Hundreds of spears glittered in the Silverlight, all held high in formation. Not one soul stood out, Battlebliss granting them with a discipline more akin to a Machina than a human. In their unit they stood as one, giving them a place and a clear purpose. One they had to fulfill, no matter the sacrifices that needed to be made.
As with the Qyoral army, the majority of its numbers and strength remained hidden behind the dunes. Only their vanguard had presented themselves, telling their enemies they had arrived. Carried forward on a carriage, the leading Warpriest entered the field. Two horses pulled it, each a fine specimen of its breed. Unlike the wildness ruled by Drom, birthing mindless beasts, the Empire had spent generations to minimize the mutations through careful breeding.
The results were astonishing creatures resembling their ancestors. But they dwarfed them in their size and strength. They said that one decent warhorse could cave a bear's skull in and rip a wolf's throat out with its teeth. While the Empire army was too far off to make out any details, Emma barked out a laugh.
Even with such a distance between them, they knew the Warpriest to not be deserving of their position. No presence. No experience. But the figure next to him, dressed in scorched black, radiated a confidence built from countless victories.
Adenius whispered something to Tobées, and the Warpriest addressed Al Pakris. He forgot to activate the Machina meant to enhance his speech. No one reminded him, as they did not have the time for it. Whatever he had prepared, Adenius put a hand on his shoulder, bringing an end to it.
Lacking the sheer presence of the Qa'an, Tobées failed to leave his mark on the battlefield. But his troops did.
After one short command, singing started from behind the dunes. A beautiful song. A hymn for Harras' praise and His endless love. Emma grimaced, hating the piece with a burning passion. Bereft of any skill or deeper complexity worth exploring and mastering. It was simple enough for a drunkard to mutter it. Or for a Sinner.
The stunned Zruns began to regain their composure, but they would not fly for the next moments, sealing their fate. The sand shook, and the Fallen Choir was unleashed.
"You had enough time watching!" Zonis yelled at them. "We have to leave!"
As the first naked figures sprinted over the dunes, Liron shuddered. The golden lines stretching across their bodies shone bright in the day. The Sinners moved with a strange stiffness. Like puppets controlled by a masterful hand, failing to appear organic and fluid as a human should. But they were fast ones, heading for the downed Zruns. Whether they would reach them before the remaining Qilesh soldiers did, Liron couldn't tell. Both sides had one target, and they headed for it without consideration for their own well-being.
Liron followed Zonis gladly.
They ran down steps leading into the underground of Al Pakris. Before the Silver Moon's arrival, the sun had shown no mercy on Sannara, heat ruling supreme with a cruel hand. The Sannarians had adapted in several manners, living with the desert instead of trying to dominate it. One such manner was to locate the majority of their cities underground.
Similar to the Flying Islands, a vast cave system stood underneath the holy place. Massive chambers containing the underground city. The houses down here were allowed more grandeur than the ones above, as the wind couldn't harm them. The Sannarians preferred a simple yet intimidating architecture. Their buildings consisted of boxy shapes. Old and battered paint had adorned their surface once, giving them life, but time had ripped it off the walls. Without them, without the artistry that belonged to them, the houses had a striking similarity to the Inquisition's bureau in Kupferrang.
Zonis and co. had lit up the different chambers, but they had lacked the time and resources beyond torches. They could make out the hidden city, but nothing more than the rough shapes. The other chambers remained distant silhouettes, only a faint flicker speaking of their presence, fighting off the darkness.
They had stepped into a coffin, disturbing the rest of the ones that lay here. Dust swirled around in the air, floating in the torches' shine. Liron could taste them on his tongue. The taste of something forgotten, abandoned by all human care.
