The snow had come heavily, all through the night. Cyrus did not sleep, but he lay down next to Aisling in the tower room, the fire crackling and shedding warmth now. The sweet smell of wood smoke harkened him back to thoughts of Sanctuary, but he found less comfort in them than he would have imagined. A dull, gnawing feeling ate at him from the thought of it, of going home, he realized. The smell of meat pies came back to him, whether from thoughts of Sanctuary or memories of the days before, when he was a child in a home of his own, with a mother and father, he knew not which. Alone. Itas how I lived, from the day Belkan dropped me at the Society to the day I a what? Made my first prayer to Bellarum? Met Narstron? Perhaps. Married Imina? He grimaced. Doubtful. She knew I felt the call to war more than to stay with her. From the day I a There was the flash again, in his mind, of blond hair, of a sword in motion, laying open foes on a battlefied. Of a sharp voice and sharper wit, of her fluid motion in a fight, and of her face a oh gods, her face a From the day I joined Sanctuary. Even the echo of the words only in his mind was as loud as any battle; it resonated in the quiet night of his chamber, and even the presence of Aisling against his side, almost purring, was no consolation.

Dawn found him unrested, and he wondered if he had shut his eyes at all after returning to bed. Terianas words rattled in his head, thoughts of the man he was plagued him, of who he had been.

He rose, ate breakfast with the others in a somber feast in a room at the bottom of the stairs, the brothers quietly bringing them porridge. No one spoke, not even Martaina, though she looked to be of a mind to say something at one point. When finished, they filed outside. The courtyard had filled with snow during the early morning hours, and still it came down heavily, lying already in drifts up to mid-calf on the women, Cyrus noted upon seeing Aisling slip into it. She cringed and he knew that wet slush had fallen into her leather shoes, low as they ran to the ground.

The horses were saddled and waiting, and the same stable boy brought Cyrus his reins. He took them wordlessly, the ladas shining face not adding any brightness to an already dim mood. The snowfall was lighter now than it had been last night, but the crunch of it underfoot, the way it drowned out all the distant noises and made the land still and quiet was deeply unnerving, especially before battle. The remnants of his cinnamon porridge, sweetened with cream, still hung on his moustache and beard, and he could taste the sugar still lingering on his tongue. He pulled tight his cloak again once he was on Windrideras back, and the horse started off right away, without even a prompting from him, heading toward the north courtyard, following Longwellas lead in this case.

Briyce Unger and Milos Tiernan were already waiting, having a quiet conversation with aides behind them, ahorse. As Longwell approached they each gave a nod of courtesy and were off, toward the gate north, out through it and then the second gate beyond, where the world opened up before them. The snowflakes forced Cyrusas eyes to squint every few minutes. He blinked them away when needed, but a few minutes later they would return, and he would brush them off his face. It was a steady path to madness, he was certain, but his coat began to become wet, and his armor chill, the inside padding saving him from the worst of the cold.

They rode out, and the army of Galbadien joined them past the forest road, falling into line behind them. Others rode out from the east as well, the other armies of Actaluere that had filtered up. Cyrus rode at the fronta"the tip of the spear, he liked to think of ita"with the Kings and his own command. He looked back and wondered, trying to see through the snow, stealing a look at the army of Actaluere.

Tiernan caught his eye when he looked back around, and there was a slight smile on the King of Actaluereas face. aHeas not here, of course.a Cyrus blinked at Milos Tiernan. aWho?a aHoygraf,a Tiernan said with a smug look. aCanat be of much good since you gutted him; he remains in his lands, along with a considerable contingent of Actaluereas troops.a The smile was gone now, and it became somewhat shrewd as a look, giving Cyrus the slightest hint that the King was holding something back.

aWouldnat we be better off with his men coming along with us?a Cyrus asked, keeping his eye on Tiernan.

aWe have about a third of them with us,a Tiernan replied, now turned to look in the direction he was riding, giving Cyrus a sideways profile. He had not noticed before, but the Kingas chin was weak, withdrawn. aThe rest remain as a sort of reservea"insurance, if you will, against any sort of strike by Galbadien or Syloreas against our holdings.a aSpeaking for Galbadien,a Longwell said from his place not far away, on the other side of Cyrus, awe have no intention to strike at you, nor do we have any forces left in our country with which to do so if we wanted.a He shrugged, his pointed helm with a hawklike visor giving him a predatory edge. aThough I suppose if you wanted to, Barona"Iam sorry, Grand Duke Hoygrafa"could just about march to Vernadam without any sort of serious opposition.a aGood to know,a Tiernan said without any sort of pleasure. aBut my greater concern is the refugees of Syloreas that pour through my borders unfettered even now. We give them all the charity we can, but it is a risk, however slight, that they may decide to turn on my people. The troops who remain are there to keep the peace. Refugees are hungry, after all, and sometimes desperate, and I donat wish to see my people bear the brunt of an angry, starving mass cutting a rugged path across our landscape.a aWhat exactly do you think theyall be doing,a Briyce Unger asked, athis hungry, starving mass of desperation?a The umbrage was obvious from the way he said it. aCapturing Caenalys? Sacking your treasure room?a aI worry more about the farmers in the northern reaches,a Tiernan said bluntly. aStarving people do desperate thingsa"like, say, murder a man for food. Form a mob and destroy a town while trying to get fed. I am doing what I can for charity, but I must also preserve my peopleas safety. I would hope, were our roles reversed, you would understand that.a Cyrus could see that Unger did not, but the King of Syloreas did not voice whatever irritation he held. He guided his horse away from the discussion, though, away from Tiernan and back to a thick knot of his aides who rode at the front of the formation. Cyrus could see them casting glances every now and again, though, and he did not like the look of them at all.

With the snow slowing their pace, and even more the walking speed of the men on foot, the great army of Luukessia took the better part of the day to get to the flat lands that had been marked for the site of their battle. There were no tents set up when they arrived, but fires were set. The whole camp was a buzz of subdued activity; quiet in the gloom, the snow still coming down. There were whispers, rumors, flat-out lies, and all of them reached Cyrusas ears as he walked through the encampment, alone, his feet crunching through the snow. Men were huddled near fires for warmth; and every once in a good while he saw a woman in armor or with a sword. There was thin stew cooking and not much else. A skin of ice was broken off a nearby creek for drinking water and for boiling, and latrines were set up over a hill to the rear. Coming back from them, Terian said, aI suggest we try and lead the scourge in that direction when they come; itall be certain to send them running back to the north.a aEven on such a cold day as this?a Martaina had her bow out and was fletching, working on arrows, putting tips upon shafts she had carved while gathering wood earlier. The shafts had a wet look to them, and when she caught Cyrus looking she shrugged. aI work with what I have.a The night came upon them early, and no sign of the aurora was to be had under the cloudy, still-snowing skies. It was quiet in the camp, though Cyrus wondered how many men were actually sleeping. The snows came down on them, and still no tents had been set up; the need for mobility and a quick retreat trumped comfort, and so tens of thousands of men and a few hundred women lay beneath a sky that wafted snow down upon them. Aisling lay next to him, of course, and as much as she had tried to take his mind off of all matters, it had not worked as it did before, and he lay awake again, unease hanging over him as he hoped sleep would claim him, yet knowing that it would not.

