When he first arrived, the Calishans numbered at least as many as Raynald had brought from Artarq. All of them were fresh and bore spears and shields with great fortitude. So much the better. They were fighting raishans, more raishans than William had ever seen before. They were crawling all over the walls like giant insects. He had seen them, but he'd been under Melchious' sway, so it was all a blur now. Still, more were coming out of the hills to join in, but the Calishan battleline was holding. Their long spears slew many as arrows were fired over the lines with expert finesse. William wondered if there were any Calishan immortals among them. It did not seem so.

Arrows filled the sky, blotting out the sun as they showered the monsters. There must have been other holy men at work as well because the bodies of the raishans were fading away. It left behind only the blood. It was a breathtaking spectacle, but William knew he didn't have time to watch it. It came back to him where he was and what he was doing.

Where was Felix? And Tanith and Kusher? And Rusara, was she hurt? He didn't see any of them around here, just unfamiliar satyrs and men.

Making his way quickly down the steps, he picked up the Axe of Fortenex and rushed to where he'd seen Rusara before. He found Raynald standing by her. The withered-armed man had his sword planted in the ground before him. He was surrounded by a breathtaking number of raishan corpses and breathing heavily. He took from this that the holy man was not in range of Kynn.

That meant that there would still be raishans regenerating in nests across Khasmir. William couldn't worry about this right now.

"Raynald!" he called. "Raynald is Rusara, alright?"

"She's had far worse than this, William," said Raynald. "I'm just glad you managed to throw the bastard out. We were worried that what he was saying was true."

"You knew?" asked William. "How?"

"Those runes Rusara put on your sword are designed to keep track of you," said Raynald. "The moment Rusara detected you were gone, she kept watching. That was why we knew Melchious was making his move, and we were able to fall back to Kynn."

Something hovered at the edge of William's memory. What was it?

"What about the Calishans?" asked William. "I didn't know they had agreed to anything."

"I sent the Calishan to tell them that if Baltoth didn't act now, the entire region would be overrun," said Raynald. "Massacre went with him for speed. We probably could have stopped this army alone, but I'd rather they and the Calishans tear each other to pieces."

"Are we going to sally forth?" asked William.

"No," said Raynald, sounding perplexed. "Why would we?"

"The Calishans are fighting the raishans," said William. "They saved us."

"Yes," said Raynald. "And if they aren't weakened fighting the raishans, they may decide to finish us off. Still, I suppose we can't let them be destroyed entirely. Watch Rusara; I'm going to check on their progress. If the Calishans start getting wiped out, we'll involve ourselves."

William didn't like this one bit. If an alliance had been made with the Calishans, it didn't seem right that they should at least try to help them. Still, it wasn't his decision to make. Then he looked at the men. Those that weren't screaming in agony from wounds were slumped against walls. Blood was everywhere, and healers were hurrying to and fro.

Raynald was bluffing, William realized. They were in no shape to help anyone, and Raynald didn't want to admit weakness. So, he was making up a paranoid story. William kneeled by Rusara and saw that she had a bloody bruise on her brow where he had hit her. Putting his hand to her head, he healed it as best he could.

Then, he began to walk among the wounded and heal them as well. For all the little good this would do. This took up his time for an hour as the battle raged. Eventually, he saw Tanith limping toward him. The blonde girl's leg had a bloody cut, and she supported herself on her shield. Her sword was broken at the hilt, held in one red-stained hand.

"William, is that you?" asked Tanith in a broken voice. She looked like she had been crying.

He quickly ran to her and healed her wounds. "Tanith, are you alright?"

"Kusher is dead," said Tanith. "A raishan cut off his arm from behind, and another tore out his throat. I tried to get to him, but by the time I did... there wasn't enough to bury. I couldn't even recognize him! There were too many corpses!" Choked laughter came to her, mixed with sobs.

Stolen story; please report.

Kusher dead. It hit like a thunderbolt. The satyr had not exactly been a close friend, but William had known him. He'd spoken with him many times. Kusher had saved his life several times. And William had brought these the monsters that killed him. No, no, he hadn't! That had been Melchious' fault, not his! He refused to accept responsibility for the actions of a demon! He wouldn't!

Tanith started to cry again, and he quickly hugged her. The sword fell from her hand, and she grasped him back, shaking visibly. Then William broke the embrace and gripped her by the shoulders.

"Tanith," said William, "it wasn't your fault. And we need to move now. Can you bring me to some more wounded? I might be able to save some people."

Tanith nodded. "Y-yes, I'll show you the way."

It was a miserable two hours that passed. The Calishans, as it turned out, did not need help. William set about healing the injured. When the ranks of Calishans grew tired, they withdrew and were replaced by fresh troops. They fought with discipline and skill, which William had never seen in a Harlenorian army.

During this time, William found himself healing Relg atop the eastern battlements. The satyr leader had lost several fingers in the battle. Though the stumps had been treated, the fingers would not return.

He looked very bitter as William tried to restore them.

