"My love, you really do need to have some rest. Battle's not upon us yet," Evinda tried to get Rohmhelt to turn in for the evening in their command tent, but the Emperor couldn't stop pacing in front of the map table. "You need to have your wits about you."

He hadn't even changed out of his blue, red, and gold cloth uniform yet. He even still had his boots on. She became convinced that if he nervously ran his hands through his thick blue green hair any more he would rub his head bald.

"My wits," he laughed as he scratched at his thickening beard. Now that she saw it at a respectable length, she was rather fond of it. Now wasn't the time to mention that, though. "Chief Besix's forces should've been arriving by now and they're not here yet."

"There were those cold rains the other day and that usually slows Varanians down, but..." she started, but he interjected with a sigh.

"Everyone has their damned excuses," he grumbled. "We've given up so much to fall back to here. So, so much. Not too many places to go if we fail here. North, I guess? Maybe swing down to Gadisia?"

"Duronaht's having his own problems," she reminded him, propping herself up in bed. "The Nitandran invasion pushing toward Methrangia. The rebellion in the east. Bohruum invading. You're not alone in this fight."

He didn't reply. He just kept pacing, rubbing his hand on his chin. He glanced at her briefly before turning away.

"I'm having those damn visions again. I keep seeing Mount Pivox wreathed in flame, the whole plateau... I keep thinking there's no way that could actually happen, but I thought the same about father," his voice descended into a mumble. "That all that insanity could've happened... It seemed impossible."

Evinda, for her own part, hadn't experienced any visions but for a warm and glorious light descending upon the fields before Karmand. Matriarch Yldrina assured her the High Angel's return was imminent. Even the other angels thought so, including Simel. She pondered that Rohmhelt might simply be misunderstanding what he'd seen, but she didn't want to encourage him to ruminate over it.

"There's a bottle of Iron's Tears over there if you need some help sleeping, my dear," she continued to scold him. "One way or another, I'm going to insist on this."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled at her.

"I don't think I can until I hear about Chief Besix and his armies. It should be any moment now," he murmured, shaking his head. "We need those Varanians desperately. The Wingmother told me that her scouts saw them coming, but I don't know why they aren't here yet."

Just from behind her in the back corner of the tent, Evinda heard the crunching of brittle grass. When she turned to look at the source of the sound, she noticed a strange distortion in the air just above the ground. Rohmhelt dropped his pointless fretting demeanor and reached for his sword. Evinda sprung out of bed in her nightgown and grasped her amulet.

"Don't worry," the wispy hacking voice said, punctuated by three coughs. Slowly the distortion morphed into a pale red scaled Varanian, with their characteristically spindly scaly build and luminous yellow eyes. Two purple scaled guards uncloaked behind him, standing with their long arms folded politely before them. "I wanted to make a bit of a show of our arrival, given that it was later than I intended."

"Chief Besix," Rohmhelt grumbled as he laid down his sword. "How long were..."

"Only a few minutes. You didn't pay attention when the wind caused your rear flap to open up. It wasn't long, but long enough," Besix smiled with his sharp teeth, though a few were missing from the aged Varanian leader. "I bring with me twelve Brood Masters and their full complements of warriors. Thirty-five thousand in total and more coming."

"I'm most grateful," Rohmhelt said, bowing his head slightly toward Besix. "Can you all sneak around that well?"

"Heh," Besix coughed. "Many, but not most. It's a talent selected for in becoming a leader. It helps keep you alive in more competitive environments."

As he finished, the heavy front flaps of the tent opened up and Lohs emerged, wearing his own gray and purple evening robes and accompanied by six Solnahtern. He looked ready to make a serious announcement, but sighed the instant he saw the Varanians in the Emperor's tent.

"And here I was about the announce that several Varanian columns are joining us here," he said with feigned irritation before bowing toward Chief Besix. "Good of you to make it, at last."

