The Sovereign Melody's hum was deep and low, like the rumbling of an elephant. The slumbering of the earth. It eclipsed the moon as it flew overhead, as high as the plane allowed it, before like a hawk in slow motion it dipped down towards the earth, descending faster and faster towards the center of the plane. Oshya:de below were scattering, along with their metahuman allies. They disappeared into the forest, running as fast as they were able to, dragging their children, or the elderly.
The forest would not save them. The natives burned red on the heat map displayed on the main viewscreen.
“We must be quick,” Valm said, “Send a strike team down.”
“Aye, sir,” Old Scar said. He had moved from his guildmaster's side to man one of the consoles, and punched in the order. One of the arrow-shaped Tlakto-class vessels took off from one of the Melody's hangars, whipping around in freefall for a moment before its thrusters took to life, and it rocketed towards the ground. Twenty Pagan Chorus guildmembers were stowed inside, ready to take the natives needed to re-seed.
They would need ten, now. They had learned of the mysterious escape of their natives from the brig only a few hours ago. More work to be done, before they could be rid of this place.
“Sir,” Kathen said, manning sensors, “Metahumans on the horizon. Coming from the south.”
“How many?” Valm asked.
Kathen took a quick sweep.
“Thousands,” he said, “Thousands of them.”
Valm grimaced.
“Turn guns on them,” he said, “Wipe them from the night.”
“Aye, sir,” Etnoka, the weapons officer, said. The officer's violet skin had drained lavender. Good, he wasn't the only one nervous then. Kathen punched in a scanning solution to isolate a more specific number to feed into Truthspeaker.
The entire time, his mind buzzed.
“They told them,” Merry whispered, “The natives told them where we were going.”
Kathen felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed, but it did not go down.
“Let's just hope we can keep our wits about us,” he said.
He heard the churning of weapons come online. The Sovereign Melody lurched with the grace of a tectonic plate to face the metahumans. They were only a few miles away now, flying in the sky, or rushing on the ground.
Kathen's jaw set.
***
Luminary was on the ground level.
A veil was over her, cast by Acruma the Tricking Stone, who had cast the spell over the entire vicinity. Mister Meaning attended to Luminary, a rifle in hand. High above, they could see the Sovereign Melody turn and open fire on those metahumans in the sky. Puffs of blue smoke popped in the air as unlucky Warriors were blasted out of the night, to fall to an ignoble death in the forest below. One of them caught aflame as she fell, a meteor of flesh and screams.
Meaning swallowed down his fear.
He could hear the Oshya:de in the distance. Screams at the sight of the starship floating like a spectre above. Luminary had been tipped off about Pagan Chorus coming here, to this sight, where thousands of Oshya:de were fleeing through the forest.
It made sense.
The High Federation often took specimens, when they were glassing a plane. Survivors, to tell stories and remember.
For they hoped that the memory of glass and ash would extinguish all thoughts of rebellion.
(How wrong they were.)
“They're following your orders,” Mister Meaning said, “They're keeping their distance. For the most part.”
Another metahuman ignited. Powder Keg, whose own power had turned against her. She should have been on the ground, with other metahumans who were positioning to cover Luminary. The old woman's eyes were closed, and her hands trembled as she sculpted her power.
Light streamed through the forest in rivers. Pulled from every torch and leftover daytime. Every glowing metahuman still loyal to New Ludaya was contributing, pouring their own power into the flowing construct.
It was a wonder that the High Federation had not noticed yet.
But, then, a number of the Warriors were also magicians, or possessed powers that hid and concealed. Roughly a hundred of them, centered around the Tricking Stone, were weaving spellwork or metahuman abilities to keep Luminary and her weapon hidden.
Almost a quarter of the New Ludayan army assaulting the Sovereign Melody were dedicated to this part of the battle. The rest were in the sky, or getting into position on the ground below.
Luminary was chanting to herself.
“In the Age before the Brothers and Lover, there was a time when the High Federation had taken the shipnation of Armagest for themselves.The Alu'eer known as Naru Nalan dragged Armagest to the holy city of Alu Alay, and there he visited horrors upon the metahumans who lived there.”
