“ARCHERS. READY!” Nyt calls.

“I call upon Zeus; lord of Olympus, lend me a bolt so that I might smite my enemy.”

The broken, burning roots shatter as I rocket out of my encirclement, and crash against the ground into a roll. The whirling wind packed with steam and mist collided against a few of the fliers, sending both rider and mount falling to the ground in a mess of flailing limbs, and broken wings, giving me enough time to duck back into the cover provided by the burning roots. My head ached. I had used too much magic and had to recuperate. I duck into cover just as the javelins and arrows start once more.

I only need to recover a little bit of mana so that I can retreat behind the walls. Going out now would be suicide. The intensity of the spells the apostle was using seems to increase, judging by the rocking of the earth and the shaking of the sky....no, I don’t have the time to recover. I draw my kris and rush out of the cover. Arrows and javelins fly out of the sky, and trail after me. I point the kris to the sky.

“You Shades who live within these blades, and answer to these words. I let loose those aweful wards, and send you to my prey.”

Violet figures fly into the sky and flood into the bodies of a few of the mounts and they spiral down to the earth. Maybe I should get rid of them all — I motion to the next, and the four spirits follow after; before they could collide against the next flier, the apostle fires an orb of bright light in the air. The shades screech and moan, and the four purple crystals on the hilt of the blade shatter. The spell is quickly countered. Too late.

I had gained enough distance to squeeze through two of the spikes and scramble up the wooden walls.

“Archers! This way!”

The archers were getting ready; their fingers on the string, and arrows nocked clumsily on those strings. They were, however, too far away. The Efran army was approaching from the left field, and our forces were still in the center. They glance in my direction and begin to move. Immediately, however, a few of the earthen spikes, and the wooden stakes of the palisade being to shift and shake.

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From burrows dug beneath both sets of walls, Rabbits; like those that I had fought along the wreckage-strewn highways, pour out and attack the exposed flanks of our archers moving in my direction. These rabbits wield a variety of weapons; swords and shields, spears, glaives, and slings. One whirls its sling around its head and releases its bullet into the head of one of the humans in the group of archers. Luckily, my Repel hadn’t worn out, so all that the archer experienced was a sharp blow to his head. He fell face first into the dirt and his invisible shield crumbles.

“Shit.” The longsword hanging at my waist sings as I pull it from its wooden sheathe.

The infantry we had set in the middle of both groups of archers — one group composed of humans, and the other of rebel Efrans, scramble to meet them head-on. The Rabbits were ready for this however; battering away their advances with raised shields, and quick kicks driving and holding them back as the stream of Rabbits keep pouring in from under the walls, and splitting into two columns to assail the archers, to hold the infantry, or to pour into the city to find those hiding within the large building at the edge of the city.

My father is caught in the melee, and I keep my eye on him as I rush forward to join the fray. The Rabbit facing him springs forward and lands a solid kick on the center of the shield he held. My father held his ground for the first, but the second sent him falling to the ground. He tries to push back up, but the Rabbit thumps on my dad’s chest, keeping him pinned to the ground. The large beast holds its spear over its head, with the point aimed downward toward his throat.

I rush forward; push through the crowds. The first stab bounces off the shield I had made for him, as does the second. The Rabbits try to stop me with their weapons and feet, but I lay them low with thrown elbows, heavy punches, and stabs with my kris. I leave the curved blade in the head of one of them just as the third stab shatters my father’s Repel. The creature raises its spear once more as I reach the two of them. With a strong, horizontal swing I lop the creature’s head free from its shoulders. It falls to the ground, and I wipe the blood on my torn and tattered jeans and help my father to his feet, and motion for him to follow me.