Dawn was a grim affair, and the snow went ever on, unhalting, now almost a foot deep. It flurried hard in spurts then reduced to a manageable few flakes before picking up again. The wind howled, sending icy slaps hard against the men who were standing around fires that were whipped with every gust. They kept their heads low, their cowls and collars up to get warmth by any means they could find.

The first messenger for the army came an hour after daybreak, when pickled eggs, hard cheese and bread were being eaten by the armies of Actaluere and Galbadien. The Sanctuary members ate conjured bread and water with their supplies. An uneasy quiet hung in the air until the messenger appeared, a half-elf, half-human warrior whom Cyrus knew only in passing. The man was exhausted, it was obvious, his eyes red with fatigue. He whispered a few words to Curatio and then stumbled into the nearest bedroll, not even bothering to care that it wasnat his own.

aTheyall be here within hours,a Curatio said. aPerhaps two, perhaps a little more, depending on how well our efforts to hold them back go. The whole line is exhausted; which should not be surprising, as theyave been performing a strategy of engaging and falling back for months now. When we left them a week ago,a he gave a quick nod to Terian, aI wondered if theyad be able to hold for as long as it would take. I suppose they have.a aHow is our force doing?a Cyrus asked.

aFaring well,a Curatio said, snow turning his hair white. aTheyave never once been the cause of a retreat. Itas become obvious, though, that these things are drawn to life, absolutely drawn to it. They doggedly come at us, ignore the possibility of pulling a wide flanking maneuver; weave seen them break off in numbers when we pass a village that still has occupants. They go, they slaughter, they return with bloodied faces. I honestly thought theyad take longer to get here, but it would appear the army is wearier than even I thought.a Cyrus looked at the messenger, already well asleep. aWeall give them as much rest as we can afford. Hopefully this fresh army pouring into the fight will allow us to push forward.a Curatio smiled and nodded. aLet us hope.a aTheyave changed,a came the muffled words of the man laying on the bedroll, the half-elf. aTheyare more dogged now, trying to flank more.a He didnat roll over, but turned his head slightly. aThey come at our weaknesses, too; not that they didnat before, but Odellan says itas worse now, as though they can exploit them, sense their flaws and approaches. More strategy, less brutal anger. Thereas something else, too.a The half elf rolled over and looked at Cyrus through half-lidded eyes. aThereas a master, we think. One that stays in the distance, but we see him. Tall as two men, a four-legged creature, and it bears a mark of sorts. It stands off, growls at the others, and they move almost like it tells them to. Weave had archers try and kill it, but it stays out of range of spells and arrows.a He looked directly at Cyrus. aWe think itas their General, the thing that leads them.a Cyrus felt the cold wind pick up in a gust just then, carrying the sounds around his ears like a howling of the wind. The snow fell on, down around them, and the quiet descended again, except for the wind, as he sat there near the firea"and derived no warmth from it at all.

Chapter 81.

The snowfall was at a blessed slowdown as they stood all in a line, a quarter mile from the campsite. Cyrusas nose hairs felt well frozen, and every breath just added to the searing pain behind his cheeks and eyes, as though someone had taken a frozen hammer and tapped behind them gently for quite some time. His sweat had frozen to his skin, and whatever breakfast head eatena"he could little recall now what it had beena"was sitting poorly, and threatening to come back up. The cold had seeped to the bone and all was quiet save for the roar of the wind when it picked up. It ran with near continuousness now, driving the snow sideways at its worst and at a forty-five degree angle at best.

It was the sound that reached them first, the yells and battle cries of men weary and desperate. They saw them shortly thereafter, in the distance, through the haze made by the snow.

aThis is an ill time and place for a fight,a Terian said, and Cyrus glanced over to realize that the dark knight was next to him.

aBecause we can see little, our cavalry is unable to operate in the heavy snow and our infantry is slowed to being unable to advance?a Cyrus let the irony seep in as he said it.

aAlso, itas colder than your elven girlfriendas touch and weare relieving an army thatas likely to break from fatigue as soon as they realize weare here to take up for them.a His eyes glittered in the bare light of a sun that none of them could see. aIf they manage to let us take over as the front line without breaking, it will be a miracle of military discipline of the highest order.a Cyrus looked forward to the line stretched in front of him, and saw others closer, the walking wounded, and a few carrying men on makeshift stretchers made of bedrolls and all manner of other things. aWould I be wrong in assuming there wonat be many wounded?a aMost have been left behind,a Terian answered. aIt became obvious after you left that our healers were not nearly enough to handle the entire army under sustained assault; they lacked the magical energy to come close to saving everyone. The Luukessians played it carefully after that; if a man fell and ended up behind the enemyas line, he was given up lost so as not to cost five more trying to recover him.a The dark knight set his jaw. aItas an ugly thing, what they do to those who fall. I wouldnat wish it on anybody. Our rangers nearly ran out of arrows putting the poor bastards out of their misery.a aWe lose any of ours that way?a Cyrus asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

aCouple of disappearances,a Curatio said from behind Cyrus. The army of Galbadien and Actaluere sandwiched the small group of them on either side. aLikely fell in the night and we didnat see or hear them, you know a in the heat of the battle.a You mean in the midst of all the men screaming, Cyrus thought, but did not say. Hard to tell if the scream comes from a man of Sanctuary or one of the Luukessians when youare bunched tight together along a front line.

