Countess Electra Neyon of Waylisia, the youngest Chief Deputy Secretary of the Duianna Alliance to an Alliance state — her new love, the Kingdom of Aelargo — stretched and yawned. She’d been working hard to set up the Alliance secretary office in Aelargo’s capitol, Llino.

Looking over her twelve busy staff members, she took a deep breath and exhaled it, enjoying the feelings that washed through her. She couldn’t wait for Lord Dohma to return; her whole body shivered at the imagined smile and congratulations she was sure he’d give her when she showed him her tidy new office. It was the model of efficiency. Everything was clean and orderly, with rows of empty filing cabinets, which would soon be filled with all the deeds, disputes, and investigations she and her staff would have to handle. It was a lot of work to run an office for the Duianna Alliance of Realms.

If someone had said to me, even four cycles ago, that I’d be placed in charge of my own office, I’d have called for the physicians and some priests of Dalpha to bless the mad fool. With my Lord’s rise to power came my own rise. I know my grandfather had something to do with them considering me for this, but the secretary of the Alliance is no fool. He would never allow someone to take such a position, let alone give them the responsibility of establishing a new office, if he didn’t have confidence in them. I’ve surpassed by thirteen years my goal of becoming a chief deputy secretary by age thirty-five! I’m the youngest to hold this position in the 10,061 year history of the Alliance. How can my Lord not be pleased with these results?

With the thought of Lord Dohma, she recalled the image of his face, her heart rate picking up. She clasped her hands in her lap and swallowed to clear the dryness of her throat. She knew he was in the assembly meeting that would be attacked by the Nhia-Samri just after the vote to ratify the war against the Nhia-Samri took place.

He’s one of the best warriors there, captain of the guard. And he has Daggers protecting him, she tried to reassure herself. It helped, marginally.

Again she considered asking Vesta to help keep him safe. She was aware of Vesta’s potential powers, but she set those thoughts aside. Both Vesta and Arkady were afraid of being discovered by the assembly.

Shaking her head she stood and looked out the window across the palace grounds. She knew Vesta was watching over her here, but Arkady had fled to the moon. He had been worried Duke would detect he was awake and according to Vesta’s monitoring he was right. Duke had been cross checking all the Gracian systems as well as unsealing some emergency corridors for the rulers’ expected retreat.

The moon. She looked up and the third moon was visible in the darkening sky. They can travel to the moon. They have such powers, yet they fear to use them.

She recalled the night she’d helped Vesta and Arkady attack the Nhia-Samri base. The three of them had used an army of steel-encased crabs the size of horses to attack a Nhia-Samri base. The Nhia-Samri had lost thousands of warriors, yet they’d won that fight. Vesta and Arkady were ancient powers, sentient beings made of pure energy and machines with powers that rivaled the Gods, but they’d still lost.

That same night the main Nhia-Samri stronghold, Hisuru Amajoo, survived an attack by Arkady that should have created a new mountain lake.

I’ve seen their power. They can do so much that the assembly voted to force them to sleep over 5,000 years ago to prevent the misuse of their knowledge and power. And yet the Nhia-Samri have proven strong enough to face their legendary powers.

I don’t wish they’d never woken up, but I do wish we’d been able to be more open about our preemptive strike on the Nhia-Samri. Because of the need for secrecy, Vesta and Arkady could not deploy the full level of forces they had at their command. The attack had not succeeded. She clenched her fists in frustration. Yes, we cut the Nhia-Samri forces by more than half. But the remaining forces were better, stronger, and I think angrier, which does not bode well for my beautiful Gracia or for my love, who will be at the center of the first attack.

Shaking her head out of her worrying, she examined her staff as they worked. More than a few quills were moving slower, and some hands were even a little shaky.

“Everyone, that will do for today. Go get some rest. Tomorrow I have meetings in the morning. There’s nothing outstanding that requires being here before noon.”

Their actions sped up noticeably as they cleaned their desks and put everything away. After they left, she took a quick tour to make sure all was in order before locking the doors. It was nice, having an office provided by the state in the palace. Her rooms were also provided by grant of the regents. As she walked back to her room, she passed patrols of four guards led by two Daggers.

For the uncounted time that day she patted her breast pocket, the soft crinkling of paper making her smile. The letter from Dohma was still there and real. Her steps quickened with the desire to sit in her private chamber and read his juvenile attempt at being romantic once again. It’s so sweet, silly, just like a young boy trying to impress his girl. His sister said no lady has ever turned his head. She’s so happy for us. When Regent Ellua had given Electra the letter, she’d also confided that she’d given up hope that he would find someone to love and be loved by.

Approaching her room, she noted there were six Daggers on guard in the hall leading to her door. No one else is here, so this must be for me. But we’re at the center of one of the ancient cities, the capital of Aelargo, in the very heart of the palace. Surely Dohma doesn’t expect the Nhia-Samri to strike here, too.

She acknowledged the Daggers, reading their body language to identify the senior one. All of the Daggers were women, and they looked like they were each a whole guard squad. The senior Dagger was a full hand shorter than the rest, with a strong, square face. She had a trim but muscular build and sported as many knives as would be expected of an assassin. She also wore small shield bucklers on both arms, with some rather expensive looking custom-armored gloves.

Electra stepped up to her. “Captain, why do I have six guards?”

Right eyebrow rising, the Dagger asked, “How’d you know I was in charge?” Her tone was exactly like that of Electra’s matronly tutor: tough, no-nonsense, and used to being listened to seriously. A shame, as it was also a lovely mezzo-soprano, which made Electra think of the very best smoky tavern singers.

Electra waved, indicating the others. “They all glanced at you when I looked them in the eye. Also,” she said, leaning in closer and lowering her voice, “I’ve noticed the shorter women Daggers are usually far more dangerous.”

