"Ren, do you have any idea what's going on?" Galdrehln asked while wheezing as he put on his uniform.

Renkyk didn't even bother to change out of his bed clothes since the chill of that morning was so severe that he thought he could use the extra layer. He just slid on his dark mage's robes and was content to call that good enough. Glancing out the window in their room, he saw that it was still dark., but the courtyard below glowed with ample torchlight as regiments formed up.

"I can only assume we're under attack," he grumbled while securing the clasp for his silver cape. "This isn't all bad, though."

"Not all bad?!" Galdrehln shrieked, his blubbery cheeks rippling. "You haven't gone mad, have you?"

"I don't think so," Renkyk riposted with the hint of a smirk. "A battle means chaos. Chaos means opportunity. Surely there will be a chance for us to sneak away or..."

"Not so loud!" Galdrehln interjected, pushing he finger right up to Renkyk's lips. "You know Dastov lurks around listening in and..."

"He'll be far too busy today. Trust me," Renkyk said, pointing toward the window. "As much as he dominates our lives, we're not the only thing he worries about."

Galdrehln shrugged and finished straightening his uniform.

"I dunno. It damn well always seems like we're the only thing he cares about!" his friend whined.

Nodding, Renkyk reached out to brush some dust off Galdrehln's right shoulder. His friend blushed with an ashamed smile.

"You almost look respectable now," Renkyk decreed.

Galdrehln made a mocking gesture with his hands and rolled his eyes.

"How do you make dressing nice look so easy?" he asked with a limp sigh.

"An attention to detail," Renkyk dryly replied, drawing out another eyeroll from Galdrehln. "That's how we'll get out of this, by the way. Most people are sloppy. An opportunity will present itself. We just have to wait and watch for it."

"And not get killed in the meantime!" Galdrehln added, a finger raised.

"Speaking of which," Renkyk sighed, "I don't think we can delay any longer going to Dastov's chambers. He summoned all of us and we..."

"Yeah, I know. Fuck, this is going to be terrible."

"Battle will be tragically bad, but... Oh, you're right. I'd rather face that than Dastov," Renkyk whimpered and chuckled at the same time.

"See?! I guess if we get through this, the battle will be a cinch!"

Once they both shuffled off to Dastov's chambers with the other mages in the citadel, their fears were more than confirmed. Dastov, standing before a map of the Eynond region, had an unusually severe demeanor while he paced back and forth with his black lacquered cane.

"There have been attacks north and west of Eynond by great beasts of Jagreth. Birds, I understand it. One of the officers called them 'Bladewings' and it sounds like a perfectly fine name for them. I'm sure you can imagine it from the name. Oh yes, exactly what you fear," Dastov looked at the mages assembled before him, especially at Renkyk, and then returned to his aloof professorial stance. "Wings like razors, cleaving men in two. I'll satisfy your imagination. Shorter men had their heads lopped off. Taller men, severed across the chest. Ghastly business. And, what's more, that's the Traitor King Duronaht's opening move. I doubt it's the worst he has for us."

He paused and glanced at the map of the Eynond region. THWACK! His cane smacked onto the map at the Sidraht Bridge some twenty miles to the north of Eynond.

"I will send twenty of you to aid here. Of course our enemy will continue to try to flank us and mages will be needed to fend off future attacks by Jagreth's beasts," he said, his voice trailing off. He then hit the map with another swift THWACK, shifting his cane southwest toward the two bridges crossing the Keldras River on the western flank. "Twenty here, too. If you're all incapable of understanding as to why, I've failed you as an instructor. Before any of you ask, yes, I'll assign you each to a detachment before you depart."

Dastov's lips formed a wicked grimace as he then looked toward Renkyk and Galdrehln, as well as a few others gathered around them.

THWACK!

"The rest of us will be here, at Eynond itself. You can wonder all you like why I'm making this choice, but I assure you that it's the correct one. Whatsoever our enemies are doing to the flanks is a diversion. They mean to strike at Eynond itself, I'm sure of it," Dastov declared, pointing at his head. "You can read your assignments. I've posted them on the other side of the door. These assignments are final and there will be no appeals."

He let that order sink in while his cane slipped down from the map and was restored to his side.

"I know you're all worried you're not skilled enough yet. You're right about that in some ways, that I'll grant you. We would never send archers out into battle this far off from our desired level of proficiency unless we were truly desperate," he said with a smirk. "But what we're doing here is so much more than bows and arrows. Even a tiny glimpse of the power we mean to one day wield can change the course of the battle and indeed all of history. You're all well-prepared to be some of the most important soldiers on the entire battlefield. Never doubt that. If I don't see you again, it's been an honor. Dismissed."

Despite the plain insincerity of Dastov's perfunctory courtesy, Renkyk found it so out of place for Dastov to offer even the flimsiest of warm sentiments. That itself was more unnerving than the fact Dastov requested both Renkyk and Galdrehln to remain behind. While Renkyk breathed deeply and maintained a calm appearance, Galdrehln burst out in a thick layer of sweat even in that cold and drafty chamber. Dastov glanced at each of them in silence as he reached into a bowl of assorted nuts and berries to his right.

