There's a form of premeditation called kindling- at least, that's what his master called it- when one focused on a happy memory before invoking a negative one. The practice was said to strengthen your mind's resilience, and allow one to go deeper into a negative memory before coming back. Saul woke up before the sunrise- even before the birds- and sat just outside his tent for three hours, kindling. As the sun rose over the horizon, and the camp slowly shook itself awake, the sun found Saul there, eyes closed, forming a piece of himself that he wouldn't lose, no matter how deep into his memory he went.

Saul was in this state when Anna woke, and she moved to sit within arm's reach of him, listening. Layers and layers of warmth were swirling over themselves in a kaleidoscope of emotion, and Anna couldn't look away from it in her mind's eye.

It reminded her of the ʕarčaban in her village, after their leaving ritual. They would sit for almost ten seconds per child, and each child would say something that they thought would bring them back. Her go-to phrase was, "Nn ʕarxas, biʡ ʁarħas än." Don't fall, I'm waiting for you.

It was this phrase that she repeated in her head, as Saul came back to himself, and turned to check on her. If he was surprised Anna sat so close, he didn't mention it.

"Well, Anna... this is the day." Saul stayed kneeling, turning to face her. His face looked heavy to Anna's eyes.

"So it is, ħadar. Any lessons? Before you come back?" Anna touched his knee gingerly.

"I have one." Saul looked out to the forest, beyond the no-man's-land. He nodded there. "If you ever need shelter, my home is there. Now, I know-"

Crack! Saul raised a hand to his reddening cheek, and Anna glared at him as if he had slapped her. "Don't speak such things! You'll come back! To speak on such things is to have peace. Don't! Promise me," Anna took his hands, and held them so tightly it hurt a bit, "Promise me, that when this is over, we'll have soup, and I'll ask you about all the strange things you humans do."

Saul smiled, squeezing her hands. "I promise, Anna. Ask every question you want. I may even answer them."

Anna laughed softly, dropping the intense look she had earlier, and sitting back. "That's all I want, ħadar. No more foolish 'lessons.'"

Saul stood, and, after another hug, he managed to persuade Anna to wear her shoes. They walked to the kitchen tent, which was thankfully already serving breakfast, and took a seat at an empty table. Saul was quiet as usual, and Anna was content watching everyone else get up. Ser Crowley walked to the kitchen tent soon after they had got their bowls, and decided to sit next to Saul.

"Tremonti." Ser Crowley nodded, taking a seat on the opposite side of him.

"Ser Crowley." Saul nodded back, sipping the broth from his bowl. "Up early with the rest of us, eh?"

Ser Crowley chuckled. "I'd have slept in, but I wouldn't want to get shown up by a man just out of retirement."

Saul laughed. "Touché. How'd the strategy meeting go?"

"Ugh, nightmarish. They were planning a multi-phase assault for forty minutes before I lost my patience and fixed it. The plan they have is good, though."

"It'll be simple, I hope?"

"Simple and effective. It'll be like fishing in a barrel." Ser Crowley leaned forward slightly. "You will be the crux of it, though. if your magic works as intended, this will be bloodless."

"It will work, Ser Crowley. I promise you that."

Ser Crowley gave him a long look, then sighed in relief. "Seeing that look in your eyes, I believe you." She stood up. "I should go, I need to touch base with my men. I'll see you at the west gate in an hour." She nodded to Anna, then paused. She glanced at Saul. "...You brought a child here?"

"There is nowhere else she is safer than near me." There was a challenge in that voice, and Ser Crowley was not keen to test it.

After the knight said her goodbyes, she left the pair in peace. For the next hour, they didn't speak much; what more was to be said? They simply sat, and enjoyed each other's company. In the final minutes before they prepared to leave, Saul left her with a smile, and she left him with a threat: "Don't forget your promise."

Saul got a set of ordinary soldier's armor at the outfitters, and wore his cloak of many pockets over the armor, like a cape. Despite his insistence on not needing "A target on his back," they found him a band for his arm signifying that he was a shaman.

Once they were all outfitted and in their uniforms (around 100 soldiers in all, excluding horsemen), they were called to attention, and began marching toward the fort in the distance. When they came within 400 yards, the demons began assembling in front of the fort. They halted, waiting for their move, and a messenger ran up to Saul. "Mr. Tremonti?"

Saul nodded. "Speak, quickly now."

"An order from Ser Crowley: 'go wild when you hear the horn.'"

Saul nodded again, a dark look passing over his face under his helmet. "Understood." He stood at attention where he was, pulling out a brown feather from his pocket.

