Arms of the Ocean Ch. 13

Some of the soldiers called to one another, then to Ka, when they saw the shield begin to spiral. The vortex began in mere moments and, in just as much time, reached roaring levels.

Shouts for order and composure rolled across the rush of furious water. Soldiers of higher rank yelled to the ones beneath them but no leader stood out yet. The darkness, and their cover, masked what their armor revealed, if anything. Zeerae had suspected that they might try to hide the pecking order among them. Fear, hopefully, would undo that.

"Hold your fire!" a Chayli shouted from above to an ally who loosed an arrow that landed at Ronav's feet.

"Stay in rank!" bellowed a Neynas down below.

"These aren't Sirens! Why aren't they Sirens?!" blubbered a youthful Chayli behind a nearby fig root. He looked fit to fly at the gaping vortex that, in his mind, led to the screaming void beyond life. Clearly the soldiers hadn't considered the Sirens to have Shasling allies.

Land dweller, Ronav corrected himself.

Suddenly a Neynas broke rank and launched a ribbon of flame towards the pond. It hissed harmlessly as it hit the water which immediately lashed around her leg, pulling her to the ground and down the bank. She screamed at the top of her lungs, prompting two of her allies to rush to her aid. One grabbed her by the shoulders while the other swung his sword at the coil of water that tangled around it. Ronav held his breath but relaxed again when Zeerae allowed the three soldiers to escape unharmed, though they did receive a share of berating from the comrades to which they returned.

"Compose yourselves!" shouted another Neynas from across the pond. Presently he sat in the walls of fig roots. Right beside the Ralta, Ronav noticed, that had been addressing him earlier.

"Act like the soldiers you are, this is nothing but illusion!" The Neynas stood, presumably to yell at the soldiers more easily. The Ralta at his side flailed for the man to sit again but, from the way he passed orders around, it seemed more likely that this Neynas might be the commander they were looking for. The only problem, like every other soldier, he bore no rank upon his armor where a member of Ka's guard normally would. And from the way so many other men and woman were voicing their own opinions in this bedlam, Ronav couldn't weave the truth from the chaos.

Almost as though the world sought to give him the answer, the Neynas clambered out from his cover.

"Wait you fool! Get down!" cried the Ralta who had been beside him.

The Neynas didn't listen. "I thought I brought keen-minded soldiers on this mission, not—"

The churning of the pond shuddered for a moment, barely preceeding Zeerae as she exploded from the depth and pounced at the commander, for that was surely his rank. Her swords were formed and ready, her carapace dark and spined.

A screech filled the night and silenced the masses as a blade pierced armor and screamed on the way in. Ronav tensed up, watching as the commander twisted his sword in Zeerae's chest. Her arms sagged and she spasmed. The whole world seemed to take a deep breath.

"Huh, like a trout she takes the bait. See comrades, there's little to—"

"No!" the Ralta called. His warning came to late.

Zeerae's arms flew to the commander's turned head and sliced through the gaps in the armor around his neck. Words, and flesh, were cleaved as easily as a hand parting water. Zeerae grasped the severed head, kicked off its owner's chest and spun back to land on the bank of the pond beside Yis.

"For you, darling," said Zeerae as she casually tossed the head to the girl.

Yis made a muffled shriek and shuffled back as best she could until she bumped into a root.

Zeerae returned her focus to the soldiers. Her armor scratched and hissed together with every word she spoke. A black emissary from the pits of nightmares. "As for the rest of you. Three dozen Sirens, and the witchcraft they command, await my word. I offer you one piece of advice, run!"

None heeded the offer. At least, not at first. The soldiers stared at Zeerae, the severed head and lifeless body of their commander, the pond and crevice from which more horrors could emerge at any second. Some looked ready to flee but didn't want to be the first to do so lest they be cut down the second their backs were turned. Finally a Chaylian marksman, who had been perched in a tree, took wing and jetted away. Thus opened the floodgates to soldiers flying for the treetops or scrambling through the undergrowth.

"Cowards!" yelled the Ralta from across the pond, who had been positioned next to the commander and bore no uniform. "Worms who let others shoulder the burden! Go back to boasting in the safety of your castle and trembling when the time for action comes! Enjoy the final days you've left with your loved ones! Raargh!"

