Cyrus The slog was hard, the salt air on his tongue along with the sweat that fell in drops with his exertion. The breeze kept him cool under the sun, but with every swing of Praelior he let another exhalation out, another muted curse at the things that came at him, black eyes, foul breath, no souls, and he took his fury out upon them. Iave faced them for months, relentlessly, with all I had. This is the first time I can recall feeling so angry at them. He chanced a look back behind him; there was the faintest outline of land, far, far in the distance, barely visible even in the morning light. Hard to believe, that.

aYou know,a Terian said conversationally, to his right, aI honestly thought that at some point, after as many of these things as weave killed, that they would eventually run out of them. But no, I guess thousands of years of dead kind of pile up, huh?a aLess talking,a Longwell said, swinging his spear wide and sweeping five of the scourge over the edge of the bridge; he was to Cyrusas far right, past Terian. Odellan and Scuddar were to his immediate left. I anchor the line in the middle. Another three came at him, all teeth. Where they aim their onslaught hardest. aMore killing.a There were black stains running along the stone they stood upon, the fresh evidence of the chaos theyad unleashed. It ran along the slight grade toward Arkaria, filling the carved lines in the bridge, the infinitesimally small gaps that didnat seem like gaps at all to Cyrus, more like lines in the stone. Perfectly joined. No sign of mortar. The ancients must have been impressive indeed to have built this.

aAugh!a There was a cry to Cyrusas left, and he saw Odellan fall, his arm in the mouth of one of the creatures. Cyrus slashed forward, tightening his distance to the elf. He felt Terian move a little closer to the center of the bridge to compensate.

aItas all right,a Curatio called from behind them. aIave got him.a There was a moment that passed, as Cyrus cut the head from the scourge that had Odellanas wrist, and he watched it fall away. aAs much as they keep pushing you back,a the healer called, abe thankful that they donat do much damage.a aAt this point Iam just thankful that we have ground left to give,a Odellan said, looking back behind them before unleashing a savage flurry on the next scourge to come forward at him in a lunge. aThank you,a he said to Cyrus.

aNot a problem,a Cyrus replied, moving back to the center. He could sense Terian ease back to his lane of the bridge, as though they were moving in perfect synch. aJust like old times, huh?a aIam afraid that this is playing out much more like my defense of the Northbridge than your defense of the Grand Span,a Odellan said tensely as he brought his sword around and parried one of the scourge, letting it carry past him and into the waiting blades of the second line. Martaina and two warriors killed it quickly, before it had a chance to halt its forward momentum from the jump or turn on any of them.

aAye,a Cyrus said. aAnd thatas not the best of signs for any of us, considering how it all turned out on the balance.a aAt least they canat flank us,a Terian said. aUnless somehow they can crawl under the surface of the bridge.a His voice turned pensive. aPlease tell me they canat do that.a aLetas hope not,a Cyrus said, running Praelior across the face of a scourge and then taking the left shoulder off another before stomping it in the face, caving in its skull and killing it. He shot a look at the dark knight. aI know youare not doing this for me, but I appreciate you being here nonetheless.a aYouare welcome,a Terian said simply. aAnd youare right.a He brought the red sword down in a long arc that caught a leaping scourge across the nose as it jumped, its momentum arrested and thrown off to the side with the power of Terianas stroke. aIam not doing this for you.a aThen what are you doing it for?a Cyrus asked as he was forced to take another step back to parry a particularly aggressive and coordinated swiping attack from three scourge.

aI have my reasons,a Terian muttered, almost too low to be heard.

The sun rose higher in the sky as the day wore on. They gave ground steadily, and with every step and every furtive look back, Cyrusas unease grew. The tension in his belly became intense, roiling, meshing with the acid in his stomach that allowed him to ignore the fact that he hadnat eaten since the battle had begun earlier in the day. The horsemen were well out of sight now, the only remaining forces were the Sanctuary armya"the last line of defense before these things hit Arkaria. And weare failing. Slowly, but just as sure as if it were quick.

The sun began to set as Cyrusas muscles grew weary. He watched as his comrades grew slower, their arms wearying, but carrying on. Others came up, here and there, to spell them for a bit. Cyrus waved them off each time, the relief strong but not strong enough. Not as strong as me. Not as determined. They lose ground quicker. He tried to push forward and a scourge leapt forward and smashed into him. He held, swinging his blade at the beast, putting it through its heart, and he took another step forward but was driven back by a scampering rush of two of them, coming at him like dogs, their claws clicking on the stone as they tried to bowl him over. He ended them both with quick sword thrusts, dodging the teeth as they came at him but losing two feet in the process.

Two feet might as well be a mile, because it adds up to one when you lose it enough times. The sun had set, and he could no longer see the outline of Arkariaas shore, but he saw lights upon it in the distance, campfires from the Luukessian refugees. Driven from their homes into ours, and they may still die here. aFlame!a Cyrus called, and spells swept forward across the bridge, creating a scouring line as he took a deep breath, in and out. He watched Odellan slump, taking the momentas respite. Scuddar seemed to stand stiffly straight, while Longwell leaned on his lance. Terian stood next to Cyrus, though, hands on his sword, blade planted down, as though he were drawing strength directly from the stone of the bridge.

