Back up, Relma went to the walls, carrying a jug of water with her. She offered to anyone who became thirsty. As she reached the top, she saw both the militia and the man at arms assembling on the walls. Spears and bows were in their hands, as well as some axes. They looked out over the fields where, even now, the satyrs were beginning to emerge.

They hadn't yet come out of the marshes, however. Many were half-submerged in the water. Others were peering out of the trees or hanging from branches. Like the apes from the stories Aren used to tell.

Eventually, Relma reached Varsus, where he stood with the blade at his side. To her surprise, he was standing with the officers from before. And they were speaking to him as a commander. She supposed he was the highest rank of any present except Reginald. Relma was the Heir of Kings, so that didn't hold up. And Aunt Pan didn't even have a rank.

"Relma, what are you doing here?" asked Varsus as she approached.

"The healer asked me to look after anyone injured on the wall," said Relma.

"Excellent," said Varsus. "Every bit helps. You can stay here if you wish. We'll have a better view of things. At least until the carnage starts."

"Sir Varsus, the message has been sent out," said Anagoth, approaching. "Frederick and De Cathe know what is happening. With luck, they'll bring reinforcements."

'How far away are they?" asked Varsus.

"Three days," said Anagoth.

"The satyrs may be gone by the time they come then," said Varsus.

"What do you mean?" asked Relma, forgetting her place.

"This may be a raid," said Varsus. "We still don't know the enemy's full strength. Our reports came from trees, and they never say anything clearly. At least not without taking three years about it."

"You can talk to trees?" asked Relma.

"No," said Anagoth. "But some among our folk can. It's a skill that helps us defend against satyr raids. Anias sending Fayn out there was sheer idiocy."

"Where is Fayn?" asked Relma. "And Estela, for that matter? I haven't seen them anywhere."

"They and Reginald have orders of their own," said Varsus. "Look there."

And out of the trees came the satyrs. Wearing war paint, they howled and gnashed their teeth as they rushed out. The mud of the marsh was on them. They looked more like animals than sentients; Relma realized that was an awful thing to think. Their spears, axes, and swords were in their hands as they rushed forward.

Those few houses that remained had their doors kicked in. The satyrs entered, searching around for anything to look at. Fields were torn up, and crops trampled as they hacked down everything they found. One or two human screams could be heard from people who hadn't gotten out in time. Relma saw distant figures being pulled from their houses before packs of satyrs fell on them. They were covered beneath a pile of satyrs, and then the screams halted. Then, one of the creatures rose up with a bloodied mouth and snarled.

"That's far more than I expected," said Anagoth. "And no ladders."

"Yes," said Varsus. "No doubt they are counting on spiritual support. Fortunately, I've arranged for their coming not to be unwelcomed." Then he drew a horn and blew it a long, shrill call.

As it rang, the ground seemed to shift as a large force of warriors emerged from the grass. They fell on the satyrs while pillaging and killing all they could.

Estela was at the front, hacking down all who came before her. Reginald was to her left, his serrated blade moving in a blur. Ham was on the right, slashing the enemy with ruthless strikes. One of the satyrs caught him across the helm with his sword, but Ham powered through and ran him through.

Then there was Fayn, sending waves of flame here and there to scorch satyrs. Some were reduced to charred corpses. Others caught fire and fled, screaming away in search of water. Often, their sparks lit up others.

Chaos engulfed the battlefield as the satyrs responded and rushed at them. But the warriors formed up, locking their shields. Spears were lowered, and the satyr attack halted as it smashed against them. Many fell from the spears during the first charge. Warriors met those who got through with swords.

Varsus watched in satisfaction. "Reginald and Estela were waiting in ambush alongside a large part of the militia. Fayn is with them."

"But they can't fight all of them," said Anagoth. "You're throwing good men away."

"No, but they can give them a bloody nose," said Varsus. "And that can demoralize an enemy. Pandora, call forth the insects."

Aunt Pan had been standing in the shadow of the gatehouse. Relma hadn't even noticed her there. Coming forward, Aunt Pan raised a hand. "As you wish."

Insects? Relma stared at the battlefield and suddenly saw a mist begin to gather. It got thicker, little by little. Wherever it went, the satyrs broke and backed away. Soon, it was covering nearly the entire battlefield. "Flies," she realized. "Their flies!"