Not prayers, for Luminary had lost religion long ago. Not magic incantations, for she had not the mind for such things.
“There were two brothers who could not stand to see their nation throttled so,” Luminary continued, and she grit her teeth for a moment, her hands twitched with arthritic pain, “The first was the elder brother, whom we know now as High King Coral. The second was his younger brother, the artistic Archaic Mosaic.”
History lessons. Folktales that Luminary had memorized long ago, with Shimmer, in those days when the two dreamed of nation and were of one mind.
“High King Coral began a rebellion. He started first with assaulting the tendrils that bound his family's ship to Alu Alay. Sharpened, hardened coral, magically made strong as Valdorian steel, tore and scraped through that which chained his home and his people.”
The light shined, and the night of New Ludaya burned away in a false dawn.
“He forged a path for his people. And in doing so, made Armagest an eternal enemy to the High Federation.”
***
Truthspeaker spoke. Valm listened to her for a few moments, tilting his head.
He nodded.
“Get me Rhunea,” he said, “Get me Dicaeopolis.”
The two of them were on the bridge in moments, courtesy of one of Rhunea's spells. Valm gestured for them to approach his chair, pointing out specific parts on the viewscreen.
“Truthspeaker's algorithms are detecting fluctuations used by magical spells congruent to the Shade-Imit Paradigm and the Empire of Clazmonya,” he said, “Can you sense anything?”
“Clazmonya,” Dicaeopolis said, and he grimaced, “Haven't visited there in quite a while. Nasty business, but...”
He closed his eyes, and his pupils flickered through his eyelids for a few moments.
“Yes,” he said, “I do... illusionary magic. Shadow magic. Some of the metahumans down there will have nightmares tonight. If they survive, of course.”
Rhunea was staring at the viewscreen.
“I would....” she murmured, “I would need to get down to investigate. My magic is tied to nature.”
“Of course,” Valm said, “You'll join the strike teams we're sending down there. You too, Dicaeopolis. Kathen.”
Kathen drew up from his place at the sensor array.
“Aye, sir,” he said.
Old Scar took Kathen's place at the console, patting him on the shoulder.
“Get a few of them for me,” his weapons instructor said, “A few ears, eh?”
“Eh,” Kathen said, though he was not as enthused. He joined Dicaeopolis and Rhunea as the three of them left the room. Another whispered spell, and Rhunea warped them down towards one of the hangars. Pagan Chorus members were loading onto ships. A few fighters were already screaming off into the night in pursuit of flying metahumans. The sky was alight with neon plasma bursts and metahuman powers.
“We won't take a ship down,” Rhunea said, “Too risky, with all of the flak.”
She called a few soldiers who were approaching one of the ships to her. They made for ten.
Kathen checked his plasma rifle one last time. His wrist-bound whip. His raysword. Merry already was feeding him information about the situation below, a neverending stream of whispers and comments and images.
A few teams had already been sent down to engage the metahuman threat. By teleportation or by landing craft.
There were already casualty reports.
***
The strike teams came down on the same arrow-shaped ships.
Only one at first, but then as the New Ludayans began their assault on the Sovereign Melody, more belched forth, flanked by fighters. The night sky above lit up with plasma and dead metahumans, with steel and with smoldering Fedtek carcasses.
But a few managed to land amidst the scattered Oshya:de.
And Federation soldiers emerged.
Pagan Chorus in name only, for the only thing that truly separated them from the High Federation's military was the addition of the silver guild badge situated beneath the golden four-hands-clasped-in-unity. A single metal bar, depicting a man, woman, and a small goblin, bowing towards the hands above.
In all else, they were High Federation marines. White power armor. Heavy plasma rifles, their faces veiled by helmet and black visors. They opened fire on the fleeing Oshya:de, and now the forest too was alight with neon flashes of red and green. In a moment, they were on the ground, in the clearing that had once been the Site of Settled Peace.
