I have done it. I have built the ultimate assassin. Now is the time to show the warlocks the foolishness of coming against me. I have turned humanity’s filth into the greatest warriors ever known, using prisoners taken from the dungeon, volunteers and dozens of other dregs of humanity. I have changed them into something greater. With them I will crush the warlocks, crush anyone who dares to oppose me and bring upon a new age. “Let there be death and destruction upon my enemies!!!”

Journal Entry 5: Project Salvation, written by Lady Kora of House Firm Arm

A brand new day dawned, the strange rain from last night dribbling to a halt, leaving the earth coated in a thin layer of blood. The sun that had hidden behind the red clouds came alive once more, delivering light and intense heat to the world again.

Daok, having lain awake all night, planning in his mind how to defeat his enemy, stood atop an ample flat hilltop surrounded by messengers in green uniform, ready to relay his words, and wondered if victory was even possible. He had never commanded an army as large as this. He had never faced an enemy such as this, and for the first time in years he was afraid. He gazed down at his gauntleted hands, flexed his fingers to test the joints. Stood straighter, and shook aside his worry.

Breathing in the toxic air that had come from last night’s rain, he surveyed his preparations for the upcoming battle. Below him, advancing into positions to the left, right and centre of the hilltop were the divisions of his army. To Daok's left were the Stone Hearts, a division of troops solely made up of criminals who were given a second chance to redeem themselves in battle. Anchored to the right of the Stone Hearts were the Blood Shields, known for their distinctive square red shields. At his centre were the Troll’s Bane, a veteran infantry force that had fought during the Arcane War. To either side of the Troll’s Bane fighters were the Bone Breakers and the Green Skins. The Bone Breakers were well known for recruiting extremely large men and being taught to wield large hammers, whereas the Green Skins were mostly made up of Orc mercenaries. Hence the name.

Lastly off to his right were the Death Bringers, an elite force of troops who preferred to paint their armour black. Next to the Death Bringers, nestled against the side of a steep mountain, were the newly formed Soul Crushers, an entire division of men recruited from the wealthy district in Mantoria, all eager to gain a reputation in the coming battle. Daok had thought about keeping them in reserve, to ensure they wouldn’t do anything foolish but had quickly dismissed the notion, as he needed veteran troops to be in his reserves; in case the line folded.

He had sent orders for the troop dispositions to be closely packed together to ensure they weren’t driven off the hilltop with force, and sheer weight of numbers. He also had additional forces guarding the flanks, in case the enemy tried to encircle him. His divisions were formed into seven tightly packed square formations of impenetrable Mantorian steel, with their standards fluttering behind them on poles. The Mythic Warriors division hung back from the main force to act as a reserve, as well as the Ground Pounders, both reserve forces equipped with magically enhanced swords.

Daok satisfied, his men wouldn't be easily brushed aside off the hilltop. Turned his attention towards the growing line of stakes being driven into the softened soil ahead of him. With the stern figure of Ancestor Hadlan in brightly polished armour supervising them. Hands behind his back, he paced along the line of men bellowing at them in his harsh,dry voice "HURRY, YOU SLIME LICKING WORMS" "GET THOSE STAKES INTO THE GROUND" "THE RIPPERS AREN'T GONNA WAIT FOR YOU FOOLS TO GET READY" "MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT" Daok watched with amusement as Hadlan catching sight of a man, resting on his haunches panting, rushed towards the man "JEKAL!! YOU DUMB PIECE OF FILTH, DID I SAY YOU COULD TAKE A BREAK?"

"NO SIR," panted the young soldier, while wiping sweat off his brow. Hadlan brought his reddened face close to the soldiers and growled "THEN GET BACK TO WORK, YOU STINKING SEWER DOG"

"YES, SIR" replied the young pale faced soldier and ran off back up the hill to collect more stakes from the wagon. Hadlan content, continued on down the line barking "YOU ARE GROUND POUNDERS, AND AS SUCH YOU ARE BETTER THAN ALL MEN"

"SO GET YOUR BACKSIDES MOVING AND SECURE THIS HILL FOR MANTORIAL AND FOR THE DESCENDANT" Huffing and puffing groups of men in plate armour struggled up the hill to the wagons filled with stakes. Shouldered three stakes and lurched back down the hill to the men eagerly digging holes in the soft, blood slick earth with shortened spades. Before slamming home the three foot long stake deep into the earth.

Further down the hill, crouching low on the hilltop, in two thin ranks of two, were Daok's small contingent of archers, a small force of five hundred troops, who wore light leather armour, with dark green tunics on top and the baggy green trousers of Mantorial. On each of their tunics proudly sewn onto their chests was the tree of Mantoria.

The archers carried short recurve bows made of Mantorian wood; from the forest. Flecked with grey and black specks that swirled up and down the bow in strange familiar patterns. Attached to their waists were two full quivers of fletched bone white arrows; taken from corpses of the dead. A deadly weapon invented during the Arcane War, when supplies were low, and the deceased were plentiful. Men had resorted to using the bones of their dead to make arrows, that not only had the ability to pierce steel, but was also extremely deadly to humans. These slim white slivers of bone, had killed thousands of men. A fact that often sickened Daok. Never-the-less he would need them today.

The archers, made up of young boys and girls aged sixteen to eighteen. Too young to serve in the ranks of the Mantorial military, would instead serve today as archers and messengers.

To anyone spying on their activities they would see thousands of men in shining plate armour waiting atop a large hill, standing on ground soaked red from the rain, with elder brothers walking amongst the ranks of the soldiers, joking and bragging with their comrades to set them at ease, while the grizzled veterans of the army calmly chewed on their salted dried pork. A couple of the men, unwilling to piss themselves in battle, took the time granted to them to pee in the nearby shrubbery.

Gazing at his men, Doak knew that it wouldn’t be enough, not near enough to stand against the thousands of humanoids coming. The numbers were just too far stacked against them, and even if they came out victorious, most of the men here would be dead. Every single plan, every single idea that popped into his head, invariably hit the same problem: numbers. Any tactic devised would only separate an already weak force. The only solution was to hold a strong defensive position, and hope the mother would protect them.

Shrugging uncomfortably at the negative thoughts, he saw a messenger running hard up the hill towards him. The young boy with fresh acne spots and bright blue eyes came to an abrupt halt in front of Daok, gasping, “Descendent, Ancestor Luk says to tell you all his troops are in position, and that his scouts, the few that made it back, report humanoids massing to meet us in the field.” Daok took one last look around at his defences, and nodded grimly. It would have to be enough. He shook the boy’s hand. “Well done, soldier, get some rest.” The boy smiled at the honour given him, and pounded his fists together in a salute before leaving.

