Tenthé was falling. He probably should have thought this through a little better. Not the first time that regret had crossed his mind.

The world was far below, and he had a few moments before his current situation would become serious. He reviewed his interaction with the Magister. A very important detail was that this latest resurrection hadn’t hurt at all and hadn’t used any of his bodies. Along with the other painless instance after Turtle had fireballed him to nothing, he figured he had enough clues to find a better way to come back. Something to work on when he wasn’t quite as pressed for time.

Speaking of Turtle, he pulled up his sleeve to examine his arm. The tattoo was gone! He probably had the Magister to thank for that. That was good because he was running out of things to use for hands. Mostly everything he had left would look kind of weird. Or rather, weirder. The hard-to-hide kind of weird.

Because he had spotted the City when he was with the Magister, he had an idea of where he had to go. Which turned out to be an issue. After a few attempts, he found shear was lacking enough oomph to significantly affect his path or speed, and he was falling fast. Really fast. Plus, he had to keep healing himself, just like he was stuck underwater and couldn’t breathe. Which probably meant there wasn’t any air, but how that could be, he didn’t know. A more important detail was, without air, he wasn’t able to use it to slow himself.

But, in spite of these few significant issues, he was still pretty darn proud of himself. He hadn’t had to lean on the Magister to let him go. He’d figured out that where she’d put him was like a trap, some little space pocket. All he’d needed to do was swallow some of the magic that was keeping it going, and pop! He was free.

Of course, that had led to his current predicament. He was a lot higher than the last time, and falling much faster. On the plus side, he was starting to feel some wind, but it was making him hot, so he threw up a shield, which immediately caused him to start spinning and flipping.

In-between the more violent bouts of buffeting, he managed a few versions of his shields and found that shape mattered, but he was running out of time to try things. With a bit of hope, he made a big round shield, and, after slamming into it, discovered he had slowed considerably. If he stayed in the middle and carefully shifted his weight, he had some ability to steer, although he lost it occasionally and had to dissolve and recreate the shield.

After some experimentation, he was managed to make his way toward the City. With more practice, he might be able to fly even better than a bird.

And he was having fun!

The City Proper was still a tiny blob below, and he was moving so fast that his fine control was poor, but he could do really large spirals. He was quite happy with how things were going.

Well, until he crashed into the City shield. He hit so hard the barriers to the City actually bent, then rebounded, sending him flying. It was probably the hardest he’d ever been whacked in a long time. Even so, the damage was nowhere near enough to send him to another body, but it wasn’t a joke, either. The collision broke nearly all of his bones and ruptured every organ. Fortunately, his reserves had recovered, so he had tons of energy to heal himself with as he tumbled through the sky, heading to somewhere in the Wilds.

Soon enough, he had healed enough to recast his big shield and turn himself toward the City. As he approached, he fired up his magic sight and dropped the shield. With his marginally better control of shear, he should be able to avoid another collision.

Shortly later, he was bobbing up and down a safe-ish distance from the shields above the City walls. From here, he could look down into the City, which resembled an assembly of toy buildings obscured by clouds.

Instead of forcing his way in, he decided the main gate was a better choice. Plus, he could find out what had happened to the army and the Horde that had been battling outside the City.

As he descended, he kept trying to spot Turtle. It was hard to make out anything because of the clouds of… smoke, maybe? They were interesting, being regularly lit up by flashes, along with bouts of flame shooting across the sky. The flames were the same color as the fireballs the god had made, but instead of staying in a ball, they were stretching out and spattering as if hitting something.

As he got lower, he found that in addition to the smoke, ribbons and streams of orange cubes flowed and drifted back and forth everywhere. A little black dot emerged above the clouds and resolved into the turtle, spitting fireballs. As Tenthé approached the top of the walls, he could see the fireballs were aimed at the zillions of cubes. The cubes would be destroyed, but as the fireballs continued on, the fire would spread out, and instead of burning up, the cubes absorbed the splashes of flame and made more cubes. As far as he could tell, it looked like there were more cubes being created than lost.

