The sun was high and the flags flying proudly.

With the wind at his back, the General stood at the head of the crowd of new soldiers. Known simply as the General, without any titles or accolades, the stony figure stood on the platform alone.

"It is a sad day, today," the General spoke.

Whispers started up and cut off. He was speaking again. "Today, the Third Lion army marches from the gates of our fair city of Tirien. A fine sight, to see so many young men and women. A cheer that will inspire many more to take your now vacant places in the Guard and in the Academy. "

The General paused again. There were no whispers this time. "You will go East where the enemy lies. There you will find the true meaning of our fight. The Enemy is great. Your weapons will shatter in your hands, your magic will fail you, your bodies and life go to their final rest. "

The utter silence that gripped the parade ground let his next words carry to the ends even when whispered. "That is why this is a sad day. Inath owes much to you, who are giving your life and magic to the great war. Not one day passes when I wonder, 'how can this war be ended?' 'how can we win?' 'how do I save your lives?'... 'who next shall I send to be destroyed?'. May you wonder long and hard too, there is much you can do to help. "

His cloak flapping in the wind outlined the harsh lines of his armour. Practical and definitely not parade material. "So you see why this is not a happy occasion. The nobles of Inath will throw a party and stage a parade, filled with cheers and laughter. They know the true cost but do not wish to face it. Enjoy yourselves, for soon there will little blessings to count and much to curse. "

The General nodded at the handlers holding the ropes at the far wall. They pulled down the tarp covering the newly engraved section. "Go, then, and rest assured that your names live on in memory of stone. I have nothing more to say. "

"You see it?"

"Where are they? There's nothing down here!" Morey shouted back. The Night Cryer nest was empty. He was given to understand that it was unusual at this time of the day.

There was an unearthly, monstrous cry from outside the shallow cave and Morey rushed back out, hacking away the vines.

The Night Cryers had been waiting for them, watching from further up the mountainside. Since when these beasts so cunning?

"Defensive line!" Etani shouted, "Nal, back! Temat, into the cave!"

Nal, a short and short-tempered Spellstorm scurried backwards without argument. For once.

"Look out! They're taking off!" Etani shouted again as the flight of Night Cryers soared into the skies with their dreaded cry. Temat brushed past Morey and disappeared into the 'safety' of the Night Cryer's own nest.

There was a flare of powerful magic behind him, like a light unseen. Nal muttered under her breath and began to construct her signature magic. Heedless of the danger, the Night Cryers turned over and dived at them in a spaced formation of threes. Morey gulped, he counted nine of them, a full flight.

As Etani and Morey began to build walls of magic to shield themselves, the Night Cryers opened their mouths and seemed to suck in the magic from the air. Then with another cry, the diving Night Cryers swerved upwards, hurling the globs of magic from their mouths into the short line.

The aim was poor but that did not stop the blasts from ringing Morey's ears. The air seemed to explode around them, pressure waves buffeting them from the front and sides. The thin mountain soil was ripped away and cracking rock sent deadly shards sleeting in all directions.

Etani's shield absorbed the worst of the blows. Her forged steel armour from head to toe clinked and clattered as stones added another layer of scratches to the well-worn surface. Morey's own shield, much weaker, deflected still more and Nal's armour caught the rest.

And then, in a split second of chaos, it was over. They weren't even injured! He could tell the shield took a lot out of Etani though, she was struggling to even stand straight. Come to think of it, Morey didn't trust his own legs to move if he had to, they felt like he was standing on two sticks of jelly.

The Night Cryers climbed out of their steep dive. Having survived the first go, Morey wasn't sure they could get away unscathed again, it was now their turn. Nal had split her magic into eighteen identical spells, arrayed around her in circles, and with only a thought sent a stream of bolts leaping skyward.

Nal's fingers twitched as she concentrated hard, her eyes unblinking as she tried to watch all the bolts at once. This was why she was one of the best out of the Academy, it was an unusual Spellstorm to be able to channel even ten spells at once, for her to also maintain contact and control them was what gave her the dubious nickname Tiny Hurricane.

