Letting his guard down was a mistake. He should’ve been ready when he heard the allural’s engine whine, should’ve known the sounds that heralded an impending airstrike. But he let himself get distracted. Now he owed his life to reflex and instinct rather than the careful measure of organized thought. Explosions burst around him and stone rained down on the small break room he’d foolishly trusted to be safe.

  His helm extended over his head the moment the first rumblings shook the floor. Knocked backward from the blasts, Voy crashed head first into a broken support beam as his body joined the erratic shuffle of the palace and it’s contents. The impact cracked the stone and arrested his rearward momentum as debris tumbled over him and pressed him flat against the ground. Freeing himself wasn’t an immediate option, tremors rocked the rubble such that any attempt to move it off of him invited more to fill the space created.

  For now he held on, tensed his body, and rode out the chorus of booms and bangs that fell from above. Nearly a minute passed this way, crushed beneath wreckage and hoping each explosion was far enough away to be safely ignored. After that hellish minute the stream of explosions wound down. Dust settled and Voy’s eyes adjusted to pick out the faintest details of his hastily formed black sandstone casket.

  Sudden silence followed and with it came the task of planning a course of action against the tide of adrenaline starting to pour through his veins. There were too many possible assailants for him to meaningfully narrow down, but they all had one thing in common; if Voy was pinned they’d have an easy time with whatever came next.

  Mustering his strength Voy began to push against the stone slab that had fallen on top of him. He planted both palms up and willed rebellious muscle and seditious bone to heed his will. His right arm shook with effort, his fraying nerves threatened to give out and see the weight above come crashing down. Yet at his left the artistry of woven metal that his left arm had become remained firm and steady. Pain found no purchase there.

  Slowly at first, yet faster as he ground himself against the stone the mound of rubble above shuddered and rose. Sweat ran in the gaps where his imperfect carapace didn’t sit flush with his face, the saline fluid stung his eyes as he pushed himself. With a triumphant growl Voy threw the stone off and to his side. It crashed into yet more rubble in a series of weighty thuds that sent up a dry plume of grit and sand. Night air mingled with ash as it rushed into the new opening.

  As Voy rose to his feet he drew his black vibrosword from his back, gripping it with both hands. Grey dust swirled around him in every direction. His view was limited to the small cone of dim blue light his helm eye lenses cast out from his face. There were no signs of any other survivors, but the shrill screech of the allural that had delivered such destruction was audible in the distance. If it was circling back Voy didn’t have long.

  “Elara!” Voy shouted both aloud and into his helm over the comm link he and Elara shared. The bead of green light that signified her status had shifted hues to a lime green during the attack. Voy hoped that meant only a minor wound, but until Samuine had shown him the ‘handshake’ linking less than a month ago he hadn’t even known it existed.

  Beside Elara’s indicator Samuine’s verdant, healthy green glowed the same as it had when they first linked. Could this be his doing? The thought came to Voy both unwelcome and unbidden, but he found himself unable to fully dismiss it. Allurals were the standard ship-to-ground aerocraft used by thurgian military forces. Though they weren’t unheard of in the Buffer, the disorganized nature of the region meant it was just one platform in an ocean of disparate choices a given force could make.

  “I’m over here,” Elara groaned over comms. Voy spun to look in every direction around him.

  “Where is ‘here’?” Voy asked, somewhat annoyed. There was a loud crack-crunch followed by an explosion of blue light. Rocky shrapnel burst out and rattled against Voy’s carapace. Voy turned toward it, sword raised, and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Elara’s off balance silhouette amidst the swirling dust.

  “Right next to the explosion, can’t miss it,” she answered as she shook off the inebriating admixture of explosive ordinance and gakk. Stowing his blade on his back Voy navigated over the rubble between them and raced to her side, wrapping his arm around her to help keep her balanced. “What happened?” she asked.

  “We got bombed, allurals by the sound. No idea who or why though,” Voy tried to smother his growing worry that Samuine was behind the attack. Elara slumped her shoulders and shook her head.

  “Remind me to never drink again,” she grumbled and placed her hands against her helm’s temples. The moment of reprieve approached it’s end as the distant whine of an allural tearing through the sky above grew louder. Voy and Elara both snapped into focus, drawing their vibroswords and turning to face the direction of the incoming craft.

  When the shrill whine of jet propulsion arrived over head a series of mechanical shifts and gear turns fixed the sound in place a few dozen feet above. Downdrafts of hot exhaust blew away the dust below and revealed the extent of the damage the craft had wrought. A single dark blue hawk like craft hovered above and switched on it’s under mounted search lights, bathing the field of carnage in harsh white light.

  Miraculously much of the palace spire still stood, but the space that had once been it’s entrance, the throne hall, and all the space between had been thoroughly excised. It was as if some gargantuan being had dug a spoon into the structure and messily scooped out the space where Voy and Elara now stood.