Tenthé was startled as Turtle flashed past the wall where he was watching. The god was being chased by streams of cubes darting about and hitting him. It was hard to be sure, since Turtle was spinning and dodging and spitting fireballs, plus everything was obscured by the cubes and smoke, but Tenthé could swear the god was a little smaller and his shell was pitted and scored. Assuming it was the same day he had died, in a fairly short time, Isabell had managed to do a lot more damage to Turtle than he ever had.

And, although watching was fun, Tenthé wanted to get inside and find out what was really going on. Shearing down, he saw a huge crowd, and as he got close, it was obviously made up of Horde only. No sign of the city’s army.

The warriors were busy firing spells and weapons at the gate and walls, but so far, the defenses were holding. It took a moment, but Tenthé found the Mentor and flashed down to land in front of him.

Maybe not land. More like pile-drive into the dirt, but the end result was the same. As Tenthé recovered and climbed out of the small pit he’d made, he was assaulted by spears. They bounced off his shields, but the barrage went on a for a bit little longer than necessary. Eventually, the Mentor called off his troops.

“So, Tenthé, how goes the battle? And why are you here? Shouldn’t you be inside? Wasn’t that our agreement?”

Tenthé paused as he figured out what to answer.

“Um, I got kicked out, things are okay, and I might be able to get us into the City. I’m going to try.”

Before the Mentor could respond, Tenthé turned toward the gate and blew the warriors out of his way. Sort of a reaction to the spear throwing. The Mentor followed, walking along the path Tenthé had cleared.

As he approached the gates, Tenthé found the wards were as he had left them. No-one had taken control, so the gate was still isolated from the rest of the defenses.

Tenthé turned to the Mentor and pointed. “Have your men fire at the wall over there.”

“Why? That’s a solid wall! We’ll never get through.”

Tenthé sighed. The Horde was all about chest-thumping.

Tenthé took out a stone and sheared it high into the air, then set it off. He remained the only one standing as the entire Horde was flattened. None of them escaped without injury and more than a few were shown the way to the next life, at least for the moment.

The Mentor staggered to his feet, finding Tenthé directly in front of him with another stone in his hand. The Mentor stepped back. He wasn’t sure what Tenthé intended to do, but it was a good bet he wouldn’t like it.

“Now, now! No need for violence!” he pleaded.

Coldly, Tenthé looked him in the eye. “You are one of the more reasonable leaders I have met. Well, lately. But remember, we have an agreement. I keep my word as best I can. I would strongly advise you to do the same.”

The Mentor opted to agree heartily. With this little disagreement over, Tenthé turned back to face the gate while the Mentor directed the Horde to attack the wall where Tenthé had indicated.

Using his magical sight, Tenthé watched as the wards moved over to counter the new threat. They were too stupid to realize that this thinned them out at the gate.

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Tenthé ate one of the wards in front of him. Immediately, he felt like he’d eaten an entire horse. His reservoirs were filled to overflowing, which meant he was on fire. The flames roared up and were so hot that the Horde warriors near him had to step back. Tenthé ate a second ward and his flame became a roaring column reaching into the sky as far as it was possible to see.

He ate a third, turning his column blue, and the gate swung open. Not a lot, but enough for a person to edge through.

The warriors piled into the gap and heaved on the gate, ignoring the burns the wards were inflicting and the damage from the spells coming from the defenders inside. Any fallen warrior was replaced by two more, and soon the opening was wide enough that individual warriors could plunge through.

These were immediately slain and blown backward by the unseen defenders, but one warrior made it in with a shield, then a second, and shortly afterward, they were establishing a beachhead. Tenthé couldn’t see what was happening, but from the screams and shouts, his guess was that the warriors were forcing the soldiers to give way.

A Word shoved through the gap and after some yelling back and forth, the warriors outside formed into single file and started jogging through the opening. Tenthé pushed into the line and entered the city.

