Tactical Retreat
Flay dove off the top of the inner walls, and into the chaos below.
Where she had been a blast of fire shook the earth, spraying shards of black chitin in all directions. She hit the ground hard, crushed beneath the weight of bodies that stepped over her, both Black Formian and Ysoki kicking her back down.
For a moment, she tried to find that sheer force of will -- that undefinable state of being -- that would allow her to vanish from this place, and cut at the target in her mind's eye. The thrill never came. Just another foot digging into her back, her spine repeating its frequent desire for her armor to come back.
The Formian on top of her shivered, and then fell to one side, cracking the back of its head on the walls. A furry hand descended into the madness, covered from shoulder to fingertips in blood, and pulled her up.
It was Roar in the River, the only Technomancer she knew of in the Ikal Expanse -- a geek for video games and technologies of the outside worlds. Such frivolities felt like distant ghosts now...
River: "I got you!"
Flay: "Thanks!" She took the opportunity to look out at the battlefield, and the remnants of the siege ladder they'd climbed to reach the top of the inner walls. Ten days of this madness, and they were no closer to victory. The Daemon leaders had come out in force, hurling their spells from outside the range of their arrows, and devastated any vector of attack. Whether or not they held the space between the inner and outer walls was a function of night and day, waining with the Formian's nocturnal strength. Life of Whispers slid through a gap in the mass of bodies, dodging a Formian claw, and healing magic spread from her hands. Flay sighed as some of the burns healed, and the little cuts on her back closed. Flay: "Where is Dances?" Life of Whispers pointed back to the outer wall, where Clouds and his wife were pushing through wounded Ysoki, and holding the line. As Flay looked to them, she met Clouds' eyes. He shook his head. Flay called the retreat. River summoned up flame, opening a path back, and Whispers -- well, she whispered -- and the Formians leapt away from her, as if she were driving knives into their minds. They took their time gathering up the wounded, and Flay counted the dead. Not their worst attempt, but these losses weren't sustainable. Worse, with each further loss, their hopes of a full-on retreat became less and less likely, as the Formians would be able to overwhelm them as they ran. As the crossed back over the wall, River seemed to notice her thoughts, and put a calming hand on her shoulder. River: "Unari will show us the way. He always has." Flay could only nod. Visions flashed before her eyes -- images of Jestyr, a dagger shaped like a feather, and Unari's sudden demise... She looked up to the Formian spire. That insurmountable distance -- the difference between the safety of her people, and their destruction. She tried again. To close that distance with her mind. To cleave that tower in half. Nothing changed.
Flay: "Thanks!" She took the opportunity to look out at the battlefield, and the remnants of the siege ladder they'd climbed to reach the top of the inner walls. Ten days of this madness, and they were no closer to victory. The Daemon leaders had come out in force, hurling their spells from outside the range of their arrows, and devastated any vector of attack. Whether or not they held the space between the inner and outer walls was a function of night and day, waining with the Formian's nocturnal strength. Life of Whispers slid through a gap in the mass of bodies, dodging a Formian claw, and healing magic spread from her hands. Flay sighed as some of the burns healed, and the little cuts on her back closed. Flay: "Where is Dances?" Life of Whispers pointed back to the outer wall, where Clouds and his wife were pushing through wounded Ysoki, and holding the line. As Flay looked to them, she met Clouds' eyes. He shook his head. Flay called the retreat. River summoned up flame, opening a path back, and Whispers -- well, she whispered -- and the Formians leapt away from her, as if she were driving knives into their minds. They took their time gathering up the wounded, and Flay counted the dead. Not their worst attempt, but these losses weren't sustainable. Worse, with each further loss, their hopes of a full-on retreat became less and less likely, as the Formians would be able to overwhelm them as they ran. As the crossed back over the wall, River seemed to notice her thoughts, and put a calming hand on her shoulder. River: "Unari will show us the way. He always has." Flay could only nod. Visions flashed before her eyes -- images of Jestyr, a dagger shaped like a feather, and Unari's sudden demise... She looked up to the Formian spire. That insurmountable distance -- the difference between the safety of her people, and their destruction. She tried again. To close that distance with her mind. To cleave that tower in half. Nothing changed.
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