Daok turned to the oldest of the messengers. “I want word sent to all Ancestors that the enemy are approaching; tell them to have their men ready.” The tall boy with black fuzz growing on his chin immediately assigned each member of the messengers to an Ancestor, then they scattered in all directions to deliver their messages.

In the distance a line of black specks appeared on the horizon. Unconsciously he held his breath, as the line boiled forward, increasing in number and size. More and more black specks materialised till the ground in the distance was carpeted with them. He saw no end to their numbers, spreading far and wide to either side. Gradually the horde of black specks grew larger and larger till he could make out thousands upon thousands of humanoids in pitch-black robes, wielding two short obsidian swords in each hand, speeding gracefully across the uneven land towards them.

Releasing a breath he had been holding in at the horrible sight, he took action, moving off the flat hilltop. He strode past the solid lines of waiting soldiers with their bare steel, who nodded their heads to him as he passed by. He heard quiet curses, and whispers of fear at the sight of the grand war host coming to meet them on the field. He would need to quench that fear soon, or panic would set in, and the battle would be lost. Reaching the front rank of the Mantorial army, he paced in front of the waiting army, till the whispers were quietened down by zealous elder brothers.

With all eyes on him, he spoke: “MEN AND WOMEN OF MANTORIAL, WE FACE OUR GREATEST CHALLENGE TODAY,” he bellowed in a ringing voice that echoed in the hills for all to hear. “WE FACE AN ENEMY, CRAFTED BY MAGIC TO BE THE GREATEST WARRIORS.” The men-at-arms shivered at the mention of magic, a few shifting their feet uncomfortably. “BUT IT WILL NOT MATTER,” he roared dismissively with a sniff of contempt, “FOR WE ARE A NATION OF WARRIORS.” The soldiers’ ears perked up. “AND ALL OF US ARE GREAT WARRIORS, AND WE LOVE A CHALLENGE,” bawled Daok at the top of his lungs. The army roared their approval, banging their swords against their shields in the time-honoured salute, deafening the land with its sound, the fear they felt at the oncoming tide of blackness fading away to a memory.

Daok lifted his sword into the air and pointed at the enemy. “LET THEM HEAR YOUR WAR CHANT,” cried Daok with a last flourish of his blade at the oncoming enemy. Ten thousand voices boomed from the hilltop, singing their ancient battle chant. “MY ARMS ARE STRONG, I WILL DEFEND MY LAND, MY LEGS ARE FAST, I WILL NEVER BE LATE, MY LIPS SPEAK TRUTH TO HIGH AND LOW, MY EYES, I WILL USE TO HUNT MY FOES, MY HEART, WILL KNOW WHAT IS RIGHT AND WRONG, AND MY MIND, WILL GUIDE MY PATH TO LIGHT.” Their voices shook the land with its raw power and intensity. Daok smiled with satisfaction,and knew they would hold today; no matter what happened they would hold.

***

Raid awoke from his half sleep on the itchy brown hay, scratching himself, then rubbed his eyes tiredly as the sun shone into them. The ominous red clouds from last night were gone from the sky, allowing the stable yard to be filled with the sun’s sweltering heat and light. Raid felt a wave of panic; was he too late?? Damn it, had he slept too long?? Why hadn’t anyone woken him up?? He leapt to his feet, collected the sword belt he had laid out beside him, and slipped the sword on around his waist.

The soldiers already up gave Raid a nod, and continued to munch on stale bread they had brought with them. Elder Brother Gastron, attired in his thoroughly polished steel plate armour, stepped over to Raid. “So you’re awake finally,” said Gastron in a cheerful voice that sounded strange coming from his emotionless face.

Raid saw that Trogon, Mira and Kara were up already as well, eating cheese and bread. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he exclaimed with a touch of petulance.

Gastron's black eyes glittered in the daylight. “Trogon tried a dozen times, but you were pretty deep asleep, must be used to sleeping in a cosy city,” replied Gastron seriously. Raid felt his cheeks blossom red with anger; was the man insulting him? He would have drawn his blade if he knew, but the man’s blank face gave away nothing. “Anyway we had best be moving on; we will leave the horses here as we are going to need a bit of stealth and you can eat your breakfast on the move, on account of you delaying us,” Gastron said with a finality that brooked no argument.

Raid nodded his head, and Gastron left to attend to his men. Raid quickly grabbed some pork from his saddle bag and a slice of bread then went to join his companions waiting for him outside the stable yard. Upon seeing the fortress courtyard again, where the carved face of the wise hung, he felt a pang of regret at the opportunity missed to explore these ruins. Hopefully on his way back he would see this place again. If he returned, he thought ruefully.

Trogon came up alongside him. “Off to another fight,” said Trogon merrily.

Raid smirked at Trogon’s anticipation. “Haven’t you seen enough?” asked Raid.

Trogon shook his bald head. “If there’s one thing my mother taught me, is that battle is the only place in the world where you can truly test yourself.”

Mira, overhearing Trogon, snapped angrily at him. “That is utterly ridiculous, Trogon; surely you don’t believe that rubbish?” Trogon shrugged his oversized shoulders, not really sure how to respond without getting a another tongue lashing.

Gastron took charge. “Raid, you and Trogon will be at the front, scouting out a path for us; Mira and Kara you’re in the centre; and the rest of you lazy sods, guard these ladies with your lives,” he snapped. “Let’s move, we have wasted enough time,” his last words directed at Raid meaningfully. Raid snarled at the unspoken accusation, but held his anger in check.

Trogon and Raid led the way out of the fortress, with Gastron and his men guarding the women in a circle of steel. They marched south-east, moving at a fast clip across the sodden earth that was still wet, and sticky from last night’s abnormal bloodbath. Raid and Trogon stayed two miles ahead of the main party, making sure they weren’t too close, so the men behind them would have time to react to any approaching danger and not too far ahead that they wouldn’t receive help when they needed it. They journeyed through a series of small hillocks that were bunched tightly together, with enormous boulders strewn all across the desolate hills. Black carrion birds wheeled in the air above them seeking fresh meat, the smell of desiccation thick upon the breeze.

Raid, chewing on the piece of salted pork he had grabbed, was the first to spot the dirt track ahead. Holding up a hand for Trogon to stop, he went forward alone towards the dirt track to make sure it wasn’t a trap. He studied the dirt track for signs of humanoid footprints, and saw a series of scuff marks on the track: recent, too. He glanced around to make sure they weren’t nearby, waiting to ambush. To the right of the track was a meadow, its lush green grass replaced with drab brown, with spots of red splashed on them. Gesturing for Trogon to come forward, he waited till his friend was standing beside him before guiding Trogon’s eyes to the many scuff marks on the path.

“I am pretty sure this path runs to Fontrel, and these marks on the path look fresh.”

Trogon stared pensively at the scuff marks on the soil. “How many?”

