Chapter 14

        The dinner that Darax held for the visitors was not fun for anyone.

        The reasons weren’t very complicated, after all.  Tarrin had not endeared himself to the nobles among the Dura, nor did he exactly make Darax want to strike up a friendship with him.  He had been cold, deriding, and not a little disrespectful to Darax, and that was the kind of thing that the Dura nobles weren’t going to forgive very quickly, or very easily.  From the instant that Tarrin arrived in the hall, all conversation ceased among the Dura, and every eye glared at the winged Were-cat throughout almost the entirety of the meal.

        It only got worse when all of their coldness and accusatory stares seemed to have absolutely no effect on Tarrin whatsoever.  He chatted conversationally with his mate and Kimmie and the others, even told them about the clan crests of the Dura and their roots in Duthak custom.  Every crest had a yellow triangle in the center in honor of Clangeddin, the god of the Dwarves, one way the Duthak honored their god in simple yet elegant ways.  They had kept their pious nature, but that piety was now focused on Dumathoin, their new god.  Tarrin’s nonchalance and complete disregard for the hostility of the Dura only seemed to whip them up into a fever pitch before the main course was served, but they were literally trapped in the room with him.  No Dwarf would leave the hall until Darax was finished eating; this was an ancient Duthak custom that seemed to continue to hold true.  And since Darax was busy ignoring Tarrin by talking with Lorak, Bragg, Tsukatta, and Kang at his table at the head of the hall, the rest of the nobles were stuck waiting for Darax to finish his meal so they could leave.

        It all came to a head just about the time dessert was served, meaning large tankards of Dwarven ale. One young Dwarf with a braided red beard stomped over, looked Tarrin in the eye, and boldly told the Were-cat exactly what he thought of him.  His eternal mistake was doing that in front of Mist, whose intolerance for disrespect to her mate was reaching legendary proportions.  The young Dwarf managed to stagger away, leaving a trail of blood that poured from his face, from where Mist had grabbed hold of his braided beard and literally ripped it off his face.  Mist had lunged onto the table to rip off the Dwarf’s beard, and Tarrin grabbed her by the tail to prevent her from trying to chase the Dwarf down and finishing him off.  She made as if to throw the beard at the Dwarf’s back, but then snorted and placed the beard deliberately on the table as she crawled down, putting it out in plain sight as a gruesome warning to anyone else who would dare speak so to her mate.

        Mist’s action caused a sudden firestorm of shouting and overturned benches as the Dwarves in the hall jumped up and prepared to do battle with Mist over her attack on the youth, at least until Tarrin intervened.  The Dwarves knew something bad was about to happen when incadescent white light suddenly flooded through those wings on the Were-cat’s back, casting his face into shadow that made him look positively ominous.  With a single wave of a glowing paw, he caused every single loose object before him, food, plates, tankards, benches, tables, Dwarves, even the rushes on the floor, to hurtle backwards against the wall Tarrin faced, and there it all stayed as if some gigantic hand was pressing them into the wall.  Dwarves struggled and writhed, tried to push pieces of furniture off their faces, but the force holding it there was as inexorable as it was careful not to do any lasting harm.

        “Was that entirely necessary, dear one?” Dolanna questioned sternly.

        “Actually, yes, it was,” Tarrin answered, looking at the Dwarves pinned against the wall.  “Better teach them this lesson now, before Mist kills one of them.”

        “What are ye doing?” Darax screamed from his chair.  “Release them at once!”

        “I just saved their lives, Darax,” Tarrin said evenly.  “I’m tolerant of disrespect shown to me, but my mate is not.  If they move like they’re going to fight like that again, she’ll probably kill all of them.”

        “Damn right I will,” Mist said with a threatening hiss at them, her ears laying back.

        “I doubt that serously,” Darax snapped.  “Now release them!”

        “Your Majesty, you’re about to make a very big mistake,” Kang said with quiet urgency.  “You’re getting really close to accusing Tarrin of lying, and that is something you do not want to do.  If he says it, he means it.  And he probably did just save their lives,” he added.  “Getting them away from Mist was only smart.”

        “You show too much respect for these creatures, Kang,” the Dain said stiffly.  “No single creature is a match for the nobles of the Dura.”

        “Do you want to put money on that wager, my Dain?” Kang said with a sly smile.  “I’ll put every copper bit in my purse on Mist right here and now.”

        “Mist?  Allow them to face Kimmie, Kang-san,” Tsukatta offered.  “She is the least volatile of the Were-cats.  She would not kill one of them out of pique.”

        “Aye,” Kang nodded.  “Well, what say you, my Dain?  Do you think your nobles are up to facing just one of the Were-cats?  They get a chance to beat up a Were-cat in retaliation for Mist ripping that beard off, and you get a chance to show the Were-cats what the Dura are made of.  Everyone gets the fight they want, but nobody gets killed, and it’ll be sporting.  What do you say?”

        “What is Kang doing?” Dolanna demanded in a harsh whisper, speaking in Sharadi to Tarrin.

        “Proving a point,” he answered, then he looked to Kimmie.  “Well, dear, you think you’re up to a little exercise?”

        “I’m wearing a dress, Tarrin!” she complained plaintively.  “You know I hate fighting in a dress!”

        “Won’t Kimmie get hurt?” Zyri asked in concern.

        Kimmie chuckled, ruffling Zyri’s hair.  “They can’t hurt me, munchkin,” she winked.  “I’m more worried about one of them ripping my dress.”

        Kang’s cleverly offered challenge managed to do two things.  First, it deflected what could have been a very ugly confrontation between Darax and Tarrin, and secondly it appealed to a Dwarf’s sense of competition.  Dwarves strove to be the best, even if they didn’t flaunt that superiority…but there was a fair bit of competing among them.  They raced each other to see who could be the richest, who could make the best crafted items, who could be the best at what they were doing.  Those who won were good sports about it, those who lost weren’t overtly jealous, even if they were covetous.

        “A single Were-cat against all me nobles?  That’s hardly fair.”

        “If you think so, then accept the challenge,” Kang told him. “And my wager.”

        “It’s yer money to lose.”

        “Then take the bet,” Kang pressed.

        “What say ye, nobles?” Darax called to the men and women pinned to the wall.  “Think ye can take a single southlander?”

        There was a loud concerted cry of consent, as one of them yelled out “as long as there ain’t no cheatin’ magic!”  It sounded to Tarrin like the nobles had some pride to regain.

        “Does Miss Kimmie agree to be the opposition?” Darax called.  “Fully understandin’ that ye can’t hold us responsible for any injuries ye might take during the fight?”

        “Me against every dwarf in this room?” Kimmie said with a completely insincere look of trepidation.  “Well, it’s the honor of the Were-cats at stake, so I’d have to accept the challenge, your Majesty.”

        “You are such a liar,” Miranda said in a gleeful whisper to her, which made Kimmie wink slyly.

        “We’ll be making it fair,” Darax said smugly.  “No weapons, no magic.  Ye’ll fight til Kimmie yields or she’s knocked senseless.  Er, and the same applies to me nobles,” he added.

        Tarrin and Haley looked at each other, then burst out laughing, which caused Darax to glare at them.

        “What’s so funny?” Zyri asked.

        “The rules the Dain set will make it impossible for his nobles to win,” Dolanna answered the girl.

        “Shouldn’t we say something?” she asked.

        “No.  The Dain has made the rules.  Now he must learn from his mistake,” Binter said sagely.

        “I am not ruining my dress,” Kimmie said sternly.

        “Then take it off, fool girl,” Mist told her.

        “Good idea,” Kimmie said with sudden enthusiasm.

        The Dwarves started laughing and throwing out rather unflattering comments when Kimmie stood up and boldly removed her dress as Tarrin released his magical hold on the Dura, who came stomping up towards the nude Were-cat with wicked enthusiasm in their eyes.  Kimmie was not like any other Were-cat female, her body all feminine curves, no discernable muscular definition, and the she-softness of a human…but that was a deceptive trap that had cost more than one person his life.  Kimmie looked all delicate and weak, but she was every bit as strong as any female Were-cat her size.  The Dwarves stopped a few spans from her, then they started laughing and debating among themselves who would get the honor of going out there and basicly punching her in the stomach and making her beg like a little girl.  They were lured into a feeling of overwhelming superiority because there were fifty of them and one Kimmie, and Kimmie looked like a weakling.

        They were about to be thoroughly disabused of that notion.

        They finally sent out a single male Dwarf, a rather burly tall one that came up to Kimmie’s slender belly who was wearing an ale-stained chain hauburk with bits of potato wedged in the chain links from where Tarrin had slammed all the food into the them.  “Give up now, lass, I don’t wanna hurt ye,” he said, cracking his knuckles threateningly as the Dura started to cheer him and jeer Kimmie.

        Kimmie gave him a disingenuous smile, stepped up, and let him have it.

        The cheering became gasps when the Dwarf literally sailed over the heads of his companions.  Kimmie had struck like a viper, lunging out and grabbing the Dwarf by his chain jack, then rearing back and throwing him like a large rubber ball.  He hurtled through the air and crashed into the wall behind them, then dropped to the floor and lay in a twitching heap.

        “Here now, we agreed no magic!” one young bearded female Dwarf screamed in protest, putting her hands on her hips.

        “I didn’t use magic,” Kimmie said in a seductively wicked purr, spreading her feet and putting her paws out, a mimic of the slouched fighting stance that Tarrin himself used, then she gave the Dwarves a deliciously evil little smile.  “I’m not using anything that my parent didn’t bless me with when I was turned.  My strength is natural.  Want to see it again?”

        The Dwarves took a unified step back, then one screamed out “get ‘er!”

        They rushed Kimmie all at once, correctly guessing that it was going to take numbers to defeat an opponent with her physical power.

