Vorza prepped Kasar to leave with Sipha and the rest of the scouting party. They both wore their Devil’s Garb. Armored shoulders and a tough leather doublet with a padded covering that flowed down to their ankles. A wrapping cover their neck for facial protection from the sands, and a hood for the sun.

  Everyone else wore a similar outfit for the journey, mimicking Kasar and Vorza.

  “Listen, lad,” said Vorza. “Everything I have taught is enough for this, but it’s not everything I know.”

  Kasar nodded.

  “You don’t know everything. So act decisively, but not arrogantly.” Vorza thought for a moment. “What is your plan? I want to make sure it’s not insane.”

  “I told you the plan.”

  “What is it now to you?” asked Vorza.

  “Same one.”

  “Say it to me.”

  Kasar sighed, but obliged. “We each carry our own rations so we can survive on our own. The scouting party is split into ten battalions of one hundred. Each battalion has a captain. We relocate Morod’s army, gain intelligence, and then wait to strike their backline and supply lines.”

  Vorza nodded.

  “Why the stress?” asked Kasar.

  Vorza broke into a fit of chuckles. “Are you not stressed? This is your first battle, lad. Make no mistake. This is not the pits. This is war. And… you’re my student. I don’t want to lose another.”

  “You never told me of them,” said Kasar.

  “I never will.”

  “Why?” asked Kasar.

  “Because then you will try to be like them. You should be like you, and the best version of you. Not them. Besides, if it quells your curiosity, since I know you’ll keep pushing if it doesn’t get suppressed…” He sighed. “They died in the Triscourge.”

  Kasar winced and looked away. “I am sorry, Vorza,” he said. “I did not mean to-”

  “Focus on yourself. Your battle. Your war. You started this and people are coining it to your name. Grim’s Horde, they call it now.”

  Kasar winced again at that news. “I don’t like that.”

  “Why? You’re a hero, lad.” He chuckled. “Most monarchs might hear a different story. They will see you as a warlord.”

  “I am not a warlord,” said Kasar.

  “Tell that to them. Doesn’t matter right now. Focus.”

  “Yes, sorry.”

  “I need you to also ensure that Sipha doesn’t get out of hand.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kasar.

  “Lad, she is volatile and not suited for leadership. I know you’re… intimate. Do not let a team die in her commands. She is a highly skilled warrior, but you need to make sure you can lead her.”

  Kasar tried not to blush and nodded. The lives of his soldiers depended on a strong command. Sipha was a whirlwind of lethality, but people like Saalia and Kier knew how to lead, and could control themselves. He needed strong leaders advising him when he didn’t know what to do.

  The two Devils embraced for a few moments before parting. Kasar wished his parents had met Vorza. A thundering typhoon with a dark past and a deep sorrow inside. But a good man nonetheless, given enough prodding. A great mentor.

  ***

  Kasar’s army of over a hundred soldiers left that week. With Saalia’s guidance they started their journey toward Morod’s army based on where they would have ended up in a week.

  As they journeyed through the sand dunes, Kasar took in his first free breath of air outside the city in over a year. Dry heat scorched his gullet, but he drank it regardless. The dunes spanned far in every direction, but northward was where his parents died, and later on Kasar was captured.

  Saalia gave them the information they needed to navigate through the desert in case someone split from the group. She detailed the regions using a map and as they traveled and passed key landmarks the captains and Kasar established rally points in case of a retreat.

  During the night, they camped under the stars and rehearsed rally points, signals, and various warcries that meant specific orders. Retreat to rally point Eagle. Retreat to rally point Shepard. Full charge. Feigned retreat.

  The orders had to be simple in order to not overcomplicate the chaotic battle front.

  ***

  Saalia peered over the large dune behind which Morod’s army marched. They heard the clattering noise of heavy infantry, cavalry, supply wagons, and of course marching songs. Saalia proved a proficient guide and route planner. Down to the mile, she knew where they’d end up. An army of their size haded to them would take the path through the dunes they lay perched on now. A few miles eastward, a watch tower to ward off bandits and warn caravans of monsters. However, Sipha and a cluster of soldiers went to neutralize the watch tower so they could launch their offensive there.

