“Take the commander,” Judas urged over the chaos of the battle. Spells flew as swords hacked away in a spray of blood. The gore of war gushed out like a mist, peppering their faces. War always started small, the carnage before him a taste of what was to come.

Judas leapt over a fallen troll, calling the troll’s sword to his hand with a flicker of magic. The sword was unwieldy, alien, and it had been years since he last held one. The blade was heavy and strange in the cradle of his palm. A paw shot out, snatching him by his arm. Instinct drove the steel through flesh and bone. He didn’t need a sword as long as he had his wand, but two weapons were better than one.

He ran to the nearest troll overpowering his comrades and lashed out, ending the momentary struggle. A flash of metal slashed through his vision, catching an incoming blade. A right cross rocked the troll’s head back, a reprieve allowing Judas a chance to run steel through the torso. Shaking off the dying warrior, Judas scanned for the commander in time to see T’son advancing on him.

T’son sprinted up the hill, throwing his weight into every troll he caught off guard. Each collapsed, stumbled, or rolled down the hill. Reaching the summit, he pressed his relentless attack.

T’son swung overhead, throwing all weight and strength into the blow. The leader blocked and countered, pushing the crossed blades back the way they came. Off balance, T’son stumbled, an opening capitalized with a side-step to the left and a thrust. The blade burrowed to the hilt in T’son’s stomach.

“No!” Judas yelled.

T’son’s eyes widened in shock. Blood and innards emerged, a face of glowering satisfaction loomed near him. Knees trembled, his strength ebbing.

“Good day to die, isn’t it?” Oauk taunted.

“For both of us,” T’son answered with all the hate he could muster. With renewed strength and arching steel, the troll’s head toppled to the ground.

With the blade still inside him, he gazed out over the carnage. Through the blood bath below, he glimpsed his friend rushing to his side. T’son collapsed in a heap, the sword driving deeper as he doubled over. All noises of the battle faded, his distant gaze tracking his friend, fading from sight.

The fight raged on.

----------------------------------------

Judas waded through the bodies, checking for wounded and lending his meager healing skills. The citizens of Wizard’s Pass fought gallantly against the overwhelming legion. In the end, they managed to drive off the last remains, the battle turning with the loss of their commander, but the citizens took heavy losses, both in casualties and the village itself. Most of it burned to the ground, hardening the resolve of the survivors.

Blood soaked the ground and pooled in other places. Bodies and limbs lay strewn; Judas hoped for more survivors after each body he passed.

Such a tragedy, Judas thought, all this loss of life for the fall of an out-of-the-way village. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible. Did Xilor track me here?

It was the only explanation that made sense at the moment. Wizard’s Pass offered no strategic value; the only other alternative intent was to break morale. The mind game had started, with Xilor as the master puppeteer. By the time he trampled his way over a sea of bodies and reached Ralloc, Judas envisioned them laying down arms almost willingly. The defeat here molded a detrimental future.

The children returned in droves from the river as the remaining trolls retreated. Only their dead and the destruction they wrought was left in the wake of their departure.

A passionate anger burned in Judas. All this death, sanctioned by orders from a master they’d never see.

Pawns are such, he mused. Move this piece against that. If you lose, no damage to you; if you win, the more power you accumulate. That was the way of tyrants, and Xilor’s the biggest of them.

Judas stopped suddenly, finding the corpse of his friend he lost today. He’d fought bravely to the end and beyond.

Judas sensed a stir beside him. “Did he fight courageously?” a woman spoke.

“Yes, it was magnificently displayed dedication … honor … desire,” Judas said, tears formed in his eyes.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“How long did you know each other?” the other queried.

“Around the time of the First Wizard’s War, maybe sometime after, it’s all a blur. I sometimes find myself wondering, where did all the time go?” Judas spoke more to himself than the woman. “Do you know what he said?” he asked. The warlock trembled with sorrow. “I wasn’t there for him in the end.”

Silence followed as Judas wept with grief.

“I’ll regret my failure for the rest of my life, but I don’t think I can bear to hear his last words. I’m the recipient of many last words in my time. It’s funny and tragic the places your mind takes you while approaching death’s door.”