  Bloody, charred remains mixed in with shattered stone. So far as Voy could see, no one besides Elara and him were even alive, never mind up and moving. Denial crept into Voy’s observation. There had to be more survivors. A structure this big surely afforded the possibility, Hembrandt must have some plan or contingency in place for this. Things couldn’t just end here. Not like this.

  Cones of harsh light fell upon Voy and Elara. A tense moment passed before the allural’s rear ramp door opened. Two armored figures dropped out from the craft and landed gracefully on the shattered earth below. Both were familiar to Voy. Immediate conflict arose in him, a battle between dread and involuntary joy seeing old friends. Illati and Thenrothyne stood below the wrathful allural bathed in downdraft and overhead flood light.

  Thenrothyne’s blue helm eyes bore into Voy, his silence in no way diminishing the restrained fury in his posture. Illati was unhelmed with her vibrosword drawn, her hair bound in a long braid that hung down to her waist. She never needed the helm to mask her emotions and there was no warmth to be found in her features now, at best there was something approaching dutiful anger.

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  “No more games Elara. You’re leaving with me and you’re doing it now,” Illati raised her voice over the engine roar. Elara bristled and clenched her hand tighter to her sword.

  “This isn’t a game!” Elara shouted back, her voice raw with emotion, “It never was! Why won’t you just leave me alone?”Though her face was covered by her helm the waver in her voice betrayed the beginning of tears. As if responding to her words belts of blue electricity began to dance over the surface of her armor. Miniature lightning cracked against the air and the rubble around her. Voy took a cautious sidestep away from her but kept his focus on Illati.

  “This is not what Samuine agreed to Illati,” Voy was stern behind his blade, “You are out of line, no one needed to die here.” Illati turned an utterly contemptuous side-glance his direction, not willing to even turn her head his way.

  “You want to talk about ‘out of line’? You are a living violation of the Iyallat itself, you’re lucky to still draw breath. I’d kill you right now if I hadn’t promised him the honor.” Illati gave the slightest nod toward the bone and copper colored specter at her side.

  Thenrothyne didn’t speak, not anymore, but he didn’t need to. Pure unfettered hatred poured from him, radiated around him, and condensed into a pillar of murderous intent that sprang from his eyes and centered squarely on the pseudo-kartorim. Did Fenrothyne die? Wouldn’t my eyes be red? Voy shifted his footing, uncertain which of his former peers was the greater threat.

  “Please, I don’t want to hurt you!” Elara demanded to the two as yet more lightning flared off her carapace. Voy had never seen anything like it, had the circumstances been different he would have liked to know what the hell she was doing. Perhaps, if they somehow got out of this, he could ask her.

  “I was about to say the same to you,” Illati sighed and extended her helm. The semi fluid metal unfurled and extended itself quickly, even adapting to cover over her braid in small segmented plates. Quicker than the unaided eye could follow Illati sprang forward, her sword point on a collision course with Elara’s abdomen. Adrenaline pulled time apart and stretched Voy’s perception to it’s limit. With a painful, furious dash of his own he threw himself between Illati and her target.

  He collided with Illati in the air just before her blade met her sister’s flesh, sending them both tumbling away into the rubble. Thenrothyne lurched to follow, but his own advance was blocked by Elara, her sword cracking against his and her body wreathed in lightning. Voy and Illati came to a stop on a patch of mostly even ground between the wreckage. Illati manipulated their momentum such that when Voy landed flat on his back she landed straddling him.

  “You may have Samuine fooled,” the scion of House Caldion pulled her green bladed sword back until the handle was in line with her cheek, “but I know what you are.” Undahiil don’t fail me now! Voy thought as he raised his left armed to protect himself. As he did so a white oval of transparent, crystallized light popped into being over his arm in mimicry of the flared pavis shield standard to other kartorim. Illati’s blade cracked against it and showered them both in sparks.

  “Do you hear yourself right now? I haven’t fooled anyone!” Voy countered as Illati pressed her sword edge down into his shield. Though it held for the moment hairline cracks were beginning to creep across the energy barrier. Vibrosword were designed to vibrate dynamically, adapting to whatever frequency was needed to cut through nearly any barrier. Carapace plate could sometimes work around this to keep it’s bearer protected, but precious little else could. Voy’s shield was temporary, that it held at all was yet another testament to Undahiil’s mastery of his craft. Illati growled and leaned into her sword, pressing it harder into the shield.

  “The real Voy died in a bladeship accident. Avaron said so. That’s the end of it,” she spoke through gritted teeth but there was a hitch inn her voice, a note of uncertainty. Fire tore through Voy’s body as he fought to hold her back. When they’d sparred in their youth it hadn’t been Illati’s strength he had to fear, before ascension he’d been a fair bit larger and stronger than her. Instead she made a name for herself through being nimble, through being agile, and above all else… fast.