The army before them was still falling back in tatters, only a few scant rows deep. Cyrus could see the Sanctuary numbers, the largest part of the force. The army of Actaluere was much reduced over when last he saw it, easily a quarter the size. There were almost none of the Sylorean civilians remaining, the farmers and villagers that had been on his right when theyad fought at Filsharron. The Sylorean army looked smaller, too, and ragged, though it was hard to tell since they had been the most ragged at the outset of the fight.

aItas the New Year today, did you know that?a Terian looked over at Cyrus. aThe Solstice will be here in only a week or so.a He flashed his gaze to the fight, now only a few hundred feet away. aDo you suppose this will be over by then?a Cyrus felt his jaw tighten; talking to Terian was the most natural thing in the world when he didnat think about it. When he did a aI doubt it. Depends on how many there are, I suppose.a Terian gave him a pinched smile. aDo you suppose weall ever get to that cave with the portal?a aThatas the goal,a Cyrus said, irritated.

aDo you believe weall get there?a Terian turned to him as Cyrus tensed; the battle was close now, only a minute or two away.

aYes,a Cyrus lied, anow make ready.a aHm,a Terian said, watching him for just a second longer before turning back to the madness unfolding in front of them. It was clearer now, the snow disappating the closer they got, painting a fuller picture in broad strokes, the clarity increasing. aI almost believe you. You truly have changed; used to be you couldnat lie worth a damn.a The ranks of battle closed, and Cyrus saw the backs of those in front of him, the line retreating. Furtive looks came his way now, men and women with bone-weariness settled in their eyes, their sunken eye sockets peering at him. Their shoulders hung low, but still they fought, those up front, those behind. It was the army of Actaluere that broke first, their back line disintegrating, and only the four or five disorganized rows in front of them to hold up. The press of the scourge forward meant that the front rows fell back even harder, and Cyrus saw a body tossed into the air, saw the motion of grey flesh ahead of all the humans and dark elves and all else that blocked the smaller creatures from his sight.

The smell of death was pungent now in the cold, and the shiver up his spine was at least as much from the knowledge that the unceasing beasts were trying to clamp down on him even now, that they were coming. They donat stop, they donat quit when you hurt them, they only give up when you kill them. He clenched a hand, trying to remember the training of years gone by, the words he learned in the Society when he banished fear from his life. Throw yourself into what you fear, and the death of fear is a certainty. Fear is a ghost, a shadow for lesser beings who worry of death. It is not your enemy but your tool, your business, that which you deal with sword and axe and spear and knife. Death is yours to wield, and it should be your enemy who fears death, not you. Embrace death. The notion of holding onto the corpse of Mortus flashed before his eyes, that strange, shrunken figure that the God of Death turned into at the end, as he faded from life. Death is your talent, your profession, and the end result of your call to war. Death is your blessing, your gift, and your strength in time of trial. All men die, and women too, but few live without fear.

He said the last of the Warrioras Creed in his head. He had not had need to repeat it to himself in years. Unease settled within him, the acidic taste in his mouth was still there and he spat, trying to rid himself of it. The last rank of the Sanctuary army, unbroken in spite of the sudden fleeing of the Syloreans on one side and the Actaluereans on the other, was only feet away now. He took his first step toward them, watched them watch him. They will not yield an inch, he willed them, not even when all else falls apart around them. I should be proud of them, he thought, dimly aware that that particular emotion was strangely lacking, buried perhaps somewhere beneath his creed.

Praelior came up as the back line folded; the Actaluereans and Galbadiens on either side of him were already moving hard now, trying to stream through the press of their own retreating brethren to form a new front line; it was ugly, a dance of chaos and madness, with men who had been fighting for weeks and months, desperate to escape it. Their tiredness was obvious, their steps in the deepening snow were slow, they dragged, they looked skinny and worn, had been fighting on and off and sleeping in spurts and retreating in others.

Cyrus came up to the second line of the Sanctuary army, perfectly organized, the model of discipline in the heart of the storm. He saw in the motion ahead of him the helm of Odellan, the points of it extending like wings on either side of his head, and his hair moving in the wind. He spun, attacked, parried, and thrust, killing two of the scourge in his next move. Cyrusas small band came up, Terian next to him, Scuddar just down the row, easing through the tight Sanctuary formation. Longwell was there, too, at the head of his army, his lance in hand, strange-looking without his horse. For a flash Cyrus remembered fighting with Longwell at his side, in the dark, on a bridge, with ash streaming down around them like the snow did now, and it heartened him.

With a last deep breath, Cyrus took the step free of the second line and became one with the front rank. The scourge was here, was upon him now, too numerous to count, filling his sight line all the way to where the haze became too great to see any more of them. He let the breath all out in one great battlecry, and swung Praelior into action, to war, to battlea"to life and deatha"once more.

Chapter 82.

Vara Day 150 of the Siege of Sanctuary aItas not the idea of being cooped up here that I object to,a Partus said, in the closest imitation to whining that Vara could imagine without actually being a whine, aitas the fact of it. I know youave sent expeditions to other places to gather food, to get relief and supplies, and yet I wasnat offered a chance to go along with them.a Vara listened, waiting for the dwarf to say more. When he didnat, she let herself take a breath and count to five before answering. aAs we have discussed, I would be more than happy to send you along to Fertiss with not only the utmost haste but also with a bounty of gold simply to be rid of you.a She caught the cockeyed gaze of the dwarf, and wondered if he was as insulted by that as she had intended him to be. aUnfortunately, Alaric seems to be of a different opiniona"and, in a stunning reversal of his previous nature to this point, he is keeping that decision secret for reasons that I cannot possibly fathom.a She shrugged broadly, tryinga"Oh, how I trya"to keep it amusing. aI wish he would send you away. Were it in my power, I would send you away. I would walk you to the gate right now, open it up, roll you under it, and be done with it. Unfortunately, it is not in my power, nor the other officers of Sanctuary either, becausea"a aAlaric has some ill intention toward me that he has no desire to disclose to the rest of you,a Partus said, still squinting at her with one eye half-closed. aI see how it is. He knows strength when he sees it, and he knows youare in a dire situation. He thinks by backing me into this corner with you, Iall have no choice but to fight for Sanctuary when the time comes. You know what? The sneaky bastard is probably right. Iave got no love for the dark elves, not after Aurastra, and they donat take prisoners, as well you know. Well, they take the women ones, but not likea"a aThank you, for that,a Vara said, wondering if her fake smile was holding. Alaric compelled me to be nice to this one. I cannot imagine what reason he might have for that, nor why he would ask it of me, OF ALL PEOPLE. She felt the strain inside, the desire to scream, to raise a booted foot and punt the little blightera"but she resisted. Heas a strong paladin, she grudgingly admitted, stronger than me. Two days earlier, the dark elves had begun constructing siege towers from logs hauled to within sight of the Sanctuary walls; Partus, in an annoyingly boastful show of force had bragged that he could destroy every single one of them before they had started moving. No one had believed it. There had been bets placed, gold wagered. Partus had taken all of it and left fifteen siege towers in wreckage, showering splinters into the army of dark elves huddled around them. There were bodies lying there, too numerous to count, from the explosive force with which the wood had splintered into both the engineers and laborers that had built the things, and also warriors and fighters that had been standing nearby. Heas a wealthy little git now, eager to spend his newfound winnings and make his escape while the getting is good; heas unlikely to manage another gambling win such as that.

aYou know that no other paladin could match my powera"other than Alaric, of course.a Partus gave her a wink, causing Vara to restrain an explosive fury of her own. I could surely blast him at least a quarter of the distance he managed to send his spell; far enough to kill him, perhaps. Instead, she rolled her eyes and realized that the smile had long since vanished, and that now all she wore was a look of undisguised loathing.

