Grey Dura 9

A magically projected voice boomed through the city. “Warning, dwarves. Return to your homes! Vildorial is under attack. Return to your homes!”

Before the voice had even stopped echoing, a crimson lance of energy fired from the approaching soldiers. But it wasn’t aimed at us.

I God Stepped into the path of the spell and released a burst of aether that devoured the ray before it could strike its target: the woman who had cheered at our arrival. After a moment of delay, she gasped and stumbled back against the wall of her home.

Still clad in purple lightning, I moved out into the center of the road and away from people’s homes, eyeing the approaching force. There were around thirty battle groups, all hardened men and women, but I still saw more than a few fearful looks tremble across their faces. It was hard to say, but I thought some might even have been at the sanctuary during the attack there.

Spells began to fly.

“Arthur!” Varay shouted, but I held my hand up to the other Lances.

Pushing as much aether as I could manage out to the barrier clinging to my skin, I let the spells hit me. Stones broke against it, fire fanned out and faded, wind dispersed. A few of the strongest spells broke through, cutting or burning me, but aether rushed through my body, coalescing around the wounds, and I healed faster than I was being hurt.

After a minute or more of constant barrage, the spellfire slowed, then stopped entirely.

The ground around me had been blasted black. The far edge of the road gave an ominous crack, and several large chunks of paving tumbled down toward the lower level of the city.

Light steam and dark smoke mingled around me, drifting up from the broken stones, obscuring me in mist.

I stepped forward.

A heavy, threatening silence hung like a stormcloud over the city. For several heartbeats, no one moved. Then, one by one, the Alacryans began to shift, looking at one another or back the way they’d come with pale faces. Shields flickered as the soldiers conjuring them struggled to focus, and the straight, organized lines of men wavered and broke apart, their strict training failing them.

I waited until the tension was nearly ready to burst apart. “Anyone who wants to live, go now. For the rest”—I activated God Step, appearing in the center of the Alacryan force and unleashing my aetheric intent—“I can offer only a quick death.”