After the fighting started, Istar didn’t know how long the church of Urec would remain a safe refuge. So far, the troops rushing through Ishalem had taken advantage of the less defensible places first, but she knew the queen’s soldiers would come back to the fortified church, break into it, and ransack the chambers.
It would not be so different from when Omra and the Urecari raiders had attacked Windcatch, killed Prester Fennan, and burned down the town’s Aidenist kirk.…
After placing the body of Destrar Shenro and the other dead soldiers outside, the ur-sikara’s followers rebarricaded the doors and windows and drove off two other groups of roving pillagers. Now they waited.
From a high window, Istar, Ciarlo, and Kuari watched Omra’s armies retreat up the Pilgrim’s Path to the high ground, where they could protect themselves against Aidenist fighters. She guessed that was where the main clash would take place—unless they could do something to stop it.
Istar pointed to the crimson banners of the retreating army. “I need to find Omra and speak with him—he’ll be out of options. Maybe now he’ll listen. Maybe Ciarlo and I can even talk to Queen Anjine.”
“It’s our best chance to stop a wholesale slaughter,” Ciarlo said, “in the name of both Aiden and Urec.”
“There has been slaughter enough,” Kuari said quietly. “Let’s do our best to stop it.”
“I’ll get you there,” Asaddan said. “I’ll smash skulls to clear a path if I have to.”
After giving a perfunctory blessing to the priestesses and worshipers crowded in the main sanctuary, Kuari closed the door to her anteroom. “It’s better if they don’t know I’m leaving. They’re frightened, and I don’t want them to think I’ve abandoned them.” Together, they slipped out one of the service doors and into a silent alley.
Asaddan guided them through the back streets at a brisk pace, circling buildings and taking narrow side streets until they reached the base of the hill. Up there, Istar saw some of Omra’s defenders gathering their spears to form a picket line, while others stood with scimitars ready. The Tierran army would be upon them soon.
Asaddan trudged up the steep hill with Istar, Ciarlo, and Kuari behind him. Below them in the city, Istar heard cheering fighters and screaming civilians. She watched, sickened, as pockets of Ishalem’s defenders were surrounded and cut down. In a determined, organized charge, Queen Anjine’s army reached the base of the Pilgrim’s Path and began ascending.
Omra’s soldiers saw Istar and her companions and recognized the ur-sikara and the soldan-shah’s First Wife. When their group reached the end of the path, where the ancient Arkship had stood, the Uraban soldiers bowed and stepped back deferentially, letting them pass through the defenses.
Sweating, blood-streaked, and incredulous, Omra came forward to meet his wife. “You should not be here, Istar! Why did you come to Ishalem? I wanted you safe in Olabar.”
“Olabar isn’t safe, either. The only safety lies in ending this war.”
Despite the circumstances, Omra seemed defiant rather than defeated. “I will not surrender Ishalem.”
With Asaddan beside them like a bodyguard, the ur-sikara and Ciarlo approached the soldan-shah. Omra frowned at the man who was obviously an Aidenist. “Who is this, Istar? An important hostage?”
“We are all important,” Ciarlo replied in accented Uraban. “We are all children of Ondun.”
Istar drew a deep breath. “He is my brother, Omra.” Her answer stunned him. “His name is Ciarlo, and he came from Tierra to find me. Listen to what he and the ur-sikara have to say. Ishalem needs people like them to speak on our behalf.”
Before Omra could respond, sentries around the perimeter shouted to draw his attention. “Soldan-Shah, they are coming!”
He looked sadly at Istar, but the interruption had reminded him of why he was here. He rallied his confidence and raised his voice. “We must defend this hill at all costs. Do not let them reach the high ground. Give me a spear!” He held out his hand, and someone thrust one into his grip. “We’ll slaughter as many Aidenist animals as we can, and let Ondun judge us afterward.”