With a surprised squawk, the big matriarch folded up as six bolts slammed into it, destroying its lifeforce. Then the flurry of bolts ripped through the formation, killing another four. Etani joined in with a large fire spell that filled the air with a heat haze and roasted another.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

The surviving three Night Cryers swerved away and began to run before the bodies even hit the ground. Morey let the spell he was building go, feeling a bit useless. He still couldn't control magic well enough to attack that far away.

"Is it over?" Temat asked as the magical signatures faded away.

"Yeah, they didn't even stay and fight, not like the records said," Nal said. Did she just complain that the Night Cryers had run away, or was that just Morey's imagination?

"Without a rider, they won't," Temat explained, "my grandparents said they had to fight to keep Night Cryers on the attack when the pack had taken losses, much less if you shot out the matriarch. "

Etani plucked at her scratched armour, scraping out a piece of rock from the joint. "These repulsion spells never quite work properly," she complained, rubbing at a bruise where the shard had been scraping her.

Oh, yes, that. Morey checked himself once over, but there was nothing on his armour. His armour was better quality than even Etani's, although it lacked the customized web of spells and defenses that any true warrior built up over time. That probably wasn't the reason however, the fact that he was behind two shields instead of one was probably it.

Temat brought their attention back to the cave, "I found something interesting inside though. "

He lead them back into the cave. To Morey, it was just filled with junk and rotting scraps of hunts. Then Temat dug into the pile of straw and pulled out a single egg larger than his own head. It was still warm.

"Notice the pattern on it?" he pointed at the black lines criss-crossing the surface, "Night Cryer eggs don't normally look like that. "

"Does that have anything to do with the Night Cryers rejecting human handlers?" Etani asked.

"I don't know. I've never seen this before. But it might just have something to do with that incident, we haven't exactly bred Night Cryers since twenty years ago," Temat said, "Let's bring it back and I can study it a bit more when it hatches. "

Danine trudged wearily through the mud, her improvised sandals of dried grass were most definitely not going protect her feet.

She pouted for what must have been the hundredth time today. Danine thought she was going to be miserable after watching her house burn down but the elements conspired against her. The merciless sun and humid air was unforgiving. Her legs ached from the constant slow walk. Even the mud sucked at her feet and got in between her toes for a wonderfully horrible squishy slimy... she cut off the train of thought. Only the lack of bugs kept her from going positively insane.

Other people didn't seem to have any problem crying and sobbing about the dead. What was wrong with her? In the fairy tales Father used to tell her over his knee, there was love and grief. Danine had expected to be bawling her eyes out, but there was simply nothing. The most disturbing thing she remembered seeing fleeing the village was a troop of piyos burning to death, futilely trying to escape their locked and abandoned pens, but the abstract horror and pity simply didn't have the emotional depth of her brother's funeral a year ago.

No one in the stories seemed to be bothered by stepping, painfully, on a bumpy rock. Or the hot humid air near the sea. Or the fact that walking for hours every day really hurt your body.

Another drop of sweat dripped down her back and onto her soggy tail. She didn't even have any energy to wring it out, but there was no point when it would get sodden in another hour anyway.

Her mother handed her a flagon of water. Almost instantly, it was gone, leaving poor Danine to sweat it all out of her pores. Soon, it would be her turn to pull the cart and she was not looking forward to it, even if her shift was the shortest and Father kept trying to help her.

There was a whoop somewhere behind her. Danine looked up to see Ka making an awkward running landing back on the hilltop where Cato and the other village leaders were discussing about where to go. And no doubt keeping an eye on the zombies moving behind them.

She wished she could be there, talking with the big men and women making the decisions of their fate. The boy had somehow become trusted by Banage and Ka in such a short time. Danine wished she knew how he did that.

A few short moments later, with much loud talking and waving of arms, Kee started his run to take off. Two Char clan hunters were there to help push him along to get enough speed.

If she had come from Earth, she would have known how much that looked like ancient airplanes taking off. But she wasn't and all she thought of it was how nice and windy it must be to fly in the sky.