"Both of you know you don't have to look at the assignment list, I trust?" he asked, his words marred by chewing and crunching. He swallowed hard, wincing as he did. "You'll be with me the whole time here in the center. Of the mages under my direction, I can't think of two others who are better-suited to what I think is coming for us here. And, yes, Renkyk. I haven't forgotten that you tried, however impotently, to kill me. I've forgiven it, though. I trust you've gotten past that?"

"Yes, of course," Renkyk replied, suppressing any sense that Dastov had unnerved him.

Dastov turned his attention back to the map behind him.

"I'm sure it will be this battle that shows that we mortals have some capacity to humble the angels," the spymaster declared. "At least their mortal forms. Enough to make them think twice about being reckless. It's a good thing, too. It'll slow everything down, make it possible to conduct a proper war. If we're to become independent of Ceuna, this has to be done."

"You know I agree with you on that much," Renkyk said with a laugh.

Dastov smirked and nodded.

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"Go form up with your squad in the courtyard. I'll be with you all shortly," he ordered, continuing to examine his map. "And don't be stupid enough to try to escape. I know you're thinking it. Just let that go."

Renkyk stopped breathing altogether and his heart stopped. His skin prickled and his balance faltered. Did he hear us earlier?! Or did he just guess? Galdrehln nervously tugged at Renkyk's sleeve and encouraged him to leave the room immediately.

Once Renkyk and Galdrehln were well clear of Dastov's chamber, they followed their instructions, barely a word passing between them until they were almost at the bottom of the tight circular stairwell to the courtyard.

"What was with that?!" Galdrehln loudly whispered into Renkyk's ear. "Do you think he listens in? How? How could..."

"I don't know," Renkyk sighed, deflated. "I can never figure out if he's actually as good as he pretends or if he's just very lucky. Either way, we'll play this slow."

"Slow sounds good!" Galdrehln squeaked out.

"As I say," Renkyk started as he opened the door to the mustering mages in the courtyard, "an attention to detail. We'll know our opportunity when it comes."

~~~

Rithys floated alongside Cyrona on the Keldras River's north bank with Emperor Rohmhelt's legions arrayed within the forested flat ground that made up much of the land west of Eynond. In the golden early morning light, the otherwise drab autumnal landscape had a beauty to it that Rithys paused to admire even as the tempestuous Cyrona fumed next to her. Rithys languidly turned her attention to the river's opposite bank where Duronaht's army formed up to considerable fanfare.

"You are troubled," Rithys said to Cyrona, placing her ebony hand on Cyrona's shimmering watery body.

"How could I not be?!" the Water Angel spat, shaking Rithys away. "Whatever those abominations were that Jagreth unleashed upon us last night, those are not his only play. No, these are just Omonrel's opening moves and I dread to see what more is coming. Look over there."

Cyrona pointed toward Duronaht's army and its escalating celebratory music as it fell into formation. Rithys nodded and glanced back to Cyrona. Doubtlessly outraged by the Moon Angel's placid response, Cyrona's waters roiled.

"Do you understand what I mean, Rithys?" she asked, her voice bellowing.

Rithys weakly nodded.

"Yes. They are confident, which means they might know something."

Cyrona gave a mocking bow to the Moon Angel.

"I sometimes feel I am the only one among us, Forynda included, who understands just how ravenous Omonrel and his followers are," Cyrona despaired. "I went to speak with her again and her answer was more of the same. She said a critical moment would come and she would at last rejoin us, but she could not be bothered to tell me anything more than that."

Rithys sensed a vague encroaching presence on the southern horizon, but it was not enough to draw her attention away from Cyrona.

"I trust in Forynda," Rithys replied. "If she feels it right to refrain, I will not question that."

Cyrona's iridescent eyes flashed at her.

"Rithys, if I were capable of your level of trust, I..."

At once, Cyrona fell silent and her gaze shot entirely to the south. Rithys sensed a disturbance in the air, much more distinct than what she had felt before. Into the void of their silence slipped the haunting familiar discordant melodies that only one in all of Ceuna or Vorlanys could produce.

"Parlon!" Cyrona growled and surged forward to the riverbank.

Rithys floated behind her by some distance, observing the cheers rising from Duronaht's multitudes. Before long, she saw the levitating figure of Parlon, with his gilded skin and amethyst eyes emerge from the ranks, holding his arms wide for his adoring followers. When he had cleared even the skirmish lines, he spun around back toward the soldiers and loosed a display of colorful lights and entrancing sounds the likes of which Rithys had not yet seen.

"Thank you, my friends!" Parlon lyrically boomed over the whole land. "Today, our final victory begins! But, first, I must have a word with these two lovely creatures!"

With slavish devotion, the whole horizon guffawed. The laughter of some tens of thousands of mortals was a new phenomenon to Rithys and it was one that caused her to sympathize with Cyrona's building rage at Parlon. As Parlon neared them, she noticed his skin blacken and lose its golden luster, just as it had in prior encounters. He took up along the opposite bank and gauged his opponents.

"My dear Rithys, this is no place for you," he sang, mockingly gesturing toward her as he skipped along. "And Cyrona, I--"

"Parlon, I will not deal with your insults today. If you mean to start a battle, DO IT!" Cyrona roared, her voice rippling across air and water alike.

"That schedule is not mine to decide, Cyrona," Parlon quipped with a mischievous wink. He raised a finger and turned back around, looking southward. "In fact, how clumsy of me, I think I am a touch early."

He raised a hand into the air and flicked it several times.

"Ah. There they are!" he squealed in glee. "Oh, my friends, make way!"

In hurried shuffles, Duronaht's legions opened wide channels to allow the charge of hulking monstrosities the likes of which Rithys had never seen before. As tall as five men standing atop one another and weighing the same as a thousand such men, they had broad bony heads and astonishingly flat backs, smooth as the roads mortals had paved. Several dozen of these beasts thundered northward toward the Keldras River.

"What has Jagreth done to you?" Cyrona gasped in horror.

At a single glance, Rithys at least understood why Jagreth had done what he did. If the bridges were severed by Cyrona, these beasts could simply lodge themselves in the river and create their own bridges. It was not a perfect solution, but the intention was clear.

"I know what you are thinking, Cyrona," Parlon taunted, waving his arm back and forth as these abominations lunged forward behind him at a torrid pace. "But it will fail."

Grunting, Cyrona jutted her arms skyward and the whole Keldras River rose as a watery veil from one end to the other. Clenching her hands, the water, and everything in it, froze solid. The entire river was now a wall of ice for miles in each direction. Parlon floated forward and tapped his fingers upon it, making an eerie song out of the sounds of his fingers clashing with the ice. He shrugged and backed away just before Jagreth's beasts charged into the barrier.

Dull thuds and sharp cracks reverberated through the ice, causing Rithys to flinch. Parts of the ice wall had indeed buckled under their charge. One of the beasts nearest Rithys had even lodged its bony plate several feet into the ice, though failed to break it entirely. Cyrona redoubled her efforts, clenching her entire body in the struggle. Some of Jagreth's creatures had broken their own necks with the impact and their life essences sloughed away, slithering across the divide between the mortal world and the Communion of Souls. Most, however, backed away to attempt a new charge.

"I must congratulate you, Cyrona," Parlon's voice arched over the wall as he once again looked through the transparent barrier, which distorted his increasingly twisted features. "This is fine work. How long can it hold, though? And, I assure you, I am not the only show today."

Cyrona turned her head toward Rithys as the Water Angel's body twitched under the strains of her efforts.

"Rithys, cross over to the other side and battle Parlon!" Cyrona commanded.

"I... I am not..." Rithys wavered at the unexpected order.

"This is all a distraction and I need to be freed from it. I need you!"

"I..." Rithys muttered and looked at Parlon, who taunted them both through the barrier. "I will do what I can."

