Stained Glass Monsters by Andrea Höst

dozens, perhaps
even hundreds , cramming through in one concerted rush.
    Leaning out, Rennyn strained to see the
blockade at the head of the street. Movement: fire, flickering
shadows, the occasional flash which told her mages were at work.
Most of the Eferum-Get would not have engaged directly, but simply
run. They would burrow into Asentyr, away from the people with
blades and flame, and then they would hunt. They–
    Rennyn gasped again, and broke into
another fit of coughing, the price to be paid for taking a breath
in the Eferum. The group in front of the burning building were
mostly Sentene, but there was a small collection of more ordinary
folk in their centre, clinging to each other protectively. At their
fore was a dark-haired youth clutching his abdomen, the focus of
all their attention. Rennyn shook her head in utter disbelief, then
twisted shadows into a pocket and took herself below.
    "Seb."
    "Ren!"
    Seb was used to Rennyn's favourite
castings and simply sagged with relief when she appeared before
him. The woman behind him screamed, and there was a brief flurry of
movement from the Sentene which Rennyn ignored, staring at the dark
blood leaking around the pad of cloth her brother was clutching to
his stomach.
    "What was it?" she asked.
    "Irisian, I think," he said, voice
shaking. His eyes were wide and agonised, not only with pain, but
with the magnitude of disaster. And the effects of the poison an
Irisian would have left in him.
    "And you are here why?"
    "There was a girl. I know I – you were
right. About watching people. I – Ren–"
    "Enough. I understand." She squeezed his
shoulder. "You're still alive, Seb. Anything else is secondary."
And, in truth, their long-term goals weren't even an issue at the
moment. To which point she turned to the Sentene watching her and
asked: "Which of you is in charge?"
    "I am." One of the Kellian, a woman
wearing a sword but carrying the slate which was the classic symbol
of a mage. Rennyn had known there was a Kellian mage, but if she
posed an added danger it didn't seem to be immediate.
    "If I draw them to me, can you stand
against so many?"
    "Draw–?!" someone behind her began, but
broke off.
    The Kellian in charge weighed the
question, her reactions hidden by the all-enveloping uniform.
"Suitably prepared, yes. Where will you cast?"
    "The centre-point of the breach."
    "We will need to reinforce our numbers."
The woman turned away, and began relaying orders in a voice notable
for a thready, reedy quality. "Essan, Steen, take these out of
here, and inform Lady Weston. Bring back the second squad, and the
Hands." She paused as one of the shadows clinging to the wall
opposite the fire made a sudden movement, then added: "See the boy
gets treatment."
    An Irisian's poison wasn't immediately
fatal, but it would be a battle to keep Seb alive through the
night. Rennyn nodded to acknowledge that addition, then leaned down
to press her cheek against her brother's, murmuring: "Stay alive,
stay quiet. We'll get through this."
    "I'm sorry, Ren."
    "I'll only be angry if you die on me,
little brother."
    She let him go, carried easily by one of
the Kellian while the other herded the civilians and watched for
attack. Rennyn strode in the opposite direction, immediately
flanked by four Sentene. Her mind was reeling through consequences,
incredulous at the sheer numbers of the incursion, shrinking from
the possibility of Seb dying, and the sudden unravelling of a
sixty-year plan. But reaching the breach point, she made herself
stop thinking of anything but the now, taking her box of chalk from
her skirt pocket and rapidly sketching out the kind of circle she'd
need onto the road's slabs of stone. At least the Temple District
wasn't cobbled.
    Three concentric rings of sigils. Not a
quick task, but that allowed the reinforcements time to arrive, and
they had their own preparations to make. When she looked up, she
found herself surrounded by mages holding closely-written slates
and standing