A leaping attack onto the giant scourgeas back caused it to arch its spine and howl. Aisling landed with her blades buried into the flesh and for a moment it bucked onto its back legs. Cyrus watched the sultry grin of the dark elf vanish as she was flung away. She landed on her feet and slithered quickly back while killing two scourge that blocked her retreat.

There were arrows sticking out of the Generalas back and head. Cyrus could not see Martaina on the other side of the thing, but her handiwork was obvious when it exposed its other side to him. It came at him, ignoring all else, mouth open and teeth exposed. Cyrus met it head on, driving the sword into its face as it snapped at him. He missed the eyes but caught the snouted nose, leaving a great gash between the nostrils.

aThick-skinned!a Terian shouted from somewhere to his right. Cyrus saw Scuddar Inashara attack with his curved blade on the end of the tail. Cyrus started to tell the desert man not to bother but was forced to dodge another snap of the jaws.

aReminds me of a dragon,a Cyrus shouted back to Terian. aAny chance this is Ashanaagar? Heas dead and was none too happy with me when last we parted.a aOr Kalam,a Terian replied, now visible in Cyrusas peripheral vision, fending off the smaller scourge while Cyrus focused on the General. aYou did kill him twice, and you sleep on a bed made of his bones.a aItas not what you think,a Curatio said, appearing between the two of them. His hand came out, glowed briefly, and Cyrus felt the banal wounds of the fight thus far disappear, minor scrapes knitting themselves shut. He clutched his mace in both hands, holding it ready, and swung it around to crush the skull of one of the scourge, causing it to go dead and fall, twitching, into a pile.

aI think Iave killed a couple dragons,a Cyrus said, waiting for the beast in front of him to make its next move. It seemed almost overwhelmed, looking at the assault coming at it from all directionsa"Scuddar had cut off its tail six feet from the tip, Nyad was bombarding it with spells, Martaina had expended a dozen or more arrows around its face. Cyrus watched Terian and Aisling keeping the remaining scourge back while the two druids maintained the wall of flames routing the other scourge away from them and toward the rest of the battle line, which was holding. aThis thing looks big enough to be one of thema"and it also seems to be carrying one hell of a grudge against me.a Cyrus met the gaze of the thing and it honed in on him again, the red eyes flicked downward, off his, away from all the other distractions and locked on to his hands.

aDonat you see?a Curatio said, to his right. aIt doesnat care about you at all! Itas your sworda"thatas what it cares abouta"and not that itas your sword, but that itas Praelior.a There was a bellow from the creature at that moment, deafening, at the sound of Curatioas words. Cyrus blinked and stared at it, holding his blade forward as it stared back at him, ignoring the attacks of all the others that surrounded the dead creature. aPraelior,a Cyrus said, and another bellow was loosed, this one louder, more violent, and the beast turned its head down, ready to charge. aItas the sword,a Cyrus whispered. aBut why?a aBecause,a Curatio said, as the General of the scourge began its charge toward them, ait was HIS once upon a time.a Cyrus dodged out of the way as though the creature were a bull, but only just. It was fast, fast enough that the grey head skipped off his elbow, causing it to go numb even as he rolled out of the way of the charge. aNo aa Cyrus muttered, looking at the creature as it turned around, its red eyes finding him again, finding the blade in his hands, his lifeline. aIt canat be aa aIt is,a Curatio said simply. aYou face all that remains of Drettandena"the God of Courage.a

Chapter 85.

aMortus, you bastard,a Cyrus said as the Drettanden-scourge turned to come at him again. aWhat the hell were you doing with these things?a aFeeding off of them,a Curatio answered, and Cyrus heard the tension in his voice. aTen thousand years in the Realm of Death being used like that and I expect youad be a bit put out as well.a aGod of Courage,a Cyrus said, whipping Praelior in front of him. aWell. I believe Iave killed gods before.a aDonata"a Curatioas words were lost as the Drettanden beast charged at him again and Cyrus answered with a bellowing warcry of his own and charged, feeling the strength of Praelior. Fear is weakness, fear is undue caution, fear of pain is deadly a He vaulted, leaping as the enormous scourge put its head down to ram him, dragging his sword beneath him. This is how I used to fight, when I was fearless. No timidity, no concern, no worries to bog me down. No a He blinked, and thought of Vara. No worries for the future. He whipped the blade around as he landed on the other side of Drettanden, and dragged a cut through the beastas hindquarters. aOf all the gods Iave met,a Cyrus said as he came back to his feet and the creature came around with a roar, ayouare actually only the second-most dead.a Cyrus frowned. aDoes that mean weare going to see Mortus dolled up like this?a aI rather doubt it,a Curatio called from across the field, asince it would appear he was the one trapping the souls that have been loosed here. It would have been difficult for him to trap himself, what with being preoccupied with dying and all, especially since these lot were breaking free roundabout that very time.a aAre there more like you?a Cyrus asked, waving the blade in front of him. aAlaric said that other gods died.a There was a bellow from the Drettanden creature at that, and he came at Cyrus again, faster this time, if it was possible. Cyrus started to throw himself to the side and run his blade out but the head came to meet him, the snout landing hard on the inside of his ribcage. Cyrus felt it hit, sending pain shooting through his side and a sudden numbness in his arm. His blade was at full extension; he had been aiming Praelior for the creatureas eye as he dodged.

The stinging agony of the blow sent a numbness up his arm, and when he felt the beastas snout come up it jarred his already loosened grip. Praelior went spinning into the air and so did Cyrus, but in the opposite direction. He hit the ground hard, at a bad angle, and heard his shoulder break as he did so, rolling poorly out of it in a way that snapped his neck to the side and left him with a tingling numbness below his waist. That a was not good a He rolled as best he could; his eyes alighted on Praelior on the other side of Drettanden. It was aglow, shining against the white snow. Cyrus breathed heavily into the mush pressed into his beard and tried to lift himself up, but failed. A healing spell landed upon him and he felt his strength return, the feeling in his legs come back and he was already in motion, clawing back to his feet, making his own charge at the beast, which was distracted, torn between him and the sword. A flare of flame caught it in the face and turned it away from him, toward the blade, as Cyrus slipped between its legs and leapt for it, landing in a desperate roll as his fingers clinched around the hilt.

He came up with the blade pointed back just in time to see the creature charging again. His sword caught it full in the face as it hit him, and he felt the full fury of its effects this time. There was no abatement of the blow, the full force of the multi-ton creature hit him with solid bone against his armor. His armor held, but pushed the impact into his chest where he felt his ribs shatter against the padding.