With this final outburst, the Ralta shouted a spellword and an arc of sound flew from his lips to bifurcate one of the slower Chayli. The two halves of the poor soul's body spurted night-shadowed blood as they tumbled out of sight among the trees.

Ronav gritted his teeth. Whatever uncertainties he felt, in partaking in this man demise, vanished at the sight of such unhinged violence.

Once the flocking of the soldiers had finished, the only ones who remained with the Ralta were a Taigin woman on one side and a Neynas on the other.

The Siren hunters, I presume, thought Ronav. These had to be the ones that Yis had met and the ones that Zeerae had scented. They didn't look the slightest bit phased by the show they had just witnessed, nor by their leader's casual slaying.

"Clever, I must admit. I take it you knew the soldiers were rough at best?" the Ralta asked as he stepped out from behind the fig roots.

"Oh no, the plan wasn't mine." Zeerae's armor melted away and she pointed to Ronav. "She came up with it."

"Me?" Ronav exclaimed.

"Of course not you," said Vyla as she slipped off his body.

The Ralta clapped his hands from across the pond. "Amazing, truly. So much ingenuity. Padding and coating another with your own body to intimidate a larger force. Tell me sir, are you a true Taigin as you appear?"

"Uh... y—yes," Ronav stuttered. So strange to be addressed in such a way by a man who, moments earlier, had slain one of his own allies. A madman in the most accurate sense of the term.

"I'm sure there's quite a story as to how you came to be partnered with these Sirens. I do hope you'll be forthcoming when we get round to it."

"I'll... try?"

"I'm sorry," Zeerae interrupted. "Before we continue, can we at least be civilized and make some introductions?"

"You mean, before we start ripping each other to shreds, you tell me your name and I tell you mine?" the Ralta asked.

"Something like that. I'm Zeerae. And here we have Ronav and Vyla."

"Trym. This imposing lady beside me is Glade and, true to his name, my blonde-headed friend is Blondie."

"It's not Blondie," the Neynas blasted as he tensed his arms in frustration and his hands became fists.

"Not the time," Glade muttered.

"No, I don't care. It's always Blondie, Blondie, Blondie. My name is Blown-day. Like a day with plenty of wind."

"Well pardon me 'Blown-day' for not thinking your name is particularly suitable, seeing how you're not a Chayli," said Trym, his tone dripping in sarcasm and mockery.

"But my ma was a Chayli."

"True, and you have rich, flowing locks of blonde hair so I'd say that either name is suitable."

"Well... well at least my color's natural, not like your blue!" Blown-day grabbed his leader's hood and ripped it down, exposing a short crop of sky-blue hair that grew from the top of the man's head in a tuft.

The Ralta's face was exposed too, a rare sight among their people and Ronav took the chance to gaze all he desired. The tops of Trym's cheeks, where his eyes would have been had he any, turned gnarled and twisted like scar-tissue as they became part of his eye-marks. Like virtually every Ralta, they were the same pattern as the ones on his hood. Two blue teardrops, slanting towards one another and growing lighter near the edges. Trym quickly grabbed his hood and pulled it back on.

"First of all, don't ever remove a Ralta's hood. And second, my hair is natural."

"What?! Naturally blue?!" Blown-day exclaimed. "Nobody has naturally blue hair!"

"Um, I do." Zeerae raised a hand as she cut in.

Blown-day waved her off without a glance. "Sirens don't count, you could all have rainbow hair if you wanted."

"Hey, that's not a bad idea." The aqua flowed from Zeerae's hair to be replaced with the red to purple of a rainbow and every color between.

"Argh!" Glade exclaimed at last. "Can we please stay focused here!"

"Seconded," said Ronav and Vyla in unison. Not for the first time did he find himself preferring that the conversation dissolve into simple, predictable violence.

"Besides," Glade added as she ran her eyes over Zeerae's new coiffure. "That looks terrible. Your hair's too short to pull it off, all the colors are running together."

"Do you think so?" Without awaiting a reply, Zeerae's rainbow mane flowed further down her back until it reached only a little above her waist. "Is that better?"

"Nope, Glades right," said Trym.

"About the hair?"

"...No... About us not being focused. Now we've all made one another's acquaintance so perhaps we can move on to the killing?"

Ronag gulped. Their odds were far better now but that didn't change the fact that he was unarmed. Vyla had reclaimed the naylix when she had stopped being a suit of armor. Not that Ronav thought he could have wielded the unusual weapon to any effect.