Night came, swirling with a thousand stars in the sky. Cyrus called for flame as often as he could, sucking down a skin full of water each time, making water when needed, taking a loaf of bread and eating as much as he could during the small breaks they were afforded, never more than five minutes or so at a time so as to give the small number of druids and wizards that remained a chance to refresh themselves.

It went on, the smell of death and fire, of roasted, rotted flesh all combined into one. The screams of the scourge dying rolled on, too, along with the lapping of the water against the pillars of the bridge in quieter moments and the crackle when the flame spells came down, roaring and raging against the enemy that came, unstoppably, before them.

aThis may be the longest night of my life,a Cyrus muttered to himself as the fire roared to life again. He saw black eyes watching him through the inferno, waiting, pacing on the other side.

aWorse than Termina?a Terian asked, winded, to his right. aYou know, I wasnat there for that, and I have to say a I am not sorry I missed it.a aYou didnat miss much,a Cyrus said. aThe worst parts were when an Unteraadon nearly ripped my head off with a ball and chaina"a aHe brought his wife to the fight?a Odellan asked quietly. Heads swiveled, and the elf shrugged. aI can joke, too. It just happens infrequently.a aLet me guess,a Terian said. aThe other bad part was when a dark knight nearly ripped you in half with a sword.a aAye,a Cyrus said as the wall of flame began to fade. aI had leapt into the midst of the army of dark elves because they had healers. They kept saving our enemiesa"Iad chop one down and head spring back up behind me a moment later. I took one out, but there was another. I ripped into the middle of their line, threw myself forward, killed him, but I got stabbed a few times in the process.a He raised Praelior and took the blade to the first scourge to charge off the line, severing the head and ripping the jaw off the next, causing it to make a guttural scream. aIt was then that I was attacked by the dark knight.a aBad timing,a Terian muttered. aIf head caught you fresh it would have been a hell of a fight. Maybe even one for the ages.a aMaybe not,a Cyrus said. aHis spells were doubtless strong; he might have just been the end of me with that one that rips the breath of life out of you.a aOh, yes,a Terian said and extended his hand to a scourge, let it glow slightly purple and a scream tore out of the scourgeas lips as it fell to the ground, dead. aThatas a good one. But you had a healer, didnat you?a aI was out of their range when the fight started,a Cyrus said. aBeing behind the enemy lines and all.a aStill,a Terian said, aas a dark knight, I expect to beat a warrior with a healer, not independently.a He stiffened as he cut another scourge to pieces mid-leap with his blade, which he brandished in front of him. It glowed in the dark, reflecting against him, revealing a solemnity Cyrus had rarely seen on the dark elfas face. aItas how I was trained.a He swung the blade back into motion.

aDid he teach you everything?a Cyrus asked, forced to parry an incoming scourge that went too low for him to effectively hit. aAbout how to fight?a Terian did not respond for a long moment, and the sounds of his heavy exertions hung in the air between them instead. aNo. Not nearly everything.a The night dragged on as did the war for ground. When the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon, there was a gasp when Cyrus looked back; the green and verdant shores of Arkaria were well in sight, the jungle past the beach was visible, the trees swaying in the wind.

aHours,a Odellan said next to him. aFew enough of them, too.a Cyrus felt his teeth grit unintentionally. Damn it. He felt the strength in his arms return, the weariness fade, replaced by an anger that brewed deep inside. He looked back to the enemy. Breathing deep, furious breaths, he clutched Praelior tighter and ripped into the flesh of the first of them that came at him, shredding it and sending it mewling to the side of the bridge and over the edge with the fury of his attack; it took two others with it from sheer force. Cyrus let out a warcry, a soul-deep shout of rage that did not even slow the scourge as it advanced at him. There was a rumble after that, and he both heard and felt it, a shake in his legs from the motion, and it gave him pause.

The breeze cut over from the sea, just for a moment, shifting off the scourgeas stink of death. It felt warm, as though the chill of the night had dissipated. Cyrusas eyes sharpened, his ears listened closer for the sound of thunder in the distance. No. Not thunder. He looked, and beyond the farthest reach of the enemy he could see it, a massive head and body, lengths above the height of a normal scourge. A cold chill came over him, the clutch of something unpredictablea"unfelta"unexpected.

Fear.

Chapter 108.

Vara Day 223 of the Siege of Sanctuary aIs this all you have?a she shouted over the crenellation of the wall, through the gap between it and the next, the teeth of the rampart. She threw an arm out and sent a blast of force at the nearest tower to her and watched it hit, blasting the supports out of the second level of it. She cast again, a quick incantation, and scored another hit as the siege machine crashed down upon the dark elves below it. Bodies fell in a wave all around it, like a stone dropping into the water sends out ripples.

She took a breath; the smell had worsened atop the wall, both from the unwashed bodies above and the dead in rot below. They keep pressing toward the mark, though, donat they? And they surely did; the advance had not relented since Alaric had left two days earlier.

