“Form ranks!” Clymere hissed. The Dytifrouráns immediately linked their shields together and laid their spears over the top to form a bristling wall. The slightest twitch would set off a barrage of magical bolts and flung power. “Hold!”

Headsman Linus stood ahead, unphased by the threat of the Hesperians. His face might as well have been carved from stone as an illusory spear manifested in his hand. The Hesperian veterans immediately leveled their own weapons at the Dytifrouráns, ready to lash out with their own magic at a moment’s notice.

“Leave us, huntress,” Linus’ voice was like a landslide. “My people will go without bloodshed. You have no quarrel with them.”

“I am not here for them,” she agreed easily, her straight black hair fluttering as her eyes, lifeless like a doll’s (though not one of Kosta’s, he thought proudly), met the Dytifrourá champion’s. “I am here for the children.”

The woman leapt from the walls in the blink of an eye, graceful as a cat as she landed easily. Her soldiers tensed when the Dytifrouráns tightened ranks in response. She seemed unperturbed by the threat.

Still, while her words betrayed threat, Kosta nearly hissed at the sound of her accent. Sharp intonations hidden beneath an easy drawl. He’d heard that same pattern a hundred times from merchants coming to Dytifrourá from the east.

She was of the Dipoli. She hailed from one of the twin cities which ruled these western lands. One of their own. No wonder the Hesperians were so uncomfortable around her: she wasn’t born beneath the white griffin.

There were no children still in Dytifrourá, yet Headsman Linus’ nostrils flared. His fingers clutched his spear. “They were not our children.”

The Hesperians roared, their collective power flexing like a tide, though Headsman Linus’ eyes never left his challenger.

“But children nonetheless.”

“Future insurgents. I’d have seen them again today, I expect. Perhaps they would have found their end a second time..I carried out my orders. I bear no guilt for you to prey upon, Mantis,” Headsman Linus jeered. He took the heads of the slain Nephonaut and his griffin companion from Philo and hurled them at the Mantis.

The Hesperians wailed, horrified at the sight of their fallen champions, while the woman just kicked them away without so much as blinking.

“That is the fate that awaits you!” Headsman Linus thundered. He laughed at the cries of the Hesperians. “We will break your cities. We will crush you beneath our heel. We will repay every drop of our blood you spilled today with a river of your own! Come! Test Linus of Dytifrourá!”

With those words, her power unleashed. It weighed down upon Kosta like one of the Nephonauts had descended to earth. The charged atmosphere was soon saturated with the light of her soul, flickering with snow-like specks.

Her magic was stark white, untainted, pure. It came down in resolute currents from her chest and coalesced smoothly around her arms, forming wicked blades that reminded Kosta of a mantis. The power which flowed from her was terrible, yet the apeironic bronze segments of her cheires armguards amplified it further, binding it and preventing any of her expressed magic from being lost to careless movements.

The uncompromising light of her soul radiated like that of a star. Kosta felt blinded for a moment, dread filling his gut, only for relief to sweep over him as Headsman Linus unveiled his own strength, sturdy as a mountain, and pounded his spear into the stone once.

Battle was joined.

Even as the Dytifrouráns and Hesperians fired bolt after bolt in an overwhelming barrage, the champions rushed forward. The Hesperian assault broke upon the Dytifrourán phalanx, but they were relentless. Two warders in the barbarian ranks maintained semi-permeable barriers that snagged and snuffed out hostile magic while allowing their own to pass through untouched.

These shock troopers came prepared.

As Clymere braced herself and unleashed a wide torrent of fire from her spear tip, one of their number cast his weapons aside and held both hands high. Sweat dripped down his brow as his face grimaced, but he managed to wrestle with Clymere for control over the flame and attempted to turn it back upon the militia instead. He failed to take it from her, but Clymere was soon forced to snuff her own flame out lest it blaze out of control.

She was forced to fire little bolts of flame instead, which clung to the warded membrane and burned away at it.