        It was almost funny to watch. The shorter Dwarves found in the sleek Were-cat an opponent as fast as she was strong.  She evaded the rush simply by vaulting over them, and she was on them from behind not even a heartbeat after her feet touched the floor.  Dwarves started flying in every direction as she grabbed breastplates and chain mail shirts and simply tossed them this way and that, forcing whoever was in them to follow along with the armor.  They managed to regroup enough to try to swarm her under, but their fists and feet and weight were like annoying bees to the Were-cat.  They weren’t tall enough to hit her in the head, and her head was the only vulnerable part of her anatomy.  Dwarves went flying with every sweeping blow of her arms, but to their credit, they didn’t give up.  Those that got tossed aside quickly got back on their feet and ran right back into the fray.  She danced and flitted and spun to keep them from swarming her, knocking Dwarves off their feet with pushes, light kicks, slaps of her tail, and the occasional hooking of armor and tossing aside like a sack of meal.  But the Dwarves were determined and they were working together, managing to get Kimmie surrounded to the point where she couldn’t dodge them anymore.  She evaded this tactic simply by jumping away again, adjusting her feet to keep from landing on a Dwarf that was on the ground, trying to recover from where she had thrown him.  “Sorry!” she said quickly as she landed with a foot on either side of the younger Dwarf, then quickly flitted away before he had the presence of mind to try to grab her feet.  They worked again to surround her, even as she sent them flying or batted them to the ground, until it became clear to the Dwarves that she was playing  with them.  That made them outraged, and it also helped focus their determination.  One Dwarf managed to grab hold of Kimmie’s left foot after she knocked her to the ground with a foot to the rump, and that hold slowed her down just long enough for the Dwarves to converge on her.  They slammed into her from every direction, grabbing her and trying to pull her off her feet, even as they continued to punch and kick her.  She endured their pummeling with stoicism, even when one of them punched her in the groin deliberately, tensing up her muscles and letting them beat on the rock-hard shielding those muscles provided to the organs underneath, using her inhuman strength and claws dug into the floor to keep them from pulling her down.  Kimmie had Dwarves literally hanging off her arms after a few chaotic seconds as she went about the task of peeling them off of her, as they all continued to try to bring her down with sheer force of numbers.  Kimmie dealt with them like a mother cat enduring the play of her kittens, being gentle with them, but clearly manhandling them…at least until one aggressive Dwarf went and decided to bite her tail.  Kimmie yowled in pain and her eyes suddenly went hot with indignation, and she whipped around on the offending Dwarf so quickly that the Dwarves hanging off of her were thrown off by the sudden violent movement.

        “How dare you bite my tail!” she shrieked in outrage.

        “Ooo, mistake,” Tarrin winced dryly.

        “Big mistake,” Mist agreed with a nod.

        “Kimmie’s tail is sensitive?” Haley asked with a broad grin.

        “Very,” Tarrin nodded.  “She’s mad now.  It’s over.”

        Kimmie’s indignation was quickly demonstrated, because she stopped being gentle.  Instead of knocking them down or tossing them aside, Kimmie balled her fists and starting smashing them to the floor with stunning, crushing blows.  Feet that only knocked them down, maybe booted them a few spans, now struck with such force that the unfortunate Dwarf on the receiving end was catapulted into the air, the armor he or she was wearing the only thing preventing a mortal injury.  One unlucky fellow was grabbed by the ankle, and then Kimmie hefted that Dwarf up and used him like a living weapon, smashing him into his fellows like a club, then whipping him around in a circle and blasting him into anyone that was close enough to hit.  Tarrin had this vision of that ridiculous pair he’d encountered while guarding the gateway back home, that Dwarf with the axeblade helmet, the one that thought he was a battle axe, and it made him laugh to see Kimmie using the Dwarf in her paws as a weapon against his companions.

        Fueled by righteous indignation, Kimmie systematically beat the entire Dwarven assemblage of nobles senseless.  In mere moments, the hall was filled with groaning Dwarves laying haphazardly on the bare floor, about ten Dwarves on their knees yielding in hysterical voices, and in the middle of the splayed forms of the unconscious was a naked tabby-furred Were-cat, her shoulders heaving and her face screwed up in a mask of outrage and anger as she surveyed the ones who surrendered, just daring them to try to get up with her eyes.

        Darax was silent for a very long moment, staring at Kimmie in shock and disbelief.  “Maybe now you’ll take our warnings seriously, your Majesty,” Kang told him in a grim tone.  “You’ve been too resistant to the idea that what’s coming can’t possibly be any stronger or better than your forces.  Well, that little slip of a Were-cat just laid waste to your nobility.  Your nobles were like biting gnats to her, couldn’t hurt her at all, nothing more than a nuisance, and they lasted only as long as they didn’t annoy her enough to make her squash them.  That is exactly what you’ll be facing when the Demons come.  Beings you can’t hurt without magical weapons, that will toy with you until you aggravate them, then they’ll just kill you.  Now, if Kimmie can do this, imagine what a Demon can do, who’s bigger, stronger, and much meaner than Kimmie.”

        “Ye make a strong point, General Kang,” Darax said with uncertainty in his eyes as he looked at his defeated nobility.

        “Kimmie, enough,” Tarrin called sternly.

        She blinked, then blew out her breath, and then the sunny expression was back on her face, as if she had not just brutally beat up most of the Dwarven nobility.  “Excuse me,” she said politely as she stepped over a groaning Dwarf laying on the floor.  “May I have my dress please, munchkin?” she asked Zyri, holding her paw out for the dress that the young lady was holding for her.

        “A good fight,” Denai said with a grin.  “I might have to dance with you someday, shaida Kimmie,” she offered.  “I would love to see how good you are.”

        “I cheat, Denai,” Kimmie warned with a grin.

        “It looks like Kang’s demonstration had more to do with the Dain’s arrogant belief that his warriors can defeat Demons than teaching him about Were-cats,” Dolanna mused her her voice.  “I did not realize that he had been resistant in the planning meetings.  I have not been there.”

        “They can beat Demons if they’re prepared for them,” Tarrin said with a wave of his paw, as the Dwarves started shakily getting up off the floor.  Kimmie had broken a few bones, but hadn’t done any serious injury, nothing that the Priests among the Dura couldn’t fix with a few simple healing spells.  “But maybe now Darax has an idea of what’s coming.”

        That little demonstration made the Dura quiet and introspective as they were collected up off the floor, their injuries healed by Priests, and the furniture returned to its proper places with a few gestures of Tarrin’s glowing paws.  But where the Dura were pensive, Darax’s young face was openly troubled.  Maybe for the first time in his entire life, he had seen his warriors, his people, bested.  And not just bested, but totally beaten down like a dog.  For the first time in his life, Darax was realizing that his people could  be beaten, that they were not as invincible as he had always believed.

        All in all, Tarrin felt that maybe what happened would be for the best in the long run.

        Though the others had taken an interest in the Dura, even the Vendari, Tarrin did not.  Where most of his friends and family explored their city, talked to the Dura, got to know them and to like them, Tarrin remained closed up in his room, with his spellbook in his lap, or locked in deep discussion with Camara Tal over matters both magical and theological.  This seemed strange to most who knew him, since he had spent so many years studying the Dwarves, but those closest to him understood that Tarrin’s mind was weighed down by grim and weighty matters that blinded him to virtually everything except what was coming.

        Tarrin was not the only one.  Kang too had become obsessed to the point of forgetting to eat or sleep, as had Bragg, as the two of them went over the maps, went out and studied their proposed battlefield, and planned and planned and planned.  They had no idea how many they were going to be facing, or how many of the dreaded Demons were going to be part of the battle.  Bragg’s general staff was just as busy, and it wasn’t long before Binter and Sisska were drawn into the command staff, Lorak and Phandebrass were brought in to consult on the uses of magic, and one of the Selani, the son of a tribe chief named Zaran, was brought in to help the generals use his people most effectively.  Anayi was drafted and tasked with the duty of keeping track of the advancing army, and only her.  Ariana was a bit annoyed that her usual role was usurped, at least until Kang explained that if she was spotted, flying Demons would Teleport right to her location and attack her, and no amount of her vaunted flying speed would save her because they could just Teleport in front of her at any time.  They would do the same to Anayi, but Anayi could herself Teleport away, making it much safer for her to do it than Ariana.  Given that Anayi had been inside the Iron Mountain and could instantly Teleport right back to it at any time, it would allow her to return with up-to-the-second intelligence on the movements and activities of the enemy.

        At least Mist understood.  He hadn’t told her everything about his plan, but she knew enough to know that he needed to be well prepared, and what he’d been doing was preparation for this challenging task.  She kept him quiet company, and kept the children from distracting him too much as he read through his spellbook over, and over, and over, struggling to comprehend the language behind the words.  But it was very slow going, and at times he had to put the book down in frustration and go walk around.

        Those walks around were rarely very pleasant.  The Were-cats were not well liked now, both because of Tarrin’s actions towards Darax and Kimmie’s utter thrashing of the nobles.  The Were-cats had stung the pride of the Dura on multiple fronts, by showing a lack of respect towards their young king, and beating them around the throne hall like disobedient dogs.  Insolent glares followed him around, and they became truly heated when the Dwarves realized that the Were-cat, so totally engrossed in his own thoughts, didn’t even notice that they were there, let alone took notice of their dislike of him…but after what happened in the throne room, none of them had the courage to confront him.  The Dwarf whom Mist had de-bearded had been healed, but it would be years before he regrew his beard out, and the lack of a beard made him look quite different from his fellows.

        That beard now hung on the wall opposite the door in their apartment, a very visible warning to any Dwarf who entered Tarrin’s rooms what the price was for showing disrespect.

        It was during one of those walks that he found himself standing in front on a bench that was too small for him in front of a fountain not far from the palace compound, staring at the cascading water without noticing too much what was before his eyes.  There was a statue of a female Dwarf and a male Dwarf standing back to back on a rough rock in the center of the fountain, wearing heavy plate armor and brandishing battle axes.  Water bubbled up from vents around their feet and cascaded down the sides of the rock, gurgling down into a wide, shallow pool.  There was an inscription on the rock, which read Dain Korgak VI under the male and another which read Dain Grendla III under the female.  They were statues honoring kings of the past.

        Crossing his arms, he looked down into the water and decided that this might be a good time to touch base with some old friends.  His wings flooded with the incadescent white light that marked his use of Sorcery, and he wove a weave of Water and Divine into the waters of the pool.  Within seconds, the shell of animation was complete, and a tenuous link opened between where he was and the Elemental Plane of Water, beckoning to the spirit residing there to join him.

        She answered immediately, as she always did.  The surface of the water bulged, and then the form of the Elemental rose from the waters of the pool.  As she always did, she took on a vaguely humanoid form when he did not select one for her, a humanoid form that was decidedly feminine.  His water Elemental was the only one of the four that was anima, was female, and she always seemed to want that fact known for some reason.  Two glowing green eyes appeared within the watery head of the Elemental’s form, and she nodded to him with stateful eloquence as the gentle link between his mind and hers was formed.

        He chose his water Elemental because she, unlike the others, had a position of prominence and authority within her realm.  She was best suited to answer his questions, even though his earth Elemental was much wiser and more learned than she was.

        In that touch between their minds was all the information that he needed to pass to her.  She immediately knew what he wanted of her.  “Is it possible?” he asked aloud.

        She was motionless for a long moment, then she nodded.  “If you know the proper Wizard spells, it is possible,” she answered aloud, mirroring his own method of communication, in a voice that sounded like waves crashing against the sea.  “But you will suffer from the same restrictions as a Wizard by doing so.  You are only safe from me, Master.”

        “Can you think of a way around that?”

