Yes, this would be a battle to be remembered in theSaga of Seven Suns.

Sullivan Gold stood at the edge of the command nucleus. Quiet until now, the old man let out a gasp as the long-range images sharpened on the screen. “My God! Is thatallof the faeros?”

Space around Ildira was clogged with a blizzard of fireballs, an incandescent storm of new faeros that Rusa’h had created by consuming the soul-fires of helpless Ildirans.

“We will defeat them.” Zan’nh allowed no doubt whatsoever to dilute his words.

His helmsman suddenly let out a surprised cry. “We are accelerating, Adar. I am no longer in control of this warliner.” He lifted his hands helplessly. “We are being pulled along.”

Zan’nh understood. “Yes — by our allies. The wentals are leading the charge now.” He did not try to hide his anticipation. “Prepare for the first clash.”

The water elementals propelled the Solar Navy ships forward like huge spearpoints, hundreds of battleship-sized projectiles. The faeros gathered, as if curious but unconcerned about this charge. Some swept toward the wental-swathed ships, while others ricocheted away like sparks on a wind.

Two anxious Confederation pilots shot several wental-ice shells in a preemptive flurry. Even though their panicked targeting was poor, the projectiles swerved of their own volition and plunged into a group of faeros, snuffing them out in a combined misty explosion.

The Solar Navy warliners accelerated as the warrior wentals raced to find targets. Zan’nh gripped the rail, forced to do nothing more than watch the battle because he could not control the movement of his own ship. As Adar, he was used to making the strategy and giving the orders.

One blazing fireball careened directly into their path, wreathed in huge arcs of fire. The flagship plunged directly toward it.

“Adar!” the helmsman yelped.

The mist-cocooned warliner hurtled into the inferno — and passed entirely through. When the scrabbling flames tried to catch at their scrolled hull ornamentation, deadly water vapor snarled around the faeros, tearing it apart. As if poisoned, the flaming creature writhed and flickered. The flagship soared away from the scraps of flame, its anodized hull plates smoking but undamaged.

Zan’nh felt an electric crackle of enthusiasm through thethism. Again directed by the wentals, the big warliner shifted course and headed after another faeros.

The Adar took his own initiative. “Port and starboard gun batteries, shoot your wental artillery shells. Make every projectile count.” The Solar Navy soldiers were eager to comply. He watched on his screens, pleased to see the white streaks fly out like sunlit arrows to strike fireballs. Meanwhile, commandeered by the wentals, his warliner charged from one faeros to another like the maddened mount of an Ildiran jouster.

The bulk of the Solar Navy followed, commencing similar attacks of their own. Behind them flew a wave of disorganized Confederation vessels, seeking out and extinguishing ellipsoids, firing their frozen projectiles into any incandescent target.

Zan’nh’s chest swelled with pride and triumph — feelings that had been too long absent in him. So far, hundreds of fireballs had been snuffed out. After regrouping, the allied ships dove in again, seeking other targets, and now the faeros swiftly retreated to avoid the new threat.

“Never thought I’d see that — they’re actually running away!” Sullivan said.

Osira’h stared, unblinking. “They are starting to realize what we have brought against them. Rusa’h should begin to fear.”

The command nucleus received several transmissions from outlying Solar Navy scoutships that fought on the perimeter of the solar system. “Liege! Something is happening in the suns. The faeros have opened more transgates.”

On the relayed image, the seven stars of Ildira had become gateways from hell. Thousands of fireballs emerged from the stellar furnaces. Traveling through solar transgates from the numerous suns they inhabited across the Spiral Arm, the faeros all came rushing toward Ildira.

146

Prime Designate Daro’h

Even without the Prism Palace, even without Mijistra, the Ildiran Empire remained alive. The Empirewas still alive! Prime Designate Daro’h encouraged everyone to remember that.

When the crashing spacedocks had obliterated the wondrous capital city, the blow might have crushed the Ildiran spirit, but Daro’h held on to certitude for his entire race. As Prime Designate, that was his responsibility.

After Designate Ridek’h had returned to tell his story, exhausted but alive, the boy seemed stronger now, and his eyes wore a different look. He had faced the faeros incarnate, expecting to be incinerated. He had not known Nira’s half-breed children could shield him. Now, back in their shelters deep in the mines, the Prime Designate, as well as Osira’h’s siblings, accepted his survival as another sign of Ildiran fortitude.

But with the faeros gone for a short while at least, Daro’h’s people could recover their strength. With all his heart, the Prime Designate believed that Adar Zan’nh would free the Mage-Imperator. And as he believed it, so did the rest of the Ildirans, drawing confidence from their directthism connection to him.

To demonstrate his resolve, Daro’h emerged from his shelter deep in the mountains, calling his people to follow him out of their caves and mines. Beside him, Yazra’h gave a feral smile of pride in her half brother. “We cannot hide forever,” she said.

Stepping out of the tunnels, the frightened people blinked in the sunlight, glad to see the comforting suns again. Through thethism, Daro’h could feel the rejuvenation of the collective racial psyche, the surge of confidence. That confidence waned somewhat, as the long-isolated Ildirans saw firsthand the extent of the damage to the landscape.

Through the soul-threads that connected them all, Daro’h pressed his conviction on them. With his mind, with his determination, he rallied the people. “We will go back to Mijistra!” Along the way, he decided they would bring together refugees from their camps, find the many displaced kiths that had scattered across the landscape.

Despite his recent confrontation with the faeros incarnate and the news that his mentor Tal O’nh had died aboard the flaming shipyards, Ridek’h was one of the first to volunteer to go. Nira’s four half-breed children also insisted on walking in the lead, beside Daro’h.

After several long and wearisome days, the company reached the blackened ruin of Mijistra. When the Prime Designate looked out at the expanse of shattered buildings and flattened rubble, the collective wave of despair from his people nearly caused him to waver. Those who had come with him could not see beyond the charred remnants of what had once been the glory of their ancient empire.