Lights flickered in the distance, the shape of rectangular walls barely visible against the backdrop of grey-blue night. Smoke rose, trailing across the stars above, charcoal filling his nostrils. None moved as they watched the fort. The humans who escorted them stood off to the side, half watching the fort, half watching them. Fearful beings, humans. After this night, they would only grow more so.

Galal led the charge, walking across the field as the night guard turned away. He went slowly, allowing the shadows of night to obscure his form, the other Khor following his lead. The field was empty, a flat field devoid of cover. The guard came again, looking out across the field. They stopped, waiting for him to pass or to respond, continuing their pursuit as the guard turned away, unalarmed.

They came upon the fort walls, stone that barely stood over their own heights, forcing Galal to kneel to hide his horns. Another guard came back around, stopping above them and looking out. Galal leapt up, grabbing the man and pulling him from the rampart, silencing the man’s wail by crushing his windpipe. A soft gurgly escaped the man’s lips as blood dripped from them, body motionless as he died.

“Attack.” The Khor followed, climbing over the low the fort wall and leaping from the rampart into the enemy forces below. The fort was but a castle without a ceiling, a flat field of tents housing sleeping soldiers awoken by the roars of living nightmares. Those closest to the Khor’s intrusion gave yelps and cries, most barely able to rouse themselves before being stabbed or trampled.

Armored guards approached them first, forming walls of steel as they stood between the Khor and the army of soldiers. Archers lined up in the distance, loosing a volley of arrows towards them, pelting their shields, some grunting as the arrows lodged themselves in an arm or leg.

“Kill the archers!” The Khor roared as one, Galal leading, lashing out with his makeshift spear. The spear, as thick as an arm, pierced the closest knight through the chest, lodging itself in the dented metal of the man’s armor. He released the spear, bringing forth the mace from his back and striking the closest shield. The man holding it screamed as the shield fell to his side, silenced by another thud of his mace to the side of his head.

The Khor gathered around him in a circle as the humans began to surround them, their shields blocking spear and arrow alike, their own either sliding off the steel shields or killing man after man. A stray spear made it past the shields, slicing the leg of the Khor next to him. The Khor fell to a knee, raising the shield up to cover his body.

“I’m going!” Galal pushed through the spears with his shield, swinging his mace into the mass of flesh and armor that formed the wall of humans. Two, maybe three heads were crushed or torn off completely, those surrounding the dead men backing away, yelling curses in some language or other. He paid their words no mind, bashing the closest soldier to the ground and caving in his chest with a stomp.

The men seemed endless, another taking the place of those killed, Galal’s entire body moving back and forth. The dead slowed them all down, man and Khor alike, as their bodies began to pile around them. He stepped carefully, plant his foot between the corpses as he swerved through the mess of men and spears, knocking over, stomping on, or mangling anyone within reach. The other Khor moved behind him, a circular wall of blood splattered wood. Their own spears had begun to falter, the tips having dulled and become no more than clubs to swing with. One abandoned it entirely, throwing it into the crowd of men before him, pulling a spear straight from a man’s hands and turning its point to them.

Finally, they came. Soldiers in green appeared from above the fort walls by the gate, the men hopping down from the rampart and opening the wooden doors. Uthain soldiers poured in, catching the fort’s men from behind, crashing into them with raised shields. Picking up the pace, Galal moved through the men, his mace obliterating those that didn’t retreat. Following his lead, the Khor broke from their formation, charging through the crowds of men, sending them to the ground and trampling them beneath their feet.

Uthain knights and the soldiers they led cut through them, the Khor doing their part to destabilize them from the other side, keeping their attentions split. Before long, only a pocket full of dying Darstin men remained, the fort filled with a veritable puddle of lifeblood.

Medicine men attended to the injured Khor. Some had nearly passed to oblivion, but none died, injured at worst. They would heal, with the right care, if what the humans said was true. In the relatively quiet murmur of words spoken by man and Khor alike, Galal gazed at sky, its dark blue color fading as morning grew closer.

One hundred men had rested here, preparing for war and all it wrought. One hundred men died here, unprepared for the Khor.

The one leading the Uthain soldiers, an Artif as they called it, entered once the deed had been done, his assistants scrounging up anything of worth. Notes, maps, books. Information. A powerful force, knowledge.

The Artif, a man named Liard, approached him while the assistants went about their work.

“Congratulations,” he said.

Galal turned from him as he replied. “We were overwhelmed before your men came. A failure, in my eyes.”

“It is the way of war, Galal. For all of us to play our part.”

“Perhaps. But we Khor can be better.”

“Then become better. Learn.” Galal didn’t reply. It was truth. The Khor were powerful, but there was much they lacked. Warriors they were, warriors they could be, without hesitation. To be a soldier required discipline. Time. “May I ask something?” the Artif asked.

“Of course.”

“You are aware of who I am, yes? With what I did?” The colosseum.

“I am.” He didn’t say more. He’d let the man sweat a little. He had thought about it. About revenge. It’s consequences. It wasn’t worth it. Not to him.

“Well, regardless, our next order of business is holding the fort,” the Artif said.

“Holding it?”

“The 3rd division will be coming through this area and using it as a base of operations. The men staying here were a preliminary force. And a test for the Khor, of course. As much as you say it was a failure, we had too few men to take over the fort without you.”

“So they will try to take it back?”

“It’s likely. Once they figure out it’s been taken over, they won’t be able to afford letting us have it.”

“Then the fort will remain ours.”

“I enjoy your confidence, but it will be difficult. I will be heading back with some of my men, so there will only be half as many men to defend as there was to take it, and one of the Khor is too injured to remain here.”

“We will do it regardless, if it must be done.”

“It must.”

“Then it will be done.”