Cyrus maintained his grip on Praelior but little else; he was flung through the air in much the same way a doll tossed by a child in rage might. He watched himself arc over the line of his forces, saw them stare at him as he flew overhead like he was on a Griffon or some other such beast. The ground came at him, suddenly, and he was reminded of riding the back of Ashanaagar when he hurtled toward the eartha"

Chapter 86.

Vara Day 162 of the Siege of Sanctuary Theyare at the walls, she thought as she ran out of her chambers, vaulting down the stairs. The alarm was blaring, of course, had been for a few minutes, but shead been asleep, deeply, and for some reason the horn hadnat sounded real. The stairs were not terribly crowded, but there was fighting below. Perhaps not the walls but the foyer. Again.

She burst out of the last steps to find the full melee in action. Her eyes widened as she did so, because there was something she did not anticipate waiting for her.

Trolls. Full-blooded trolls, taller than Vaste and armored to the maximum. They swung maces and sent men flying; spells hit them and did little enough damage without hitting collaterally and hurting Sanctuary members. A fire was going in the middle of the floor and Vara was amazed, blinking the shock out of her eyes as she stared, stunneda"the Sanctuary force was losing.

She pulled her sword and rushed into the fight. There have to be close to a hundred of them. A hundred trolls. Is the Sovereign mad? Heas been keeping his own troll strike force? The smell was overwhelming, a kind of musty mildew and body odor more rancid than anything shead ever scented. She made a move to strike the nearest enemy but her sword glanced off his armor. And mystical armor? What madness is this a?

The troll she struck dealt a murderous blow to a warrior with his mace, and Vara watched the manas head sag on a broken neck, limp and loose in a way shead never seen save for when a paladin shead trained with broke a shin so badly that the heel of his foot was pointed upward and the bone jutted out of the skin. She swallowed her nausea and looked for the weak point; the trolls were in a formation, though they had appeared to have made a jolly game of the first attacks. There were dead everywhere, more than she could safely count. More than we could stand to lose and still defend this place.

A burst of flame came from behind her, carefully targeted at the trollas face. It hit him dead on and he screamed, dropping his weapons and clawing at his helm. It was a full helm, one that completely covered his eyes and his face, and the flame had heated the helm or slipped through the eyeholes. He screamed and threw it off, bending low while holding himself.

Vara took the opening and leapt; the troll was tall, taller than Vaste even by at least a head, but her leap was long. She brought her sword down and struck true. The hearty blow did not remove the head, but made it through enough to get the job done. The troll hit the ground as Vara landed, and she felt the impact through the padding in her boots, as well as the aftershock of the troll slumping over.

She glanced back to see Larana at the entrance to the Great Hall, another spell already in motion. Goddess help us should they send another round, weall be bloody dead.

The trolls were aligned, formed into a rank, with the forward line carrying shields and the back containing at least one dark elven healer, she realized, seeing movement of white robes through the tall, green armored beasts that were backing toward the doors under a timid onslaught from Sanctuaryas defenders. A healer. Bloody hell. Weare fa"

There was a glow from Varaas left and she looked to Larana again; there was a blazing ball of fire forming in front of the cook, bigger than a person, and it launched like a catapulted stone right over the top of the formation and into the middle of the trolls. It burst like a blast of water but flooded outward as though it were splashed, a rain of lava coming down on everything inside the troll formation then moving outward to the armored periphery. There were screams louder than any shead heard and the line broke, trolls running left and right to escape the fires that had shot out from Laranaas spell.

aWhat a the hells a was that?a Ryin Ayend said, turning to look at the timid druid. Larana flushed under her frizzed hair and turned away from him, running to the side of the foyer near the stairs.

aI give less than a damn,a Vara said, advancing on the trolls, whose formation was broken, as they tried to reform. There were bodies amongst them where the flaming blast from Larana had hit; the healers, dark elves, scorched away to near-nothingness, only bones and ash remained. A few of the trolls had similarly been afflicted, and there was a molten slag of steel wrapped around the remains of charred green flesh where their armor had melted around them.

Her next thought was interrupted by a howl of outrage. A body flew through the massive entrance doors over the heads of the trolls that were blocking it. The body was overlarge, green, and came to rest in the middle of the floor after hitting and rolling. There was a shout from outside, one near-deafening that stopped the action in place. aSTAY AWAY FROM LORD VASTEaS FLOWERS!a Vara shot forward at the nearest troll and aimed for the joint of his armor at the knee, plunging her sword into the open crack while he was still turned toward the commotion outside. She buried the blade up to the hilt and he shrieked, turned and hit her with a short backhand that sent her to the floor. She hit the ground and slid, the feeling of blood rushing warm down her nose. She wiped her face with the back of her gauntlet, and it came back red. The flavor of it was on her lips, tangy with iron, and she spat. My nose is broken. She knew it from the pain, from the crack that had accompanied the hit. Her nostrils gushed with it, a warm stream flowed down her front as she rose to a squat and looked at the troll who glared back at her.

With a shout, she launched herself at him, darting under his reach as he swiped for her and tried to catch her with his gauntleted paws. She grabbed her sword from where it remained lodged in his knee and yanked down. She twisted it and prompted another howl from him and then jerked the sword free as she slid around behind him. The troll staggered forward and she saw the gap at the back of his armor and lunged up, sticking it in. She felt it resist and hammered it as hard as she could. He dropped with a squeal and she pulled the weapon out and down, feeling the torsion on it as though it were a pry bar with too much weight against it. She knew it was cutting him terribly inside and she did not care; she listened to his scream as she finished withdrawing it, remembering how it had felt when Archenous Derregnault did it to her. Curious. I donat remember screaming that much. With a kick, she pulled it free and sent him forward onto his face, unprotesting. She brought her sword over her head and rammed the blade into the back of his neck.

There were other fights still going on around the foyer, she saw. Larana had three of the enemy boxed into the corner. Lighting forked out from her hands, causing her foes to jerk and twitch on the ground. The druidas green eyes were cold, colder than Vara could ever recall seeing on the woman before. She let the lightning flow out of her and smoke had begun to pour off the trolls. Vara started to say something but shrugged; there were a dozen more still on their feet around the room in various states of attack. Most were contained; a few were not. She watched as one seized an elven ranger by the neck and shook him then threw him bodily into the hearth, which exploded and knocked the ranger free with a minimum of fire.

aThis is not going our way,a Vara said quietly and launched herself at one of the trolls who was half bent, slumped over. She brought her sword down into the side of his neck perfectly. The combination of her weight and swing did the trick, and she dragged him down to death. She looked left and saw Mendicant, quietly lurking next to the stonework around the hearth. His hands were extended and Vara could see a group of trolls being frozen solid by his ice spell. Belkan attacked them one by one, shattering their hands, their bodies, and then their heads last of all.

