A week of travel had taken its toll on the troops. The prisoners were fed the leftovers of the army food, and were starting to show muscle degradation. Soon, they arrived at the gates of the village. The borders had been reinforced with troops that had been stationed in the small nearby villages before. Residents of those villages were ordered to burn their crops and evacuate to the provincial capital.

The days went by, and Florianus prepared his stronghold, assembling the battle troops. He would wait at Adachia, but expected the soldiers at the border to defend and capture the foreign invaders, especially the leader of the revolutions.

After six days of preparation, a messenger came, riding in haste through the forest and hills.

“Sir, they broke through the borders, our forces retreated!”

“How many?" he asked. “How many barbarians!”

“Thirty thousand.”

“We'll be waiting for them,” Florianus said, sure of his victory.

Most of the province had been mobilized in that time, bringing Thrachian cavalry, twenty thousand strong. He posted them over the hills and in the forests, creating a big contention camp after the river, making sure they had no access to it. A watchtower now towered over the village's smith shop. A curfew was set, violation of which resulted in imprisonment, in a different cell than the one where the prisoners languished. And Florianus waited.

Florianus did not care for inhumane conditions for his prisoners. He had commanded the construction of a proper prison. Human suffering was not his thing; death was, however, sometimes necessary.

The prisoners were housed in small cells beneath the ground of the old chieftain's dining hall. There, they rested and were fed leftovers from the army, again.

Their sight was pitiful, but Florianus was proud that they had finally been captured. He had to deal with disgruntled widows asking how they were doing. The old woman who was friends with Cladius begged to see her daughter from the beginning. Florianus refused.

In those days, he studied the books he took from the rebels. He procured a translation from the Hellenian text and the young boy’s writings. The language of the Gadalians was similar to Parzian, with which he was familiar. In the writings of the boy, he found nothing but squabblings of a man learning to read and write, and later, some mediocre pieces of poetry dedicated to the blonde woman.

But the other book was intriguing. The one containing the Seal of the Protector. A hexagram encased in a circle, with spiral arms and angles around it. He took the time to study it, although his reading of Hellenian was a bit rusty. Its title, according to the Hellenian book, was Seal of Containment. It said the God Mars had used it against the Dragon of the Sky. Yes, that had to be it. The rebels had intended to use its magical powers against him. Not if he used its righteous powers against them. After all, they were the true heirs of the Dragon, and that was how they called themselves.

He thought the circle was used to summon spiritual energy and curse their adversaries. He would have to keep it away, hoping they could not recreate it.

A knock echoed behind him.

“Sir, a message from the watchtower. The armies have been spotted west of the river. They'll be here shortly.”

Florianus scoffed; it was time.

“Come in!” he shouted, the door opened timidly, and a young soldier leaned in. “Get the prisoners,” Florianus said. “Chain them in the neck and arms, march them under an iron yoke, to the top of the hill. There, I shall negotiate with the barbarians.”

“Sire, but how do we—”

“Go, do not question me. This is the way we will deal with it.”

“I understand.” He nodded, and disappeared through the door. Florianus was left once again with the silence of his quarters.

That day, blood would be spilled. He assembled his equipment, he looked at the necklace with the Winged Disk, the sign of the triumph of order and righteousness. That night, righteousness had to win. He walked to his wooden stand and donned the bronze cuirass armour of his grandfather. The shape of a muscular torso was forged into it, with golden straps dangling from beneath, covering the skirts of his toga.

Lastly, he removed his battle helmet from the stand, and cupped it in his arms. He marched out of his office.

The city was deserted, except for the soldiers that guarded every street, making sure the women did not come out. A strangely fierce wind blew, ragging the purple and orange clouds at sunset, lifting up fallen leaves and howling with the trees.

Two rows of prisoners stood outside. Their bodies beaten, their clothes partly ripped. Their necks were tied and supported by an iron yoke, with chains on the sides that were handled by two sturdy soldiers.

Florianus walked toward them, inspecting the downtrodden eyes and fiery countenances.

“They're coming. And we’ll welcome them with iron and flame,” he said.

“I knew she would come!” Kassara shouted, gladly staring at the setting sun, where the first glimpses of the vast Barbarian army peeked at the edge of the horizon. Florianus looked at her.

“I did not address you.”