Inside, he found himself in the midst of an ongoing battle, with the city Magisters on one side of the plaza firing spells at the warriors, who were hiding behind their physical shields and throwing various weapons at the Magisters. Nobody seemed to be winning, but the number of warriors was growing, whereas the number of Magisters was not. They appeared a little harried, as well they should. At any moment, the Horde would rush them and it didn’t look good for the Magisters.

The whole square was yellowish from the light filtering down, and as Tenthé looked up, he could see lines of red piercing the clouds as Turtle loosed his fireballs at something Tenthé couldn’t make out.

The number of warriors had almost outgrown the shielded area and they would rush the Magisters at any moment. They would win, but the cost would be high.

Tenthé decided to help, so he unloaded on the Magisters. They were inundated with weird spells, stuff most of them had never seen, and found now wasn’t the time to learn.

Spirits reached for them, grabbing their magic and eating it from their bodies. Sparks of electricity bounced across the ground, going under their shields to blow them off their feet. Some had no air to breathe and others discovered when they inhaled, all they got was a lungful of bugs. Things yelled and screeched in their ears so loudly it hurt. Unbelievable stenches assaulted them. Their clothes started to strangle them, and on and on.

Worst of all, their own spells would simply fizzle out, or disappear with a mild pop.

It took almost no time, and the Magisters were in a rout. They ran off into the warren of streets, trying to get their magic to work and fight back. It didn’t help that the warriors were right on their heels, smashing the stragglers to the ground, then hauling the unconscious forms off to be converted into more Horde.

The warriors fell into well-disciplined teams, which was even scarier than if they had been a disorganized mob. Pretty soon, only Tenthé, the Mentor, and a few warriors remained. The Mentor was converting the pile of Magisters over to Horde. It went quickly and after a short time, the newly minted warriors were scooting their naked butts through the Gate to get equipped and return to hunt down more “recruits”.

As Tenthé stood in the plaza, a few cubes drifted around him. Soon more appeared, and he found himself at the center of a swirling vortex. After a bit more of a show, the streams converged and formed into the crude shape of a person. It took on the aspects of Isabell and after a few short moments, she spoke, not really sounding human.

“Tenthé! This is not something I expected! In fact, not something I could have imagined! You’re looking a lot less dead than when I last saw you. I even have your body! I cried.”

“Uh… sorry? I thought I was dead, too. Turns out not. Something’s been looking out for me for some time now. I sort of figured, but, hey, now I know.”

There was an awkward pause, then Tenthé went on, “How about you? And how goes it? Do you need help? What’s happening?”

The figure laughed, sounding just like Isabell when he’d made some dumb comment.

“Tsk, tsk, Tenthé! At least you’re cute. I had no idea what had killed you, but when I emerged, Turtle attacked before I could even talk. We’ve been at this a while, but I have it under control. And, oh yeah, there was some other lightweight god who took off. She couldn’t handle me.”

Isabell paused and made a thinking pose. “You know?” she began. “You were so brave and stupid to try to take on the Turtle by yourself.”

Then she laughed in a kind of crazy way, and reached over, grabbing him in a hug that would have killed him once more, if he wasn’t himself.

Before Tenthé could decide if he had to respond, a bellow echoed from the sky.

Isabell spoke into his ear, “Promise me you won’t die again. I sort of lost it, and seeing you here’s a shock, even if it doesn’t show. When this is all over, we really need to talk. Okay?”

Tenthé nodded.

She switched topics. “I guess, though, there is one thing you can do. Help the Horde. The quicker we convert Turtle’s worshipers, the faster this battle will go. Be careful and please, please, please, don’t do anything too stupid.”

At that point, there was a big explosion above and the cube Isabell shimmered for a moment. She looked up in the general direction of the turtle.

“Well, this is fun and all, but I have to get back to work,” she said. “It’s a dirty job, but someone gave it to me without asking. See you at dinner.”

With that, she came apart, with streams of cubes swirling in a non-existent whirlwind until they all flew up into the smoke and clouds.