There was a misting just then that swept through as though carried on a strong breeze. Buffeted by a crack of thunder from Laranaas lightning spell, Alaric Garaunt appeared, his blade flashing motion, impaling a troll through the back, causing a grunting scream from the creature. Guts spilled upon the floor. The Ghostas eyes were afire, and he moved with his customary speed between battles, mist and then not, solid form striking, attacking, killing all that opposed. When the fight was finished, he stood in the midst of the carnage, his sword dripping blood.

Erith Frostmoor was there, Vara realized, quietly making her way among the bodies, bringing them back to life where needed, casting healing in other places. The carnage was great, the smell of blood and gore filled the room, along with other smellsa"emptied bowels and bladders and troll stink, the like of which she had not experienced.

aLarana,a Alaric said quietly, and Varaas head snapped around to see the druid, lightning still flaring from her fingertips at the bodies of three dead trolls that were near fried, blackened from her magic. aEnough.a The mousy druid looked up, and Vara saw the blaze in her eyes, the light coupled with horror of a depth she had not remembered seeing ever before.

aAlaric,a Erith said, rising to her feet from healing a ranger who had been gushing blood, aWe must close the portal.a Alaric stood stock still in the middle of the room, waiting, his shoulders slumped, his weapon still dripping blood on the floor, drop by drop, onto the great seal in the middle of the room. aTo do so would leave our guildmates in Luukessia with no way to return to us.a aIf we leave it open,a Erith said, athe Sovereign will continue to send wave after wave of enemies upon us. These are mere forays, designed to push us, to test us. His forces are assaulting the wall even now because heas trying things out. If we leave the portal open for when his final assault comes, weare simply making it all the easier for him to crush us.a Alaricas head came up and found Vara, looking her in the eyes. There was not a word exchanged between the two of them, but even behind Alaricas helm Vara could see the eyes, the grey eyes, and saw the flicker that revealed the thoughts. No. Please, no.

aAye,a Alaric said, and slowly slid Aterum back into the scabbard at his side. aWe cannot continue to fight the enemy at our gates as it grows in strength, and the enemies that would come at our bellies with a dagger in the night.a aAlaric,a Vara said, alarmed, aplease considera"a aAll I have done is consider,a Alaric said, his hand sweeping to encompass the foyer, the carnage around them. aHundreds dead, and the Sovereign has yet to visit a true horror upon us, one of the choicer delights he has at his command. They come at us from outside the wall right now as well.a He shook his head. aI do not wish to abandon our guildmates, but if we do not close the portal aa He stopped speaking, and the world around seemed to become louder for Vara, as though a great sweltering hum filled the air. Chanting. From the army outside. They are making another assault on the gates. Right now. They keep coming a and coming a She bowed her head.

aIf we do not close the portal,a Alaric said, shaking his head sadly, athey may not have a guild to return to.a

Chapter 87.

Cyrus The darkness was total, complete, save for the flashes of spells around him. The battle had gone on for days. They had not seen the Drettanden beast, not since the first time, but that had been plenty enough. Cyrus had died, killed upon impact with the ground, and when he woke up later, behind the lines, head found only Calene Raverle at his bedside.

aWhat happened?a head asked in a grog.

aYou died,a she said simply and handed him a skin of water, which he drank from. The sounds of battle had carried from beyond. He had not asked her anything else, the strike of swords and cries of wounded answering all his further questions and filling in any gaps.

It was days later now. Cyrus had lost count of how many times head stood on the front lines since, sword in hand. Drettanden was out there, he could feel the creature instinctively, but it kept well back from the fighting. And a good thing, too. I need another clash with that beast like I need to be splattered all over the snow.

aSecond rank, coming up!a came a call from behind him. Odellan, he thought, as he swung his sword through the face of a scourge. Time for relief. Cyrus eased back into a defensive posture, hacking apart the next scourge to jump at him. It was all he did, anymore, hit these creatures with his sword, stare into their black and soulless eyes and hit another one. Kill it, kill the next, kill another. Day after day until this moment had come. He found a dry sort of relief sprinkle over him at the thought of going back behind the lines, of eating something, even bread, possibly some hard cheese. There had been nothing but cheese, all the meat having been consumed by the refugees, but that was to be expected. Bread was enough to go with, bread and water and perhaps some jerky or salted pork every now and again.

Cyrus let himself fade between the next rank of combatants as the second rank took up the battle, and he let his shoulders slump as he placed Praelior back into his scabbard. How long has it been? Did I ask that this morning? Or was it last night? Two days ago?

It was dark enough that he could not see the horizon; a few torches lit the way for him, the people behind him carrying them to brighten the battlefield, to cast a little illumination on the moonless night. Heavy clouds hung overhead, and the smell of unwashed armies was heavy. Infection, pain and death were faint, but stronger the farther one got behind the lines.

aHow long have we been doing this?a Terian asked, rattling into place beside Cyrus.

aThree weeks,a Curatio said, athis time.a The elder elf walked slower than usual, his seemingly inexhaustible nature oddly subdued; Cyrus suspected he had been burning life energy again. Thatall cost him over time. Even he canat do that forever without repercussions. Can he? aThree weeks since we started the defense of Enrant Monge.a There was movement all around them, the armies holding the fight to the field. aI could use a break,a Cyrus admitted, and he saw a flash of green ahead in the darkness as a shadow broke toward him, female. aNyad,a he said, acknowledging the wizard with a nod. She hobbled toward him with her staff, coming from behind the lines with a few others, looking only slightly less haggard than he himselfa"though she probably just finished a rest. Bad sign for all of us, I think.

aI have a message for you,a she said, brushing blond hair back behind her pointed ears. He watched the motion she made, and it stirred Vara to his tired mind, if only for a second. aThe Kings of Luukessia request your presence for a moot.a aA moot, eh?a Cyrus asked. aI suppose itas about time we discussed strategy, seeing as how weave been going about this for a few weeks without much success.a She shrugged, and started to brush past him. aIs that it?a he asked, watching her go.