Besix gave a strangely cocked nod in exchange and his long thin tail flicked back and forth.

"Lohs, we've known each other long enough that you must've known I'd do it this way," the Varanian leader smirked.

"I'm just happy that you came, given that I do know you," Lohs said dryly and bowed toward Evinda and Rohmhelt. "Your Imperial Majesties, I think I can leave you to this. Good night."

"Just a moment, Lohs," Rohmhelt said, sticking a finger in the air. "Since battle is coming, I have something to ask of you."

The old man raised his eyebrows and cocked his bald head to the side.

"If it's a request that I command troops, I must decline," he laughed. "Military matters have never been--"

"No, no," Rohmhelt interrupted. "I need you in Karmand to provide a steady hand in the city while I'm with army outside it. This is very important and I can't think of anyone better than you."

Lohs's eyes moved between Chief Besix, the Emperor, and Empress Evinda before settling on Rohmhelt. He bowed his head slightly and put his shaking right hand over his chest.

"I'll head out immediately," Lohs said with a heavy sigh. "And I'll ensure your son and the Empress's daughters are safe away from the city since I suspect there will be efforts to attack Karmand directly, no matter how your battle goes."

"That's a good thought, Lohs," Evinda responded.

Rohmhelt walked forward and embraced the old man, a favor which Lohs returned with a tears in his eyes.

"Your father would be very proud of you here," Lohs said weakly, still embracing his friend and Emperor. "I'm sure of it."

"I'm glad you are," Rohmhelt laughed and gently let go. "We'll get through this, one way or another."

"Forynda willing," Lohs said sincerely. "May the High Angel watch over all of us."

He bowed once more and departed the tent. Rohmhelt's smile faded, his eyes still locked on where Lohs had been standing. His face had a twinge to it, Evinda reached out and grabbed him by the arm.

"Dear? Are you..." she started.

"Fine. Fine," he said and spun around quickly to speak more with Chief Besix. Evinda couldn't help but noticing his excessive sweating, which even soaked through his back, causing his garments to stick to his skin.

In the presence of a critical dignitary, she wouldn't mention anything. But she feared for what troubled him.

~

"Vildrious! VILDRIOUS!" Emperor Duronaht screamed out from his forward command post two hours before dawn. "Here! Now!"

The Grand Marshal trudged forward, his burdensome armor clattering as he scaled the small pale grassy hillock and stood alongside his Emperor. In those early morning hours, the faintest glimmers of light had revealed the changes in Rohmhelt's position overnight and he hadn't yet gotten all of the scout reports as to those movements. He saw immediately why Duronaht was concerned.

Rohmhelt's forces had decided to adopt a classic pincer approach with a relatively weak center and strong flanks as they moved to defend the great forge city of Karmand.

"A big shift overnight," Vildrious stated with feigned calm. "He means to throw us off balance."

"Yes, Vildrious, I see that!" Duronaht scoffed. "Why do you seem surprised by this? Aren't you monitoring his army so they don't steal a march on us like that?"

"Again, with the cover of nightfall and the angels providing distractions, Your Imperial Majesty would be surprised to learn how much can..."

"Gah, shut your mouth!" Duronaht interjected, swiping his hand dismissively. "So, what's the plan then?"

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Marshal Ventov lurking just out of range to hear most of what Duronaht and Vildrious would discuss, but certainly close enough to gain some knowledge of the general tenor of events. Vildrious bit the inside of his left cheek before looking back to the strategic situation facing them on the broad expanse of dry terrain to the east and south of the city.

"Right, again, as we discussed yesterday Your Imperial Majesty, Jagreth's beasts should attack to the south while our main forces push up first to the north and then due west. That should leave us less exposed," the Grand Marshal tried to explain. He wavered while discussing the plan as the Emperor glared at him, Duronaht's fierce eyebrows scrunching at the explanation.