Raid knelt on his knee, and scrutinised the path. After a moment he said, “I would say around twenty or more.”

Trogon scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Should we let Gastron know?”

Raid nodded his head, concurring. “We are not far from the town, it might be best if we’re all together”. Raid and Trogon waited for Gastron and his men to catch up with Kara and Mira in tow. It wasn’t long before the party appeared with Gastron leading the way, his right hand caressing his sword hilt and his left clasping his kite shield.

Gastron strode over to them, his plate armour creaking with each step. “Problem?” he asked.

Raid nodded his head. “At least twenty humanoids ahead blocking the way to Fontrel.”

Gastron, as per usual, displayed no emotion, no fear, no hate, nothing. “Is this the fastest route to town?” enquired Gastron.

“Yes, although we could try crossing the meadow, and try swinging around them to the other side.”

Gastron’s black eyes bored into Raid’s. Then he said in a firm voice, “No,” and looked at his men standing around. “Might be good for my men to get some practice fighting these beasts, before we head into town to face however many there are in there.” Raid quirked his eyebrows up at that “Get some practice” and he muttered incredulously.

After thinking on it, he realised the suggestion wasn’t that foolish. Might be good to see how well these men fight; after all, he was going to have to trust them to watch his back. Gastron, seeing that Raid wasn’t going to argue with the suggestion, said, “Trogon also mentioned to me, while you were taking a good long nap, that you killed dozens of these creatures; now, if you could give my men advice on how to handle them …” Raid’s eye twitched at the backhanded compliment, but readily agreed. Gastron spun on his heels to face his men bunched up around the women. “Soldiers of Mantorial, it seems we are going to have ourselves a little skirmish with two dozen humanoids.” The soldiers stiffened at the mention of fighting the creatures that had killed their friends, their eyes hardening. “Good, I see you are all keen on revenge,” said Gastron with satisfaction.

He slapped Raid on the shoulder with his steel-plated gauntlet, rattling Raid’s light chainmail at the contact. “Raid here apparently has killed hundreds of the filthy creatures, and is willing to spare you some advice.” Was the man mocking him again? thought Raid angrily and swung his head around to glower at Gastron. “Well,” said Gastron, ignoring Raid’s glare, “speak”.

Wishing he could read minds, he faced the five waiting men. “As you probably know, these creatures are tough to kill; with increased strength, speed and eyesight they are quite the opponent,” proclaimed Raid in a conversational tone. “Ideally I would advise you to stay together and use your shields to wall them out, but with the numbers we might be facing today you will need to know how to deal with them one on one as well.” Raid waved Trogon to come closer.

“The quickest way to end a fight with a humanoid is to anticipate them, know that no matter how fast your first blow is that it won’t touch them; their speed will guarantee that you will miss your first strike every time.” He turned to Trogon and drew his sword. Trogon, realising he was to be part of the demonstration, pulled his large gleaming axe from the loop on his back and readied himself. “Your best opportunity for a kill is to feint a first attack, like so,” and whipped his sword in a blur towards Trogon’s face. Trogon swiftly adjusted his footing and raised his axe head to meet the sword, but Raid stopped the blow inches away from his face and curved the blade downwards to slap Trogon on his chiselled stomach with the flat of his blade. Trogon winced at the blow and bowed his head in defeat.

Raid finished by saying, “If you know your first strike won’t work, you create an opportunity for your second strike to make contact.” The soldiers’ eyes shone with awe at Raid’s prowess and slapped their fists against their shields to honour him for this exhibition. Gastron seemed quite surprised as well, his eyes widening slightly, and after a moment he too lightly rapped his shield in respect. Raid’s face reddened with embarrassment; he was never going to get used to seeing his countrymen saluting him.

***

An ocean of black-robed figures ran towards the waiting battle lines of Mantorial. Daok grimly watched as the wave of humanoids crested the hill, screaming in their unusual tongue, the gap between his men and the humanoid forces closing rapidly. He roared to the thin line of archers standing in front of wooden stakes, “ARCHERS DRAW BOWS.” The young men and women of Mantorial nocked their arrows and drew their strings back to their cheeks.

The humanoids drew closer and closer till he could distinguish features on their faces; instinct told him it was time. “RELEASE.” A volley of arrows fired directly into the oncoming rush of enemies, killing or maiming many of those in the front rank, causing a pileup as humanoids tripped and tumbled over each other. The humanoids screeched their rage and continued their charge up the hill. Archers drew their bows back once more and released another volley into the mass of humanoids, causing further injuries and death to the leading humanoids.

With the humanoids getting too close to his vulnerable archers he bellowed, “ARCHERS FALL BACK, BEHIND BATTLELINES.” The archers, comprehending the danger they were in, quickly weaved their way past the line of stakes and through the openings in the infantry lines the soldiers had opened up for them. Daok, seeing no messenger nearby, grabbed the nearest soldier by the arm. “Tell the archers to take up position on the hilltop and rain down death in the midst of the enemy.” The soldier slapped fist to shield and went to do as commanded.

Daok took up the position the soldier had vacated in the battle line, between two sturdy, well-built soldiers who grinned cheerfully at him. “You joining us, Descendent?” asked the scarred soldier on his left with a smirk.

Daok replied curtly, “Have to, don’t I? Need to show you how to fight.” The men around Daok laughed with merriment at the jest. Daok turned his attention back to the mass of humanoids that were beginning to reach the stakes.

Taking a breath he screamed at the top of his lungs, “SIGNAL THE ADVANCE.” Trumpeters at the rear of the army, hearing the command, blared into action, blowing once for the ready advance. Shields all along the front lines of the army dropped into defensive postures and locked shields together to create a wall of steel bristling with blades poking out. The trumpets then blew twice to signal the advance, which was followed by the sound of a dozen drummer boys pounding their drums vigorously. The army as one entity trod forward to the beat of drums that were booming from the hilltop, down the hill to the sea of black-robed humanoids. Heart pumping with adrenaline at the anticipation of battle, Daok opened up his lungs to bawl the war chant of Manotorial over and over again.

Soon his voice was joined by the entire army chanting their warcry as they marched forward to do battle. The humanoids ahead of them slowed down to get past the stakes that blocked their path. Upon seeing the oncoming tide of grey steel advancing at a steady pace towards them, they screamed their hate and rage, leaping forward to attack them in clumps of ten, thirty and sixty between the stakes. A bare-chested humanoid, taller than the rest of its comrades, snarled at the humanoids to regroup and attack together, but the humanoids already racing ahead were too far gone with bloodthirst to listen.