Istar intentionally stepped in front of him, blocking his charge. “Omra, stop and listen to me! I know you want to kill the Tierran queen, but we’re all on the edge of annihilation. What happens next will determine the fate of Uraba and Tierra.”
Anger transformed his face so that she barely recognized him. “Look around you! See what they’ve done to my Ishalem. The streets can only be cleansed with their blood. Death to all Tierrans!”
“All Tierrans?” Istar placed herself directly in front of the spearpoint and stared him down. “If you want to kill all Tierrans, then begin with me.”
He was startled momentarily out of his wrath. She continued, “If you truly hate them all, if you truly believe not a single one is worth saving, why not finish what you started in Windcatch when you raided my village? You meant to kill me then. Only a brief hesitation stayed your hand—and look how your life changed.” The spearpoint touched her chest, biting into her silk wrap, her skin. She paid no attention to the tiny trickle of blood. “Do you regret that decision? Do you truly wish you had killed me twenty years ago? Then go ahead.”
She showed no flicker of fear. The gamble was too great. “And what of Saan? He is Tierran too, born of myself and a Tierran father.”
Omra flinched. “Saan is my son. I raised him. He is as loyal a Uraban as any man here.”
“He was raised Uraban, but his true father is a Tierran sailor and explorer. Criston Vora. And Saan is with his father now. I read it in the sympathetic journal. The Al-Orizin encountered a Tierran sailing ship on the far side of the world. Their ships were damaged in a storm, and the crews are helping each other to survive. By now, they have surely reached Terravitae.”
Omra stared at her in disbelief. “You cannot know this for certain.”
She looked at Kuari, who produced the twinned journal and held it up. “She speaks the truth, Soldan-Shah. I’ve read his words myself.” The ur-sikara showed the journal to everyone around them.
“Urabans and Tierrans can work together. Saan is proving it right now. He loves you and wants more than anything to make you proud of him, no matter what blood runs through his veins.” Swept away with her plea, Istar reached a hand toward him. “Omra, you can die here for nothing, or you can live for Saan—for all of your children—and for Uraba.”
The soldan-shah could not escape the truth on her face, or in Kuari’s hand.
Just then the first Aidenist soldiers made it up the hill, and the Uraban defenders blocked the end of the path with their weapons, ready to die. Omra looked at his wife in dismay. “Istar, get out of the way!”
“I will not.”
Her brother Ciarlo stepped closer. “Let me help you broker peace, sir. With the help of the ur-sikara, we can do what your father and King Korastine started—what Aiden and Urec would have wanted.”
But before Omra could respond, the Aidenist army broke through the Uraban defenders with battle cries and clanging blades.
When the armies collided at the crest of the hill, Queen Anjine knew the fight was already over, and the soldan-shah must realize it as well. Swords raised, her fighters spread out to face their enemy. As her front lines threw themselves upon the followers of Urec, she shouted, “Urabans, lay down your arms!”
Anjine saw that she had come upon a strange tableau. She easily identified Soldan-Shah Omra, who had planted the crimson Unfurling Fern banner and stood his ground, but she was surprised to see a woman who was obviously Tierran, though dressed in Uraban clothing. The woman faced him, unafraid of a lowered spear he pressed against her. The soldan-shah lifted the sharp point away from her, spoke a sharp comment in Uraban…and the Tierran woman moved to stand beside him.
A blond-haired man was also with them—a prester, judging by his Fishhook pendant—along with a prominent Urecari priestess. A tall, exotic-looking stranger also stood with them, a man whose race she did not recognize.
On his horse beside Anjine, Mateo looked pained from the rough charge up Arkship Hill. He had loosened his cuirass from discomfort, and she spied blood leaking out from his armor—his wound had opened again. For his sake, if nothing else, Anjine knew she had to end this confrontation without further fighting.