"Jagreth has the better part of two hundred thousand, erm, creatures at the ready and you want to throw them all down south? Nothing to support our main push?" the Emperor inquired, his tone turning sharply mocking.

Vildrious struggled to compose himself.

"As the opening move. We'll smash their southern flank and force them to spread thinner. If they try to redeploy, we charge in with the main army to strike them on the move," Vildrious weakly answered. Duronaht's piercing gaze didn't relent. "It wouldn't be all of Jagreth's creatures, of course. Some we'll hold back."

Duronaht turned his head back toward Karmand and the towering peak of Mount Pivox just behind the Karmand Plateau. Strumming his fingers on the light ornamental plate mail he wore, he finally nodded.

"We might as well get it going. Begin at once," Duronaht commanded. "If brother thinks he can make his stand here, we'll grind him to dust up against that mountain."

Vildrious bowed to the Emperor and turned back to relay the orders to the commanders assembled just a few dozen yards away. Most of them were apprehensive, save for Ventov, who preened and casually looked at the condition of his fingernails. After explaining the plan, Vildrious noted that Ventov lingered behind even as the other marshals and commanders departed.

"Was there something you wanted to say, Marshal Ventov?" Vildrious asked, bracing for irritation.

"Sir, I feel compelled to note that I don't see any contingencies for the Varanians who have just arrived," he noted in his high voice. "Being masters of camouflage, they could position themselves to the southwest of your big push and strike from behind at their leisure."

With horns blaring and drums beating, the army lurched into motion. He knew his numbers well. After the winter recruitments and the summons from all parts of the Empire that Duronaht controlled, he had 520,000 men to strike the forge city of Karmand. All across the line, he heard those forces move forward. Armor clanking, drums beating, boots stepping. Ventov's complaints were a nuisance as he absorbed the grandeur of what he commanded.

Still, he saw an opportunity. If Ventov wanted to fight the Varanians, there was an advantage to be had there. Ventov now commanded the 5th Army, which Vildrious always left understrength at just over sixty-thousand troops. Fast and maneuverable, it was a good match for the Varanians, but no army had fought those slithering folk in a large battle in centuries. More years than Vildrious could count.

Vildrious smiled and nodded at Ventov.

"You make a good point, Marshal Ventov. Yes, you should take 5th Army around the left flank and protect our push westward. Absolutely," Vildrious said, fighting back his smirk. "If you can stop them from undermining our whole offensive, you'll receive the Order of Methrangia for your services. I'll tell the Emperor that there's been a change in plans at your suggestion. To avoid confusion."

Ventov brushed his right hand at the various medals on his pristine uniform and bowed toward Vildrious.

"I'll see your commands fulfilled to the utmost, sir," Ventov answered, his mass of hair flopping forward and then back as he sprung up. Without saying another word, he called his horse forward with a whistle and was off to command his troops.

Vildrious smirked, indulging his full amusement at the situation, glanced westward where he saw Duronaht standing impassively watching his army crawl forward toward his brother's capital city.

And when the Emperor asks me why you've veered off course, Marshal Ventov, I'll be just as surprised as he is. Be sure of that.

~

Immersed in the currents of the shallow, but rapid, Nulpan River, the Water Angel Cyrona took her measure of the movements of both Duronaht's army and his allied angels. Parlon and Gorondos, she sensed, swung north with the bulk of the ordinary army. Jagreth, south. Omonrel stayed in reserve. Myrvaness flited about, not committing herself to anything as yet.

Typical, she scoffed as an especially long green and golden fish native to the Nulpan River glided past her. Also in her river were thousands of amphibious beasts called "Gokani" by the locals. About six feet long with sleek blue and purple mottled skin, they had huge mouths and two long rubbery clawed arms that would sift for prey on the bottom of the river or near the shorelines. This time, though, their purpose would be different. They would have to slay Jagreth's beasts.