The humanoids fought like wild animals, using their strength and speed to pummel their enemies, but since the creatures didn’t understand how to fight as a single force they got in each other’s way. The Mantorial army was easily able to deal with the trickle of humanoids that slipped past the stakes. The humanoid leaders, thinking quickly, sent humanoids to distract the main army that gradually advanced, and used their immense strength to begin pulling out the stakes from the ground, allowing the humanoid horde to spill forward together in a massive wave.

Bracing for the oncoming tide of yellow-eyed beasts the army held up their shields, the men in rear pushing their shields up into the spines of their comrades in front of them to steady them, just as the two battle lines thudded into each other with a thunderous crash, driving his men back.

Gritting his teeth, Daok pushed forward, supported by the men behind him and to the sides. Together they cleaved their way forward into the enemy, their steel cutting into their vulnerable flesh. Blades sped out from behind their shields to slice into the guts of the enemy, swords went up into the air to slash down hard and hammers smashed into their skulls. The ground before him was piling up with the enemy dead, all the while flight after flight of arrows were launched into the air, falling deep into enemy lines.

Panting for breath, Daok continued to cut, slash and shove his way forward into the mass of black-robed bodies. He drove his shield into the face of another wild-eyed humanoid, and moved in to finish it off, when he slipped on the intestines of a dead humanoid.

The fierce yellow-eyed humanoid, seeing an opening, came at him hard, slashing at him with a savagery he could not match. Driven back, he bumped against the shield of the warrior behind him. Using the shield to steady himself, he leapt forward, catching the humanoid by surprise, and shoved six inches of cold, hard steel into its chest. Its yellow eyes widened in shock,and dropped to the blood-drenched ground. Daok, with no time to enjoy the kill, quickly slammed his foot down onto the dead humanoid,and tugged his blade out of its limp corpse.

Immediately a second humanoid threw itself at him, attempting to get past his shield; he blocked reflexively and aimed a cut at its face. It dodged to the side only to be stabbed by the soldier beside him. Breathing hard at the exertion he puffed out “Thanks” to the soldier who nodded his head in acknowledgement. The drums beat louder, and the shield wall responded by pressing forward deeper into the press of black-robed bodies. Squished in from all sides, Daok was no longer able to swing his sword to hack at the enemy that pushed up against his shield attempting to cut at him. He kept his head down, and simply kept jabbing his blade out from behind his shield into their unarmoured bodies.

He gritted his teeth in pain, as he felt a sword hit him hard on the head. Ignored it, and kept stabbing, then pushing forward, stabbing, then pushing forward. It soon became a mantra in his mind; stab and push forward; stab and push forward; stab and push forward. Then like a dam bursting, the humanoids in front of him were falling back. Giving way. He stumbled forward, as the unexpected pressure was released, and saw to his delight the humanoids tripping over the holes where the stakes had been dug in. With a yell of triumph he rushed at the retreating enemy, and hacked away at them once more. Soon the slow retreat became a stampede, as the humanoids pushed and shoved each other to get away from the blood-encrusted swords of the remorseless enemy. Thousands died trying to make their way back.

***

On a smaller hill to the west Ancestor Asuha stood in a shield wall with her men, guarding the far western flank of the Mantorial army, the distant sound of the drumbeats goading her division of Death Bringers to press their attack into the thick crowd of black-robed enemies. Steel clashed against stone,and blades met soft flesh. Blood splashed onto the already drenched earth gathering into small pools of blood, as the two forces wrestled atop the small hilltop for the higher position.

Sweat trickled down from beneath Ancestor Asuha’s helmet to sting her eyes. Her arms ached with the strain from carrying her heavy kite shield, and swinging her sword. She tried to get moisture into her mouth by licking her lips, but her tongue was as dry as an empty well. Hands slick with sweat, she parried a powerful blow from a tall gangly humanoid, attempting to stab her with his twin black blades, the creature utilising its greater height launching downward stabs at her from above. Using the heel of her steel greaves, she stomped down onto the knee of the humanoid, shattering its bone with a loud crack. The humanoid shrieked with agony as it fell to the ground clutching its knees, the sound of its cries of pain silenced by a precise slice to the throat.

A voice barked into her ear from behind her. “Ancestor, there’s a scout wanting to speak with you.” She nodded her head and smashed her shield into the face of an overeager humanoid racing forward to take over the spot the dead humanoid had vacated at her feet, stunning the humanoid, giving her time to draw back from the fighting and allowing her men to fill in the gap she had left. With practised discipline her men opened up a narrow path for her to exit the close compact formation of the well-armoured ranks, then closed it shut as she passed through the ranks, the shields banging against neighbouring shields as the shield wall was reformed.

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The scout, a lean man of forty summers, stood on the peak of another smaller hill, away from the fighting. His flame-coloured eyes focused on the battlefield where his people fought for their lives to hold back the throng of humanoids surging against the shield wall, watching with keen interest as the Mantorial advance was slowly being ground down to a halt, as enemy numbers grew too great. He wished he was down there beside them in the thick of it, helping his brothers, but he was unlucky enough to be picked for scouting duty.

His focused attention on the battle was finally broken by the appearance of Ancestor Asuha breaking away from the heavy fighting, with a gash on her forehead, and her armour splattered with gore. She walked over to him briskly, eager to hear his urgent report. “Report, Soldier.” The scout lightly tapped his chest in a swift salute to honour her.

“Ancestor, a large group of humanoids are swinging around us in a wide encircling movement.”

Asuha stared at her scout with dismay and gazed at her men fighting for their lives below them and asked, “Does the Descendent know?” she enquired.

He nodded his head. “He is sending two companies from the Mythic Warriors division to shore up the lines of defence there; his orders are for you to deal with the threat,” he replied in a neutral tone.

Asuha grimaced; she disliked leaving her men, but orders were orders. “Very well, let Forbearer Flashio know he is in charge of the Death Bringers division while I am away.” Slapping arm to chest, he left to do as bidden.

Forbearer Gangan of the Mythic Warriors and Forbearer Hogran stood waiting in a muddy ditch to the north of the battlefield with two hundred well-armed soldiers sitting in a trench that stretched for miles to either side, probably made from a past battle. The soldiers, supervised by elder brothers, were grabbing a quick bite to eat and sharpening their swords. Most of the men were gazing to the south anxiously, where they could hear the distant sound of drum beats pounding, trumpets blaring and the clash of steel on steel.

Flocks of carrion birds wheeled around high above them, waiting for them to die, so they could commence their feeding. A disgusted Gangan wished he had a detachment of archers to get rid of them; the filthy creatures were depressing to look at. Preoccupied with the birds, he didn’t hear his companion speak. “What did you say?” questioned Gangan absentmindedly.

“I said, I don’t know why we’re waiting for an Ancestor to show up. I am telling you we can deal with these bastards ourselves,” complained Hogran, an obese warrior with wide shoulders who was no longer able to wear plate armour due to his weight, so instead was wearing a rusted heavy chainmail that hung down to his knees.