"It's no good, you know," said Relg. "Injuries stay when they mean something beyond physical harm. And my brother is dead."

"He died well," said William. "In battle." It didn't make it any better.

"What does it matter how he died?" asked Relg in disgust. "He was torn to shreds, and now I'll never see him again. He was always pressing for war, seeking to prove himself. Well, he has, and now I've lost my right hand.

"Replacing him will be impossible. How am I to motivate the younger warriors now?"

William was not sure whether Relg was grieving for a brother or furious at the loss of a valuable war leader. He decided it was both. Ultimately, he could only restore one of the Chieftain's fingers.

As William continued his rounds, he had to conclude that Raynald's decision had been for the best. Nearly a fourth of the army that had first been assembled outside Kynn all that time ago was dead. More when one counted the reinforcements which had arrived in the following weeks. And of the survivors, there were many wounded.

They had been in no position to sally forth at all.

What made it worse was that the battle was still ongoing. From the high places of Kynn, one could see the Calishan army suffering grievous losses. They were fighting valiantly against impossible odds. In some ways, they were even more heroic. Some were facing these monstrosities with knives, their spears having broken.

William decided after he finished his rounds and approached Raynald. "Raynald, with your permission, I'd like to go to the Calishans and offer my healing services."

"Why?" asked Raynald. "They have healers of their own."

"As a sign of goodwill," said William.

"I have no goodwill for Calishans," said Raynald. "And you shouldn't either. The world would be better if they were all destroyed. Besides, they might take you hostage."

"Then you'll be able to spy on their encampment," said William. And then he stopped as he remembered something. "Melchious knew."

"What?" said Raynald.

"Melchious saw the runes on my sword," said William. "He knew he was being spied on. He counted on it. He wanted us all to be here. Why?"

"Who knows?" asked Raynald. "Melchious likes mass bloodshed. It's the only thing he and I have in common. No doubt he wanted a final bloody battle to conclude things on."

William looked out over the field of blood. And then he realized that the blood was disappearing. It faded away from the ground like water falling into the sand. Why?

"Raynald," said William, "what do you know about the Axe of Fortenex?"

"William, I don't care about barbarian gods," said Raynald. "Let alone barbarian demons. Why does it matter?"

"I'm thinking," said William, unslinging the axe. The Axe of Fortenex was glowing red. Around it, red beams of light were surging into it, only enhancing its glow. Looking at it made William want to cleave someone's skull in. Perhaps Raynald's, he'd been acting far too confident for someone who had almost lost. How William would like to see the blood-

He shook his head and averted his eyes. The murderous thoughts fell away. "Rusara taught me that it was fueled by blood, growing more powerful the more death surrounded it."

"Well, that explains it," said Raynald. "Melchious wanted to gain ultimate power by killing a great many people. Melchious is banished, his army is dead, and we can use the axe instead.

"At this moment, Rusara reappeared. She was clutching her head, somewhat spoiling the entrance. "That would not be wise."

"Rusara, glad to see you're up," said Raynald, sounding slightly annoyed and relieved.

"Are you alright?" asked William. "Did I hurt you?"

"Melchious failed to do any lasting harm, thanks to you," said Rusara. "William, I feel I need to apologize."

"Apologize?" asked William. "For what?"

"I was genuinely trying to kill you," explained Rusara. "It never even occurred to me that you might have been able to break free of Melchious' control as you did. Really, it would have been a mercy to die. If he'd controlled you for any length of time, he would have gradually overwritten your soul. He would have changed you until your soul was little more than a vessel for his dark will.

"I'd have done the same thing again, to be honest. There is no possible way you could have had the willpower to throw out Melchious on your own. He had help. Or perhaps he was distracted.

"This bears further thought."

"Rusara, I'm not sure you understand how an apology works," said Raynald in amusement.

"It's alright, Raynald, I forgive her," said William, not wanting to deal with the prospect of Russia as an enemy. "What are we going to do with the axe?"

"Well, we can hardly destroy it," said Rusara. "It is infused with the will of Fortenex himself and so is quite unbreakable. Worse still, the cursed thing has absorbed the life force of every creature that was killed in this war. I expect we'd all die if you hadn't restrained Melchious from acting on his bloodthirst."

"I would have killed him," said Raynald.

"Of course, you would have Raynald. After he had killed the entire army and dealt you a mortal blow," said Rusara. "So we'd all be dead. Give me that damned axe, William. I'll see about containing its murderous aura." And she snatched it away and began wrapping the axe in white cloth. The cloth must have been enchanted, somehow. Because as it covered the axe, the aura of murder surrounding it faded. "When I next see Vanion, we'll make plans to deal with this abomination."

"Lord Raynald, a snowstorm approaches!" called a man.

They looked up, and sure enough, a great dust cloud came." As men scurried to cover, Raynald sighed. "Really? Just what we needed. More snow."

Yet even as the snowstorm approached, it condensed smaller and smaller. Finally, it flowed over the walls and landed upon the wall, forming the shape of a familiar masked satyr.

"Karasush," said William, being sure to hide his contempt.