Kelton yelled as he advanced, and it was echoed by the tribe - a cacophony of challenges washing across Goddess' Grove. The last of the distance would be covered at run - a wave of purpose seeming to fly above the grasses. There would be no more dancing to dodge arrows; only one last maneuver remained to put the warriors where they needed to be. Kelton could see the effect the tribe had on the shield wall. The once-powerful were now shifting backward with unknowing fear. They were hobbled by their winters of reliance on the Knowing and had forgotten how to trust their eyes and muscles.

The tribe split in two, every other warrior drifting back into a second line parallel to the first. The Brethren would know too late that their shields were useless weights. Kelton shifted to the rear line, for the last would be first. He would ask of the tribe only what he was willing to give.

Juno shared her exhilaration with Farni. The last of the knot was falling apart, the outer loops no longer supporting the inner ones. Juno was about to let the cord fall to the ground when Farni demanded her stillness. The situational awareness of Farni was very particular. Each step would be examined thoughtfully, not ignored instinctively as Juno would have done. Juno bowed to Farni's thinking.

"Someone is coming," Serenity said, her voice full of panic.

"Does not look friendly," Audria agreed. She sounded aloof as if her previous decision to sacrifice was complete and irrevocable; thus, fear was beyond further consideration.

Juno looked at the Brother approaching, his pace quick and filled with determination. 'Twin tails,' Farni said, describing the blades the man carried. It held more meaning than the physical. It described the way they were carried. 'We must be quick and our timing right,' Farni thought as much to herself as to Juno. Trust was becoming the norm, yet still, Juno felt uncomfortable with Farni being superior with such things - or any things.

'He will know our desires,' Juno warned. She felt Farni's satisfied smile as the idea of the Knowing removed from the land was shared, as it was with the tribe. Juno could see what Farni intended - a risk beyond risk, yet the confidence in its execution overshadowed the terror Juno should have felt.

The Brother was moving directly toward Serenity, his blades rising.

"Nay," Serenity yelled, her face breaking in horror. She struggled to squirm around the pole, trying to put it between her and the Brother. The fruitlessness of the maneuver was apparent in the sobbing and repeated denials of reality as she drowned in fear.

"Here!" Audria called out. She kicked outward at the man to distract him and give Serenity another precious moment. The love and strength of the attempt impressed Farni - she had not envisioned the others targeted first.

"You are the shame of the tribe," Juno said to the Brother, her face a mask of Farni's pure hatred. That the words were spoken in Nagada surprised the man. "Your death will end your story. The tribe will defecate upon your name afore it forgets it." Juno spat upon the ground between her and the Brother. Juno knew it was a curse rarely spoken and held dreadful meaning to those born of the tribe.

The Brother screamed in anger, turning away from Serenity. Farni-Juno smiled to add to the insult. In his rage, the Brother ignored all else and came at Juno. Farni had to hold Juno still, demanding that the Brother commit.

The blade came quickly; a mighty swipe aimed to separate Juno's head from her body. It was as if Farni knew that the Brother would demand instant silence. They ducked at the last moment, his sword slicing hair that failed to follow in time. The blade embedded into the pole with a thunk that Juno felt in her stomach. Farni did not hesitate, their unbound hands coming forward.

The force and structure of their blow caught Juno by surprise. It was not in the arm that the energy was born, but the legs. Juno pushed, her back stiff and straight with an equally iron-stiff arm as Farni directed. The legs became the base of the spear, the heel of her hand defined the point. She drove upward, connecting with the Brother's nose with a sickening crunch. Farni-Juno did not stop at contact, continuing as if they meant to push the hand through his skull and into the sky. The Brother's eyes rolled back into his head, and his body dropped backward like a sack of grain - one sword left in the pole, the other falling harmless to the ground.

"Goddess!" Audria said.

Juno bent down for the sword and, without hesitation, hacked twice to sever the neck of the dead Brother, separating head from body. She was swimming in Farni's hatred, spurred on by her own. She grabbed the head by the hair, and with all their combined might, she flung it far into the field, sending an arc of blood to spill upon the ground. The head bounced twice in a dreadful way, then became lost in the high grasses.

"Rebirth from that," Juno said with spite, her body tingling with fear-induced adrenaline. Never had she felt so powerful. The Brother's blood had splattered her split skirt, giving her the look of the deadliness she felt. The Brother made her do it, and that angered her the most.

"Goddess," Audria repeated, this time with worrying awe. Serenity just stood staring at a headless sight none should ever see.

'You are to run,' Farni thought. It was an odd idea, which Farni knew would not sit well. She was well aware of what was in Juno's mind, and it was not Kelton's desire for her protection.

"We are one until this day ends," Juno replied aloud, her soul holding Farni tight. She pulled the other blade out of the gouge in the pole and looked toward the lines of the armies as they were about to clash. "My love battles for the tribe, I will do no less."

'We will do no less,' Farni agreed. The blades felt so good in their hands. Now the Brethren would learn they had lashed the wrong woman.