"And other creatures," said Pandora. "I've been gathering the flies and stinging insects from across the land to this region for weeks. It was ever since I received news of the massings satyrs. Now, they are unleashed against our enemies.

"Never underestimate the power of a stinging insect."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Then the world seemed to shift, the sky changing hue like some will have been set in motion. A silver netting seemed to fill the air as a black mass rushed past the satyr ranks. The satyrs took heart and charged behind them. The nets swung this way and that, catching the flies by the dozens with every swing.

"What are those?" asked Relma.

"Spiders of Rioletta," said Aunt Pan with a frown. "They are using their webs to catch the flies.

So it appears that Lucius has other allies." Then she raised her hand skyward. "Come forth, birds of the world! Feast on the spawn of demons!"

And out of the trees came birds. Hundreds of birds flew out and began to dive-bomb down into the battlefield. They snatched up spiders one after another, devouring them whole. And more birds came behind them. The battlefield now seemed a mass of darting shapes, yet Relma felt it was not yet over.

For a satyr, warrior stood upon a rock and let out a call like a bird. And many birds of prey swooped out of the trees to begin hunting. The mortal combatants now seemed insignificant, one part of a much greater battle. The corpses of thousands, perhaps more than thousands, were piling up. There were insects, mortals, birds, everything you could imagine.

"Hawks," said Relma. "I've never seen so many of them before."

"The satyrs have contacts of their own," said Varsus.

"Sound the withdrawal," said Pandora. "We're doing well, but they'll be overwhelmed once the satyrs begin to advance."

Varsus drew his horn and blew it again. On reflex, the warriors fighting the satyrs began to withdraw. As they did, a great flame rose between them and the enemy, scorching the grass. Many creatures were burned away by the fire that covered their retreat.

"That was a far more impressive display than I thought Fayn capable of," said Pandora.

"She has advanced much in wielding Cin'Dar's power," said Varsus.

On came the retreating troops, and the gates were opened for them. Many of them looked sick, and many were injured. Not one of them was covered in bug bites. And outside, Relma saw the battle gradually clearing. The bodies were dragged away or devoured.

"Relma, there will be wounded among our vanguard," said Varsus. "Go to them and heal them as best you can."

"Yes, Varsus," said Relma.

The wounded were many, and the healers were hard at work tending to them. Relma saw several minor cuts and several significant bruises. Though they would not be minor if they got infected.

Then she saw Fayn.

The girl was lying on the ground, several men keeping the pressure on her side. Her breastplate had been removed to show black clothes stained with blood. Relma kneeled by her. "Let me see her." And she began to work at healing the injury. It was a serious one, and she had to work at it a lot to make any progress at all.

"What happened to her?" she asked to distract herself.

"A satyr caught her in the side with its spear." said the man. "Though it lost its head for the trouble."

"Hold on a moment," said Relma, finishing the job. "There, that should help." Fayn's eyes opened. "Are you alright, Fayn?"

"Fine, now tend to someone else!" snapped Fayn.

Relma smiled and stood. "Right."

Finishing her rounds, Relma eventually found Estela with a bandage around her arm. She approached quickly. "Estela, are you alright?"

"It's just a scratch," said Estela. "We did well today. Reginald must have killed a dozen of them."

"How is that good?" asked Relma.

"They aren't a threat anymore," said Estela.

"Oh right," said Relma, reminding herself there were benefits to killing enemies.

But then Estela looked up, and her expression became strange. "...Are those clouds? There weren't any like that a few minutes ago."

Relma looked up at the clouds that grew darker and darker before them. As if a thunderstorm might be unleashed at any moment. "Do you think this is Lucius?"

"Lady Estela, Sir Reginald!" called a man.

"What is it?" asked Estela.

"Come to the wall, quickly," said the man.

They quickly rushed out and looked out over the darkening landscape. Then they saw something truly horrible. Bleached white bones, stripped of flesh, had arisen again. Ranks of skeletons march forward. Hewn bodies had reassembled, still bleeding to move forward. Relma saw wounded satyrs running themselves through. Then they arose in death and drew the blades out.

"The dead... the bodies of the dead are rising again," said Estela, face white.