“Whoever you are,” Kassara muttered, looking up at him and fixing him with her dark eyes. “They will take this town. The gods are with us, they have been since the beginning. Their power is superior, their numbers are superior, and their skill is unmatched. You shall lose, so better yield yourself first.”

Florianus spat on the floor.

“I know those men. I know the sons of Hunaz. All they are looking for is gold that they will not have. Some of you, I shall give as an offering, but not you, nor the mute, nor the boy. The others may go.”

Some of them sighed, including the pregnant mother. He walked up to her and glanced with the corner of his eye.

“Your child will be raised by me,” he said. “He shall be raised in civilization and discipline. You should be thankful.”

“You monster!” the woman cried with all the energy she had left in her frail body.

“Monster? A monster would have killed it.”

“You don’t even know who you are!” the woman yelled. “You talk about civilization and barbarism, what is more barbaric than slaughtering an entire village. Taking my son away.”

“What do you know about civilization? Now . . . understand, in case, only in case they were to penetrate our lines, only then you shall be killed. If not, the plan is still the same. I shall send you to be executed. Either way, you die for your crimes.”

No one answered.

“Silence? Are those your final words to the man who captured you?"

“What do you want? Do you want us to thank you?" the tall traitorous boy muttered.

Florianus strode towards him. He stepped forward, looking at him in his weary eyes, now bulgy and sunken. He stepped back, as he reeked like a dead man.

He contained his breath.

“You are the lowest being on this planet. You were raised and fed by an honorable man. I cannot imagine how he feels.”

“Where is my grandfather?" Kassius asked.

“The old sorcerer? What do you care?"

“Tell me how he is. That’s all I need to know.”

“And my mother!” Irema shouted.

Florianus scoffed and turned his back on them, he ordered the soldiers to take them. They nodded and grasped the heavy chains.

“Tell us!” Kassius shouted. “I just want to know if he’s . . .”

And Florianus walked away, breathing deeply. His servants had his horse ready, black in color, short and sturdy, good for short range battle, unlike the huge stallions the barbarians raised. Its head and body were shielded by plate armour. Florianus held his lance in hand and spurred. The troops were ready. He rode downhill, passing by the sanctuary where the old man, the boy’s grandfather was under strict surveillance. He could not deny he felt a bit of pity for the young man. But he could not waste time on that. His troops were waiting, many forming around the village. He rode through the forest trail. From every angle, he could see the vast army that gathered against them. A foreign army of strange and frightening customs. A barbaric lifestyle and low honor and morality. They were truly barbarians.

He rode to the forefront, with Julius and other officers standing tall on their horses next to him. The Eagle stood beside their formations. To the left, there was a vast line of infantrymen and mounted elite cavalry. Behind them, a line of archers, the best in the province, some of Kaltanian extraction, some of the old Thrachian, already assimilated into the customs of the Empire, all ready to fight.

The barbarians came, with the first lines consisting of mounted archers. As always, they were incapable of coming up with other ideas or strategies. Their skills were developed to perfection but they were incapable of innovation.

With his hand raised, he advanced alone. The enemy army stopped; their steps and the sound of the hooves no longer echoed in the vast lands. Their generals advanced, followed by heralds, all holding the same triangular flag, and each with the flag of their unit.

They rode on and gathered at the front of the battlefield. Florianus and Julius advanced until they met. Four barbarian generals, as if they all represented different generations. Or maybe they were from the same family, as they all looked similar. All dark and swarthy, all broad-faced, their eyes with the same attractive but unfamiliar slant. Their beards were all sparse and weak.

"Men of Hunaz. I am Florianus, descendant of the house of Jove, and Overseer of this Province's defense."

"Are you the best they could find?" the youngest general asked, of regular stature and no facial hair. "I do not mean to disrespect, but we expected a better welcome. Your border troops did not even hold us for one day. What do you think, Gharkan?"

"Yes," another young general said, this one short and swarthy. "They're less than amateurs. I'm frankly quite disappointed. Is this the most powerful Empire on Earth? Well, it looks like it's a bit emaciated lately. What do you say, old man?"

"Well, the standards have frankly decreased," said another general about Florianus' age.

Florianus took a deep breath, trying not to lose his cool. They were bluffing, nothing more.

"How many men did we lose on the border?" said the one called Gharkan. "Did you count?"

"Oh, yes, we lost about forty people. They were all slaves, so they don't count."