aThatas all Iave got,a the Princess of the Elven Kingdom said, favoring him with a weary smile, abut then Iam rather tired.a aArenat we all,a Cyrus said as he started his path back to the rear of the lines, a few others in tow, aarenat we all.a He found Jaanda waiting beside a fire with a few loaves of bread that he wordlessly handed to the new arrivals as they strew themselves around the campsite. The dark elfas face flickered in the light, and he wore no illusion of late. I wonder why not? He doesnat go to the front because thereas no use for him there, youad think all head have to do is sit around and play with illusions. Cyrus took the bread offered to him wordlessly. aI have a meeting to attenda"Iam sorry, a moot.a His fingers came up to his eyes and tried to brush away the sleep, but found only dried blood encrusted on his forehead. I donat even know if thatas mine or not. aIall return when Iam done.a aI was figuring youad just collapse wherever you were standing when it was over,a Terian said, staring down at the bread clasped between his gauntlets. He stared at it as though it were an adversary; Cyrus knew well what he was feeling, as the taste of it had grown quite old for him as well. aYou know, from exhaustion.a aIall be waiting for you to get back,a Aisling said, her eyes glistening in the firelight.

aOr possibly something venereal,a Terian muttered. aI donat know where you find the energy,a he said, a little louder.

Cyrus didnat answer, instead turning his face toward the largest fire behind the lines, a roaring blaze off in the distance. It was a bonfire, almost, and he could see a few figures gathered around it. Thatall be where they are, he thought, taking the first trudging steps toward it. I hope they speak quickly, though I have my doubts that theyall do any such thing.

The snows had grown deep around his feet but were packed down from having an army treading constantly over them. He heard the crunch with each step and huddled tighter against his cloak, trying to find shelter within it from the wind. He tried to keep his head down, eyes directly off the fires that punctuated the dark around him. The moonless night gave him little enough to see by, and every time he gazed directly into a flame he was forced to blink the afterimage of it out of his sight for a few seconds in order to see the path he was walking. The only good news is that every bit of foliage that can be burned has already been cleared to do so. I expect theyave taken to chopping down the woods around Enrant Monge itself by now, sending it north to us by wagon along with whatever meager supplies they have remaining.

His nose adjusted to the cold air, to the smell of wood fires burning and nothing cooking. The army was subdued. All joking and laughter seemed to have fled long ago, blanketed over and suppressed like the night sky that wrapped the world above them. They are weary. These men have fought for weeks, some of them for months. If Iam this tired, I cannot imagine how someone like Odellan feels, having done this now for so long.

He reached the fire at last, the largest one, and there was a small circle of men in armor standing guard around it. They didnat stop him, stepping aside when his face became visible. He entered the circle and found Longwell sitting on the ground next to Tiernan, both facing the roaring flames. Briyce Unger was there as well, though he was standing. Cyrus did not bother greeting them with anything more than a nod before dropping onto the melting snow next to Longwell. He heard the light squish of the muddied ground, and realized that he truly did not care.

aI see youare in as fine a state as the rest of us, Lord Davidon,a Milos Tiernan said.

aIndeed,a Longwell said, scarcely turning his head, awe are truly a kingly lot, we masters of Luukessia. Sitting here, far from our hallsa"a He looked at Unger, a look laced with profound apology, awe who still have halls, that isa"sorrya"and watch our lands swallowed up a day at a time.a Cyrus felt a stir of pity. Iave felt the same, remembering the dark elves coming to Reikonos. Home. He felt a slight pang, deep within, buried under layers of weariness. Itas been so long. aHow many more days until we reach Enrant Monge?a aOne,a Unger answered, waving behind them. aYou canat see it now, because of the darkness, but weare in sight of it.a aIn sight of it?a Cyrus sat up, a cold clutch of surprise pushing back the weariness. aThe refugeesa"a aEvacuated,a Tiernan said, staring into the fire. aTheyave been moved south, toward Actaluere.a The King of Actaluere looked up from the flames. aDoes anyone want to say it yet?a There was a pause and a silence, then Briyce Unger spoke. aYou speak of the fact that nearly half of Luukessia has been devoured by these things.a aAye,a Tiernan replied. aI received a messenger from Grenwald Ivess today with missives from border towns to the west; the scourge advances along a line, taking the towns south of Actaluereas border with Syloreas. They are eating my realm now, and my citizenry are moving south as quickly as possible.a He looked expectantly at Longwell.

Longwell was glum, but did not look up from the fire. aMuch the same to the east. They will be at Harrowas Crossing in another few weeks. Their advance is slower there, in fewer numbers, but enough to consume what remains. The villages and towns have emptied, and the people are in full flight before them. They seem to be following the lead of the battle here, letting their fellows who hammer us on this front be the guiding force for their advance. It gives us time to evacuate the cities and towns, but a to what purpose?a Longwell gave a weary shrug. aWe are soon to run out of land to give them in exchange for the time we buy.a Briyce Unger waved into the darkness. aIt seems likely that theyall take Enrant Monge within a day or two of enveloping ita"which I suspect will be tomorrow evening, the following morn at the latest. Weall be forced to divide, or perhaps retreat and reform beyond it, adapting to the woodlands to the south as we make our moves.a He shook his head. aThis is a slow-burning nightmare, like watching Syloreas swept away all over again. I see these things when I sleep, like the avalanches in the passes near Scylax, and everything they touch as they rumble down is dragged with them, to the underworld. Ancestors,a he cursed. aWe shanat be making so much as a stop to them. Weave fought them from Filsharron and have yet to stymie them to delay for so much as a night. They come on, more and more. How many have we killed now?a aHundreds of thousands,a came Tiernanas hollow reply. aA million or more, perhaps. How many can there be?a aOf the dead?a Cyrus asked. aBecause thatas what these things are, the dead, unleashed, furious, ready to consume the still-living. Countless dead. The spirits of all your ancestors and mine, for all we know, unrememberinga"a He thought of the Drettanden beast, of the attacks it mounted on him, holding the sword that had once been wielded by the God of Courage himself. aOr perhaps not unremembering but beyond reason. Mad with desire and craving life, that elusive thing theyave lost.a aWe cannot reach the portal,a Unger said quietly. aAll hope of that is lost. So what now?a aKeep running,a Tiernan said. aGo south. Buy time until we can find some new stratagem.a aThere is no new stratagem,a Longwell said, his voice edged with sorrow. aThis land will be destroyed, filled with the bodies of the dead, with the wreckage of those creatures as they continue to eat us piecemeal.a aDo not lose hope,a Cyrus said, but weakly, as though he did not feel it in himself.