Rolic ignored the few arrows that were turned upon the horses, trusting in luck. His mount was inflamed as he was, galloping full stride toward the archers. A yell began among the horsemen, one Rolic found himself joining. The wave of vocal anger sent the Unknowing bowmen into disarray. There was a terrible beauty to the charge, which foretold victory through blood. Even the few horsemen who fell to arrows did not hamper the determination of the remaining. The line held, for the beasts themselves would not slack.

A moment before the first archers were overtaken, Rolic saw the main Aragonian charge out of the corner of his eye. Men and women wielding two blades and moving with unstoppable intent that needed no Knowing to discern. Two lines, one before the other, moving in unison. Rolic's heart laughed, for he had seen the tactic long ago. Perhaps Magna'est had grown too old to remember, or maybe he had foolishly put all his trust in the Knowing. The shield wall would not hold; that much was certain.

Rolic's attention returned to a single archer, a Brother whose white robes flared out as he tried to escape from being trampled. There was terror implicit in the man's movements, not unlike one would expect from a drowning man in the middle of the sea. There was no safety, no time for the Brother to run and avoid what was coming.

The Brother wisely shifted to the right to avoid Rolic's charging mount at the last moment. Unwisely, he had chosen Rolic's sword side. It was a difficult swing at full gallop, but gratifying. The horse's speed lowered the required effort necessary for the blade to do the damage for which it was designed. Rolic whipped the edge of the blade along the Brother's back, the speed forcing it to drag deeply through the man's upper arm. The Brother toppled to the ground, his limb useless. There would be no more arrows from him.

The archers broke into full retreat, many dropping bows as they ran from the thunderous charge. A few drew their blades and stood their ground. At least some remembered how to die with honor. A yell emerged from deep inside Rolic as he chose a new target, a Brother who had drawn his sword. Rolic gave the man the honor he desired, though did not deserve.

Magna'est screamed for the line to remain intact. He Brandished his swords to demonstrate his commitment to the battle and as a threat to those who desired to break. They had to hold the enemy on the other side of the shields long enough to kill the head of the snake. He had no illusion it would be difficult and that many would fall. Time is what they needed, nothing more.

"What are you doing?" Magna'est demanded of Vol'abor. The Nagada was standing there silent with his blades at his sides. A moment ago, Vol'abor was moving like a captain of men, demanding the line remain intact. Now, he looked docile and resigned.

"It is over," Vol'abor said, his voice barely carrying over the screams of the coming horde.

"Kill the demon," Magna'est yelled. "The Knowing will return."

Vol'abor shook his head slowly and smiled. "The line will fail," he yelled above the din, pointing toward the upcoming army. The charging line had split into two, one behind the other. For a moment, Magna'est thought in terms of the tactics of ordinary men, then the distant memories of the tribe returned. The idea of stalling became less possible.

"Fight," Magna'est demanded of Vol'abar as panic grew.

Vol'abor dropped his baldes. "We have lived too long," he said in surrender. "And so poorly of late."

Magna'est anger rose to a level he did not think possible. The whole idea of the Brethren was life, the hoarding of precious time ignorant men thought as limited. It was the true wealth and the ultimate goal all sought. Vol'abor's words were a poison that spread like a disease. Rolic succumbed to the sickness, and now it had infected Vol'abor. It had to be cut out.

It was surprising that Vol'abor did not attempt to move when Magna'est's blades drove into his side, driving upward to end the heart's pumping. It was almost as if Vol'abor welcomed the thrust, his expression holding as much serenity as pain. Magna'est withdrew the swords, and Vol'abor's body slumped to the ground.

"Your daughter will die as you have," Magna'est whispered to no one, his body shaking from the enraged, unthinking act. He turned his bloody swords toward the coming battle. His mind again attempted to reject the oncoming army as the tribe. It failed, for in his heart, he knew Vol'abor was correct - it was the tribe they faced. The shields would fail, for they were useless without the Knowing - more hindrance than help. Time was no longer in abundant supply.

Magna'est shifted his mind to one of survival. Life, his life, was the most important thing after all. He ran to personally direct a group of reinforcements, those ready to shore up the line. There was no need to approach the front early, not when others could wear it down. Find the demon, watch him tire, then strike.

Kelton began setting his steps four paces from the front line, as did all the others in the second line. It forced staggering due to differences in stride length. They approached the line of shields at full speed, the front line screaming as they neared. A few of the tribe had fallen to arrows, though that had quickly ceased when the horses crossed the field. Behind him, he knew the Sorinnians were forming now that their bows were useless and would cause equal damage to friend and foe. They would be the next wave, led by a Queen as determined as Kelton.

The shields stiffened as the men behind them intended to withstand the brunt of the first line. Kelton wondered what went through the Brethren's minds when the first line of warriors halted their advance a step before reaching shields and dropped to a knee. The kneeling warrior in front of Kelton stiffened his back and tilted his head from his exposed shoulder. In full stride, Kelton leaped - one foot finding purchase on the proffered shoulder and launched himself above the height of a man.

