Convergence

The stronger demons would not attack first. First the Thandi would try to break the wards, and wear down the defenders' courage. As she slipped over the great tree bole, Zhura exchanged a glance with Keya. The priestess nodded.

With the setting of the sun, Keya had doffed her hat. She walked behind the men who crouched at the berm, their eyes upon the shrieking hyenas.

"We hold sacred ground!" the priestess cried, her voice ringing clear over the din. "We will not fear. Our forebears have seeded this land with their blood and their bones. And they will rise up to guide and protect us! Our Ancestors have led us across hills and plains and forest to this land, and they will never forsake us! Demons and men will break upon us like the river against a mighty rock, yet we will not be moved!"

Keya continued the prayer, calling upon the dead heroes of Morore that she had learned sitting under the Brassbelt baobabs. She invoked Mama Nyah and Papa Yaz, her own Oko Ancestors and those of House San. Last, Keya called upon the spirit of Anathe. Wardens and askari took up the prayer, appealing to their own sacred Ancestors, calling out one name after the other.

They were still calling when the sanju came.

The first appeared not ten paces away from the ditch, crouched and gray in the flickering light. In moments, arrows from the tower plunked into the red clay at its clawed feet. It reached up to take off the beaten brass mask that covered its face, just as two arrows sank into its shoulder and chest.

The demon screamed in pain, and toppled, writhing on the ground. The sound ripped at Zhura's heart. She couldn't help but think of Miliki'tiki, the gentle creature she'd set free in Namu. But two more sanju appeared, yanking off their masks to show their faces to the defenders.

Zhura had never seen Miliki'tiki's face before. Confronted by these sanju, she was unable to look away. Their ashen skin rippled, jowls oozing like mud during a storm. Eyes bled white as the demons seemed to bulge towards them, all razor teeth and liquefied flesh.

But for all the horror of it, whatever magic the sanju wielded was gone. Zhura recoiled. She felt the revulsion of the men around her like a wave. But none of the defenders broke. The surviving demons whirled and vanished, arrows falling in their wake.

The Ancestors stand with us.

A warden standing nearby shouted in pain. Not all of the hissing arrows were coming from the tower. Others arced into their defensive enclosure, shot from the dark shadows amongst the shops across the intersection. Wardens and Ikanjans flatted themselves against the berm. Zhura grabbed Keya and pulled her close, to the shelter of her and Ngo's raised shields.

The hyenas circled, cackling as they roved in the shadows. The animals were smart enough to stay out of the open, probing until they sensed a weakness. They would have torn apart anyone who had run from the sanju.

The assault was sudden. A wave of attackers, swathed in green and yellow, sprinted out of the darkness towards the barricades. They carried shields and all manner of weapons, pounding across the open intersection.

Zhura slipped off her sandals. Ngo appeared beside her, shield and gleaming iklwa spear at the ready, his eyes fixed upon the coming onslaught. His lips twisted into a half-smile.

"So it begins, my friend," he said in their native Sung language.

Arrows rained down on the attackers. A few staggered as the defenders threw axes and spears at them. One man twisted like a harpooned fish, transfixed by an arrow that only could have come from Musa's bow. Those who did not fall kept coming. They launched themselves over the ditch. Some slid to the bottom, but others clung to the berm.

"Ancestors bless, chief's second son." Zhura grinned fiercely back. She saw a gap between the askari on the left, near the log, and wardens. She leapt towards it, as Ngo also charged to the front.

Zhura ran the few steps up the top of the berm, toes finding purchase in the loose rubble. A Scarred Woman had reached the top of the mound already, cutting down a warden with a vicious swing of her long axe. Thin braids fanned out beneath the yellow scarf she wore. Her skin was covered with ritual scars.

Zhura caught the witch's backswing on her shield and bulled the woman backwards, sending her tumbling into the ditch. She flinched as an arrow shot past her head and slammed her club down on a warrior as he tried to mount the berm. The crunch of bone beneath the heavy knob of her club both satisfied and sickened her. The air rang with screams of rage and pain, and the wallops of hide-covered shields and the clash of blades.

The hyenas' calls had changed, high-pitched giggles signaling their attack. The predators raced along beside and behind the wave of attacking men. Others scrabbled up over the log, braving arrows and askari spears. The defenders held off the human attackers. But the hyenas came in such numbers that within seconds some of the beasts scampered behind the defensive lines.