aI recognize that you are quite strong in the powers of the white knight,a she answered, athough it mystifies me that you can even call yourself one given that you seem to believe in nothing, and certainly have no sort of crusade, if you ever dida"a Partus let out a soft laugh. aYouare a young one, arenat you? Being a paladin has little enough to do with having a crusade or a cause.a Vara bristled at this, and Partus laughed further. aIt doesnat matter what you believe in, some god or cause or nothing at all. All that matters is that you know how to use the spells to their maximum effect. That you put in the practice to push them to the limits of what they can do.a Vara listened to him, taking care not to grind her teeth. aIs that so? Believe in nothinga"a aBut yourself,a Partus said, correcting her not at all gently, aif youare into saying it that way, I suppose.a Vara let her eyes slip sideways, darting around the foyer. aAnd how would you say it?a She watched him shift on his short legs; he only came up to her chest in height, a fact that was not lost on her. Or him. aIf you were forced to describe it.a aIf I were forced to describe it,a Partus said slowly, aI would say itas believing in power. Not in yourself, exactly,a he cringed, his face turned mocking, abecause thatas a little elven and weak for my tastes, franklya"no offense. Your people make good mystics and warriors, but they talk such a pitiful line of effeteness when it comes to yourselves. You have to see your ability to cast a spell that mightya"a He held his hand out in front of him, aimed it just past her. She kept her cool, and realized he was watching for her reaction, his palm pointed into the lounge. aItas all to do with seeing it, saying it, bringing it to form. Itas not just the words.a He ran the back of his hand over his brow. aThen, after youave done it once, you know you can, so then itas about stretching your magical energy to accomodate, exercising your abilities to adapt to casting it more often.a He used his tongue to suck at something stuck in his teeth. aThen, itas about practice. Constant, diligent practice.a She eyed his short frame, at the slight paunch that hung over his belt. aAnd you did this? Practiced diligently?a aAye,a Partus said, aI may not look it now, but I put in thousands of hours of effort when I was at the Holy Brethren. More than anyone else, thatas certain.a aYes,a Vara said with a trace of irony, aIam certain you practiced by yourself constantly, until you became a tremendous master.a Partus caught the hint of insincerity and squinted at it, then shrugged it off. aIt doesnat matter that you believe I did it, you can see the results for yourself. Care, donat, pay attention, heed me not, itas all the same to me until those dark elves come crashing in; then you might wish youad done things a bit differently.a With that, the dwarf wandered off, toward the lounge and the casks of ale that remained there, even in this time of crisis. Vara wanted to sigh but she didnat, instead letting the smell of the hearth burning give her a momentas peace, that slight homey feeling to calm her nerves, then she turned to see Vaste watching her by the stairwell. She hesitated, unsure of what to do. Heas standing right in my path. Should I avoid him entirely? The troll watched, giving her a slight smile, then continued to speak with the human he had been talking to. It would appear heas focused upon his own matters; just as well, I do not know that I could handle much more in the way of sympathy from him at this point.

She headed for the stairs, her head involuntarily moving to look in the open doors of the Great Hall. Larana waited within, seated at a table inside. The druid looked more ragged than usual, her face smudged with a little dirt or grease, and her hair in a mussa"that part was usual. Vara pondered speaking to the chief cook, but she sat alone, by herself, and seemed to be working on nothing at all. I havenat said more than a dozen words to her since I came here. This seems an ill time to start, simply because I know she may be the only other one in Sanctuary who misses a she cringed a who wishes Cyrus were here. She felt the physical reaction in her face as she thought it; a tightening of the muscles into a scowl, the lowering of an eyelid, the muscles straining and causing it to twitch.

She made for the stairs instead, keeping her pace slow, neutral, until she had passed Vaste. Then she sped up, taking the steps two and three at a time, letting her frustration come out in a near-aggression. She reached the Council Chambers and paused; the door was parted slightly, as though someone had left it open for some purpose. She stopped, pondering, then opened the door and stepped inside.

It was quiet, of course; no motion within. The hearths were dead, only the faint glow of fading embers showing any sign of life. The shadows were long inside, the sun was behind the clouds outside. There was little light, only what came in through the windows. Strange, the torches typically light themselvesa"

aShut the door,a came a voice in the darkness, originating from Alaricas chair at the head of the table. It was quiet but full of command, and she heeded it immediately, drawing the door closed behind her. There was less light now, and Vara stared into the shadow of the massive seat at the head of the table, peering into it with her superior vision. If he is there, I should see him, even in this, unlessa"

There was a faint hint of haziness in the room, she realized, a lack of clarity as though a mist had seeped in around her. It hung low, around her feet. aIt is easier this way, sometimes,a came the voice of Alaric from his chair, ato keep one foot in the world of men and the other in the world of the ethereal, existing fully in neither.a There was a slight sound, barely audible to her ears, a rushing of air, and then he was visible, his outline, the helm and armor. There was a clink of metal on the wood of the table and his chair. aDo you think it would be easier to live in this world if you could leave it at any time you wanted?a There was no mirth in Alaricas statement. aIt isnat, actually. It might be harder, if such a thing were possible.a aAlaric?a she asked, still uncertaina"uncertain what to say, what to do, why he was herea"I cannot recall having heard him like this before. He almost sounds a like a aHave you been drinking?a When the reply came, it was filled with amusement. aOn this occasion, no. I think there is quite enough going on around us at this point to fill oneas mind with a certain heady sensation, something to make one feel lighter than air. Of course, when one can already become lighter than air with only a thought, it becomes redundant, but a perhaps you get the point.a aPerhaps not,a Vara said, easing closer to the table from where she stood by the door. aWhat has happened to you, Alaric? You have never been so a bizarre.a There was a pause. aI am merely musing. Contemplating what has happened, what has gone before. On who I am, on what I have donea"the triumphs and the failures. The failures, I think, are the things upon which I most often dwell, but occasionally I think of the triumphs as well.a He paused. aTime is running out, you know.a Vara blinked. aFor Sanctuary?a aFor all of us.a There was clarity in Alaricas voice now, a disturbing note that was foreign to his usual tone.

aWhat do you see?a She took another step in, resting her hand on the back of the nearest chair. Cyrusas chair, she realized.

aI see much,a Alaric replied, and now the fatigue had bled into his voice. aMore than most, less than the gods. Enough to disquiet me. I see that which I want to see, and that which I donat care to see, and that which no one thinks I can see. All of these things.a aIs that how you know so much?a Vara asked. aIs that how youare always so vague and mysterious and all-seeing?a aI am hardly all-seeing,a Alaric replied. aThere are many, many things beyond my sight. For example, I can no longer see a him. He passed beyond my vision when he went across the bridge. Beyond the boundaries.a The Ghostas hand gestured vaguely in Varaas direction, and it took a moment for her to realize that he indicated Cyrusas chair and not her.

aCyrus?a She stared at him, then the seat. aYou could see him? Before he left the shores of Arkaria?a aI could watch him,a Alaric said, ajust as I can watch a great many things whileethereal. But no more, now.a aHow do you do it?a She slid the chair quietly, and it made a screech that to her ears sounded as loud as if someone had scraped wood across stone harshly next to her head.