Gangan, a twenty-year veteran newly promoted to the rank of Forbearer, gritted his teeth to muffle a snarl at the man’s arrogance. How this fool was promoted to the rank of Forbearer he still didn’t know. The man was a drunkard and a gambler. The man should have died a long time ago because of his incompetence. His aged face creased in a scowl. “We follow orders, Hogran, and our orders are to wait for Ancestor Asuha to take command,” he replied with barely concealed irritation.

Hogran ignored Gangan’s reply, his attention focused upon the scraggly trees in the distance. “Look over there: humanoids,” declared Hogran, pointing to the thin line of trees he had been staring at. Gangan twisted his head to gaze at the few trees, when he felt something hard hit the back of his skull. Dizzy, he groped the air for something to stop his fall to the ground, his head throbbing. He tried to stand back up on his wobbly legs, when he felt a second blow crash against his skull. His head smacked solidly into the turf, his open mouth scraping against the ground. As the blackness came, he heard dully, “That will teach you to disrespect me,” from a voice somehow familiar.

Hogran dropped the stone he had used to knock out Gangan, and smiled with satisfaction. Finally free of that overcautious bastard, he strolled back to the waiting soldiers. “ELDER BROTHERS, GET THE MEN UP,” he bawled urgently. The twenty elder brothers of the Mythic Warriors leapt to their feet in an instant, barking commands for their troops to form up in orderly ranks.

Gangan’s second-in-command, Elder Brother Viken, a well-built man of twenty-two years, stomped over to Hogran. “Where is Forbearer Gangan?” questioned Viken with concern. Oh, how Hogran wished he could tell the idiot how he had beaten up that old pretentious fool.

Plastering on a false grimace of anguish, he replied, “Gangan was captured by the humanoids; if we are fast, we can catch up to them and put them to the sword.” Viken studied Hogran’s greasy white face, before nodding his head and rejoining his men who were forming up into two columns. Hogran smirked at the Elder Brother’s back then turned his attention to the south where the humanoid flanking force would be coming. “For you, Great Matriarch,” he whispered into the wind.

***

Ancestor Asuha, with a small escort of ten men led by Elder Brother Jorem, marched at a brisk clip to the north across the rugged terrain of Mantorial, their boots crunching on the slick brown grass that was coated with the filmy red substance that stunk of death and corruption. The soldiers, unused to the smell, tried to cover their mouths and nostrils with pieces of cloth torn from their jerkins. Asuha, protected on all four sides by armour-plated warriors, clattered along beside them, while trying to formulate a plan on how to deal with the flanking threat. Depending on how many humanoids had managed to slip behind the Mantorial battleline, she needed a plan that would not endanger the main army.

Rounding a small hillock, the troops escorting her halted suddenly, taking her by complete surprise, and causing her to bump into Jorem’s back. “Why have you stopped?” she enquired impatiently. Jorem swung around and snapped, “BREAK FORMATION AND FAN OUT.” The soldiers, without hesitation, split up, and spread out in all directions.

She was about to ask Jorem again what was going on when she saw a body ahead of her, in the armour of Mantorial, lying in a ditch. Four filthy black carrion birds were pecking at the unprotected cheeks of the soldier. Asuha, with Jorem's help, chased away the disgusting creatures away from the body, and knelt down on the ground to check on the man whose face was planted in the turf.

Jorem, with a heave, rolled the soldier onto his back, releasing a stream of dust from the armour and mouth of the warrior. She gasped with distaste at the wounds the carrion birds had inflicted on the poor man’s face. Asuha tugged off her steel-plated gauntlet and placed a finger on the soldier’s throat. The skin was warm to the touch and after a second she could feel a pulse.

“Ancestor, this man is a Forbearer; weren’t we supposed to meet up with two companies led by Forbearers?” questioned Jorem thoughtfully as he tapped on the soldier’s right pauldron where the engraved letter “F” was printed. Asuha pulled off her helmet and set it on the ground. “Guess we will have to ask him,” she said with a sigh and brushed her sweat-soaked hair out of her face. Jorem grunted in agreement and strode off to speak with his men on sentry duty, to see if they saw anything.

***

Acting Forbearer Viken cautiously surveyed the terrain about him; something was not right. Why were they walking into a ravine? And why would humanoids come this way? He could feel eyes watching him. Not liking this route at all, he raised his fist to halt the column of marching soldiers and bellowed, “SQUARE FORMATION, PREPARE FOR BATTLE.” Soldiers, sensing the danger they were in as well, immediately tugged off their shields from their backs, drew their blades and locked their shields together to form a four-sided wall of steel with Viken in the centre. He scanned the soldiers waiting pensively around him. Where was Hogran? His question was answered by a throng of humanoids spilling in from either side of the ravine blocking them in. “AMBUSH!!!”

***

A dazed Gangan recovered from his ordeal enough to tell her of Hogran’s betrayal. The men Jorem had set on sentry duty reported a deluge of footprints heading to the ravine. All Asuha could think of at that point was that place would be a perfect staging point for an ambush. Hoping to the heavens she was wrong, she ordered two of her men to aid Gangan, who was still weak from the blow to the head, with walking, and forged on ahead with the rest of her men towards the ravine, praying she wasn’t too late.

***

Two miles to the north-east of the ravine in a rocky clearing were four soldiers in full plate armour, debasing themselves inside a black patch of earth, formed into a perfect circle around them, their heads touching the blackened ground in deep bows of supplication. The westerly breeze that blew the dust and ashes into their faces shifted and a serene voice spoke to them, caressing their ears. “Well done, my children, well done.” Hogran, one of the four with his head bowed down to the earth, felt his pulse quicken at the sound of her warm voice that lit a flame in his heart. His weariness and exhaustion vanished at the sound of her soothing tone. All that remained from his frantic run to the east was sweat stains under his arms and grime on his rusty chainmail.

“Hogran, your plan to destroy the troops sent to block our flanking attack was delicious,” she said in a seductive voice that set Hogran’s heart fluttering like a bird. “Ongan, you did well in intercepting the herald from the witch council,” she said in an equally breathless voice that had Hogran burning with jealousy. “And my dear Faloni, your well-orchestrated attack on Fontrel was absolutely marvellous,” she said. Hogran groaned with despair at the realisation he had not done as much as the other two to further their cause. Shame filled him at his inability to please her. He gripped the obsidian amulet hanging around his neck, feeling unworthy and hopeless.

