Fire in the Sky

Tathar led his eagles to the sign of war. The pillars of smoke marked where the land was scarred by the advancing armies, and he smelled death on the high, cold wind. The sun was just beginning to rise crimson over the far horizon of the sea, and here the light would touch soonest, before it sullied itself upon the cursed earth.

A dozen birds flew behind him in a wide formation, ready for battle, for he expected to draw blood today. For weeks now they had seen the signs of warfare as the armies of the empire pushed into the hills on savage raids. They sought out the villages and hiding places of the tribes that dwelled there and slaughtered those who resisted, enslaved the rest and dragged them away. The hill and forest peoples were no friends of his, but he would not allow the enemy to advance any closer to his home.

He thought of their lovely island, so remote and guarded by the sea, the perfect eyrie, and now their home. Suara was there, guarding their daughter and newborn son. Though she had wanted to come on this war band, she had remained behind, and he was both glad and wished she rode with him.

They stayed high, watchful. He knew the enemy army would be guarded by their new Skylords, but he did not know how many. He had taught his riders as well as they could be taught, telling them to aim for the riders with their heaviest arrows. He feared to face the lances of the enemy, for his people had little defense against such weapons.

Now they saw the trail of the enemy formation, the black scar upon the earth like the mark of red hot iron. He saw the smoke and knew they had finished their strike, were now burning the hovels and stores they found to leave nothing behind. Were they lower, he knew he would see the heads mounted on sharpened stakes, and was glad he could not. He had thought to leave all such wanton cruelties behind him.

Zakai shifted and growled, and he knew the eagle saw something he had not. He felt the lance light and ready in his hand and urged his steed downward, trading height for speed. He wanted to be above the flying enemy when he saw them, to dive upon them and strike before they could react. His warriors might kill a few of the riders, but it would be up to him and his lance to strike the heaviest blows, and he must do it before the enemy could bring their own lances to bear.

The enemy force below was like a fester of ants moving on the hillsides, and the sight of them made him angry and disgusted, as though they were an infestation he could stamp out with his hands. Black shadows moved against the dark, wooded hillsides, and then he saw them. Six riders on their serpentine beasts, flying a low circle over the army. They were low to scout and protect the ground forces, and did not look for an attack from above. That was an error, and he would teach them the cost of it.

He urged Zakai downward, and the others saw and followed him. The great red eagle pulled his wings in closer, and the wind began to scream through his steel-hard feathers. Tathar ducked his head and squinted into the oncoming rush of wind, judging speed and distance with long practice. They dropped lower, the ground seeming to heave up toward them.

Their dive brought them in at terrible speed, and they were on the enemy before they were seen against the paling sky. Tathar turned Zakai toward the center of the wing, and he lifted his lance and sent red fire lashing across the sky, leaving thunder and burning air behind it. The bolt struck home with a terrible sound as metal and flesh were incinerated, and the sky beast screamed as it was blasted apart.

The other Skylords turned, trying to see what had happened, and then Zakai veered aside and struck one with his talons spread wide, slashing terrible wounds deep in the scaled flesh, spilling blood that splashed and then fell through the cold morning air. The beast lashed out with its stinger tail and he heard it crack like a whip as it passed close enough to part the feathers on Zakai’s neck.

He released his prey and the beast fell, fighting to stay in the sky with one shredded wing, and he heard the roar as it plummeted toward the earth. He saw the rider, faceless beneath the heavy helm, struggling to stay in the saddle, and he wondered if it was someone he knew.

Lightning clawed for him, and he turned back to the battle. Zakai evaded a clumsy bolt and then Tathar caught another on the tip of his own lance and the arc of it glowed bright as the sun as it roared between the two weapons. The light of it threw black shadows across them all, and then his riders plunged through like winged demons, slashing through the shattered formation.

They fired their long bows as quick as they could draw them, and steel-tipped arrows scythed across the sky. At this close range they pierced armor and flesh. They could not cause more than superficial wounds on the hulking winged beasts, but two of the riders cried out and slumped against their harnesses, bristling with dark shafts.

Then the eagles struck, slashing with their keen talons and ripping through scaled armor and reptilian flesh. They screamed with fury and sent another beast twisting downward, mangled and gutted. Stinger tails struck and an eagle shrieked and dropped away, threshing its great wings to try and hold onto the sky even as it plunged downward to death.

Lightning stormed the air, and Tathar turned desperately, parried the stroke and countered as his riders scattered, leaving him to deal with the last enemy as he had commanded them to do. He cursed as red fire cracked the sky and Zakai fought to gain height, screaming his eagerness for blood.