        “If you sought the aid of Vishtee, the Mistress of Water, queen of the plane of Water, she could compel the others to obey.  But she would not do such a thing for a mortal, Master, not even you.”

        “Even if she knew what I’m facing here?”

        “The Demons cannot challenge us, Master, and the events of the material plane do not concern us.”  She glanced around.  “Would you grant me the boon of calling forth my cousin from the earth?  We should seek his council in this.”

        “Calling the other two would probably also be a good idea,” he grunted.  “They’re probably worried, since it’s been so long.”

        “I have been,” she nodded.

        In a matter of moments, he had all four of his Elementals present with him.  The air elemental hovered over his shoulder, and the other three formed a ring before the fountain.  After allaying worries with reassurances, he explained what was coming, and his idea to help combat it.  “Can you think of any way I can call more than you four without risking them turning on me?” he asked directly.  “If I could field a few dozen Elementals, it could really help.  Demons have no defense against an Elemental.”

        “Using standard methods, no,” the earth Elemental answered aloud, his voice sounding like the groaning of a deep cave.  “Sorcery will not permit you to summon a second Elemental of the same kind, because of the bond, and if you use Wizardry, you are bound by its rules.  But,” he said, glancing at the fire elemental, “you have a different way of doing it, Master.  You are a god of fire, and you can command that element.  If you called out to the plane of Fire, the Elementals there would be compelled to obey you.”

        “I don’t want to force them to help me,” he grunted.

        “They have no reason to obey you willingly, Master,” the earth Elemental grumbled.  “The happenings in the material world have no meaning to us.  Your only recourse is to command.”

        “Phaugh,” Tarrin snorted, turning around and sitting on the edge of the fountain.  “Well, it was an idea, anyway.”

        “Why does the idea of command bother you so?” the water Elemental asked.

        He ran his paw over his head, mashing an ear back.  “I guess…I guess it means that I have to fall back on that,” he told her.  “You know I’ve never been comfortable with it.”

        “It is who you are, Master,” she told him, putting a watery hand on his shoulder.  “Try as we might to rage against that which we are, in the end it can never be denied.  You have a chance to use it to your advantage, and perhaps save many lives.  Don’t turn your back on it because it means using power you despise.”

        “You’re right, you’re right,” he sighed, looking to the fire Elemental.  “Will it work?”

        It nodded.  “We can’t disobey when you call to us,” it answered.  “If you used a Wizard spell to open a rift into the plane of Fire, you could command every Elemental near to it to obey you.”

        “No, I won’t do it that way,” he said.  “If I call them through a gate, then if they die here, they die.”

        “We cannot die on the material plane,” the earth Elemental told him.  “All it would do is send our spirits back to our home planes.  We would then simply reform another body from the substance of the plane.  It would take longer and we would lose energy, but we would not die.”

        “The only way to kill an Elemental forever is to slay us in our home plane,” the air Elemental agreed.

        “Well, that’s something,” he sighed.  “How many fire Elementals could I call?” he asked, looking to the fire Elemental.

        “I couldn’t say, Master,” it answered.  “It would depend entirely on where you opened the rift.”

        “Here now, what manner of beasts be these?” a voice called.

        Tarrin looked up and saw none other than Dain Darax, with two of his guards.  He was wearing a gleaming silvered breastplate with sturdy black trousers, and was carrying his copy of the axe of the Dains.  He didn’t look hostile, just curious.

        “Elementals, Darax,” Tarrin answered politely.  “Air, fire, earth, and water,” he added, pointing them out.  Each nodded to the Dain as he pointed to them.  “Summoning an Elemental is a spell of magic.  These are the ones that answer my call.  I had some questions I needed answered, and I’ve found that Elementals are beings of wisdom as well as power.  Sometimes these four beings are the only ones I can turn to when I need certain questions answered.  After all, their knowledge is far beyond just this world.”

        “Well, pleased to meet ye,” he said a bit uncertainly.  “May I?”

        “Please,” he said, motioning beside him.  Darax stomped over, giving the Elementals a quick look.  They moved back a little to let him sit down.

        “I done had a talk with Kang, and with Mistress Dolanna,” he said respectfully.  “I couldn’t right believe one of the things she said.  She said you were the one that fought the One.”

        Tarrin looked him directly in the eyes.  “I did,” he admitted.  “I lost too.”

        “But still, ye fought a god.  That seems impossible.”

        “It’s not impossible,” he said casually.  “Gods can only use so much power in the material world.  If you can stand up to that, you can fight a god.  Granted, it’s still way more power than most can match, but I have certain, advantages,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.  “These are a part of that.  They give me the power to fight a god in the physical world.”

        “What are they?”

        “An echo of a long-dead power,” he answered.  “Trust me, they weren’t worth what I had to pay for them.”

        “I don’t understand.”

        “I’m sorry, Darax, but it would take too long to explain it.  Just think of them as a small fragment of a long-dead power that has enough strength to oppose the One, and leave it at that.”

        “I’ll trust yer word on that.  She said that ye mean to go back and finish what ye started.”

        “I will,” he answered.  “In five days, when the others go back to Sennadar, I’ll go to Pyros and destroy the One.”

        “And the Demon Lord?”

        “Dolanna and I have a plan for leashing him,” he answered.  “After that, it’s going to be up to the people left on Pyrosia to kill the Demons.  I won’t be able to help.”

        “Why not?”

        “Because I’ll be dead,” he answered bluntly.  “And Dolanna will have to keep the leash on the Demon Lord.”

        “She said that it wouldn’t come to that.”

        “Dolanna is too optomistic sometimes,” he grunted.  “And even if I do live through it, I’ll have to retain the leash on the Demon Lord, which takes me out of the fight.  That’ll free up Dolanna, though.”

        “Can ye do it?  Kill the One?”

        “I can,” he answered.  “He summoned the Demon Lord out of desperation, because even though we’re both wounded, I’m healing faster than he is.  He knows that when I show up again, he’ll lose.  He summoned the Demon Lord to protect himself from me, but that was the biggest mistake he could have ever made. The Demon Lord will destroy the One the instant he has enough power in this world to do so, and then we’ll be left with facing the Demon army he summons to conquer the world.”

        “Why not let this Demon kill the One?”

        “Because that means he has the power to conquer the rest of the world,” he answered.  “Every minute that goes by is more power that the Demon Lord manages to amass.  I have to kill the One as quickly as possible.”

        “Doesn’t that mean that ye have to go through the Demon Lord to get at the One?”

        He nodded.  “I never said it was going to be easy,” he shrugged.  “But we have a plan for that.  It’s complicated, and excuse me if I don’t explain it to you.”

        “Is there anythin’ I can do to help with yer plan?” he asked in a steady voice.

        Tarrin glanced at him.  “Yes.  You can send some of your people with Phandebrass,” he answered.  “But you can also stand and fight.  That way you can help defend this world from the Demon Lord, but if we all fail, well, then the Dura will survive.  The Duthak had that foresight, which is why the Dura are here now.  Just show the same prudence your ancestors did, that’s all I ask.  That’s all.  I spent years studying your ancestors, and the Dwarves are remembered to this day, even after five thousand years, with the highest regard and respect.  When your old god, Clangeddin, asked me to come to see if there were any Dwarves left, I agreed without hesitation.  I have too much respect and admiration for your people to see them die here and now because you wouldn’t take the steps to protect your people from extinction.”

        “Ye coulda said it like that instead of confronting me in me own throne room,” he chuckled gratingly.

        “I’m not one for diplomacy, Darax.  I never have been.”

        “Lady Dolanna explained things to me.  I understand better now.  I’ve already decided that I’m sending some of me people with Phandebrass, enough to protect us from dyin’ out.  But the rest of us, we’re stayin’, and we’ll fight.”

        “The Elara?”

        He nodded.  “They refuse to send anyone away.  They’ll stay and fight to the last man.  They believe that with them up on the moon, there ain’t no way the Demon Lord can get at ‘em.”

        “Just the way you thought that no Demon could breach the gates of the Iron Mountain.”

        He nodded.  “Seein’ that girl of yers beat down me nobles, that made me start thinkin’ that maybe we aren’t as safe here as I thought.”

        “Be glad it was Kimmie.  If it was Mist, you’d have buried a couple.”

        “Aye, I was warned about her.  But she doesn’t seem all that mean.”

        “Say the wrong thing and you’ll find out.”

        Darax chuckled.  “Are these, well, alive?” he asked, motioning to the Elementals.

        “Very,” he replied.  “They come from another dimension.”

        “They look very strange—no offense meant, ye understand,” he said quickly.  “I just never saw nothing like ye before.”

        “To us, you look very strange,” the earth Elemental boomed.

        “Ah, they talk,” he said with a chuckled.  “I be Darax, Dain of the Dura,” he introduced.  “What names are yers?”

        “Our names are irrelevant,” the water Elemental answered.  “They would be things we would never reveal to others.  Should a Wizard discover our names, the Wizard could use them to make slaves of us.”

        “I didn’t know that.  I beg yer pardon for askin’ then, madam.”

        “Few who do not study the ways of Arcane magic would,” she answered with a simple nod.

        “So these be advisors of yers?” he asked Tarrin.

        “At times.  They also help me in other ways, even if I just need to talk.  They’ve been friends of mine for many years.”

        Darax looked at them again, then stood up.  “Well, I’d best be getting back to the planning.  Just needed to step out for a bit of fresh air.  Be well, master Tarrin.”

        Darax stumped away with his guards, as Tarrin studied his back, until he made a decision.  “Darax,” he called.

        “Aye?” he asked, turning around.  He flinched violently but managed to react in time to catch the object that Tarrin had lobbed at him.  He stared at it for a long moment, his eyes a mystery.

        It was the Axe of the Dwarven King.

        “I think that belongs to you,” Tarrin called.  “Take care of it, your Majesty.”

        “With me life,” he said reverently, running a finger over the symbols engraved in one of the axeheads.  “With me life.”

        Time.

        Sometimes time was an element of universal reality that completely mystified Tarrin.  Even with all of his learning, and wisdom, and years of hard life that had grown him beyond his years, he still just didn’t understand how it could flow like a racing river or creep like a garden slug along a leaf.

        Five days had seemed like lots of time before they left Pyrosia, but there was also the fact that the armies of the One was coming, and they had maintained a murderous pace.  They got ever closer as Tarrin raced to complete his almost impossible task, to unlock the meaning of the language of magic, to understand the language of the gods, until it was apparent that they were going to arrive before he accomplished that task.

        Ariana had predicted they’d arrive four days after they reached the Iron Mountain, three days before they were going to leave, and she had been exactly right.