Suddenly the beautiful lilting voice changed, transforming into a jagged sword. “YOU, HOWEVER, XAZON, FAILED TO LEAVE THE COUNTRYSIDE OPEN TO ATTACK, AS YOU PROMISED.” Hogran grinned with delight at Xazon’s failure; at least not all had succeeded. “Please, Matriarch, I will do better,” pleaded a terrified Xazon, his red pupils widening with terror. She ignored his entreaty. “Failure must be punished,” she whispered. “Failure must be punished,” chanted Hogran; “Failure must be punished,” called Ongan; “Failure must be punished,” repeated Faloni. Xazon wailed like a newborn baby as he felt his skin crawling with thousands of tiny black insects, biting his flesh with tiny serrated teeth.

Hogran smiled and twisted his head to witness the panicked slaps of Xazon as he rolled around on the ground, howling with agony, blood dripping from tiny cuts on his face. “Remember this lesson well and continue your work,” said the woman’s voice. Hogran planted his head into the earth. “Your will Matriarch,” intoned Hogran. The breeze shifted once more and she was gone. Hogran nearly wept at the emptiness he felt in his chest at her disappearance, but knew the matriarch would not wish him to mope. There was work to be done.

***

Viken, bleeding from a wound in his sword arm, swore to the heavens he would pay Hogran back for his treachery. He and the other survivors of the first assault were in a square formation to block off attacks from any angle. Piled in front of them were thirty-eight lifeless corpses of his men, black daggers sticking out of their bodies. These humanoids smarter than their brethren preferred to kill at a distance, having learnt how fatal it was to attack a shield wall. At the end of both sides of the valley behind a host of rippers wielding hatchets were gigantic boulders the humanoids had sent tumbling off the cliffs from above to trap them in the ravine. With the exits sealed off there was no way out.

The leader of the humanoids, a tall statuesque warrior with pale red skin that was completely bare of any clothing, besides a black loincloth that was tied on around his waist, sat atop a boulder to Viken’s right. A feral grin splayed out on its blood red face, its long iron-grey hair blowing in the wind and its yellow eyes drinking in the sight of Viken’s men slowly being drained of hope. On his lap rested a large obsidian battle axe that he gently touched with loving strokes.

Viken clenched his fists in frustration at his inability to do anything. He knew that if he tried to make his way to the boulder and have his men climb up the humanoids would attack them and shred them to pieces. Yet if he waited, he would lose more men to those obsidian daggers that punched through armour like it was butter. Another thought that occurred to him was that the yellow-eyed bastard sitting on the boulder wanted him to climb over the boulder, making him think there were more yellow-eyed devils on the other side. With a snarl of vexation he cursed Hogran to a short and painful life.

Acting Forbearer Banlen, a grizzled veteran with a dozen battle scars criss crossing his wrinkled face, asked furtively, seeing Viken’s chagrined expression, “I’m guessing you don’t have a plan?” Viken shook his head sadly. “Ah well, you did your best, and this ain’t your fault,” Banlen said in a commiserating tone and patted Viken on the shoulder. “All we can do now, I suppose, is to die well,” said Banlen softly.

Viken dropped his head down as despair engulfed him. He would never see his beautiful wife, Kalen, or his three gorgeous children, Dan, Jane and Kag. Banlen tapped him lightly on the shoulder; he looked up at Banlen’s hideously scarred face with eyes filled with unshed tears. Banlen wordlessly nodded his head in the direction of the boulder to his left. Viken turned his head in the direction he was indicating and saw the boulder was rocking side to side. He felt his mouth go dry with disbelief. Was someone trying to move it? Were reinforcements here? The humanoids gathered around the boulder seemed to think so, with a large group of humanoids turning their backs on Viken’s men to stop anyone from rolling the boulder away.

Without thought for self-preservation he roared to his men sentenced to death by a traitor, “KILL THE UGLY BASTARDS,” and raised his blade in the air as he sprinted in his heavy armour towards the shaking boulder guarded by the black-clad humanoids carrying axes. The wind gusted past him for what he hoped was his salvation. A voice roared behind him: “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, LADIES, MOVE IT,” screamed Banlen, who recognised this was their only chance to get out of this death-trap. He pushed and shoved bewildered soldiers who still didn’t realise what was happening. Then they too saw the boulder rocking from side to side, and with a yearning cry for freedom they chased after their acting commander. The leader of the humanoids, seeing the enemy rushing towards the boulder on the other side of the ravine, leapt gracefully off the boulder and screeched at his brethren to attack.

A revitalised Viken threw himself wholeheartedly at the enemy like a blood-crazed maniac, taking them by complete surprise at his ferocious assault. He savagely hammered his shield into the face of a humanoid, sending the creature tumbling backwards off its feet into its companions. He then viciously stabbed his blade into the gaping mouth of a humanoid, then tugged his blade out to let the humanoid choke to death on its own blood. Then he commenced frantically slashing away at them.

The humanoids, fearful of the lone warrior’s bizarre attack, sprang to either side of the lone warrior to cut him down. Viken howled in response, sweeping his sword side to side in wide arcs to clip the few too slow to move. The surviving Mythic warriors, seeing their officer fight like a lunatic, felt their chests swell with pride and whooping loudly they descended upon the humanoids like an avalanche, tearing into them with wild abandon, their steel blades cleaving into their unprotected flesh.

The humanoids, having never met humans who fight like beasts, turned to flee this dangerous foe, but since they were boxed in with the boulder on one side and the demonic warriors on the other side, the fight soon turned into a massacre. Panting for breath, Viken smiled with satisfaction at the stack of black-robed corpses congealing in their blood. With this group of humanoids dealt with, Viken turned around and licked the tip of his blade, enjoying the bitter taste of blood and cold steel. He then raised his blood-coated blade in the air and cried out his victory. Banlen laughed with relief and stabbed the air with his blade.

***

Drashan, leader of the Axe Caste, stopped dead in his tracks, the eager humanoids waiting behind him with axes at their sides. Drashan stared with fascination at the warriors at the other side of the valley coated in blood, howling at the sky and waving their swords. How was that possible? His warriors were superior to them in every way and yet his fighters were dead at their feet and his trap was broken. He lifted his large sharp battle axe to order his remaining forces to attack, when the boulder behind the human scum was jerked out of the way. With a snarl of anger, he swung on his heels and raced back the way he had come. His warriors, startled by the sudden change after a few seconds contemplating their enemies, turned to flee as well. There would be other battles, thought Drashan, and he would have his victory eventually.

***

Asuha, with a last heave alongside her men, pulled the boulder back. Opening a gap for her men to enter, she unslung her shield and drew her sword. Her men streamed into the opening they had made for themselves ahead of Asuha. She walked in behind her escort of soldiers and gasped with amazement at the view. Standing hip deep in dead humanoids was a bloody Viken and Banlen surrounded by two companies of Mythic warriors grinning proudly. Gangan beside her laughed and released a whoop of joy at the sight of his men. Asuha’s mouth twitched into a grin, as she went to greet the victorious warriors.

