Two weeks after Kasar left with his scouting party, Vorza and Beregar spotted Amaei’s army approach. Larger than Morod’s and with no plan on negotiating.

  “Well,” said Beregar. “I always wanted to die in battle.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, lad,” said Vorza. “These God-kings are powerful, but they’re no Vrodian generals. They’ll waste more lives than they need and in that failing is our chance.”

  Beregar gave a hearty chuckle. They’d grown closer than Vorza would have expected considering he’d chopped off his hand. He hadn’t been himself, but when you see the same face, sometimes you forget. Beregar was a violent man, but deep inside he had the makings of a good captain and perhaps a good friend.

  “What can we do?” asked Beregar.

  “You mean what more can we do,” said Vorza. “Nothing much. She’ll throw her troops at us and we’ll hold here. We trained our warriors well.”

  Beregar slapped his chest plate with his good hand. “The name Blackhand goes far and wide.”

  It was true. Many warriors and nomads had come here to see this free city for themselves. A larger amount than Vorza expected had stayed. He asked them why they would die for this city. They answered with many superficial responses. Glory, gold, and righteousness. Such answers made Vorza think they’d never seen a lick of battle. That wasn’t true. Some folk were here to do exactly what they claimed. Some of them were proficient enough to earn Vorza’s respect.

  “World’s gone mad,” said Vorza. “Used to be you fought for survival and your family. Now people are fighting for ideals.” Indeed some fools fought to earn the respect of Damien Warmonger who was long dead. Folk believed he’d be back in the form of a war god. Others fought for the White Jewel which condemned slavery.

  “World’s always been mad, old man,” said Beregar. “Vrodians like to see everyone as us or them. Now you’re seeing a pot of all sorts of madness.”

  Vorza grumbled to himself. “This is all ridiculous. Amaei is going to lose many lives.”

  “So are we,” said Beregar.

  “That we are.” What choice did they have? They watched the army stream down the dunes from the north east expanse of desert. The Grim Horde prepared themselves to hold the walls.

  ****

  They washed upon the walls with ladders and rams. Arrows hailed on them with each volley. Warriors threw rocks from their perch atop the parapets and towers. Ballistas thrummed and their projectiles found their marks below and exploded into a burst of flame. Vorza and Beregar held the central parapet above the main gate that faced northward.

  Here Amaei concentrated the bulk of her forces.

  Beregar was a typhoon atop the walls. Beside him Vorza fought in the Dancing Devil way, each strike serving offense and defense to blows that most would never see coming. He represented a front all on his own. The two tore through openings or gaps in the onslaught of enemies, giving the Grim Horde time to recover and push back.

  “Captain Blackhand!” cried a voice from behind them.

  Both Beregar and Vorza turned to see Weneshi standing atop one of the towers.

  “Mage!” The tower exploded, but Vorza sensed she protected herself with Green before landing on the parapets below. The debris and rubble fell around them. She cast several Barriers to protect those she could, but cried as she hit her limit.

  Vorza sensed another blast headed their way. He grabbed Beregar and Wenshi, and shoved his way through his own men. Some fell off the parapet. Others were trampled. But none burned in the inferno. The walls stood empty save for the charred corpses of those that had died.

  “That mage is going to end this siege right here, right now,” cried Beregar.

  Wenshi adjusted her helm and warriors around them recovered. Akonai city, much like other cities, had Green infused stone as its primary material. So the walls remained intact and a mage would have to burn themselves out before bringing the structure out. That’s why siege artillery became necessary to take the city so you didn’t burn a valuable asset on the wall.

  However, this person relentlessly slammed the walls with spells.

  “Amaei,” said Vorza. “Only she could have this much firepower.” They coughed through the smoke and warriors started to pull away from the walls. No use letting the death toll amass. “She’ll send the men on as soon as we leave.”

  “What do we do?” wheezed Wenshi.

  “She tore down the tower,” said Vorza. “She isn’t able to do that with the walls.”

  “Walls are as tough as the towers,” said Wenshi. They reached the base of the walls. “We’re going to lose them, though.”