The sound was still an uproar, a hundred thousand enemies surrounding them yet, minus however many were dead around the walls. She let her hand clink against her armor, bracing herself against the battlements. aCome on, then,a she whispered, more to herself than them. aIs this all you have?a aYou just have to go and tempt the gods with that, donat you?a She turned to see Andren slumped, much as she had seen him before, his flask in hand, taking a swig while shaking his head at her. aTheyare vengeful, you know. Lightning and fire and all that. Theyall get you back for that.a aI welcome them to try,a she said, looking back over the rampart. aHmm. Theyave brought more of their armored trolls, it would appear.a Lightning streaked past her head from a spell. aAnd wizards, too.a She chanced a look at Andren, who shook his head. aLightning. I warned you.a She breathed again deeply, twice, and dipped her head and hand over the wall. Another siege tower rolled forward and she aimed for it but pulled back as it burst into flame. Down the wall she saw Larana throw fire at another one then dodge behind a crenellation as a volley of arrows targeted her segment for bombardment.

aDonat they know by now we can kill their siege towers?a Andren asked, looking slightly sideways, just for a second, around the battlement, before dodging back as an arrow shot past his head. For that, he took another drink.

aCertainly,a she replied and dodged out to fire twice at ladder-bearing enemies. The two in front were blasted clear and the ladder dipped, hitting the ground and causing the dark elves at the back to stumble. aBut every one they push forward is another distraction for us.a She turned her head to look at the gates. aSoon enough theyall have their battering ram back in service aa She let her voice trail off as she stared at the battering ram. It was unmoving, with only a few dark elves hiding behind it for cover. aThatas odd.a aWeare being bombarded by enemy arrows numbering in the millions,a Andren said, asiege towers are rolling across our fields as fast as the dark elves can push them. Tell me, in the midst of all that, what is odd? Flying mounts? Because Iave seen those before.a He looked skyward for just a moment. aActually, Iam surprised I donat see them right now.a aTheyare rare and valuable enough that surely the Sovereign wants to keep them for an assault on the Elven Kingdom if he needs to,a she answered almost by rote instinct. aNo, theyare not making any efforts with the battering ram.a She turned to look at the siege towers. aBut neither are their siege towers making the sort of progress which would inspire one to halt their efforts there.a She frowned. aWhich begs the question of whya"a It was not even before she got the words out that the explosion rocked the battlements and the stone arch above the gate disintegrated in a cloud of flame and debris. Her head ached and she realized she was lying flat, her cheek pressed against the stone of the curtain wall. She lifted herself up, tasted blood in her mouth and felt the sting on her lip where she must surely have bit it. There was a ringing in her ears, as though someone was calling her to worship with a bell just outside her helm, and she had to blink to see clearly. Somewhere, faintly, in the distance, there was a roar, and as she pushed herself to her feet she felt a deep disquiet, a certaintya"fear, she realized, as she whipped around to look at the gate, where the dust and cloud of smoke had already begun to clear, leaving a twenty-foot-wide gap in the wall where the gate had fallen, and already there rushed an onslaught of dark elvesa"banding up, filling in, like water rushing forward into a crack.

The dark elves had entered the grounds of Sanctuary.

Chapter 109.

Cyrus The fear did not pass, not as Cyrus expected it to. Imagine the arena, imagine the sand beneath my feet, the smell ofa" All that came to his mind was left behind as Drettanden, the God of Couragea"or what remains of hima"came forth, knocking aside his own allies, clearing the bridge as he went.

aNot good,a Odellan said. aAny plan to stop this thing?a aFlame!a Cyrus called out, and a moment later the wall of fire dropped down in front of them, ten feet high. Cyrus could see through the jumping inferno as the smaller scourge stopped. He blinked; Heas not stopping!

Drettanden kept on, charging along the bridge, and sped up as he came to the flames. With only a secondas warning, he jumped, half clearing the massive wall of fire that crossed the stone bridge, dividing it off.

aDIVE!a Cyrus called and jumped sideways, slamming into Terian, who reacted just a second more slowly than he had. Cyrusas head hit the inside of his armor, hard, and jarred him as it did so. The two of them spun off, just out of the way of the beastas massive paw as it came down where Cyrus had been only a moment before. He watched the one on the other side catch Odellan in the chest, and the elf had only the briefest chance to scream before he was caught underfoot in a sickening crunch of bone and blood, as red liquid squirted out from the place where Drettanden had landed.

aYou SON OF A BITCH!a Cyrus forced himself upright, sword in hand. He waved Praelior in the sunlight at the creature, ayou see this?a Drettandenas head snapped into line with him. aWas this yours? Well, itas mine now!a He brought it back, ready to swing. aIf you want it, come and take it.a aBad idea,a Terian said from behind him. aThat thingas pretty big, it might just do ita"a Without warning, Drettanden swiped out with a paw the size of a dwarf, and Cyrus used all the speed that Praelior gave him to surge forward and attack it. He met the blow head-on, sword extendeda"Just like with Mortusa"and when it sent him flying he had the momentary satisfaction of knowing that the howl he heard was his foe in pain.