Viken, holding his bandaged arm, and a weary Banlen moved to meet them. “How on earth did you survive this?” she asked.

Banlen gave a tired smile. “This young fool got it in his head to attack the group on this side on his own, so I decided to save him with a little help from the lads.” The men around him laughed and Viken gave an embarrassed shrug.

Asuha slapped Banlen and Viken on the shoulder. “Well done, well done, indeed, think the Descendent will want to promote you after that stunt, well done.”

Viken blushed at the compliment. “Time to move out, there is still a lot of fighting to be done.” The troops quickly formed into a column to leave this place of death.

***

Castrica of the fire caste watched with distaste as his warriors were sent reeling back from the onslaught, forcing them to break and run, to get away from them. And wondered where the humanoids he had sent to attack their rear were. He unconsciously rubbed the hole where his right eye used to be and screamed at his warriors to retreat. He would try a different tactic, and ordered his army to retreat off the hill and regroup in the distance, far away from their stinging arrows.

***

The soldiers, seeing the humanoids falling back, cheered deafeningly with relief at the ebbing tide of humanoids. Puffing hard, Daok said, “Well, that was fun.” The men around him laughed at the remark and began to slap each other on the backs, relieved to still be alive. Taking deep breaths at the reprieve afforded him by the enemy, Daok looked around to check on his men and had to swallow bile rising in his throat at the sight of hundreds upon hundreds of mutilated corpses stretching out to either side of the battlefield, made up mostly of humanoids and a few unlucky men who had their armour caved in or heads torn clean off.

Clenching his jaw he twisted his neck to look down the hill to where the humanoids were gathering for their next assault. And his mouth dropped open in horror. For assembling below him in front of the humanoids were a dozen giants, their red fur shining brightly in the sunlight and their gigantic mauls the size of tree trunks held in hands the size of shovels. The immense creatures were pushing their way through the mass of humanoids to the head of the war host. The sound of cheering soldiers soon faded away at the approach of these formidable giants lumbering forward, shaking the ground they moved on with each step, trailed by thousands of humanoids in pitch-black robes.

Holding in a groan of melancholy that filled him with despair at seeing the giants, he screamed, “FALL BACK TO THE HILL AND REFORM THE SHIELD WALL, FALL BACK TO THE HILL AND REFORM THE SHIELD WALL.” The trumpets blared, ordering the men back to their original position. Only after the trumpets blared six times, and the elder brothers began to chivvy the men into action, did the army begin to fall back to their original position, dazed. Watching the daunting approach of the bulky giants, Daok wondered how many of his men would survive this day.

***

Gastron broke the hunting party up into three units. Trogon, with two Mantorian soldiers, were to creep through the meadow to the right while Raid, followed by a pair of men in plate armour covered in mud, would move through interlocking hills to their left, leaving Mira and Kara with Gastron and the remaining brothers to be the bait for the trap they had set up. He tried to ignore the worry he felt at Mira being placed in danger, although she should be able to defend herself with magic. Yet for all that, his instinct told him that magic wasn’t invincible.

Slapping himself on the cheek to focus himself, he proceeded forward cautiously, when he saw a thick black column of smoke rising into the pink sky above, coming from the direction of the town. He cursed the witches inwardly again for creating such bloodthirsty curs and gritted his teeth. With a clear view of the path he waited, sweat beading on his brow. Finally his eyes caught sight of movement seven feet away. He was able to make out at least twenty humanoids patrolling the path to the town.

Their black cowls were thrown back to reveal their distorted red skin and glowing yellow bulbs. It wasn’t long before the humanoids with their keen eyesight caught sight of the four travellers on the path. They howled with hunger, drew their obsidian blades from the cases concealed in their robes and came at Gastron’s party. Biting his tongue, he waited for the signal to strike, watching as the humanoids loped forward to attack the small group. Mira stood in the middle of the path, her hands clasped together; she watched calmly as the humanoids streaked towards them. Her hands glowed a fiery blue, and let loose a blue fireball that burst forth from her fingertips to blow into the rushing humanoids.

With a deafening roar the fireball exploded with a blast of such force in the centre of the humanoids that it killed half a dozen of them outright and wounded them all pretty badly. Ears ringing from the explosion, Raid charged into the clearing followed by the two soldiers. He thrust his blade into the two humanoids who were attempting to rise to their feet and went to work on the single humanoid that hadn’t been injured in the blast.

His sword flicked in and out in a succession of blistering feints before cleaving the head off the humanoid with a powerful cut to the neck. The minor skirmish was over in seconds with Trogon carving up the last humanoid with a brutal chop to its legs, followed by a blow to the chest.

Raid twisted his head to check on Mira, but other than a few singes on her face and dress, she looked fine. “That was a fine piece of work; hope the town is that easy,” called out Trogon, his white shirt splattered with blood and a cheery grin on his face.

Raid shook his head. “There will be a witch there and if she can do what Mira just did …” He left the rest of the unspoken words hanging in the air, silencing Trogon and wiping the grin from his face.

“Let’s go, ladies, we have an appointment to keep,” snapped Gastron, who was wiping his blade clean on the robes of a dead humanoid.

***

The army of Mantorial trembled with terror at the giants’ approach, a few edging backwards from the giants that were pounding forward towards them, covering the ground quickly with their long strides. The ground quaked beneath them with each step the giants took. Daok, frozen, shuddered at the sight of the creatures’ gigantic mauls swinging at the side of the bestial giants. His brain frantically tried to calculate how much damage they would have upon his men.

The smell of piss and shit filled his nostrils as terrified men and women let go of their bowels in the face of this overwhelming threat. “We’re going to die!” spluttered a big soldier next to Daok, who began falling back, pushing soldiers aside to escape. “WE ARE GOING TO DIE,” he repeated loudly to everyone. His trance broken by the soldiers panicked cries, Daok remembered his duty and broke eye contact with the immense giants stomping up the hill.

Loathing the possibility of seeing his brave soldiers being killed by these gigantic beasts, he devised a plan to target this new threat, but he needed messengers. He also needed his men to stop gaping in horror at the dozen giants bulldozing towards them with strange black amulets hanging around their necks.

Eyes blazing with renewed determination, he leapt out of ranks of men to stand alone in front of them. In a voice of iron that demanded attention he cried out to his men, “STOP YOUR OGLING, SOLDIERS, THEY AREN’T THAT PRETTY.” His booming voice echoed in the hilltops. Laughter rippled along the lines of gaping soldiers. “SO LISTEN UP, THOSE UGLY BASTARDS WILL BE UP HERE ANY MOMENT NOW, SO I WANT THE FIRST TWO RANKS TO GRAB THOSE STAVES LYING ON THE GROUND IN FRONT OF THEM AND HAND THEM OFF TO THE THIRD AND FOURTH RANK.” Elder brothers among the ranks repeated Daok’s instructions to their units.

