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Chapter 17: The Seedwind
Part 1
Boyd had lost all his authoritative steam, and was content to escort Frix to a rooftop terrace so he could see what was going on. The towering mass of the pyre dominated the view, soaring up and up—the biggest single thing Frix had ever seen, so tall its tip was lost in the thick mist. A tremendous red light came from deep within, finding all the holes in the structure and escaping in a thousand, mist-lit beams.
He thought it strange that here he was, seeing the thing he’d been traveling days to find, yet there was no revelation. No answer or ‘aha!’ moment. Perhaps this light wasn’t exactly right. It was big—the structure was enormous to be sure—but it wasn’t the same bigness as before. No, that was only accessible through someone special.
Frix spotted Atrocity slip into the round building that supported the pyramid, and nodded to himself.
Then tore his eyes away from the glowing mountain of wood, and tried to get the lay of the land. He noted that the fog had obscured the edge of the southern treeline. This wasn’t a good thing for the witches, the Greatsparker force would make good use of the concealment.
Across the open area, the defenders hustled to and fro, in little groups.
“You have defensive training?” Frix said, watching one cluster climb onto a dwelling.
“We have old drills,” Boyd said. “We practice maybe once or twice a year. They’re mostly designed for threats from wild animals.”
From behind them, “Wild animals, Falsesparkers. Not much difference there.”
Frix turned. A young man had joined them on the terrace. He stared at Frix. Something about him felt familiar.
“Turner,” said Boyd.
“You tried to kill my sister, Falsesparker.”
Frix was confused for a moment, wondering if Atrocity had told this guy about their meeting along the hopjack trail. How he was a moment away from taking the shortsharp to her. Then the voice registered.
“You were the one on the bridge,” he said.
“She says to trust you, but she’s got a bad judge of character, I say.” Turner took a step closer. He resembled Atrocity, that was for sure. Darker hair, but just as thick and wild. Large dark green eyes, sharpish face.
“Look, I’m just as rotted as you guys are if the triads win,” said Frix. “I ran from my Seedwind, deceived a sentry, tipped your people off. I’ll be hung or worse.”
“Good, I hope so.”
“But—”
Then it came. Gaa-ruuuHRM! Gaa-ruuuuuuuHRM! The old warhorns—usually sounded only when a camp was ready to mobilize. It chilled him, hearing it blast hard and low from out there in the mist. He saw it sink even deeper into Boyd and Turner, who had probably never heard such a thing in their lives.
“Torch guide me, what in the world was that?” Boyd said, barely audible.
“They’re coming now,” Frix said.
“Wait, where’s Zoey?” Turner said.
“She, ahh!” Boyd grabbed at his head. Frix turned to see them both stagger and wince.
“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” he said.
From out over the town, another series of horns, closer. Yelling and whooping too.
“Mindtether, something’s wrong with theahh-ooww,” Turner shut his eyes. “‘City said this could happen.”
Frix looked back out, trying to see if he could spot the advance units. All the witches he could see seemed rattled as well—before they had been poised, alert. Now, like these two, they were bent, distracted, in pain.
“I’ve still got some, look, look.” Turner projected a little light in front of Boyd. “Boyd, just focus, it’s still there. Come on, look at me.”
There was a yell from out below. Frix traced it, and bit his lower lip as one of the rooftop witches clutched at their chest. The end of a crossdart bolt stuck out of them. Several more volleyed at the same group. They fared better this time, managing to deflect most of the barrage with their witchy powers. But one found someone’s shoulder and they fell, bouncing off the roof and onto the ground. Frix backed away as he saw a swarm of his people descend on the witch, sharps drawn, cudgels raised. It was time to leave.
“You, Falsesparker!” Turner grabbed his arm.
Frix went for his sharp, then realized it wasn’t there. He pulled free. “What? What?”
“‘City said to get to the bay if the mindtether was compromised,” said Turner.
“Yes.”
“It’s compromised. You’re helping us get out. Let’s go.”
“I need my weapons,” demanded Frix.
Turner stared him down for a minute, then there was a cracking blast as something that sounded a lot like rockpunch exploded on the edge of town. Screams too. Boyd stared out, gaping.
“Boyd, get his toys. We’re finding my sisters and getting out, now!”
They ran back into the building and down some stairs, stopping for a short second while Boyd went into a side room to get Frix’s shortsharp and cloudwood cudgel.
“Don’t make me regret this, Falsesparker,” said Turner, as Frix strapped them on.
Frix ignored him and followed them out a back door. The north side of town appeared calm. Just a few lodgings, some fields, and a different kind of treeline—very smart, orderly and uniform. There was a clean break in it, some ten trees wide. Turner pointed.
“Wood bay’s down that path. We need to find Zoey-Lee first.”
“Two minutes until the centre is overrun, by the look of it,” noted Frix. “You can go look for this Zoey-Lee. I’m leaving now.”
Turner rounded on him. “We stick together until we find my sisters.”
Now the scent of burning timber permeated the damp air. There would probably be some units already positioned ahead of them. But Turner did not seem like we was going to be swayed. And Atrocity was not yet back.
“Then come on,” Frix said, and stalked along the edge of the building, back towards the town. Grey jets of smoke puffed from one side of the great pile of wood. If the pyre went up, they might have half a chance. He saw no fighters, but silent red flashes illuminated the distant mist like crimson lightning, coming from the area with all the little square dwellings. The metallic sounds of clashing followed. Frix readied his cudgel and advanced down the side of the hall, wishing for his slinger. He heard Turner following behind. Hopefully that would let anyone nearby know that Frix wasn’t a rogue attacker.
He reached the front corner, and got a better view of the town centre. The smoke from the pyre thickened. There was crowd of witches near the entrance of the temple.
“There, look!” Turner said.
Atrocity emerged from the stone cylinder. She conferred with someone in the crowd before racing towards the hall, towards them.
Then a berserking unit emerged from around a dwelling. Frix recognized the hulking lead from one of the lesser triads. He slammed two stumpsplitters against his breastplate and let loose a guttural roar.
The unit charged at the crowd.
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