They swooped in close, the sky beast lashing its deadly tail, and Tathar gave Zakai his head to evade it, concentrating on the deadly glowing tip of the lance. He struck with his own weapon and scarred the sky with fire. The Skylord parried and their lances coursed with power, hissing and shuddering before the arc snapped and thunder roared.

The tail struck and struck again, and Zakai evaded it, for he had been well-trained in his youth, and now Tathar could see that the beasts were slower and less agile in the air than eagles, for all that they bore heavier armor and greater strength. Zakai sought an opening to sweep in and strike with talon or beak, but the thing guarded with its envenomed stinger and gave him no room to attack.

They spiraled downward, close to the earth, and now the Skylord struck again and Tathr parried the crimson lightning, felt his lance glow with heat and shiver in his hand as he fought to control the coruscating energies. They were close, so very close, and the tail came again and hissed past him so near he could hear the wind of it. Thunder roared, and the beast turned to try and gain room, to draw away.

Tathar only had to turn his wrist, and the arc of fire shifted and cut through the membrane of one wing, burning it away like paper. The beast screamed and fell away from them, fighting to stay in the sky and losing. He saw the rider struggling to keep his seat and could have struck him down, but he did not. He wanted to know the answers to too many questions. If he had a chance to take a prisoner, he would seize it.

He followed the thing down as it plummeted, slashing the air with its wings, one of them still trailing smoke. They passed over the army below, through the towers of smoke, and arrows reached up for Zakai, falling far short. Tathar struck downward with his lance and ripped a slash of lightning across the host below, scattering men and blackening the earth. He would return to deal with them soon enough.

The beast crashed into the forest well away from the main body of the invaders. It snapped branches and shattered trees as it came to ground, and it left a great gouge in the soil as it struck. He let Zakai circle once and then they landed. His eagle deftly caught the venomous barb in his claws and then bit it off before the thing, in its death throes, could strike one final time.

Tathar saw the rider to one side, rising slowly from where the impact had hurled him. He swung down and left Zakai to feed, and he planted his thunderlance in the earth and left it there, approached the wounded rider with caution, and anger.

Faceless behind the helm, he could not say if this was someone he had ever known. Their armor was different than what he remembered, with heavy plates and jagged spikes on the shoulders. The rider stood and drew a long, dark sword, faced him in grim silence. Tathar drew his own short blade and took a guard, though he was no swordsman.

“I will have words, or blood,” he said. “Choose well.”

The dark rider did not answer, only came toward him with sword uplifted, and then their steel clashed in the morning shadows of the ancient trees. Tathar parried and parried again, falling back from the heavy blows. He was not a great fighter, for Skylords were never meant to cross steel with the enemy, but rather strike from on high. He fended off the sweeping blows, backing across the broken ground, stepping over the shattered branches.

It was Zakai who ended the duel. Turning from his grisly feasting, the eagle struck out with one hooked talon and slammed the rider to the ground, grinding him into the earth until he cried out. Tathar kicked aside the long sword and took it for himself, admiring the smooth, glassine finish of it. Zakai held the rider pinned while Tathar reached down and pushed up the visor to reveal the unseen face.

It was a youthful face, but the skin was pale and sunken deeply, so it seemed older. Tathar did not know them, or he did not recognize them now. Their eyes were black on black, like wet, polished stones, and when the thin lips drew back from the teeth, they were revealed as black as well.

The rider shuddered, as though it were cold or gripped by horror, and Tathar put the blade of its own sword to the thin throat. “What does the empire want here? What has become of the old Skylords? Speak or I will feed you to my steed.”

The rider opened his black mouth and made a sound like grinding stones. It reached up with hands that shook and clawed for the blade he held against it. It gripped the black sword and tried to wrench it away, and Tathat had to use both hands to free it. “Speak!” he hissed, furious and yet afraid. “Tell me who you are! Tell me where these beasts came from! Where are the Skylords? Where?”

He menaced it with the sword again, and it caught the blade again between bleeding hands. Before he could stop it, it pulled the point down and impaled its own throat, dark blood gushing forth. The thing that might have been a man gasped and gagged, twitched on the earth as blood soaked into it, and then the blank eyes went blanker still.

Tathar pulled the blade free and shook the blood from it. He looked down at the dead thing and spat to one side. In that dead, white face he saw the ghost of his past life coming to claim him, and he knew there was no escape from it.