A great horde of Jagreth's monstrosities lumbered down from the northeast. Down from the low rolling hills and onto the broad flat brown grasslands leading toward the Nulpan River. The ground shook and trembled under the weight of their numbers.

"Cyrona, are you in need of assistance?" Tathyk's voice gently rumbled in her head. "I could..."

"That is not necessary, Tathyk," she responded. "I have little to worry about from Jagreth."

She sensed he inteaded to question her since the bulk of Jagreth's forces meant to evade the river. Instead, Jagreth would strike at a modest detachment of Emperor Rohmhelt's troops that were located just to the east the easternmost branch of the Nulpan River. Easy prey. A small morsel before the slaughter he intended to inflict upon Rohmhelt's soldiers and some of Aberos's own beasts.

"Worry not. Matters are well in hand," she added to Tathyk as she slowly closed her right hand while floating in the river's waters.

Stretching and straining, she pulled fantastically large amounts of water from the Cersomin River hundreds of miles to the east in a thin layer under the soil being trampled upon by these miserable louts. The land under the dusty topsoil ached with the burden of the water it bore. Even for the Water Angel, to maintain such a bounty of her precious resource this close to the surface greatly taxed her.

"Cyrona," Aberos's voice next came to her, "I stand ready to commit my creations against Jagreth, but I do not think them sufficient. He has more than I..."

"Once I am done with them, Aberos, they will be plenty to match him," she assured him. "Trust me."

"I will trust you," the Barrens Angel replied with a laugh.

Meanwhile, she kept focusing all of her energies on building the water beneath the ground while the horrible weight of Jagreth's creatures pressed down from above. The Beast Angel himself was close. She could almost see his brilliant crimson skin amidst the countless abominable monsters he directed forward. Any attack by her would bring nearly instant combat with Jagreth. His rage would drive him to chase her to the ends of the world. There was no avoiding that.

She braced as the unleashed her wrath on Jagreth's tightly packed hordes above. Hundreds of thousands of barbed icy spikes shot upward, ripping apart the loose dirt and launching into the exposed bellies, feet, and sometimes the leathery undersides of the throats of his monstrosities. Slohknoas, with their ghastly enormous mouths and tentacle-like limbs, fell limply by the thousand, their viscous blood spilling upon the ground with the now melting ice, forming a vile gooey amalgam. Disgust did not begin to describe the phenomenon for the Water Angel. Other creatures, including spindly horse-like creations that now bore terrible horns aimed at skewering those who would stand in their way, were at times able to jump over her spikes. Still others had hides or scales so thick that her attacks could not fell them. One of her spikes struck the Beast Angel on his right foot, causing a portion of his mortal form to peel from his spirit, vaulting high into the sky.

The screeches and lamentations of these nearly mindless puppets of Jagreth's momentarily stunned her. Only momentarily.

Even if it was not what she hoped, she reasoned at least fifty thousand of Jagreth's abominations now lay dead upon the ground while many more were grievously injured. In Jagreth's shock, the whole horde had paused for a moment.

Aberos's voice gasped in her head.

"Now do you feel like the fight will be more even, Aberos?" she jested at him as she emerged from the shallow Nulpan River to survey what she had wrought. Already she saw the rumbling pincers of Aberos's forces, led by the Bronts, approaching from the north and south. Those towering beasts with their massive muscular arms and legs wielded trees and stones they had lifted out of the ground. Behind them streamed dozens of varying forms of creatures, numbering in the tens of thousands, all eager to strike at Jagreth's legions.

"As you see, I have already committed everything I have, Cyrona," his low rumbling voice answered. "I will try to push them closer to the river for your beloved Gokani to do as they will. You cannot, by any chance, do that again? Can you?"

"My dear Aberos, that was a labor of some days," she laughed. From the middle of Jagreth's horde, she felt the rage of her foe build to an uncontrollable extent. He pulsed in fury, like a volcano on the precipice of eruption. "I might need some help against him, though."