Florianus chuckled.

"I believe we have nothing to discuss," Florianus said. "I was intending to let you march in peace. I just needed the blonde girl. I could give you three of the prisoners and let you go. See? They're at the top of the hill."

"We don't care for prisoners," Gharkan said with a grin. "Us? Go away? Do you mean we came all the way here for nothing? No way!"

Florianus cleared his throat.

"Where is the blonde?"

"The blonde? You're going to have to try harder," said Gharkan. "A forty-year-old man going crazy for a sixteen-year-old girl. What is this? Aren't there more girls in this Empire of yours?"

"Stop bluffing and tell me, are you willing to negotiate?"

"Negotiate? That's for sissies."

"So be it. I will sew your mouths shut after we're done.""Well, make the trip worth it, flower man!" cried the young Gharkan. Florianus clenched his teeth and fists as he rode back to camp.

"Sir, they're only bluffing!" Julius said.

"I know, but I'll make them swallow their words," Florianus said, teeth clenched.

Florianus could not be intimidated. He had better weapons and more men. No, he had not lost a battle in a decade, and he had earned his position through good strategy. He could not lose. Quietly, he returned to his post, raising his hand and making a gesture. At the same time, the enemy raised their bows, ready to release their arrows.

Florianus' commanders were quick. Their equipment was swift.

They released; great rocks and balls of cast iron fell through the sky. Florianus' catapults launched them like falling stars, crushing the barbarians like forest cockroaches.

The enemy arrows were released, and Florianus shielded his head and his horse's under his shield. The defensive phalanxes had already formed, saving many from the attack.

A line of archers hid behind the first mounted section, strategically waiting for a sign. The commanders signaled, and fiery arrows flew from the hills like celestial punishment, destined to seek vengeance upon the enemy. The arrows pierced through their padded shoulders, igniting their capes and tunics, setting carriages ablaze. Soon after, the barbarians unleashed their wicked arrows, aiming above the second line of soldiers.

Florianus knew their strategy well, they knew where to strike to penetrate the second line. Florianus held his shield high, along with the cavalry also formed to defend. The onslaught of arrows pounded his shield.

"Again," he said, lowering his shield once more. And the archers prepared again. Another volley of arrows was released from the hills. Florianus smiled as he witnessed dozens of barbarians falling to the ground or riding with their breastplates on fire, others rolling down, and horses collapsing.

Once again, he heard the thundering rumble of the catapult, and balls of fire fell upon the fleeting horsemen, crushing groups of them to the ground.

And yet, the barbarians continued to ride forward. In the first row, Florianus could distinguish lancers and javelin throwers. On the side, along the hill, he saw mounted archers.

Their archers shot for a third time, targeting the front row, and another handful of barbarians fell, their bodies crashing down from their horses, their beasts collapsing to the sides.

But the barbarian cavalry advanced, riding on, almost ready to clash against the first row of Itruschian defenders. Florianus waited behind the first section, knowing it was time to employ different strategies."Tortoise!" Florianus shouted. The infantrymen on the sides got ready, rushing to stand ahead of the cavalrymen, shoulder to shoulder, shield to shield, holding the pila as spears between them. Every second soldier held the shield over their heads, to defend himself and his comrades from projectiles, waiting for the enemy.

"Throw!" he shouted.

The soldiers holding the shield horizontally lowered their left hands and threw their short javelins at the incoming barbarians. Florianus could not see how many had fallen, but he was confident in the strategy. The barbarians started to shoot their arrows from there. Florianus saw how some of his men in the first line succumbed, being replaced by the ones holding their shields up. Soon after, the barbarian horde clashed against their shields, when now the first line of defence threw their javelins at the riders. The real battle had begun. A barbarian pushed his spear through one of the soldier's skulls; it came out the other way, dripping blood. He retrieved his spear and rode triumphantly through the defending legionaries. He had been the first to break through. But the second line of legionaries was waiting, and a brave soldier threw his spear, piercing the savage's neck.

A few Itruschian heroes perished, making way for the sons of Hunaz. The second row of legionaries defended their position bravely, thus wasting the enemy's patience and energy. The great warriors of Itruschia kept assembling, strengthening the second row, but the invading horde was too numerous and wild. They would soon pass through the first two rows. Florianus turned his horse around and rode out through the stone bridge, pulling the reins and turning around to ride toward the Itruschian cavalry. They awaited, their eyes serious, rather sad, observing how their comrades succumbed. Still, there were a few more rows of legionaries defending the riverside. The enemy had to get through the bridge. They were more numerous; they could not lose to those barbarians.