The Dagger captain laughed an interesting, bouncing laugh that Electra liked. “You’re classic. Name’s Mandy. And yeah, I’m the lead. I received orders making me your personal guard captain. I picked the roughest and toughest I knew. I understand Lord Dohma has a personal interest in keeping you safe, so we’re taking this very seriously. The assembly is expected to vote any time now. You’ll have at least three of us with you at all times from here on.”

Electra’s stomach did a flip. Oh, no! How can I use the equipment Vesta gave me if they’re watching me?

She chewed her lip, trying to decide what to do. As she puzzled over the dilemma, her concentration was broken by the ringing of bells. The sound vibrated through her. They weren’t just any bells, but the big palace alarm bells, signaling the city to go on alert.

Before the second ring, three of the Daggers had drawn weapons and closed into a protective circle around Electra. The others had run in both directions down the hallways, to check around the corners.

Mandy grabbed Electra’s wrist and stared into her eyes. “Listen carefully. That can only be one thing. If we’re attacked, you’re to run away. Don’t worry about us. We’ll stay with you as best as we can. You must escape, even if that means abandoning us or fleeing the city. If we can, we’ll be with you or close behind. You’re smart and resourceful, according to everything I’ve been told.”

Electra tried to break Mandy’s grip, but for such a small woman, she was as strong as steel. “Mandy, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not important.”

Mandy reached out and poked her in the chest, just over her heart, and the letter there crinkled audibly.

“Lady, listen to me. You’re more important to Aelargo than you can imagine. And this is just one part of that. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, knows about you and Lord Dohma. Just as everyone believes Lord Dohma will be the calm in the storm that can save Aelargo from the Nhia-Samri. If you’re captured, you will be the end of Aelargo. You’re also a secretary of the Alliance of Duianna with Imperial authority, which will open many doors the Nhia-Samri are interested in.”

For a second, she felt dizzy and wobbly, as if the floor had fallen out from beneath her.

I’m only twenty-two. How can I be so important?

Her diplomatic training reasserted itself, and she slowed her breathing, looking at Mandy. “I understand. Let go. I need to get into my room.”

Mandy held her gaze a moment more before releasing her wrist. “Check her room,” she barked.

One of the Daggers moved over to her chamber door and slipped through it, closing it behind her.

“Do you expect an attack so soon?”

Mandy had turned so she could watch both ends of the corridor and the Dagger at each end, checking around the corner. Mandy shook her head. “No. We were told Gracia would be the primary target. But it won’t take them long to mobilize. The supreme commander believes they’ll attack all the old cities first.”

That makes sense. The old cities are strongholds and also symbols for the people. If the old cities fell, it would be demoralizing.

The door to her chambers opened and the Dagger slipped back out, holding Electra’s weapon belt, some clothes, and a few essentials.

They’re going to move me. I need to get to Vesta to see what’s really going on.

The Dagger stepped over, handing her the rest of her belongings. Electra shrugged into her light leather armor and strapped on the weapons belt.

This is going to be the dress of the day for some time.

She rolled her things into a tight ball and tucked it under her arm.

“There’s a green jewelry case on my night stand. I need that.”

Mandy looked at her with wide eyes. “You’re worried about your jewelry now?” she said incredulously.

“It holds more than you know. If you’re going to move me, I cannot leave that behind,” she said in her own commanding voice.

Mandy took in the tone and her serious stance and nodded. The other Dagger slipped back into her room and returned in seconds with the case held in one hand. Electra accepted it and then let the Daggers escort her to a room deep inside the palace, with no windows and a strong door.

“Two questions: There’s no back door, so what am I to do if we’re attacked? And when can I see the regents?”

“I was told by the regents to put you in this room; they seem to think it’ll be safer for you. And they said they’ll meet with you in the morning, once they have some reports sorted out.”

Electra sat down on the freshly prepared bed. There were empty bookcases along the wall.

This is an office converted recently for me. When did they decide to stuff me in here?

She thought back to the night a few days back, when Regent Ellua had given her the letter from Dohma. The letter had come with 250 reinforcement Daggers for the city.

I bet they picked this room the next day.

Her eyes landed on an old piece of furniture, a chamber-pot chair.

Oh, my Lady! Are we really going to that extreme?

Mandy and two other Daggers stood inside her door, blocking the way out. Mandy was watching her and chuckled, noticing what she was looking at.

“No, you don’t have to use that. There’s a privy and bath nearby. Still, someone thought ahead,” Mandy said lightly.

She felt odd with them standing there watching her. “Are you three going to stand there all night?”

Scanning the room, Mandy said, “Aren’t any chairs. Was planning a three-way rotation; meaning yes. The plan is three inside and three outside.”

Electra had a sinking feeling and caught herself petting the jewelry case. She glanced up and saw that all three Daggers were watching her closely.

I can’t slip on the neural band with them watching, can I? An idea came. If I don’t explain, it could pass for magic. In fact, it really is Imperial magic, just of a different type.

Placing the jewelry box on her bed, she stood, stepping in front of all three Daggers. She placed her hands on Mandy’s shoulders and stared into her eyes.

“Do you swear you are a loyal servant of Duianna?”

Confusion danced in Mandy’s expression for an instant. But she put her hand on her Dagger hilt, standing as tall as she could and meeting Electra’s glare.

“I am Mandy Gurlan of Gare Town, Dagger in service to the Duianna Alliance. I swear I’ll die before I betray the Alliance.”

The rock hard resolve in Mandy’s eyes told Electra everything she needed to know. Electra repeated the question with the other two Daggers, making them swear to die before betraying the Alliance.

Satisfied, Electra went back to the bed and touched the box’s lock. Keeping her fingers in just the right places she concentrated on her memory of the Neyon valley wheat fields, her home. The memory evoked a longing in her to once again walk through the fields of golden grain, letting the plants tickle her palms. A slight tingle passed through her fingers as the box’s systems confirmed her biological signature and brain-wave pattern, which together made an unduplicatable key for the lock. The box clicked open by itself.