Longwell let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. aWhy should I not? Tell me, Cyrus, what is there left to hope for? What is there to believe in besides a long, slow death? Every inch of Luukessia will be covered in these things, and where have we to go? What have we left?a aYour people,a Cyrus answered. aThey live yet. They look to each of you for guidance. Show them the way to safety.a aThere is no way to safety,a Unger said quietly.

aArkaria,a Cyrus said, and the three Kings looked to him. aYou are correct, they will continue to come. But perhaps, if we can keep going south, leave the lane of retreat open to the Endless Bridge, we can allow your people to escape. Perhaps ifa"a aPerhaps, perhaps, perhaps,a Longwell said, and Cyrus could hear the light desperation in his voice as well. aPerhaps we can get to the bridge, perhaps we can herd our entire surviving people over ita"those who havenat dropped dead from exposure, from lack of food, from the journey of miles to get there from all over the landa"and then we give them a what? A foolas hope that we can defend the bridge against the onslaught of these things that cannot be stopped? A frantic hope that perhaps they wonat follow?a aWhat else would you have them do?a Cyrus asked. aLay down in the snow and wait for death?a aI could at least believe in the truth of that,a Longwell said, folding his hands before him, rubbing his fingers together before the fire, as though he could feel no warmness within them. aI do not believe we will survive these things. I do not believe we were ever meant to.a aA strange thought from a man who only a year ago told me that he didnat believe in gods that controlled our actions.a aItas been a long year,a Longwell said and didnat look up.

aEven if we could get a a portion of our people to the bridge,a Tiernan spoke up, aand thatas a very large aif,a considering that those traveling from the north have been walking for months already, we could still march them into Arkaria and have these things follow and be no better off than we were before. We would only be prolonging the inevitable.a aWhat is the alternative?a Unger said, and Cyrus was surprised at the strength of the Sylorean Kingas conviction. aTo yield all hope up as lost?a Unger reached back for his maul and slapped the handle against his hand, a whomping noise that did little more than cause Tiernan and Longwell to look at him. aIf we are to lose Luukessiaa"and I agree, it seems likelya"I mean to make these beasts choke on that loss. I wonat simply bow down and be chewed up by the unrelenting mouth of this thing. I will take as many of them with me as I can, and Iall fall to my death proud that I went to my last breath fighting for something greater than those things will ever conceive ofa"my people. My land. My Kingdom. My brethren. Come to it, these things die like beasts, all trying to chew up their next meal. Iall take my death and go willingly, as a man, and for a reason. For Luukkessia.a Unger set his jaw and slapped the handle of the maul against his palm again.

There was a silence until Tiernan spoke. aIave never much seen the margin in war. Nor in these endless battles we fight; oh, certainly Iall take what I can get, expand my territory and my tax revenue, but I never understood the call to war. But this a this slaughter they intend for us, this is truly the most grotesque thing I can remember.a He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back over his shoulder. aI swore when I took the throne to do my best by my people. I never thought it would require much more than fighting you lot,a he waved a hand from Unger to Longwell. aNow we find ourselves staunchest allies, with an enemy that the three of us combined may not be able to defeat. I will fight these things to the death. I gave a sacred oath to protect my Kingdom, and I took it meaning every word I said. I will not go back on it now simply because all that I anticipated has faded away and drawn me into something unimaginable.a He pointed toward the southwest, toward his Kingdom. aThey are good people, my citizens. Hard workers, not all virtuous but on the whole good people, unworthy of the fate this scourge would visit upon them. I would be a willing sacrifice to stop these things, to stem their advance. I would die in the fight with these monsters, but not til Iave given every last drop of my blood for these people.a He stood. aI never thought I would say that. Never thought Iad ever see an enemy so horrid that I would stand with the two of you and be willing to die to stop it, but a here we are.a Cyrus waited to see if Longwell would speak. He did not, and after a moment Unger spoke again. aShould we even try to defend Enrant Monge when the moment comes?a aIf the pattern holds,a Cyrus said, atheyall envelop it, and perhaps crawl over the top, I donat know. If we defend it, expect to die doing so. Enrant Monge is nothing compared to Scylax.a aYou need not worry about Enrant Monge.a The voice came from behind them, and Cyrus turned, blinded by the light of the fire still flashing in his eyes. When it faded, a grey cloak was obvious, and a bearded man emerged from the darkness.

aGrenwald Ivess,a Briyce Unger said, stepping forward to offer his hand. aWhat brings you out of the castle?a aIt has hardly escaped our attention that you are nearly upon us,a Brother Ivess said, keeping his hands joined together within his sleeves. aI came to speak with you, to discuss our next moves.a aWe have decided to retreat toward the Endless Bridge,a Tiernan said, still standing, his back now to the fire, shadowing the man. aWe will reform south of Enrant Monge and continue the defense, fighting for every inch of ground to give the people time to make their escape.a Grenwald Ivess gave a short nod. aYou are brave, I will give you that. The Brotherhood will remain at Enrant Monge as you withdraw, and we will buy you the time to remake your formations.a aThat is unnecessary,a Unger spoke, his beard shifting as he ran a hand through it. aWith the Arkarian magics to cover our retreats and hold lines, you should leave the castle. It is vulnerable and will cause you naught but death when they come. Get your men out, head them toward the southwest, and have your soldiers help the civilians make their way.a Ivess stood still, but Cyrus noted the subtle vibration of his body under the robe. aIam afraid I cannot do that. The Brotherhood has kept Enrant Monge against all challenges for ten thousand years. We will not abandon it now.a There was a moment of silence before Longwell spoke. aBrother Ivess, the purpose of Enrant Monge was unity of Luukessia, is it not?a aIt is,a Ivess replied.