Kosta could do nothing but catch the odd strike with one of his Projected barriers. He had no way to strike from range, which he was quickly realizing to be a major flaw. After a while, he was forced to scrounge for rubble, shape it into sharp shards with his magic, and hurl it at the quivering wall of magic instead.

At least he was doing something.

His heart pounded in his ears as the battle continued. The Hesperians rained down hell upon them, casting barrage after barrage that slowly eroded the defenses erected by their shield wall. Its magic strained, pushed to its limits by the incessant assault that offered no chance for the barriers to reconstitute themselves, and Kosta knew that it would shatter in a moment.

If only he could get to the walls! Perhaps he could sneak over and bring them down to eliminate the Hesperians’ control of the high ground and bring the battle onto even terms…

But only death laid in that path.

Headsman Linus and his slippery foe circled, wary of the other, until the woman shot into action. Kosta could barely track her as anything but a dark blur as she struck like quicksilver. Those fearsome white blades lashed out in an instant, humming as they carved through the air, and met the Headsman’s illusory buckler with a clang.

She bore her full weight down upon Headsman Linus’ shield, though it was insignificant compared to Headsman Linus’ bulk. Still, Kosta did not miss the steady white glow that seemed to devour the Headsman’s buckler. It slid slowly but steadily through the phantasmal metal, carving down from the top edge towards his hand.

No doubt her body was fortified to an enormous degree. Kosta knew little of her, but there was no doubting she was powerful.

She’d come after Linus for a reason.

Still, Headsman Linus was her better in that regard. Kosta loosed a relieved breath as Linus grunted, heaved, and tossed the woman back into the town walls. She slammed into it hard enough to break bones, but easily rolled off of it and coiled like a serpent as she prepared to leap back into the fray.

He wasn’t idle during this time. Headsman Linus snarled as he glanced up to see a focused storm of magic bolts cast from the Hesperian spears in an effort to weaken him, and caught them all on an illusory wall before he managed to fling his good arm into the air with a roll of his shoulder and a roar of pain.

“Shatter their wards!”

The Dytifrouráns cheered him on. At Clymere’s command, they fired as one toward the barrier. Each of the soldiers poured all they had into the volley, over a dozen white bolts (and one brick) blazing forth like little stars shooting through the sky. It struck with sounds like shattering glass or an icicle descending from a tree’s branch to crack upon the ground.

They roared with victory as the warders’ strength was briefly overcome, although the erected protections had already begun to reconstitute underneath the specialists’ attention. One Hesperian was too slow to protect himself and took several wounds as the bolts centered upon him, although the rest defended immediately.

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But it didn’t matter if the warders would bring it back up within a few seconds. Headsman Linus had what he needed.

His wounded fist closed, power flooded the area, and the Hesperians cried out as a dozen more illusory militiamen manifested within their ranks.

Those who had fought Linus before were ready and shouted out a warning, but the rest were caught off guard. Some immediately turned to the phantasmal constructs with weapons in hand, stabbing, slashing, and smashing before the warriors gained awareness, but Headsman Linus’ magic was strong.

It took mere moments before the warriors turned upon the Hesperians. Swords and spears flashed. Men and women cried out as blows were traded, but Headsman Linus’ aims were soon complete. Most of his illusory warriors were struck down, but Hesperian after Hesperian was forced from the walls, leaping down to avoid deadly blows.

“Push!” Clymere roared, and the Dytifrouráns marched forward. She commanded from just behind the front line due to her lack of shield, rallying them to fight as one. Their enchanted shields formed an impenetrable wall that bristled with spearheads which slowly pushed closer to Headsman Linus and the scattered Hesperians. Kosta felt rather useless as he brought up the rear with his hammer and chisel in hand.

Those veterans would form a hardened core within the minute as they reorganized, but for now they were almost defenseless as the Dytifrouráns moved forward as one, firing bolt after bolt from the apeironic spearheads as they did so.