Mandy raised her eyebrow, moving closer. “That isn’t a jewelry box, is it?” she said conspiratorially, a slight waver in her voice.

Electra gave Mandy a friendly smirk. “This is an Imperial secret of the highest order. If anything happens to me, you’re to put everything back into this and close the lock. Once sealed, even the Gods would have difficulties opening this box.” She recalled Vesta’s undersea worker crabs that labored to keep the merchant channels clear and safe. It took willpower not to smile too much. “Then, if you can, throw it into the deepest part of the Loren Sound you can reach.”

The other two Daggers had also come forward. Electra glanced at each in turn, and they all nodded to indicate that they understood the orders.

She lifted the lid, revealing the slim leather journal with gold filigree bindings, and the other compartments containing the technological treasures Vesta had given her to ensure their secrecy. She lifted a device that looked like an ornate silver plate normally used for holding small jewelry parts while the lady applied her makeup or prepared for the evening. She connected the plate to the box by an intricate rod that lifted out. Once the plate was in place, standing above the box on its rod, she activated the box. Although nothing appeared to happen, she knew that Vesta’s security systems had been engaged to block and scramble any signals trying to trace the transmissions from the device.

Pointing to the journal, Mandy said, “That’s a royal archive. I’ve seen one in the throne room of Gracia.”

Ah, good. That will reinforce the idea this is Imperial magic and not to be spoken of.

“Correct.”

She lifted the silver band from its compartment. “Now, I’m going to lie down and put this on my head. I will seem to be sleeping. I am not. If you need me, touch my arm. It might take a minute for me to know where I am. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT take this off my head without giving me a minute to return.”

“Return from where?” Mandy asked.

Oh no, I shouldn’t have phrased it that way. Electra felt her cheeks and ears heating up as she blushed at her mistake. What should I say? She recalled something her grandfather said often to junior courtiers when they made some inappropriate disclosure. ‘When you slip you don’t have to slide, just take the fall and you won’t lose as much ground.’

“That I cannot tell you. Now, I need to find out what’s going on.”

Mandy was smart — she had to be, in her position — and she jumped to a semi-correct conclusion. “You’re going to communicate with the Alliance. I see why that’s such a secret.”

As Electra lay down on the bed, Mandy and her two Daggers took their guard positions. With a last glance at them, she slipped on the silver band and closed her eyes, letting her head drop onto the pillow.

After cycles of working with Vesta, Electra was no longer scared as she felt her mind connecting to the city’s network. She was able to travel the networks, taking control of many of the devices and systems at will.

Vesta had introduced her to the idea of programming, and Electra had taken up the skills as if born to them. Arkady, the artificial sentient who lived in Gracia, believed her talents were inherited from her family through extra-natural means. Electra’s ancestor Muriel Neyon-Banaschel was the architect of the Imperial security overrides that had broken the assembly’s and Duke’s best coded locks, waking both Vesta and Arkady from their 5,000-year imposed slumber. Even Vesta and Arkady had so far been unable to determine exactly how Muriel’s releases worked. Muriel had been a genius systems engineer with a rare talent for complex systems, and Electra was proving to have comparable talents with the ancient systems.

She searched the network connections for Vesta’s presence. She was sure Vesta would be using a façade simulation of a city control room because Vesta liked the feel of moving around it to focus her work. It didn’t take long to locate it. Electra connected her data streams to the control room simulation and moved from the network into the half-real, half-projected control center of the city.

Vesta was not manifested in the control room, but the status displays showed that she was focused on some specific incoming signals. Dozens of monitors were showing satellite images of cities and the few Nhia-Samri bases they’d managed to locate. Electra ignored most of them, even though there were six cities with images of fires and panicked people fleeing.

She stepped over to the displays Vesta was so busy processing that she had dropped her projection in the control room. A whole wall of displays showed dozens of areas in Gracia. As she looked over the screens, Vesta materialized next to her. Nhia-Samri were fighting guards and Daggers in every display. Blood flowed freely down the floors and streets shown.

“What can we do to help?” she managed to choke out of her tightening throat. She fought tears, managing to hold them in check.

Vesta put a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing. In addition to Duke, there are immortals present who would immediately know what our actions meant. It would mean Arkady and I would be forced back to sleep. Even worse, Duke would take whatever time was needed to dig out Muriel’s security overrides to make sure we did not wake again until authorized by the assembly.”

“But Gracia could fall! Even with the extra Daggers and the Gods there. What if...?” Her throat tightened so hard she couldn’t finish the question.

My emotions affect me here too much. I really need to find a way to keep them tempered.

Arkady appeared, his voice cracking slightly as he spoke. “I have done all I can.”

Vesta blinked over to another panel and made some adjustments. “Arkady, can you boost the power? Your signal is still not stable.”

Arkady worked for a few seconds before he answered. His hands kept reaching out and typing or twisting things until his voice was slightly clearer. “I don’t want to boost the signal too much. If someone scans, we can’t let this link be discovered.”

Vesta blinked back next to Electra.

I’m glad they trust me so much now. In the last week, both Arkady and Vesta had stopped bothering to act like humans. Electra knew it was because they’d decided she could deal with what they really were. It had taken a little time to understand that they weren’t beings like all the others she knew. Electra had decided to classify them as spirits. Beings of energy, yes, made by her ancestors, but still beings with feelings and maybe even souls.

Electra realized she’d let herself drift from needed tasks. Looking at all the destruction occurring not only in Gracia, but also around the realms on all the monitors of the control room, a cold chill formed in her core.

“Arkady, what would it take for me to visit the moon?”

It took several seconds before Arkady turned towards her. The time delay caused by his distance was more than a little disconcerting.

“I told you this is only temporary, until it is safe for me to return to Gracia. If we connected you here, it wouldn’t look any different than where you are. You’ve already seen the external displays,” he said.