A few metahumans, trained in firearms, took cover behind trees just before the clearing. They returned fire with the stolen guns that Joe's team had retrieved from Father Mountain. One of the fifteen soldiers from the ship went down. Another was struck in the chest, only protected by a fatal blow by his armor, an azure stain blooming on his breastplate.
He was speared, a moment later, by a lance of pure heat.
Becenti had stayed with the Oshya:de. While the rest of his guild was doing the other part of this operation, he was here. Heat rippled off of him, collected from the hastily erected campfires of the night and excess body heat from those who could spare it.
He unleashed the rest of the heat as a wave towards the soldiers. Heat alone would not be enough for them, but at the last moment they sharpened and took shape into more spears, firing like flechette rounds at the High Federation soldiers.
Uni was with him, her rifle raised. She plugged another as they tried to rush behind the ship for cover.
The arrow-shaped ship took off again. Becenti let it go, as it left the strike team exposed. They were still firing on the treelines, the Oshya:de having scattered into the forest.
High above, Becenti could make out darker silhouettes in the night sky. More ships.
Screams in the night, as teleportation spells activated, and strike teams warped in.
“Time to wrap this up,” he murmured to Uni.
Uni nodded, signaling.
Wavemaker took point now from the east. He slammed a fist against the earth, which rippled towards the soldiers, breaking into a shower of dirt and debris upon them, crashing down and carrying them into the forest as though the land were water.
Oshya:de hiding in the forest were upon them in moments. They wrenched away Fedtek weaponry. They opened fire on the downed soldiers, flashes of red and green that died down as the guildfolk stopped moving.
They collected weapons. One of them peeled off the helmet, and took it as his own.
More strike teams were moving down. The body was littered with Oshya:de bodies.
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Becenti wasn't sure how many living had been taken yet.
He slipped into the forest with Uni, Wavemaker, and the Oshya:de.
***
The world breathed a green sigh.
And then they were on the ground.
Kathen and the soldiers took aim. Dicaeopolis's fingers danced with electricity. They covered Rhunea, who smelled of spring and fresh fruits, her cloak fluttering from a sourceless wind for a few moments, before it died down. The doe-headed woman opened her eyes, looking around.
They heard the distant sound of battle. Explosions and bursts above the forest canopy. There were no other signs, for the wildlife of the plane were silent, as though they knew the fate that was coming for them.
Then, she pushed this away.
There was work to be done.
Rhunea laid a palm against the loam. The magic and metahuman abilities extended to the world around them, but below?
Some of them did. The metahuman powers, at least, were twisted in such a way as roots. Someone could hide people using tendrils of night given form. A powerful being, indeed, but they were using their power defensively. To hide whatever was being done here.
But the magic itself was only on a ground level. It hid specific points in the forest.
Like...
“Rivers,” she whispered to herself, “I can work with this. Dicaeopolis, make a ball of light.”
“'Course,” the satyr brought a hand, and the electricity pooled into his palm, sparking and popping into a will-o'-the-wisp. One that immediately pulled away from him as though tugged by a magnet and into the forest.
“Follow me,” Rhunea said, “But walk where I walk.”
She started pursuing the ball of light. The others went after her, in a line, matching her movements, where she walked, or jumped, at times, as though avoiding mines that only she could see.
Rhunea guided them further and further from the main fighting. Deeper into the forest, and it was Dicaeopolis who first noted that the woods around him were strange.
“No sounds,” he said, “No whispers. Nothing.”
“Makes sense,” Kathen murmured beside him, “Not too many people will want to draw attention to themselves.”
“Ah, but think outside of this, my young friend,” Dicaeopolis said, “This silence, it is magical in nature. Observe.”
He batted a hoof against the trunk of a tree.
No sound.
“Magic,” Kathen said.
“Silencing spells, and lots of them,” Dicaeopolis said, “It's a wonder we're able to speak at all. Which means-”
“No mental metahuman,” Kathen said, “At least, none that's being used here.”
“They need oral communication,” Dicaeopolis agreed, “So that part of the spell's been left out.”
“Quiet,” Rhunea said, “Look.”