Tenthé was embarrassed. He’d dumped a lot on her. Not that he really knew how he could have done anything different, but she did have a good reason to be a bit snippy.

But, as annoyed as she might be, he was pretty sure he had made the right decision. Probably not something he should ever admit, though.

As to what he should be doing, she had a point. Although helping the Horde convert citizens hadn’t been part of his agreement with the Mentor, it would make the process go much faster.

To that end, Tenthé ran in the direction the Magisters had taken when they’d fled.

He used his vision to look through the buildings as he walked past, and when he found people the Horde had overlooked, he dashed in, stunned them, then dragged them out to the street where they could be collected.

It was fairly slow going, and eventually he admitted that he wasn’t making much of a difference. He gave up hunting down people, went back to the alleys to look for the nearest excitement. He followed the noise of a battle and found a bunch of warriors huddled down behind some short walls while a Magister slowly whittled their numbers down by blasting them with very powerful bolts. There were a few splatters, the remains of warriors who hadn’t ducked fast enough.

He crawled up to the Word who was probably in charge.

“Could you use some help?”

“No, thanks. I think we’re doing quite well.”

Then the Word cringed as another warrior was explosively converted to paste.

“Really? Okay. I guess,” Tenthé responded.

The Word lost it. “Don’t be an idiot! Of course, we need help! If you can, do something! Anything!”

Tenthé stood up. Immediately he was blasted, but this time, the spell was sent back to the Magister, who was caught completely off guard. He had erected a shield, but had forgotten to anchor himself and was blown into the building behind him. The warriors rushed in before he could recover and piled on. They had something that allowed them to force their way past his shield and shortly, carted him off after ensuring he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. Or ever, unless the conversion process had some sort of healing.

The Word faced him. “Think you can teach me that?” he asked.

“No,” Tenthé answered.

“Can’t or won’t?”

Tenthé thought for a moment. “Yeah.”

The Word gave him a strange look. Then when he realized that Tenthé wasn’t going to say anything else, he got serious. “You might like to know that overall, except for a few annoying instances, we’re doing quite well.”

He went on. “I received a message, though, telling us that the soldiers have barricaded the main road to the City Center outside the fort, and we haven’t been able to make any headway against the defenders. They keep sallying out and returning with more people. If we can break them there, then this might be all over. The Mentor ordered… I mean, asked if you would help.”

At that moment, a spell creased the Word’s head, causing him to rock back. He took off to chase after whoever had sent it. Tenthé watched as he and his patrol disappeared into the City, then turned and headed toward the fort.

Strolling along, he saw the Horde clearing out stragglers and holdouts. Unless Turtle found a way to turn the tables on Isabell, things were looking good. Even if it wasn’t a complete rout, eventually Turtle wouldn’t have many worshippers left and would probably be weak enough that someone would be able to handle him. However it went, Tenthé wanted to be there.

He stepped out of the alleys into the main street between the City Center and the Fort. A few brave warriors tossed spears at him and were quickly thrashed by their smarter compatriots.

Tenthé stalked down the middle of the road. Ahead, he saw that someone had thrown up a fairly formidable defense of earthen barriers reinforced with the same wards the City walls used. Very likely, that meant that at least a few of the wall Magisters had survived.

Far in the distance, he could see that some of the buildings in the fort were on fire. If you included the not on fire part and the section behind the new barriers, that was still a pretty large area. And, if it were full of people and soldiers, that would be a lot of worshipers.

Tenthé took a small chance and sheared up to look inside, but someone had gotten smart and the wards blocked him from seeing anything. Tenthé slammed back to the ground.

He really needed to find some better spell to let him fly.

Figuring that he should at least try to be sneaky, Tenthé went over to the side of the road and crouched in a doorway. If he was spotted, he hoped the soldiers would think he was a citizen trying to get to safety.

But, there was no guarantee he would be seen, or that anyone from the fort would do anything. He might be here forever. Realizing this plan wasn’t going to work, Tenthé got back to his feet and wandered off to find a better place to be rescued from.