        Tarrin stood on the absolute pinnacle of the Iron Mountain, his feet resting precariously on a tiny ridge of snow-laced, windswept rock that marked the apex of the peak, standing erect against a howling wind that sought to tear him from his perch and send him hurtling off into the vast expanse of empty air before him.  To the south, snaking out like a great living thing, were the armies of the One, advancing with singular purpose upon the towering monument that was the Iron Mountain, last bastion of the race of the Sennadar Dwarves.  They looked like ants to him from that lofty height, tiny crawling things far beneath him, awaiting only to be squashed.

        They weren’t alone, of course.  There were Demons down there…Tarrin could feel them.  And the Demons could feel him.  There was no doubt that every Demonic eye was locked on the summit of the mountain, staring up at the glowing, almost incandescent presence of a being not meant for the mortal plane, the shining light that was his divine soul that radiated out from him, a light that only other extradimensional beings could see.  To them, the top of the Iron Mountain shone like a lighthouse on the shore, and the light that illuminated that snowy peak was ominous and dreadful.

        Today…today, would be a day of change.  The armies of the enemy were marching forward with inexorable certainty, extinguishing their torches in the dawn.  They’d camped a few longspans south, and were now marching the final distance to reach the battlefield that Kang and Bragg had chosen…almost as if they knew where it was going to be.  From the way it looked, they’d be set up on the far side of that narrow valley and ready to hit the armies of the Dura in about an hour…early in the morning, but late enough for the light of the sun to come over the mountain peaks to the south and shine in the faces of the Dwarves as the armies of the One charged.  That was only prudent military planning, showing that whoever was leading that army knew what he was doing.  Their forces would be warmed up from the march, but not exhausted and unable to fight.  If they had discipline, they could set their forces and move within minutes of reaching a staging area, so long as the reserves behind that assault force formed up behind them as they charged.  But that wasn’t going to matter.  No matter how many they had, no matter how many Demons they sent, Tarrin would ensure that they were destroyed.  Tarrin would do his best to help eradicate that entire army and rob the Demon Lord of those forces later on, when the real war began.

        It wasn’t going to be easy, but Kang and Bragg had a good plan, and they had a tactical advantage with the terrain and the chosen battlefield.  They would also initially be defending in an area that had been prepared with fortifications, which gave them another advantage.  The enemy had an overwhelming numerical advantage, as well as Demons…but Tarrin’s responsibility was to even those odds.  And he had already planned that out.

        He had to approach this with a minimalist bent.  He had to accomplish his objectives and help win this battle while utilizing as little of his power as possible.  He didn’t want to show his hand to the Demon Lord as to what kind of power he possessed, didn’t want to give the Demon Lord any reason to fear Tarrin’s power.  If he overstepped his bounds and gave the Demon Lord reason to worry, then the creature might join against the One to destroy him when he went after them…and Tarin couldn’t fight them both at once.  He figured that it wouldn’t hurt to use any ability that they knew that he had already displayed since he was wounded, mainly his Sorcery, shapeshifting, and minor use of his divine abilities.  At the most, he would open the rift into the Plane of Fire and summon help if things got bad.  But that was as far as he could go.  If he showed any more power than that, then the Demon Lord might attack him when he arrived at Pyros instead of simply stepping back and allowing him to remove the last obstacle between the Demon Lord and absolute domination of this material plane.  The entire key to this was to show that he was strong enough to kill the One, but that he was no threat to the Demon Lord.  Tarrin’s rage was his motivation for going back after the One…or so he would let them believe.  That bitch Shaz’Baket was with the Demon Lord, he had no doubt that she had told him everything she knew about him, which was admittedly a substantial amount.  That Tarrin would risk death by attacking the One with the Demon Lord standing in the way was not a stretch…that was something that he would definitely do.  Tarrin’s rage knew no fear, and more than once in the past it had blinded his judgement.

        Tarrin was counting on the fact that Shaz’Baket knew all about him, and had told her master.  He was depending on it.  He would turn that weakness into a critical advantage.

        Tarrin wrapped his wings, which now blazed with an incandescent white light at all times because of the tremendous reserve of Sorcery he had built up over the night, around himself to keep the chill of the wind off his skin, shaking his head a little after his braid whipped over his shoulder and flapped in the stiff wind, partially blocking his view of the valley below.  His tail snaked up over his shoulder and wrapped around his braid, then pulled it back over his shoulder and under his wings to keep it secured.

        Today would be the first day a brand new Blood War, the first day of the making of a new world.  Today would mark the flipping of the hourglass…and when that sand poured out its last grain, the One would be dead, and the Demon Lord and all his minions would be safely contained.  Then the hourglass would be turned over once again, its sands marking the destruction of the Demon Lord’s forces and the liberation of Pyrosia from both the One and the Demon Lord.

        And then it would be turned over once more, to mark the beginning of a new age of peace.  And would the Goddess ensure that sand never poured out.

        He closed his eyes as something familiar smacked into his shoulder, then crawled up and took shelter from the wind under one of his wings.  “They’re looking for you, Tarrin,” Sarraya piped over the wind.  “Did you have to come out here when it’s so windy?  I almost had my dress torn off!”

        Tarrin looked up into the cloudless sky.  “It’s going to get worse, Sarraya,” he said in an absent, almost lethargic manner.  “There’s a storm coming.”

        “Well, let’s hope that it only rains over there!” she shouted.  “What’s wrong?” she asked after a moment.

        “Nothing, old friend,” he answered, looking back down at the army in the distance.  “Just musing about the past and the future, and what more needs to be done.”

        “Don’t get all mopey on me now,” she said.

        He didn’t answer.

        “Kang wants you down at the army,” she told him.  “They’ve sent out some of those flying Demons to scout, so he figures the fighting’s going to start real soon.”

        “I know the plan, Sarraya, and I know the signals.  I’ll stay up here, where they can see me, where I can be a powerful distraction.  Those Demons down there are going to be too busy watching me than to worry too much about what the Dura and the others are doing, and that might help them.  Tell Kang that when I’m needed, I’ll be there.”

        “He’s not gonna like that.”

        “Look into my eyes, then ask me if I care.”

        Sarraya burst out into laughter.  “Not a bit,” she giggled.  “I’ll go tell him.  I’ll even tell him what you just told me if he gets pecky.”

        “Knock yourself out,” he said absently.

        “Alright.  I’ll see you down there.  Be careful, Tarrin.  It’s gonna be dangerous, you know.  For you, I mean.”

        “You too, old friend.”

        She flitted out from the protection of his wing and dove down the mountainside, flying along the leeward side to protect herself from the wind, quickly vanishing from sight as she turned invisible…but he could still see the aura of her as a wispy outline encompassing empty air.  But that too quickly vanished, as she raced away from him.

        Tarrin watched her go, and then hefted his sword.  The flame of the sword flinched, and then was replaced by the ghostly white aura that marked its connection to the Weave, almost looking like white fire dancing along the blade.  He did not weave any spells, instead, he reversed the blade, then drove it into the stone of the mountain’s peak.  The entire mountain seemed to shudder and flinch as flows of Sorcery suddenly raced through it, coarsing through the veins of rock, threading down and branching over and over again, expanding more and more as it raced down the mountain until they reached the base.  Then the flows began to weave together into a coherent spell, a spell of High Sorcery that heavily involved all seven Spheres, a spell that had not existed until that moment.  The spell infused the rock, introducing a Ward into the stone of the mountain itself that would instantly destroy any Demon who so much as put a clawpoint on any part of the stone.  Built into the spell was a specific exclusion, to protect Anayi, Forge, and Ember.  The spell would not hurt them, but would kill any other Demon.  Tarrin charged the Ward so it would last for at least a few days, then removed the sword.

        That was the last line of defense, in case everything went horribly wrong.

        The white of his wings faded away, leaving them looking normal once more…a conscious move to conceal the charge he was carrying, nothing more.  That spell had cost him none of the energy he had stored up, it had all come from the sword.

        There was no more he had to do.  He had already laid down a Ward over the planned battlefield to prevent any Demon from teleporting in or out, even Anayi.  There was nothing left for him to do but watch, and wait.

        Bragg was the one that had command of the front line, and there was no other place that the scarred general would ever want to be.  It wasn’t that the general enjoyed killing and war—well, maybe not completely—but his place was with his men, fighting at the front lines, swinging his axe just as he expected his youngest, lowest-ranking, downy-faced whelp of a private to do.  Dwarven generals did not sit on horses at the rear of the line and bark orders at their troops.  Dwarven generals stood right in the middle of the line and boomed those orders over the din with voices trained over the years to carry over the loudest battle, accompanied by a flag officer who waved certain flags to reinforce those commands.

        Dwarven generals were warriors before they were generals.

        As the sun rose over the hills to the southeast, the enemy moved in and set up.  Though more than half of their forces hadn’t even reached the staging area yet, there was already a seething sea of stinking humans facing them across the narrow valley that would serve as a chokepoint to prevent them from flanking his forces.  He could see that those flying figures in the distance that were hovering over their armies had to be flying scouts, and they were reporting the position and fortifications of the Dwarven lines.  That meant that the commander of the enemy forces was now making a decision, debating where and how to hit the fortified line.

        That line was formidable.  They’d dug a deep trench through the middle of the valley and filled it with sharpened stakes, then piled the dirt up on the far side to form a rampart that was would be manned by Dwarves with long pikes to kill anything that tried to climb up.  Beyond that was an empty area, and then there was a zigzagging low wall of logs, behind which the rest of the army would stand ready to repel any invaders.  Behind them was a natural rise in the valley floor, upon which were stationed all the magic-users, to give them an unobstructed line of sight to the open area beyond the log wall.  Archers armed with crossbows were on the hillsides to either side of the log wall, so their elevation would give them greater range, to make the very act of reaching the trench a dangerous one.  Their reserves were stationed behind the magic-users, in the open area beyond the valley, ready to rush in and support, and also ready to run forward with long planks that would be thrown over the rampart and trench to allow the Dwarven army to rush across the obstacle and press the planned counterattack.  They were well positioned and safely entrenched behind solid fortifications.  They were ready for the enemy army.

        But Bragg saw no Demons other than the fliers in that army…which were what was supposed to make this such a dangerous battle.  No, wait, now he saw one, and an evil looking monster it was at that.  It was a gruesome looking thing, looking like a human woman with six arms, but it was like someone cut her in half at the waist and stuck her on the end of a giant snake.  Eerie looking witch, there wasn’t any doubt about that, despite the fact that her head looked completely human, and she had an impressive pair of uncovered breasts waggling freely about in the morning breeze.  She slithered out on that snake body ahead of the forces, and boldly used some kind of spyglass to look over the fortifications his men had made over the last few days.  Then Bragg saw another Demon, this one a disgusting looking thing that looked like some kind of cross between a frog and a lizard that walked on two legs like a man.  It rushed out of the formation of rather nervous-looking humans and seemed to talk to six-arms, then it just disappeared like it wasn’t there!

