Jon didn’t look back as the roar behind him got louder and louder. Over the space of several seconds, it transitioned from the sound of distant thunder to something closer to the end of the world. That wasn’t far wrong, of course, but he didn’t need to look to know what was chasing him. It would only distract him from trying to fend off the last volley of dwarven artillery shells with his fading strength while he picked his route between the craters that pockmarked the long slope back up the hills to higher ground.

He’d destroyed most of their cannons already, but a few of them still existed, and they were using their last few seconds to try to murder him one more time. They wouldn’t succeed with the last five shots any more than they had with the first five hundred, though. All they were doing was distracting him as he fled to higher ground.

Up there on the tracks, he was sure his men would be safe. At least, he was fairly sure. Right now, Jon was in the killing zone, though, and he knew it. He needed to get at least twenty or thirty feet higher in less than a minute, or he’d be drowned and swept out to sea with all of his enemies by the devastating wall of water he’d summoned with that simple little flare.

So, he spurred his horse faster and took greater chances over the rough ground. Normally he’d never treat an animal so roughly, but at this moment, life and death were separated by only a few feet of height, and the horse would die too. It could rest all it liked once they reached the top of the hill.

His focus for the next thirty seconds was monomaniacal, and it was only in the final stretch when he was charging toward his own lines, with the last of the dwarvish rounds detonating above him like a fireworks display that he finally spared a glance over his left shoulder. That was when he found himself almost at eye level with a massive wave of muddy brown water that was doing its best to erase everything in its path.

Jon wondered how many villages had already been erased between where it had started and when it arrived where it had been needed most. How many deaths was he responsible for before the first soldier met his watery end? Dozens certainly, but it might well be hundreds.

He was certain that Rian would have warned any hamlets and farms that were on his way, but there would have been many that weren’t and no time to escape once the disaster was set in motion. Each of those deaths was a tragedy, and he would carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life, but he’d made peace with that burden a long time ago. He’d always known, from the very first time he’d dreamed it up, that it would not be a bloodless victory.

Even if the only people that were killed were those that belonged to his enemy, it was still only a tactic that a monster would use. If he had to become a monster to usher in a better world, then so be it. The vast majority of the enemy forces had concentrated in this single spot, thinking they could crush the blossoming rebellion so completely that no one else would think to try it again for generations. They’d never thought that a dam half a mile above them and a dozen miles from the battlefield could be turned into a doomsday weapon, and their lack of imagination would cost them everything.

As he crashed past his own lines with the water close enough behind that he could feel the spray on his back, he thought about the time that he and Rian had journeyed up to the reservoir. This was in the opening weeks of their little rebellion when the numbers were small, and the passion was fierce. It was when the one question they were asked so often by the men they tried to recruit was where all the water had gone. They’d asked that in some places even more than how Jon hoped to win against the whole kingdom. It was a mystery, and as soon he mentioned dwarven magic, that was always what they’d wanted to know.

Jon didn’t have the answer, so they spent a week looking for the water that had been stolen from rivers and lakes that used to dominate the valleys before either of them had been born. They weren’t sure what it was they would find at the end of that long, dry riverbed, but what they had found seemed impossible. It was an earthen dam so huge that they couldn’t imagine it being made by anyone other than the gods.

The stone men had been the ones behind it, though. Jon was sure of that, even if he wasn’t sure how they would have accomplished such a feat. It was well over a hundred feet tall, so there was simply no way to know how much water such a vast piece of construction contained. Ever since his walk to the surface, Jon had known that it was these great works that were the dwarves' true weakness. He’d imagined blowing up that underground bridge he’d found many times and wondered just how many cities in the deep might starve if he were to accomplish such a thing, but he had no idea how to get back there to try.

They could blow up rail tunnels or dig up sections of track, of course. Just because the dwarves had grown complacent didn’t mean that humanity couldn’t do any number of things to harm their vast trade network if they rose up as one. They’d never be able to do that, though.

Not as long as legions of dwarves bearing brands could be summoned to any part of the kingdom within a few weeks. Anything that broke would be fixed, and anyone that had caused it would be killed. The kingdoms below could crush any rebellion under their heel in less than a month. He’d explained that to Rian countless times before the other man had gotten the message. Even if the king were to join their cause, and they had all of his armies at their back, they would still lose against the dwarves in a fair fight.

