Chapter XXVIII – The Tempest

From his bed, Toghrul could see the earliest light of the dim dawn of Yengishahr filtering in.

He had slept little, as was typical, though he had spent some unknowable amount of time simply lying and staring, his reading abandoned, his thoughts wandering. Confinement such as his had the curious quality of warping space and time. Alone and unstimulated, the mind strayed across many things, rambling from one topic to another, a blend of ideas and sensations defying language’s power, closer to the primal essence of thought that a newborn babe must have, before acquiring the power of language. And with his life limited to the confines of those walls, the tiniest of details of that space took on a significance, taking up an outsized portion of those straying proto-thoughts. The sensation developed – after long enough lying still – that the walls were much farther apart than they truly were, a yawning chasm opening that could be crossed in just a few steps.

The meta-reality of this reverie was broken by the arrival once more of the guards. They were as brusque and discourteous as ever, bidding him to rise and dress quickly. From their manner alone, he could tell that this time truly was different. It was what he had been waiting for since they escorted him back here after that brief encounter with his gloating brother.

He did as instructed.

There was nothing else for it.

For he was a man condemned, before ever he set foot in a courtroom. The expediency of the integration of Yarkan into the Imperial fold demanded it.

Thus, it would be done.

His thoughts were more focused now.

And as he focused back in on the reality of the moment, he felt little fear about his own fate.

It was to the desperate battle Sayan now faced that his thoughts instead turned. Had she caught wind of Taghay’s moves in time? Would she be caught by surprise, her and her warriors slaughtered?

Most of all though he feared for Erkegul.

Does love make you weak?

He chastised himself for the thought. Whatever he outwardly displayed – all he did was for love.

Erkegul should have a future.

But a dark thought occurred to him.

Didn’t Taghay offer a future? One of prosperity and peace within the Empire? What if I am wrong? What if Sayan is wrong?

He breathed in deeply.

Doubts were meaningless now.

Everything was done.

Whatever was to happen, would happen. There was no use dwelling on the choices already made.

Be proud.

Be the man Erkegul will one day speak of with pride.

Be a father worthy of her.

He presented himself before the guards. They opened the door. As dangerous a man as Toghrul was proclaimed to be by the authorities, he was not cuffed, nor restrained in any way. Taghay trusted his brother to accept his fate. And on Yarkan, it was rapidly becoming clear, Taghay’s word was law.

“You will be transported to the Central Court Building Holding Facility ahead of summary trial and sentencing by the Chief Magistrate. Do you understand?”

Toghrul gave the slightest of nods.

Without further word, the guards began to lead him away.

This is it, he thought.

Show them.

Show them, Sayan.

Show them our people’s strength.

The party of Harry, Kal and Chinor had not long left the protected zone when they heard the first great roar above.

“Zhouyuan 63s,” murmured Kal.

Harry had been lost in thought until that moment and turned to Kal.

“Huh?”

“The aircraft they’re using. Zhouyuan 63 IAATs,” said Kal. “They’re an old model used by the Verdant Standard Army. Many of them were sold off to various Eleftherian polises as our forces were depleted by the Host. They’re too vulnerable to be much use in modern warfare, but they’ll do just fine against an opponent with only small arms and no aerial or orbital cover.”

“IAATs?” asked Harry.

“In-Atmosphere Armour Transport. It can move troops or heavy weapons and armour.”

“Good to know,” said Harry.

Kal started to say something else, but a far louder roar ensued and he was drowned out. Many, many more aircraft were moving overhead now.

When finally the fury abated, Chinor spoke.

“How many of them are there?” he said, fear thick in his voice.

“That was a few dozen,” said Kal. “Hard to say what sort of force that equals without knowing what they’re carrying. Haven’t heard anything like ground attack craft, though, so they seem to be neglecting their air superiority. Probably because of the storm. Drop their guys, get out.”

“I hope Sayan is ready,” said Chinor.

He paused, as if something had just occurred to him.

“I felt something,” he said.

“You should,” said Kal.

“No… I’ve been trying to hold back the Tempest… but when they flew over it got lighter.”

Harry looked to Kal. The other man seemed to have no explanation for this.