Still looking at the soldan-shah, she said quietly out of the corner of her mouth, “Join me, Mateo. I want you at my side for this.” Anjine nudged her horse slowly forward to face the defeated enemy leader. She glared at the Uraban defenders until they let her horse pass so she could approach Omra. “Soldan-Shah, I will accept your surrender! Lay down your arms now, or we will execute all of your soldiers.”
The two Tierrans next to the soldan-shah—were they hostages? collaborators?—translated her ultimatum. Omra’s face turned ruddy with desperate hatred, and he clutched his spear.
Flicking her gaze away from the Uraban leader, she talked to the man with the Fishhook pendant. “I don’t know you, Prester, but tell the soldan-shah that if he wants to keep his head on his shoulders and wants his people to survive this day, then he must surrender Ishalem to me.”
Behind her, the Tierran soldiers raised their banners and whooped out a victory cry.
“The ur-sikara and I will be pleased to assist in your discussions, Queen Anjine,” said the prester. “But if you have truly read the Book, you know that neither Aiden nor Ondun would want you to slaughter these people.”
The Tierran woman next to him spoke up. “I can help you end this war, Majesty. But I won’t help you to destroy Omra or the Uraban people.”
Anjine was taken aback. “You are clearly Tierrans. This is a day of victory for Aiden! I am your queen.”
“And Omra is my husband. My name was Adrea, from Windcatch, but I have lived half of my life in Uraba. If a prester and the ur-sikara can find common ground and discuss peace, then so can the queen and the soldan-shah.”
Behind them, a clamor arose from the Pilgrim’s Path that led up the opposite side of Arkship Hill. Soot-stained, blood-spattered, and wild-eyed, another group of Tierran soldiers charged to the top of the hill: Destrar Broeck and his nephew Iaros, leading a weary squad they had brought from the Gremurr mines. Anjine felt her heart swell. “There will be no need for negotiation.”
The Iborian destrar and his armed fighters saw the queen’s banner and rushed forward, cheering. The Uraban defenders, hemmed in by Aidenists now, responded with a ragged, defiant shout for their soldan-shah.
Omra looked trapped and desperate, obviously realizing that all was lost. Anjine waited for him to drop to his knees before her.
But the shaggy black-haired foreigner let out a bellow of laughter and pointed to the sky. Anjine glanced up as a gasp of amazement rippled through her fighters.
Drifting in over the hilltop came fifteen bright balloons attached to sturdy wicker baskets. The baskets were filled with archers—Uraban archers.
Anjine caught her breath, turned her attention away for only a moment, stunned by these incredible reinforcements from the sky. In that instant, Soldan-Shah Omra saw his chance. He lunged toward the exposed queen with his spear, all the years of anger adding momentum to his thrust.
Without a flicker of hesitation, Mateo dove in front of Anjine. Omra rammed the jagged spearpoint with all his might through the gap in Mateo’s loosened cuirass, between his ribs, and deep into his chest.
Anjine screamed. The Tierran woman and the prester both cried out in dismay.
With the spear buried in him, Mateo fell to the ground.
Destrar Broeck’s roar was louder than a firepowder explosion. “Kill them! Kill them all!” Howling, his warriors hurtled into the Uraban soldiers with redoubled fury, hacking and stabbing.
Even as the unrestrained storm of blades and blood raged around her, Anjine somehow dismounted and dropped to her knees beside Mateo. He lay bleeding…dying. With a sob, she pulled off his helm and cradled his head. “No!” She no longer heard the sword clashes that rang across the hilltop.
Destrar Broeck threw himself on the soldan-shah, who fought with equal abandon. Overhead, the shadows of the sand coracles fell over them, and arrows began to rain down from the sky.
Mateo choked, and blood poured out of his mouth. He tried to say something to Anjine, but he died within seconds.
She felt a hurricane of blood gather around her. With ruthless conviction, she decided to have Omra captured, not killed, so that she could have him flayed alive. But even then, she knew in her heart that the violence would not stop there.
She didn’t think it would ever stop.