"Only the satyrs," said Pandora, appearing. "They've given themselves fully to Lucius. The very ground beneath their feet groans in agony."

"Archers ready!" called Varsus.

"Aim for the live satyrs. Your arrows will be little good against the dead," said Pandora. "I am drawing back the animals I summoned to a defensive position. These powers are not natural and can be fought with nature."

Arrows rained as the dead marched forward as a vanguard. The live satyrs stayed out of range, letting the walking corpses near them. As they neared, plants began to grow at the base of the wall. Vines scaled in moments up the walls, wrapping around them. And the dead began to climb as arrows plunged into them uselessly.

"Fayn, get up here!" called Reginald down. "Quickly!"

"Relma, go to work at once!" said Pandora.

"Yes, Aunt Pan!" said Relma.

And then the dead reached the top. Then began the battle, as men hacked down at the corpses. Limbs were hewed off; heads were split. Sometimes, the wounds even killed them. The dead were not very good fighters, but that wasn't their purpose.

It was a distraction. The archers couldn't fire while grappling with the undead, and now the satyrs were also scaling up the vines. Relma dodged under a scimitar blade to heal a wounded man on the ground. His eyes were vacant as her flesh knit. "Come on, get up! Your friends need you!"

Then she saw some militia, terrified, running for the stairs. Quickly, Relma got between them.

"What are you doing?" she asked, voice calm. "Why are you running when the battle is the other way?"

The men looked ashamed, then ran back. And Relma went to heal more wounded. But it became clear that things were going badly. The satyrs who were killed always rose again as undead. The mass of bodies on the wall was increasing. All Relma could do was keep the men fighting, giving water where she had to.

And then there came the howl of a wolf.

Relma's heart leaped, and she ran to the edge. There, she saw hundreds of wolves and many figures who were a mix of wolves and human. They sprinted out of the trees and fell on the satyrs from behind, tearing through them. And there was Ajax, his silver hair flowing as he ripped satyr after satyr to shreds with his bare hands. His sister, Anya, was down there, fighting nearly as well.

And it was not the last of the help. For out of the trees came armored men, clad for war. And hundreds of halflings riding upon wolves. At their head were Sir Frederick and Ronald. They broke the satyr ranks and drove them on.

"Ajax! Ajax has come!" called Relma. "Sir Frederick and De Cathe are with him! They are here!"

"But how?" said Estela. "They're three days away."

"Apparently not," said Relma.

Soon, the assault drew off to repel the new attack. Frederick and his allies formed up to meet them and charged. But even as he did, the dead rose up in a mockery of life. Caught from two sides, they were soon surrounded and fighting for their lives. And more satyrs came out of the woods to reinforce them.

"They'll be killed for sure," said Estela before rushing, looking for Varsus. She found him resting on his blade, two dead satyrs at his feet. "Varsus! Varsus, we have to go out to aid them!"

Varsus looked up. "Reginald, prepare to go to their aid."

"The men are exhausted. We're in no position to attack," said Reginald.

"We have no choice," said Varsus. "We'll carve a path of escape for them and then retreat to the fortress. With time we may be able to-"

And then something arose within Relma. A power not her own but of her kind. Lightning Trail was naked in her hand of its own accordingly. She felt the power growing within it as she was drawn to the edge of the wall. "There is no need."

"Relma, what are you doing?" asked Estela.

Relma leaped up onto the parapet and raised the sword skyward. Power blazed within her as the skies rumbled ever stronger. "In the name of Lord Elranor, be gone from this world!" she cried aloud, though it was not her speaking. Everyone turned to her, even the dead. "Come lightning and thunder! Consume the armies of the dead, be obliterated down to the last bone!"

The clouds opened, and lightning fell upon them like rain. Thousands of flashes were seen across the battlefield. A lightning rain smashed down on the dead, blasting them and the enemies with them. Some ran, only to be consumed. Others pressed forward and were destroyed. The enemy was consumed by rain and fire from the sky in a mere instant. The battle was won.

And then it was over. The enemy army was destroyed. Relma felt sick.

"Hail Relma Artorious!" said Lady Pandora. "Hail the Heir of Kings!"

"HAIL THE HEIR OF KINGS!" came the cry.

They had won. But at great cost. Though few of Relma's friends were killed, her enemies had all died around her. It made her sad.