Duronaht's shock at the loss of Zarmand lasted for days after he heard the news. Though Omonrel had told him that it was, in a larger sense, actually an advantageous development, the Emperor was unable to see that in those first moments. His thoughts dwelled on how a massive component of his rightful holdings was now obliterated along with countless people and places he had grown to know over the years.

Nonetheless, it did produce one almost immediately useful result. The four cities in "the Strand" that had turned to Nethron came back into his possession without another drop of blood being spilled. Even before they learned that Forynda's greatest powers had been stripped from her by the Progenitor, they offered their surrender to Duronaht in the simple hope that somehow forsaking Nethron, even while joining Duronaht, would be sufficient to spare them.

Their decision became far clearer when Omonrel declared that the Golden Aura had been taken from her by the Progenitor.

"We are now free to seek our vengeance!" the Sculptor rapturously shouted to the citizens of Higruv. "For Zarmand! For Nethron! For yourselves!"

Duronaht could only barely tolerate positive invocations of Nethron, given that he had betrayed Duronaht and his former aligned angels in such a brazen manner. He confronted Omonrel about this as he rode back to Idrivahn. Omonrel glided alongside the Emperor's horse, glowing with satisfaction about the turn of events even as Duronaht berated him.

"Nethron was a traitor," Duronaht spat. "You gave his position to Forynda and sought his destruction. I wanted that to happen, too. Why are we turning him into our martyr?"

Omonrel's crystalline blue eyes glinted mischievously at the Emperor.

"Because it is useful to us now," the angel answered, chuckling in amusement. "None of those fools who pledged themselves to Nethron have to know what we did. It is quite harmless to us to indulge them in their fantasies."

"I suppose you're going to promise them that we'll give them what Nethron promised via his Silver Aura, too," Duronaht continued to fume.

"I had not thought of that until just this moment. My thanks," Omonrel said happily. "A truly good idea. That promise was powerful in bringing so many to his side. Even if we cannot learn its secrets, it will be a valuable tool to promise."

Duronaht glanced around him to see if any others were listening, but near the head of the column it was largely just him and his Solnahtern guards who were spaced far enough apart to give him a fair amount of privacy. With the churning clanging of the several thousand men immediately behind him, it would have been impossible for others to hear.

"Do not worry about any of them listening to me," Omonrel reassured the Emperor. "I have lived among mortals for quite long enough to know when that is a risk and when it is not."

"I'd prefer we not brag about it, though," Duronaht uneasily replied. "What if we keep promising something we can't deliver? Stupid as many of these people are, you can't fool them forever. They'll eventually figure it out."

"A problem for another time," Omonrel smirked. "We are a long way from that now. Now our primary goal is to smash your brother's armies and seize the capital that is rightfully yours."

Smashing Rohmhelt's massive forces like Omonrel suggested seemed a completely hopeless task after what he had seen at the Nehal River. That changed, however. When Duronaht arrived at Idrivahn a day later, he immediately received word that some forty-thousand soldiers had defected from Rohmhelt's armies to his own. When he met with the officers of those units just outside the fortress's high gray walls, their cause for defection was clear.

"This is for Zarmand," one said.

"They have to pay for what they did," declared another.

"Forynda is a tyrant and we need to crush her followers," said yet another.

To all of them, he made a single promise.

"Retribution is coming," Emperor Duronaht proudly announced. "My friends, I swear that you will taste the enemy's fear."

He summoned those angels loyal to him to plot exactly how that revenge would materialize. Omonrel, Jagreth, Parlon, Myrvaness, and Gorondos all gathered with him inside Fort Idrivahn alongside Grand Marshal Vildrious and several other top commanders. His map room in the fortress was far too small to comfortably accommodate the large angels, especially the hulking crimson-skinned Jagreth. Others, by means Duronaht could never understand, shrank their mortal forms to provide more room, but this was something Jagreth refused to do. He stood stubbornly between Myrvaness and Gorondos, dwarfing both of them and pushing them into others.