She shook her head. “No. I meant really go to the moon. You said it was possible.”

Her eyes moved from screen to screen; tears were now truly running down the side of her real head back in her room. Try as she might she couldn’t move her hand to wipe them dry.

Mandy and the Daggers are probably staring right at me. They’ll know it isn’t going well.

She forced herself to keep a businesslike attitude as she scanned each monitor. There were many civilian bodies in her view; thankfully, most of the dead were Alliance soldiers or Nhia-Samri. The one man she wanted with all her heart to find, Lord Dohma, was not present.

The God, Lord Pualla, had pushed his defense out into the city. Vesta followed his fighting on the monitors. Pualla was leading a dozen Daggers, who ran directly into a pack of Nhia-Samri. Lord Pualla threw his staff in the air and drew his curved swords. The staff hung just above him as he engaged a pair of Nhia-Samri. The Nhia-Samri combined their attacks, trying to make contact with Lord Pualla, but he parried them.

Lord Pualla swung his blade at one opponent, who managed to parry just in time, but there was an explosive crack of thunder, and the Nhia-Samri was thrown back at least five feet to slam into a wall. The other one sliced at Lord Pualla’s exposed arm. He pulled his hand back just far enough to catch the blades on his red bracers. With a motion so fast it didn’t show clearly, he swung his arm up and around to thrust his own curved blade through the Nhia-Samri.

With his direct opponents neutralized, Lord Pualla sheathed his blades and reached up, grabbing his staff. Pulling it down, he stepped back, holding the staff before him like a bow. He motioned as if drawing an arrow, and an arrow made of shimmering gold and blazing with red fire appeared in his grasp. He let it fly. It slammed into another Nhia-Samri, who fell dead with the burning arrow skewering him clean through. As the warrior fell, the arrow fell apart into sparkling dust, and was gone by the time the body hit the ground.

Lord Pualla called to his warriors and ran, shooting arrows faster than the Nhia-Samri could react. The Daggers and city guards took care of any of the Nhia-Samri Lord Pualla missed or that came from the side alleys. Lord Pualla made a line of dead bodies all the way to the magical gate the Nhia-Samri continued to emerge from like a wave of locusts. He started shooting the glowing focal points of the gate with his fiery arrows until it flashed and was no more.

Vesta replayed the moment of Pualla breaking the magic gate on a side monitor.

“That would be very dangerous.” Arkady’s response finally came; he’d obviously been dealing with some other issues as well as considering her question. Electra felt a twinge of pride — one cycle before, Arkady would’ve dismissed her question without much thought. “We’d have to use a much larger vessel than the one I used for my core and extra communications gear. A ship that size would be hard to hide. Why the sudden interest?”

Still fighting to hold back her tears, Electra said, “Evacuation. If we can’t stop them, we need to go where they can’t.”

Vesta stopped and looked at Arkady. “You were checking on the other worlds. Have you found anything?”

“Other worlds?” Electra asked.

“This isn’t the only world in the universe,” Vesta said. “We were able to make seventeen inhabitable planets like Niya-Yur. Not everyone came here. There are also 1,654 other worlds where you could not survive without magic or technology to preserve your form. We’re also unsure how many other stars might have habitable worlds. This is a much smaller universe than our original one. I don’t think you fully comprehend that thousands of sentient races from two universes worked to save as many worlds, plants, animals, ecosystems, and cultures as they could. Uncounted nonillions died, yet billions were saved. We....”

Arkady started talking, interrupting Vesta, a side effect of the time delay.

“There are no detectable signals, and the Pilum-Gate was shutdown cold a few years after we were put to sleep. They didn’t even leave the Tunnelnet active. Only the shielding and minor systems are operating. If anyone’s still out there, they haven’t been here since we were put to sleep. The only means of communicating between the other planets now is magic. If we start to reactivate the Pilum-Gate, you know that would be noticed.”

“Why would they go to the trouble of a complete cold shutdown of the Pilum-Gate. That’d take years of work.”

Vesta and Electra watched Arkady, waiting for the answer. He paused longer than just the delay. “Niya-Yur is quarantined. Messenger probes were launched to the other worlds with the Imperial order. No details are in these systems.”

“Quarantine.” Vesta started chewing her fingernail. “Why not order medical support? The Empire has never abandoned any protectorate. Why would the Emperor order the capital, with the Imperial family, closed off without assistance?”

Arkady stopped tugging on his beard to wave his hands in the air. “Hell if I know. When I get back to Gracia I’ll check the imperial archive. Oh and Electra, to answer your question, yes, we can evacuate some to the moon. But again, it would give us away.”

Electra stopped making notes of new words to find the definitions for, to stare at both Arkady and Vesta. “If it comes to evacuation, I doubt anyone will care if you’re awake or not.”

One of the displays flashed a picture of Lord Dohma fighting the Nhia-Samri. Electra’s heart jumped to her throat and a tingling feeling bounced around her body with joy. She flung herself at the controls, activating as many monitors as she could control that showed what was going on. “He’s still fighting! Curse that man’s sense of duty! He was supposed to run!”

* * *

Dohma flew over his desk, throwing off his mantle of state. For weeks he’d sweated, wearing the double layer of clothing over armor. At that moment, he was immeasurably glad he had. Cundia drew her weapons as she spun over his desk, landing on the opposite side of him from Orahda.

Lord Pualla practically carried the Imperial Regent, Lord Menthran, personally out of the room down one of the many escape routes to the city. Lord Menthran had a shimmering sword out and Dohma’s last glimpse of his face showed tight-lipped anger at being dragged away like a child.

Good, Lord Pualla will make sure the Imperial regent makes it to the elven patrols. Lord Menthran wouldn’t dare oppose an order by Lord Pualla.

The extra Daggers around the room were already fighting, trying to block the Nhia-Samri from getting through the gates. They were having some success. The other assembly members all looked relatively calm as they and their staff rushed towards one exit or another, avoiding the Nhia-Samri as planned.