        “Shaz’Baket!” Lady Dolanna gasped from well behind him, where the other magicians were gathered and prepared to repel the Demons.  “They sent Shaz’Baket!”

        “Ye know that six-armed wench, Lady Dolanna?” Bragg asked.

        “She has been a thorn in our side for many years, General Bragg,” she answered.  “Send for Kang immediately, General!  This Demon is not a general you take for granted!  And have Sarraya inform Tarrin she is here!”

        “General?  That woman’s leadin’ the enemy army?”

        “And she will do it flawlessly, General Bragg!” Dolanna warned.  “Have Kang join us immediately, General!  It will take both of you to best this one on a battlefield!”

        That didn’t seem to be necessary, for Kang was thundering in on his Pegasus as fast as the animal would carry him.  “Dolanna, is that who I think it is?” he shouted before he got there.

        “It is, General Kang!”

        “Recall all available reserves from the Iron Mountain AT ONCE!” Kang boomed in a mighty voice.  “Binter!  Binter!”

        It was sudden chaos as Kang issued twenty commands in the span of two heartbeats, and without consulting General Bragg.  The Dwarves seemed reluctant at first to obey, but a voice that cracked like a whip motivated them into obedience, as Kang issued his orders in a blistering voice that would make his own mother jump to obey.  Kang quickly reorganized the entire front line, and pulled them all back behind the log wall.

        “Sarraya!” Kang screamed.  “Sarraya, go back to Tarrin and tell him that Shaz’Baket is commanding the enemy army!  We need him down here with us immediately!  Binter, pull back the Vendari and the Knights behind the front lines and be ready to move quickly to any part of the lines where you’re needed!  And send a runner to recall Tsukatta immediately!  He’s with the third reserve brigade!”

        “This goes against our plan,” Bragg protested.

        “We need to change the plan,” Kang spat.  “I’ve faced this one before, Bragg.  She’s as dangerous as they come.  We made our plans based on the assumption we’d be facing a human general!  This one’s smarter than any human general the One has at his disposal, and she’s not going to make this easy!  We can still win, but it’s not going to happen the way we had it planned!”

        “It’s so nice to be appreciated,” a disembodied voice purred maliciously between the Arakite and the Dwarven generals.

        “I hope you brought lots of corpse carts, Shaz’Baket,” Kang grated in reply.  “And you’re a fool for revealing your ability to eavesdrop.”

        “Oh come now, I’ve looked forward to this moment for years, Kang,” she answered eagerly.  “I’ve never forgiven you for defeating me at Suld.  I know it was you who commanded the armies.  Now I’m here to exact my revenge by defeating you and your Dwarven allies…and I’ll do it without any additional help.  What does it prove to beat you when I know your plan?  So go ahead and make your plans, make sure I can’t pick them up.  I want you to come at me with everything you’ve got, human, and then I’ll grind you into the dust.  I’ll show you, I’ll show EVERYONE, that I am the superior commander!” she screamed hysterically.  “Today I regain my respect!  Today I prove that no human can defeat me on the field of battle!  Come, Kang!  Come and taste your death!”

        There was protracted silence.  Kang looked back to the magicians, and Neh nodded as if to say that Shaz’Baket could no longer hear what was being said.  “I think she’s a bit irritated,” he said with mild amusement, but his face was grim.

        “Ye’ve faced her before, eh?” Bragg asked.

        He nodded.  “Many years ago.  She came this close to winning that battle,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger a hair’s breadth apart.  “She’s one of the most brilliant military minds I’ve ever had to face, Bragg, and I won’t deny it.  If you wanted a war, my friend, you just got one.”

        “If ye’ve fought her before, then I’d say that ye should have complete command,” he said with respect in his voice.  “Ye have the advantage of experience.”

        “That’s gracious of you, General,” Kang said with a grave nod.  “But I didn’t beat her alone last time, and I won’t beat her alone this time.  We had quite a few gifted strategists that day.  In actuality, it wasn’t me who beat Shaz’Baket that day, it was Queen Keritanima-Chan Eram.  She made a critical tactical decision on the battlefield that turned out to bring us victory in the end.”

        “Well, be that as it may, what do ye suggest we do?”

        “First, force her to commit her Demons to the battle.  She has them hidden somewhere.  And there’s only one way that we can do that without exposing our forces to her numerical advantage.”

        All of them looked back to the Iron Mountain, their eyes affixed to the summit.

        “He parks himself between us and the enemy.  She’d be a maniac to send her human soldiers with him standing in the way in dragon form.  He just has to be close enough so the magicians can assist him when she sends her Demons to attack.”

        “Aye, that’s sound thinking,” Bragg agreed with a nod.

        “Uh, Kang,” Ulger said grimly.  “You think Sarraya got up there yet?”

        “I doubt it, Ulger.  Why?”

        “Because here he comes!” he shouted, pointing to the sky.

        They all looked up and saw a huge dragon descending from the mountain’s peak.  But where usually golden scales would shimmer in the morning sun, now blue scales shone in the dawn’s light, and a sleeker head, with more slender horns and a more rounded snout, topped the draconic body.  The blue dragon bellowed a keening cry full of rage and fury, and it adjusted its speeding dive to angle itself directly into the forces of the enemy…directly at Shaz’Baket.

        “He knows she is here!” Dolanna screamed in fear.  “Kang, Tarrin is out of this battle!”

        “What do ye mean?” Bragg asked as Kang swore sulfurously.

        “Tarrin and the Demoness have a long personal history,” Dolanna answered.  “He will stop at nothing to kill her, no matter what it takes.  The very sight of her puts him into a rage!  He will ignore all commands until she is dead!”

        “Well, at least he’ll keep her busy,” Kang said darkly.  “She might have trouble leading her forces with Tarrin chasing her around the battlefield. Set pikes and prepare to stand fast!” Kang boomed.

        “Dolanna…I think Shaz’Baket made herself noticeable on purpose,” Kimmie said fearfully.  “I think she meant to draw Tarrin out.”

        “I know, dear one, but there is nothing we can now,” she said fretfully.  “She will send her Demons after him.  We can only hope he is strong enough to escape the trap she has baited with her own body.”

        With a roar that thundered across the valley, the blue dragon screamed over the reserves and the front lines of the Dura, creating a powerful backdraft of wind with his passing, so low to the ground that the tips of his wings nearly brushed the hillsides that formed the narrow valley between them.  He careened into flat plain beyond those hillsides, his maw open and ready to swallow the Demon whole.

        She gave an evil smile, but that smile turned to a horrified expression when the boundary of Tarrin’s Ward, centered on himself, that prevented Demons from using their innate power to teleport away, washed over her.  And then she sensed the second Ward created within the first, a Ward that would kill any Demon who touched it.

        But that Ward touched Shaz’Baket, and seemed to waver, to encounter some vast power that rose to oppose it.  It buckled under the pressure of that massive power, and then was broken.

        Shaz’Baket was protected by some strange power, and that protection saved her from instant death.

        Even without the instant death, the power that protected Shaz’Baket from the killing Ward did nothing to disrupt the Ward that prevented her from teleporting to safety.  The Demoness turned and desperately lunged aside even as Tarrin’s jaws snapped shut, moving just fast enough to save herself from a much more agonizing but no less final instant death.

        The dragon crashed into the ground, unable to pull out of his dive, moving with such speed that he slid almost a quarter of a longspan, losing scales as his massive form plowed the ground.  An entire formation of the One’s soldiers vanished in a cloud of dust and an earth-shaking crashing roar, crushed and mangled into unrecognizable forms by the tons and tons of weight that drove them beneath it.

        For a moment, there was stunned silence, only the echoes of the impact with the ground bouncing off the mountains to the north.  The cloud of dust expanded and ascended into the air, but then it suddenly shuddered, contracted, and then was torn apart by massive wings.  The blue dragon appeared within the remnants of the cloud of dust, its sleek form marred with patches of lost scales, and gruesome dark stains that were all that was left of some of the soldiers that were crushed under it when it slid across the earth.  There was nothing but a deep, wide scar in the grassy plain leading to the dragon’s form.

        Almost as soon as Tarrin regained his feet, hundreds of Demons simply appeared all around him, but beyond the perimeter of his Ward, some hundred spans away in every direction.  Demons of all kinds, from demi-Demon manes even to two mighty balor, forming an encompassing ring around him.  Every single one of them was armed with a twenty span long lance, the shafts made of wood or bone or metal or other materials, but all were capped with a three-barbed spearhead that was sleek and deadly, specifically made to punch through the scales of a dragon and get hung up inside the flesh by the barbs.  Human soldiers lost their discipline and fled in terror as the dragon regained its feet, struck by the terror that little races felt facing a dragon, or perhaps terrified of the Demons that were now among them.  Either way, they ran in every direction that would take them further away from the dragon.

        Tarrin made the first move.  He drew in his breath, a deep sucking sound like the rush of wind in a cave, which caused many of the Demons to surge forward almost in unison, levelling their spears at his glittering sapphire scales to try to impale him from every side.  They knew what that act heralded.  Nearly all of the higher Demons, instead of rushing forwards, began to chant in the language of Wizard magic, preparing to either attack or defend using the only asset available that might stop the breath weapon of a dragon, or stop a dragon from using it.

        But most of them were not fast enough.  With a snap forward of the neck, Tarrin unleashed a blast of intertwined bolts of lightning from his maw, which immediately fanned out to form a wide cone of devastation.  That cone was aimed directly in front of him, and it spread out in a wide arc that electrocuted dozens of Demons of various types, Demons that tried in vain to escape the blast.  He sustained the breath weapon, turning his head to the right as his body turned with it, killing more and more Demons as the ones behind and to the flanks rushed in to skewer him.

        But dragons had more weapons than just their breath weapon.

        Outside of the breath weapon, the singular most dangerous asset a dragon possessed when used against the little races was the tail.  Turning to the right caused his tail to lag behind the turn of his body, and then that two hundred span long appendage suddenly careened around his body, moving so fast that it made a crack sound like a gigantic whip.  It extended out like a gigantic sword, and many of the Demons at his rear flanks, who were so intent on impaling him with their spears, never saw it coming. Most of them were ripped in half by the sheer power behind the blow as that long tail whipped around his rear quarters, sweeping them aside like so much wheat harvested by the farmer’s scythe.  Those that reacted fast enough either dove to the ground or used wings or some other ability to get out of the way.

        The Demons that were on his left flank were the only ones left to attempt to impale him with their spears, but they found that he was ready for them.  Even as he turned, he brought his belly low to the ground, then folded down his left wing and pushed it against the ground well away from his body.  The Demons suddenly found their spears striking the membrane of his wing, not the scaled hide of his flank, punching through the skin of his wing but unable to find purchase in his side.  The wing flinched and shuddered as dozens of spears drove through the membrane stretched between the bones, but then all those Demons found their spears torn from their hands as the wing snapped upwards, taking those spears with it.  The barbs in them caused them to stick fast to his wing, and the Demons were not strong enough to keep hold of them.