"I will be there at once," the Barrens Angel promised, his tone turning grim.

"CYRONA!" Jagreth boomed across the dusty field. He leapt toward her, covering almost a mile in a single lunge. His gargantuan axe plunged into the ground, creating a deep crevasse. "YOU WILL SUFFER FOR THAT!"

She floated toward him atop a ball of water she elevated above the ground. Even as the majority of Jagreth's horde continued forward, she swelled in pride at the damage she had done. The thousands of mangled bodies of Jagreth's unnatural creations surely took the sting out of the offensive he planned. However, no amount of pride in her deed would change the fact that undertaking it had drained her and Jagreth was a fearsome foe. While Aberos approached from behind her nearly a mile away, she nonetheless kept an triumphant and confident demeanor.

"Suffer for ending these tortured things' lives? My once sweet Jagreth, you used to make beasts worthy of reverence," she scoffed at him. While she spoke, his axe radiated a dark purple and black haze. The Abyssal Aura. How she hated that loathsome influence which had sprouted from the mortals themselves. Much as she knew Forynda feared the Silver Aura much more, there was a noxiousness to the Abyssal Aura that Cyrona perceived as a greater threat. "Why have you done this?"

Jagreth snarled and gripped his axe more tightly amidst the thunderous stampede of his distorted progeny.

"Everything has a purpose. Everything. Theirs is to conquer," he growled. "Yours, Cyrona, is to perish."

His dark eyes glowed a flash of that sickly abyssal purple and black. Such a foul pulse radiated out from him that it deadened Cyrona's spirit. She ached at her core. It was a pain she had never known. What is this? Again, a veil of nothingness overcame her. It lasted an incomprehensibly long, and yet brief, moment. When her vision returned, the hulking crimson Beast Angel appeared directly before her.

She gasped and produced a hasty chain of ice to restrain him. He continued surging. The ice chain buckled and cracked. He inched closer, the Abyssal Aura emanating from him becoming unbearable. She conjured from the waters she kept below her two ice spears that she hurled at him, but he swiftly cut both in two as the ice chain gave way.

A brown and gray flash swept before her. Metal clashed with rock. Before her now floated Aberos, his right hand, encased in sandy stone, holding back Jagreth's axe. The Barrens Angel glanced back and smiled at Cyrona, his emerald eyes flashing within his gray rocky face as his his sandy hair blew in the wind.

"Aberos," Jagreth grumbled. "I do not wish to fight you. You know that."

"Yes, you keep avoiding me, Jagreth," Aberos cheerfully riposted, shaking the stone from his hand and placing it on his hip. "My friend, you can stop doing this. Truly, you can."

Jagreth slowly shook his head.

"You speak to Vorlan too much," Jagreth rumbled, readying his axe for another strike. "You still do not understand. And now get out of my way. Cyrona must suffer terribly for what she has done."

"Done? You and I always used to ease the suffering of beasts who had misfortune befall them. What you have done to these poor things is beyond anything we used to tolerate," Aberos implored him. "I am pained by what I have felt from these things."

Jagreth's mouth shifted slightly and his eyes glanced away for a moment. Only a moment, however. An even more terrible pulse of the Abyssal Aura burst off him. The dull thrumming sensation caused the world to spin for Cyrona. Aberos shook and wobbled where he floated.

"Then I must strike you down, too!" Jagreth resolved.

"You can try," the Barrens angel sighed and raised the sands from the ground while also ripping the bones from the bodies of Jagreth's fallen. With them, a hammer and shield, both white and brown from their constituent parts. "I am sorry it came to this."

Jagreth swung his gargantuan axe overhead and struck down at Aberos's shield of bone and dust. Remarkably, the Barrens Angel's defenses held. Cyrona, flagging from her prior efforts, took the opportunity to withdraw and recover as the two champions of competing aspects of the kingdom of life battled amidst the dead.

Rithys, we could use you now.