A thought occurred to Harry.

“Could they be repelling it artificially, like they do around Yengishahr?” he asked.

Chinor looked uncertain. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never been there. But from what I know, those things they use – ARCs, or whatever – are massive. You couldn’t put them on an aircraft like that…”

Now he looked even more worried.

“But if they could… I’m sure Sayan was planning on using the Tempest to her advantage. The Qamlar can protect our forces, but if theirs are exposed to the Tempest…”

“And if they are protected from it…” murmured Harry, catching onto what Chinor was getting at.

“We best hurry,” said Kal. “I reckon I’ve fought with a lot of this tech. Half the League’s forces are built on dated Imperial tech. I’ve got a decent idea of how to take down a bunch of it.”

Chinor closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

“It’s getting heavier,” he said, “I haven’t been out here alone without a Qam before.”

Even Harry could hear the steady murmur of many, many voices on the wind. If this was what it was like for him, without a hint of Resonance, and with Chinor pushing back the Tempest, he could only imagine the intensity of the experience for Mu and Tavian when completely unprotected.

“We have to move faster,” said Kal. “How far now?”

“Maybe an hour?” suggested Chinor, though he didn’t seem certain.

“I’ll warrant that sandstorm’s gonna hit us before then,” said Kal. “Not to mention that battle starting. C’mon, let’s move.”

They quickened their pace.

Silence only pierced by the wind reigned once more over the towering behemoths of the Black City as the three travellers continued.

I feel small, thought Harry, his eyes rising up the obsidian walls.

They had not gone far when Chinor received a call. “It’s Sayan,” he said.

He answered.

A brief exchange followed in Jaril.

He turned back to his companions.

“Sayan says Mu and Tavian are headed for the Sanctum with Buka Mallam – our tribe’s Qam,” he explained.

“The Sanctum?” asked Kal, considering this new information.

“To seize the ancient Wolf Totem and raise the Clanship,” said Chinor. “She wants me to join them.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” said Kal. “You know the way?”

Chinor nodded.

Thirty-two tribes had answered the call.

The warriors of six had reached Karbaliq in time.

That was it then.

Sayan looked out over the assembled fighters. Far fewer than she would have liked. But they just needed to last long enough for Chinor and Toghrul to do their part.

Will they?

They were skilled and knew the desert. But none had ever stood upon the field of battle. Were they ready?

Am I?

Sayan didn’t dare explore that thought further. As she surveyed the warriors she saw them. Young and old. Men and women. In some she could see the adrenaline, the twitching readiness. In others she could see the trembling. The pale complexion. One young woman, not many years Erkegul’s senior, looked about ready to throw up.

They needed certainty and unambiguous purpose.

She could give them the latter, at least.

She finished her explanation.

“Now you know everything Toghrul and I have planned,” said Sayan. “Are you with me?”

“We are with you,” shouted the warriors.

The six tribal chieftains stood at her side, each, like Sayan herself, standing firm and steady.

Sayan wore an intricately patterned tunic and long pants tucked into boots. On her back was a cloak of flacon feathers, more feathers woven into her hair. Turquoise shone brightly on her headband and at her breast. A dagger hung from her belt; a spear was held in her hand.

She raised her eyes to the darkening sky, breathing in deeply. Those who couldn’t fight were being led deep under the Black City with those Qamlar who could be spared. Erkegul was with them.

It had been four centuries since the Jaril had last managed defeated the Aixin in battle during the first attack on Yarkan. But they were not facing the battle-hardened warriors of Yurhudan Khan’s White Horse Alabey, merely a backwater garrison of the Verdant Standard and company security.

History is re-enacted as farce.

“This is the moment our people have awaited since the great ruin. It falls to us to fight the battle of the Black City that we were denied centuries ago. Be proud, for today you are all Börilar, the last champions of the Khagan. Be fierce, soldiers of the Confederacy! Show the enemy no mercy.”

She paused, surveying those assembled. The young girl Sayan had noticed before had determination in her eyes, but there was the shimmer of tears there too.

Sayan spoke more softly.