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“Who said anything about fair,” Rian had laughed darkly.

That phrase had stuck in Jon’s head for an awfully long time after that. Who said anything about fair. However, it wasn’t until he’d seen the dam before them that day, that he’d finally found that unfair weapon that he could use to crush the dwarven military. All he had to do was find a way to get them in the right spot.

That’s where they were today - standing in just the right spot to protect all the things they thought he was after. They never once wondered why he’d been so vocal that this was where he would face them. Well, they certainly knew it now, he thought as he wheeled his horse around on its hind legs, so he could see the full view of his destruction unleashed.

This was the only battlefield in the entire world where an army of a few hundred brave men and women could hope to defeat the tens of thousands of brand-wielding warriors bent on supporting the status quo. All they needed was a couple tons of explosives and one very well-placed mountain lake.

Despite the fact that Jon had visualized this exact moment many times before, he was still in awe as he looked on opened-mouthed at the sheer scale of destruction on display before him. The fifty-foot tall wall of muddy water had already crossed half the battlefield, and once it reached the swampy open lands, it fell to about thirty feet as the path before it opened up, but that wouldn’t be enough to save anyone. A flood like that was still enough to drown everyone in the valley except his force that clung to the elevated rail line.

The warriors at the far end of the battlefield had already scattered from the neat formations they’d held earlier while they were shelling Jon’s position, but that wouldn’t save them. Even the knights that were riding for their lives couldn’t go far enough or fast enough to outrun the water. He doubted that his stolen steam engine could, even at full speed.

This was a level of elemental wrath that put even his fire magic to shame. Compared to this, he was just the flare gun he’d launched earlier to set this tragedy in motion.

When the torrent finally stopped, and the crashing of water ceased along with the last few screams of the panicked men below, Jon dismounted and gazed at the shell-shocked faces of his men.

“That was it?” one of his lieutenants asked. “That was the secret plan you’d been talking about this whole time?”

“This is what victory looks like, men!” Jon said, ignoring the question and trying to get some energy in the slack-jawed faces that looked at him dumbly.

Only a few scattered cheers responded, though, so he frowned briefly before he forced himself to smile that much wider and yelled out, “Everyone to me!”

This was just one more thing he needed to get in front of. He was sure if he could set the expectation, they’d be ready for the truth, or at least most of the truth.

“Today, many of our own have died. It’s true. I did all I could, and we prepared as much as we were able, but in the end, dwarvish magic has injured or slain many of our brothers today.” Jon said solemnly as the men began to rise on shaky feet and gather around them. “But most of us still breathe, and all of them are dead. A few hundred faced off against ten thousand or more, and we were successful.”

This time there weren’t even a few cheers. There were just shocked expressions, but he continued. “We didn’t just win the war this day; we won the greatest battle since the age of legends. Your names are inscribed upon the stone of history forever after today, and after our work here, no one will be able to stand against us and our efforts to create a new, more just world for all!”

That finally turned at least some of the crowd in his favor. He could tell that many of them had questions now, but he deferred those for later, not wanting to sour things again. “Unit commanders, get me lists of dead and injured. Medics - let’s get the wounded together over there where the ground is still clear.”

“But sir, did you—” a man asked before Jon cut him off.

“For now, I must get to my beloved. She was grievously hurt in this battle, and I must see her healed before we discuss what comes next,” he answered, turning on his heel and walking away from the group.

He could see the disapproval on the faces of some of the men still. There was confusion there and even anger. Most of them had thought that this battle would be like the ones they fought before now, where they used their brands to decimate a force of similar size. None of them thought that Jon might turn the very forces of nature into such a dangerous weapon.

That was why he’d waited as long as he did to unleash it, he told himself as he started walking faster toward Elise, and Jon’s mind warred with itself in a moment of self-doubt. If he had launched that flare at the end of the negotiations he’d have a mutiny on his hands now.

He had high hopes, though, for a lot of things. He hoped they would understand in a few hours or tomorrow. He hoped they would understand that one side or the other had to die and that their leader had chosen correctly. Jon even hoped that Rian was safe and had managed to get clear in time.

Most of all, though, he hoped that Elise would be okay. She had to be, or even his greatest victory would turn to ashes.