The ball of light was still floating, like the end of a tunnel, ahead of them. It drifted towards a clearing-
And then abruptly blinked out.
Dicaeopolis tilted his head.
“Odd,” he whispered.
“Not odd,” Rhunea said, “Not at all. There's a metahuman ability that allows one to camouflage themselves. Combine this with spells that disrupt scanners on the electromagnetic spectrum, and one that scrambles biosigns, and we have a hidden place to store power for Luminary.”
She suppressed a shiver.
If Luminary was down here...
She swallowed.
“Alright,” she said, “We need to disrupt the spell. Get ready.”
“How so?” Kathen asked.
“The easiest way to eliminate the caster,” Rhunea said, “Or, in this case, the casters. My primary concern is the metahuman using the veiling ability. We need to find them, and eliminate them. Kate, you'll be doing that portion.”
“Right,” Kathen said, “Merry, start running algorithms.”
“On it,” Merry said.
“Dicaeopolis, we're going to overload the spells,” Rhunea said, “Get me a scanner.”
One of the soldiers came forward, handed the doe-headed woman the scanner. She looked to Kathen.
“Merry,” she said, “Would you do the honors?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Merry said, and Kathen felt part of her leave him, to enter into the scanner and start running her own numbers.
He had done something like this before. A quick interruption of the spell that jammed the sensors of the Sovereign Melody. Then a valid bioscan of the area. A snapshot, one that Merry would be able to use to triangulate the likely position of the veiling metahuman.
Once they were out, the Sovereign Melody's firing solutions would be able to mark patterns into the forest, and start a barrage.
“Alright, my dear, I'm ready,” Dicaeopolis said. Lightning was pulsing at his fingertips.
“As one,” Rhunea said.
She pointed her staff at the forest clearing. Dicaeopolis thrust his palm forward.
At first, there was nothing. The satyr chanted to himself a magic incantation. Rhunea simply closed her eyes, falling to her knees, her boots sinking into the earth as though she were in quicksand.
And then, the air in the clearing rippled, shook, and broke.
For just the slightest moments.
“Scanning,” Merry said, “Alright, I got it.”
Images appeared in Kathen's mind. A top down view of the forest, with red spots noting the actual positions of metahumans.
A cunning play.
One of the red blips switched green.
“That one,” Merry said, “I'm sure of it.”
“What makes you say that?” Kathen asked.
“It's close to a major cluster of them,” Merry said, “But off on its own. But it's also in a central location, so they can spread their power over the surrounding forest. There are encampments of metahumans around them, and if we assume Luminary's in the central cluster, and those encampments are producing light for her, then they would appear as rivers.”
“Right,” Kathen said, “And that position would cover it all.”
“They probably have protection,” Merry said.
“Of course they will,” Kathen said. He turned to Rhunea and Dicaeopolis, “Do your magic thing. I'll be back.”
“Be careful,” Rhunea said.
“Save one for me, eh?” Dicaeopolis said.
A few of the soldiers split off with Kathen as he rushed into the forest. They dashed through the trees, dodged past branches and roots that rambled on the forest floor.
The central position that the metahuman had situated themselves in was near a wide, powerful river situated within the forest. The sounds of rushing water the color of black marble overtook the sounds of battle, save for only the loudest of explosions. A bricklaid bridge had been erected over the rapids, and there Kathen could make out the metahuman. Two other metahumans attended to them. One with the head of a rhino, the other over-tall, his long legs three times those of a baseline's, his entire head replaced by a single large, bloodshot eye.
They hadn't noticed Kathen's squad yet. Good. Kathen added a scope to his rifle, replaced its muzzle with a longer one. He took aim at the figure on the bridge.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Pull the trigger.
The dun of a single plasma shot.
The figure stumbled, a plasma stain on their chest. But it was a high-powered charge, and it should have blown them completely off the bridge. Kathen caught a glimpse of the illusionist – skin like molten rock, tough and impenetrable.
And the metahumans switched places. It was the rhino-headed man on the bridge. The illusion maker was clear on the other side of the river. They hadn't moved, meaning that they were still concentrating on the illusion.