“Our people crossed the Cosmos to come to this world. Generations beyond count have lived and died here, teaching their children our ancient ways. We have built a civilisation on the shifting desert sands, and in the great expanse of the wind-blown steppes. We have brought life to this once dead world. We have sung songs, and written poems, and found beauty here.”

She raised her voice.

“It will not be taken from us, but by the deaths of each and every man and woman here. And even then, we shall not take flight but join the Učarmaz, and defend Karbaliq even in death. Stand by the totems of your tribe, defend your Qam, and make these lowly dogs of the Aixin fear you. Blood will be answered by blood. Let it flow and irrigate the sands of the Black City. For each drop of ours, unleash a flood from the enemy. Give no quarter, expect no quarter. Do not die thinking you could have given more.”

She became quiet once more.

“Disperse. Melt into the Black City. We do not fight alone. Our ancestors are with us and will bring aid. And when Toghrul has made the sacrifice, we shall raise up the Kulkana and the stars themselves will tremble. Let us bring the gaze of the Great Qam upon us.”

A brief pause.

“Are you with me?”

“We are with you!” came the roar.

“Then go. We must welcome our guests from Yengishahr.”

The chiefs moved to organise the fighters.

Sayan too walked among them.

She reached the young woman, and placed her hand on her shoulder.

“Go into the catacombs with the others, if you wish. Do not fight unless you will it with all your heart.”

Without speaking the girl shook her head, her mouth held firmly closed, as if fighting back the contents of her stomach.

Sayan looked directly into her eyes, placing her other hand on the girl’s other shoulder. “Then if it is your decision to fight, do so. Do so with all that you are. The worst they can do is kill you.”

The girl looked right to collapse.

“You’ve made your decision. Embrace it. Some days you wake up uncertain, worrying whether this will be a hard day. This day you know: it will be the hardest day of all. Take comfort in that. For once you have endured these coming hours you can live all tomorrows as a hero.”

The girl nodded.

“What is your name?”

With a great effort she opened her mouth, swallowing deeply.

“Tangai.”

“The Dawn Moon. A symbol of hope.”

The girl looked uncertain. But she spoke again.

“I… will fight.”

Sayan smiled.

“I know.”

Zhen Yan closed her eyes and tilted her head to one side, as if trying to shake the voices from her head in the manner of a swimmer whose ears are full of water. Yet it was to no avail, the whispering – the continuous, unceasing whispering – would not abate. Rather, it became steadily louder, with each passing step.

She was trying to stick close to those she was trailing, but it was difficult to achieve whilst remaining hidden. She did not fancy facing down that monster Kallistos once more, not after last time, and not with these damned voices wreaking havoc upon her focus.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

The wind was blowing more fiercely now, fine grains of sand whipping at her face, and stinging the Qam’s weak eyes – the weak eyes that were for the time being her own.

At least with visibility lowered, I might be able to stay hidden at closer range.

Perhaps she could even risk returning to her true form.

Yet, she was beginning to fully appreciate that the task she had set out to accomplish – to capture Mukushen, and kill Tavian and Sayan (if the latter did not fall in battle before she could get to her) – was going to be a far more difficult one than she had initially expected.

And all of it was complicated in her mind by the persistent presence of Xingyan, ever at the periphery of her vision, yet unmistakably now there.

You’re dead, thought Zhen Yan. Stay dead.

It took me all the years I’ve had to come to terms with that. Why must you come back now?

She felt the weight of Xingyan’s judgement upon her, seeing what she had become – a murderer for hire, aiding the power of the very authority they had struggled in vain to be free from. Yet, in Zhen Yan’s mind it no longer mattered how many she killed, she could abase herself no further. She had long since crossed the threshold, honour now lying unattainable across the divide.

You took all that was good in me with you.

Zhen Yan forced herself forward, willing her mind to refocus on the task at hand. She had never failed to get her target. She would not start now.

You are a legend, she told herself. The stalking shadow of death. You long ago abandoned the weakness of love.

As if to reassure herself, she reached out to the Starflow, seeking to feel the cunning and strength of the Laughing Star. This, however, proved a grave mistake, for the conduit she opened let more of the Tempest into the fortress of her mind, the murmuring dead assailing her focus and her sanity.