He lay there, staring up at the clouds, the dawn and the horizon. It was bright, the sun, shining down on him, and the sound of sea gulls not far away was almost peaceful somehow. There was pain, but it was distant, already fading. He felt his fingers curled around the weapon in his hand, and the thought came to him. Praelior, the Championas Sword. Made by the God of Courage. Did he fight to the death to keep it when they came for him? He felt a smile crack his face, realized there was a tooth out of place in his mouth and pressed his tongue idly against it. Did he show courage at the last? Did he fight til the end or cower? Because that would be quite the irony, wouldnat it a? the God of Courage, filled with fear a aGet up,a Curatio said, shaking him.

Cyrus felt the life flood back to his limbs, and the pain went to a dull ache, replaced in his guts with a blinding rage. He vaulted to his feet and came up to the spectacle of a battle on the bridge. Drettanden was covered with arrows all over his grey flesh. A flame spell hit him in the face as he shrugged it off, roaring and snapping into a Sanctuary ranger who Cyrus didnat get a good look at before the man was gone, devoured whole, red staining the teeth and lips of the beast. The wall of flame remained behind Drettanden, cutting off the smaller scourge, keeping the flood of them from coming forward and overwhelming the Sanctuary army, which was already hesitating; he could feel it.

He cried out again, a bellow of fury, and leapt through the air after a few running steps, and buried his sword in an upper leg. Just like a dragon, only it canat fly. Dangerous mouth. He could feel his mind breaking it down. I ran at Kalam, went right at his face. I taunted the Dragonlord into making some stupid mistakes. I came at Mortus head-on, I wona"with help. Hacked him to pieces. aSanctuary!a Cyrus called out. aTo me!a He buried his blade again in the upper thigh and let himself slide down as the leg kicked and kicked again, as though Drettanden were a dog trying to rid himself of a flea.

Cyrus took the chance. He planted both feet then backflipped, withdrawing his sword as he did so. He landed perfectly, the balance granted by Praelior saving him from a catastrophic landing. Agility. Speed. Hostility. He cannot match me in these ways. Drettanden let out a roar that flattened the Sanctuary ranger standing in front of him.

Maybe the hostility.

Cyrus brought back the sword and hacked at the tendon at the back of the leg, drawing a sharp cry from Drettanden. Cyrus dodged the back kick that followed and slunk back as the former god swiveled to face him. Cyrus let him come, dodged into the blind spot behind the neck and raked his sword across the fold at the back of the jaw, sending a slick line of black blood whipping across the ground. He struck twice more, pivoting and rolling against the body of Drettanden as the creature turned, bouncing off and using its own momentum against it. Hereas a trick I bet you havenat seen before, outrunning you with your own strength. At the last move, he spun again out in front and brought his sword across the creatureas flat nose, drawing a screech of pain that caused it to buck its head.

The nose hit Cyrus perfectly in the arm, numbing it to the elbow and sending him flying. As he was tossed through the air, he saw the battle unfolding. Odellan, pulled off to the side, alive again but a mess, nowhere near ready for combat. Scuddar, lingering in the shadow of a supporting pillar of the bridge, his scimitar raised and attacking Drettandenas tail. Longwell, backed almost to the firewall, his lance gonea"no, buried in the side of the beasta"sticking out like a splinter of wood. Cyrus felt all the air leave him as he hit the ground, his head slammed against the hard stone, and then felt the ground give way around him.

Edgea"

His good hand reached out, scraping against the stone surface, and he caught himself just as he started to fall over. The jarring ran down his whole arm, all the way up to the shoulder where he felt the scream of pain, agonizing, ligaments tearing and protesting as he held his own weight and all that of his armor with one hand. He hung there, fingers tight against the stone, as he fought to get the other up to grip the edge. A blast of foul, rotting breath hit him in the face like a physical blow and he recoiled. His eyes danced toward the shore, miles and miles off. Not in this armor. Not on a day when I was fully rested, let alone one where Iave fought without sleep nor a good meal in over a day a The face of Drettanden appeared over him, at the edge, looking down. The red eyes twitched, and Cyrus could hear pain being inflicted on the creature by the Sanctuary army behind him. It doesnat care. It stared at him, two red abysses looking deep into his own eyes, and Cyrus watched the dead god raise his foot, five claws hanging off the grey flesha"raised it and brought it downa"

Chapter 110.

He remembered the arena in a flash, like the rumored last memory that came before certain death. It was more than a feeling, more than words; it was everything about the experience, all summed up in something that lasted a mere second of time but encompassed so much else beyond that.

Six. I was six.

The manas name was Erkhardt, and Cyrus knew him only in passing. A dwarf he was, the one who had waited outside the Society the night that Cyrus had been brought back as a child. The dwarf smelled of old leather and wafts of something else, a strong, fermented scent. He stood before young Cyrus, in the arena, the quiet all around them. Cyrus shuddered, the chill in the air from winter. His eyes caught the glint of the still-burning candles off the axe slung over the dwarfas shoulder, a battle axe with a blade wider than Cyrusas entire body. He shivered again, rubbing his hands against his bare arms; since being assigned no blood family, the clothing that was fought over once per month when new skins and cloth came in had been too difficult for him to secure. Blood Families stick together for everything. Cyrus was small, too small to fight them all. Put me against the ones my own age and Iada"but I canat, the others are too big, theyare just too big, and the Guildmaster willa"

aListen,a the dwarf said.