"I agree, let's start now." Zeerae flicked her wrists towards Tyrm and Blown-day, who had only the clothes on their backs as protection. Two darts flew at their targets, dead center on their foreheads. But inches from striking, the darts bounced away with a soft 'ping' and a rippling of the air.

"You'll find I'm not like other Ralta," said Trym. He hadn't even flinched at the attack.

"Nor am I like other Sirens. And it never hurts to try," Zeerae replied.

"Well then, now that we've gotten that out of the way, how shall we go about this?"

"I was hoping you and I might find someplace a little more intimate."

Trym smiled. "You stole the words from my mouth. Blondie, Glade, I leave these others in your care."

Blown-day muttered something as he and Glade stepped forwards. The latter lowered the glass visor on her helmet before drawing the weapon from her back. It had been obscured before, both by her body and the gloom. Only in full view did Ronav had a chance to finally look at it.

At one stage it may have been called a hammer; it had since undergone an amalgamation of modifications. The hammer remained visible underneath the mess but myriad spikes, blades and backwards-facing barbs occupied the head and some of the haft beneath it. Ronav didn't need a deep understand of a Siren's body to know that this device had been crafted for dealing them the utmost damage. Even Zeerae's armor would fold beneath it like a flower to an avalanche.

"Come now madam," said Trym. "Let's away to a more peaceful stretch of these woods."

"Lead on, dearest," said Zeerae cheerily. She skipped forwards and took Trym's arm in hers. Together they wandered towards the trees and soon wove out of sight amid the roots and undergrowth.

Ronav could only watch them go, marvelling at the strangeness of the two. They'd get on perfectly, no doubt, were the setting different. Two creatures afflicted with sadistic and twisted minds. How else could they appear so friendly before a fight to the death? Neither able to bring themself to kill the other without a proper battle first.

"And then there were four," said Glade. A rising breeze graced the long, brown hair, flecked with green, that flowed down from her helmet.

"The Siren's mine," Blown-day and Glade said together. They looked at one another.

"No, you take the Taigin, he's one of your own," Blown-day argued.

"What challenge is that?! Look at him, no weapons or armor. As big a task as crushing an ant."

"So that means I'm up to the task, does it?"

"Hey, I'm right here," said Ronav.

"Yeah and you're pretty hard to miss, too," spat Glade as she turned her acid to him. "What are you supposed to be? The quilted cavalier?"

Ronav looked down at the padding and blankets still wrapped around him. He began undoing the bits of string that held everything in place. "I just haven't taken it off yet."

"Right, well when he's done undressing, kill him," Glade ordered.

Blown-day sagged his shoulders and let out a sigh of exasperation. "Fine, but next time we're in a spot like this I get the Siren." He glanced at Vyla who had her arms folded with the naylix draping over one.

As he stripped off the bedclothes, Ronav had to wonder what good the weapon would do to Vyla's opponant. Fearsome as it was, it didn't look as though it would fare so well against Glade's armor, almost as heavy as Ronav's had pretended to be. And with the glass visor in place, the Taigin woman stood behind an apparently seamless barrier.

Focus, Ronav told himself. He had enough to worry about in Blown-day. Another Neynas like the one he had faced in the arena of Shadetree Fold. Only now something told him that victory would take more than a single punch.

Not for the first time since this plan had grown did Ronav wish that Malicious and Nimtith hadn't opted out of fighting. Did attacking a fellow land-dweller really matter when that land-dweller aimed to kill you? But the two hadn't wanted to take sides and they could hardly be forced to fight.

With some clever acting they'll think we were your prisoners, their plan went. It had a chance, Ronav had to admit. He almost regretted not playing the same hand.

"Whenever you're ready," Blown-day said with a cold smile.

===

When at last they escaped the dense-packed stand of fig trees, Zeerae and Trym tore away from each other, the latter dodging back, until they had a large gap between them. They eyed one-another, all pleasantries cast aside.

"I had grown to suspect that another hand may have been guiding the girl," said Trym.

"How funny, I thought the same thing." Careful not to show any signs, Zeerae adjusted the makeup of her legs so that she could spring away in an instant. This Ralta had every mark of experience and, for all her ability, filled Zeerae with concern. She suspected that several Sirens must already lay in his wake. Tomateless, most likely, or she would have heard something. Even so, any land dweller who could achieve a body count above zero was not to be taken lightly. She only hoped that Vyla and Ronav could hold out until she returned.