There was a moment of quiet as the sound of the chair sliding died away. aI suppose it would be asking too much for me to say it is merely magic and have you believe it?a She thought about it for a moment. aThere are things beyond magic in this world, Alaric.a aThere is nothing beyond magic in this world. Only things that you do not understand that you wrongly attribute to being beyond magic.a The shadows seemed to deepen in the room with his answer, as though he had summoned them to wrap him up in a cloak.

aWhat strains you so?a Vara asked, leaning forward in her seat, trying to see him. aWhat has you on edge for the first time since Iave known you?a There was a pause and a quiet settling over the room like the shadows, draping themselves over everything. Alaricas answer was calm, measured, and covered over with the same quiet, but layered with deceit, she thought. aNothing, child.a aI am hardly a child,a she bristled. aNever before have you condescended to call me achilda even though you knew I was the youngest of my race. You know I donat care for that appellation and never have, and to apply it now, of all times, you had to know would raise my umbrage and suspicions in equal measure. So what is it, Alaric? Why do you sit here in the darkness, alone, meditating on the idea of leaving this world behind?a She could almost hear the raising of his eyebrow. aI leave this world frequently; you have seen it many times. The meditation, perhaps, is new to you but not to me, I assure you. As for being alone a are there any of us here that are not so?a She waited as he finished, and could almost hear him add, amy child,a to the end of the question, though it remained unspoken.

aWe are not all alone,a Vara said, athere are many among our number who have found companionship with each other, as friends, comrades aa the next words stuck, but finally came loose, alovers, spouses. So, no, we are not all alone. And most of us do not spend our time considering abilities that we do not havea"for example, the power to become insubstantial and watch others as they go about their business.a There was a shrug from the figure in the shadows. aI assure you it is not as ominous as you make it sound; it actually is quite banal. But to the earlier point, about being alone a well, you are correct, after a fashion. There are friends here, companions, those who guard our gates against the outside world, who watch each othersa backs, find friendly company herein, and more perhapsa"love, laughter, all these things. Yet when we leave this world, we do so alone. When we wander through it, much as we might make of having companions there, many of us do not share the load, shoulder the burdens of others. Then again, this should be no great mystery to you a since you have chosen to do so all the days I have known you.a aI was betrayed,a she said quietly. aIt takes a bit of time after that toa"a aI realize.a He was unflinching, she heard it in his tone. aBut once you did move past it, you let your fear take hold of you, you acted on it without considerationa"a She laughed, a high, empty sound that was no more real than Alaric when he was transformed into mist. aIt feels peculiar that you should lecture me about this.a There was a quiet in the darkness. aI donat mean to lecture.a Alaric leaned forward, suddenly, his chin visible through the gap at the jaw of his helm, and he was urgent now. aI only mean to tell you that however long you think your life is, if you go through it alone, it will drag. It will crush you, the weight of it, like a wagon filled to the top with no wheels to carry it on, pulled by a team of old horses. Those things you attribute to othersa"love, friendship, companionshipa"these are the wheels that make your passage go easy. True, there are ruts in the road that you would not experience had your wagon no wheels, but that is only because the day-to-day passage of the hours is all rut, all scrape, no smoothness.a The light in the room shifted and illuminated the holes where his eyes were, and she saw they were wild. aYou made choices in fear because of what you lost. You threw away everything you had left, and like a fool I said nothing, too wrapped up in my own problems to acknowledge or intervene. But the day has come where you regret what you have done, where you know it was foolish, and yet I know youa"and I know pridea"and you are the second most prideful and stubborn invidual I have ever met in my long life. I warn you nowa"cast it aside. Be done with it. Your pride, your fear, is keeping you from the life you might have, is dividing you from all you could want.a He seemed to recede then, pull back in his chair, leaving only his hand stretched out across the table, as though he were reaching out to her.

She sat stiffly upright in the chair, his chair, her head pressed against the wood behind her. Her eyes burned from holding them open, so she let them close, and the darkness was little more than what she had already been looking at. The weight of her armor was more pronounced now that she was settled in the chair, and there was a gaping sound in her ears, a silence; even her breathing was not audible. aI hear your words,a she said. aBut it occurs to me, Alaric, in all the years I have been here, that I have never seen you try to do what you encourage me to do now, that you have never moved beyond Raifaa"a aAnd I tell you this,a Alaric said in a hiss, aso as to steer you around my mistakes. Just as I always have in other areas, now I want toa"need toa"attend to this last concern.a He waved a hand and the torches flared to life, the hearth came roaring back to fire, and Varaas eyes snapped open at the glow of orange. aLife does not last forever, unimpeded,a he said, and she saw the blaze in his eyes through the holes of his helm, as though the torches were reflected in them. aNot yours, not mine, not his. You have talked to others of regrets, of the ones you feared should he die first, and I tell you now, as someone who has felt ita"I would not have given her up, not cast out her memory or done away with it had I a chance. I embrace the pain for the rest of my days in spite of it and would not wish to be rid of it if the alternative was to have never had it happen at all.a He flinched at his own words. aShe was everything to me, Vara, and her loss has haunted me all these years. You say it seems strange to come from me because I live now as though I were dead inside, never moved beyond her. This is true; when she died, a part of me died with her, a part that will never come back to life. But if I had it to do all over, I would do it exactly the same, even if it meant experiencing the pain once more, because the alternative aa he swallowed heavily, aa would be to never have lived at all, truly.a He looked back up at her. aConsider what I have said.a She started to speak, and he waved her off. aConsider it.a With that, his eyes closed, and he began to fade, becoming smoke and mist, which drifted, slowly, out the crack under the door behind her.

The hearth flickered, and so did the torches at the last great rush of air as he left her behind, his presence departing and changing the currents in the room as he did so. She sat there for quite some time, wondering at his words, wondering at his change, and for some time after that a wondering what had prompted such musings on the finite lives of mortals.

Chapter 83.