Zonis led them down the stairs right into the streets of the city chamber. Al Pakris was a place of prayer and peace. The Sannarian tribes had warred against one another, but never here. The holy place was never meant to endure a battle or siege. It had no walls or any defense mechanism built into its infrastructure. The only signs of life were insect nests. Zonis had talked to the creatures down here, convincing them to wait in hiding, preparing themselves to battle the intruders. Liron knew their eyes to follow them. Only the Whisperer's presence prevented the beasts from ambushing them.
The ceiling shook, pebbles falling down. The Fallen Choir and Zruns had engaged each other. The faint sounds of butchery echoed through the caves, painting a grim picture of the savagery above. Al Pakris, once a place of serenity, was now soiled in the blood of the inhuman and the unfeeling. Of the ones robbed of their hearts so they could become sentient weapons.
Emma panted, struggling to keep up with them. As Liron had regained the strength to run, Shae had dismissed her Conduit, letting Emma use her own legs to move. She did not appreciate this. Again, her skipped training punished her. Liron wanted to sprint next to Zonis, the potion pressing him forward, but he slowed down, running next to his sister. She seemed happy by his presence, though her face melted under the effort. Her smile, thus, was one Liron could not read.
Dashing through the streets, Zonis guided them through the city chamber. He had familiarized himself with its structure, knowing how to navigate the cave. Emma groaned as they reached a staircase, rushing it upwards. Liron had to help with the last steps. She snorted like a dying dog, her face drenched in sweat.
The stairs connected to a narrow platform attached to the upper rims of the cave's ceilings. No two people could walk next to each other on them. Liron stayed behind his sister, keeping his hands on her shoulder, so she would not stumble over the stony railings and fall to her death. A doorframe was carved into the cave's wall, leading to a stuffed room.
Bran and most of the agents tinkered on bombs and other alchemical gear. A massive stone table stood in the midst of the room, filled with strange instruments and equipment required to craft their support. Zonis acknowledged them with a nod, hurrying towards something called a periscope. While the Sannarians had no need to defend themselves here, they had to watch the world upside down during a sandstorm. They had to read the signs of its end or locate poor souls that had failed to reach the stairs leading down.
Zonis grimaced upon looking through the periscope. "It's… it's a bloodbath."
Liron put the empty vial on the table, causing Bran to frown, looking at Shae and Emma. "Did you share with 'em?"
"I was supposed to?" Liron asked.
Bran mumbled. "You bloody donkey. O' course. Solia, be with me."
The young smith had prepared a few more vials, handing them to Shae and Emma. All exhaustion was driven out of them, granting them with a vigor as if they had just woken up from a deep slumber. Emma especially found pleasure in the effect of the potion, giggling like a mad woman to herself.
"Say, Bran," Liron said, "do you have more o' 'em? I could make good use o' 'em later on."
"You had already enough, you dimwit," Bran barked. "I mixed in some scorpion poison. Don't worry, not enough to kill you. But it has a strong punch. Drink another, and your heart will explode."
A comforting thought. One Liron would have ruminated longer than he should have if Zonis hadn't addressed them. "Adenius has deployed the army's Fides."
"What exactly?" Shae asked.
"Faithfuls and Tombbearers. The Fallen Choir has suffered great losses, but the Fides are taking the tide back. The Qa'an will deploy the main force of its arms in moments, forcing Adenius to do the same. We have to leave."
Zonis turned around. His presence alone caught the attention of all, the entire room waiting for his orders. "Take everything you need. We will move everything to the lower levels. The fighting will tear through here soon enough. Liron, Shae, and Emma, come with me."
Bran and the agents collected their equipment as Zonis walked out of the room. Liron, Shae, and Emma followed him. "Listen closely," he said. "Now is our chance. Once the fighting has started in earnest, we have to go for Adenius. We can't wait for Angin and Wran to eliminate him. Al Pakris will be torn apart.
"But we have to be careful. Adenius knows we are coming for him. He must have prepared something. We can't simply…"
Zonis couldn't finish his sentence, the ceiling rumbling. Cracks spread through certain portions, drill heads digging through it. The Qa'an had not forgotten about them.