Each individual Hesperian lashed out, some with howling gales of wind, others with crackling arcs of lightning which twined around their fingers, and the same from before with a blazing inferno that sought to devour Headsman Linus. Kosta suspected that the Hesperians in their ranks were fairly superior to the average Dytifrourán here, although he had faith that Clymere could contest with the best of them.

But the individuals could do little against the full might of the Dytifrourán phalanx. Each attack simply washed off the protections embedded into the Dytifrourán shield wall, so many of the barbarians turned their efforts to assisting their leader.

The Headsman cast their errant blows aside without a glance as his foe pounced. He fueled power into his illusory shield, caught the blazing white blades upon it, and held firm beneath the assault, only to grimace and come stumbling back as the woman let one of her white weapons vanish, twisted past the edges of his shield, and re-manifested the blade once again to carve into his side.

It was a grazing blow, largely stopped by the protections embedded in his thick armor, but after the long day of battle those enchantments had been exhausted. He suffered a further wound, a slight cut below his ribs. Headsman Linus’ left arm was nigh useless, and now she’d further crippled that side.

Five Hesperians had fallen beneath the coordinated assault, but three remained on the wall and the surviving twelve upon the ground gathered themselves into their own phalanx, which proved immune to the magics mustered by the Dytifrouráns. Clymere attempted to lob another great, focused fireball into the Hesperian phalanx, but their pyromancer, assisted by the surviving warder, snuffed it out.

Clymere snarled, unused to being so helpless. “I need to get in there! Headsman Linus needs help.”

“Hold. We need you here,” Philo said as he held the front line. He’d acquired a huge shield from somewhere, perhaps scavenged from a fallen brother, and he acted as the anchor for the Dytifrourán shield wall.

She watched with blatant frustration as Headsman Linus and his foe traded blow after blow. Headsman Linus was strong despite his wounds. Illusory arms struck from every angle. Phantasmal soldiers leapt in front of him to absorb any crippling blows. Pale spears exploded from the earth in an attempt to impale the woman from below.

The Mantis didn’t avoid them all, but she moved easily with each strike and avoided the worst of the damage. The woman was still fresh. Headsman Linus had battled for hours at this point, Dytifrourá’s greatest champion in its hour of need.

Despite the seeming misgivings of the Hesperians for their doll-eyed leader, they grew frenzied and eager as she danced around Headsman Linus. His wounds slowed him, while she was like a nimble fox nipping at a great bear’s heels.

“Cyra, Cyra, Cyra!” Hesperians chanted from within their own phalanx, steeling themselves as they unleashed a flurry of magic. The Dytifrouráns could advance no further to pin the Hesperians against the wall, forced to hold strong against the sudden gales that crashed against them in an attempt to break open their shield wall and expose them to hostile magic.

Headsman Linus clenched his fist and manifested an illusory brick wall in his foe’s path. White blades sizzled as they carved through it, peeling away layer after layer of magic in her efforts to pierce through.

“Hold ranks! This fight is mine!” Headsman Linus dared to spare a glance for Clymere, whose fingers clenched around her weapon. His shield blinked out of existence, then the lavender light reconstituted into a great hammer that he wielded with one hand. The Mantis clawed through his wall, only to meet the hammer’s shift as he jabbed it through the gap.

She grunted as she was forced back, her blades briefly flickering, and then Headsman Linus burst through the tattered remains of his lavender wall with his hammer. A bestial roar loosed from his lips as the hammer’s head slammed into Cyra’s side and flung her within range of the militia’s spears.

Even as he rushed her, the Hesperians unleashed a storm of their magic that forced Linus to stagger backwards, though his protections held firm. Their collective, unfocused power lacked the sheer intensity of the Mantis’.