She closed it off.

She would have to rely on the sharpness of her blade and her wits, not on the boons of Daqi.

What wits I have left, once this accursed city is through with me…

So, she persevered.

For Zhen Yan always got her quarry.

And Xingyan was long dead.

The Black City, however, thought otherwise.

Even though she had begged for this opportunity, Mu had been dreading entering the Black City once more. She did not want to see the things she had seen when last in Karbaliq ever again. Even now, under Buka Qam’s protection, she continually imagined seeing the smirking face of the Emperor at every turn. At any moment she felt she might turn a corner to see the bodies of the dead, the brutal and bloody aftermath of Theophany.

Yet so far it was all entirely in her imagination.

Buka Mallam was a younger man than Atilay Qam, and far quieter. He led them in silence. Yet he was clearly competent, for though the voices were there, they were nothing compared to the unholy crescendo that had filled Mu’s mind when she had been completely exposed to the Tempest.

Tavian, almost frustratingly, was letting on no outward sign of struggling as she was. He looked positively cheerful, as ever he did. It was galling that he could live thus – to Mu it gave the impression of being mocked.

But perhaps such free and easy living, such peace of mind, is attainable. I need only expunge the guilt of my blood. Maybe once we step out of the Sanctum again, I will be freer than I’ve ever been before.

Maybe.

She was haunted by Sayan’s and Atilay Qam’s mockery, though. Did the fact that she was selfishly motivated by the need to rid herself of guilt abrogate any alleviation of guilt her actions might otherwise grant?

No. I genuinely wish to help these people. I am not doing this just for myself.

That was what she had to believe.

She wasn’t sure if she did.

“Are we close?” she asked the Qam. She was annoyed by the weakness and fear she heard in her own voice.

“Yes,” he replied, elaborating no further.

“How exciting,” remarked Tavian. “I can write a song out of this.”

“Don’t be so flippant,” said Mu.

“Flippant? Songs are the vessel of memory. Whatever happens today, if I’m still alive at the end, I intend to make sure many others know what happened here,” replied Tavian.

He wasn’t being unreasonable, but Mu felt her contrarian instincts gripping her fiercely. She attempted to fight them back, and not trusting herself to speak kindly, opted instead for returning to silence.

But the silence didn’t last long.

“I see them!” exclaimed Tavian.

Mu squinted through the gathering clouds of sand. Sure, enough three figures, though hazy, were increasingly resolving themselves into her vision. She had no doubt it was indeed them: Kal’s hulking silhouette was quite unmistakable, even at this distance, in these conditions.

Tavian set off at a run towards them.

She followed more slowly, alongside the Qam.

As they got closer, she saw the immense structure behind them, revealing itself amidst the billowing plumes of sand. Concentric rings of sharp-pointed minarets encircled a towering central dome. Many of the minarets were cracked or half-fallen down, but the sheer scale of the building was such that its majesty was undiminished by this state of disrepair.

She knew its name from the history books. It was known simply as the Grand Temple of Karbaliq. Contained deep within it was the Inner Sanctum – their destination.

Up ahead Tavian came to a halt. She and Buka reached them shortly after.

“Fancy seeing you two still alive!” said Harry with a grin.

Mu felt a great flood of relief seeing him and Kal. It had not been so long since she left them behind, yet so much had happened since then, that it felt like half a lifetime ago.

Instead of replying to Harry she rushed forward and wrapped him in a hug.

“Oh,” he said, “We’re doing this, huh?”

He returned the gesture.

She pulled away then went to wrap Kal in her arms. This proved tricky, given the great width of his chest. Like Harry he reciprocated, but far more awkwardly, pulling back quickly.

“Hello, Mukushen,” he said, “It’s good to see you again.”

Chinor and Buka Qam exchanged greetings in Jaril.

Tavian shook hands with Harry, then Kal and Chinor.

“Glad you could finally join us,” he said. “Heard you got attacked by a fox woman. Never encountered a fox woman before… and I’ve encountered a lot.”

“Oh, you mean our friend Zhen Yan?” said Harry.

