to get out of the way, but the Brown Aura caught him by the arm and kept him up.

“
The Gray Aura has been summoned,” Wanderwillow spoke in a deep, grating voice. Cal jumped- the Silent One had spoken! “The Last War has come,” continued Wanderwillow, “And you have your part to play as surely as I, Calloway An’South.”

“
I…” Cal fumbled over his words, trying to come up with a response. The Last War?

“
Follow,” the Brown Aura said, and letting go of Cal’s arm, walked away. The boy hurried to keep up with the massive strides of the Aura’s tree-like legs, but he drew strength from the stone beneath his feet… and he followed.

The Grove faded behind them, and Cal wondered nervously if the Brown Aura intended to confront the approaching army alone. The greenery of his new home gradually grew distant, swallowed by the all-consuming desolation of the war-torn Grymclaw. The rumble Cal had heard grew stronger and stronger, until he could hear as well as sense it.

Then dust rose ahead. The army was upon them! Cal almost yelped in fear, but the Brown Aura caught his eye and shook his hoary head once.

No
, the glance seemed to say,
things are not as they appear.
That one look, stern though it was, calmed Cal’s nerves. The Silent One was the Creator’s most powerful servant… surely he would not lead anyone to their death like this. Cal tried his best to make himself look confident… he was safe, wasn’t he?

Shapes moved in the dust, and all at once the Brown Aura halted, lifting a hand slightly to encourage Cal to do the same. The army stopped, too. Cal shivered. Was something horrible about to happen? Would the Silent One call down heaven-fire on the invaders and kill them all?

Then Wanderwillow raised a bark-like hand, and that same breeze Cal had felt back at the Grove spread out in a great
whoosh
ing gust towards the dust-cloud, scattering it instantly and revealing the people it hid. Cal frowned. If this was an invading army, it was nothing like the ones the Golden Nation had sent.

In front was a battered battalion of silver-armored men with dark skin, browner than Cal, but lighter than a Coalskin. They leaned wearily on notched axes and dulled spears, and there were huge curved scimitars at their belts. Behind them were men with lighter skin and bronze armor, and scattered throughout were men- and
women
, Cal was shocked to see- in dirty street clothing, hefting every kind of conceivable blade or bludgeon. All in all, a rather disheartened army. Cal thought they could be beaten easily.

Then he caught a glimpse of the army’s center, where a gaggle of children and elders were kept, obviously meant to be protected by the soldiers on the outside. Cal now saw that the army had formed a circle around its more vulnerable members.

These aren’t invaders…
he realized.
They’re survivors!

Now the motley army seemed to notice the Brown Aura for the first time, and though he was only one, whispers soon spread through the entire force of survivors, and silence fell over them all.

Then a man detached himself from the main body of the force, followed by two hulking warriors in silver, and a woman all in black. He crossed the two hundred paces between the army and the Brown Aura slowly, as if he were too tired to go any faster. As he drew close, though, Cal saw that there was a hard fire in his eyes, identical to the fire he’d noticed in the eyes of Gribly, and the beautiful nymph girl Elia. This, then, must be the leader of the survivors.

Ten paces away, the two silverguard halted. The leader and the woman kept coming until they were close enough for Cal to touch with the end of his staff, then halted and knelt stiffly, sinking down on both knees and bowing until their foreheads touched the ground. Cal fought a cry of surprise: the leader had long, pointed ears that almost cleared the top of his head! Was he a nymph, then?

“
I crave your mercy, O Ninth,” said the man, raising his head slightly in order to speak. The woman stayed where she was.