The only ashuma Gebrem and the others could wield was whatever they could find within themselves. And he knew that would not be sufficient to defeat the Uloans ... not when their attack was so massive and overwhelming.
Earlier, for a single, awful moment, Gebrem felt the presence of his Uloan counterpart, Jass Imbiah, in his consciousness. Jass Imbiah was laughing at his attempts to resist her power ... and that derision in that laughter had pushed him to the brink of madness.
Even as he tried to gather his and the Amiyas’ meager ashuma, the Leba fought off a wave of despair.
What can I do? he asked himself yet again. What can I do?
A sound near the entrance to the Beit Amiya broke Gebrem’s concentration. He looked toward the source of the sound – and his eyes widened in surprise.
Kyroun stood in the doorway. Behind him were the Almovaad Adepts, most of whom he had come to know. All were dressed in robes of deep indigo, the color of a dark sky. As the Amiyas became aware of the presence of the Believers, the sound of their chants and incantations died down.
Anger rose in Gebrem. The Beit Amiya was forbidden to all, save the Vessels and their shamashas. He knew Kyroun and the Almovaads could not have been aware of the breach of sanctity they had just committed at the worst possible time. Now, they would learn.
But Kyroun spoke before Gebrem could begin his rebuke. And what he said quelled the Matile’s outrage.
“Please allow us to help you.”
Gebrem stared at him.
“You have nothing to lose,” the Seer said. “And there is no price to pay for our assistance.”
Gebrem kept staring.
4
Pel Muldure swung his sword at the nearest jhumbi. His blade bit deep into the gray shell that covered the jhumbi’s body. A cloud of powder flew through the air as Muldure pulled his sword back. The jhumbi staggered a moment. Then it pressed forward, forcing Muldure to retreat another step.
The jhumbi swung its sword at Muldure, who easily evaded the slow arc of the blade. He struck again, chopping a chunk from the jhumbi’s mask-like face. The jhumbi did not react. Drawing its sword back for another swing, the walking corpse moved forward. Muldure took another step backward.
He stole a glance at Lyann who was, as always, fighting at his side. She moved more than quickly enough to avoid the jhumbis’ weapons and strike counter-blows of her own. But Muldure could see she was growing weary. They all were – the crew of the White Gull as well as the Matile soldiers who had fought alongside them since the beginning of the Uloans’ invasion.
Step-by-step, the defenders had been driven from the docks, leaving their dead sprawled in pools of blood. The retreat was grudging ... but unavoidable.
Yet the jhumbis were not invincible. Soon enough, the defenders had discovered that the creatures could be brought down by hewing through their knee joints and severing their legs. Even then, the jhumbis used their arms to continue to crawl forward and strike and clutch at their foes’ legs.
Still, a legless jhumbi was much less dangerous than an ambulatory one, and that result was the best the defenders could hope for. However, it took many blows to cut through a jhumbi’s gray covering, and during the time involved in striking those blows the defenders were vulnerable to retaliation from other jhumbis and the scarred, painted Uloans who shrieked and capered among them, darting in and out to inflict further carnage. Their blades were treated with a poison that delivered agony with the merest prick of the skin.
Already, some of the Uloans had skirted the Matile flanks and infiltrated the streets of Khambawe, killing anyone in their path and setting buildings ablaze. Smoke was beginning to blot the rapidly darkening sky. And even more Uloan ships were landing and disgorging more invaders to add to the horde.
Rage and frustration offset the fatigue that was creeping into Muldure’s muscles. When the Uloans sank the nearly repaired White Gull, the captain had gone berserk. It took the combined efforts of Lyann and two other sailors to prevent him from charging single-handed into the enemy. When he became calmer, he led the defense of his crew and the Matile soldiers as effectively as a military commander could have done. But his thoughts were decidedly unmilitary.
So this is how Kyroun’s great quest ends, Muldure thought bitterly as he swung his sword yet again. In death for us all ....
Then he stumbled over the body of a fallen Matile. The jhumbi’s sword came down. Off-balance, Muldure raised his own weapon in time to deflect the blow. But the force of it drove him to the ground.
The jhumbi lifted its sword again. Lyann pulled Muldure to his feet before it could come down again. Together, they retreated yet further, as did the other defenders.
Suddenly, a chill breeze, colder than anything they had ever felt in the hot climate of Abengoni, brushed against the defenders. And the jhumbis staggered to a halt, as though they had collided with an adamantine barrier. Then an unseen force hurled them backward. Many jhumbis crashed to the ground; others spun in erratic circles. The Uloan warriors among them fell to the ground as if stunned by blows to the head.
Muldure exchanged a glance with Lyann.
“Kyroun,” he said.
Lyann nodded in agreement.
“What the hell took him so long?” she wondered.
Only a moment later, Lyann and Muldure realized their assumption was erroneous.
With a booming war-cry, a combined force of Tokoloshe and dwarves charged from the mouth of a street leading to the docks. Muldure recognized his friend Hulm Stonehand in the forefront