Saul hated wearing armor. The plates rubbed together when his shoulders rose and fell, and the weight pulled down on him. He knew, too, that he would hate it more when he flew. He held the feather in his hand, and searched it for a moment of lift. The demons sounded a horn, and began running at the human company. Their positions were too thin, the demons thought. Stacked two to a line instead of three, the human battle line would be split like rips in paper, overwhelmed by the demons' superior strength. So what if they could surround us? They have no power.

Saul saw their enthusiasm from here, their battle drums booming across the plain, their leader watching on from the fort. He knew Ser Crowley was counting on their arrogance being their downfall, and when he heard the horn from his side, he knew it to be true. They would rue the day they decided to fight at Linwood.

At the sound of the Crowley's horn, Saul breathed deep, and channeled mana through the feather. Not an ounce of wind flew through the air, yet he floated up. The demons didn't notice until after the second volley of arrows, some pointing up to the sky at the man in the air.

From his perch in the sky, he could see the whole battlefield. The horseman were beginning to harry the sides, and would soon be in close combat; if he didn't equalize the numbers soon, this fight would be a massacre.

Still channeling the feather, he glimpsed inside himself at the thing, that twisted yellow flame, and fixated on it, taking it deep into himself. Next, when he was sure he encompassed all he knew of the flames- the fear, the horror, the agony of it- he poured out his mana into the world, making his fears reality.

And from his hands, the flames spread out like a dark-golden waterfall, shimmering with deadly intensity. Everywhere they touched the floor, there was no smoke, nor ash, yet the fire spread as if in the face of a great wind, running headlong into the demon's battle line. As soon as the flames reached the front line, the demon's charge halted. Every demon that touched the flames was consumed, and immediately fell unconscious. Their entire front line was eviscerated in seconds, and their rear guard was beginning to feel the flames as well. The rest scattered, running back towards the fort, or the forest, but were easy pickings for the horseman.

The battle was over! The cheers and relief from the human side was immense... but after a moment, one thing was certain: those yellow flames were still rushing out, towards fort Linwood in the distance. The soldiers looked on at a sea of unconscious demons and shimmering, smokeless flames, and began to worry.

The battle may have finished, but in Saul's mind, the battle wasn't nearly over. To him, he was there, back at that wyvern fight, watching the green lizard spew it's sickly yellow flames over them. He could feel it, too, rushing over him, the flames scoring his skin, eating away at his sense of self until he couldn't tell where he ended and the flames began. He conjured a wave of water to drown the flames and he, too, was drowning, swimming in vain through a trap in his own mind, and failing to surface.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Then he found the kernel that he'd prepared that morning. He brushed up against the feeling of arms surrounding him, and he could feel himself again. Liquid sunlight filled his veins, and he became more than he was before; he became the director of his nightmare. He chose to breathe; air filled his lungs as he gasped for breath. It was like being able to see after being blind for so long. Coming to himself, he became aware of the size of the sea of flames, his mana draining out of him like running water. With a savage yank and a yell, the flow of mana reversed, and the flames vanished, as if they never existed at all.

He floated down to a silent crowd, and the crowd spread from him, murmuring in fear. Ser Crowley rode up to him on her horse, yelling out, "Well, you lot, come on! You think these demons will be sleeping forever?!"

Even as they moved out to begin processing their new prisoners, Ser Crowley noticed an envoy run out from the fort, holding a flag. Putting him out her mind for now, she turned to Saul, and noted the shaking hands, clasped around something. She beckoned him closer and leaned down. "You did it." She looked into his eyes and found her triumph reflected.

Saul let out a shuddering breath, smiling. "I promised I would, didn't I?"

She just shook her head, turning to face the fort and the envoy coming up to the battlefield. "Can you do it again? If we need you."

Saul sighed, eyes drawn to the marble in his hand. "I'm not confident I can stop myself, next time."

"Then this gets tricky. Can you still your shakes, at least?"

"That's a simple enough task."

"Good. Then walk with me."

Ser Crowley and Saul both walked out to the envoy, and met him in the middle of the battlefield. Other than the unconscious bodies and the odd arrow in the ground, there was not an ounce of blood on the grass. It was unnatural to Crowley. She suppressed a shiver as the envoy stopped in front of them, face unreadable.

The envoy was a demon with a height of around six and a half feet, with a gaunt appearance and not a weapon to his name, dressed only in simple black trousers and a shirt. He bowed low, his long horns exaggerating the motion. Due to his height, the bow almost put him at Saul's height.