The third metahuman twisted at the sound of the shot, and their head, their entire eyeball, pulsed blue. X-ray vision to determine where the threat was, and then a beam of red light pierced from the iris.
Kathen and the squad moved out, rushing forward as the forest burned behind them. One of them was unlucky, was caught right at the end of the beam's arc, and screamed as the light cut him in half.
Kathen took aim at the eye...
The rhino-headed metahuman stomped the ground, and in a flash he and the eyeball had switched places. He charged forward at Kathen's group, who lowered their rifles and opened fire-
Only for one of their own to be caught up instead. The rhino was suddenly beside Kathen, and he brought up a fist, thundering it towards Kathen's head.
Kathen's raysword was in his hand at once. He swung it, cutting deep into the rhino's side, and the rhino stumbled back.
This one could switch. He had the power to change his position with someone else-
The rhino surged forward. Slammed a fist against one of his guildmate's heads, swung a backhand into another. Kathen's raysword flashed forward in a quick thrust-
Another flash. Kathen's heart fell as he realized the blade was buried hilt deep into one of his comrades. A thick, green gas erupted from the wound, and his guildmate fell to the ground, their armor slowly deflating as though it were a popped balloon.
The rhino leaped back. Kathen did, too, as the eyeball-headed metahuman unleashed another beam of light. Kathen hit the ground, tearing off the elongated muzzle of his rifle, turning and preparing a spray of plasma.
His mind racing, he wheeled on one of his remaining comrades, and opened fire.
In truth, it was but blind luck that Kathen had predicted the switch. A flash of light, and the rhino-headed man took Kate's guildmate's place, right in the path of the assault. Kathen unloaded a full clip into the metahuman, who fell to the ground, writhing for a few moments, before he went still.
The illusionist was retreating over the bridge. Kathen picked up his elongated muzzle, clicking it into place. His guildmates took position, firing at the eyeball metahuman, who was trying to hunker down, using the bridge as cover. An errant bolt seared through his leg, and the metahuman fell, twisting, their knees buckling as they struck the bridge's rail, and they fell over into the water, which pulled them down and away. No need to worry about that now. Kathen took aim at the forest, watching the illusionist dance between the trees.
“Dammit,” he muttered, “After them!”
He took point, running over the bridge. The metahuman was slower than him, both due to the bolt of plasma burned into their chest and the sheer effort it was taking to maintain their power. Even with the head start, Kathen caught up to them, and he stopped, aiming the rifle directly square at their back.
“Freeze!” he snarled.
The metahuman stopped in their tracks. Seemed still with fear.
(Though, Kate would later realize, it was his own.)
“On your knees,” Kathen said, “On your knees!”
The metahuman spun, and a pistol flashed in their hands.
Kathen opened fire.
The first bolt shattered the metahuman's own firearm. A second nailed into their chest, a third in their head as they stumbled back.
And yet even this was not enough. The metahuman's face was half-melted, molten and burning, and they let out a ragged scream.
A globule in the stomach, and now the metahuman was collapsing to the ground, first on their knees, their hands clenching their stomach, then keeled over entirely.
They did not get up.
Kathen lowered his rifle, his throat dry and heaving.
(And he wondered, not for the first time, why he had been made into a killer.)
And then the illusion dispersed. Was overloaded with magic, and burst with a fizzle. At once the world became brighter, as though aping the day. Streams of light, heavy and burning, twisted on his right and left.
They fed, as did others, like a great spiderweb, towards a descended star.
***
Mister Meaning had put on his best sunglasses, fished out from deep within his chest.
Luminary was still reciting to herself.
“In those days, love was a strange thing,” she said, “Armagest was not a nation of lovers. Marriage and reproduction were in the hands of the government. Genetics overrode all else, and seers and psychics divined the powers of newborn children from the potential matches of various metahuman pairings. Coral had been born from this. As had Archaic Mosaic. But Coral chose to love, and worse still in the eyes of his freed kingdom, love a man, and not a woman...”
