Istara looked up at the moon. Its transit told her an hour had already slid past, yet they had covered no more than a quarter of the distance to the ruined city--the hidden depths of a multitude of shadowed crevices slowing their progress. Close by, a boulder tumbled into the ominous depths of a breach. She listened to its fall, waiting for it to strike bottom. Silence fell first.

Above the city: the glow of flames, orange-red. A haze of thick, acrid smoke slid over the walls and crept across the plain. Istara checked on Meresamun for what felt like the hundredth time, pressing her fingers against Meresamun's throat, searching for the beat of her lifeblood. Each time it was just a whisper slower. Soon it would cease.

"We are not going to make it," Urhi-Teshub murmured.

Tears bit into Istara's eyes, gritty from the city's smoke. She took Meresamun's hand in hers. "Please," she whispered, "live. You deserve so much more than this."

A low, deep thrum reverberated across the plain. Istara glanced at Urhi-Teshub, fearful. "Aftershock?" she breathed, hardly daring to utter the word.

He stopped, holding himself still, listening. "Not an aftershock," he answered, looking up, wary. "It comes from the sky. But what--"

"I remember that hateful sound like it was yesterday," Teshub said, grim, moving up alongside Urhi-Teshub. His eyes moved back and forth, raking the expanse of the starry canopy. "Marduk is coming. There. He's turning, heading this way." He pointed to the far side of the river, past the furthest walls of the eastern city.

Istara looked up, confused. What was she supposed to be looking for? A bird? At night? 

"Let us hope he is only out to look at the damage," Baalat said, joining Istara. "If he discovers us, do not tell him who we are. Let him think I am your companion, and Teshub is Urhi-Teshub's captain."

"Who? Marduk?" Istara asked, perplexed, glancing at Urhi-Teshub, though he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon above Babylon, smeared in black, oily smoke. "But he's a god, made of stone, how can he--"

"He is no god, though he would have you believe otherwise," Teshub interrupted, terse. "And apart from his heart, he is not made of stone, trust me."

On the far side of the city, a great black thing, as big an Egyptian pleasure barge, screamed through the sky, splitting the haze of the city's smoke into two, leaving swirling whorls rippling in its wake. Istara gaped at it, trying to understand what she was looking at. It hulked over the city, like a bird with its wings held outstretched, only they did not move up and down as a bird's would; instead they remained utterly still and rigid. It passed the outer walls of the western city, easing toward the plain, the roar of the thing deepening, sending a traitorous thrill of exhilaration up her legs. It approached, slow, circling them in a wide arc, sending the camels bolting, terrified, fleeing its blistering fire, blazing out from a pair of metal tubes at its rear.

"What is that thing?" Istara screamed, terror impaling her. She longed to throw herself to the ground, to press her face to the earth, to block out the sight of it. Her mind couldn't comprehend it, refused to accept it. Nothing but birds, bats, and insects flew through the skies. Anything else was a violation--the blackest of sorcery.

"The ship of a god," Urhi-Teshub yelled, his eyes burning with desire. "What I wouldn't give to have one of those!"

Metal legs with wheels at their base extended from the ship's body, supporting it as it came to rest a short distance away. The flames died, sudden, and the roar ended, the abrupt wall of silence deafening. The thing sat there, malevolent, made of dull, black metal. It hulked over the ground, its nose pointed downward, its body narrow, sleek, deadly. Steam hissed out from underneath its wings. Istara shrank back, dread clawing at her.

From the nearest side, just under the spot where the wing met the body, an opening appeared, the soft glow of white light within streamed out, illuminating the ground. A tall being clad entirely in black armor appeared in the opening. He touched something just inside the opening and three steps emerged from within the thing's body, smooth, seamless, floating in the air.

"We better kneel," Teshub muttered to Baalat, "and try to look frightened."

Istara knelt with the others, snatching furtive peeks at the being stepping down the wondrous stairs, his movements elegant, smooth, screaming of latent, brutal power. He picked his way over to them, agile, yet refined as a courtier.

He stopped in front of Urhi-Teshub, relaxed, confident, resting his gloved hands on a pair of strange weapons attached to his belt, the metal of them similar to silver, yet glinting far brighter than the finest bronze mirror caught in the light of the sun. His helmet, black-dark, smooth and featureless prevented Istara from seeing his face. Every part of him was covered, his armor unlike anything she had ever seen, reminding her of a scarab, the parts close-fitting, made to move with the joints of his body. It glinted, dull, in the moonlight. Metal, though not bronze--something else, something unknown.

He lowered himself into a crouch, and touched Meresamun's face with his black-gloved fingers. "Ninsunu," he said. His voice rasped, metallic, through the barrier of his helmet. His helmet tilted, following the drift of his fingers to her bloodied dress. He lifted it, gentle, and touched her wound. A panel on his armored wrist lit up, glowing, blue. He glanced at the strange symbols appearing on it and rose, sharp. "Come. She is almost gone. My regeneration device can make her whole again." He turned and began to walk back to his ship, his steps quicker than before.

"My lord, her name is Meresamun," Urhi-Teshub called out, still kneeling, uncertain.

The one Teshub called Marduk stopped. "Is that the name they gave her?" he asked over his shoulder. "It changes nothing. She is Ninsunu, daughter of Kadashman-Turgu, her blood has confirmed it."

"The king?" Istara breathed, stunned. Tearing her eyes from Marduk, she glanced at Meresamun, filled with wonder. If Marduk spoke the truth, then her companion was her equal.

"I'm going," Urhi-Teshub muttered, moving to his feet. "It's her only chance."

Teshub jerked him back down with a sharp shake of his head. "Great lord," he called out, his voice uncertain, fearful, nothing like the voice Istara knew he possessed, "your powers frighten us. We are afraid to follow."

Marduk turned, amusement rippling from him. "Ah. Of course you are. It is because I am a god. But you must come. I command it. If you don't, she will die, and that would displease me more than you could imagine." He turned again, lifting the back of his armored wrist to his mouth. He spoke into the device attached to it, and the ship lit up. Bright white lights blazed, fiery, blinding, burning with the light of the stars, the bird's entire underside illuminated, brilliant.

"He doesn't know," Baalat said under her breath as Marduk mounted the steps and his ship began to whine, a high-pitched, steady hiss. "I feared he might recognize us."

"As did I," Teshub muttered. "But it appears he is only interested in Meresamun." He cut a sharp look at Urhi-Teshub. "He must not find out who we are. Remember, if one of us dies, we both die."

Urhi-Teshub rose. "Agreed. But once this is over, I want answers." He tilted his head at the ship. "This takes things a little further than I expected." He walked away, unafraid, straight into the massive, menacing, metal monstrosity.

Istara followed after Baalat and Teshub, slower, hesitant, terror clawing at her, trying not to think about leaving the ground and flying away like a bird, trapped within the guts of a screaming, roaring, fiery creature.

She placed her foot on the bottom step, cautious, expecting the floating metal grid to crash to the ground. Nothing happened. It held, as solid as if it were made of stone. She hastened up the steps and clambered, stricken, into the creature's insides.