"...we yield." The demon spit out the words. "To any and all conditions. We offer whatever assistance you may require in reclaiming your fort, although it seems unnecessary." The demon rose and glared at Saul, who channeled the dead man's resolve again. Saul simply nodded; his face may well have been carved from stone.

Crowley clapped her hands. "Wonderful! It goes without saying that your people will be returned to you as soon as we man the fort. Until then, we will treat them with all due respect." She looked over the demon. "Now, as to the conditions of your surrender, and the ransom of our prisoners..."

Thus began one of the most heart-wrenching moments of his career. She bartered like a merchant speaking of her wares, and Saul didn't get the callousness of it all. How could she not feel?

Saul had about ten minutes of Crowley haggling with a more and more bereaved demon until he snapped.

"Enough!"

Crowley turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, shaman?"

"Have they not suffered enough? You're picking coins from the penniless!"

Crowley shot him a glare. "My men have died, shaman. You expect me to ignore their sacrifice?"

"I expect you to see with those eyes of yours!" Saul pointed angrily at an unconscious demon not two feet away from them. "Where's the invading force? All I see are starving, fearful people. Are we supposed to be able to count the ribs on a demon's stomach? It was a company, Ser, not a battalion!"

A flicker of guilt crossed her face. "What are you saying?"

"There's nowhere for them to go home to." At the demon's stricken face, Saul nodded, the pieces fitting together. "They were run out of their homes."

The demon nodded, looking at Saul as if chastised. "...Yes. I- we were forced out by ʡäšas-ʡüš, a leading tribe in our homelands." he murmured.

"So, to clarify, you have nothing, and this whole battle was POINTLESS?!" If looks could kill, Crowley's could.

The demon merely bowed his head.

Crowley took a minute, stepping back to gather herself. Saul took the moment to re-center himself as well, closing his fingers around the marble, and touching the edges of the memory with Anna. The demon started, sensing the movement of mana, then relaxed and glanced up at Saul with soft eyes.

"That memory reminds me of my ħar- my old village. It's very warm."

Saul chuckled. "It was. Anna is my sunlight."

The demon looked sharply at him. "Anna? Little ʡal?"

Saul met eyes with the demon. "Purple eyes, ram's horns, and too many questions?"

"She lives?" The demon looked like he could weep. "But how? I have so many questions!"

Saul simply smiled. "All will be answered in due time."

Crowley walked back to the the shaman and the demon standing much closer than before, speaking in hushed tones. She looked between them, and sighed. "Alright. We can settle this like rational people." She looked at Saul. "Without you, they'd still have the fort. What say you?"

Saul blinked, struck with an idea. "Why not let them live in Chaidon forest, to the east?"

"...you mean to let them live in your forest?"

Saul nodded. "Call it a hunch, but I believe they'd be good to us."

"I never expected you, of all people, to say that." Crowley paused. "How do you expect to persuade the Viscount?"

Saul shrugged. "He just gained 200 more subjects by doing nothing. His forest gains an extra 100 sets of hands for maintenance, labor, and security, and he doesn't have to worry about demon assaults from the north- at least from them, from what I understand."

Crowley gave him a considering look. "What about consequences? Do we just give them a blanket pardon? For assaulting and seizing a fort of ours?"

"They've suffered enough, Ser Crowley."

She sighed. "Would that bleeding hearts like yours didn't exist, my job would be so much easier."

"But your rest would not be nearly so easy."

"... you may have a point." Crowley paused, staring out at the forest. Saul just waited; he'd said his piece.

"Ah! Blast it, but I'll trust you today, shaman." Crowley sighed. "Langley's gonna give me so much trouble when I get back."

"There's always a cost, Crowley. We'll see what the next month brings."

Crowley nodded to the demon. "You heard us. We'll get the specifics squared away, but your people are to stay nearby while we set this all up. We'll provide food in the meantime." She gave him a look. "Don't mistake our kindness for weakness; we can do this battle again, if we must."

Crowley and Saul headed back to the encampment. Saul stopped channeling the dead man, and his steps slowed. Crowley gave him her shoulder.

"Come on, old man, don't keel over on me now!"

Saul chuckled, tasting ash on his tongue. "That time is coming, but not soon. There's too much to be done here."

Crowley sighed. "Don't remind me. I still have to figure out how to explain how my forest now has 200 more inhabitants. I expect you'll be there to persuade him?"

Saul nodded. "Don't worry, Crowley, I'll be your support."

"... It's Fiadh."

"Pardon?"

She looked away. "It feels too formal to hear you call me by my family name. I'm not that old yet."

Saul chuckled, and they made their way back in a companionable silence.