Soft white ash fell from the blank sky. It covered the mountain peaks with false snow, and whitewashed the city built on their lower slopes. It choked the well-paved streets, slipped into the neat houses, and blanketed the lush courtyard gardens in soft, dead gray.

Jenar and her daughter Zinira upon the landing spire of their house. Their faces, half hidden by scarves, were turned towards the mountain peaks. Finally Zinira pointed, "Here he comes."

A speck moved high above the mountains, often hidden by swirling ash. Jenar’s hands tightened on the railing.

"He will bring good news, Mother. We always beat the Nersi back at the Red Coast. This war will be no different."

"The ash is different." The ash came from the direction of Pelphirene, the second largest city west of the Black Lake. Pelphirene was fortified with vast ramparts of blood-red stone, and was garrisoned year-round against Nersi incursion. Jenar’s relatives lived there, often flying over the mountains to stay with her and to enjoy the luxurious excesses of Xac’len, the capitol city.

Jenar’s husband Jorak flew down in a flurry of ash. His face was a pallid crystal mask, his wings blotched and drooping. "Into the house, Zinira," he said harshly, "There is nothing to see here." The girl’s eyes widened with hurt and fright -- Jorak never snapped at her -- but she ducked inside obediently. Jorak followed her with his eyes, while Jenar looked at him, screaming silent orders at herself to not mirror that awful look on his face.

Jorak reached for her hand, half-unfurling one cold wing to brush against the warmth of hers. He said, "You must take her to the Xalaphan ship before noon. Carry what you can, but don’t overburden yourself. Once I deliver my report those ships will be mobbed, and you must be inside before then."

She stared at him. "The ships!?!"

"This ash is what is left of Pelipherine. They have fire that burns stone and mortar like dry wood."

"The caves--"

"Once the city was reduced to dust, they fed poison gas into the caves." Jenar let out a low cry. "They have won. Xac’len is a capitol, not a fortress. We have no defense except the mountains, and they will be over them before the sun sets. When they arrive, they will kill everyone, and you must be gone before then."

"But how will those monsters get off the ground? They‘ve never been tested!" The monsters she referred to were nine ships, each as big as a small palace, each capable of sustaining seven hundred Faerns through interplanetary space. Jenar had glimpsed the ungainly structures once, and refused to take a closer look.

"Five years ago the Enclave discovered how the Giants got their ships into orbit when they brought our ancestors from the ocean planet, and we‘ve equipped ours with similar drives. They aren’t-- they are very. . . costly. . . to run. But this time we have no choice. They will get you to the ocean planet."

"And when will you--?" She began, but the look on his face stopped her. "No," she whispered. "No! I will send Zinira with Lady Halfsten, and I will stay here."

"You must go."

"No!"

"Please," he whispered. "Tell Zinira I love her."

After he had flown away, Jenar stumbled blind down the stairs. She remembered nothing of how she packed, or how she guided her daughter through the growing unease in the streets. The ships were already powering up when they entered them. Great billows of foul, caustic steam came pouring from their bellies, and Jenar wanted to fly into it and stay there until it ate her very soul away. "Hurry, Zinira," she said.

The ships were crowded. They were directed to a room for the families of middle-rank officers, and from there they watched through the big windows. The crowds outside became ever more dense, hurried, and panicked as the sun sank towards the horizon. Ever more powerful rumblings came vibrating up through the floors as the massive engines below lashed themselves into wakefulness, and now they heard explosions also.

Just as the sun set a Nersi shell hit one of the ships, and the shockwave tore open the side of another. The engine noise of the remaining vessels rose to a tortured scream, and then there was an awful, awful roar that deafened everyone for days afterwards, and the ships rose agonizingly into the air on columns of white-hot flame. One, damaged by the shockwave, juddered to pieces and fell into its own inferno. For a minute no one could look out the windows, and when they did, most retreated with gray faces. The fire the ships had vomited so profusely had not died away. It pooled on the ground and spread... and grew. Already the crowded spaceport was gone, and as they watched, the fire swept slowly through the city. Walls dissolved at its touch; stone towers flamed like torches and collapsed in great billows of white ash.

Some of the women were wailing, but Jenar and Zinira stood silent, looking down at the undying flames. The ship-fire was like the Nersi’s weapons, only more awful, something that even the Nersi couldn’t control. This was their answer to the past year of unchecked devastation brought upon their land by the invaders. They were sacrificing their own cities, their own people, their own planet, to save themselves from extinction and annihilate their age-old enemy in one awful blow.

The ships stayed in high orbit for a week while repairs were made. The ship-fire grew and spread, and soon the Nersi cities were in flames also. The planet burned like a star, burned its atmosphere thin and poisonous, burned the topsoil off down to the red rock beneath. When the clouds cleared there was nothing left, just a lifeless ball of dusty red rock, and six ships crossing black space towards the ocean planet.