The long-necked predators scrambled everywhere. With most of the wardens repelling green-garbed attackers, only the sub-chief, Jinai and a few of the Ikanjans were able to fend them off. Jinai batted one of the hyenas away with a long baton. Ngo traded blows with a Scarred Woman who, with a handful of green-garbed attackers, had gained the top of the berm.

Keya stood behind the askari, clutching the talisman at her throat and chanting something. At least she looked safe for the moment.

Zhura ducked down as an arrow whizzed past. She swung at a hyena, but it dashed quickly away.

The archers atop the tower couldn't shoot down at this angle, or they would risk hitting their own.

We're losing, already.

Hyenas growled, attacking wardens from the rear. The defenders were already at a breaking point, and the strongest of their enemies hadn't even appeared yet. The bajari were still waiting to join their attack. She could still feel their demonic control over the hyenas. That energy had unleashed them to attack. It could pull them back just as easily.

There was no way Zhura could contest that control. Was there? How did the bajari master all of these animals?

When she had pacified the rhinos she was able to confront each of them alone and bend them to her will. But there were dozens of hyenas here, their maniacal giggles lending a cruel irony to the battle. She struck one beast aside, slamming it into the massive log with a sweep of her kirri club.

Every hyena's cry was different. What sounded to human ears like meaningless yammering was constant communication. Each animal's aura was unique. Fearful, eager, hungry, frantic...dominant.

There. The largest of the hyenas savaged a badly wounded warden on the far side of the battle, against the log that blocked the bridge. The man's companions tried to reach him, but other hyenas harried them, darting away from blows and then snapping at the men when their backs were turned.

This was the leader. The leader controlled the hyenas, and the bajari controlled the leader.

Zhura trotted through the battle, swatting at hyenas that approached her, reaching the leader just as it - just as she, for she was a female - tore out the warden's throat.

Zhura shouted, charging. The female scooted away at the last moment, turning her rump towards Zhura, abandoning her kill. The matriarch let out a low giggling sound.

Zhura heard panting behind her. She spun, knocking aside a lunging beast with her shield, and following with the kirri club. She felt the animal's skull give way under her blow. Zhura whipped around again as the matriarch approached her back. The predator veered away and whirled to face her again, showing a mouthful of jagged bone-crushing teeth that dripped with blood and gore.

Before facing the rhinos, Zhura had prayed to Anathe. But now she didn't need to pray. Anathe was with her. Anathe was her. She fixed her gaze on the hyena, seized her full attention.

The beast grunted a challenge, and Zhura responded with one simple thought.

Mine.

"They are all mine," the herb-witch snarled, waving her club at the backs of the wardens who fought. The hyena backed away. Zhura advanced. "They are under my protection."

The beast would not comprehend her words. But the meaning behind them... that she would understand.

"Mine!"

The matriarch turned her stunted tail. She raced to the log, scrambling under the spear of one of the askari. In a leap, she was atop the tree trunk, and over.

As if tied to her by a long leash, the other hyenas fled as well. But they had done their damage. Several of the wardens limped from bite wounds. At least two lay dead behind the defensive line. Those that could still fight returned their efforts to the barrier, engaging the remnant of their human foes. Green garbed men tumbled into the ditch.

Ngo, leaping down from the berm, favored Zhura with a grim smile. His spear dripped with blood. But a cry from the sub-chief turned their attention back to the front.

Bajari raced towards the defenses.

Like their hyena counterparts, these demons were hunched and brawny around the neck and shoulders, with a ruff of spotted fur behind the head that trailed down the back. They were tall, bodies tapering beneath the chest to a slender waist and canine legs and paws. Though some had vaguely human faces, most had the snout and lethal jaws of hyenas. They carried stone blades - axes and curved knives.

There were Scarred Women among the infernals, carrying long battle axes with blades shaped like half-moons.

Upturned shields protected most of the demons from the hail of arrows that struck from above. But they were not all so lucky. One fell back as if it had hit a wall, toppling to the ground with the shaft of Musa's giant arrow lodged in its chest.