Two spears, one belonging to Eunike and the other a guardsman that Kosta had never met, jabbed towards the Mantis with blazing white heads. She barely spared them a glance. One of her blades flashed upwards, morphing into a straight edge before their eyes, and the soldiers could only stare as the two spears were instantly severed in half.

Cyra’s hollow eyes glanced from Linus, who held firm beneath the assault of the Hesperian phalanx, to the phalanx. Kosta met them for a moment and felt a rush of power pass over him, as if she was surveying each of her foes.

She scanned them again, severed three more spears, and swerved fluidly around Clymere’s great gout of flame. One of her blades flicked out casually. The searing white held against the focused might of the shield wall for a moment, then carved through the wards like a hot knife through butter.

“Forward! Forward!” Clymere commanded as Cyra leapt away, her duty done. “Our protections are gone. Support the Headsman! Dytifrouráns, march!”

With a roar, the militia pushed forward. They still clung close to one another. Alone they would be broken beneath a surge of magic, and those in the front still held shields high to protect those behind them. But rather than hunkering down and trading exchange after exchange with the Hesperians, they were forced to act.

Headsman Linus gritted his teeth as Cyra leapt at him again. He warded her away with a few hammer swings and a volley of illusory spears that flew past her and struck the Hesperian phalanx with a clang, but Cyra circled and poked and prodded. Whenever he sought to fall back or go to the aid of his beloved soldiers, she was there.

As the Dytifrouráns marched, Kosta stuck close. Philo led, his shield battered by bolt after bolt that threatened to shatter the lingering enchantments within it, but they slowed as the Hesperians began to unleash their own special brands of magic.

Neither side had invested much except in critical moments. When both sides held a phalanx and the magic of their shields overlapped, it essentially became a waiting game. They exchanged volleys, searched for a weakness, and waited for the other side to wear out or be caught by a change in fortune…usually the appearance of reinforcements who could strike from another angle or a mighty warrior like the Headsman or the Mantis.

Headsman Linus swung again and again, the passing of his hammer splitting off into three, and Cyra hissed as one clipped her. One of her white blades shifted beneath her will and flattened into a hard shield that caught the hammerhead, but she still went spinning backwards, though her other blade flashed to ward off any eager Dytifrouráns. Cyra planted her feet into the stone to steady herself.

Her protections had dispersed much of the force, but it offered the Headsman time. Linus stood straight and tall, numerous injuries and exhaustion pushed aside for a moment, as he held his hand aloft. Lavender power bled from his every pore, lingering around him like a pale fog, and the Hesperians shouted in warning -

Kosta’s nearly fell to his knees as he Projected a grey barrier ahead of Linus and it was forced to stand strong against the panicked blows from a dozen Hesperians, each mightier than he. But he held nonetheless.

“My loyal comrades!” Headsman Linus boomed one last time as Cyra turned to him, death in her eyes, and her white blades sharpened and curved. “You’ve stood with me until the end. I thank you. But Dytifrourá does not die today!”

And with that, the lavender mist flowed to the walls. Headsman Linus sagged as enormous power left him in a flood, but he smiled behind his bloody beard as the illusory fog split into more than a dozen figures, garbed in the armor of the Dytifrourán militia with silver plumes sparking over their phantasmal helmets.

Kosta traced them in the blink of an eye, committing the image to memory, but slow realization washed over him. Quite a few of the spectral warriors were unremarkable, hidden behind helmets and shields and the mimicry of linothorax armor, but several were more familiar.

A giant man wielding an enormous hammer and a dour expression.

A woman with a spear and no shield, lavender flame trickling in her palm.

And beside her, a man in nothing but a chiton and sandals wielded a hammer and chisel.

In the darkest hour, Headsman Linus had brought reinforcements.

Headsman Linus roared as an illusory club manifested in his good hand, and so did the illusory clones cheer as one. It was met by a resounding chorus from the surviving Dytifrouráns, and the Hesperians quickly formed a back-to-back phalanx to protect against attacks from all sides.

For the first time, Cyra frowned.