        His turn and counterstrokes prevented a vast majority of the Demons from reaching him, but he didn’t stop them all, and he had done nothing to prevent those Demons utilizing magic from completing their spells.  Several vrock and nalfeshnee who had used their wings to avoid his tail landed on his back, and drove those spears down into his armored hide, their points piercing his scales and finding yielding flesh beneath.  Those Demons casting spells completed them in a staggered procession, and the blue dragon found itself being pounded by magical missles, struck by rays of intense cold, or cones of fire, or jets of corrosive acid, or fast-moving shards of stone that cut as deeply as an arrow fired from a Sulasian longbow.  Those magical effects raced towards the dragon—

        —and then simply fizzled away before striking his scales.

        Those Demons who were knowledgeable in the ways of magic immediately understood what had happened.  Protecting the dragon was a Wizard’s spell called the anti-magic shell, an aura of utter anti-magic that destroyed any spell that entered into its area of effect.  It had no effect on Wards of Sorcery that were  outside of the area of effect of the anti-magic shell, which prevented the shell from disrupting the Wards. It also had no effect on the dragon’s breath weapon, which was a natural ability.  The dragon couldn’t regenerate the magic that powered its breath weapons, but it could use the breath weapon that magical effect had already created.  He was simply using up his charge, and so long as the shell was in place, he couldn’t recharge those reserves of lightning power.  It was a layered defense of multiple orders of magic, all designed to protect the dragon from its most dangerous enemies on the battlefield…the Demons.

        The blue dragon whipped his head around on that long, serpentine so he was looking down his own back, then unleashed another blast of intertwined bolts of lighting.  Those bolts struck his scales and danced along them like water on a sizzling fry pan, doing him no harm, but when they struck the Demons on his back, still holding onto their spears to try to drive them deeper and deeper into his flesh, they found targets not immune to their formidable power.  Those Demons on his back were electrocuted by the power of his breath weapon, and all were thrown from him as if struck by a gigantic hammer, smoke issuing from their fur, scales, or mangy skin.

        The draconic eyes that turned on the nearest balor weren’t filled with mindless rage, but instead a cold, calculating, cunning and seething fury, the cold anger of the human lurking within Tarrin, an anger that only made him more dangerous.  Shaz’Baket had sought to lure him out and drive him into a rage, which would make him easier to kill.  Tarrin had used that assumption against her, and had managed to wipe out two thirds of the Demons she had summoned to deal with him after drawing him into combat.

        With an ear-splitting roar of defiance and fury, Tarrin’s head lanced forth, extending along that ninety span long neck to almost instantaneously close the distance between the dragon’s body and the balor.  The creature registered this action and moved to evade the dragon, but it was simply not fast enough.  It vaulted into the air even as Tarrin adjusted his aim, and those massive jaws snapped shut on the balor, impaling it on six-span long teeth and crushing it into an unrecognizable mass of dissolving black ichor inside the dragon’s mouth.  He spat out the acidic mass contemptuously even as he turned and drew in his breath once again, turning on those Demons that had been on his left flank, the ones that now no longer had the long spears that were now embedded in his left wing, spears with which to try to kill him.  Those Demons turned and fled, by either foot or wing, and as soon as they escaped the Ward that stopped them from teleporting, they vanished from sight, fleeing certain death.

        Without their magic, not even Demons were a match for the awesome might of a dragon.

        The only ones left were the stupid ones or the overly brave ones among those who had not lost their spears and had evaded his lightning and his tail, but had not fled. They continued to try to get close enough to use them, but the dragon proved that it was as swift as it was powerful.  Landbound Demons evaded swipes of his forepaws and his lethal jaws, while the Demons who could fly tried to contend with his sail-like wings and whiplike, lashing tail, which sought to swat them from the air and also served to prevent them from getting to his body.  They were working together, the Demons on the ground trying to distract him so the airborne ones could get in a killing blow, trying to turn him so a flying Demon could get over one of his blocking wings and dive down to try to drive a spear through his spine or neck.  Several times, the dragon had to quickly move to avoid one of these dives at him, hissing in pain and anger when another spear was driven into him, and another, and another, as each diving Demon tried to strike him in a vital area, but only managed to lose its spear as the dragon moved and allowed it only to wedge itself into its flesh.  The Demons on the ground tried to rush up and spear him from underneath every time he contended with a Demon diving at him from above, but those that tried were often crushed to the ground by a forepaw, or killed by that whipping tail.  They also kept his attention as the flying Demons rearmed themselves by picking up the spears of the falllen, laying all over the ground, and then returned to the air for another attempt.

        The dragon tired of their tactics and retaliated by rearing up and pounding his wings in the air, over and over, repeatedly flapping them with such power that the tortured earth around him suddenly issued forth huge clouds of stinging dirt, dust, and bits of roots and grass that were driven with the force of a sandstorm before the power of his wings.  The flying Demons could suddenly no longer see even a form as monstrous as that of the dragon’s in the thick soup of dirt and dust that had been kicked up by his wings, found their eyes painfully clogged with dust and grit, and found themselves flying blind.  The loud whoosh of the wings even defeated any attempt to navigate the blinding dust with sound, filling their ears with nothing but the beating of the wings against the dust-choked air.

        They did hear, however, the sudden intake of breath.

        They tried to flee, but had no bearings from which to take to escape.  Those on the ground and those in the air turned in random directions, trying to escape the Ward that prevented them from escaping using teleportation, but it wasn’t fast enough.  The dragon raised his head, then unleashed his breath weapon once more.

        Not at a target, not in any specific direction, but up, and Tarrin used his control of that breath weapon to make it as wide as possible.

        The flying dust and dirt diffused that blast of bolts of lightning that this time were not intertwined, scattering the lightning, breaking the bolts apart into smaller arcs as the airborne material served as a perfect conductor to spread the charge out.  The entire cloud of dust and dirt suddenly became charged, lightning arcing through it in a wild storm of furious bolts, as the cloud of dust provided the lightning a path to ground and caused jagged arcs of lightning to cascade down from the top to the bottom in a discordant, almost frighteningly beautiful display.  The Demons within the dust cloud were electrocuted instantly, falling to the ground and dropping from the sky, leaving only the dragon, who was himself immune to the power of his own breath weapon.

        To those outside, there was a moment of eerie quiet, only the echoing thunderclap of the breath weapon bouncing back from the distant mountains.  Every eye was on that cloud of dust, and every eye flinched when that roiling mass seemed to shudder, then to buckle, and then exploded outward.  The forces of both armies then saw the blue dragon sitting sedately where it had been, head slightly bowed, as four strange forms moved quickly around its body, laboring to remove the spears that had been driven into him.  Each one was singularly unique, an amorphous mass of coherent air, an amalgamation of earth and stone that walked on two legs but had arms that would drag the ground, a winged gorilla-like construction made of pure fire, and a sleek humanoid mass of water that had fifty-span long whip-like appendages protruding from its back.  They all watched as those four things removed the spears stuck in him with both haste and efficiency, pulling them out of his back and flanks with fast jerks, pulling them out of his wings by pushing them all the way through the holes to prevent the barbs from further tearing the membranes.

        In response to this, more and more Demons appeared a distance away, armed with long spears, but behind them appeared a large number of humans, dressed in black robes and wearing collars with chains attached to them.  More Demons appeared, and more, and still more, until there were thousands of them on the field.  It was an entire formation of Demon-kin, manned primarily with the mindless, four-span tall sexless beings called manes, the weakest of all Demon-kin and what served as the numbers and the expendable arrow-fodder for their battles.

        Unable to use his rage against him, Shaz’Baket was resorting to sheer numbers to overwhelm the dragon, and calling on those human Wizards who had been enslaved after they summoned a Demon one time to many, and lost their souls to their former servants to break the Ward preventing teleportation, as well as to try to disrupt the anti-magic shell that protected him from their magic.

        When the last spear was removed, the dragon’s form suddenly dissolved into fire, then evaporated like smoke, leaving behind Tarrin Kael, holding his burning sword in both paws, hovering some hundred spans above the ground.  They watched as the fire of his sword danced along the blade and then jumped down his arms, touching on the black metal bracers that had adorned his wrists for many years, activating their final power, the power that he had never before until that day had the need to utilize.

        The bracers shuddered, then seemed to explode, becoming a fluid mass.  That fluid mass rushed up his arms with amazing speed, then covered over his chest, his torso, his hips, over his back, flowing down his legs, until all of his body except for his head was covered by the undulating, liquid metal.  That metal shuddered once more, and then shimmered with magical light for a brief instant.

        When the light faded, Tarrin Kael was adorned in a suit of black armor patterned after the armor of the Knights of Karas, upon the chest of which was the shaeram of the order of Niami contained within the chest of a dragon whose wings flared out and over his shoulders, shoulders which showed the etched relief of the sword and spear symbol of Fara’Nae on one shoulder, and the hammer symbol of Karas on the other.  The armor covered every square finger of him except for his head and his wings, and it glittered in the light of the morning sun.

        The armored Were-cat took up his sword in both paws and raised it over his head, which suddenly blazed forth with incandescent white light, the light of Magelight, the visible indication that Tarrin was reaching back into the realm of Sennadar and making a connection with his goddess, with his mistress, with his friend, with Niami, and it showed that she answered that plea for help without hesitation.  Tarrin’s wings flushed with that same color, until they were painful to look at with the naked eye.  The Magelight flowed down the hilt of the sword and covered his armor-clad paws, flowed down from his wings to dance along his back, until his entire body was outlined in a nimbus of wispy white magical energy.  That erratic nimbus seethed and writhed, and then it snapped into coherence, forming the concave four-pointed star which represented a sui’kun at its full potential, where mortal and god were joined in power, joined in mind, joined in soul, and united in a common interest.  Through Tarrin, Niami could now channel unlimited power into this battle, for when sui’kun acted within the desires of the Goddess of the Weave and with her direct blessing, their power was almost unending.

        The Demons did not wait to see what was going to happen.  They vanished in unison, guided by the telepathic commands of the marilith Shaz’Baket, and then reappeared at the edge of the Ward that prevented them from teleporting within its boundaries.  The instant they appeared, they charged forward with all the speed that their legs or wings or tentacles or hooves could carry them, seeking to reach the Were-cat before it could finish whatever he was doing, something that could potentially be catastrophic.  As the Demons charged, the enslaved Wizards all began chanting in the language of magic, working to breach the Ward that prevented the Demons from reaching him instantly, for he was too far away to affect directly with most magical spells of battle.