A map of the central Methrangian Empire lay across a heavy wooden table. On it, Grand Marshal Vildrious had laid out the dispositions of their own troops across the east end of the Nehal River Valley. The Traitor King Rohmhelt's legions, as best as scouts could determine their deployments, were represented, too. The bulk of both armies still lay within a day's march or so of the site of the Battle of the Nehal River.

"Grand Marshal Vildrious, how many men does the Traitor King still have? You said a number earlier and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't hearing incorrectly," Duronaht inquired after a prolonged and fruitless digression into other matters.

"I'm very sorry, Your Imperial Majesty," Vildrious answered nervously. "Right. We think, with defections both to us and just ordinary desertions, he probably has around eight hundred thousand men. Something like that, probably."

"That's still an awful lot to attack head on, but I feel that we need to do something soon while momentum is moving in our favor. With the Strand behind us again and these desertions, now is the time to strike!" Duronaht insisted.

Omonrel motioned for an opportunity to speak, a twisted smirk coming over him.

"If I may suggest, I think that it is likely the case that they think they operate under Forynda's protection. Her losing the Golden Aura is an abstract concept and few outside Ceuna understand it. We should show them how vulnerable they truly area," the Sculptor said, looking toward Jagreth. "My dear friend, Jagreth, has at his command legions of some tens of thousands of beasts that could strike across the river with the cover of night without appearing as an organized army. The Traitor King and his armies would scarcely know what was happening before they were already under attack."

Jagreth's black eyes glared back at Omonrel.

"I abandoned Ceuna to be with these creatures, not slaughter them," the Beast Master growled.

"Oh, of course, and I am not suggesting that you use them recklessly," Omonrel replied in a reassuring tone. "A quick and crushing assault followed by an equally swift withdrawal. There is no need to have them linger for any longer than is strictly necessary."

The massive red angel looked down at the map and silently fumed.

"And why should we use my beasts instead of his armies?" Jagreth said, pointing toward Duronaht.

"Their effect is much more terrifying, my dear Jagreth," Omonrel smiled and folded his hands politely in front of him. "It would make our enemy feel far more vulnerable, as though the whole of this world is against them. A simple attack of some soldiers would hardly be remarkable. Those fearsome hunters you created? They are the stuff of mortal nightmares."

Again, Jagreth fumed in silence, his deep black eyes looking back and forth between Omonrel and the Emperor.

"As you wish. I will launch the assault tonight," he agreed with palpable reluctance.

As night fell across the Nehal River Valley, Duronaht stood with Grand Marshal Vildrious as he waited for the attack to begin. It was an especially dark night with heavy cloud cover thwarting Rithys's two moons and their pale blue and silver light. The Traitor King's camps were brightly lit on the opposite horizon, showing absolutely no sign of concern that an attack might be looming.

Duronaht and Vildrious did not say a word to one another for some minutes while they waited. Tapping his foot, Duronaht became impatient.

"Jagreth hasn't forgotten what he promised to do, right?" the Emperor grumbled just above a whisper.

"No, no. I don't think so, no," Vildrious nervously answered.

Then, rumblings sounded out up and down the line behind the Emperor and his chief commander. It sounded almost like a cavalry charge, but with far more varied noises. Rather than the predictable thuds of horse hooves on the ground, there were scraping and ripping sounds accompanying these, allowing with growls, hisses, and howls.

Scarcely lit by any torches on Duronaht's side of the river, thousands of beasts surged forward, appearing as little more than silhouettes in the pale light. Some were massive, slow, and plodding creatures with thick leathery skin and heavy legs for stomping while others were muscular and swift, armed with claws and teeth. One of the latter sorts, a sleek beast with white fur and frightening jaws, sped past Duronaht at blazing speed, its tail brushing along the Emperor's left side.

Jagreth floated up alongside the Emperor, towering over him.

"I hope you appreciate this sacrifice," the angel boomed.