“How long since you two saw each other last?”

“About two ages, a long time when you are going through it, a short time when you reflect. Cherish the moments you gain.”

“I will,” she said, her voice stoic.

Judas spoke up after a brief moment of silence. “This is such a mess, and it’ll only get worse as time goes on!” He looked out over the toll of bodies.

“There were so many deaths—and the violence?—how can anyone choose to go to war?”

The words angered him, but his gaze lingered on his lifeless friend. “You better get used to seeing it,” he said sternly. His brows frowned. “More is coming and soon. Day and night will stand maddeningly still. Blood will soak the ground, polluting our water. People will die, and fire will fall from the sky. Turmoil, hate, death: that’s our future, one not for the weak.” He knelt and closed T’son eyes, and grief took him once again.

“I’m sorry, Judas,” she said. The warlock whirled, glimpsing the fading image of his lost apprentice, and in its place, a woman he knew well, appeared.

“I came as quickly as I could, Judas.” Meristal wrapped her arms around him, her hair of orange flame tickling his nose. She smelled of sweet vanilla and a mild flowery scent. “What happened here?”

“A troll invasion. The few people you see are the survivors.”

“And your apprentice, what of her?” she asked, glancing around anxiously.

He looked at her, and a solemn expression crossed his face. “Julie’s gone.”

“She perished?” Meristal gasped in shock. Her hand came to her mouth.

“No, no,” Judas was quick to assure her. “During the night, while we were in the swamplands, she took off. She’s with the fairies now, or they’re with her.”

“What can they possibly teach her? They don’t have the level of magic that she does. Why didn’t you go after her?”

“They’re not teaching her magic, but about the realm, and I’m unsure about that. I didn’t ask for their planned academics. The fairy warned me that they’d hide her from me if I pursued, so I didn’t.”

“Why would they waste their time with those trivialities?”

Judas didn’t respond. His eyes swept over the carnage. They could remove the bodies, but blood would stain the earth for a time.

“Why?” Meristal pressed.

“Because they believe in their prophecy, and they may be right.”

“Since when do you believed in prophecies, fates, and destinies, Judas?”

“The moment I reached out to find her. She’s too far away for you to do the same, but what I felt was incredible.”

Meristal took his acknowledgment in stride, knowing she’d never change his mind once set. “What about the trolls who attacked? Where did they go?”

“They’ve retreated, but I fear that another attack is coming soon.”

“Here?” she inquired, skeptical. He shook his head in response. “Then, where?”

“The only probable place, Meristal: Far Point.”

“Well, we have to warn them. I can teleport there and—”

“No need, I already tried. A powerful spell is blocking me, and I can’t get within two days walk of the city.”

“Well, we could Psimond them then, some warning!”

“I tried that as well. Only one being is powerful enough to block me: Xilor.”

“Probably,” she conceded, her lips puckered, biting back more words. “Perhaps it’s the xicx that are doing the spells. Why Far Point? There’s nothing of strategic value.”

“No, the xicx aren’t powerful enough to stop me, and as for Far Point, I’m at a loss.”

“How’s it possible that he escaped?”

“It’d always be a matter of time. Nothing is truly escape-proof. What about you, Madam Raviils? Where are you going now to deliver the news of this battle?”

“I’m off to negotiate with the elyves,” Meristal replied after a moment of consideration. “Once finished, I’ll return to Ralloc, though I’d rather be here with you.”

“Very well, best if you don’t stay, at least not at the moment. You have more pressing matters to attend. Tell the council that the war has started. Refugees of Wizard’s Pass will be coming to Ralloc, Dlad City, or some other city along the way. Best that they have some warning and prepare.”

“I’ll do as you ask, but I don’t know if they’ll listen.”

“Make them listen.”

“Be careful, Judas. Try to stay in one piece for me.”

“And you, my dear, fly like the wind, and may Goushuul speed your journey.”

Meristal gave him a quizzical look, but held back. The two locked gazes for a moment, speaking with their eyes what their mouths would not, and then Meristal flickered as she teleported away, leaving Judas with his grief and the duty of organizing a mass evacuation to Ralloc.