“Bitch!” someone yelled. Katayoun, her hand emanating darkness. She slapped her hand onto the Abhorrent woman’s shoulder before the hulking woman knew what was happening.

Kuri was there, burning hands punching more holes into the Abhorrent.

The woman dropped Xerxes, but this time he was ready, and landed on his feet. His right arm was useless at the moment, but the fight wasn’t over. He grabbed his sword. Having dropped it, the Minor Augmentation spell had ended, but that didn’t mean the weapon was any less sharp.

With a shout, he jumped forward and stabbed the giant woman again in the back.

Kuri hit her again and again from the other side.

Kashtiliash appeared, battering her even more.

And all the while, Katayoun’s Slow Death spell ate at the woman’s life force.

She flailed and screamed. She grabbed Kuri and tossed him away. At one point, she even tried to flee, but they kept her pinned in place.

Then the monster fell, dead.

Panting, Xerxes stabbed his sword into the ground and put his free hand on his aching shoulder.

Then, cool relief filled him as Katyoun cast Minor Restoration. The spell even sucked his shoulder back into place, causing a spasm of pain that disappeared as soon as he felt it.

“All good?” Katayoun asked.

“Good.” He flexed his shoulder and grabbed his sword again.

Katayoun left to do other healing.

There was more fighting after that. The smaller juveniles weren’t as intimidating as the larger one that had just fallen, but they were still deadly. Xerxes saw more Unsighted soldiers fall. And that wasn’t to mention the dozens upon dozens of spawn.

He wasn’t sure how long the fighting lasted. It seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes.

At one point, he stabbed his gore-encrusted longsword into a stage one spawn, impaling it on the ground before crushing it with his boot. Then he looked for the next monster to kill, only to find none. The fight was over.

The defensive mound was covered with Abhorrent corpses. The huge juvenile still lay there, surrounded by a pond of black liquid.

Everything stank of sulfur, honey, and an acridness that caused the nose to twitch..

Despite the best efforts of the Balatu mages, there were many, many fatalities. With a single glance, Xerxes saw at least a dozen soldiers lying unmoving on the ground.

As his eyes flitted from one to the next, he started looking for mages. He saw Kashtiliash nearby, sitting cross-legged with his sword on the ground in front of him. The bearded mage was breathing hard but didn’t look hurt.

Kuri, blood-spattered but none worse for the wear, was on the mound looking out at the land beyond.

Katayoun was doing more healing.

Gandy, he thought. He didn’t see his friend at first. But before even walking about, he heard him shouting in the distance. That caused him to breathe a sigh of relief. What about Jad and Enusat? Teucer?

In fact, he was worried about all the mages.

Dragging his sword behind him, he started walking to the west side of the camp. As he did, he saw pudgy Tizqar sitting on a wagon, his shoulder slumped. On the mound, he spotted Sergeants Stratos and Arda. They stood over the body of another sergeant. Xerxes recognized the officer. Rostam from Unit Seven.

He kept walking.

As he got closer to the west-side mound, he saw that the forces here had been fighting a mix of the spider-like Abhorrent and the many-armed ones.

He saw Ningal, her skinny arms caked with blood as she cast a healing spell on Teucer.

There were less dead on this side.

He heard the sound of wailing, very faint.

He still hadn’t spotted Jad and Enusat. And who else? he thought. Dasi. Ningummunu. Kishar. Atra-Hasis.

As he neared Ningal, he said, “Have you seen Jad or Enusat?”

The skinny mage looked up at him, and her cheeks were a mix of blood and the rivulets left by tears. And her expression made him flinch. It contained horror, grief, and helplessness.

She opened her mouth to respond to his question but didn’t say anything. She nodded her head outward at the western defensive mound.

“They’re past the mound?” he asked. “Why…?”

Breaking into a trot he closed the distance to the mound, then climbed up the packed earth to the top.

On the other side, he saw Jad and Enusat surrounded by the corpses of numerous Abhorrent. Jad was kneeling, Enusat was on his back.

The short mage was soaked in blood. He had a massive wound on his neck, and one of his legs had been torn off at the knee.

Xerxes gasped, then spun. “Ningal, we need a healer—”

She was looking at him already. And shaking her head.

“Ningal, there’s still time!”

She shook her head again, stood, and started walking back to the center of the camp.

Xerxes ran down the hill.

“Jad…” he said.

The tall mage was holding Enusat’s hand in his own.

“Jad, what…?” Xerxes didn’t finish the question. He saw the tears on Jad’s face. The blood. Enusat’s corpse was mangled. His flesh pale and bloodless. His eyes blank. He was dead.

Tears sprang to Xerxes’ eyes. He had never considered Enusat one of his best friends, but he was a friend nonetheless. Enusat had taken the fall for him in the early failed mission into the girl’s dorm. Xerxes had been Enusat’s wingman on the second disastrous mission. They had sparred together. Eaten together. Joked together.

And they never would again.

He dropped to his knees next to Enusat. Reached out and closed his eyelids.

Jad didn’t say anything.

They knelt there for a long time until Sergeant Vasilios appeared. “We need to clean up and get moving,” he said.

Jad nodded and stood. Xerxes joined him. Vasilios left, and the two of them just stood above Enusat for another minute or so.

“I said we should go back to Tower Plateau,” Jad said. “It would have been safer.”

Xerxes didn’t respond.

“It would have been safer,” Jad repeated, and this time it came out almost like a snarl. Hands in fists, he started walking back to the camp.