A midnight sun bloomed overhead. Burning and bright, the rivers of light lifted from the earth and ribboned up towards it as beseeching hands.
And, worst of all, Mister Meaning could see it.
Which meant that Acruma the Tricking Stone had been slain.
“Better make it count,” he whispered to Luminary, “They've discovered the ruse.”
“My dear Mister Meaning,” Luminary said, and despite her exhaustion, her voice was taut with a grim sort of triumph, “I always make it count.”
***
All at once, the earth below became alight. From his position on the Sovereign Melody, Valm watched as what was dark became bright. The plane became infested with rivers of light, all of them feeding towards a single source, which even now was starting to mold into a sharpened thing, one that would pierce through the warbird.
That would not happen.
“Fire on that position,” Valm said, and his voice was even, “There.”
The Sovereign Melody turned, its weapons lowering down towards the earth below.
(And, far below, Luminary merely smiled.)
***
“We should get away,” Becenti said, “Go. Run!”
He and the Oshya:de accompanying him broke into a dead sprint through the suddenly-lit forest. He turned for a moment to watch as Luminary's construct tightened into a great lance, as before, though with proper preparation and time it was far larger than when she had attacked the warbird during its assault on Father Mountain.
It would not simply break down the Sovereign Melody's shield. Such concentrated power had the potential to down the ship entirely.
And she would crash and burn in the forest, then and there.
And so, they ran.
***
The Prime Voice watched as Luminary's power focused the light.
No. There would not be enough time to volley a barrage at it. Any opening shots in a firing solution would miss, and the light that resulted from such strikes would only be absorbed by her glowing monstrosity.
They had missed their opportunity by mere seconds.
“Evasive maneuvers!” Valm roared, “Don't let that spear hit us!”
The entire ship shuddered and turned, twisting vertically to minimize itself as a target. For a moment, the moon pooled behind it, and it was but a thin line against its full wax.
And then, Luminary's spear thrust forward. It surged forward a beam with an arrow's head. The Sovereign Melody turned, just a bit, in an attempt to avoid the shot.
But it was too late.
Kathen had been too late.
Everyone in Pagan Chorus had been too late. The beam scraped against the bottom of the Sovereign Melody's hull, and there was a horrid crack that all in the forest heard, metahuman and guildfolk and Oshya:de alike. The warbird's shields broke, ruptured, disappeared in a flash of blue static.
For a moment, the attacking Warriors wavered, watching in shock as smoke erupted from various points on the warbird, as a plasma explosion took out its third and fifth anti-air turrets.
And then, as one, with a ragged cry, they descended on the ship.
Becenti watched all of this with the Oshya:de. The explosions in the sky had tightened down to around the ship. He swore he could make out the largest of the metahumans landing on the Sovereign Melody proper. Like ants, swarming over a grasshopper.
He hoped it would take them hours to get into the ship.
For there was other violence tonight.
***
“Click.”
We should speak of Harpsichord the Recorder. A metahuman with telescopic vision and an ability to 'snapshot' what he could see. These snapshots printed out as polaroid pictures from the back of his head. He stared out, now, at Father Mountain, and the image on the photo showed metahumans patrolling staircases and vantage points.
Warriors who had been left behind to protect the mountain from the Oshya:de. Though they were few in number, especially against the sea of Workers and Oshya:de who had come out for this.
Lunus Oculus looked down at the polaroid photo. She could make out Leafy and Snapdragon. So Rulers, too, had been left behind.
“That's my entle, isn't it?” Aima Dorucanthos said, looking over Lunus's shoulder, “Let me talk to them.”
“You being with us might dissuade them,” Lunus Oculus said, “I'm hoping that we'll be able to resolve this without violence.”
In the distance, they heard distant explosions. The screams of plasma arcs.
“Enough of that tonight already,” Lunus added, “Come on.”
They moved out. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Workers first. They came forward as a great host through the trees, towards the base of Father Mountain. Already Lunus Oculus could see Warriors rising up to meet them.
But there wasn't any hostile action.
Not yet.
That depended on the dialogue to come.