aWe have achieved unity,a Longwell said, gesturing to Unger and Tiernan. aWe stand united against the darkness before us. There is no need for your Brotherhood to die now for a place, even Enrant Monge. The people of Luukessia are the true beating heart of our land, not some castle, no matter how old it is. We could make much use of your soldiers in our retreat.a aAnd you shall,a Ivess said. aI will send seven hundred and fifty of my thousand with you. The others have all refused to leave. We will remain to defend Enrant Monge against this enemy.a He held up a hand as the three Kings began to speak as one. aYou must remember, our order is old and set in its ways. To die in defense of Enrant Monge is no great burden for us. It is what we have been living for all our lives. And it is a small thing, really, having seen this day come. You are quite right,a he said, looking to Longwell. aWe have sought the unification of Luukessia for ten thousand years. Though this is not how we would have hoped it would play out, it is what has happened. Those of us who remain will do so gladly, having known our purpose was fulfilled and that we stood against the single greatest threat our land has ever known.a aI feel as though I should clap,a Longwell said, finally standing for himself, abut I suppose instead I will have to content myself with bidding you farewell, Brother Ivess.a aI am not leaving quite yet,a Ivess said, and then looked to Tiernan. aI have some unfortunate tidings to deliver as well.a His hands emerged from his sleeves, breaking them apart, and he handed a small envelope to Milos Tiernan, who took it and walked back to the fire with it in his hands, ripping it open to pull free a letter, which he proceeded to read.

aWhat is it?a Unger asked under his breath.

aI am not free to speak for the King of Actaluere,a Grenwald Ivess said. aIf he means to have you know, he willa"a aDAMN THE MAN!a Milos Tiernanas voice echoed across the camp. He took the note, crumpled it and tossed it into the fire.

aLuukessia is already beset upon by the most fearsome beasts we have ever known,a Unger said, aand weave just decided to tell every man, woman and child of our Kingdoms to flee to the edge of the sea and cross it on a bridge that will take us to a foreign land that likely has no place for us. Something tells me that whatever the contents of that letter, they would have to be powerfully bad tidings to agitate King Tiernan after all thatas already transpired here tonight.a Tiernan paced, staring for a moment at the flames, regretfully, as though he could snatch back the letter he had cast into it. Grenwald Ivess stared at him quietly, as did Longwell, while Unger stood with his arms folded. aWell?a the King of Syloreas asked. aOut with it.a aHoygraf,a Tiernan said, and it came as more of a curse than any word Cyrus had ever heard spoken. A flash of irritation passed through him, and he thought of the dark haired Barona"Grand Duke, he corrected himselfa"and thought of the faded memory of the last time head seen the man, knife in hand.

aOh, yes, that pestilence,a Unger spoke again. aWhat is your dear brother-in-law up to now? It must be a powerful irritant if it can inspire such rage in you after weave already had such a down eveninga"a aOh, it is,a Tiernan said, now pacing before the fire. His head snapped up and he looked to Cyrus. aYou.a Cyrus blinked at him. aMe, what?a aYou must come with me,a Tiernan said, and took two steps forward to grasp Cyrus by the forearm. Cyrus did not stop him, but stared in mild curiosity at the Kingas grip on him.

aCome with you where?a Cyrus asked. aWe have a battle ahead of us, in case you forgot? So unless itas to the fronta"a aTo Caenalys,a Tiernan said, and Cyrus could feel the slight squeeze of the Kingas hand even through his armor.

aYour capital?a Cyrus asked. aAny particular reason why?a aThe weather there is bound to be better than it is here,a Unger said under his breath.

aBecause thatas where Hoygraf is,a Tiernan said. aHeas taken my sister and captured my city with his forces,a Cyrus felt a cold sensation plunge through him in spite of the warm fire nearby. aHe holds her hostage, claiming to be the new King of Actaluere.a Tiernanas cold eyes burned into Cyrus. aHe says that if I attempt to reclaim Caenalys, he will kill her.a

Chapter 88.

Cyrusas walk back to the fire that he shared with the others was long and stumbling. The cold bit at him in a way that felt foreign, as though he hadnat been exposed to it for weeks now. His eyes even felt cold, the air freezing the moisture within them. He cracked his knuckles and moved his tongue around in his dry mouth, as though the bread head eaten had formed a coating of yeast around it. The smell of the cold air and the dead around him was overwhelming, and he felt himself stagger from the weariness.

Sheas his problem now. Sheas the one who went willingly back to hima"for whatever reason. He mentally kicked himself for even thinking it. She went back for Luukessia. To save her land, to turn her brother loose for war. She went back fora"

aAre you lost?a An arm snugged into the crook of his elbow, giving him strength. He smelled the surprising scent of sweat anda"faintlya"greenery.

aMartaina,a Cyrus said, recovering from a near-stumble. aWatching out for me again?a aSomeone has to.a He took a few steps with her. aYou heard?a She had her cowl up, but he could see her lips present themselves in a pursing motion. aI did.a aYou have an opinion.a She smiled, and at this she was almost impish. aHave you ever met a woman who didnat?a He chuckled in spite of the fatigue. aYou think I should go to Caenalys.a She waited before answering and came to a halt, their boots crunching against the packed snow, which still gave a little at every step as Cyrus put his weight onto it. aI think that if Milos Tiernan goes to retake his capital in order to save the hundred thousand people that live within the walls, if he doesnat have some form of magical assistance, then Cattrine Hoygraf will be quite dead by the end of the endeavor.a aI see,a Cyrus said, and nodded. aAnd that raises the likelihood that Hoygrafas army will cause even more damage in Caenalys before he is defeated.a aTiernan will have to pull more away from this battle in order to break open the city walls and save those people from Hoygrafas delusions,a Martaina said. aThe man will make Caenalys a mass grave site, bottling himself up with the scourge coming.a aSo I would go for the people of the city?a Cyrus asked, watching her without emotion.

aNo,a Martaina said, ayou should go because if you donat, youall regret it to the day you die.a Cyrus opened his mouth to speak and her gloved hand came up and a single finger lay across his lips. aYou need not posture before mea"the others, perhaps, but there is no fooling someone who has watched you so close as I have. You would have an easier time fooling yourself than mea"and you have. You feel for her, even now.a She did not break away from staring him down. aIn spite of all, just like Vara, it is there. You will regret it to your grave if you donat save her.a With that, Martaina turned loose his arm, and he felt as though a weight had been attached to it instead of lifted, as though she had given him strength and taken it all away at once. aWhy?a he asked, in the hush of the night, with the battle still raging somewhere in front of them, and the campfires burning all around him. aI wanted so hard to be rid of her, to be rid of both of thema"her and Vara, and yet they still torment me so. Why canat it be aa he let his voice crack slightly, asimple.a aI believe you have confused matters of the heart with something much different, like fletching, perhaps,a she said, drawing an arrow from her quiver. aMake an arrow, put a head on it, make them of uniform length and material for the same purpose, and be done with it. This is not an occupation. It is not a job, or something that you would do in your spare time. This is love, whether you admit it or not. She was there for you in a time of great sorrow, and allowed you to feel something that you had thought lost. Imagined slights and betrayals aside, you gave her your word.a aShe went back to him,a Cyrus said. aTo save her homelanda"a aTo save you,a Martaina said sharply. aIt was for you that she gave herself back. It was for her home that she remained there under the most odious tortures I have ever seen.a Martaina took a step closer to him and seized his arm again, and he felt for a moment as though a parent were lecturing him. aDo you know the last time I saw her? We came upon her being whipped while tied to a pillar that your head was stuck upon. She was given your head and told to walk it back to Sanctuary. Aisling managed to rush it back in time, but Jaanda and I carried her, bleeding, broken, back to our camp so she could be healed. And she went back to him willingly. Yes, she stayed with him for her homeland, but the bargain was struck to save you.a Her hand came loose of him again. aDonat be a fool. However much you may be doubting everything else right now, believe thisa"she loved you.a Martaina turned and began to walk away, back toward a fire that was not so far off, her feet making no sound on the snow as she went. aYou were the first for her, I think.a The wind whistled through, but he heard her nonetheless, and shivered as she spoke. aAnd while you do not owe her your love, you doa"in spite of all elsea"owe her your life.a