        They weren’t going to make it.  Tarrin dropped to the ground as his Elementals got behind him, and the concave star of the Goddess of Magic turned red, and its boundaries began to shimmer and undulate as Tarrin wove a weave of pure Air on a massive scale, a weave he had used many times before, a weave that was as devastating as it was easy to create.  In the span of two heartbeats, the weave was charged to its full potential, as that shimmering, chaotic flux of red energy seemed to freeze, and then contract around him to form a perfectly smooth, ruby-colored dome of magical light.  Most of the Demons slid to a halt, then turned and tried to flee back out of the Ward, trampling one another while the manes had not reacted to the command to flee, and continued to shamble mindlessly forward with their long spears in their hands.

        There was an earth-shaking BOOM that heralded the release of the spell, and everything in front of Tarrin simply vanished as a rush of air raced away from him at speeds that defied rational explanation, creating a shockwave of pure air that was so powerful that it shattered stone, liquified flesh, and pulverized teeth and bones into dust.  Demons simply vanished into a black spray of ichor as that shockwave blasted into them, sending a wall of dust, dirt, bits of rock, and the sundered remains of the Demonic horde roaring away on the wake of that shockwave of air.  That shockwave savaged the area before him, losing power and energy as it traveled away from him, until it was nothing more but a hurricane-force wind that knocked the enslaved Wizards from their feet, sending a roiling cloud of caustic dust into the formations of human soldiers that were set up well away from the Were-cat and the Dura, and had even while they fought been ordered to move back, to give them room, to save them for the fight with the Dwarves while the Demons and the dragon traded blows.

        Fire may be Tarrin’s element, but his fortè in Sorcery had always been an affinity for Air weaves.

        But the opposition scored its own victory in that exchange.  Tarrin felt the integrity of his Ward shudder, and then tear as one of the enslaved human Wizards managed to complete his incantation even after getting knocked down, using a spell that destroyed magic within its area of effect, one that would affect a weave of Sorcery.  The Ward preventing Demons from teleporting close to him came down, removing his last significant defense.

        The black metal of his armor became fluid once more, then flowed up and over his face and head, then solidified once more to form a sleek helmet patterned after a dragon’s head, complete with backswept horns adorning the top of it.  He raised his sword in both paws as his Elementals flanked him, the blade burning bright with fire, and levelled it directly at Shaz’Baket, who was a considerable distance away, well behind the front formations of her human army.  The distant marilith fumed visibly, and turned to issue some kind of order to the last surviving balor that was now standing beside her.  But before that balor could do anything, fire enshrouded Tarrin, and then consumed him, leaving behind nothing but his Elementals, who themselves quickly vanished.  The Earth and Water Elementals submerged into the ground, the Air Elemental winked out of sight, and the Fire Elemental vanished in a puff of smoke.

        A column of fire erupted on the earthen rampart not far from the forces of the Dura, a column which seemed to freeze like some kind of sculpture.  It then flowed back into itself, changing its shape as the flame molded itself into the form of a humanoid being, at least until a section of the fire flowed outward and formed large, impressive wings.  The flame shuddered and then billowed away, leaving behind flesh and blood and bone and metal, the towering Were-cat in his black armor, wings flared out as if to shield those behind him from the numerous forces positioned on the far side of the narrow valley.

        Although the powerful Ward Tarrin had created the night before blocked a Demon’s ability to teleport, it did nothing to prevent him from using fire as a gateway to travel from one place to another.  Tarrin was once more behind the protection of a Ward that would stop the Demons’ ability to teleport, their most dangerous ability, and this Ward, much larger, much stronger, much more carefully woven together, would be nearly impossible for them to break.  This Ward carried within it powerful protections that would destroy any attempt by a Wizard to dispel it or tear it.  It was literally a creation of Niami herself, woven through him the night before, and no mortal would be the match of a god’s creation.  So long as he was within the protective safety of his goddess’ magic, he would be just fine.

        One by one, his four Elementals reached him, remanifesting themselves, flanking him to stand with him in defiance.  But it was a fifth presence that surprised him a little.  He glanced to his left to see a lone Dwarf wearing heavy plate armor, enamelled red as blood, with a barrel helmet with heavy, curled ivory horns affixed to the sides.  The waggling red beard told him exactly who it was without seeing the Dwarf’s face.

        “I’ll not be dishonorin’ the axe of me ancestors,” Darax said steadily, hefting the Axe of the Dwarven King in his hands confidently…not as a symbol of office, but as the weapon it most certainly was.  “No Dwarven king sits in his keep and lets his people do his fightin’ for him.”

        “This isn’t the place, your Majesty,” Tarrin told him grimly.

        “I won’t be sittin’ in the back,” he protested.

        “No, I mean that this isn’t where we’re going to make our stand.  The magicians have no clear line of sight at the attackers.  I’m just here to piss off Shaz’Baket.  I just ruined her little trap she meant to use to kill me quickly.  I can’t just hide behind the rampart and not let her see how badly it failed.”

        Darax chuckled maliciously.  “Well then, allow me to help ye.”  He then bellowed several extremely crude and offensive curses, banging the flat of his axe against his breastplate and beard.  “What happens now?” he asked.  “I’ll admit I’m still learnin’ the complexities of tactics from Bragg.”

        “Well, she can’t send her humans with me and the Shadows here, because our magicians can just wipe them out.  So she’ll send her Demons to charge the line and break our formation, then send in her humans.  She wants to take this pass so she can flank us and just grind us against her superior numbers.  We want to hold this pass until she loses so many Demons that the Demon Lord won’t send her any more.  Every Demon we kill here today is one less we’ll have to face later.  Once they’re dead, the Demon Lord can’t summon them back to this plane for one hundred years.”

        “I get it.  What’ll be our greatest threat?”

        “The Demons who can fly,” he answered.  “They can attack from the flanks for the rear, and they can get a clear line to try to attack the magicians directly.  Look for Shaz’Baket to send quite a few vrock and chasme on suicide attacks to try to kill the Wizards and Elementalists just as her Demons on the ground make contact with our front lines, to keep them from stopping the assault.”

        “Aye, I remember Kang warning about that to Bragg.”

        “Look for Lorak to deal with that,” Tarrin chuckled as he mentally commanded his Elementals to retreat back to the army.  “And my Elementals, as well as Anayi and Ariana.  I’ve fixed it so three of them can fly.  They’ll be responsible for breaking up the attacks on the magicians.  Let’s get back to the others.”

        “Alrighty.  Nice armor.  It almost looks Duran.”

        “Not quite,” he smiled through his visor.  “It’s something I hoped I’d never had to use.”

        “Why is that?”

        “You know how uncomfortable armor is?” he asked.  “I feel like I’m wearing my mother’s pots and pans.”

        Darax looked at him, then laughed as they turned and hurried back to the others.

        “Did all of that serve some kind of purpose, dear one, or did you do it just to make my heart stop?” Dolanna commanded crossly as he joined the others.  All of them were looking at the armor he had on.

        “Oh, it had a purpose, alright,” Tarrin grunted.  “Shaz’Baket knows she can’t bait me now, and she also knows that I can use my Sorcery.  I want her to think very carefully about that before she commits her forces.”

        “But that’ll make her commit everything,” Kang protested.

        “Exactly,” Tarrin growled.  “Ulger.”

        “Aye, Tarrin?” he asked from across the group.

        “Did you put that little surprise in the trench?”

        Ulger grinned evilly.  “Right where you wanted me to,” he answered.  “Can you hit it without seeing it?”

        “Easily, I just have to know where it is, that’s all.”

        “Exactly where we planned to put it,” he assured.

        “What surprise?” Kang asked.

        “Remember those kegs of gunpowder Ulger brought along?” Tarrin asked.

        Kang’s face screwed up, but Kimmie and Miranda laughed delightedly.

        “We decided this might be a good time to use them,” Ulger said with a nasty grin.

        “You should have told me,” Kang protested.

        “And ruin the surprise? Karas forbid,” Ulger protested.

        “You have to stop hanging around Sarraya, Ulger,” Kang said darkly, then he stomped off, muttering curses under his breath.  But he returned immediately.  “Alright, ladies and gentlemen, it looks like it’s about to get serious!” he called, pointing.  Across the valley, hundreds and hundreds of Demons were beginning to form up, the vast majority of them being the small, stupid manes.  Most of them were unarmed, but the front four ranks of the assembling formation were equipped with the long spears that they had tried to use against him.  Larger Demons were herding the manes into position using whips and claws, using pain to motivate them into obedience.  More and more Demons were pushing into position, and the skies over the far side of the balley were starting to get populated with flying Demons, circling over the army and preparing for their part.

        “Nice armor, Tarrin. Where did you get it?” Ulger asked.

        Tarrin raised his left paw, and the five blades of the Cat’s Claws extended from the tips of the armored gauntlets.

        “That armor is the Cat’s Claws?” Ulger gasped.

        He nodded.  “Karas probably decided that it wasn’t proper for me not to have any armor,” he said, tapping the symbol of Karas on his left shoulder.  “I am a Knight, after all.  I’ve never used it before because I don’t really like armor.  You know that.  But I thought, given this particular situation, it might be best.  I’ve never really fought in this kind of a battle before, so it’s best not to take chances.  Against a horde of Demons, armor isn’t a very bad idea,” he admitted.

        “I never knew they could do that,” Ulger mused.

        “I like to keep a few secrets, Ulger,” Tarrin said with a slight smile behind his visor.  “It adds to my mystique.”

        Ulger laughed.

        “Can Mist’s claws do that?” Kimmie asked.

        “They can,” he answered.  “They can do everything mine can do.”

        “Does she know they can do that?” she asked.

        He glanced at her.  “Of course she knows.”

        “She’s never told me!”

        “She knows when to keep her mouth shut,” Tarrin grunted.  “You don’t make something that can save your life common knowledge.”

        Can’t argue with that,” Kimmie grunted.

        They quieted down and got serious as the Demons completed their preparations.  Kang called for the magicians to get ready as quite a few of those flying Demons suddenly vanished, and then reappeared at the edge of the Ward that stopped them from appearing on top of the army.  Tarrin took his sword in both hands and stood in the middle of the line, ignoring any attempt to move him, and he wasn’t alone.  Over his generals’ strenuous objections, Darax stood immediately beside the Were-cat, taking an offered shield from a Dwarven soldier and preparing himself to stand at the focus point of the impending charge.

        The Demons began to move.  Led by the surviving balor, those hideous foes began marching inexorably into the valley, giving out bone-chilling cries and shouts to unnerve their foes.  A large phalanx of manes were flanked by many assorted Demons, and a large complement of armored Cambions, male half-breed Demons, brought up the rear, all of them armed with all kinds of assorted weaponry.  There were Alu among them, but since Alu could fly, they were high in the sky, preparing to attack from above when given the order.  Tarrin flexed his wings a few times and then folded them behind him, and clapped Darax on the shoulder with a paw.