Cyrus The battles were long, the snow was deep and the cold was bitter. Cyrus had come off the front line after just under twenty-four hours; he had fought through the night, slaughtering more of the scourge than he could count. It was midday now, the snows had stopped but the wind blew, causing it to drift, blowing sideways over the flat lands upon which they battled. His nose was cold, frigid enough to feel like it was frozen stiff, but he sat in front of a warm fire now, a mile behind the battle, and heard the sound of the war in the distance.

aThis is a peculiar way to fight,a Jaanda said in the midday gloom. The clouds hanging over them were meager cover, casting a shroud of grey over everything. The enchanter had bread in his hand, nibbling at it. aI have never been part of a battle so large that it rages while you can leave it behind, take a break, use the latrines, then come back to find it still going.a aItas not exactly like anything Iave ever done before, either,a Cyrus said, Aisling next to him, chewing on the nub of bread she held in her hands. aCan you imagine taking a breather like this in the midst of fighting the Dragonlord? Or the goblins in the depths of Enterra? Or on the bridge in Termina?a He shook his head and sipped from a skin of water that had been filled by Nyad with a touch and a word as he passed, dragging himself off the front line of battle.

aThese things are utter madness,a Jaanda said, looking to Curatio, who sat next to him, unspeaking, and Terian, who sat idly, not saying anything but staring at his gauntlets. aThey throw countless numbers at us, watch them get ground up and die, but throw more yet. I was not exaggerating when I said that I could not determine how they think. There is no guessing, not from what I saw inside the mind of the one I tried to commune with. If our soldier was right, that there is a General of some sort out there, that may be the key.a He looked to Cyrus. aMy view was somewhat obstructed, sitting in the back of the lines and of very little use for the first time in my life. Did you see it while you were up there?a Cyrus thought about it for a minute then shook his head. aI saw something out there, big, but far in the distance. It never got close enough for me to catch much more than a shadow, even in the best light today.a aI saw it,a Aisling said.

aMe too.a Terian did not look up from his gauntlets.

aMust be nice to have such fine eyesight,a Cyrus said. aWhat did it look like?a aLike one of them,a Terian said, waving his hand in the direction of the battle, abut writ large; four legs, walking around like a dragon without wings. It kept low, though, lower than I think it normally would have, like it knew we had archers and it wanted to be low profile. It was out on the edge of sight, and it stayed there during most of the fight.a aMost?a Cyrus asked.

aIt came closer once,a Aisling took over for Terian. aNot much, but a little. At the beginning of the fight, when we got to the front of the line. Thatas when I noticed it, when I felt its presence. After that it receded, like it didnat want to be seen.a Cyrus chewed that one over for a minute. aYou think this thing is the mastermind? The brain of the operation?a Terian chuckled. aIf this operation has any brains other than the ones it eats on the field of battle, yes.a aWhat if we made a direct assault at it?a Cyrus asked.

aSounds like a fine way to lose your body,a Curatio murmured. aHave you seen what happens when these things start to lose any ground? They throw more at you, more of their numbers. Failing that, they hit you on either side, drive back the lines around you so you end up bulged, in a little pocket, sticking out like an arm, Then they winnow it, chopping into the sides at your weakest point until they can surround you; then it is over.a He slapped his hands together and the echoing noise was loud enough to startle Martaina, who had been sleeping nearby, into jumping to her feet, bow drawn and arrow already nocked. aSorry,a Curatio breathed, and the ranger nodded, replaced the arrow and bow across her chest, and lay back down.

aYou donat think itas possible to stage an assault on that thing without getting swallowed by the scourge army and destroyed?a Cyrus asked, chewing on a stubbornly hard piece of bread. The grains cracked in his teeth and the yeasty flavor lingered on his tongue. He stook a swig out of the water skin to wash it out.

aI think that youare talking about trying to storm something alive as though itas a fortification,a Curatio said carefully. aIt moves, Cyrus. Let us assume you managed to cut your way across the field of battle towards it: whatas to stop it from retreating once it realizes what youare up to? Soon enough youare on a chase to wherever it leads, which, by the way, is halfway to perdition and with the whole of its army surrounding you.a He angled his head. aUnless you have some idea of how to escape that, which I am unaware of.a Cyrus ran a hand over his chin, brushing the crumbs out of his beard. He let the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, and stared straight ahead as the others gradually stopped what they were doing and looked at him, at the curious hint of something long gone, now appearing upon his face. A smile? How long has it been a aWell, you know a I actually do have an idea aa

Chapter 84.

The battle raged on; it came evenfall and darkness, and they returned to the front as the line worked its way back to them. The smell of the latrines had grown strong in the hours Cyrus waited with the othersa"resting, most of them did, lying in their bedrolls. He and Aisling had burned off nervous energy, as always, but he had not joined her in sleep. Also as always, of late. He lay awake in the clouded afternoon light and felt the snowy ground beneath him. The cold seeped, but not too badly; it seemed warmer today than it had the day before for whatever reason, even in spite of the lack of sun. The lingering taste of the water and bread was little enough for sustenance, but he had eaten plenty. Sleep would not come, however, not with the calls of battle growing ever nearer, and the snoring of Terian just across the fire. The thought of his plan rustled around in his mind like a cat trapped in a sack, twisting every way possible to get loose of what held it.

Soon enough it was time to go again, and someone shook his shoulder, waking him out of a sleep he didnat even realize he had fallen into. It was Aisling, already dressed. She leaned down and kissed him, and for a moment the smell of her sweat from battle and their lovemaking overpowered everything else in the camp. When she broke free of him he sat up and began to put on his armor. She did not help, having already moved on, heading over the hill in the direction of the latrines.

The lines were almost upon them now, Cyrus realized, the sound of fighting coming from only a few hundred feet away. This will be a long and yet short few days, and then we shall be backed against Enrant Monge, forced into the walls of the keep for safety if we cannot turn them back. Then what? They can breach the walls, surely, as they did at Scylax, and then we will find ourselves surrounded. He thought of the stableboy, of what he had said, and of the refugees that filled the keep, of their slow, dragging procession out of the gates and toward the south. This will go ill for them if we cannot hold back the tide of these things; they will run out of places to go.

He waited once his armor was on; the others lingered as well, as though afraid somehow to be on about the day. The line of battle came ever closer, and when they could ignore it no more, Cyrus pulled to his feet, drew his blade and stepped toward the fight. He heard the others with him, and cast a look back to see some stewards and young boys gathering up the things they had left behind, throwing them in the backs of wagons that waited across the camp, horses snorting into the cold air. The wagons began to move as Cyrus reached the back line of the fight, and he wondered how far away they would retreat, and how long it would be before he went back to rest againa"or at least try.

He took long, crunching steps through the lines until he reached the front. He began to use his blade to fend off the scourge as they made their way forward, inexorably, open mouths ravenous to take life, to bleed it out on the snow in great red stains. He hacked the head from one, tore limbs from another, then made a move at yet another still that charged him before a perfectly aimed arrow took its eye and caused it to fall still as it slid across the snow to his feet.