Bajari leapt over the ditch, and again the clashes came. Wounded defenders staggered or crawled back from the barrier. On the left side of the line, the askari fought the demons off with a steady line of jabbing spears, Jinai anchoring their flank. The demons shrank from her, their fur sizzling and smoking as they drew near her wards.

Zhura leapt atop the berm, ready for the one of the bajari. But the demon veered away from her. Instead, a Scarred Woman streaked towards her, yellow scarves flashing.

Arrows pelted past, as the woman vaulted through the air with preternatural strength. She held her axe high in an overhand swing that could split a man in two. Zhura hopped back, the axe blade nearly hooking over her shield and shearing through her collarbone. Instead her shield took a glancing blow. Zhura bounced away from the impact, countering with her club.

But this woman was quick, and skilled with her weapon. She twisted and knocked away Zhura's strike.

The kirri club was a new weapon for Zhura. When she didn't think about it, just let go, she flowed with the club, its heavy knob never still, weaving around her like the edge of a wheel around its hub. That was Anathe's uwa within her.

Then Zhura would think about what she was doing, and her movement would stutter. The witch knocked another blow away with the haft of her axe, whirling it around to bite into Zhura's shield. Zhura thrust her opponent away.

She saw another Scarred Woman coming over the berm towards her. She couldn't get trapped between the two.

With a savage cry, Zhura launched herself at the second witch. The woman, startled, raised her axe to parry.

Zhura poured her strength and momentum into the swing. The bronze-chased ball of her club splintered the axe shaft and smashed into the woman's rib cage, dropping her like a stone.

The herb-witch spun to meet her first opponent's charge, side-stepping a swing.

"I know who you are," the Thandi said. She stepped over the prone form, as if the body of her fallen coven-sister meant nothing to her.

As they circled, Zhura took in the surrounding battle. Ngo furiously fended off two witches and Jinai exchanged blows with another. Knots of wardens and askari desperately fought off the marauding demons. One of the hyenoid demons ripped the face off of a warden with the swipe of a paw. The bajari gutted the poor man with an obsidian blade and hurled the man's body aside.

"You're keeping us occupied," Zhura said. "You fear that we'll tear into your bajari. They won't be able to stand against those of us with wards."

"Very good," the witch said. "Not that it helps you to know."

Keya was hunched over, hidden against the log barrier, still chanting. The priestess wasn't far from Jinai and the other askari. Fortunately for her the combatants seemed to have forgotten her. She poured from a jug of the libation water.

What is she doing?

Zhura warded off another fierce attack from her adversary. The axe blade looped, whistling as it cut the air. The Scarred Woman was an expert with the weapon. Thandi blood gifted her with quickness and strength. The sneer on her face betrayed her confidence. She knew how good she was, and she wanted to take Zhura down.

But Menga had taught her well. Zhura knew how to study her adversaries and find their weaknesses. Every fighter had weaknesses.

But the defenders wouldn't hold forever against bajari. If this woman had a weakness, Zhura had to find it now.

A reddish mist rose from the ground.

It curled up from the mud where Keya knelt. More rust-colored mist rose in a curtain around the defensive position. From the same spots Keya and the other priests had set their wards. It swirled and coiled in the night air like living smoke.

Zhura's adversary saw it too. She launched a flurry of attacks at Zhura, driving her back. Then the Thandi woman rushed at Keya.

Zhura slipped the shield from her arm, until she held it in one hand.

She whipped her shield at her opponent, and it struck the woman in the side. Stumbling, the Thandi woman looked up in alarm, only to see Zhura's club sweeping down upon her.

The herb-witch quickly went to Ngo's aid, dispatching one of his attackers before the woman knew what was happening. The next fell easily. Ngo hadn't come out of the fight unscathed. He bled from a few shallow cuts, but shrugged them off. Jinai, too, had bested her opponent.

Little glowing motes reddish smoke wafted in the air, beginning to coalesce with a purpose. The combatants noticed, and the fighting lessened as the bajari snarled at the churning clouds.

Smoke wreathed the bajari in loops of red, orange and brown, swirling about as they hacked and lunged at it. A few tried to escape, but the mist the priestess had spawned followed them, growing thicker and heavier until it concealed every one of them completely in a demon-sized cloud.

The defenders could only gape as the bajari were enveloped. And then the clouds dissipated.