        “Good luck, your Majesty,” he intoned.

        “Aye, you too, Lord Tarrin.”

        “Luck?  Phaugh, we don’t need luck,” Ulger grunted as he moved up with them.  To either side of Tarrin, the strongest and most heavily armed and skilled of them gathered, the anchor to which the line would cling when the Demons struck.  Darax found himself wedged between Tarrin and Binter, looking like a child between two adults, and Sisska took up the position on Tarrin’s left.  Azakar stood to Binter’s right, and Ulger to Sisska’s left, and to either side there stood a staggered array of Knight and Vendari, armor and strength, to stand fast against the approaching horror.

        There was a light clatter close to his ear, and through the smell of the metal of his armor, he realized that Fireflash was sitting on his shoulder.  “Go back to Mist and the children, little one,” he ordered.  “This is no place for you.”

        The drake hissed ominously, and did not move.

        “This is going to be a war, my friend.  I can’t protect you.  I’ll be busy.”

        He hissed again.

        “Alright.  Be careful, and remember your fire won’t hurt the Demons.  Use your gas.”

        He chirped in understanding, and jumped atop his helmet.

        The ground beneath their feet began to shudder from the footsteps of the approaching army.  They could see most of them, for they stood uphill from the Demons because of  the natural slope of the valley floor, could see that terrifying mass of evil striding closer and closer.

        “Set, shields!” Kang boomed.

        In unison, those Dwarves armed with a shield presented it forward, and their lines contracted to form an interlocking wall of metal and wood, a tactic shared by both Arakite and Dura.  The only hole in that shield wall were the twenty or so beings in the middle, the most dangerous of them all, the ones that didn’t need a shield wall to protect themselves from the advancing horde.

        The Demons began to trot.

        “Set, pikes!” Kang’s voice thundered across the valley.

        A cascade of rasping wood and metal heralded the lowering of the pikes held by the first three ranks, a bristling wall of deadly steel that would make any attempt to get past the log palisade they defended a deadly undertaking.

        The Demons began to run, screaming and shouting in those unearthly voices, as the short manes vanished behind the earthen rampart as they neared it.

        “Lorak, close the lid!” Kang screamed as the flying Demons all began to surge forward.

        Lorak, the Air Elementalist, raised his hands and used his power to create an impressive wall of solid air that centered around the magicians, anchored to the ground to create a solid barrier that would prevent any attempt of a flying Demon to reach them.

        “Phandebrass!” Kang boomed.

        The white-haired Wizard began to chant in the language of magic, a spell that Tarrin had read in his book, but had never cast before.  It was a defensive spell called the spell engine, a field of magical energy that would absorb any incoming hostile magical spell and hold that magical energy, which then Phandebrass could use himself to power any spell that he cast.  Only the most powerful Wizards could cast that formidable spell, a spell that Tarrin wasn’t willing to try because of its complexity.

        Tarrin was impressed.  With two spells, Kang had just protected his magicians from their greatest vulnerability, the flying Demons.

        He didn’t have much time to enjoy it, for the first of the Demons came over the earthen rampart, the mostrous balor, with his jagged sword in one hand and his nine-tailed whip in the other.  It stopped short and then thrust its sword at them, unleashing a massive bolt of lightning at the line, directly at Tarrin.  But the Were-cat brought his sword up and allowed the bolt to strike the blade.  Lightning danced through the fire of his sword, but went no further.  The massive beast snapped out its wings and gave an ear-splitting roar of rage and fury, and then pointed at the lines and remained where it was as its army poured over the rampart, to either side of it.

        The Dwarves all gave out a tremendous cry, a battle cry of defiance and challenge, and the manes charged the line with their long spears.  They charged across the flat, open area between the rampart and the palisade with surprising speed given their short stature, rushing to the attack.

        But then the magicians behind the lines unleashed their magical fury on those charging Demons.  A volley of magical spells streaked over the front lines, and before them, manes were consumed in huge storms of ice that fell from the sky, or struck by jagged bolts of lightning, or literally melted to piles of black goo by jets of evil green acid.  Some fell into deep pits created by magical spells, some had their feet sink into the ground, and have the ground hold them fast.  Some were struck blind by the power of magic, and some were struck by great blows of magical force.  All up and down the line, the charging manes were whittled down in number as they tried to rush across the open field.

        The Demons on the ground were not the only ones encountering heavy resistance.  With keening cries, dozens of winged Demons surged forward, spreading out, and then they began diving at the Duran army with long spears, aimed at the magicians kept behind the front lines.  The vulture-like vrock and the hideous fly-bodied chasme, the long-limbed scaly nabassu and half-breed Alu dove fast and straight, but they all veered away when the fastest of them, those to get there first, suddenly slammed into some kind of invisible wall.  It was Lorak’s creation, the powerful Air Elementalist utilizing his power on a large scale.  One of those that turned away, a sleek vrock, seemed to literally explode in a puff of feathers and black ichor as it was intercepted by Tarrin’s Air Elemental.  A chasme buzzed angrily past its dead companion, but it was literally sliced in half by the Water Elemental’s long tendrils as they slashed through the air from the flank.  The magical creature flew through the air using wings of ice extending out of her back just below those tendrils, and she dipped aside as the Fire Elemental raced past her to intercept two more chasme, who banked away from their assault on the magicians to flee from its long, burning arms.  Several more seemed to wobble in midair and then crash into the hillsides, struck by the crossbow quarrels of Ariana as she fired on them from high above, using her exceptional skill with her hunting weapon to kill them before they got anywhere close to threatening those on the ground.  Anayi, wearing a red breastplate supplied to her by the Dura to distinguish her from other Alu, had circled around those attacking Demons and dove behind them, unleashing spell after spell at them from behind, even as a few Wizards and Elementalists on the ground unleashed their attacks up at them from below.  Caught in a magical crossfire of bolts of lightning, fiery missles of magical energy, and pale beams of magical light that had many assorted unpleasant effects when they made contact with them, the magicians and Anayi managed to break up the organized attempt to dive at the magicians.  Several of the Alu had pulled up and attempted to rain magical spells down on the magicians, but their attempts were absorbed by the spell engine, which Phandebrass almost immediately used to power one of his own spells.  It was not aimed at the flying Demons, however.  He chanted loudly and powerfully in the language of magic, and the balor, recognizing the spell, turned and dove back over the earthen rampart as the Wizard threw a handful of powdered lodestone into the air, which vanished almost as soon as it was released.

        Fiery missles suddenly streaked down from the heavens themselves, a rain of deadly rocks that had fallen from the stars, and impacted into the field between the rampart and the palisade.  Those impact shook the ground and resonated in every ear a titanic BOOM that threatened to deafen them all.  Those in proximity to those impacts simply vaporized, just as they had when Tarrin had used his air shockwave.  The field through which the manes charged suddenly became a smoky, dusty wasteland of deep craters, smoking holes, rapidly decomposing bodies, and noxious pools of ooze burning into the ground, but Phandebrass’ spell had turned the entire field into an obstacle course of dangerous, deep holes that would make any kind of coherent impact with the lines of the Dura absolutely impossible, not to mention the hundreds of Demons that he had destroyed with the might of his spell.  It was a spell called meteor strike, and it was one of the most powerful and devastating combat spells a Wizard could employ.

        But manes were as fearless as they were stupid, and they charged right through the vicious magical counterattack.  Their job was to take the brunt of the counterstroke, to die so the stronger Demons could reach the lines without as much danger to themselves, and in that capacity they performed their task well.  The first of the manes to reach the palisade was skewered on the pike of a Dwarf, as it tried to thrust its long spear through the palisade and shield wall, but the long pikes of the Dura were longer than its spear.  Instead of trying to dodge or evade, it simply ran right into the pikes in a mindless attempt to do what it was instructed to do, with no regard for itself.  Its body immediately began to dissolve into that acidic black ichor, and the Dwarf holding that pike shook it frantically to get the body off the pikehead before its caustic remains ate the weapon away.

        The balor behind the lines, that was now looking over the rampart, widened its eyes at that sight, and immediately turned its head back to the main force, no doubt reporting to Shaz’Baket that the Dura were armed with weapons that could kill Demons.

        The manes that reached the center of the line were not skewered on pikes.  They were instead engaged with swords, axes, hammers, and maces, the weapons of the Knights and the Vendari.  Tarrin and Darax stood solidly in the center of that line, chopping down anything that got within reach.  Darax showed that while he was still learning the arts of commanding armies, he was a fearfully effective warrior when it came to swinging his axe in melee combat.  His strokes were powerful and expertly aimed, but they also did not overreach by a finger.  He struck with exactly the force it would take to kill his opponent and returned to the defense position before the body so much as had the chance to fall to the ground.  Darax knew the intricacies of fighting with his axe.

        The bodies of the manes began to pile up at the palisade, as more and more of them managed to get through the sustained magical barrage and reach the lines of the Dura, only to be speared on pikes or mowed down by the center of the line, but even the dead began to affect the battle.  Their bodies quickly became smoking piles of noxious, acidic slime, and those piles began to eat at the ground, eat at the logs, burn into the weapons of the Dura, and created a foul miasma that was affecting the ability of the Dura to breathe.  Tarrin called to his Elementals for help, and they responeded quickly.  His Air Elemental disengaged from its battle with the winged Demons and streaked across the palisade, creating a brisk wind that blew that poisonous pall away from the Dura, back over the field.  His Earth Elemental, which had been submerged into the ground the entire time, used its power over the earth to suck underground the pools of black ichor that were the remains of the Demons dying at the palisade.  It started at the east side of the field and moved west, creating a furrow of overturned earth as it moved that either caused the remains of Demons to be pulled underground or turned earth over on those remains, either way helping to neutralize their detrimental effects.

        But the Demons were making headway as well.  One of the Alu Wizards in the air over the magicians managed to cast a spell that disrupted Lorak’s wall of air, and the winged Demons converged on the magic-users with coordinated haste.  Several of them were blasted out of the sky by the Elementalists and Wizards who had turned their attention from the manes to their own safety, but those that managed to get through found themselves facing a barrier nearly as impervious as Lorak’s wall.  Tarrin’s Water Elemental hovered over the magicians, and she caused her form to change, to shift, as she spread out her liquid form to form a protective barrier between the Demons and the magicians.  Neh raised her hands and cast a spell into her liquid form, causing it to freeze solid in an instant, covering the magicians in a thick dome of ice.  Vrock slammed into that frozen dome with their taloned feet and drove their feather-decorated halberds into the ice, but could not penetrate it.  Chasme and Alu struck it as well, the winged half-breeds pounding on it with weapons as the hideous fly-Demons used their innate Demonic power to proj