Wings sounded overhead, and he looked up to see his riders circling there. Two of them dropped down and landed in the open, brandishing thunderlances. “We found two of them!” one called to him, excited. “But the foot soldiers are coming this way.”

“Well enough,” Tathar said. He unbelted the sheath from the dead rider and buckled it on, sheathed the dark blade. He caught Zakai’s harness and climbed back to his saddle, took the long spire of his lance from where it still stood, embedded in the earth. “Let them come,” he said. “We will teach them to fear the sky.”

o0o

They took to the air again, spiraling upward into the sky as the red sun climbed higher over the horizon. Below, Tathar could see the whole panoply of the enemy force. Ranks of marchers and riders on slither-necked beasts. They dragged a pack train behind them for supply, along with siege weapons and engines of destruction such as he had never seen. He counted several thousands, and he knew that was only a small fraction of the force the empire could command. This was only a raiding party, meant to capture slaves and instill terror.

Such a force was not prepared for an attack from above. With their riders scattered, they had no defenses, and he led his wing in a sweep over the whole body. Arrows reached for them, and the battle engines launched bolts and balls of fire upward, but Tathar knew that untrained men would never hit a flying target. Even the few arrows that reached them glanced from the eagle’s steely feathers, and then he lifted his lance and loosed fire upon his enemies.

Lightning scrawled over the ground, searing flesh and soil and metal alike. The sound of thunder caused the other birds to shy away from him, and he knew they must now be trained – as Zakai had been – to ignore the din of battle. His other riders loosed arrows downward in a rain of death, black iron points piercing armor and bone.

He left a path of fire and death behind them, and then he turned and led them in another attack. He smote down upon the supply wagons with crimson bolts, and shattered the war machines. Fire spread like a stain, and smoke billowed upward into the red morning.

Once the bolt engines had been destroyed, he loosed his eagles to swoop low and snatch men up from the ground. The great birds screamed as they ripped men away into the air, crushed them, and let them fall, mangled and destroyed. They ripped them apart with talons and beaks, and when they had passed, Tathar followed with his lance shattering and scouring.

They left nothing behind. The last of the soldiers scattered into the forest, fleeing for their lives, leaving the burning remains of their force behind them. He knew most of them would not survive here. Those of the hill tribes who remained would hunt them down and butcher them in terrible ways. A few would eventually find their way back to Zur, and would tell the tale of what had happened here. They would speak of the war eagles that swept down upon them out of the rising sun, and they would tell of the rider on a red bird who struck at them with a lance of fire. In that moment, his decision would be made for him, so he made it now.

o0o

Returned to his eyrie, he left Zakai dreaming of red ruin and carried his lance down the passageway to the caves where he lived. There was a hearth carved in one wall, and he hung the thunderlance above it with an almost reverent hand. He had once thought to leave all of this behind him, but war came searching for him.

“Will they return?” Suara said. She had grown harder over the years, her arms corded with strength from controlling her great bird. Their children slept close to the fire, for the winds from the sea were cold at night. This place smelled of leather and woodsmoke and birds of prey. It was home to him now.

“Yes,” he said. “The emperor will hear of me from those who escaped, and he will know I am here with more riders, and that I defy him. He still owes me a sentence of death for my past betrayals, and time will not have soothed them.” He sat down heavily, feeling older than his years. “He will send a stronger force, with more of his beast riders. We must choose what we will do, all of us.”

“We will follow you,” she said. “You came from the sky and made us strong, you taught us to ride, and gave us the sky for our hunting grounds. We will all follow you.”

“Then I must choose,” he said. “We must either flee, or fight. There can be no other course. We gather everything the birds can carry and we fly away from here – go south until the land ends, seek another island, other mountains. Another place to call home.”

“Or we go to war,” she said.

“A war we cannot win,” he said. “A war against not another tribe, or clans of forest raiders, but against an empire. The Black Emperor commands thousands of soldiers, and I do not know how many flying beasts he may have. He has powers beyond mortal reach, and I can only imagine what he might send against us. If we fight, we might wound him, shed blood of his armies, but we cannot defeat him. Not alone.”

“We cannot be alone,” she said. “If he wars on us, he wars on others. We must seek them, find those who war on him already and join our power with theirs. We command the sky. What warmaster would not value that?”

“Indeed,” he said, pleased by her clear thinking. “And to do that, we must leave this place, regardless. We will seek out other armies in other lands. But we will not flee, we will not hide. We go to war, and so we must leave our home for a time.” He looked down at his sleeping children and knotted his hands into fists. “Yet we will return.”