Cyrus did. He was not allowed to address any of the trainers unless they asked him for a response. None of the others even addressed him individually, let alone found him where he hid in the night and bade him to follow them to the arena.

aDo you hear that?a Erkhardt asked.

aNo,a Cyrus said, his voice unusually small even to him.

aThatas silence, lad,a the dwarf said with a slight smile, one finger held in the air. aThe silence of rest. Youave learned to hide yourself; thatas good. Itall be necessary until you get bigger, big enough to fight them. Youall be a big lad too, no doubt. Until then a you need to learn something.a Cyrus waited, patiently. I will not speak until spoken to, I will not speak until spoken to, ran through his head over and over. He felt a weak memory of pain radiating from his lip until that lesson had sunk in. There was a question, though, one that he wanted, needed to ask, couldnat contain anymore. aCan you take my fear away?a The dwarf blinked at him. aSorry, what?a Cyrus swallowed, hard. aWhat the Guildmaster said on the first day. He said he could teach us to be without fear. I donat a I donat want to be afraid anymore.a Erkhardt surveyed him with a solemn eye. aWhat are you afraid of?a Cyrus swallowed, hard. aEverything.a The dwarf gave him a subtle nod. aYou need not fear everything. And I donat know that thereas any man who is truly fearless.a aBut the Guildmaster saida"a aThe Guildmaster,a Erkhardt says, afears many things. Bellarum, for one. The Leagues and the Council of Twelve, for others. Listen,a he knelt down, just slightly, to put his hand on Cyrusas shoulder. Cyrus stared at the subtle pressure in surprise; no one had touched him since the night head returned to the Society for any purpose other than striking him. aThe only way a man can be truly fearless is to care for absolutely nothing, including his own life. Thatas a dark road, and few enough men can become soulless enough to pull it off.a He gave Cyrus a reassuring smile. aIf you want couragea"which is the virtue of being able to look fear in the face in spite of all the daunting it would give you, well, thatas something I can tell you about.a Cyrus felt his lips crack open and the words desperately wanted to come out in a plea, begging for the how. Instead he remained silent.

aTo put aside fear,a Erkhardt said, ayou must confront it. Courage is standing up to it, facing it. Pain, suffering,a he put a hand on Cyrusas jaw and a slight twinge radiated out from it from where he had been hit a week earlier. aThese are normal things to fear. If you want to master fear, stare it in the eyes.a Erkhardt stood. aAnd if you want to be able to face it harder than any other man you know, then find something a something you truly can believe in, put your faith in, your trust in a and you fight for that thing. Or that person.a Erkhardt looked out the sidelong path up the arena steps. aThey wonat tell you that here. Theyall tell you about the God of War, theyall tell you to believe in him. I carry my doubts that thatas the best way to proceed. But Iall tell you this, a man whoas fighting for something he believes in will fight ten times as hard and look worlds more fearless than a man who cares for nothing, believes in nothing. An empty soul means when times become hardest, it doesnat matter that youare fearless, because youare not going to fight for anything but yourself anyway.a Cyrus looked into those dark eyes, saw the warmth in thema"the last warmth I saw for some time after that, the adult Cyrus remembereda"and listened. aNow,a Erkhardt says, athereas something you need to learn before I leave this place. Something more important than believing aa Cyrus blinked and the memory, the feeling, was no more than that. His fingers strained at the edge of the bridge, the sun beat down overhead on the face of Drettanden, and those red eyes stared back at him. The smell of salt air from the sea wafted under his nose, his knuckles ached and longed to be set loose, and he wondered in that moment if there was, in fact, anything left to believe in.

Chapter 111.

Vara Day 223 of the Siege of Sanctuary It was broken loose now, all manner of hell, and she knew it from her place on the wall. The smell of something new was in the air, acrid, sharp, oddly chemical, like something from an alchemistas shop but worse. It wafted in the smoke that came from where the wall had exploded, and even now the crater where the gates had stood only moments earlier was filled from the surge of dark elves, clambering across the dead space of the battlefield. The smell of the dead was overwhelming.

She jumped from the top of the wall without thought, hitting at the bottom of the thirty-foot fall and already whispering a healing spell as she heard her leg break. There was a push as the bone realigned itself and thrust her back to her feet, her joint pain subsiding as she ran, charging toward the place where the enemy was coming through into the yard, picking through the debris with shouts and screams of imminent victory. They smell the blood of their foe. They know it comes soon, the end. But I will show them their end, not ours. Coming through that wall is the worst mistake they have made yet, because now they face the teeth of this tigress. She didnat smile, but it was close, a white-hot rage at the violation of her home. And this tigress is bloody hungry.