Kal’s tone, as ever, was more serious. “That’s why we’re here. She’s a shapeshifter and she’s coming after Mu,” said Kal.

“What, ah, what does a fox woman look like?” asked Tavian. “Just out of curiosity.”

Mu gave him a glare. “Are you really thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

“You’re too harsh on me, Princess,” said Tavian.

Mu gave an aggrieved sigh.

“Be on the lookout. Treat anyone who approaches us with supreme caution,” said Kal. “Regrettably I couldn’t capture her.”

“Kal just about killed her,” said Harry. “But she still got away. Tricky one.”

Mu’s lightened mood at seeing Kal and Harry was turning dark once more. “Once again, I’m putting everyone in danger.”

Harry shrugged. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. We’ve always been pretty good at finding danger without you.”

Mu gave him a thin smile.

Harry looked as serenely confident as ever and Kal looked no more glum than usual. On Chinor’s face, however, she could see what appeared to be relief. She had a good guess as to why.

“Sayan told us you have been training as a Qam?” she said to him. “I didn’t even realise you were a Resonant.”

Chinor nodded. “I’ve been trying.”

“He did well,” said Harry. “He got us this far.”

“Thank you for helping us so much,” said Mu.

Chinor looked down awkwardly. “I’m just doing what I can.”

“Well, Big Sis has confidence in you,” said Tavian. “She’s got you lined up to do the big deed when we get inside.”

Mu thought reminding Chinor of this was possibly not the best idea at the moment. She could see his nervousness plainly upon his face, even if being in the presence of a true Qam had brought him some relief from his burden.

“We shouldn’t delay,” said Kal, nodding in the direction of the temple. “The enemy will begin their attack any moment now. I doubt Sayan’s forces will hold out long.”

“You should have more faith in our warriors,” said Buka Qam.

“I’ve never had much time for faith,” said Kal. “I believe what I see. Now let’s not delay further.”

“The Big Guy’s probably right. Let’s get going,” said Tavian.

Mu nodded. “Let’s do it.”

They headed towards the Grand Temple.

Mu thought it probably once towered over a broad plaza, but deep drifts of sand had built up, and only a few steps emerged, leading to a sort of cloistered platform and a dark and gaping entrance. Even in the Qam’s presence, she could hear the clamour of voices, and was near certain that it grew louder as they approached that entrance.

Ascending the steps ahead of the others, the Qam paused in front of the doorway.

“I do not know what we will face inside,” he said. “The Učarmaz will not readily surrender the treasures of the ancients.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy,” remarked Tavian.

Mu had built up this moment in her mind over the journey there, yet when she finally crossed the threshold into the temple, it almost felt anticlimactic. Inside was dark, the light that streamed in through the entranceway growing dimmer as the storm outside gathered ferocity. Deep sand piled at the corners of the room. The high ceiling was obscured in the shadows above.

They now stood in a symmetrical antechamber, divided into three levels, a central stairway leading up to the higher floors. It was flanked at each level by a pair of wolf statues. On the third level another door led deeper into the temple.

“Anyone know the way?” asked Tavian.

“I was thinking we should head through the only other door here,” said Harry, then added with a shrug, “But I don’t know, maybe someone else has a better idea.”

Despite herself Mu let out a little chuckle.

“I think Harry’s onto something,” she said.

Tavian looked mildly annoyed. “I’m guessing it’s not going to be just one door after another till we get there. You saw how big this place was from outside.”

“I have studied the old maps,” said Chinor.

“I know the way,” added Buka.

They crossed the chamber and began ascending the stairs. Yet even as they did so, the dim light in the room flickered. Mu turned to look behind them, seeing the silhouette of a robed man in the entrance.

“It’s her!” said Kal.

As Mu watched, the silhouette shifted. Fox tails spread out behind it.

“Run!” yelled Kal. “I will hold her. She’s not getting away this time.”

Mu didn’t argue. Before she turned to do as Kal commanded the figure moved. It did so with terrifying speed.

Air traffic over Yengishahr had come to a complete halt under the Governor’s emergency proclamation.

So, the singular small craft Taghay could see from his office stood out clearly against the clear blue sky. Its journey was more of a jump than a flight, rising on the outskirts of the city and barely reaching the plateau of its flight before descending once more.