Stolen story; please report.

But still, Florianus feared what had happened fifteen years ago. Yes, nomads had proven themselves in battle before. Perhaps he had underestimated them.

He clenched his teeth. Yes, he had. So foolish of him, he should have requested more assistance. He would be humiliated. If he died, he would be remembered as the man who lost Adachia.

He wouldn't allow it.

He rode furiously, gazing at his mounted troops. A long line of warriors, javelin attached to their saddles, long spears in hand along with their shields."Brave men of Itruschia. Fifteen years ago, a hundred thousand barbarians swept over our borders and massacred millions. They rode to our great capital. They burned down our villages, raped our women, and murdered our children. Our late general Larius and I both lost brothers and dear friends to those savages. I lost my only son. Now it's time to fight. Ours is the greatest line of defense. Five thousand of us, with superior shields, superior strategy. Even if we are to die, I swear upon this iron sword that they shall not pass! Send these words to the rest of the legion."

"Aye!" they responded, their spears held high. The centurions rode on and shared the speech with the farthest sections.

Then, their enemy passed through the second line and poured into the bridge. From above the Sanctuary to the Hero, hidden in the bushes, another line of archers shot at the wicked barbarians. A line of infantrymen awaited on the other shore, their shields clasped together, their javelins flying through the air and piercing their uncouth armors.

Florianus saw them attempt to cross over to the other side, through the other bridge. And yet, they did not know the ditches and traps he had set for them.

It was time to advance.

The battle raged on. Florianus knew they had been weakened. And then, he saw what he had waited for long - the legionaries were pushing them back to where they came from. They marched in close formations, and the barbarians started to disperse. It was a sign that the battle was not absolutely lost.

But the enemy reformed their ranks and attacked once again, this time, they pierced through. The phalanx was completely obliterated, they rode on, their mounted archers quickly taking down the ones posted above the sanctuary.

"Ready!" he said, calling on his cavalry unit. "Charge!" he shouted, and he led, his spear forward, ready to meet the enemy lancers and archers. Both armies clashed on the small piece of charred land, but why . . . How could it be . . . Florianus feared their blades. Their arrows too precise, even on their mounts, pierced through the vital organs of Itruschian warriors. Their spears were too fierce. And they kept riding, impaling the fallen ones, destroying the lancers and cavalrymen. The defense of Thrachia was falling.

As their cavalry fell back, Florianus and his men retreated to the hills. He was one of the last, as he had been at the very front of the battle. The barbarians scattered, trying to reach the heights of the valley, and then, the furtive arrows of the Itruschian elite pierced through them. From the forest, from the heights, the Itruschian men held their ground. Florianus smiled when he saw the black spears impale their enemies. They scrambled towards the hills, bit by bit, a few of them did, still engaging in battle with the Itruschians left behind, who defended the path that led to the hills with all their might.Florianus smiled as they fell like flies, desperately trying to reach the village. A black-top hill ballista was fired directly at one of the middle-aged generals, impaling his ugly face against a tree.

The barbarians were already starting to weaken. They were weak in those areas. The phalanx strategy had weakened them, making it no longer easy to push through.

"Surrender!" he shouted from the hilltop.

A disgruntled barbarian aimed and shot at him, but he quickly blocked with his shield. Their bluff had been exposed as a lie. Florianus saw fear, frustration, and rage disfiguring their faces, while the Glorious Itruschian Empire prevailed, alongside their sons and daughters from the Holy Peninsula, the Suevian, Kaltanian, Habeshian people, and the people of the Three Rivers.

"Hail our great Empire!" Florianus cried.

And then, the earth shook. Florianus' horse stumbled, raising its nose as if a catapult had struck the great Titan holding the earth on his shoulders. Florianus turned around. The battle below seemed to slow down as both friend and foe paused their blows and turned around to see what had happened. Had a star fallen? Florianus had heard of such accounts, of great craters dug in the ground and sometimes of great earthquakes that split the earth in two. He remembered there had been an earthquake a few months prior.