Her sword found its first target, a troll warrior who was looking the wrong damned way. Trolls seemed to be the leading edge, ten feet tall, most of them. The smell of swamp wafted off of them in waves, as though they had been freshly plucked out of Gren and its surroundings, fitted with armor, and thrown to the front lines. A bold move. Savvy, though, O Bastard Sovereign. She spilled the beastas guts out with a crosswise slash and ran on, clashing next with three dark elven warriors in full armor. She broke the sword of the first with a furious slash, splintering the blade and then the manas helm. She made a stabbing motion toward the next to feint then kicked him with such fury in the chest that his armor dented in and he clutched himself in pain. The third she brought her sword across, aiming for the neck but hitting low and glancing off his armor, leaving a deep crease in the steel. She swung around faster than he could adapt to her angle of attack and came up with a strike that caught him where the legging armor of his greaves met his groin and the armor broke. The man folded, and she finished him with a stroke to the face, plunging her sword into his open-faced helm.

They were coming too fast, though, and she saw others around her; the red armor of Thad, fighting off four of them, Belkan with his sword and shield, battering away at another one. Fortin had waded into the fray and pieces of bodies began to fly through the air with every hit the rock giant levied. Flames shot forth into the new hole in the wall, scorching those that were there, turning back the advance. The dark elven assault had stalled, and the first wave that had besieged the wall was trapped. Yes. Come forth a few at a time, and weall destroy you in those small numbers. Weall plunge blades into you, spear you to death, stick your heads upon pikes as warnings to the next to come that this is what happens when you face the might of Sanctuary. You can carry the message back to your Sovereign, with your very deaths, that he a will a not a break a ME.

She took a breath as the battle began to subside. There were a few more of them now, and Fortin was wiping the last of them out, holding a dark elf in each hand and listening to them squeal as he crushed the life from their armor, squeezing it in the palm of his hand as she listened to it strain under the screams, heard the cracking of bones and the rending of flesha"and she did not stop him.

aThey failed,a Thad said, a rough smile on his face. aThey made their bid, some new magic and horror, thata"but they failed. We held them back.a He nodded to the hole in the wall, blocked by fire, then looked to Mendicant. aCan you maintain that?a aFor a time,a the goblin agreed.

aThen drop it,a Vara said, aand let them come forth for a while before you raise it again. aWeall disassemble them piecemeal, a hundred at a time, and in a thousand cycles of this weall have them killed.a She wore a grim smile. aWe can hold them back like this, we can defeat them. The Sovereign will come to rue the day he ever set upon us herea"a The explosion whistled first then loudly blew down the section of wall a few hundred feet to the left of the gate. Vara covered her head instinctively but looked back quickly and saw that another fifty-foot gap of wall had been removed, smoke in its place, and the first surge of dark elves came through, wildly, screaming their victory. And they came even as another explosion rocked the ground from the wall far down to the other side and then another and another.

Chapter 112.

Cyrus There was nothing but the soulless eyes of death, staring at him, waiting, looking him down. The teeth were exposed, and something dripped onto his facea"blood, he realized as it speckled him, spattered on his black armor, the strong smell of it came to his nose along with the wet, disgusting feeling of the sticky saliva mixed with it. It was enough to make him want to let go, to let his fingers, screaming with pain, release, but he held on. He stared back into the red eyes, heard the low growl that Drettanden made, and wondered where his army was, what they were doing. There were screams in the distance, of pain or surprise, he couldnat tell, but they were there.

The pain in his knuckles was near unbearable. Even the cushioning in the gauntlets did not assuage it, the searing ache that radiated out from having the entirety of his weight relying on the one hand. He tried to readjust, staring back at Drettanden, lifting his other arm, still numb from the scourge-godas blow, and trying to reach up to the bridge. He failed and nearly lost his grip. I canat do this. I canat hold on. Why am I bothering? Itas over. Heas broken through our line. The minute that fire drops, his friends will join him and thatall be it. Theyall be on Arkaria, and there will be no stopping them, even if we could get everyone allied and cooperating. This is the end. Iave failed. He looked from the red eyes, the hopeless feeling they conveyed, to the sea below, blue-green waves lapping against the support. I could drop, fall in, all the way down to the bottom a and itad all be over a And why not? He looked up at the face of the former god, at the paw poised to destroy strike him down, hovering, and wondered. Why should I not go? What is there to stay for? What is there to live for? To see my people destroyed one slow step at a time? To watch as this thing overcomes us and kills everything in its path? What is there to fight for, to believe in a? The scourge-god looked at him and seemed to smile, the jagged teeth dripping with malice as his clawed foot began to descend on Cyrus a There was a blast of force and Drettanden blew sideways, a sudden shock in its eyes as it was flung, slipping, into the nearby pillar atop the bridge. Cyrus heard the stone break along with bone, and the mewling scream from the scourge creature was louder than any he had heard since a dragon had shouted at him.

Itas not over.