He watched this brief journey from his office window, the silent city sprawling out below him. He knew its purpose: to carry his brother from the prison to the court. In many ways that flight represented the culmination of his victory. Once Toghrul was bound for Luanyuan in a few hours – and his sympathisers around Karbaliq were crushed – there would be little to stand in the way of Taghay’s vision for this planet.

Yet watching the airship, full of knowledge of what it represented, Taghay felt little of the elation he had expected.

Rather, he mostly felt frustration. Frustration that Toghrul had been unable to see his vision. Frustration that Ulduz now saw him as a monster for the actions he had taken in defence of that vision. If so many could see and understand that vision, why were his very own siblings so blind?

Yarkan could never go back. To dream of such things was to forever condemn this world to being the backwater it had remained ever since the defeat of the Confederacy by the nascent Empire. What did Toghrul even hope to achieve? Rebellion against the Empire? The Onyx Tortoise Banner alone could with ease bring an army of occupation with ten soldiers for every person on Yarkan.

It was infuriating, frankly. Such blind romanticism was the enemy of reason and progress.

What had happened to Toghrul? They had once dreamt of the future they would build for their world together. They had been given the great gift of their father’s fortune, the very tool they needed to forge ahead, to become the great champions of Yarkan as it rose to take its place in the Empire.

When did our dreams diverge?

Taghay shook his head.

There came a buzzing. He walked to his desk and hit the button for the intercom.

“Sir, the prisoner has reached the Court.”

“On my way,” he said.

He checked his tablet. No reports yet from the operation at Karbaliq.

But there was little uncertainty there.

The rebels would be crushed: he had taken special care to ensure that. Each of the Mechanised Assault Vehicles deployed to Karbaliq now carried a brand-new experimental, miniature ARC courtesy of the Yarghun Company. He knew the rebels would be counting on miring their attackers in the Starflow Tempest. With these ARCs there would be no chance of that. Stripped of their only advantage, the enemy would be rapidly overwhelmed.

Sayan heard the roar of the airships as they closed in. Visibility was now diminishing rapidly, the lights of the ships only dimly shining through the raging desert sands.

She breathed in deeply.

Almost time.

They would only get one chance at this first strike. They had to make it count. And that meant waiting until the airships had completed the drop of their cargo of soldiers and vehicles.

It was the last moment before the dive.

She turned to the man next to her, a warrior and Qam in training named Arslan.

“Everyone ready for the signal?”

It took him a few moments to answer. “All units are ready.”

No change since she last asked.

Was she showing too much of her nervous energy?

I must show no weakness in front of them.

Still, nervous though she was, she was impressed with the communication system their fighters had developed. The enemy would no doubt attempt to intercept any conventional communications. Yet Arslan had devised an alternative: the Qamlar could use their Resonant abilities to cause fluctuations in the Tempest. By feeling out through the Starflow, the Qamlar could thus detect messages sent by one another. As a system of communication, it was rudimentary. But it would ensure they could retain the element of surprise over the enemy up until the critical point of their attack.

No doubt the enemy were now entering the campsite and finding it completely vacant.

They would surely turn their attention to the ruins next.

But Karbaliq was vast and the Government and Company maps were far from complete. Sayan had ensured her people had been exploring and mapping every centimetre of the ruins for years now. There had been a time when such preparations were derided as paranoid by some, but now they were the lifeline of their resistance. Without the shelter of the Black City, they would be exposed in the open desert and slaughtered swiftly.

There came an immense sound and a shaking of the earth.

“What was that?” she asked.

Arslan shook his head. “I’m not getting any reports.”

“We can’t lose the element of surprise. We need them close before we strike.”

There was another sound. Then Arslan turned. “They’re on the move. They’re entering Karbaliq.”

Sayan looked to the other warriors with her in that dark place amongst the ruins. The nervous energy was palpable, even though their faces were obscured by the thick shadows that hung about.

Her fingers ran across the detonator before her, yearning to trigger it. Years of preparation, of bringing in weapons from all over Yarkan. Soon to be unleashed.

