The Spirit War(172)

“They’re notching another volley.”

Josef’s voice fell through the stunned silence like an iron weight. Miranda turned her head to see the swordsman at the edge of Durn’s wall, peering out at the enemy.

“Get to cover!” she cried.

She didn’t have to say it twice. Soldiers and Spiritualists scrambled for the safety of the tower’s shadow. They used the broken arrows as markers, crowding into the lee of the tower where no arrows had landed. Sara, however, did not move. She stood calmly beside her wagons, and Sparrow stood calmly beside her, though his face was paler than usual as he kicked a stray arrow that had landed inches from his boot.

“They’re not going to shoot again,” Sara said when she caught Miranda’s alarmed look. “The arrows are just to keep us huddled. I’d get your Spiritualists back out here. The real attack is about to start.”

“What do you mean?” Miranda said, crouching behind Durn. “How do you know?”

“I’ve fought the Empress before,” Sara said, lifting her chin. “Look. Here they come now.”

Miranda pressed her hand against Durn’s surface. The stone softened under her fingers, letting her push a small hole through the wall, just enough to see that Sara was right. On the deck of the center palace ship, behind the line of archers, a circle of ten people stood around a ball of stone and metal. The circle of figures raised their arms, and the ball began to glow red hot. Miranda felt her mouth go dry. She’d never seen one before, but there was no question that the thing at the circle’s center was one of the Empress’s war spirits. But even as she recognized what she was looking at, the circle of wizards threw their arms toward Osera and the glowing ball launched off the deck. It flew through the air with a deep, wailing scream, leaving a trail of smoke behind it as it arced up and then down, straight toward Durn’s wall.

Miranda ran back before she knew what she was doing, throwing out her hand as Mellinor surged out of her. The water flew up in a spout at the falling war spirit, and they collided midair in a burst of steam. A second later, she felt Mellinor’s triumph echo through her as the jumble of metal and stone, now black and dripping, slammed to the ground at the watchtower’s foot, followed by a shower of icy cold water.

Miranda held out her hand as Mellinor flowed back into her. “Good catch!”

“Don’t celebrate yet,” Mellinor said, his voice dire. “Look.”

Miranda glanced back to see the war spirit stirring in its crater, and then the spirit began to unfold. Stone and iron shifted, forming four sturdy legs, a solid, low-slung body, and a broad, flat head with a great hanging jaw of sharp, steel teeth. The moment the transformation was complete, the war spirit rolled smoothly to its feet, steam rising as it started heating itself up again.

“Powers,” Miranda muttered, raising her hands. Beside her, Gin fell to a crouch, claws ready. But before she could do more than ready her spirits, Josef stepped in front of her, sword out.

“I’ll handle this,” he said. “Get your wizards ready to stop the rest.”

“The rest?” Miranda said, bewildered.

Josef nodded and jerked his head toward the water. Miranda turned, and her heart sank. The sky was full of smoke trails as countless red-hot spirits launched from the decks of the palace ships. Most were already flying high overhead to fall on the city behind them. Miranda could only watch in horror as the first one crashed into the mountain, landing in the houses on the eastern slope with an impact she felt through her boots.

But even as the first wave hit, more war spirits were launching. The second volley hit the palace itself. One struck the crumbling tower at the top, taking it clean off. Another crashed into the palace’s eastern face, cracking the wall as it tore into the inner halls.

“Miranda,” Mellinor whispered in her ear. She barely heard him. She was staring in horror as a war spirit crashed through the palace roof, shattering the floors below with a distant boom of pulverized stone.

“Miranda!” the sea spirit shouted.

She snapped out of it. “Right,” she muttered, running for the lee of the tower where the Spiritualists were hiding.

“All of you!” she shouted, pointing to no one in particular. “Get to the city and get those spirits under control!”

The Spiritualists stared at her dumbly.

“Go!” she shouted again.

This time, they obeyed. The air was full of flashes as they called their mounts and took off toward the burning city, but Miranda didn’t see it. She was already marching back toward Durn’s wall.

“We have to stop those ships,” she said. “Where’s Master Banage?”