He swung his other arm around again, clamped the other hand onto the side of the bridge. No leverage. Iall have to pull myself all the way up if Iam to do this. He blinked and looked down at the water again, and it looked so appealing, the dark and mysterious depths.

aThat is not the way,a a voice said from above him, and he felt a hand upon hisa"strong, clenching at his gauntlet. He looked up and felt a wash of relief at the sight, the half of a face that showed from beneath the old helm; the battered armor was recognizable in an instant.

aAlaric,a Cyrus said and pulled as the Guildmaster stood, dragging him up. For the knight it appeared no struggle at all, and he lifted Cyrus back upon the bridge and nearly to his feet without effort. He stared at the old knightas chin, at his grey eye sparkling beneath the slit in the helm. aAlaric a you came.a aI could not leave you to face these foes alone,a the Ghost said, turning back to Drettanden. aI see you have run into a difficulties.a There was a roar from Drettanden as it staggered off the broken pillar and turned toward Cyrus and Alaric, snorting and spitting blood, both red and black, upon the stone bridge.

aThatas Drettanden,a Cyrus said, looking at the creature. aOr whatas left of him.a aIndeed,a Alaric said coolly, and Cyrus felt pressure in his palm as Alaric pressed Praelior into his hand. aYouall be needing this, then.a aAye,a Cyrus said and took a fighting stance, sword in hand. aYou could just hit him again, you know?a He looked to Alaric. aSweep him off the bridge and into the water, end this?a The eyes behind the helm did not blink. aI think he would always hold some mastery over you if I were to do that. Do not fear to face that which confounds you. Look it in the eyes and strike it down.a Cyrus took a ragged breath and looked back at the God of Courage, fallen as he was, a distorted and pathetic creature, snarling at Alaric. aAll right.a He took a step forward, then another, breaking into an attacking run. He let the air fill his lungs again, the anger course through his veins. Theyall destroy my land. Theyall crush everything that matters to me. Theyall break my home, and the entirety of my world will be consumed by death a He brought the blade around as Drettanden snapped at him. He sunk it into the nose and across the lips, snagging it on a tooth, which broke free when he ripped hard at the hilt. A paw came up at him to strike but he dodged and blocked with his blade, letting the glow of it guide him to the grey and pallid skin. He heard the screech of a good block, listened to the pain, and roared himself as he struck again at the face, that soulless face with empty eyes. He saw the flash of his blade in them, the glow reflected as he ripped into the creatureas cheek, gouging the mouth wider with his strike.

The head came around again but Cyrus was ready. Instead of dodging, he threw himself at it, blade first. He buried the sword in the side of the head, and Drettanden halted his forward momentum quickly, screeching, jerking away rather than following through with a headbutt that would have sent Cyrus flying. Strike at your fear, and it will recoil. He worked the sword free, prompting Drettanden to retreat three steps to swing about to face him. Grasp at it and it will dissolve in the sunlight. Confront it, make it your own a and make it fear you.

He let out a cry of rage and emotion, jumping into the air and striking down with the blade again. A streak of black blood welled up on the face of the dead god, and he backed up again toward the still-standing wall of fire, toward the foes that waited beyond, a chorus of wailing voices and gnashing teeth. Cyrus pressed the attack and Drettanden moved into the fire and recoiled, screaming in a voice that was almost human but very definitely not. With three quick strikes, Cyrus carved into the face of the beast, and when it tried to bat at him, he slipped low and waited for the paw to land. You are faster than your fears. You need not outrun them when you can outfight them, conquer them, make them yours a He threw everything into the thrust, all his strength, the full twist of his hips and back, and he landed the blow at the ankle joint of Drettandenas front leg. Praelior buried itself into the grey flesh all the way to the bone. Cyrus forced it in, harder now, gritting his teeth and pushing with all his strength as the creature lifted its foot.

With a surge forward, Cyrus felt the flesh and bone give first, and the foot came free, as did his sword. He stumbled forward then dodged to his left as Drettanden fell, squealing all the way down. The scourge-god landed heavily on his face, now missing a foot to stand on. Cyrus whirled about, saw the creature lying splayed out, and he spun his sword around. aYou wanted to make me fear you. You thought you could drive me before you, keep running me.a Cyrus clenched his hand over the grip of the sword as he reversed it. aYou think this is your sword, but itas not. I won it through a price paid you canat imagine, through sacrifice you probably canat even conceive of anymore. This is Praelior, the Championas Sword. And Iam going to give it back to youa"right now.a Cyrus leapt, his arc taking him high above the creature. He landed heavily on the back of its neck as it struggled to stand. Without warning he plunged the blade down into the top of Drettandenas skull, and he couldnat even feel the resistance as he shoved it into the head of what once had been the God of Courage. There was a sound almost like a sizzle as the blade cut through the flesh, broke through bone, and then a sickening lurch as the creatureas balance shifted. As its legs collapsed, Cyrus withdrew the sword and vaulted off, coming to a landing and hitting with his shoulder, sliding into a forward roll that carried him back to his feet, armor clinking against the stone surface of the bridge.