When he turned, he felt as if his soul had escaped from his feet and left him alone. A few people fainted on his side, but he just raised his eyes to ensure that what he was seeing was not a delusion or a dream.

A huge creature stood in the midst of the village. From there, it looked as tall as a mountain. Florianus' heart started pounding as if in a trance, and the being that towered over the trees and houses seemed strangely familiar, like a fragment of his own memories. Its flesh was bronze-colored, its muscles imposed upon each other like segmented armor, and its face resembled a helmet. No eyes, nose, or mouth could be seen, only a void shaped like a cross.

What was that?

The creature grasped the trunk of a birch and pulled it out like a farmer harvesting carrots. With it, he swept the ground around him. Although partially hidden by buildings and trees, Florianus could not miss the armored human bodies cast into the air like dandelions blown away by a strong wind.

"It's the giants! They were right!" one of the infantrymen by his side shouted, falling to his knees. "We are doomed."

Julius was pale. He could not believe it.

Florianus stepped back, his mind rattling inside his brain. What should he do? Should he order their soldiers to run? No, a real warrior, a proud Itruschian, a man of honor, had to fight.

"Archers, defend the line against the barbarians. We shall deal with that creature. Horsemen with me, let us march on."

"Sir," a soldier whispered by his side."I need six archers—you, you, also you. Not you, you. Let's go, quick!"

They passed through the main road, and Florianus opened his eyes in awe as the creature kicked down the barbarian sanctuary, tearing the roof away and crushing the pillars. From the high boulder, Florianus saw the priest and a soldier crouching like scared animals.

"Archers, aim at the beast!" Florianus shouted.

The archers prepared their bows and shot at the beast's head. Their arrows flew and crashed against its massive chest, bouncing off and breaking in two. The creature did not flinch.

***

"Grandfather!" Kassius screamed, feeling his throat tighten up as the creature pulled the roof out of the shrine. Dust spread through the air, and the pillared walls tumbled as if made of clay. A creeping fear pierced his heart like an iron spear. His grandfather, old, wise, but fragile, had probably stood beneath the shadow of those marble pillars.

"Well," Kassara said, strangely calm. "Hell, I did not want to die like that. Trampled like an ant. It's terrible."

"Damn, damn, damn them," Kassius yelled again, gritting his teeth. Even if he were not chained, his body would still be paralyzed in shock and fear. He knew about giants, and he had survived one at the beginning of the year. It had been only luck. His grandfather, if he could only run downhill, take his hand, and run with him to the old charred forest. His mind struggled to find an answer but gave it not to him.

"I'll be damned," Kassara said, her pale face unflinchingly fixed on the beast. As was everybody's.

"It's fine, Kassius," she continued. "It was time for your old man to escape this miserable world. Lucky for him."

"We're . . . probably not going to die, Kassara."

"That giant . . . You said he flew away," Raxana said, craning her neck to get a better look at Kassius. "Why on earth would he come back?"

Kassius took a deep breath.

"I have no idea," he growled. "No damn idea. Oh gods, gods, gods, no . . ."

"I am sorry, Kassius. That doesn't look good," Raxana said.

"Oh hell, it doesn't."

Kassius pursed his lips. All that traveling, all those victories and triumphs, amounting to nothing. Becoming an ant. It couldn't be. He tried to look ahead to the future. Yes, he had seen more things, more visions. There was something else destined for him and them. But how? His father had probably died. That, he had not expected. For days he had yearned to see him. He had been locked up in a cell so near to his grandfather's shrine and hoped, at least for a miracle, to give him a last look, maybe even a word of thanks before his demise.

But Kassius knew, where there was faith, there was hope.

"Keep praying," Kassius said. "There must be a way to escape."

The beast took a step back and stepped on a house, crushing it completely."

"That's where my cousin lives . . ." Raxana said.

"Stop him, Kassius, my mother is around," Irema said. "I think I just lost my grandfather. Hell, if only he had left the place . . . If only he knew."

And then, a catapult rang and launched a huge rock at the giant's face. Its head rattled back, like a man eating a sucker punch. But it did not even knock it out.

"It looks like they made him really mad."

"Blast . . . Damn them all to Hades. How could they be so stupid?" Kassius yelled, his breath agitated.

The guards who were behind them held their spears.

"What, you knew about this?"

"Yes!" Kassius yelled.