"Bava!" Trym shouted as his right arm shot out.

Zeerae tensed to dodge but nothing emerged from the Ralta's outstretched arm. Immediately she whirled around in time to see a man-sized boulder flying towards her. With no time to think of anything better, Zeerae snapped herself in half, bottom falling out of the way while her top rolled over the massive stone.

Ralta, she snarled as she reconnected with herself and grew her black, exoskeletal armor. I hate Ralta.

Of all the land-dwelling races, the masters of sound magic were, by far, the least predictable. The only reason for this being that every Ralta had their own, special word for any given spell so you could never tell what might happen until you saw it.

Zeerae ribboned away from a rippling spear that screamed into the trees. Her eyes found her target and a dozen darts exploded from her arms. They connected with nothing but the invisible shield of solid sound that surrounded her opponent. But there had to be an opening somewhere. A large one or his spells would lose much of their edge from muffling. No opening at all and his voice would never escape. He had it at the back, of course.

Another spellword and the ground around Zeerae began to roll over in an effort to entrap her. She sliced and tore through the earth, cutting away a large section in the process that she held out ahead in anticipation of Trym's next attack. A torrent of flame struck her makeshift shield as she advanced on the Ralta. It quickly proved too much and again Zeerae found herself darting to safety.

Only a few quick paces brought Zeerae to a denser run of trees and she ducked behind one.

"Are we taking a break?" Trym asked. His feet fell upon twigs and damp leaves as he advanced.

"I'm afraid I've been locked up the past day. There hasn't been a chance for me to properly stretch," Zeerea replied.

"Locked up? Do tell."

"We've our own Ralta, you see. Another sorceress who's been experimenting on us with powerful magic. And you're trespassing on her home. She isn't happy about that." While Zeerae spoke, she shuffled through the contents of her body in search of aid. The darts, some knives, various venoms and poisons. Too bad she had left the naylix with Vyla. But that Siren needed all the help she could get, provided she didn't rip herself in half with it somehow. At any rate, Zeerae couldn't come up with anything useful inside her. "I'd worry about your friends back there. Their fight may not be as one-sided as you think."

Even if Zeerae had been able to see the Ralta, she probably couldn't have gotten an accurate read on his emotions. The eyeless people were subtle enough already. This one had extra practice by trade.

"In that case, I suppose I haven't the time for playing around," said Trym.

Zeerae sprang up and flipped over backwards to grab the tree behind her as a spinning disk of sound tore through its trunk. The old, weather-worn elm began to fall sideways. She rode it for a second before diving off the bark and soaring over her opponent's head. Her blades were ready as she landed behind Trym's back. Then his fingers flicked and Zeerae felt an invisible force throw her back along the ground. She grated across the dirt, her armor screeching and several spines breaking off before she could pull them to safety.

Trym's spell pushed Zeerae until she smashed against another tree. As he moved in he brought his hands down and invoked another word before she could recover. An arc of energy flew out and carved straight down the middle of Zeerae's body. A millisecond slower and her vitals would have been clipped by it. As things were, they felt frighteningly warm by their proximity to the attack.

Zeerae tried to reconnect with her other half but the blade of sound and magic remained, too wide to slide around.

Trym closed in, his hands poised for the next attack. The deathblow if something wasn't done. The energy blade shuddered and pressed against the sides of Zeerae's body where it cleaved.

"Ordinarily I'm against lengthy monologues in the face of victory," said Trym. His fingers curled. "And today will be no exception. Leyach!"

===

Ronav dove for cover as a beam of pure heat missed him by mere inches. His neck stung where the searing temperature licked. He tried to scramble for the trees but something grabbed him by the legs and pulled him back. An invisible force of some kind. Levitation magic, he realized, but far more powerful than the variety that Aylote had wielded in Shadetree Fold.

"This is pathetic..." Blow-day moaned. He drew his hands back, then lifted them and Ronav floated into the air where he hung upside down by hs feet. The Neynas shook his head before looking over at Glade. "Can we please swap."

"No, just kill him."

Ronav took the chance to check on how Vyla was faring. She and Glade were dodging around one another, naylix whirling and hammer wooshing through the air. Every now and then a metallic crash filled the night, followed by a scream of steel as Vyla's weapon struck Glade's armor. It never did more than scratch the surface.