  Saali scrambled back to Kasar and nodded. “Everything is going to plan. Let’s rejoin the others.”

  ***

  Kasar and five of his battalions were in position. The rest were stationed elsewhere waiting for orders. If they stored all of them in this ridge, they’d be spotted for sure. Sipha had come back with bloody daggers. They’d dispatched the watch tower and placed their own soldiers in there as an added look out. They would now raise the alarm for Kasar and his army if something went awry.

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  As Morod’s army neared, Kasar smelled a faint stench of Blue Magic. It bore a different scent to the one Galdeen had showcased. Instead of controlling or flaring emotions, this pulse of Blue Magic… scanned.

  “Morod knows,” said Kasar. “He’s using Blue Magic. A lot of it. He’s scanned the whole place.

  Sipha frowned at Kasar. “What now? Abandon the mission?”

  “Yes,” said Kasar. “Muster back to Eagle. Launch an offensive there.”

  “What?” she hissed. “We did all this-”

  “We have been spotted. He is waiting for us to make the mistake of attacking.”

  “And next time? At Eagle, the same thing will happen.”

  “Maybe… But all I know is if we attack now, it’ll be a net we’re swimming into.”

  Sipha huffed and twirled her daggers. “This doesn’t feel good. I was ready, Grim!”

  “I know,” said Kasar. “But now he knows.” Kasar sent his runners to pass the signal and the soldiers retreated from their vantage points.

  “Why doesn’t he follow?” asked Sipha.

  “He’d lose more troops trying to take us out in these rocks and dunes,” said Kasar as their battalion dotted through the jagged stone toward Eagle.

  “I hate this!” she cried. “I was ready, Grim!”

  “I know!” snapped Kasar. “But were you ready to die?”

  “I was ready to kill,” she snarled. They hopped over a rock and then skidded down a steep rocky slope. The pebbles broke loose and plumes of dust billowed behind them. They dashed up another incline and reached a tall perch overlooking an expanse of dunes. In the distance, Eagle point stood tall. A cluster of stone making up a flared out rock formation.

  “Me too,” said Kasar. “Me too. But I don’t want to waste lives.”

  Sipha sighed and rubbed her brow. “I know. I understand. I’m still angry. Not at you. Just… Everything. I was ready.”

  Saying it over and over wouldn’t make her feel better. Kasar needed another plan. What to do with a Blue Mage who could spot an ambush coming? None of them excelled at Blue to that degree. He rated the power on par with Galdeen, except Galdeen said Morod was also an adept battle mage. Kasar couldn’t overpower him like he did with Galdeen.

  His army had magic of its own, but it paled in comparison to Morod. They couldn’t brute force Morod’s magic nor his army. An idea sprouted in his head.

  “I have a plan ,” said Kasar.

  ***

  Sipha always thought Grim’s courage mixed with his naivety was a rare and beautiful thing. However, this plan went too far. Grim proved today that he was not courageous or naive. He was just insane. Plain and simple. Nothing more to it. She’d met a lot of bastards in her life. Each and every one was worse than the last.

  Grim helped free her, and she owed him her life for that. When Grim proposed this plan she was astounded that someone put his life at stake before hers. Or at least more at stake than they already were. The treatment felt so out of the ordinary, that despite Grim always having been this way, it still shocked her.

  Insanity.

  Plain and simple.

  Nothing more to it.

  She dragged the sack behind her with the other warriors Grim had freed. One of them was a Blue Adept named Kier from Ingstad. From the years in the pits her face was as leathery and splotched as Vorza’s and poor old Rhind. Keir wasn’t nearly as powerful as Morod, but what she had to do was so concentrated, while Morod’s scanning spell was so vast, it served their purposes.

  But Grim didn’t know that. Vorza taught him enough and so did the others. But he didn’t know. Kier vouched for his plan and said she could concentrate her efforts on one thing to bypass Morod’s scan.