"What . . . Did you summon it, you damn sorcerer?" The soldier pressed his steel lance against Kassius' stomach. "I heard you could do magic, that damned slave talked about it?"

Kassius gasped.

"Well, no . . . But the stars were clear to see, of course I knew. They rose three months ago, when Larius died."

"You bastard!" the soldier said. "You unleashed this upon us."

The earth shook again. Kassius turned his head, the giant had jumped down into the old burnt forest, between both armies. That catapult strike had not been pleasant. The giant waved his arms, like the blades of a windmill, swinging and throwing horses and men alike. Kassius watched in fear as the giant stepped on men and beasts, leaving nothing but puddles of flesh and bone.

"Can you expel him? Sorcerer?" cried the other soldier.

"I . . . Yes! I can."

"How?"

"Let me go."

"We can't let him go," the short guard said. "They'll open our guts and hang us like traitors."

"Kill you? You won't even survive."

He sighed.

"I say we kill you, what if you're controlling the beast."

"What? That's absurd."

The soldiers' sweat poured.

And then, a rider approached, its horse short but sturdy. It was Florianus. He dismounted, his short sword glistening in his hand with the last ray of the sun.

"Sir, " the soldiers straightened and stood tall. "This young..."

"There's no time," Florianus shouted. "Kill them quickly. We can't let them survive."

He approached, with his blade out, and stood in front of Gitara, looking down at her.

"I did what I could for your son . . ." he said, looking into her eyes.

Gitara glared at him, clenching her teeth. Suddenly, she leaned in and spat on his face.

"You ungrateful whore!" Florianus shouted, wiping his face with his naked wrist.

"Overseer!" Kassius yelled, and started talking as fast as he could. "Listen to me! There's a secret refuge beneath the forest."

"What?" Florianus stopped short.

"That's the way we hid from you all this time," Kassius continued. "Please, release us, and we will take you there. It's the only way to survive!"

"You disgusting scum you did it." Florianus clenched his teeth in rage, he looked offended. "Release him, only him!" he cried.

"Wait, release the rest of my people, please," Kassius said.

Florianus giggled like a child, then frowned like an angry parent.

"You are in no position to negotiate, foolish boy," he scowled.

"Sir, please." The guards released Kassius from his shackles, and he fell forward, barely managing to regain his balance.

"Please let them go," Kassius said.

"I'll let them rot in here," Florianus hissed. "Now tell me how to get to that refuge. Quickly! We do not have all day."

"I won't go without my friends!" Kassius said.

"Do you prefer to die then?" Florianus said.

The earth shook again, and they all gazed into the battlefield, where hundreds were mercilessly crushed by the creature. Kassius' heart pounded fast, and fear glimmered in the gaunt faces of both soldiers and prisoners.

"Go, Kassius," Kassara said. "We will be fine. You can continue our struggle."

"Stop being foolish; his sentence shall not be overturned," Florianus said, mocking Kassara's optimism.

"Lead me there," Florianus ordered.

"I won't go without them!"

Florianus snapped his fingers at the guards, and they walked toward Kassius. One of them quickly punched him in the stomach. Kassius fell to his knees, gasping. He clenched his fists, grabbing rocks from the floor, and looked up.

"Make him come!" Florianus said.

"It's a lot of walking!" Kassius muttered in pain before being interrupted by a right haymaker to his cheek that knocked him to the side. Then, a kick to his ribs felt like a hammer tearing through his bone.

"Leave him alone!" Kassara screamed.

Another kick brushed the back of his head, followed by another in the stomach.

"You fools! He is the only one who can save you all!" Kassara said. "You're killing him. If you make him fall unconscious, he won't be able to help you."

The soldiers suddenly stopped.

"Ask your commander if he'll take you to the refuge! He won't!" Kassara yelled.

"You will take us, won't you?" one of the soldiers asked, looking at Florianus.

Florianus took a deep breath, continually looking back at the giant monster tearing through his armies.

"Yes, yes, pick him up. Let's do it."

"Listen," Kassius muttered, wiping the blood off his face. "There are three or four refuges we can take. Let them go, as they all know the way. Try to get as many people as you can. But let us take our loved ones."

Florianus clenched his teeth.

"Fine, let them all go."

"Yes." The soldiers quickly disengaged the locks of their shackles, and the company was free again.

"Fine!" Kassara said, stretching her neck and arms. "Kasha, if you will, let me take charge."