He came up and Alaric was waiting, standing there peacefully calm, watching. Odellan was there, ghastly pale but alive, Longwell next to him, holding his side and using his lance to keep him upright. Scuddar watched as well, and Terian; the others stood back a ways, and Cyrus could see a druid straining, red glow around his hands.

aYou may cease the fire now,a Alaric said to the druid, who dropped mercifully to the ground at that. Martaina caught the man in her arms and began to drag him backward. aYou seem to have come up against your fears and won.a aAye,a Cyrus said. aI suppose I did, at that.a aYou couldnat have done that at Enrant Monge?a Terian asked, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. aMight have made it easier on the rest of us.a aSorry,a Cyrus said, spinning about as the line of fire began to disappear from the bridge. aI donat think it quite works that way.a aFigures,a the dark knight said. aYouare so screwed up it took you a year to get the idea ironed out in your head that youare the greatest warrior walking the land of Arkaria.a Cyrus looked at him in surprise, and the dark knight shook his head. aOr so Iave heard others say.a aThey come,a Longwell said. aThat big one might be dead, but thereas a whole host behind him that isnat letting up.a Cyrus looked back at them, and the smell of death washed over him. It was familiar and horriblea"but no longer fearsome. He saw the black eyes and the emptiness within them, but instead of fear, he felt a curiosity, a pitya"They didnat ask to become this. To end them is a mercy. A cool reserve found him, a confidence, a glacial sense of inevitability. We will strike down many today. Kill many. They were loosed now, the fire no longer holding them back. They rushed forward in a mad dash, coming at Cyrus, at the others. He hefted Praelior in his hand, felt the weight of the blade, heard the scamper of the claws on the stone, and could taste the desire to break them as fast as they could come at him. Come on, then. Send all that you have, and Iall fight them. To the deatha"mine or theirs. And Iad wager theirs comes long before mine.

Iam not afraid of you.

Chapter 113.

Vara Day 223 of the Siege of Sanctuary They came in a flood now, from all directions, from holes in the wall that were beyond number. The Sanctuary defenders were forced up against the front steps in retreat, and there was fighting everywhere within the walls. There is only room in this space for a few thousand, but a few thousand we have and more. A few thousand of ours trying to beat them back, a few thousand of theirs trying to come forward, and weall be left with a few thousand dead on each side by the time this is througha"a better bargain for them with their more than a hundred thousand in number than us with our less than four.

The striking of swords, the guttural cries of men and women at war: these were the things that dominated the space around her. Clash of weapon against weapon, of blade on blade and against armor, shield and gauntlet. It was frenzied chaos, wall to wall, a shoving match and a swordfight all in one, and the smell of the dead filled her nose until she could taste it, death and despair in equal measure, and no matter how many times she plunged her sword into a dark elf, it did not cease.

Fortin was at the gap, the closest one, where the gate had once stood, and he was holding out, armored bodies flung through the air every few seconds. She saw spells arcing toward him but the rock giant appeared unmoved by them, and another armored dark elf hit the wrecked wall, cracking and screaming as he fell back to the earth.

A fire burst held the next gap, surging, almost a living flame, reminding her of the bit of magic shead seen used against the trolls at the last assault on the foyer. Weare losing. Too many of them, too few of us, and all the time in the world helps us little. She felt a nick against her arm as a dagger bit into it and she gasped but did not halt her swing. She killed the wielder of the blade and was prepared to deal death to the next dark elf in line when a face popped into her view.

aThis is not going well,a Aisling said to her, wrenching a dagger across the throat of an unsuspecting dark elf who stood between her and Vara.

aAh, so your talent for understatement is what Cyrus finds attractive about you,a Vara muttered, striking down another dark elf with even more fury than she thought she had in her.

aActually, itas my talent fora"a The dark elf was forced to parry a strike by a troll, rolling between his legs and coming up behind him to strike him in the kidneys with two blades. aWell,a she called back to Vara as the troll toppled over, clutching his back. aYou know.a Vara did not answer, but a bout of fury overcame her and the next enemy who crossed her sight line ended up bisected at the waist from an unrelenting strike. As the upper body fell, she parlayed it into a diagonal cross strike of her next foe, and she saw the blood shining from his exposed ribs as he fell. Go on, bitch. Say it again. Tell me all about it, I could use some rage to fuel my fire. She raised a hand at the gap in the wall to their left and mentally repeated the incantation she knew by heart; at the last moment a bit of excess anger bled into her thoughts and something hiccupped from her hand, a blast of pure, furious force that ballooned wider than shead ever made it go before. It surged forward, knocking flat half a hundred dark elves flooding through the gap, flinging countless numbers of them into the air and into their fellows to sounds of bones breaking, men screaming in pain, and bodies falling from their apogee, some launched as far as twenty feet into the air. She blinked and looked back to Aisling in surprise.

The dark elf stared back at her, openmouthed. aWould it help if I taunted you again?a aIt wouldnat help you,a Vara growled, and turned back to the enemies that came at her in two prongs. Her sword was a blaze of motion, and the frenzy was more than she could stand. He held her, touched her, wasa"WITH hera"smelling her white hair, pressing his skin against hers. She fought off the urge to feel anything but the rage and turned it loose, sword a blur of fury, blood scything through the air around her.