~~~

Duronaht sat in the simple, but comfortable, wood and leather chair atop a hill overlooking Eynond from the south. His servants had brought the chair, a longstanding favorite of his, from his study in his old palace in Methrangia to accompany him for the campaign. It sat awkwardly upon the soil and grass, but he shifted his weight to compensate for those deficiencies. It was a fine enough vantage point that such discomfort meant little.

In front of him was his main force that awaited instructions to attempt a frontal assault across the river against the fortress city itself. Well more than one hundred thousand men, his finest troops at that, waited for the moment to strike with banners waving and music playing. However, even under his preferred plans, it would likely not be today.

On either side of him floated Omonrel and Gorondos. Gorondos, the Fire Angel, twitched impatiently as Omonrel continued to relay word from the efforts miles away on the northern and western flanks.

"Your Imperial Majesty will be pleased to know that Parlon has engaged Cyrona and has her heavily occupied," Omonrel proudly announced. The Sculptor Angel was unusually pleased with himself this time. "Shall I send word to Myrvaness and Jagreth?"

"Please do," Duronaht ordered, smiling. After Omonrel sped off toward the north, Duronaht turned toward Gorondos. The Fire Angel's eyes glowed as molten lava and his ashen face was unmoved by the Emperor's attention. "Gorondos, now's your time. Begin to bombard Eynond itself. My siege engines will help you as they can, but I expect you to make the main show of it."

"I will, Your Imperial Majesty," Gorondos rumbled and began to float forward.

"And don't hold back for my sake," Duronaht added, causing the Fire Angel to spin around in surprise. "I've visited Eynond only a couple times in my life and it's nothing worth saving. Worse than anything else, it's boring. There's nothing to do there. Going up in flame will be the best thing that's ever happened to it."

Gorondos acknowledged the order with a slight nod of his head and floated toward the line of catapults and other siege engines arrayed at the maximum range across the river from Eynond. In each hand, he summoned gelatinous flaming orbs of magma, several fold the size of a man's head. With great heaves, the Flame Angel launched the orbs into the sky toward Eynond.

Alright, brother. Let's see what you do now.