Kassius nodded.

"You," she pointed at Kassius. "Tor, Raxana, and Aliya, go to the forest. I will take them to the refuge beneath the shrine, and Raxana will take them to the cave."

"Agreed," they said. Kassius limped out, attempting to stand straight. "Let's go. We have the quickest way."

"You say we go to the forest? That's ridiculous," Florianus said."Follow me!" Kassius said, limping down from Alana's house, passing through the bushes and trees, leaving the village behind. From there, he could see the Itruschian archers assembled behind a wall, beneath which lay a long stretch of charred land. Florianus, who was riding below, looked back at the archers. They had to defend themselves; they still had to protect their area. How could he run away like that? Who could he save?

"Sir, let's save ourselves," Kassius muttered. "Later, we can find out how to defeat them."

But the giant was sweeping across the land, killing dozens with a single step.

"You know what?" Kassius asked. "Let's all go down to the shrine."

"What do you mean?" Florianus asked. "Is there a refuge there?"

"Yes, most of it has been locked, but yes."

"Alright, let's get out of here," Florianus said. They turned around, running and riding back to the village.

"We're all going to the shrine," Kassius said.

"Alright," Kassara said. "You're correct, there is no other option now."

As they kept going down, they saw hundreds of women rushing down along with Kassara.

"You may think you and these women are safe, but I will punish you all after this," the commander said to Kassius. He did not answer.

Florianus spurred on his horse, leaving them behind, making way for himself through the crowd. He would be the first.

"Make way, women!" he cried.

As the battle raged below, he pulled the reins. He faced the giant, swearing he would not die a coward.

He trotted to the side, where his men were warring against the beast. They were to die. If he lived, he would live as a coward. That, he would not allow himself to be.

***

As the Overseer's horse neighed, something fell off his bag. Kassius ran to grab it; it was not the book he took from Tor. It was an older volume encased in leather straps. Whatever it was, it had to be valuable. He grabbed it quickly and rushed towards the refuge.

The shrine had been completely defaced, but there was no sign of his grandfather. Now, hundreds of people had rushed there and were descending the steps of the secret passage that had remained hidden for ages. Raxana had been smarter and tied the curtains and ropes to the grand pillars, helping the sturdier women to get down into the tunnel.

Kassius saw Irema embracing her mother. He pushed through and saw dozens of women descending. Each would have to take their turn, and it would take some time. He also wondered where the general had gone.

As it would take him time, he took a look at the book. It was all in cuneiform, an ancient language, too ancient. He flipped to the pages and was bewildered when he recognized the sigil of the Sword. He had done it before when enchanting the sword.He flipped through the pages, looking at more illustrations. Some of them were of ancient dragons encircling the earth, others of heroes with luminous swords, and one was especially interesting. The same sigil, the hexagram and the cross, a man standing in the center, his arms raised. The next page showed a city built upon the symbol. What could that mean? He could not understand the language.

Suddenly, he fell to his knees, along with all the people who had not managed to grab hold of the pillars.

The beast was at the center of the village, its iron face rigid and frightening. It stepped forward, sinking the ground beneath its feet. The women and warriors screamed in fear.

The cavalry rushed toward it, standing in its way. Kassius saw Florianus in the front, holding his battle spear in hand. He could hear him curse the giant and call on the name of "a hero who will come". Florianus pulled his arm back and threw his spear up, aiming at the center of the beast. It hit its target, sinking for an instant, but the beast pulled it out in rage, recoiled its leg, and kicked Florianus' horse with him. His body flew many yards, scratching and peeling the ground. He landed close to the entrance, where the women who were once oppressed by him were paralyzed in fear.

He tried to stand up but could not.

And the beast sprung up, landing with its legs open on each side of the shrine. He waved his hand above them, huge like a giant pendulum of rock. Kassius crouched, barely missing its huge grasp. Screams echoed around him. People were now scrambling out of the shrine through windows and pushing through.

And then, the huge hand sunk a finger into the tunnel.

It pulled the ground open, rock and debris descending over the tunnel, where now dozens of women covered their heads in fear. The giant hand descended again, pulling the earth and stone, pulling the roots of the trees, destroying the tunnel, unveiling a secret chamber.

"Grandfather!" Kassius screamed when he saw his forefather, dressed in white, his white beard unruly and dirty, way thinner than before. He was standing in front of an altar, his hands up high.