  “So she’s reached a limit with her Body Source,” said Vorza. “Or she’d tear another one down.”

  “What are you proposing?” asked Beregar.

  Vorza sensed the ladders return and a host of Amaei soldiers start to scale them. “She won’t bomb her own men. But I don’t know that.”

  Vorza looked up and cursed. Damn you, Kasar. Your idiocy is starting to infect me. He started to scale the steps back to the parapets that now smoked from repeated bursts of fire.

  “Vorza!” cried Beregar. “Can you be sure?”

  “No!” he cried as he was halfway there. So were the enemy soldiers. “Do not follow me till I order it.”

  Beregar threw up his hand and gave a confused look to Wenshi and the other warriors. “Is he daft?”

  It'd been a while since Vorza had done it. He had to try. “Amaei!” he cried as he met the first wave of enemy soldiers. “I’m here!”

  The fire ball came in immediately despite her own soldiers. He focused on the spell hurtling toward him and the soldiers around. As he fought against the terrified soldiers he aligned his edge with the weave of Red that formed up the essence of the offensive spell. He swung, parrying a strike to his head.

  He extended his will out, letting the harmony of his very being resonate with the steel of his saber. The extra length carved through the spell before the fire ball slammed into the wall. It split into two, dashing the parapet on either side of him brimming with enemy soldiers. A scream cascaded as Amaei’s soldiers burned to death, flailing and falling off into the city. Vorza darted to the surviving host of enemies and ripped through their ranks like bags of meat.

  He focused his senses on the other fronts and saw the enemy pull off from the walls. He spotted Amaei in the distance furious. She sat on a throne carried by her slaves so proudly branded and shaved off all hair. Akonai loved the money from the bloody sport. Morod enjoyed the grandiose ceremony and philosophy of his domination of the common folk.

  Amaei enjoyed being a fucking princess.

  He spat over the walls and the Grim Horde cheered for their victory.

  “For how long,” muttered Vorza.

  ****

  A month had passed since Kasar left and by now he should have been back. Hope started to dwindle in the city as their rations started to run low. Galdeen complained the most.

  “My agreement with Lord Grim was clear, Vorza,” Galdeen tried to reach for Wenshi who carried a crate full of rations away from him. His precious delights and sweets to distribute to the people. He had his equal share and now the effects started to show.

  Vorza ignored him as the warriors continued to carry them away in an orderly line.

  “Vorza!” cried Galdeen, stumbling forward, jaw hanging open. “I’m starving!”

  When Blackhand turned to shoot Galdeen with a death glare, the glutton stumbled back, hands up. “I mean… I am… I am hungry, Blackhand.”

  Beregar walked over to him. “You are starving? What of the people on the streets? While you sit safely here, furthest from the bloodshed in every occasion, they-”

  “Blackhand,” said Vorza. “We’re done here.”

  Galdeen whimpered as they left. Vorza spun when he felt the surge of Blue. He was ready for it. Galdeen targeted Beregar who clawed at his head, his mouth agape in silent horror. Vorza’s saber sliced down the air and through the spell. Beregar fell to his knees.

  Galdeen targeted Vorza next, but the old Devil charged, steel flashing and blood spattering the wall beside Galdeen. Galdeen’s body teetered, his hands grasping his throat from which a crimson fall flowed and seeped through his silken attire. Eventually he collapsed, his face slapping against the nearby wall on the way down.

  “He’s dead,” said Vorza. “I hope the lad got what he needed from him. Galdeen was a waste of precious resources. A miscalculation on all of our parts.”

  Beregar gasped for air. His soldiers helped him up. “Fucking mage. Fat fucking mage. I’d have healed him just to kill him again myself.”

  Vorza waved his hand. “It’s done. Let’s go.”

  ****

  Morod’s army peered over the dunes to the west. Wenshi groaned and Beregar cursed.

  “So he’s failed,” said Wenshi.

