The silence! How could it be so silent after that horrible sound?

He stared at the rubble where once the gates to Belgera had stood. Bodies twitched there, mouths open in moaning, some screaming and yet all mute. He heard nothing. The world was filled with dust, smoke and above all, silence.

It was market day, like all other days since the caravan arrived, and he needed to get to Downtown. He had good coins in his pocket, borrowed from his sister, and if he didn't go he'd lose an opportunity to make a good deal. He didn't want to do that.

Furniture from Erkateren. He must buy a new bed, and a cupboard to go with it. Elina would want him to, and the children were grown enough to have a bed each rather than share one. They would be so disappointed if he failed to come home with one.

If he could only pass that wall of silence.

Something wrong with his legs. Strange. He couldn't see his legs. If he could but find his legs he might yet have time to reach Downtown before someone bought his bed. He had to find his legs. Elina wanted a new bed, and he had good coins in his pockets.

***

"Mama, what is he doing on the street?"

"He's tired, dear. Now come away from the window."

Michain wouldn't obey, but she could have dragged him away if only she was able to close the shutters. Impossible. She needed to watch, needed to see the remains of the balcony across the street from which their neighbor had fallen two stories head first. Now his body was still, just as if asleep, with the balcony draped over his legs like a winter blanket.

She hoped he wasn't cold. It was still winter, but maybe covered like that he was warm enough. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Darain, you never told me it was like this. How do you stand the campaigns? Darain, I love you. Please come home!

She continued staring blindly out the window long after soldiers cleared away the corpse and the sharp cracks of destruction were muted thunder several blocks away.

***

They weren't well armed, but the devil spawn were everywhere.

Hua Chang ducked another quarrel and returned the favor with a burst of needle grenades.

Damn the bastards! Didn't they understand they didn't have a chance with ancient weaponry against automatic weapons? As if leather armor would do them any good!

Idiots! They were fools all of them, just like his relatives back in China, destroyed in the last rebellion to fail bringing the nation back into the federation.

He, at least, was fighting on the winning side this time. Not like his father taking part in the incessant wars liberating or forcing Beijing back and forth from the folds of the Terran Federation almost every generation. Currently it was Free China, and maybe it would be again when he was old. The endless cycle of liberal rule and stark oppression revolved since over a century with thousands killed each turn, and Hua, long since disgusted with the never ending wars, for the first time fought for something that promised personal gain. Not a grave benefiting but the few who ordered the peasants to attack the city, or the other way around depending on if Beijing was breaking away or not.

Something came his way. A spear this time. Curse the fools!

Hua strapped a crowd buster to his launcher. He liked killing defenseless humans no more than anyone else, but sooner or later someone would get in a lucky shot.

The wall, behind the corner. High explosive shrapnel. Dirty weapon, but it would do the job. He aimed. He fired.

***

"Get moving monkey food!"

"They're too strong, sir!"

"Strong? You call that strong! Get your ass moving or you'll lose the opportunity to get clubbed by a Khraga come summer!"

That made it. Somehow the prospect of getting slaughtered by the giants in the mountains had the effect he needed.

"You heard the captain. We regroup. Fast, you sorry bastards or you'll earn being called halfmen, by the gods!"

It wasn't fast. They crawled away from the deathtrap. Rising and running was suicide. He'd seen what happened to the gate guards.

Almost across the street now. Then he had to try burying his face into the stone pavement when the whiplash of projectiles tore the very air apart over his head. He turned. The remains of a building covered most of the street in the direction of the attackers. Collapsing walls meant death to some poor bastard in the house, but the rubble of stone was all he needed to get to the corner. They'd make it to safety yet. Just around the corner, a new defensive position, and if they survived the next onslaught he might be able to see his men following him into a summer's worth of fighting against Khraga.

"Strong! I'll give you strong," he muttered as he crawled. Twice the height of a man the Khraga still gave you a decent chance to strike back.

***

Trindai looked at the golden mage at his side. He was never comfortable with mages around him, but neither did he belong to the category who hated everything magic with a fervor sometimes bordering on fanaticism. At the moment he needed her peculiar abilities to help him organize some kind of resistance against whatever troops had arrived here with their horrible weapons.

"Are they safe?" he asked.

"Not yet. Khar Escha will jump them away from here. I've seen her mind. She's mad! The only thing she cares for is the destruction of the taleweaver. Mad! Still she is like him. Where they come from they compete for the favors of the audience, and she means to win that competition by any means available."

Once again the man made thunder roared through the streets. It sounded much like the cannons of the westerners, only much closer. Trindai forced his nerves under control again. The cannons might be invincible from the ocean where they had the advantage of greater distance, but here among the narrow streets he had a chance to lead his men to places where their crossbows could reach the enemy.

He turned to his fellow escort captain who silently trailed their steps. "Captain Weinak, find the battle mages and have them cover the squares. We clean out the streets. Your men defend the citadel. I'll lead charges and force the enemy to your positions."

She turned to obey, but he could see her hesitate. It was time to drop his role. He needed her absolute trust as well as her obedience.

"I'm Imperial Colonel Trindai de Laiden, not an escort captain. I've commanded raids since before you first saw a sword. I've orders to keep Harbend de Garak safe no matter the cost."

"Orders?" There was still some suspicion and disbelief in her voice.

"From the Council of Twelve. Will you help me?"

A moment of hesitation, and then relief. "Colonel, I will."

She ran.

Trindai turned to the Mindwalker. "We need to move Arthur Wallman out of harms way. The Council of Twelve just doesn't know it, so I make it an order of mine own. Madame, can you help me?"

"A little," Neritan answered. "I can keep you away from ambushes and disorientate some of those we encounter."