"You shall not pass!" he screamed.

"Grandfather!" Kassius yelled, but Aranus the Elder remained still, unmovable even when the rest fled, and the giant hand reached for him and pulled him out and crushed him like a bug underfoot.

"No!" Kassius screamed with all his might, as anger and tears broke through, and he wept.

The last javelins and arrows, both from barbarian and Itruschian, perpetually aimed at the beast. Most of the Hunatians had fled, but the ones who remained fought with their lives.

He crawled out, as the beast dug below the altar, into the earth.

The beast that had killed his grandfather. Not even the Itruschians had.He turned around, and his vision revealed Kassara, her body still muscular but emaciated, her hair shining like black onyx under the flames that surrounded them. Her right hand wielding a sword, and beneath her, Overseer Florianus. Tor and Irema observed with rage in their eyes.

"Kassara, no!" he screamed and ran toward them, tears already becoming sticky on his face.

"He's a murderer."

"Stop, stop!" He knelt beside him. "Listen! Can you read The Elder Script?"

"What is this?" he muttered through drops of blood emerging from his mouth.

"This! What does this say?" Kassius asked, presenting the book, the page that showed the man inside the circle.

Florianus struggled to his feet as the beast scavenged through the tunnels behind them.

"The . . . Seal of the Protector . . . A city was built beneath it. To protect men from monsters of iron and stone."

"Tor!" Kassius said. "I need you to draw this sigil."

Tor nodded.

"You're the best artist. Let's do this."

Tying a rope to Florianus' neck, Tor and Kassius stood outside. They pulled the rope out and drew the circle just as big as they could fit inside the fallen pillars. Then, Tor drew the first triangle, from one pillar to two on the side. In the meantime, the figure lifted its metallic neck, turning around. It noticed them.

"Tor, faster!" he cried.

"He's finished the squares," Irema announced, holding on to her mother.

"No!" Kassius shook his head. "Can you write on the rock?"

Tor shook his head.

Kassius took a deep breath. The beast was done. It was crushing the riders that stood in his way. It would lock their eyes on them soon. It was too late to escape.

Kassius pulled out Florianus' sword.

He took a deep breath.

He lifted the gladius with a sudden and intense impulse not to do it. He gathered strength and smote his own elbow with the sword. He growled, gritting his teeth together, and blood started pouring like a stream. He lifted the sword on his right once more and smote his own arm again, with a scream that could have torn his throat in two.

He growled again, as the arm tumbled on the floor in a pool of blood. Part of the bone popped out, red and grotesque.

As if in a dream, he lifted it with a trembling right hand. He fell on one knee and faced Tor, who was as white as snow.

"You can write it with this," he muttered and threw his arm across the floor.

Tor nodded. He grabbed the arm and moved it across the floor, walking, letting the bloody arm drip like a brush with wet paint.

Around him, he could hear Kassara's laughter, as he fell on his head and squeezed every muscle of his body, as the greatest pain he had ever felt surged within him.

The beast looked back. It seemed to recognize the shape.

It growled so loud it penetrated the depth of Kassius' ears and vibrated within his brain.

Tor stood on the other side, his hand shaking as he drew an angle with blood.The beast ran out of the tunnel, making the ground tremble with its steps. Kassius glanced at its hands, which held some kind of treasure chest. It was encased in black, shiny metal and was as large as a tree.

The beast hurled toward them, and the ground shook beneath its feet, as if frightened by its might.

A blue light emerged from the ground around Kassius, blinding him for an instant.

Kassius pushed his head back.

"Come in, come in!" Kassara said, and the women around her glanced in fear from the pillars where they hid. "Enter the circle!"

The beast attacked again, crashing its head against the wind. Once again, the blue light was seen for the blink of an eye, forming in the ground, following the lines of the sigil, and rising up like a barrier around them. It was built with ancient magic.

More people started pouring into the circle. The beast attempted to attack again, but the angles around him struck him like lightning, and the magic wall, visible for seconds only, seemed to extend to the heavens.

"You did your best," Kassara's soft voice rang out behind him, but darkness circled him like murderous stalkers. He leaned on his knee, panting like a drowning man.

"And I thank you," Kassara said. "Now, because of you, we are all safe in here."

His energy seemed to drain from below, and then his head hit the ground.