  Vorza grabbed the parapet and used the rough, charred stone to anchor himself. Amaei had shattered yet another tower since she replenished her Body Source for another strike. She dared not try many of her attacks while her men dotted the walls lest she cause a mass rout.

  Fear and gold could only hold so much value in the face of incineration.

  However, the free warriors were being whittled away and now Morod’s army served as a seal.

  Except a shift occurred before them. Soldiers from the front line started to migrate away from the walls and over to their western flank. They had to ensure Morod wouldn’t engage. Of course.

  “There’s hope,” said Vorza. “We’re in a three way deadlock. No one can make the first move now.”

  Beregar grinned. “Bastards. All this power. All this wealth.” He spat. “Useless.”

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “What do you think will happen?”asked Wenshi.

  “Negotiations.”

  “And then?”

  “A lot of time wasted.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Amaei will want whatever compromise they make to favor her. Not by much, but just to mark her territory. We will see if Morod agrees.”

  “You sound like you know her,” said Wenshi.

  “I fought alongside her in the Triscourge. She abandoned my army in our time of need. Thousands would be here today if not for her. Tens of thousands more if we didn’t need to retreat and give up land to the monsters.” Vorza pinched his brow as memories started to hurt him once again. “Get some rest.”

  She kept going, the damnable lass. “My grandparents fought in the Triscourge. I want to make them proud.”

  “Shut up, lass,” growled Vorza. “No more talk. Get rest. That’s an order.”

  Wenshi flinched and stepped back, eyes wide and mouth struggling to say “yes, sir.” She bowed instead and scurried off. Vorza sighed and turned to face the two armies.

  ****

  Amaei clicked her tongue and let her slaves place her down before Morod. Morod hovered, but she knew as well as he did how the trick played out.

  “Morod.” she beamed with a dimpled smile and a clap of her hands.

  At the sound of the clap, a servant scurried over with wine and poured it for them.

  Morod lowered himself and levitated the wine glass up to bring it to him. The cup tipped and poured the wine on the ground. “Amaei.” His voice sounded like a mountain spoke instead of a man. Instead of even a God-king.

  “How rude,” she snapped.

  “It’s poisoned.”

  “I would never.”

  “If you didn’t I’d be insulted.”

  “Then BE insulted, old man,” she said, tossing her hair. “Besides, it's not like you can’t heal through it. Or is it too much for the great Morod.”

  “Let’s not bicker lest we bring doom upon the thousands of our own here in our war. I am here for business.”

  “Of course!” she said with a laugh. “Of course. I’m here to take the city now that the pudgy bastard is gone.”

  “So am I…” He sighed. “We are at odds.”

  “Yes, of course!” She clapped her hands and the servant brought food. She gestured to it.

  Morod shook his head.

  She flashed him a pout followed by a roll of her eyes. “Fine. How can we resolve this peacefully.”

  “We partition the city.”

  “And Grim? I want him, Morod. I want that boy to dance for me. I want him to sing for me. I want him to be my little soldier boy who I send to war.”

  “He is not your typical warlord,” said Morod. “He is a willful child playing hero.”

  “He’ll be MY willful child playing hero. I will instill great heroism in him.” She snickered and imagined a world where the brave knight Grimblade charged down Morod and brought his head on a stake.

  “You’re a twisted woman, Amaei,” said Morod.

  “You’re a cold and cunning man, Morod,” said Amaei. “How’re the children?”

  “Dead,”

  “Such a shame. I always forget. Died well?”

  “As well as anyone can.”

  “And Grim?” asked Amaei. “How can we beat him?”

  “He’s not in the city.”

  “He left?” asked Amaei. “You faced him!” she gasped, clasping her cheeks. “How is he? Handsome?”

  Morod did not answer. “Focus, Amaei.”

  “Fine, fine,” she snapped. “Partition the city, okay. Then what?”

  “Fifty fifty split on everything.”

  “Fifty one, forty nine,” said Amaei with a smirk. “In my favor, of course.”

  “Fifty fifty,” repeated Morod.

  Amaei crossed her arms and raised her chin. “Fifty two, forty eight now, Morod. In. My. Favor.” She checked her nails and shrugged. “Of course.”