"More than you can know, my Angelic Lord," Duronaht answered with a broad smile.

~~~

While Empress Evinda slept in their joint tent, Rohmhelt sat in a chair in the tent's far corner, reviewing all of his correspondance for the day. The defections reported by his commanders were vast and troubling. While some forty thousand had defected to his brother's forces, a further seventy thousand at least could not be accounted for by their officers. Rohmhelt's commanders, including Marshal Agrehn, tried to assure him that this was only the weakest part of the army and that the remaining men were loyal. The Emperor was far less certain.

After a time, he put the dispatches down and rested his eyes. He gave his sleeping wife a periodic glance, admiring how peaceful she appeared nestled into the robust bedding. Perhaps it was her faith in the High Angel that gave her that peace, but Rohmhelt could not bring himself to feel the same level of devotion. Forynda's deeds, after all, had put him in this far weaker position.

Horns sounded around the camp, shattering his thoughts and causing him to jolt in his chair. Evinda leapt out of the bed, her bare red-skinned feet sinking into the grass below.

"What is that?" she gasped.

"I don't know," he replied.

Near them, short sequence of three blasts called out. Shouts and screams filled the air, which had been blessedly quiet just moments before. Roars of beasts, varied and numerous, soon joined the cacophony.

"To arms, men!" an officer in a nearby tent shouted. "To arms! We're under attack!"

Two Solnahtern entered in their resplendent amber plate, spears drawn.

"Beasts!" one of them shouted. "We'll protect you, Your Imperial Majesties!"

Torchlight cast shadows of several cat-like creatures upon his tent. They soon clashed with the shadows of his soldiers, some of whom were forced to grapple with these far stronger monsters. Speckles of blood flew against the white tent canvass, soaking through in places. One of the soldiers dying nearby let out a horrible gurgling wail of agony before its attacker finished the deed.

Rohmhelt grabbed his sword and a spare jewel-encrusted shield that had been gifted to him by one of the local lords. He felt positively ridiculous. He'd never meaningfully trained for combat and his stance felt all wrong without anyone having to critique him.

Two beasts growled on the opposite side of the tent's entrance. Together, the sleek white creatures burst through the cloth and fell upon the two Solnahtern. One of the Solnahtern managed to drive his spear into the creature's right front leg, but not before the beast lunged up and brought its heavy teeth down through the guard's thin helmet. With a horrid crunch, the Solnahtern's brains and blood oozed through the holes the beast drove through that pathetic armor. The other Solnahtern fell so quickly that Rohmhelt hadn't even seen it happen.

The white-furred creature to the right widened its greenish yellow eyes at him and lunged forward, its claws drawn and its jaw open. He stepped forward and put out his shield. The beast's claws thudded against the ceremonial shield, buckling its weak metal. Rohmhelt's left arm ached horribly from the impact. He had an opportunity with the sword in his right hand, however. He saw the beast's neck was exposed and drove his sword into it from the side. With a horrible screech, the creature fell dead, its long tongue, covered in blood, drooping out of its mouth.

Its brethren's death didn't bother the other beast, which approached Evinda, who had no weapon or armor at all. Rohmhelt moved to strike it from its flank, but it lunged before he could.

While it was airborne, a bright white light burst out from Evinda, accompanied by a deafening whir. Rohmhelt couldn't see anything for a few seconds. When he could, he saw that the beast's head had been completely burned away down to its neck, leaving a charred swath of flesh. It fell harmlessly to the ground while Evinda stood before it, grasping nothing but a small amulet in front of her.

She looked at Rohmhelt for a moment before she fell back toward the bed, her wobbling legs not being strong enough to hold her.

"Are you alright?!" he shouted, rushing to her. When his hand touched her skin, she felt cold.

"I... I am," she weakly replied and smiled at him. "It just took a lot out of me to do that."

"I imagine so," he laughed and leaned forward to kiss her. She appeared to already be recovering, which relieved him. "Whatever else happens tonight, at least you're safe."