Orahda started to move in the direction of the unblocked escape route they’d planned for themselves.

“Not yet,” said Dohma firmly, shaking his head.

“Dohma, you must run,” Orahda said. “This is not the time or place for heroics.”

Dohma ripped the hanging cloth cover from the front of his desk to get at the small shield held under the desk with some break-away leather straps. “I’m commander of the Aelargian Guard first! I shall not flee before ensuring the safety of my fellow rulers. Aid me in getting those we can to safety, then I too shall retreat.”

Cundia smiled. “You owe me another cross.”

Orahda exhaled loudly, but Dohma saw the gleam of pride and purpose in his eyes. Orahda’s face tightened as he examined the situation. Nhia-Samri were coming through the glowing gates rapidly, but only two could cross at a time. The Daggers and guards were managing to hold a line against them, but the defenders’ numbers were dwindling. “If we close these gates, all assembly members will be able to make it to the first checkpoint.” Out of the side of his mouth he added to Cundia, “And no, I don’t. We didn’t shake.”

Dohma smiled and slapped Orahda and then Cundia on the shoulder.

“Time to get to work. We must end this gate first,” he said as he jumped for the nearest gate. Cundia and Orahda were right next to him. “Cundia, help me. Keep them busy and slow the flood. Orahda, do what you must, but close that gate.”

Dohma jumped into the fight. Three Nhia-Samri had managed to get a clear foot inside the room, and a fourth was joining them through the gate. Five Daggers were fighting the three.

Dohma lunged in as Cundia delivered a head blow. The Nhia-Samri blocked both of their attacks. A Dagger thrust in between them, stabbing her all the way through. Dohma didn’t pause, riposting the soon-to-be-dead warrior, who was still trying to kill them before she died.

The fourth was emerging, weapons out. Orahda dove between the feet of the semi-circle of Nhia-Samri, protecting the gateway, rolling forward and then kicking up hard, catching the warrior by surprise in the crotch. Orahda’s kick sent him backward through the glowing gateway, arms flailing.

The wounded Nhia-Samri struck at Cundia slower, allowing Dohma to block the attack while Cundia brought her blade down, cutting off the Nhia-Samri’s hand. The Nhia-Samri fell to her knees and glared at Cundia before finally collapsing.

Dohma didn’t have time to consider much else as another Nhia-Samri brought his blades around in a sweeping onslaught with a scream of rage. Cundia dropped flat on the ground to avoid being hit. Dohma stepped over her to engage in a series of rapid strikes, parries, and ripostes.

Cundia rolled onto her back and swung at the legs of the new assailant, who thrust both his blades at Dohma and jumped almost ten hands high, bringing his armored boots down towards Cundia’s chest. She slapped the ground with her elbow, rolling out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by his weight. Something hit Dohma hard in the back, throwing him forward. To avoid stepping on Cundia, he jumped onto the Nhia-Samri warrior, who managed to get one of his odassi positioned to stab Dohma through the left side of his abdomen. Pain burst through him as he and the warrior went down together.

If I’m not dead yet, I will be if he works that cut wider.

Dohma dropped his sword and grabbed the hand that was holding the blade thrust through him. Fear gave him strength to hold it in place. The Nhia-Samri head slammed into the stone floor with a nice thud, and Dohma was sure the wind was knocked out of the man because he’d landed squarely on top. The man glowered at him through slightly glazed eyes. Nose-to-nose, Dohma glowered back just as intensely. A loud bang, accompanied by a brilliant flash of light, shocked both of them. From their position on the floor, they looked up to see the glowing disk of the gate wink out, leaving the ordinary wall in its place.

A Nhia-Samri screamed and fell to the ground, his eyes wide, because the lower half of his body was on the other side of the closed gate. Blood poured across the floor, out of his upper torso, as he twitched violently and died with a long sigh.

Orahda turned and stomped on the throat of the man under Dohma with such force that his neck flattened. Blood burst from under Orahda’s boot and out of one of the eyes of the warrior.

Gore sprayed onto Dohma’s face as his nostrils filled with its salty odor. The warrior’s body convulsed, and his grip on the odassi finally lessened, but not without first vibrating the sword, causing shivers of pain to threaten Dohma’s consciousness. He clenched his teeth against the pain and concentrated on holding the odassi with all his strength to keep it as stable as possible.

Cundia got back to her feet and pulled the half-torso away. “Oh, Lady! Lord Dohma!” she cried, dropping to her knees next to him.

“It isn’t that bad,” he lied.

Orahda knelt on one knee. “I told you we needed to run.”

He shook his head. “You’re needed, my friend. Go, close the other gates. Worry then about me,” he said through gritted teeth.

Cundia and Orahda looked at the chaos of the assembly chamber, and Orahda’s face hardened. “No. Cundia, aid me.”

They grabbed Dohma by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Pain ripped through him, but he bit his tongue to keep from screaming. Giving them a weak smile, he allowed Cundia to take one arm as Orahda supported him from the other side.

“Come,” Orahda said grimly.

Orahda kicked a desk, sending it flying into another Nhia-Samri, knocking him down. Then he dragged Dohma to where Lothia and Dalpha stood together.

Daggers were pushing the Nhia-Samri back, but it looked like no reinforcements had come in, which meant that an even larger battle must be taking place outside and around the palace.

Dalpha wasn’t fighting. She stood regally and made gestures, causing a green beam of energy to envelope wounded Daggers as they fell. Anyone touched by her power would miraculously stand up, unwounded yet still covered in their own blood.

Lothia was facing a pair of magic gates, sending radiant bursts of white and gold at any warrior coming through them. Her magic blasts exploded, throwing the warriors back through the gates, knocking down others who were trying to force their way in.

