“Unsuccessful,” An-ehon droned.
And the panels all flared, and the air filled with sound that began too deep to hear and finished like thunder. The floor, the very foundations shook.
“Attack has been returned,” said An-ehon. “Shields have held.”
“Stop it,” Duncan shouted, pushed sen’ein brutally aside and broke through to Melein, stopped when Niun himself thrust a hand in his way. “Listen to me. That will be a class-one warship up there. You cannot beat it from earthside. We have no ship now, no way out do not answer fire. They can make a cinder of this world. Let me call them, let me contact them, she’pan.”
Melein’s eyes were terrible as they met his: suspicion, anger… in that moment he was alien, and close to the edge of her rage.
The thunder came again. The mri held their sensitive ears, and Melein shouted another order for attack.
“Target is passing out of range,” An-ehon said when the noise had faded. “Soon coming up over Zohain. Zohain will attack.”
“You cannot fight it,” Duncan shouted at them, and seized Niun’s arm, received from the mri a look that matched Melein’s. “Niun, make her see. Your shielding will not go on holding. Let me call them.”
“You see what good your signal from the ship did,” said Niun. “That is their answer to your signal of friendship. That is their word on it.”
“Zohain has fallen,” said An-ehon. “Shields did not hold. I am receiving alarm from Le’a’haen… There is another attack approaching this zone. Alarm… alarm… ALARM… ALARM….”
“Get your people out!” Duncan shouted at them.
Terror was written in the eyes of Melein and Niun, nightmare repeated: the floor shook. There was a rumbling crash outside the edun.
“Go!” Melein cried. “The hills, seek the hills!”
But she did not, nor Niun, while the Sen broke for the door, for outside, abandoning possessions, everything. Even over the sounds of An-ehon cries could be heard elsewhere in the edun.
“Get out, get out both of you,” Duncan pleaded. “Wait for a break hi the attack and get out of here. Let me try with the machine.”
Melein turned to Niun, ignoring him. “Kel’anth, lead your people.” And before Niun could move, she looked up at the banks that were An-ehon. “Continue to fight. Destroy the invaders.”
“This city is holding,” droned the machine. “Outer structures may be drained of shielding to protect the edun complex. When this city falls, there are others. We are coordinating defenses. We are under multiple attack. We advise immediate evacuation. We advise the she’pan to secure her person. Preservation of her person is of overriding importance.”
-“I am leaving,” Melein said; and to Duncan, for Niun had gone: “Come. Haste.”
He thrust past her, to the console. “An-ehon,?’ he said, “give me communication ”
“Do not permit it!” Melein shouted, and the machine struck, a force that lit the air and hurled him numb and cold against the floor.
He saw her robes pass him, and she was running, running, down the center of sen-hall, with the floor shuddering under renewed attack… it shook beneath him, and he tried repeatedly to gather his numbed limbs under him.
The floor bucked.
“Alarm… ALARM… ALARMLLL…” cried An-ehon.
He rolled his head, dragged a shoulder over, saw areas of the banks going dark.
And the floor shook again, and the lights began dimming.
There was a time of quiet.
He found it possible finally to move his legs, arms, to drag himself up, and he staggered through littered sen-hall into the winding corridor down to main hall. A great shadow met him there, his dus, that almost threw him off his feet in the pressure of its body: he used it then, leaning on it, and staggered past the litter that confused the hall, and out into the light, the open city there began to see the dead, old sen’ein, children of the Kath a kel’en, crushed by a toppling wall.
He found Sa’er, a huddled shape in blue at the bottom of the ramp, a golden hand clenched about a stone, a face open-eyed and dusty with the sand of Kutath.
“Ka’aros!” he called with all the strength in him, remembering her son, and there was no answer.