The sun crept over the horizon on the third day of our trip from Atal (The city) and Atal (The man) was acting more and more anxious by the mile. It was hard to see, stoic as he tended to be, but he was always calling for scouts to check this or that, always making sure our watchmen were on point. I was glad for that, as it showed he knew to expect issues, but it was also tiring even for myself, who wasn't on watch.

We were still far from the furthest edges of the territory, but were moving fast. Normally one would expect that a group would move far slower than an individual might, but in this case it wasn't so. There was little in the way of luggage and the fact that experts were with us who knew the land like the backs of their hands meant that we never got lost and almost always took the best of trails.

Twice on this trip we'd stopped by villages, but there was nothing of note there with them except the way that they dealt with us. Normally it was the village's Elder who was the most respected, who demanded what they wanted and was given it, but Atal was with us, as were some of his subordinates, and that changed the equation. Both Elders had come out to greet us, speaking humbly and offering anything we might need or want. Our leader though had waved them off, happy to get the information he wanted and keep going.

The information was... not good. While nobody had spotted enemies in this area yet, there were a few, and only a few, refugees coming from further East. One up note at least was that it looked like they weren't killing everyone in the villages they were attacking, just most of the older and stronger people. They were destroying those that might be a threat.

Around noon we crested a small rise and looked down towards a new village. In an instant I could tell something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I looked and looked but nothing sprang out as the issue. Fortunately others were with me, and they too sensed the wrongness, and within seconds the alarm had been sent all through our war party. We had over a hundred elves ready to fight in an instant, all turning their eyes towards the settlement.

Almost like a bolt of lightning it hit me, there was no movement, none at all. Even as I looked at the houses I saw more and more that was wrong. There was no smoke, no cooking fires, no gathering parties out and about, in a few places the shade of the leaves was even different, like they'd just repaired things recently.

It was as these flaws registered that the first attack began. A dozen or more spears arced towards the center of our line, their image barely a blur as they screamed out from the forest. I would like to say that I was ready, throwing up shields and stopping the attack, but I wasn't. I wasn't a soldier, I wasn't trained or prepared for that first attack, and it might have killed me.

Those around me were though, without a delay spells sprang into place and projectiles were knocked from the air. Atal, who'd been the primary target was barely able to be followed as he struck out, ripping the teeth from the assault. Our enemy might have come to fight, but so had we.

“Fire!” a nearby man screamed, pointing, and this time I was ready.

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I snapped a barrier up upon which splashed a wave of burning heat, exploding well before it got to our lines. Fire was one of my go to spells and dealing with it was as easy as pie. I even had time to issue a response in the form of a blade of force, shooting forward in a killing line.

The assault came hard and fast, the enemy's back-line hurtling spears and large spells while their front-line charged, spells flying. There were so many, so many casters, and as I looked I realized why. Each of the front-liners moving in our direction had the same kind of aura, one ran through with burning veins, they were spending their lives to kill us.

A skilled military historian from Earth might have been able to follow what happened, but I doubted anything in my previous world's history matched up quite to what we were seeing here. It was a chaos of magic and spears, steeped through with ancient weapons and tactics. Many of the fighters squared off in small groups, keeping no cohesive formation while others just rained down chaos on both sides.

While I and most of the soldiers were floundering, unable to process the difference in the fighting of men and monsters the center held. Enough of the older elves around our leader had seen combat like this and I had no doubt that the oldest was well versed himself. Enemies broke on them like water on the shore, thrown back with force.

There was no time to watch though, as I had to duck under a spear of energy thrown in my direction. Even as I dodged the man behind me didn't though, and I heard his scream of pain as it ripped a sizzling hole in him. There were no words, no speaking beyond screams of anger and pain.

One of their skirmishers crested our hill and started to fly upwards, hands covered in deadly looking power. With a flick I sent forth another blade slicing the appendages from him before he fell, not ten feet in front of us screaming. The scream was so... high pitched, that I couldn't resist looking.

At that moment I realized with horror that these weren't men we were fighting, they were boys. The one I'd just cut down couldn't be more than fifteen, if he was a day. It sent a chill down my spine as the blood flowed from his stumps and onto the ground, his life failing before me. There was no sense it that, to sacrifice the young like this? It was appalling, particularly towards a people who often viewed their children so protectively as we did.

While I'd killed one Atal was killing in droves. The spears I'd given him each turned into a line of death through the enemy formation, ripping and tearing and leaving little more than gore in their wake. Each stone from the ball thrower was like a cannon shot, leaving a crater and sending those around it to the ground as shrapnel ripped into them. The enemy force was smaller than ours, and they'd greatly underestimated us.

In less than a minute we'd advanced back towards them, pushing their line back as the child skirmishers fell in droves and their back-line cracked under the weight of the older elves' assault. As we did I made it to the boy I'd cut down where he lay crying on the ground. He'd managed to burn the stumps closed, stopping the flowing of his lifeblood onto the dirt, but he was still fading fast.

“Why?” I asked him, not bothering to keep the pain from my voice.

“They have my mom, my sisters,” he wept. “Said if I didn't they'd...” The last was drowned out by a groan of pain, but I could well guess.

All around me others of the surviving children began to immolate, exploding outwards like bombs.

“I'm sorry,” the boy said, and I felt magic grip my body so I couldn't flee. “I have to.” I could feel the heat building, growing into a small bomb.

“Me too,” I replied, before sending an arrow of force into his skull, killing him neigh instantly. “Sleep child, I hope you find peace.”

As I looked up I saw the back-line of the enemy force coalesce around a single point and begin pushing forwards. It seemed the monsters we were after had finally decided to meet us head on. Spells were exchanged but soon they drew close enough that I could see their leader, and I was flabbergasted.

The girl they were all moving around had ice cold eyes and a sneer of anger as she advanced lips and body moving in some sort of song and dance that sent waves of power outwards. A few of the men were singing too, though there was enough difference in dialect that it was hard to understand their words. The intent though was clear, this was a song of war.

Before long their dancing general had made her way to the front. Her dress was brief, far briefer than most of our people wore, and her hair was white, all except a single streak of red that hung down by her face. It was odd, seeing such a beauty exuding such hate, but she did, and she was coming.