As Dohma approached, carried by Orahda and Cundia, a Nhia-Samri jumped at Lothia from the side. She twisted out of the way in a blur of motion and reached out, grabbing his wrist. In a single motion, she flung the man through one of the gates. It was clear that as long as she stood there no one was coming through either gate.

She’s magnificent; I never dreamed to live long enough to see the wife of the All Father Lord Argos in battle.

Orahda pulled Dohma directly to Dalpha, releasing him one step away, letting Cundia balance him. He tried to stand before the mighty deities on his own, but he couldn’t find the strength. His pants felt wet, and he looked down, picking at them with his free hand. He sighed with relief when he realized it was only his blood. Cundia caught his eye and shook her head with an annoyed grunt.

I care not what you think. I swear I’ll not be known for pissing my own pants in battle, especially in front of these beings!

Orahda was glaring, face to face with Dalpha. His grim expression made Dalpha take a half-step back, and his hand snapped out to grab her. When his fingers were two inches from Dalpha’s left arm, lightning cascaded around his hand and around her. It didn’t even slow him. He clamped down on her forearm and pulled her towards him.

How much power does Orahda wield?

“Why have you betrayed the world?”

Lightning continued to dance around Orahda’s arm and Dalpha. She looked down, her eyes watering. “I had no choice. I tried to draw attention, yet none noticed.”

Ripping the bracelet from her wrist, Orahda said, “There is always a choice.”

Dalpha screamed, “No! You’ve killed her!” She fell to her knees, but ended up dangling by the arm Orahda held. Dalpha, Lady of Light, wailed in mourning and defeat.

Orahda held the bracelet up to examine it more closely. His eyes narrowed as he held the Goddess. He squeezed her arm harder, and she whimpered; her other hand shot up, trying to loosen his grip.

Lothia turned to witness the scene, but did nothing to protest the treatment of Dalpha.

Who is Orahda that he can act so?

Orahda’s eyes dropped to the sobbing Goddess. In a hard, commanding voice he pronounced, “Shar-Lumen would not. That you believe such speaks much. First, you will heal Lord Dohma.” He turned, dragging her to Dohma, and released her arm. Dalpha fell at Dohma’s feet, still wailing.

Orahda’s brows furrowed; his mouth tightened, showing the tendons in his jaw. He turned to Lothia and then glanced around the room. “I’m tired of hiding, and I’ll have the answers.”

Dalpha pulled herself up, tears running down her face. “Then I will do what I must,” she whimpered.

She concentrated, touching the blade protruding from Dohma’s torso. Sparks flew at her from the sword, and she yelped in pain, yanking her hand back.

She looked at Dohma, and he saw, deep in those large eyes, something unexpected behind the anguish and despair: anger. He felt a surge of energy pass between them. Dalpha’s eyes changed from misery to a determination Dohma couldn’t understand.

“We shall stop him,” she whispered under her breath. Orahda’s eyes locked onto her as she wiped the tears from her face and glared at the blade, lips flattening to a tight line.

“Hold him tightly,” she snapped at Cundia.

Cundia shifted her grip to hold him with both arms. Dalpha didn’t wait or give warning. She remained on her knees, but moved to face Dohma, her back rigidly straight. Dohma felt her presence grow.

She braced one hand on his stomach next to the wound and grabbed the blade by the hilt. Both of her hands flared with a golden light, and lightning from the sword danced over her hand and arm.

Pain flared throughout his body, and it was as if her hand on his stomach was a white-hot brand. He could feel the blade trying to twist in her hand to kill him. The blade’s energies spread out into hundreds of barbed needles, ripping his flesh away with them.

As Dalpha ripped the sword free, Dohma’s blood cascaded out into the air, raining down onto her and Lothia. She finished the motion by releasing the blade, which flew away, followed by droplets of blood, to bounce across the floor.

Agony seared through his body as his muscles vibrated against the onslaught of the furious energies Dalpha poured into him.

Dalpha twisted on her knees, shifting to his side. Her hands clamped down on the entry and exit wounds.

The world narrowed, and he became only the pain and a blazing fire that spread over him. And then, as suddenly as it came, it left.

Dohma felt detached, with no control over his own body. His muscles relaxed, and he would’ve fallen if not for Cundia’s strong support. He also realized he was still screaming, but there was no air in his lungs. He gulped the air back in, trying not to throw up.

Deep in his mind, he heard a soft whisper and knew it was Dalpha. “Your spirit is strong. Use this gift well. Forgive me.”

Dalpha slumped to the floor and rolled over. She was completely drained and pale, but she was breathing.

Cundia lowered Dohma to a sitting position on the floor. The remaining pain drained away, and his heart slowed. Stars still floated around him, and Dohma blinked, trying to focus on the situation.

Only one gate remained open. Orahda was leading a pack of twenty Daggers, fighting in a close semi-circle around it. The Nhia-Samri were trying to break through the line. Although Orahda and the Daggers were bleeding from their wounds, they fought on just as hard as the enemy.

The smell of blood was overwhelming. It steamed and flowed around the room from hundreds of bodies. In places, the bodies formed dams, the blood pooled almost two hands deep. In other areas rivers of blood wound their way out the doors.

Dalpha lay next to Dohma on the dais, above the bloodline. Lothia floated nearby, and her eyes squinted as she returned to the fighting with magic and sword. All who attempted to attack her were cut down or thrown away.

Many additional warriors burst into the room to join in the assault on Lothia. More rushed to the gate, pushing the Daggers back. As Dohma watched, three of the Daggers were cut down, allowing more attackers to enter the room through the remaining magical gate.

Dohma shook his head to clear the fog and pushed himself up. Standing still, he let the pain echo through his body from the stab wound, but it felt like it was nearly healed. He picked up a sword, grabbed a dead guard’s dagger from her belt, and moved towards the gate.

Cundia leapt in front of him. She held a restraining hand up, looking him in the eyes, and then she dropped it with a sigh. “You cover me.”