"A little? That's more than I hoped for." He gave her a crooked smile. "Please don't tell anyone that you're helping us with magic. Some of my men would be, ah, uncomforted."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

She flashed him a beautiful smile. "We wouldn't want to discomfort them, especially not those with a past in the Inquisition."

Trindai was at a loss of what to say. He clasped her hands. "I thank you," he said hoarsely. "I sometimes wish things were different. Maybe another day."

"Maybe another day in Keen, but today, far away from your home." She met his gaze. "We don't hate you. You should know that. At least not all of us do. Keen is a sanctuary. There has to be one."

Trindai suspected she could feel his gratefulness as they walked in search for his troops. They needed to face an enemy unlike anyone they'd fought before. Outworlders, he was going to try fighting the impossible, but the thought of narrow streets and corners of massive stone reassured him a little. Maybe not impossible, but it would be a hard fight.

"Madame, can you find out how many they are?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so. Why?"

Trindai nearly stopped in his track and stared at her. "To know what we're fighting, of course, or at least their numbers." The golden mage might be able to read minds, but did she lack one of her own?

"No, I'm not mindless, but warfare is not what I've been trained for."

She definitely could read minds.

"It's a vast advantage to know as much about your enemy as possible before you engage in combat." Trindai thought again. "Warfare's a lot less about dying and killing than it's about surviving and make your enemy believe they'll do all the dying. The best battle is when your enemy gives up with as little bloodshed as possible," he added, quickening his steps to a steady trot.

They almost ran into an ambush, but Neritan tugged at his arm before they rounded a corner. Trindai peered around it and stared into the faces of outworlders coming their way. He barely managed to duck before something smashed into the wall where his head had been a moment earlier. Fragments of stone rained around him. He grabbed Neritan's hand and ran back the way they had come.

They couldn't face those weapons without him having loaded his crossbow first. Maybe not even then, but that was a later problem he planned to solve, and to do so he needed to stay alive. Now he had to get in contact with his own troops, but first with whatever local mages were available in the city. After that, well, who knew. Battles, when they were engaged, were too chaotic to plan well beforehand.

***

One down. The enemy wasn't numerous, and each kill counted.

It had better. Karia stared at the shredded remains of his command. They lost enough men for each street defended to make up for an entire season's worth of fighting Khraga, and now he was fighting alongside one. Defending her, to be more correct. She carried a monstrosity of a longbow, almost as heavy as the ballistae mounted on the city walls, and was the only one able to reach the enemy at their preferred engaging distance.

Halfmen, I'll be cursed! She had dragged more of his wounded to safety than he cared to admit. Her curses were as vile as any he knew, but as long as her uncanny ability to sense deathtraps worked he wasn't the one to complain.

Threatening to eat one of his men on the spot she forced enough courage into him to make the sprint across the street when they got separated.

Karia grimaced as they retreated, projectiles ripping stones around them as he dove for cover. He'd have his father screaming down his throat when the lord learned his son had offered free access to the capital to one of their sworn enemies.

Gring wheeled and the first enemy to turn around the corner was flung backwards by the force of the arrow hitting him.

Another down. Eat shit, dear father, I'll have her as the guest of honor at our own dinner table once we get out of this. Ugly as a gherin, but by all gods unholy, does she know how to fight!

Karia threw himself into the protection of an alley. A girl, not even in her eightyear stared at him.

He slapped her. "Run, you piece of shit!"

She fled.

Whatever it takes to save a life, he thought. Whatever it takes to save this city, he added grimly when her wailing reached him through the thundering madness.

Wiping dirt and blood from his face he recalled committing high treason a moment or an eternity earlier. Yielding overall command to a foreign soldier, signing the order with the seal of the council he'd stolen before taking command of his men could be nothing less. Who cared? The council would have a sporting chance to stay alive as a result.

"To my side! Down the sewers! We regroup at Count Haratar's estate."

Karia hoped Gring would fit in the tunnels. Thank all gods she wasn't as huge as the Khraga he knew from summer campaigns in the mountains.

***

Trindai made his way to the mage hall high up in the city center. Mage Hwain did have access to some useful powers, especially in the field of intelligence. Trindai stormed through the doors and raised his voice before giving anyone inside a chance to speak.

"Find Arthur Wallman and detain him!"

"What?" One mage apparently had the guts to question his authority.

"I'm Imperial Colonel de Laiden. Your city council has put me in charge of the immediate operations here."

"Can you prove that?"

"Of course. Your colleagues can verify my credentials after you're dead. Now find the taleweaver and do as you're told!" They'll be dead before they have time to call my bluff anyway, Trindai thought grimly.

The mage paled, and in a much more proper tone he asked. "How, and why?"

"I want him safe and preferably a long way from here."

"I'm not certain we can convince him."

"Use whatever means necessary. Order him around until I can get the mage Escha to where he is. I'll send Lord Garak as well. That man has some sense in him, and he seems to be a friend Arthur trusts."

"But does he trust you?"

"I don't need Lord Wallman's trust, only his obedience. Bully him! He expects me to behave like one anyway. I'm a soldier after all. Muscles instead of a brain and all that. Use it!"

Trindai growled. He wasn't used to explaining his orders more than once, but mages apparently belonged to an especially dense part of humanity. Too much time spent learning theory and too little thinking of how to put it to practical use he guessed.

Trindai headed for the door without waiting for his orders to be obeyed. They would be, of that he was certain now. With a bit of luck the mages were more scared of him than the outworlder enemy on the streets, and he wasn't about to change that now when they were finally forced into action.

The enemy, Trindai sighed, would be his problem. That and the losses inflicted on his men. He cursed his bad luck, but it was an obvious risk coming with his profession. He wondered if the golden mage had truly believed him when he said a good commander avoided all battles not necessary.