  Morod’s soldiers found them and ordered them to halt. A few had arrows in their bows, but they didn’t draw them. Yet.

  “We come in peace,” said Sipha. “And we come with Grim’s body.” Such an obvious plan. Such an insane plan. A stupid plan!

  The soldiers glanced at each other until one finally left to inform Morod. Within minutes Morod himself appeared. He stood tall and hovered. The bastard hovered. So powerful was he that he could simply do that when it was clearly the most inefficient usage of Red. Most could maneuver in mid air through forceful blasts of Red or maybe slow their descent.

  To hover.

  She wanted to run and fight at the same time. Morod outshone Akonai’s power with this feat alone. A realization crept inside her. She might end up in the pits again and this time from an oppressor that could hear everything, and kill anything.

  “You have brought me Grimblade,” said Morod, voice as deep as valleys and as heavy as mountains. He imposed his words on them like a weight that drove them into the sand. “Show me.”

  Sipha’s hand trembled as she unwrapped the sack to reveal Grim’s corpse. Only of course it wasn’t his corpse. The daft man had taken a poison Saalia had given him to make him look dead. What had Grim said when Sipha objected?

  It’s just poison, and Raffa can heal. Raffa stood with them and looked as nervous as she felt. Though much of that could be attributed to Morod’s presence.

  “So it is done,” said Morod.

  Did it work? Sipha’s mind raced and she readied for battle, and readied for death.

  “The rebel king is dead. So much for that…” He placed a wrinkled and scarred hand over Grim’s face.

  Sipha glanced at Kier who didn’t look back. Raffa gulped and when Morod’s eyes met the healer’s, Raffa turned away. Kier had said this was a game of subtlety. Sipha wanted it to return to what she excelled at.

  Morod turned away and said to the rest of them. “I imagine you want a reward.”

  “A spot on your guard,” said Sipha.

  “What if I kill you now?” asked Morod. “My guard is plentiful. Why take rebels even if they did betray their own kind.” He glanced at Grim before he trained his gaze on them. They were dark orbs, the things he called eyes. “And the ones who killed their master.”

  Raffa grew twitchy. Sipha was there herself. What if she just slit his throat right now? Could he heal through it fast enough? Was she fast enough? She’d trained enhancing her body with Green for years. All of that would pay off now, or simply end her.

  She stuck with the plan. They all thought she was some wild thing to be tamed and sheathed until needed. She could restrain herself.

  Kier spoke as rehearsed in case Morod didn’t accept them. “Because we are capable warriors and a ruler like you needs such weapons. Especially in times like these.” Her voice was silk compared to his.

  “And what times are these?” asked Morod, arms lacing together behind his back.

  His guard was down. She could strike now. He hovered above them. She’d have to leap a little. She’d done it before to men as tall as that and monsters as large as that.

  But never to a God-king.

  “Times of war,” said Kier. “Akonai still stands free. Others might follow his path.”

  “And a few good warriors can help?” asked Morod, brow raised, lips curling into an amused smirk.

  “A few good warriors was all it took to kill Akonai,” said Kier with a smirk of her own.

  A dangerous play. The kind only Kier could execute with her mastery over verbal conflict. It was why she was in charge of a battalion and not Sipha. Grim had the insane courage and results to show for it. That’s why men and women followed him. Folk followed Beregar because he had the martial discipline and looming presence that demanded respect. Kier had charm, tact, and beauty despite her sun weathered face. The way she carried herself like a lady. In spite of everything she had the boldness to keep her chin high.

  Sipha had nothing but her blades. She yearned for more meaning. Sipha of old, leaderless, and not a shred of leadership abilities would have struck Morod and died or been enslaved. Sipha of now, a free woman, a brave warrior would get over her baser instincts would stay her hand and follow orders for once.

  Morod took the bait. “Well said. I will take you in. You must reveal what you know of Akonai, and of your larger ambush force.”

  Kier gave him a bow. Sipha and Raffa followed suit.

  They were in.

  Now came the real danger. What would they do with Grim’s body?