Dohma nodded, not trusting his voice yet. As they ran, he felt increasingly better, as his body finished recovering. There was no more time for self-contemplation.

Almost instantly, Cundia’s blades cut down a Nhia-Samri. Orahda grunted at their arrival. Dohma sensed himself detaching from the horrific scene. He had to use every ounce of his long years of training to fight.

As his vision widened, his sight filled with not only the warriors in front of him but also the path of bodies leading to this position from the last gate Orahda had closed. Orahda fought as the arrowhead, with Cundia on one side and Dohma on the other. Only eleven out of nearly three hundred Daggers remained with Orahda; two other pockets of fighting held about as many Daggers and guards. Hundreds of fallen warriors covered in gleaming blood made the hallowed hall of the Duianna Alliance Assembly into a macabre painting.

If it wasn’t for Orahda, we would’ve already lost this battle. His blades danced in shimmering waves of death, blocking every attack at him and cutting or stabbing any warrior who stood before him. Their circle of soldiers closed the distance to the gate in steady but difficult steps.

They were almost in position for Orahda to destroy the gate when Dohma’s heart sank and a small groan escaped his lips before he clenched his jaw tightly shut. Two squads of Nhia-Samri rushed into the room, through the main door, and headed straight for their position. Behind them, another group of at least three more squads, covered in blood and led by a tall woman in red-enameled battle armor, raced in.

The woman glanced around the room and then pointed to Lothia. “Take her!”

Before they were assailed from the rear, Dohma yelled, “Defensive circle!”

Cundia, Orahda, and the remaining defenders joined Dohma, standing back to back. Surrounded, they fought the desperate battle of fighters who knew they weren’t going to survive the day, yet dared to hope they might.

Dohma’s wider perception allowed him to witness every barely parried blade and frantic counter-attack. Several cuts burned painfully on Dohma’s arms, face, and torso. At his side, Cundia and even Orahda had similar wounds. He cast about for some brilliant strategy that might help. They were overwhelmed, and he knew there was no escape. Two more Daggers fell, either dead or near death.

The light from the gate rippled, attracting Dohma’s attention. A lone figure stepped through.

Lords and Ladies help us, Gracia is lost! Dohma realized that his plea was of no avail. The Lords and Ladies were already trying, and failing. There on the dais stood Lady Lothia herself under heavy attack, trying to protect Lady Dalpha. Lord Pualla had already abandoned the hall to give protection to the fleeing rulers.

Dohma’s heart rate doubled, tears burning in his eyes, and a painful lump in his throat made him swallow. The tall, muscular warrior wore grey and black armor, which flared dramatically from his heavy shoulders. He stood a full hand taller than Dohma. The new warrior did not have his swords drawn, yet Dohma’s heart and soul screamed at him to run instead of challenging him.

This is Shar-Lumen! This last gate must go directly to his fabled impenetrable fortress, Hisuru Amajoo.

Shar-Lumen’s violet eyes took in the room. He moved towards the dais, where Lothia was holding off a ring of Nhia-Samri with a shield that surrounded her and the collapsed form of Dalpha.

They pounded on the shield, slowly collapsing it. She gestured time and time again. Each gesture produced a powerful burst of lightning that burned and threw a warrior violently back to land in the pools of blood that filled the chamber. But they continued to come in through side doors to join the onslaught on the Goddess. The woman warrior was also there, pounding on Lothia’s shields and dodging every attack Lothia threw at her.

“Lumen!” Orahda’s thick orotund voice cut as sharp as his sword through the sounds of battle. The hall’s acoustics added resonance, elevating it to the very voice of legend described in dozens of stories Dohma grew up listening to.

All combatants were stunned, and looked around for the source of that call.

Shar-Lumen stopped in the middle of a deep pool of blood, his head spinning back to look at who had called out. As his eyes landed on Orahda, his magnificent face contorted into a mask of rage and hatred.

Without any motion, Lumen’s swords were in his hands, fingers clenched so tightly every muscled fiber stood out. In the peculiar silence of the room, the leather grips creaked as loudly as a falcon’s shriek. “YOU!”

Lumen dove at Orahda, knocking aside one of his warriors who stood between them. Blinding flashes of light strobed as Lumen’s blades clashed with Orahda’s weapons. Battles resumed, and the Nhia-Samri fought harder than ever, refreshed and confident in their victory.

A scream pulled Dohma’s attention from the two fighting legends. On the platform, Lothia’s shield had collapsed, and six Nhia-Samri were beating her with the hilts of their blades as she fought back.

The female warrior had sheathed one blade and was using it, with its polished scabbard, like a club. Strike after strike landed on Lothia’s body and head, making her yelp in pain as she tried to protect herself with her bare arms. Lothia’s eyes bulged, and she spun around, trying to fend off the blows, but there was no escape.

Surrounded by nearly a dozen Nhia-Samri, Dohma cried out, “Move to aid Lothia!”

He tried to shift the ever-decreasing circle of Daggers towards the dais as additional warriors punched through the Hisuru Amajoo gate and the hall doors.

Dohma’s legs screamed in pain from multiple cuts and fatigue, and his arms were no better. Still they fought. Only a couple of Nhia-Samri could engage them at a time, and the remaining Daggers were their equals in combat. The problem was that they had the odassi, which gave them the advantage.

Lothia fell under the onslaught, curling tightly into a fetal position, covering her head with her arms as best she could. They continued to beat her after she had fallen.

Dohma wasn’t sure if he could believe his eyes. Lothia was bleeding from many wounds, and her blood emerged the color of dark amber. As it flowed, it turned a clear pink, running over the dais, being smeared and mixed with the blood of others.

A loud howl echoed through the chamber. Hundreds of Daggers rushed into the room from almost every entryway. Duke, supported by at least three teams, forced his way into the room. The Nhia-Samri fought hard, making Duke struggle for every step. He had dozens of wounds, and on his left shoulder, his skin hung open, exposing the muscle beneath. Duke fought on regardless, using every trick he had.

