Sionia could see the battle turning in their favor. The Vatharians on the other side of the battlefield had scattered and were in disarray. Most just running for their lives, with no attempt to regroup and reform.
The last major force of Vatharians remaining on the field were the ten thousand soldiers that surrounded Sionia and her band. They were still enthralled and still dancing. A particularly enthusiastic group was packed directly in front of the band’s makeshift stage. It was now too crowded for proper dancing, so the soldiers were hopping maniacally in time with the music, raising their arms to clap, and singing along with the choruses.
All the other dancers were in concentric rings, circling the stage. The first circle danced clockwise around the stage, the next circle counter-clockwise, each circle larger than the next. There were fifteen circles in all.
Her band and guards were exhausted. They’d not slept the night before. Instead, they had crept for miles though low tunnels the mole-men had built beneath the battlefield, while trying to keep their instruments dry.
Despite that, Sionia thought the band sounded amazing. Bedo had put all the mana he could into the sound system, and coupled with the skill of the band and Sionia’s enchanting voice, singing as loudly as she could, they had enthralled more Vatharian soldiers than they’d dreamed possible.
After a few top Hompa Chompa hits to both grab and tire the crowd, they’d moved on to something more melodious. The band had just finished the song “Zombie” and started playing one of Sionia’s favorite temple songs, “Living on a Prayer.”
Sionia was singing the catchy chorus lines as the audience sang with her, even though the song was in Elven. She was halfway through the song, and thought they would make it, when her voice began to give out.
Sionia coughed, missing the last part of the chorus.
Bedo, in his jeweled sparkling red leather armor and helmet with bright silver wings attached, looked over, concerned. He already had the volume as high as he could manage, and was barely holding out himself. Dyra, an elf from The Circle who had joined the band on drums for this performance, stretched her magic to its limits to offer Bedo support. Still, Bedo’s legs started to go out. Hargest had to hold him up.
With each cough, her sorcerous perception showed Siona a tall, pale maiden at the edges of the circle. Long snakes wrapped around her. This pale maiden, The Goddess Doaris, stood waiting.
Another cough, and a Vatharian infantryman broke from the outermost circle of dancers. He raised his sword and charged toward the orcs. Doaris signaled her bright maidens and one followed behind the man, knowing his death imminent.
Sionia put down the cone that amplified her voice, and went to the back of the stage as Gihmee’s mandolin solo began. Gihmee had joined them from the top Hompa Chompa band in Pelsa, supplementing the Fashion Temple Band. His fingers were already bleeding as he began the solo, his riff built on the tune of the new Pelsan national anthem.19
Two red dragons had finished their bombing run on the Vatharian cavalry, and were heading toward the circle of dance.
Quietly, she prayed to her Goddess, “Lady Hista, I know I’ve been a terrible high priestess…I just showed up and appointed myself, I did whatever I wanted, I never knew or even cared if you approved. I placed myself and my glory before yours. I know.”
Sionia coughed again, struggling to get the words out.
“I have no right to ask anything of you. But I ask anyway, please let me keep these young men alive. This war is not their fault. They would much rather be home, dancing in the summer festival with their friends, than here on this battlefield fighting for reasons they don’t even understand.”
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The mandolin solo was coming to an end, and Sionia would soon need to return to the front of the stage and sing again.
“If I can just keep them here, in the circle of dance, until the battle passes, these soldiers will live. Jend and Aida and our loyal Pelsans will not kill the men while they dance. If they stay here with me the goblins will arrive and disarm them, and then everyone will be safe.”
Sionia felt warmth, as a cloak of light was draped over her shoulders by the glowing hand of the Goddess. She felt fabulous again.
Sionia walled back toward the front of the stage. Her cough was gone and her voice was strong.
Hista, appearing at Atsih, was there on stage with Sionia, singing backup.
The Goddess smiled at Sionia.
“I know the battlefield is not a place to dance. But let us dance here. Just a few moments longer?” asked Sionia.
“Dearest Sionia, and her brave band, who have long served me and brought me glory: Dance. Dance wherever you may be. For I am the Lady of the Dance,” said She.
Sionia sang, her voice clear and strong. And she danced before the Goddesses with all her might. The Vatharian soldiers danced with her, even more lost in the rhythm than they had been before.
The first of the Pelsan forces began to reach the circles of dancers. At the lead was a particularly morose band of goblins who had been specially selected for their aversion to dance.
The anti-dance goblins knew what to do, what they had promised Sionia: they moved through the crowd, taking the weapons. In another few minutes the weapons would be gone, and the Vatharians would have no choice but to surrender when the dance ended. They would be safe, although prisoners for a while.
Sionia and Atsih were joined in the front of the stage by the orc backup singer, Klea. They launched into the grand finale. It was one Sionia and the band had written recently. She had named it “Staying Alive.”
Part way through the finale, the girl known as Astih jumped into the crowd. Sionia could see her for a few minutes as the enthralled soldiers passed her over their heads and away from the stage. She became lost among the dancers.
As the goblins completed the disarming of the dancing soldiers, the drummer went for his big song-ending solo.
Sionia yelled out “You’ve been a great crowd! Come see us in our temple in Lagar’s Haven! Performances twice a week!”
The soldiers cheered.
She handed the enchanted cone to Sir Hargest. He stepped up to the front of the stage, looking as knightly as he could. Sionia leaned against him and swooned to increase the effect, demonstrating that Hargest was a very manly man to whom they should listen.
He called out to his former comrades-at-arms. “Men of Vathary! What you have been told by your king is a lie! The orcs are not your enemies! The citizens of Pelsa captured me, and I have only been treated well.”
Siona felt his bicep for emphasis. The Vatharian soldiers had stopped dancing and were emerging from their enthrallment. They looked to the stage, bewildered.
“But now you must put your hands in the air one last time,” continued Sir Hargest. “You need to surrender to the friendly goblins and orcs that have you surrounded. They won’t hurt you. I can vouch for them. They are good dudes! You will just be held for a couple days, then sent back to your homes. You may meet cute Pelsan women, and the food is good! You’ll like it!”
It was a measure of the state of the Vatharian army that the mention of food got a bigger cheer than the mention of cute women. The soldiers had been living in tents for three weeks, eating from the camp mess. Orc food sounded pretty good to them at that point.
While, other than the part on the food, it may not have been the most convincing speech of all time, the strength of his suggestion was reinforced when the great dragon Klajo landed in front of approaching lines of orc infantry. Princess Wyndy stood on the dragon’s back, holding her hammer high as sparks swirled around her.
Wyndy commanded the Vatharians, “Surrender now! Surrender and we will not harm you. Do not fight. Don’t do anything stupid! The battle is over. The war is over!”
The dragon Kladska, with Duke Jukha on her back, circled overhead, providing a certain further incentive for the enemy soldiers to surrender. Sunfang landed behind Klajo and Wyndy.
The soldiers’ hands began to go up. First a few, of those nearest the dragons, and then it spread through the crowd on a wave of sensibility. A few furthest from the dragons made a run for it, but the rest kept their arms raised in surrender.
Outside of the circles of dancers, the Goddesses Hista and Deymater walked to Doaris. Hista took her left hand, and Deymater held her right.
Hand-in-hand, the three Goddesses walked away.
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19 Translator’s Note: I spoke with a few of the veterans of the battle. They describe the mandolin solo as something they were proud to see, in the dawn’s early light, with the dragon-fire’s red glare and F-Bombs bursting as the goblin cavalry charged, The lead goblin wolf-rider waved their Pelsan flag high. To this day when they talk about the battle they say “wave on, wave on!”