The battle turns to a slog, he thought, nothing more than a steady expectation that we will retreat, that there is no momentum to be had. What madness is this that we fight a battle with no expectation to win? Praelior gleamed with its soft glow, and the blood he spilled did not remain on it.

aSo are we going forward with this blatant ploy to have ourselves all declared mad?a Terian was close beside him. aBecause otherwise Iam quite content to remain here, gradually retreating.a aThe problem with gradually giving ground,a Cyrus said as he slammed his blade home in one of the creatureas ribs, ais that sooner or later, no matter how gradually youare doing it, you run out of ground to give.a Three sprang at him like dogs and he sliced them out of the air with little thought and only instinct to guide him. aWe move now.a aOh, good,a Terian said lightly, aI didnat really want to go on living anyway. Dull existence, you know, drinking, whoring, eating nice foods in pleasant places aa aYouave been locked in chains for months when you havenat been eating conjured bread and water and fighting these things,a Aisling said from Cyrusas left as her daggers danced while she spun aside to let a charging scourge brush past her. Her daggers hit it four times as it went by and it collapsed, knocking down a warrior behind her as it slid to a stop. aAnd if youave had any woman in that time, Iad be shockeda"a aFine,a Terian said, and Cyrus could hear the scowl in the way he said it. aI really donat care if I go on living since Iave been deprived of all those things anyway, but it would have been nice to have a last meala"not insubstantial breada"before we went forward with this idiocy.a aNow, Terian,a Cyrus said, aif wead had a so-called last meal for that purpose, where would your motivation be to fight your way back after what weare about to do? Nowhere, thatas where; youad have peaked in your life, and with nothing before you but the dim, boringness of being a soulless mercenary, youad probably just lie down and let them eat you right there.a aWow.a Terianas answer sounded slightly shocked and partially amused. aI think I miss the dour and sour Cyrus Davidon, the one who didnat know what to do with a woman in his bedroll. I thought you were truly heading toward the path to desperation and I was eager to see what you did when you got there.a He waved a hand vaguely at Aisling as he brought his sword down in the middle of a scourgeas head. aOther than her, I mean.a aI think Iam just coming back to myself now,a Cyrus said with a slash that sent a scourge screeching away from him missing a limb. aI want to live. At least long enough to get some hard drink, like Reikonosian whiskey, and throw down a toast to the ones we lost without even knowing it.a There was a pause then Terian spoke again. aYouare beginning to sound more and more like a mercenary every day, Davidon; loose women, hard drink, strong battle, reckless chancesa"why soon enough, youall ask for money in exchange for fighting something.a Terian paused and let that hang in the air. aNot that Iam knocking it, because as you can tell, the mercenaryas life seems to have pretty much everything I want.a aThen why didnat you go do that after you left Sanctuary?a Cyrus asked, turning his hips to level a scourge with a sideways slash. Cyrus got busy afterwards as three more of the grey-pallored scourge jumped at him, one going low at his legs, one coming at him from the side and another head-on in a jump. He swiped the two in front of him and turned to deal with the other when Terianas sword sliced it in two in midair, sending the pieces tumbling past Cyrus, who stepped adroitly out of the way to avoid them.

aBecause aa Terian said, and Cyrus saw a hollowness in his eyes that matched what he saw in the pits of eyes that the scourge possessed, aa Alaric asked me to return.a aWhat about before that?a Cyrus didnat let up, cutting apart a scourge then turning back to Terian. aYou were gone six months. Six months you walked the face of Arkaria, could have done anything you wanted. Been anything you wanted. So what was it, Terian? You walked the path of your father in those days, didnat you? Found out how it was, truly was, to stand in his shadow for a good long while, to see all it entailed?a The dark elf flinched at Cyrusas words. aWho told you?a aNo one atolda me, at least not in as many words,a Cyrus said, and with a shake of his head was back at the battle, sword in motion. aThe Gatekeeper told me, when he stunned you to silence with a subtle accusation. Partus told me, when he said the word Aurastra and you reacteda"as though rumors of that one hadnat percolated around. That was enough, really, to put it together. You said you were in the Sovereignty before you came back to Sanctuary, that you knew the Sovereign had returned because of it. You were working with your father then. You were doing his bidding.a aAye,a Terian said, after a long, strained pause of minutes. aI was.a aBut you came back to us,a Cyrus said, and turned his attention forward again.

aI did.a aWhy?a Cyrus asked, looking out over the field of the enemy, coming at them like onrushing death, their limitless numbers only broken by the countless corpses left on the ground as the front line retreated.

There was another long pause, and Cyrus prepared to issue the advancing order when the answer came, quiet, subtle. aI told you. Because Alaric asked me to.a Cyrus shook his head. aAll righta"letas go!a He leaned into the next one of the beasts that came at him, moving forward instead of back, taking an offensive posture instead of staying with the line. This time, however, the line moved around him. The second rank stepped up, and others came with hima"Curatio, mace in hand, smashing the skull of one of the foes that crossed him. Nyad was in the center of the formation, her staff at the ready, two druids alongside her, ready to blaze fire and create a gap if needed. Aisling was at his side, as was Terian at the other. Martaina and Scuddar had blades in hand and were fighting their way through as well. A few others were along, but it was a tight-knit formation, a seed pod in the midst of roiling winds of chaos, and as Scuddar and Martaina pulled away from the front line it became a contained little bubble only so wide, a circular line of their own, now separated from the ranks of their fellows.

Cyrus saw Longwell down the line of defense that they had just left, his lance skewering two of the scourge while his men covered him. The dragoon looked up and saw Cyrus, and hesitated for only a moment before pulling his lance free and attacking the next enemy that came against the Galbadien army that backed him. He does well at the head of an army of his own; he would make a fine General for Sanctuary. Cyrus looked back and saw Odellan leading a force of men and women to cover Cyrusas advance, keeping the increasing numbers of scourge from pushing them back, fighting desperately to keep forward, to not surrender an inch of ground. Heall hold til we get backa"another fine General.

They were away from the front rank now by fifty feet, surrounded by the enemy, who came at them two and three deep, crawling over each other trying to attack them. Cyrusas sword remained in motion, constant, flowing, cutting their foes to ribbons of blood in the snow, blooming black flowers of death on the trampled ground of the battlefield.

aItas moving,a Martaina said cautiously, her short swords a flurry of motion. aLooks like itas heading away.a aHow far are we gonna pursue this thing?a Terian asked. aAnd please donat say all the way to the depths of the Realm of Death, because weave been there, and itas no party.a aI donat know,a Cyrus said, his weapon moving in front of him, where he stood at the head of the attack party. aIf itas going to constantly circle away from us, I donat see much need to keep going because thereas no way we can chop through these things fast enough to catch it.a He brought his sword aloft for a long, swinging chop across an enemy leaping at him, and he watched Praelior glimmer faintly in the close of day.

aWhoa,a Terian said, ait stopped.a aSudden, too,a Aisling added. aIt was looking at us and just froze.a She let her hands work in a blur, cutting at the scourge that was coming for her; she caught it across the face with a quick thrust, then spun low and opened its neck.