  Morod sighed. “We are not having this conversation.”

  “Fifty three, forty seven, Morod.” She placed her hands on the armrests of her chair. “IN. MY. FAVOR.” With a flash of teeth. “Of course!” She snarled. “Say ‘of course!’” Her knuckles turned white with how she gripped the arm rests. “Say it, Morod. SAY IT. Say, ‘of course, Amaei!’” Agitation started to make her heart beat. “SAY IT!”

  Morod held a hand. “Of course, Amaei.” He did not grumble or bicker.

  Amaei flashed with rage, but a smile crept on her face. “Good. Fifty six, forty four.”

  His brow shot up.

  Her grin widened.

  Morod did not complain.

  “Good little godling,” she mused.

  An explosion destroyed the dune they stood on.

  ****

  The explosion rattled around them. Iristed grinned all crooked teeth and chapped lips. Kier and Sipha glanced around in worry.

  “What was that?” asked Sipha.

  Kasar pressed his hand on the wood that held up the tunnels underneath. Kasar had found it by touching the surrounding sandstone and sensing tremors that represented empty space. He also heard a drft whistle through. A series of tunnels underneath, abandoned and forgotten.

  Sand rained on them as explosion after explosion shook the interior of the tunnel.

  “This better not fall on us!” cried Sipha, panic in her voice.

  Iristed guffawed and slapped his knee.

  “They’re fighting,” gasped Kasar as he stretched his senses out further and felt the raw power on display. “Amaei and Morod.”

  “This is great!” said Kier. “Quick, Iristed. Finish your work.”

  Iristed clicked his tongue and applied the last few runes. After a few minutes he stood, turned, and patted them on the shoulders. “Time to go!”

  “How long?” asked Sipha, but he already charged down the way they came.

  The rest followed.

  “I hear wood creaking,” said Kasar. “And soldiers. They’re headed this way. Let’s move.”

  They started dashing away as the tunnels grew more and more unstable. Sand started to pour on them and Kasar heard the snap of the support beams far behind him followed by screams.

  “I see the light!” cried Kier.

  Eventually the charges went off and Iristed sang in Vrodian as the ground fell around them and they no longer could run… Or breathe.

  Kasar scrambled to climb out of the fallen sand and stone. He heard blasts as Sipha tried to channel her way out. Kier’s muffled screams came from beside him followed by sobs. Iristed’s boots crunched against the sand and stone.

  “I thought you could run faster!” he cried, snatching Kasar by the scruff of his neck, and yanking him out. “Like a turnip on harvest season,” he cackled before dusting him off, and moving on to the others.

  Kier was a shivering mess of shock. Sipha cursed and kicked Iristed calling him an oaf. The old man ate her slaps and punches till she tired and slumped cross legged on the sand. His grin never wavered. They sat at the base of the walls. In the distance they saw the gods fight.

  “It worked,” laughed Iristed. “Look!”

  The ground where the army Amaei camped gave way. Soldiers scrambled and screamed as they fell into the chasm formed by a series of small, rippling explosions. The duel between the powerful mages did not help the structural integrity of the surrounding tunnels. Glass shimmered in the midday sun as the godly war scorched the sands.

  “Grim!” cried Kier, pointing to the wall.

  Kasar heard the splintering stone behind him before he glanced up at it.

  “The walls are breaking,” said Iristed. “We better run.”

  The four headed back to their scouting camp as the city walls started to crumble. Above, several of the free warriors noticed. Briefly, Kasar heard in the distance Vorza’s and Beregar’s voices ordering the men to leave the walls.

  Pandemonium broke out in every army in one way or the other suffered from vanishing ground or scorching blasts from the mages. In the distance, Kasar saw how each and every one of Morod Red blasts glanced off Amaei’s Barriers and careened off course, slashing through her troop’s ranks. He heard her cackles as she enhanced the cackles with Blue just to show the world what bloody fun they were having. With each spell, dozens perished in flame or shards of glass.