She could hear them now, the heavy thuds of the Mechanised Assault Vehicles. Drawing ever closer.

She thanked the Great Qam for sending this storm. The enemy would have little or no aerial cover. But those MAVs would cause enough problems on their own. The infantry they could handle, but the MAVs they would have only one serious crack at. That was what the detonators were for.

“There’s something wrong,” said Arslan.

Sayan scowled. “That is not what I want to hear.”

“They’re repulsing the Tempest,” he said.

“They’re what?” she asked.

“I don’t know… but I can feel it. There are bubbles in the Tempest, like those created by the Qamlar.”

“How are they doing that?”

Arslan shook his head.

“Are our communications still working?” she asked.

“For now,” said Arslan, “But I don’t know how long it will last once they get closer.”

Her thoughts raced. Had she underestimated the enemy? What other tricks might they have up their sleeves?

No doubt. No hesitation.

Just action.

“Are they in range?” asked Sayan.

A pause, as Arslan sent out the question. “Some are. Not all.”

“We’ll have to move early,” said Sayan.

“But too many of the MAVs will survive…” said another warrior, Ilgün.

Sayan turned her way. “They’ll all survive if we lose the ability to communicate and can’t coordinate our attack. We’ll likely as not blow up our own people with those charges.”

Ilgün looked unsure, but she did not protest further.

Sayan took just a moment more to think.

“Ten more seconds, then send the signal,” she said.

The fingers of one hand caressed the detonator, while the other tightly gripped her spear.

A spear.

Seemingly a useless weapon against the MAVs and likely ineffective against armoured infantry, but she enjoyed its symbolism. And besides: this was no ordinary spear, irrespective of its appearances.

She counted down the seconds in her head.

Is this the right move?

It didn’t matter. It was what she had committed to.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Now,” she said.

Saying the word, she felt much of her fear melt away. The dive had been made. She would strike her prey or not.

She hit the detonator.

There was an almighty assault of noise and the ground quaked. Dust rained down from the roof of the ancient ruins.

Sayan spat onto the sandy ground, then pulled a cloth up over her mouth and nose.

“Strike, wolves of Yarkan!”

Mu was almost through the door when she felt the fleeting glimpse of premonition.

She spun about, her hand moving automatically to the hilt of her sword. She was just in time to catch the moment that the fox woman darted beneath Kal’s blow and came surging towards her. Her own blade caught Zhen Yan’s just in time, though there was tremendous force behind the attack and both blades locked together just in front of Mu’s face.

“No, you don’t!” bellowed Kal, spinning to give pursuit to Zhen Yan.

Sensing the incoming threat, Zhen Yan disengaged from Mu, her movements appearing like an elegant dance. A moment later Harry had drawn a pistol and let loose several shots.

But before Mu’s eyes Zhen Yan disappeared.

She reappeared a moment later several metres away, immediately rushing towards Mu again.

This time shots came from a different direction. They missed Zhen Yan, but seemingly gave her pause. Mu turned to see Tavian had drawn a pistol.

“Where did that come from?” she asked.

“A gift from Sayan,” shouted Tavian.

Mu didn’t have time to respond. The fox was almost upon her again. She could barely access her foresight, but the calm created by the Qam gave her just the slightest gain in reaction times. Usually even only that would be sufficient to defeat an ordinary opponent. But Zhen Yan was no ordinary opponent. She was quick – even against an opponent who was able to react to things before they even happened.

Mu attempted to thrust at Zhen Yan, but the vixen darted aside then came at her from another angle. Mu parried.

Zhen Yan was denied her next attack as Kal had closed the gap. She darted away again.

“Get out of here. Get through that door. I’ll hold her back,” demanded Kal.

Mu was about to argue that they’d do better together, but she felt Tavian’s hand grabbing her arm.

“He’s right. We’ve got a job to do. Let him to his.”

Mu didn’t like having others fight for her. It was becoming to common of an occurrence.

But she knew Tavian was right.

She ran.

Behind her Kal issued a bestial shout of defiance against his opponent.

She reached the Qam, who had already, alongside Chinor, entered the next chamber ahead of her and Tavian.

