Loi Hanalt had never been a patient woman. Impatience had cost her a lot--standing in her family, her arm, and ...frankly, the only reason she stepped back from the possibility of becoming goddess was that she recognized it was unhealthy. But did she regret her impatience? No, never.

It was her drive. It was her strength. For every moment that her impatience limited her, it had carried her forward a thousand steps. It had driven her further in the military, gotten her better instructors, helped her in her quest for vengeance, saved not only her own life but many others... she was defined by that impatience, and at times like this, she reveled in it.

Loi had done this one time before, but no more than that--jumping down from the bridge, a fall that almost shouldn't be survivable, to land on a nearby building. It was not until she was in the air that she recalled in a panic what the God of Eyes had said--that she had been strengthened by the Goddess of Blades, and that strength was now gone.

She had no time to regret that, though, before she felt something touch her mind, and a light plummeted off the edge of the bridge above her, and with an instinct that she did not understand, she reached for it, finding a weapon hilt in her hand. That sword--beautiful, immaculate, powerful--radiated a sense of peace that Loi could not spend the time to understand, and with just a touch of magic, Loi slowed to a stop harmlessly on the roof.

She studied the weapon in the darkness of the night. It was a flambard almost as wide as her two-handed sword and easily as long, the waves of the blade shining in the starlight. Written on it in small letters was a name: Doloi Hanalt.

"Oh, grandmama..." Loi put her hand on the engraving, feeling for just a moment a strong sense of the woman's presence, although it felt... fragile, now. She had only briefly known her grandmother, her namesake, but remembered her as a towering presence, a warrior in the truest sense, and in her childish recollections that woman was indestructible, beautiful, perfect. She was every legend Loi could ever hope to live up to.

The moment passed, and Loi looked forward and south, towards the hill whose portal was still open, still spilling out armsmen, who right now were forming up, with only a few squads moving forward into the city to scout and clear away guards. Of those, only one squad was on the street closest to her. That was easy enough.

As she stood, though, she found herself lighter on her feet than she'd ever been, felt the warm feeling of her grandmother at her back, and she rested her grandmothers flambard on her shoulder as she easily jumped from rooftop to rooftop.

The enemy were too on guard to miss her shadow in the night, but they had no plan, not for a warrior like Loi. Two arrows that came nowhere close arced up at her, and she followed their path in reverse, cutting into one archer and then the next, before making a sweeping strike that beheaded one person and cut into the throat of another. Two swordsmen stopped hesitating long enough to make decent attacks at her, but she stabbed into one very easily, in spite of the chainmail that should have stopped the blade.

Don't stab, her grandmama's spirit warned her. Wave blade catches, sticks. Slash. Draw while you cut, use the waves.

So Loi kicked hard on the man's chest to separate the blade from him, and in two quick strokes, each with a bit of a pull or push on the sword in the process of cutting, she had cut the sword-arms of two more swordsmen to the bone, cutting flesh and muscle, forcing them to drop their weapons. The last few of the squad fell into a makeshift formation for a fighting retreat, which certainly would have worked if they had been as fast as Loi... but they weren't.

When she was done with them, Loi barely needed to catch her breath before leaping to the roof and moving to the next squad.

She heard other voices rallying the people, and understood that the general attitude was one of retreat--to the north of the city, away from the portal. That suited her fine; Ryan--Xethram--had wanted them all to escape the city and head southwest, but this was how that had to start, at least: get them the hell away from the enemy soldiers. If all that was left was retreat and escape, then that's how it was.

After handling another squad alone in the confused shadows of the town, Loi had just a moment of optimism--but then she caught a glimpse of the enemy army in the night, huge and well-ordered, and got the sense that the enemy had spellcasters, including the one holding open the portal--the Necromancer, if she understood what the God of Eyes had told them. If nothing else, when those spellcasters came into play, the city itself would start burning and breaking around her.

They didn't keep her waiting long. With the help of her grandmama, Loi felt the spell energies before she saw any sign of them herself; when she had a moment to turn to look, she saw almost a half dozen spell circles hanging in the air. As each circle finished, the patterned energies collapsed into a point, and orbs of mostly red energies arced into the air towards the bridges that hung over the city.

They were beautiful bridges, Loi realized, as though for the first time. Having something over your head, something beautiful, was a reminder to the people of the city that you weren't alone. They were majestic, pristine, and the baths at the waterfalls served a public purpose, for health and comfort.

She watched an orb strike the main support for the bridge to the Temple. She held her breath, wondering if the momentary pause meant things were going to be alright--but then, with a flash, the ball erupted into flames, and in that light, she saw the rock flying to pieces, the bridge above sag.

It held for a moment, but two more explosions were all it took to reduce the bridge to nothing. After that moment, there was no way into or out of the Temple, and the majestic symbol that something greater stood above the down became a deathtrap.

Loi forced herself to breathe. The people that lived under the bridge had all heard the bell. They had been the first to panic, and people had seen the portal, seen the soldiers. They would have fled. Few would be killed by that.

Regroup, suggested Doloi. Sense many friends, preparing to fight. Sense no leader. Lead.

Loi bared her teeth at the night and followed the directions of her dead grandmother, stalking into the night.

Xechi Minxu's first instinct had been to run for the front lines, but as always, Muir had her head on far straighter.

"Naw, look," she pointed across the bridge. "Few people understand what's going on, right? Gotta talk to the clans. They're awake and are probably going to be thinking they can win. They need info we have."

