The dust enshrouded all, dust climbing thick and high, blown forth by the winds, and in it rode man and beast, and more, for as Ivkarha rode ever onwards, it appeared to her that around her she could see riders upon the horses. Not of flesh and blood were they, but ghostly apparitions of smoke and sand and dust, and in their hands were pale swords, ghosts of the dead, riding once more.

As one rode passed, he saluted her with his sword before plunging on, and before him loomed an enemy soldier. The pale sword slashed and the soldier fell, yet no wounds were seen upon him, no blood spilt. He simply fell and was gone, disappearing into the swarming dust.

Ivkarha reined n her horse, slowing it own as she looked about, seeking order in the chaos around them.

Aedmorn she saw nearby, and he too had halted his reckless charge as the cloud and battle took on a life of its own, and it seemed to here that where his horse went greenery bloomed, grasses springing forth in the barren wastes.

More, there was a presence within the storm of sand and dust, a presence vast and enduring, and she could feel its hate for those it hunted, a hunger almost, yet a sense of deep loss and sadness, all mingled together.

The storm swept by them, leaving them alone once more, but for the bodies of the slain about them, and yet onwards the storm continues, north across the plains, chasing those fleeing.

A look of profound adoration was upon the face of Aedmorn as he watched it go, hounding at the heels of Aisan Avar as he fled. “Did you not see it?” he asked of Ivkarha, “Did you not feel it?”

She frowned at that, the pains returning once more to her body. “I felt…” she began. “I do not know what I felt. Only that the storm was alive.”

“Aye, and more than alive. The very gods rose with us this day,” he told her, his one open eye bright. “Life and death together, riding with us.” He shook his head at it. “It is a wonder and we have been blessed.”

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“How can it be?” she asked. “Rare is it that Az-Ashar so openly involves himself in the affairs of men.”

“Aye, it is so with the Green Goddess too, but this goes beyond the affairs of just men, for our foe targets not just us but our gods as well. That is an affront that can not be countenanced. But look, our deeds have had results this day.”

Then did Ivkarha look upon which Aedmorn had seen, and the remnants of Aisan Avar’s army was in retreat, having seen their master in full flight from the unnatural storm, and their hearts were no longer in the battle. Back they streamed, northwards across the arid planes, and Langan’s army let them go, for they were too exhausted, too depleted to chase.

Slowly Aedmorn and Ivkarha rode to re-join them, wearied now beyond measure. They found an army that had no hear to celebrate a victory, for the losses had been high, too high, the dead more numerous than the living.

“It is well that we won,” said Langan when they found him, a stout blonde haired man with grim grey eyes, “For at least we shall have peace for time, but at cost too terrible. The bravest of our people are no more, yet our foe suffered worse.”

“The men of the cities are numerous,” Aedmorn noted, “And they can suffer such losses better.”

Langan nodded, his face hard. “It may be so, but that day is yet to come. These men of the cities will need time to lick their wounds, and it may be that even the dog Aisan Avar shall not survive such a defeat. It gives us time to plan, to seek out new friends. But for today we must honour those that have fought and have fallen, to remember their names.”

Thus did the army, weary in soul and body, collect up their fallen, and over them their raised a great cairn to honour their names, and the swordsongs of old were sung, their names remembered to the gods. Long into the day they laboured, until the night fell and the fires of their camps and the burning bodies of the enemy dead dotted the plains, like the stars in the skies, until the morning came again, and silence was upon the land.

Then did Aedmorn and Ivkarha gathered up what remained of their force, much reduced, and bade farewell to Langan. “We shall meet again,” Aedmorn promised. “We have our own journeys to make, but if the needs arise, send word to us and we shall come again.”

“Where now do you journey?”

“Who can say,” Ivkhara told him. “We travel where the roads go and he gods lead us.”

“Then go and the roads be smooth before you.”

And so they rode off once more, leaving the site of the terrible battle behind them, riding towards new deeds and wonders.