  Her army now looked comparable to Morod’s before this chaos. His army, however, did not fare better. As they rounded the dune, they spotted his soldiers charging to assist their ruler only to be met by conjured fire tornadoes that spiraled out of control. They maneuvered around, chasing Morod’s soldiers before dissipating, leaving behind a trail of glass.

  Eventually the gods ran out of their Sources. Morod knelt hunched over with shards of glass sticking from his face and body. Amaei coughed blood as she held an arm from which a bone stuck out an elbow. The flesh surrounding her ribs were a scorched mess and her bones shone from under the spilled guts.

  Morod tried to stand, but collapsed face first in glass as his legs gave in.

  The horrid aftermath of a mage’s duel stood on full display. The respective enemy soldiers retreated back to camp. Morod had a camp, but was far from home. Amaei had no camp left to speak off and were squashed between Morod’s soldiers and the Grim Horde. +

  With the walls gone, their leftover debris piled up in a great mound of stone and sand, the Grim Horde seized this higher ground and placed spears in the front and archers at the peak of the rubble hill. Vorza shouted for the archers to mow them down.

  Kasar witnessed a massacre as the enemy soldiers fell to arrows. They tried to flee north or east, but with the ruined foundation of land around them, most injured themselves in the process or fell to the arrow storm.

  Morod’s men ran into the scouting army that stood between them and their home city. Their retreat turned into a meat grinder as the Grim Horde gave no mercy. The minced bodies that Morod’s soldiers turned into sickened Kasar. Thousands lay dead around him. Thousands more would follow suit as the mass route led to an undisciplined scramble for safety. No where was safe for these soldiers.

  “We did it,” laughed Sipha. “Grim, we did it!” she howled and danced and Iristed joined her. They locked arms and spun in circles. Kier thrust her spear in the sand, and dropped her helm. Tears broke out of her and she fell to her knees. She sounded between sorrowful and relieved as everything dawned on her. The two armies of the Grim Horde chanted in their respective fronts.

  “FREEDOM! GRIM HORDE! FREEDOM! GRIMHORDE!”

  Kasar didn’t feel proud as much as tired. He also sank to his knees and huffed for air. “It’s over. I can’t believe it’s over.”

  Iristed and Sipha continued to sing. Iristed in Vrodian and Sipha in a desperate attempt to match the words despite not knowing the language.

  Kasar glanced up and realized the two fallen tyrants had vanished. He darted forward to where he’d seen them moments ago. As he crunched over the glass, careful to not let it slice through his boots, he saw the place where both tyrants had been bleeding. He winced as he saw a severed arm.

  Amaei’s arm.

  He saw the blood lead out the crater of glass and northward. He bounded up the hill and saw the lucky few soldiers that made it. They now scrambled for horses and killed each other for it. They never noticed their leaders. Bolts of fire sent their roasted bodies to the sand. Morod and Amaei mounted separate horses and glared at each other.

  Afterward, they both trotted north. Kasar scoffed. “After all that and you just… Ride away like nothing happened.”

  He heard Vorza and Beregar come up behind him.

  “They got away,” said Beregar. “Bastards.”

  “We could chase them,” snarled Sipha who scaled the dune as well.

  “Forget it,” said Vorza. “They have too much of a lead, and we have many wounded ourselves.”

  Kasar nodded.

  Sipha placed her hands on her hips and stared up at the looming Beregar. “So Blackhand? How have you been while we were out?”

  “Having more fun than you,” he said.

  “How many?” she asked.

  “I lost count,” he said, sighing. “Too busy saving our people.”

  Sipha grinned and shrugged. “Guess that means you’re disqualified.”

  “Wait, hey!” he cried. “How many did you count?”

  Sipha paused before answering. “Eighty!”

  “You made that up!” They bickered on and on.

  Vorza grabbed Kasar and pulled him into a hug. “You did well, lad. You did well.”

  Kasar gripped his mentor hard. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. He was just so tired.

  “I know,” comforted Vorza, somehow understanding. “Just rest. You’ve earned it. We all have.”