Nhia-Samri warriors continued to rush in, but with the Dagger reinforcements joining the fight, Dohma felt his spirits rise.

We may yet survive this day.

Dohma brought his blades around and slipped past the defenses of one man, cutting his throat. As he fell, Dohma checked on Orahda’s fight. Shar-Lumen had cut Orahda across one shoulder, and blood was pouring from a wound in his side. He was favoring his right side, trying to keep Shar-Lumen from getting a clear strike.

Shar-Lumen glanced at Duke, and a frown formed as he breathed out through his nose. He ducked low and spun, kicking Orahda so hard that he was thrown, tumbling over some desks, which collapsed onto him.

Instead of digging Orahda out, Shar-Lumen spun and ran towards the dais, scooping up an abandoned odassi from the floor. He leapt the last several feet to land on the platform. Lumen spun around, facing Duke, holding the odassi high above his head with both hands over Dalpha. “You’re too late, Duke! Learn what it means to cowardly attack mine!”

Duke, Cundia, and Dohma screamed in unison as Shar-Lumen brought the blade down with so much force that it sounded like a massive hammer hitting an anvil.

The odassi went through Dalpha’s chest and into the stone below her. The shock must have snapped her into consciousness, because she cried out and grasped the blade. Lightning burst from it, down her arms and across her body, making her vibrate. As fast as the lightning started, it stopped. Dalpha’s arms dropped, motionless. Her head faced Dohma, eyes open, unmoving, her pupils expanded to fill most of her eyes. Lady Dalpha, Lady of Light and Nae-Rae, was dead.

Rage tore through Dohma’s mind. Lady Dalpha, who had given immeasurably to the world, had saved him, using so much power that she’d passed out, helpless to defend herself. Because of that sacrifice she now lay pinned to the stone platform by a Nhia-Samri odassi. She’d had no chance.

His soul screamed out for vengeance, his vision blurring with a red haze. Dohma kicked the warrior before him out of the way. Ignoring that the man flew backwards six feet before collapsing in a pile, Dohma ran, roaring, for the dais. Waves of blood sprayed all around as he cut through the crimson liquid pools as through air.

Shar-Lumen picked up Lothia by one arm as a parent might lift a broken doll. He ripped the silver medallion off her neck, throwing it into the pooled blood on the floor.

As Dohma raced nearer, Shar-Lumen produced a golden collar, which he snapped onto Lothia’s neck before tossing her aside to the Nhia-Samri warriors led by the woman in red armor.

Dohma leapt the last few feet to the platform, his blades held above his head. As he landed, he brought them down on Shar-Lumen’s head, all his strength focused on that single action. The attack should have cut Shar-Lumen in two, except that he had drawn and parried in a single fluid motion.

A brilliant spark of lightning exploded from their blades, illuminating Shar-Lumen’s silver skin, making it look like liquid mercury. Nose to nose with Shar-Lumen, Dohma cried out his rage at being denied revenge. Shar-Lumen’s violet eyes took him in, measuring him as a collector might evaluate a rare prize. As they stared at each other, Dohma’s vision fogged in a red haze, making Shar-Lumen’s eyes appear pitch black.

Dohma screamed again, letting the fury take him, giving him speed and strength like nothing he had ever experienced. His blades and body moved as one, faster than he thought. The entire world forgotten, his mind would accept nothing but killing Shar-Lumen.

Daggers and guards continued to flood into the room, their forces beginning to push the Nhia-Samri back. The pitch of the battle started to change to the sparking concussions of Dohma’s and Shar-Lumen’s blades. The fight began to tip in favor of the assembly’s forces. Duke barked and yelled obscenities as he crushed and mangled those who blocked his progress. Ignoring all else, Lumen and Dohma determinedly fought each other as the Nhia-Samri tried to stop Duke. Dozens more on both sides died each moment as the battle raged on. The Nhia-Samri did not falter, even as their numbers dwindled.

Shar-Lumen’s face remained tranquil except for the corners of his mouth, which became tighter as they fought. They spun, kicked, struck, parried, and riposted. Anyone, Nhia-Samri or Dagger, that strayed too close to their mortal combat whether by design or accident, they kicked or batted away as if mere insects.

Dohma’s attacks continuously pushed forward. Shar-Lumen’s eyes never wavered from his as they fought. Dohma’s perceptions tunneled until there were only the two of them in the entire universe, which was too small to allow the other to continue to exist.

He drove Shar-Lumen back until he was near the wall. Shar-Lumen nodded ever so slightly. “The day is yours, Lord Dohma Uriosal. I will not underestimate you again.”

He performed a rapid series of attacks, forcing Dohma to step backwards for the first time since the beginning of their combat. Instead of following up on his advantage, Shar-Lumen spun and dove sideways through the remaining portal, which vanished, leaving only the blank wall in its place.

A primal shriek escaped Dohma as he pounded the wall where the portal had been, with his blades chipping away large chunks of stone. The fury finally ebbed, and he bent over, breathing deeply. Dohma straightened and turned, lifting his swords to continue the battle only to find the assembly chamber filled four hands deep with blood, bodies, and a hundred Daggers, staring at him with open mouths and wide eyes.

Lady Dalpha’s body was sprawled on the dais like a tragic sacrifice, the odassi blade pinning her to the rock. Her clear pink blood ran through the dark red of the dead, as rivers through tilled farm fields under a colorful sunset.

Shivering, Duke stood over her body. With his head bowed, bleeding from dozens of wounds, he mumbled, “How many more, Lothia? How many more?”

Lady Lothia was nowhere to be seen.

Cundia and Orahda approached him, supporting each other, their own blood adding to the deep pools of spent life.

Orahda shook his head, unbelieving. “My Lord, I believe I was incorrect in my estimate of when I needed to start wearing armor for our sparring.”