The two front ranks of the army swiftly broke ranks and charged down the hill to collect the discarded stakes, some having to dig underneath piles of humanoid corpses that littered the earth to collect their prize. Daok grabbed the arm of the well-built soldier whose face was still white with fear. “Tell the archers to target the faces of the giants, can you do that?” The soldier nodded his head numbly, and stumbled away.

Ignoring the incoming giants that were closing in rapidly, Daok slung his shield on his back, sheathed his bloodied sword and raced down the slope in his heavy plate armour to where the stakes were flung out upon the ground. Pushing aside corpses of humanoids with torn limbs, he picked up three unbroken stakes and lugged them back up the hill. All across the hilltop, men imitating the Descendent rushed forward to gather stakes, and race back up to the waiting battlelines urged on by overzealous elder brothers.

Seeing activity upon the hilltop the humanoid commanders larger in size to their shorter brothers shrieked for their humanoids to begin their second assault. The humanoid horde surged forward like a black swarm, bypassing the giants to scramble up the hill to put a stop to whatever the enemy were doing. Daok, breathing raggedly from the run, handed off the stakes he had gathered to three men in the third rank.

In a relatively short amount of time the majority of the third and some of the fourth rank were equipped with makeshift spears. Panting for breath from his jog uphill, he unslung his shield that he noticed now had a dent in it and drew his blade. The soldiers to his left and right closed the gaps and rebuilt the shield wall. Taking a deep breath, he waited till all his men were back into position, before roaring “SIGNAL THE ADVANCE.” The trumpets blared and the drums that had gone silent at the sight of the giants began to beat once more. The Mantorial army advanced into the field strewn with dead humanoids in ripped black robes, the war chant upon their lips and their flags blowing in the breeze.

The first humanoids to reach the crest of the hilltop threw themselves at the shield wall again, using their wickedly sharp blades to tear down shields, and thrust their blades with deadly precision into gaps in the armour. Daok blocked the slash of a wild-eyed humanoid that had torn off its robes in a blood-crazed frenzy to reveal its burnished red skin and threw itself at Daok, swinging its twin blades in a blur of movement that Daok was unable to anticipate. Daok raised his shield and prayed the kite shield could withstand the powerful blows the humanoid threw at him.

With a grunt, Daok felt his shield arm get dislocated. Wincing he instinctively dropped his shield, then realised his mistake and threw himself at the blood-crazy humanoid. Bang, bang, bang he felt three strikes hit him in the chest, as he collided into the humanoid. The humanoid tried to sidestep Daok’s tackle, but in the crush of humanoid bodies trying to push forward the wild-eyed humanoid was driven straight into Daok’s arms. They crashed into the earth together, Daok’s shoulder jarring into the ground, to pop back into place, the rough, woollen black robe scratching his face. The humanoid immediately wrapped its powerful body around Daok’s in a crushing hug. All the while the battle raged on above them, with humanoids stepping on them as they grappled in the muddy earth.

Wheezing for breath, he frantically searched blindly for a weapon on the ground with his fingers. At last he felt the cool touch of steel; he picked up the blade quickly with bruised fingers and rammed the large piece of steel into the ribs of the humanoid. Warm liquid gushed out of the humanoid's ribs onto Daok’s hands as the creature slowly stopped squeezing him. He tried to stand up, but was continually battered down by a host of eager humanoids.

He could hear men screaming and shouting. Then they came; the ground beneath him shivered and groaned. The humanoids surrounding Daok opened up a wide space, allowing Daok to get to his feet, only to see a towering giant smelling oddly of fish blow right past him and bash its way into the shield wall, its huge maul crushing hundreds of men with each swing, the maul tossing a few high into the air to smash into the ground. The great shield wall that had defeated thousands of enemies in the past was broken. The humanoids immediately took advantage of the gaps left by the giants to pour in behind them. The well-formed army disintegrated into groups of troops fighting desperately against both the assault of the giants and the vicious humanoids.

Arrows flitted into the face of the giant in front of Daok, ripping into its fleshy face and stabbing into its baby-sized eyes. The giant howled in agony as it blindly swung its club from side to side. Daok dropped to the ground to avoid the giant’s huge maul passing overhead, his armour clanging against the earth’s hardening surface in the process. Feeling the breeze on his nape, he scrambled to his feet and raced forward. Tears began to course down his cheeks at the vision of his men being cut asunder by mobs of black-robed savages swarming over them. With a cry of rage and anguish he struck at the giant’s heel, cleaving deep into the meaty tendon. The giant screamed with outrage and swung recklessly with its maul, killing more humanoids as well as soldiers with its powerful blows.

Daok, ignoring the swings of the giant's maul, sprinted over to the giant’s next foot and hacked away at it's heel. The giant, already stumbling backwards from losing feeling in its left foot, began to topple backwards. Realising the giant was about to fall he ducked in between it's legs, as the giant collapsed to the ground flattening hundreds of humanoids beneath it. The earth shook and dust blew up to touch his tear-stained cheeks, and knock him to the ground.

***

Raid and Trogon headed towards the smoke that wafted into the air ahead, Gastron trailing behind with the women and soldiers in mud-encrusted armour. Raid’s first sight of Fontrel sent chills down his spine.

Smoke rose from the town gates that appeared to be burnt and smashed in with a hammer. The moat encircling the town was overflowing with red liquid from last night’s weather. The collapsible bridge that was supposed to be lifted in times of war lay shattered in fragments, strewn all over the ground. Hundreds of wooden planks bridged the gap over the moat. On the stone walls of the town, dangling by their feet, were the inhabitants of the town. Men, women and children. Their throats had been slit open to spill their life blood in rivulets that flowed down the walls of the town.

Mira, seeing the dead bodies hanging on the walls, tried to cover Kara’s eyes from the awful sight, but it was too late. Kara took one look and was heaving up everything in her stomach on the ground. Gastron’s mask slipped and rage creased his wrinkled face. His black eyes burned with a heat hotter than a furnace. Trogon, the half titan, had never imagined seeing anything to crack him, but this, this was too much. Tears spilled from his grieving purple eyes at the children sprawled on the walls of the town like broken toys.

Raid knelt down on the grass, shaking with anger, sadness and guilt. He should have been faster. He should have saved them. Kneeling in the muddy earth he pleaded to the heavens, “Guide these people to the light,” and bowed his head to the earth. Trogon dropped to his knees beside him: “Guide these people to the light.” One by one they all knelt and pleaded to the greatest power, to give these people the rest they surely deserved. Determination strengthening his arms and legs, Raid stood up and together they strode to the open gates of Fontrel to end this nightmare.