“Can you tighten the sphere of protection?” she asked. “She’s a Resonant. She’ll feel the effects of the Tempest far more than Kal.”

The Qam nodded in understanding.

“We’ll stick close,” she said.

They rushed deeper into the chamber, the sounds of the fight dwindling behind them. Mu could barely get a coherent sense of the Starflow in here, but she probed for any sign, however slight, that Zhen Yan had slipped once more by Kal’s guard and followed them.

She did not think on a playing field levelled by the loss of her prescience she would stand much chance against Zhen Yan’s truly ferocious speed.

She looked around the new chamber.

Then she realised it.

“Where’s Harry?” she asked.

“He stuck with Kal,” said Tavian. He seemed to sense her thoughts, adding, “Let him go.”

“But he won’t last long against that—”

“Kal’s there. Just trust that they know what they’re doing,” said Tavian.

Mu nodded, but she didn’t feel good about it.

Chinor, meanwhile, had lit a powerful light, which pierced the otherwise all-encompassing gloom they now found themselves swamped by.

This new chamber was far vaster than the antechamber they had just entered from. It was a huge square, with stairs descending on all sides to a central shrine of some sort. Around its edges many more doors led to other chambers and halls beyond.

“See,” said Tavian, “Not so straight forward after all.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Mu. “You do know the way, right?”

“I know,” said Buka Qam.

“Let’s hurry,” said Tavian, and even as he said it they heard the echoes of shots fired behind them.

Mu swallowed.

In here she could feel the oppressive weight of the Tempest far more profoundly than she had felt it previously. Perhaps it was the shrinking of the Qam’s protection allowing it to press closer, or perhaps it was simply much stronger inside the Temple. Whatever the case, it was not merely the voices here. She felt something almost like claustrophobia, like her mind was being squeezed down a tighter and tighter passage. Like her very soul was being constricted. She pushed back a note of panic and steeled herself to press on.

As they journeyed across the great dark chamber everything suddenly shuddered.

“What was that?” asked Chinor, nervously.

“The battle must have started,” said Mu.

Tavian muttered something under his breath, and Mu could have almost sworn it was a prayer.

How unlike him.

Toghrul was led into the courtroom and told where to stand.

It was a large room, but mostly an empty one. Rows and rows of benches sat deserted. At a high bench at one end of the room, sat a singular man, dressed in Aixin-style robes, his countenance grim. To his side was another man at a lower bench, dressed in a plain suit. Apart from these two men, the guards, and Toghrul himself, there was only one other occupant of the room.

Taghay.

“Brother,” said Toghrul, by way of greeting.

“I’m sorry it had to come to this,” said Taghay.

“No, you’re not.”

The man in the suit spoke up loudly, speaking not in Jaril, but in the Imperial Standard Tongue.

“There will be quiet in the Court. This session of the Court is hereby officially opened. His Excellency Cheng Wenlong, Chief Magistrate of Yarkan, is presiding. In accordance with the Declaration of Special Measures for the State of Emergency proclaimed by His Excellency Aixin Nikan, Governor of Yarkan, this shall be a summary hearing. The matter at hand is the guilt or innocence of one Yarghunoghul Toghrul, who is charged with the murder of Su Bolin.”

As he stood there, listening, Toghrul found himself growing frustrated with the theatre. Not one person present had any doubt about the outcome of this process.

As it turned out, the Court agreed with him on that.

The Magistrate cleared his throat.

“The Court has already reviewed all relevant evidentiary material and is satisfied that no further recapitulation is necessary. The Court finds that Yarghunoghul Toghrul is guilty of the Crime of Murder.”

They were quicker than he’d imagined.

I guess there is little need for theatre when there’s no audience.

“Under the sentencing provisions of the Special Measures proclaimed by His Excellency, the Governor, the Court sentences Mr Yarghunoghul to extraplanetary exile without right of return. The Court further orders that in light of the extraordinary circumstances and political motivations for Mr Yarghunoghul’s crime, the sentence be carried out immediately. To enable this, any right to appeal of this decision is suspended.”

And thus, it was done.

Toghrul looked once again at Taghay.

“I hope this brings you joy, brother.”