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gesturing to his followers, Equo could understand a little of why they were all so fanatical in their devotion.
    The eye kept drifting to him, but not because he was particularly handsome. Instead it was as if the air bent around him; it hung around his shoulders like a cloak. Equo was only glad that the eye patch remained in place; no one who had seen beyond it wanted to see it again. The raw magic of the Void between Worlds had taken up residence in there and changed him forever.
    Baraca had once been a friend to Equo, Si and Varlesh; an old companion that was now leading the rebels against the Caisah. It was the first major uprising in mortal memory. The trio of men, however, remembered the previous one.
    Perhaps that was what caused the knot of dread in Equo’s stomach. The tyrant had put down more rebellions in his immortal reign over Conhaero than any of them could count. His methods had not become any more diplomatic with time. This one appeared to be beginning well for the rebels, but so too had many of the others. Equo did not have much optimism left to spare on this endeavor.
    When the howls came from above them in the clouds, Equo felt his spirits lift. The Swoop dropped from the sky like vengeance personified. Hawks, eagles, buzzards and falcons, birds of beak and talon, moved together in a formation that no natural predator would have contemplated. They shot over the heads of the descending rebels and split neatly into two sections; one peeled off north while the other descended to the rear, where as yet the Rutilian guard had not noticed anything different.
    Across the canyon, One-eyed Baraca was nearly down among the guard, leaping energetically from outcrop to cliff face with more athleticism than any mortal could manage. The sword in his hand gleamed, and Equo could almost feel sorry for the Caisah’s troops.
    The Swoop sealed the trap at both ends. The white light bloomed where the birds swooped to the earth; when it cleared, there were the scions of the Lady of Wings in all their glory, young women in shining silver armor.
    Originally they had been the defenders of the Manesto, following the scion that had led their tribe through the Void to Conhaero. Then the Caisah had come, done away with the scions somehow, and taken the Swoop for his own. Now, under the leadership of Azrul, the Swoop had managed to break free of that and dedicated themselves to this new Avatar, One-eyed Baraca. Whether that had been a good decision had not yet played out, just as it remained to be seen for Equo, Varlesh and Si.
    The time for thinking was not now. Equo took a place at Varlesh’s side as they joined the hurried scamper down to crush the guard in their pincer movement. Si, their fey, gentler part had remained behind at the camp with the Vaerli seer Nyree.
    The narrowness of the canyon certainly leveled the playing field. With the Swoop acting as a plug at each end, the number advantage the guard always had was nullified; in fact, it began to work against them. As troops at front and rear went hand to hand with the fury of the Swoop, others behind were rendered unable to move or get into action, so that when troops above them in the canyon began to fire arrows into the mass, panic began.
    Baraca’s pikemen began to use the extra length of their weapons to punch down into the confused mass of guards. It was terrible work that should have made Equo ill, but his brain was no longer engaged; the mob and the rush of blood had taken over.
    The smell of sweat, blood and spilled guts was primal and compelling. He found himself yelling along with the rest, thrusting and stabbing whatever he could find. Standing in a rank of fellow soldiers, he and Varlesh abandoned themselves to the unit. It was a taste of the power they had experienced when they had been not three but one.
    Flesh had been the domain of the Form Bards, and yet here they were cutting and destroying it. The Song they had shared had been about beauty and control,