Chapter 89.

The night was terribly cold, and when he lay down next to Aisling, he did what she wanted, perfunctorily, tired, with aching bones and pain in his heart, and he kept himself together through it only by focusing on the smells, the sweat, closing his eyes and remembering the bed in Vernadam. He ran his fingers over her skin, and imagined a back filled with the ripple of scars. Her hands came up to his face, and it was as though he were there again, and the window shone in over him, and a light flashed as he caught his breath, the cold air hitting his lungs, his skin almost as though it were going to burst into flames from overheating. He rolled to his back, off her, and lay there under the bedroll, breathing deep breaths into the air, watching as they fogged in front of him in the firelight.

aThat was a more than I expected from a weary man,a Aisling said, pressing the bedroll over her chest but leaving her arms exposed to the night air.

aYes,a Terian said from a few feet away, ait was very impressive. The rest of us are trying to sleep, though, so maybe save the pillow talk for another time?a aMost of us are polite enough not to comment,a Jaanda said, arecognizing that in a space like this, where there is no actual privacy, the least we can do is respect each other enough to pretend.a aGods, man, how much pretending can you do when sheas caterwauling like that?a Terian asked. aEver since they got back from Galbadien, Iave been afraid that someone set loose a ghoul from the Waking Woods in our camp. I wake up ready to draw my sword.a aI thought it sounded lovely,a Martaina mumbled. aIam left to be a bit envious over herea"a aCome on,a Cyrus said. aI like Jaandaas philosophy. We ignore it from the rank and file, you people canat ignore it from me?a aUsually, yes,a Terian said. aTonightas round of a I donat even know how to describe that. Iam fair certain you tried to stuff an angry raccoon into your bedroll, not a full-blooded dark elven woman.a Aisling froze next to Cyrus. aI doubt youad know the difference at this point, as cavalier as you are.a aOh, Iad know the difference.a Cyrus could hear the grin in Terianas voice. aMore bite and scratch marks from the dark elf.a There was a pause, and Cyrus looked at Aisling. aThank you for not biting and scratching,a he said. aMuch.a She shrugged. aI try to be considerate.a aBut not of your neighbors in camp,a Terian mumbled.

aWould all of you shut up?a Curatio said. aPlease. As mentioned, this is hardly the first time any of us have heard a couple being intimate in our midst. This isnat anything new, I assure youa"a aIam pretty sure I just heard something done that was new to me,a Martaina mumbled.

Curatio glared at her. aAnd we all have a long day ahead of us. Go to sleep.a There was a murmured assent to the healeras words, and Cyrus felt Aisling next to him but not leaning into him tonight. She was like that sometimes, preferring her space. He lay there, eyes open, staring up at the sky as the first flake of snow made its way down onto his forehead. He felt the next on his cheek, and the one that followed landed on his nose. The fire caught them as they descended, more and more of them now, and Cyrus shook out of the bedroll and quickly dressed, strapping his armor on. That done, he sat by the fire and stared into the flames as they licked at the logs in their midst. He paused and found the nearby pile, brushed the newly fallen snow off of it and threw one on the fire.

aIam surprised you canat sleep after all that.a Cyrusas eyes jumped to the voice, sitting opposite him. It was Curatio, his fair hair highlighted by the dancing flames, watching the fire.

aThings on my mind,a Cyrus replied. aYou?a Curatio had his mace lying across his lap and flicked the button to cause the spikes to roll out. aA thing or two Iam thinking about, yes.a aYou could have saved the elves,a Cyrus said, a thought hitting him out of nowhere. aYou and your fellow Old Ones. You could have had a mountain of kids with elven women, and the curse would be beaten out by your own efforts.a Curatio looked at him and raised an eyebrow. aIn spite of your obvious efforts at practice, Iam going to hazard a guess youave never had children of your own.a He waited for Cyrusas shake of the head. aI couldnat do that, just have a hundred or two hundred children and leave them to be raised by someone else. I had two, only seventy years ago. Two very fine daughters, and it was a chore for me to leave them when they had reached the age of human maturity.a He shook his head. aBesides, that wouldnat have saved the elven people. Not really. Our Kingdom has slouched toward death, become stagnant. The people grow old in spirit but only slowly in body. They live long enough to become fearful for their mortality but not immortal enough to take some reckless chances. Their craving for security over all else makes them weak.a aWeak?a Cyrus chuckled. aThey arenat that weak.a aThey are,a Curatio said. aThe whole Kingdom totters from it. Itall fall in another thousand years or less, even absent the curse. They need new blood. Having to have their women breed with humans will be good for them. Itall water down that long life, perhaps force them to innovate and grow again instead of always moving too damned slowly to do anything differently. The world is changing around them and if they donat change with it, theyall be irrelevant anyway.a aPretty cavalier attitude for someone whose race is dying.a Curatio snorted. aMy race is already dead. We Old Ones were elves, true elves, if you want to get into an argument of blood purity. The elves that live now are almost as much human as they are elf, when you compare them to me. I am the last of the purebloods, remember? I donat consider this change a bad thing, and itas certainly not as dire of a watering-down as those in Pharesia make it out to be.a He shrugged his shoulders. aI donat see it as a problem.a aBut you wanted to cure the curse,a Cyrus said. aYoua"a aI did,a Curatio said. aBut Iave had a year to think about it. Now I wish wead never gone to the Realm of Death. It was a foolish, fruitless endeavor, and greater than the curse visited upon the elven race is the ill luck that Mortus returned to his realm when he did.a Cyrus let that rest for a moment as he smelled the smoke, felt the curious sensation of the heat on his front from the fire and the cold at his back from the lack. aCuratio aa The healeras eyes found him in the dark. aI think about that day all the time. If I had aa Cyrus heard his voice crack. aIf I had let her die a none of this would have happened. These people wouldnat be losing their country. These people wouldnat have died.a The smoke was heavy now, for some reason, and Cyrus felt his words choke off in the back of his throat.

