The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [20]
“If you isolate him from all Ildiran contact, he’ll go insane,” Nira cried. “Even the Mage-Imperator can’t bear that.”
“Oh, dear. That hadn’t occurred to me.” The Chairman’s voice was rich with sarcasm. “He can change his mind anytime he likes.” He waited, but Jora’h did not respond. Annoyed, Basil Wenceslas shook his head. “I am so tired of people being obstinate and intractable instead of pulling their own weight to solve a crisis that affects us all.” As if a timer had gone off, he signaled the guards in the hall. “That is all the time I can devote to the matter. I must get back to Earth. Admiral Diente has his orders. Enjoy your solitary journey, Mage-Imperator. I trust it will help you to think more clearly.”
* * *
10
Prime Designate Daro’h
Mijistra was on fire, and the faeros reveled in it.
Thanks to the sacrifices of countless guard kithmen, Prime Designate Daro’h had escaped from the Prism Palace along with his sister Yazra’h and Nira’s five half-breed children. They had barely gotten away from the flaming avatar of Rusa’h as he surged through the crystalline corridors, destroying everything in his path.
On a barren hilltop far outside of Mijistra, Daro’h ached as he observed the sprawling shape of the glorious city. In the distance, the faeros continued to bombard the Ildiran capital.
To save as many of his people as possible, the Prime Designate had commanded a mass exodus, ordering all kiths to flee into the countryside while fireballs continued to hover over the skyline. Crowds of refugees streamed into the open hills, following rivers, looking for places to hide. Several Solar Navy warliners cruised low to the ground, delivering more survivors and supplies.
Next to Daro’h, Yazra’h also stared at the spectacle, her eyes like hard chips of topaz. His sister’s mane of long, coppery hair drifted in the breeze. “Clustering together makes the people vulnerable. They have no defenses if the faeros decide to incinerate them. They cannot fight.” Although one of her Isix cats had been burned to death during Rusa’h’s conquest, the remaining two prowled around her legs.
“So far the faeros have not chosen to attack,” Daro’h said. “I must postulate — I must believe — that annihilating the Ildiran people does not serve the faeros plans. Rusa’h seems to be in control of them. He wants something more — the Mage-Imperator, perhaps.”
But their father was not on Ildira. In fact, no one knew where Jora’h was.
Yazra’h crossed her arms over her chest. “Nevertheless, I will not let you stay in one of the open camps or exposed villages, Prime Designate.”
“You want me to hide.”
She gave him a hard look. “I want you to survive. I swore an oath to protect you.” With the Mage-Imperator missing, Ildirans had no one else to look to; Daro’h was their de facto leader.
Yazra’h had found a set of deep caves and mining tunnels in the mountains not far from Mijistra. “I have chosen the best defensive location I can. Adar Zan’nh is anxious to take you there.” She glanced uneasily up at the sky. “He feels you are too vulnerable out here, and so do I.”
Daro’h held his overwhelmed emotions in check, so they would not bleed into the thism. “Although it pains me to surrender our city to the faeros, we must choose our battles wisely.” He took a last look at the troop carriers and supply streamers crisscrossing the skies. “I will do as you suggest. Summon the Adar.”
Riding aboard a small, swift cutter, Daro’h sat next to one of the windows, staring out at the landscape, shocked by how much it had changed. Osira’h and her half-breed siblings had joined him as well, singed and bedraggled but very much alive.
“We are establishing as many camps as we can,” Zan’nh reported, piloting the cutter himself. “The Solar Navy is delivering food, medical supplies, tools, and prefabricated shelters.”
The Adar had already learned that his warliners could not fight the blazing ships directly; to extinguish a single fireball,