There was a quiet that fell over them, then Cyrus saw the shadow in the distance that jutted over the heads of the creatures, and it rose higher, at least four times the height of the beasts around it. aNot small,a he breathed.

aItas looking a right a at us,a Terian said quietly. aI find that very, very unnerving.a aI donat blame you,a Aisling said.

Cyrus brought his sword up again and drove Praelior into the skull of a running scourge that came at him. He brought the blade up in the air again and let it descend in a hacking motion, the faint blue glow along the length of the blade gleaming in the early, cloudy twilight.

aWhatever youare doing,a Aisling said tightly, ais pissing him off. That thing is looking right at us.a aIam killing its fellows,a Cyrus said, keeping his weapon light and attacking the beasts that continued to come at him. aThis is hardly new.a aHis eyes are right on you,a Terian agreed. aI mean, anchored. Itas watching you, not us.a aDo you think it senses heas the General?a Nyad asked.

aCould be,a Aisling answered.

aFine,a Cyrus said, raising his sword again into a high guard and slashing a leaping scourge into halves in front of him. aWhatever the reason, let him comea"a aItas your sword,a Aisling said as the ground rumbled beneath them, athatas whatas catching his attention; and it looks like you get your wish because here hea"a The rumble grew loud now, the shadow in the distance that was as large as a small house was crossing the snowy ground, chewing it up with surprising speed. Where Cyrus would have imagined the creature be ponderously slowly, it was anything but, rumpled skin becoming plain as it closed on them, the same grey of dead flesh covering its massive bones. It really is the size of a dragon with no wings. aAre you sure itas my sword thatas catching it?a aPretty sure,a Aisling said, steadying herself as she parried the attack of another one of the creatures. aEvery time you raised it where he could see the flash, he watched closer. Now that heas gotten a look at it three times, heas charging us.a aI canat argue with her logic,a Terian said, aher judgment in men, but not her logic. It happened exactly as she describes.a aIf that thing hits our line heas going to trample his way through,a Curatio said as they held there, the beast traveling toward them. aYou might want toa"a aMartaina,a Cyrus said warningly, aNyada"a Arrows were already in flight before he could finish his thoughts; the spells followed, a flame spell that shot in a small burst. It was hardly enough to compare to the long, flaming lines that had blocked scourge advances, but it was enough to light up the sky, to slow the massive creature as it barreled toward them, legs like tree trunks pounding feet the size of stumps against the ground, leaving tracks as big in diameter as Cyrusas shoulders. He clutched Praelior close but kept it moving; even with this thing charging them down, the smaller ones keep coming, their onslaught always threatening to overpower our defense.

It grew closer now, a hundred feet away, thundering across the snowy plain like a dead rhino, its eyes different than the others. There was red in them, reminding him of the eye of a white rat he had once looked into when just a boy. There was intelligence burning in there, too, something far beyond the simple ravening hunger of the others, the mass. This one came for him, watched him, not the others. He could see the exhalations of steaming breath as it came forward, jagged teeth as long as his forearm.

aNyad!a Cyrus called. aStop him!a Too fast, heas not slowing enough from the fire and arrows, and if he splits us, weare dead, damned sure guaranteed to be overrun in secondsa"

There was a flash of light, blinding, from behind Cyrus, white in its intensity, and hands yanked him to the side as the thing burst through the center of them, a grey, blurred leg missing him by inches. Cyrus staggered into Aisling, who had pulled him along, and the thing thundered past, stopping just beyond them, snorting into the air as it shook its head. The others, Cyrus realized, had dodged as well, breaking their small formation down the center. They surged back together now, quickly, and a wall of flame burst forth in front of them, in the open, crushed-down snow where the largest of the scourge had charged through, and it half-circled them in a hundred and eighty degrees of protection.

aA little wall,a Nyad said, her voice strained, ato minimize the vectors of attack. I wonat be able to hold it long.a aHeas pinned between us and our army,a Cyrus said. aCHARGE!a he called out over the lines. aCHARGE!a There was movement on the line, and Cyrus could see them begin to fight forward, on the Galbadien side and in the middle of the Sanctuary forces. With Nyadas flames stymieing the advance of the scourge behind them, Cyrus moved back toward the army, slicing his way toward the creaturea"the General, he thought of ita"as it stood, shaking its head as though it were trying to get its senses back. It took faltering steps, crushing some of its own kind underfoot.

aBe wary,a Curatio said, grasping Cyrusas arm. aThat is no ordinary creature. No ordinary soul.a aWhat is it?a Cyrus asked, pausing for just a second, unable to take his eyes off the beast, standing as it was almost three times his height, with such a massive torso as he had not seen on a creature since Mortus himself or Purgatory before it.

aI have only suspicions,a Curatio said icily. aBe careful. There is more to this thing than is readily apparent.a As though it heard them, it turned, red eyes almost aglow. There was another flash of light, and Cyrus realized it was Curatio blinding the creature, which screeched at them in a high bellowing noise of pain and anger, then came at them in a head-down charge that Cyrus only missed by throwing himself aside at the last second. He skidded in the snow and returned to his feet, clearing the ground around him with a sweep of his sword and ending three more of the scourge in the process.

The General of the scourge was now before him again, halted before the wall of fire. The line was close by, now, and Cyrus watched them advance, thinning steadily decreasing numbers in the middle of the battlefield that were pincered between the front rank and Cyrusas separated group. Less to worry about here, and maybe I can kill this thing before it gets its bearings again. He took off at a slow run, approaching quietly, sword in hand as the beast tried to blink its eyes back to normal once more, heavy, grey lids shuttering over the red pupils, irises and everything else.

As Cyrus reached it, he jumpeda"a hop to take him to the lower hindquarters of the thing, where he plunged his blade into the muscle of the left rear thigh. He drew a shriek of rage more than pain, and the leg moved abruptly where he had planted his feet upon landing, jarring him and his sword loose. He fell the five feet or so to the ground, hit the snow and rolled backward and to his feet again. He spun the sword in his grasp, back to facing upright, and brought it forward into a slicing attack as the creature turned into him. He narrowly dodged a butt of its head as it lashed back at him in a sideways motion.

Cyrus brought a sword slash across the side of its wrinkled, rotted face and it let out a roar that flooded his senses with the smell of dead things; a rot of bodies that made him gag and taste the return of his bread and water with stomach bile mixed in for good measure. His ears rang with the sound of it.