Where every bajari had been, there was an inanimate figure in its place. Each of the demons had been turned into the copper-rich clay of the Big Mongoose river valley.

Zhura heard the faint, familiar laugh of a man and woman.

"Thank you, Mama Nyah. Thank you Papa Yaz," she whispered. She caught Keya's eye. Keya looked exhausted sitting on the ground, but a grin crept across her face.

"The Ancestors protect us!" someone shouted.

A warden wondered the same thing, as he knelt to pray. "We've survived," he sobbed.

If they had, the cost had been less than Zhura expected.

And yet, it had been too much.

The barricaded area was littered with bodies. All but a handful of the wardens were wounded or dead. The dead included the sub-chief, who had survived the last two nights, but fallen in the last few moments of this battle. Two of the eight askari from House San were dead, one of those ripped apart like a carcass on the savanna. Many of the wounded still stood, but the worst had crawled or been dragged to the rear to lean against the guard-post wall. Jinai tended to the bloody arm of one of the surviving askari.

Beyond the berm, dozens of corpses were strewn about in the street and intersection. Even as Zhura watched, one unfortunate who tried to pull himself away was feathered with arrows from atop the tower. The hyenas had vanished, perhaps frightened away by the ancestral magic.

The city seemed to hold its breath. It was full night now. A thousand thousand stars grieved in the black sky.

Keya picked up Zhura's shield and handed it to her.

"I've never seen anything like this," Zhura said, examining the closest of the petrified bajari.

Little tendrils of vapor still rose from the creature's open jaws. One of the askari tapped the statue with a spear. It toppled and shattered into a dozen brittle pieces.

"Sometimes," Keya said, "the Ancestors make their will quite clear to us." She reached up to caress Zhura's sweat-streaked face.

Zhura kissed Keya's pale, grimy hand. "I should help with the wounded," she said.

Just as she turned, there was a distant shout from the south. Then a blowing, like the bellows from a forge in the Caster's Guild. Fingers of dread crept up her spine.

A low rumble came from down the darkened street, like the sound of many feet.

Or very large hooves.

The defenders turned as one to peer into the night. Zhura wanted to believe it was over, but she quickly realized what was coming.

"Keya, get out of here," Zhura urged.

"I'm not leaving you-"

Zhura slapped Ngo on the shoulder and hurried towards the berm. "More are coming!" she shouted.

Two zenkomo emerged from the gloom.

They stood over three paces high, each larger than the one Zhura had faced in Kichinka. They looked to be solid, hulking muscle, painted in garish blues and reds. Above their brass masks were thick bosses of horn that curled to sharp points.

Bayati walked between the massive demons. This time she held a staff - the weapon upon which Zhura had trained her. Behind her was a second wave of bajari. Zhura counted easily twenty of the hyena demons - more than the defenders left standing.

"Form a line!" Ngo cried.

He began physically hauling men who could still stand into a line of shields and spears, wardens and Ikanjan askari, side by side. It was a desperate attempt to keep the survivors alive, but Ngo must have known that they couldn't stand for more than a few seconds, if that, against this onslaught.

Bayati had committed. The fact that she was joining the attack gave Zhura hope that this was everything the Thandi had left.

"Musa!" Zhura yelled to the top of the tower. "Do it now!"

The zenkomo demons charged. One, with a scythe-like stone blade, curved around towards the log barrier. The other, swinging a maul, came straight for the berm, and behind it, the meager defensive line.

"Ulubuleli!" Zhura cried. "Ulubuleli!"

Still the zenkomos came.

Marble...

A single flaming arrow flew from the top of the tower. It arced high overhead, a lone ember over a raging fire.

More arrows fell in a deadly hail. But they were barely more than pinpricks to the massive bull demons, either failing to penetrate the dense flesh, dangling like spent needles. One of Musa's elephant-killers only seemed to enrage the zenkomo that barreled straight towards the ditch and berm. The demon snapped the shaft that stuck from xhis shoulder, not even slowing.

The other bull demon's winding approach aimed for the end of the huge log barrier. As xhe lowered its head and angled towards xhis target, Zhura saw Jinai step protectively in front of Keya.

"No!" Zhura gasped. She ran, throwing herself at the two women just as the zenkomo rammed head first into the tree trunk.