  While that last bit hadn’t changed, Voy had lost both the size and strength advantage and both of them knew it. She could afford the inefficiency she approached him with, pushing to break his shield through brute force rather than something more elegant. If she kept acting on that shared knowledge then maybe, just maybe, Voy could pull something off. All he needed to do was stay alive long enough for help to arrive. Assuming any help was coming, of course.

  “If you really believe that,” Voy lighted his right arm up to support his left and took in a few quick breaths, “why are you stalling?” Some of the force she’d been applying to her blade let up.

  “Good point,” the blue and green kartorim yanked her sword back and adjusted her grip to stab rather than hack. Too fast for Voy to react she plunged it into his shield. The metal blade hummed it’s deadly song as it matched his shield’s own resonance and slid through the barrier on a path for Voy’s neck.

  Mustering all his strength Voy shoved his shield arm up and to his left, ripping the sword lodged in his shield from Illati’s grip and knocked her off center. She braced herself against reflexively as she fell forward. Voy met her with a headbutt, smashing his forehead into her faceplate before shoving her aside and rolling out from under her.

  His vision pulsed red, he didn’t want to think about what portion of his skull broke to buy his momentary freedom. Illati was already on her feet again before Voy had fully risen to one knee. Her sword recovered, she leapt at him and the regret Voy felt for losing his own sword matured in an instant. Though he managed to stand before he blade lashed out, he had no hope of parrying her strike.

  Vibrosword met brittle, half ascended carapace and bit through it greedily before cutting into the flesh above his waist. A streak of crimson followed in it’s path as vibrant blood spilled from his wound. Again and again she swept her blade past his defenses, each time tracing a new bloody line into his weakening form. Somewhere behind him he heard Elara’s scuffle with Thenrothyne, but he lacked any way to know who had the upper hand. The last strike in Illati’s storm of blows sheered the right half of Voy’s faceplate away, revealing the right side of Voy’s face.

  “I take no pleasure in this,” Illati confessed as she held back her final, lethal blow. Her blue helm eyes met Voy’s unguarded, natural one. Voy spit blood onto the ground.

  “The laundry hall,” Voy half wheezed as he forced the words out, “I still remember it, the first time we all had to wash our own blood and sweat soaked uniforms. Do you?” It was a risk, a gamble, something Voy would rather have avoided.

  Illati froze.

  “You can’t… No. No!” Illati breathed heavy, anger seemed to radiate off her, but she withheld her final blow. She just waited, holding eye contact with the broken being before her. A loud crash followed by tumbling stone arrested their attention. Both turned to see a newly made pile of shattered palace-stone surrounded by billowing dust. At it’s center, crumpled amidst the ruins… was Elara.

  Thenrothyne stood over her, his armor scored and pitted, his chest heaving with exertion. The scion of House Bolund turned his triumphant aggression toward Voy. His bone colored vibrosword hummed and shimmered as he began his approach.

  “Illati… call him off… please…” Voy pleaded. His friend hung on hesitation, her gaze darting from Voy to Elara, then to Thenrothyne, and back again in a loop.

  “I- I can’t- we have orders- the Iyallat-” she struggled to assemble a sentence in the throes of decision paralysis. Thenrothyne’s silent malice drew close and he extended his energy lance. He stopped to level it mere inches from Voy’s head. Voy was barely standing, and as more blood wept out from his wounds he couldn’t muster the extra strength to even raise his arms in defense. It couldn’t end here, not like this… but Voy saw no way out. He steeled himself and glowered defiantly at his soon to be killer.

  “For Fenrothyne,” the tiniest whisper slid out from Thenrothyne’s atrophied vocal chords before his lance’s charge up drowned him out again. There was a crack in the air, followed by the sound of shattering carapace and the smell of seared flesh.

  Voy fell backward.

  With stunned disbelief, the still breathing pseudo-kartorim watched as a brilliant blue blade sprouted from Thenrothyne’s chest. His eyes, once full of hatred, turned to bitter confusion before tendrils of hellishly hot lightning tore across him, ran along the sword and rushed into the wound to vaporize the soft tissue within.

  Behind him stood Elara, far more lucid than she’d appeared a short moment ago. A triumphant howl poured out from her as she raised the dying kartorim off the ground by her blade. Coils of savage electricity leapt off of her and made a grizzly wound lethal. No cry left Thenrothyne as Elara’s eyes shifted from azure blue to a crimson, killer red.

  Shortly after Elara collapsed to one knee from the strain. The charred, broken husk that had once been a kartorim fell into a miserable heap on the ground between her and Voy. Illati jumped backwards, eyes wide in horror. She wasn’t afforded a moment to speak, to react further. A bolt of white hot plasma streaked out from beyond view and caught her in the collarbone. The force of the shot knocked her to unceremoniously to the ground.

  “How dis-re-spect-ful of them to make such a mess,” Bascimus strode out from the ruin, his black arm mounted lance trailing wisps of white vapor by his side. “She should live, for now. You may thank me at your leisure.”