So Xechi moved Muir up to her shoulder with the ease of long practice, and sprinted across the bridge, while Muir shouting at anyone who seemed to think that the bridge or temple was going to be safe, telling civilians to leave the city, go north, and the women at arms of the Temple to guard them and organize the retreat.

Always, Xechi found, it was other people who were responsible for the great successes around her. Muir was her savior, her best friend, and her sometimes-lover, and she would have been lost without her.

When the Records of the Fallen came to them, Xechi found herself in the possession of a large double-bladed poleaxe, though she did not recognize the owner by name or by feel. Instead, she recognized that the spirit who possessed the blade had the same build, the same mentality, the same sense of responsibility that she carried, and as such, the weapon the older man had carried was perfect for her. Xechi considered the weapon only a moment before putting it over her other shoulder, glancing at Muir, who had received a glowing shortsword, and seemed captivated by it.

To their credit, the ruling Trade house--Selmont--reacted to the goddess' bell by trusting it, and not quibbling over the details, like how the voice that had accompanied the bell was all wrong. By the time Xechi arrived, the rulers of Belma had prepared carts and organized a defensive line, but were hesitant, scared.

Xechi felt out of place trying to command people, as she usually did, but when she saw many eyes moving to her poleaxe, she straightened her spine and slammed the butt of the weapon into the ground.

"Load the carts with any survival supplies you can," she said. "Civilians are fleeing north, those with arms will guard the rear."

"You don't believe the Blades can repel this attack?" A woman at the lead of the defenders, who carried a weapon but had the poise of an aristocrat, fidgeted nervously with the weapon at her waist. Xechi considered it fitting that such a woman--an aristocrat only playing at being a warrior--would immediately get in the way of an organized retreat.

"It is dark, there is confusion, and they have a full army," snarled Xechi in reply. "If we had time, we could not get enough warriors to this hill in time to repel their assault, even with..." she hesitated on how to name the weapons, finally saying, "...the holy weapons of the Goddess unleashed to protect us."

The woman cursed the border clans and, probably, every other clan than her own, but repeated Xechi's commands. She seemed to think, though, that Xechi was now here to take command, and fell in by her side. "How did they get an entire army here without anyone knowing?"

Xechi glanced at Muir, who shrugged, and in that charming way she had, simply said, "Magic."

The woman, who Xechi guessed from her garb was one of the Selmonts herself, started to question that, but was cut off by the start of the enemy's spell bombardment. Of the many red balls that arced into the sky, the most devastating were the three shots aimed at the bridge--but the most important to Xechi was the one aimed right at her.

Swing me, said the man in her weapon. We will fly.

Xechi immediately grabbed Muir and roughly dropped her, then angled her poleaxe behind her and made a hard swing forward. At the moment it was pointed towards the incoming spell, Xechi found herself yanked upward by the weapon, as though she had been unwise enough to hold onto a ballista bolt fired from a massive crossbow, and although she barely hung onto her weapon, let alone her wits, somehow the swing was true.

When the poleaxe met the spell, both bounced back from the other, the spell falling back slightly before plummeting straight to the ground. Xechi and her axe flew back a bit further, and didn't fall quite so heavily, and Xechi could feel the concentration and control of the weapon's previous owner.

"You are pretty good, old man," she complimented the spirit, moments before the enemy attack detonated below her, shattering and throwing pieces of a building around.

Warrior. Must be best. The man's words were full of pride and conviction. Must protect.

Xechi nodded. She wasn't much for introspection, but she knew this was one of those times where she either did better or got killed--and probably got others killed. How can I be better?

See all. Consider. Find place.

Xechi raised her eyes as that, as her feet touched ground. Truthfully, she was an awful strategist, but the Goddess of Blades had clearly thought that she was a worthy replacement, so it shouldn't be that she couldn't understand whole battles... and when it came to seeing the whole battle, she had a new ally, at least.

"Thank you," the Selmont began to say, but Xechi tuned her out, kneeling down and praying to the God of Eyes.

She felt Xethram--different in looks but clearly the same man she'd met--touch her mind. In that moment, she was floating above the city, looking down, and she felt like there were a thousand strings tying things and people together. She sensed many things, many connections that were difficult to put into words, but when the vision ended, there was one thing in particular that she was sure of.

The enemy didn't care about the people of Balant, but they would chase the leaders--the ruling clan of Belma and the Blades of the Temple--to the end. And the Selmonts... their carts, their soldiers, and their uniforms were all too visible, too distinct, and the enemy knew exactly where they were at the moment. The enemy were not here to destroy the city, they were here to end the war.

"Change of plans," said Xechi, as she rose from her knees. "The enemy is coming for you. We have to escape to the East."

"To the East?" The Selmont woman raised her eyes. "Ah... escape in the chaos. They'll chase everyone else, and we'll get away clean. Brilliant." She turned away and began relaying the orders to everyone else.

Muir was by her side in an instant, looking at her with questioning eyes. Xechi picked her back up, doing her best to shake the cold feeling that was starting to settle over her stomach.

"What're we doing, boss?" Muir's hand rested easily on the shortsword, but her eyes were deep, searching into Xechi's own.

"We are dying to protect the people," said Xechi, quietly. "They will come for us. We will let them. They will think they have won. But the rest will live."

Muir's eyes seemed to search Xechi's, and after a moment, she reached around with her free hand and wrapped the larger woman's head into a tight hug.

"Okay, love," she whispered quietly into her friend's ear. "They'll find us, we'll make 'em pay for trashing our home... and... that will be the end of it."

"Yes," said Xechi, almost under her breath. "That will be the end of it."