aI was rather hoping you wouldnat see it that way,a Curatio said quietly, and the healer looked up. Cyrus saw sparkles on Curatioas cheeks in the light of the campfire, twin streams down toward his chin. aBecause all Iave been able to think about since we found out what they are is that if Vara had simply let me die a if Iad been more fearless, stepped up to Mortus and shoved her aside a none of this would have happened.a He stared into the fire. aI would not wish that guilt on anyone. Certainly not you.a aWeare going to lose, arenat we?a There was no doubt in Cyrusas voice, but he kept it low, as though he could prevent the very thought from reaching any ears but his and the ones they were intended for.

aYou were at the moot,a Curatio said, moving his face behind the fire. aI presume you all came to that conclusion.a aAye,a Cyrus said and felt a stir within. aWeall fight to the end, but the aura of defeat is a itas upon us. We cannot push this foe back, canat seem to stagger them at all. All we do is lose ground, and so the Kings are resolved to give every man, woman and child as much time as possible by fighting a slow retreat to the Endless Bridge.a Cyrus swallowed heavily. aWeall bottleneck them there, or try to outrun them, hope they wonat cross the water. But Curatio, if they doa"a aYou think of Arkaria,a Curatio said. aOf them scourging across it as they have this land.a aHow can I not?a Cyrus asked, his voice hushed. aHow can I not look at what I have wroughta"or you, if you prefer to argue it that way, but regardless, the culpability is here at this firea"and not think about how this falls upon us? We may very well have caused the destruction of not only this land but also our own if these things follow across the Sea of Carmas.a Curatio was quiet, the air of a lecturer upon him. aYou asked if we are going lose a I have been in many battles, some more hopeless than this, if you can believe it. I was there at the end of the War of the Gods, when the city of the ancients was destroyed, everything but the Citadel. It was held by the Guildmaster of Requiem, a most stubborn fellow, as a place where the humans of the citya"slaves at the time, most of them, stayed to avoid the devastation.a Curatioas head came up, and he looked out into the darkness. aThat was an impossible fight, if ever there was one. In no way should we have won that. Yet we did; the long night passed and the Citadel still stood where little else remained.a He looked back at Cyrus. aYou ask me if weare going to lose? I donat think so. The odds are steep, but sometimes all it takes to win is to continue fighting until the odds change for some reason. There is temptation to call it a miracle when that happens. It is not, not always. Something changes, something little, something unexpected in many cases. But when it does change, victory goes to those who endure. We have not lost this fight yet, and we might not. I would tell you the same thing that I told the Guildmaster of Requiem that night in the Citadel when he wavereda"aDo not be afraid.aa Cyrus blinked and stared at the fire for a spell. aI didnat feel fear for the longest time, you know? They carved it out of me at the Society of Arms, made it so that I didnat feel it anymore. They taught me how to vanquish it, to make myself the master of it and turn it against others.a aNo, they didnat,a Curatio said quietly. aThey taught you how to not care about anything, how to cut yourself off from thoughts of a future, of the idea of people you loved, of having things to believe in beyond the God of War and the path of chaos.a Cyrus stiffened and gave it a momentas thought. aSo what if they did? Fearlessness is the most prized attribute of a warrior; it allows you to throw yourself into battles you know you canat win, to give a full commitment to the fight of a sort that an undecided, fearful person wonat.a Curatio cleared his throat. aForgive me for contradicting your years of training, but youare quite wrong. Iave seen your Society of Arms at work, and they certainly produce some impressive warriors. But I havenat seen any of them fight half as hard as I saw that Guildmaster fight for his people. No one has the indomitable spirit of a man with a cause in his heart. Iave watched Society-trained mercenaries go up against half their number of men defending their homeland and seen the lesser win. You think fearlessness is some strength? It is a lie; it is deception at its most base. A man who has nothing to live for can be fearless because he has nothing to lose. But a man who fears and throws himself into the battle regardless aa He shrugged lightly. aThat is a man I wouldnat care to face in a fight. And Iave faced more than my share.a Cyrus ran a hand along his beard. How can that be right? aThat doesnat make any sense, Curatio. A man filled with fear would be paralyzed, halted in his tracks, hesitanta"a aNo,a Curatio said. aA man filled with fear who surrenders to it would be all that you describe. But that is the great liea"you see a man charge into battle without hesitation, with great strength, against impossible odds, and you label him fearless. But if you talk to him afterwards, many a man of those would tell you he felt fear the entire timea"but greater than his fear of what would happen to him was anothera"that he would not be there for his brethren in a battle, that he would let them down, that his homeland would be destroyed if he failed to act.a He waved his hand around. aThese men of Luukessia? Most of them have no hope of one of our healers bringing them back from death, yet they fight to the death and most of them in a manner you might call fearless, yes?a Cyrus nodded. aClose enough. Some hesitation, not much. But a few, yes.a aYou think them fearless?a Curatio smiled grimly. aThey are driven by the greatest fear of alla"the loss of their homes, their families. They fight hard, harder than our own in many cases. A man fights harder for what he believes in, thatas a simple fact. It drives him to overcome that fear, to not let it paralyze him. No, Cyrus, I tell you right now that being fearless is never what would make you a great warrior. Being fearless could make you a great mercenary, perhaps. Believing in something so deeply that youad not only fight and die for it but that youad see yourself thrown down for it a hundred times, and get back up a hundred and onea"thatas what would make you a great warrior.a He blinked. aThatas what made him great.a Cyrus let the quiet wash over him. The smell of the fire and its crackle was all that consumed him; he felt as though his bones were roasting over it. Cattrine. He imagined her in Caenalys, tied to a stake. Iave been a fool. He rose unexpectedly.

aGoing somewhere?a Curatio asked, watching him shrewdly.

aCan our army continue to hold the center without me?a Cyrus asked.