For the briefest of moments, Kelton saw half the tribe in the air. A synchronized dance similar to a flock of birds, those tiny black ones who gathered each season and seemed to launch as one without warning. There was a serene beauty to it, though he knew, in this case, it brought death.

The shield line collapsed into disarray. Some raised their shields in reflex to flying enemies exposing their ankles to those of the tribe rising from their knees. The many other Brethren found themselves with only one free arm and enemies on both sides of their now burdensome shield - no retreat and skilless without the Knowing. A few were toppled over when their shields' peak was raised into the weight of a flying warrior. The tribe had decided that the Brethren had proven themselves unworthy of mercy and now they would be given none. The Nagada-Aragonians saw only disease wrapped in white robes.

Kelton landed hard, flexing his knees and then turning with blades moving with precision. The Brother he lept over was in full panic, his sword and movements hampered by the ponderous shield he feared to release. Kelton knocked away the man's weak attempt at a thrust. Spider's-bite found stomach and throat, then Kelton turned to face another. Time marched mercilessly slow as the world took on the red hue of necessary horror.

Juno cut Serenity's binds, freeing her as she had Audria. "Run to the trees," Juno said, pointing to the nearest forest border where the Brethren did not seem to be.

"Nay," Audria said as she rubbed her wrists, her eyes indicating the battle. "I will mark them as they have marked me." There was a commitment in her voice that disallowed any argument. Farni, and thus Juno, felt the strength in the words. Audria thought no differently than they did.

"Then join the tribe," Juno said. Audria's eyes shifted in confusion. Juno repeated the statement, this time in a language Audria could understand. "You must join Kelton."

"I joined him the moment he released me from the temple," Audria said proudly. A smile appeared as faint Nagada swirls grew upon her face. There was no shock or second thoughts as a warrior merged with her. There was initial hesitation in Serenity, though it took only a moment for her inner war to resolve. She seemed determined to travel whatever road Audria walked upon.

"I am with my love and yours," Serenity said to Juno. Serenity's breath caught, and her eyes widened. She almost stumbled as her beauty was enhanced by the delicate lines of a Nagada warrior. "I..." Serenity stuttered, then her voice settled into a determined coherency. Even her eyes narrowed in their new purpose. "I need blades."

"The archers," Juno said. Her movement toward the scattering bowmen was made with no hesitation. She knew that Serenity and Audria would follow without question, for she was armed with twin-tails - their shield until they wielded their own.

A bowman, one running from the chaotic and dispersed horsemen, decided that three women were a safer direction than a path through the open field. Perhaps the Brother envisioned using the women as a wall between him and the horses that intended to ride all bowmen down. The swords in Juno's hands seemed to surprise the Brother. He raised his blade in one hand and used his bow as a stick in the other - an attempt to create distance. Panic grew in his eyes when Juno did not slow and advanced instead.

The bow became tinder as Juno's twin-tails, fueled by Farni's skill, became a spinning grinder that eyes could barely follow. Serenity and Audria moved to either side, a distraction that kept the Brother centered in front of Juno. The Brother took a step back, and then his body halted as the realization of possible escape faded. His ignorance committed him. He chose to face Juno over the horses and made a wild swipe. A poor choice.

A Nagada war cry exploded from Juno. She blocked the Brother's blade with her left blade and lowered herself beneath it. Juno's body flowed into the Brother's space, her legs driving upward, as did her right blade. It pierced the Brother's robes, a growing pool of red spilling out as she pushed the sword to the hilt through the man's torso. She should have been disgusted, but Farni would not allow such thinking. The tribe had claimed a new purpose, and compassion had no place in it. Juno found herself forced to agree, letting the visage hide behind necessity. She kept her anger burning - they had cursed the wrong woman.

Juno retrieved her sword, pushing the Brother off it with her knee. He dropped to the ground, his hands attempting to slow the growing mess of blood. A plea emerged in his eyes, a type of begging that Juno found curious and out of place.

"My...my daughter," the Brother moaned. He pointed off to the west as if Juno might know where he was indicating.

Audria retrieved the Brother's fallen blade and ended the man's breath with a single thrust. "To think I once feared them," she said with a contemplative air, then nodded to Juno as if to say they should not stall here.

They moved on, now only three blades short.

"There he is," Magna'est said. He pointed at a tall head with red hair flowing as fast as the man's blades. Magna'est was too far to recognize spider's-bite, though he knew by their length that they were from the Waitland. He was surprised the demon was in the midst of the battle. A poor choice for a commander. "The one with the red hair. Go - end him, and the Knowing will return." The Brethren reinforcements did not move. They could see the carnage and had no desire to add to it.

Magna'est grabbed one of the Brothers by his robes. "You fool - the line is faltering, and he is the cause." He looked at the rest of them. "Are we Brothers or women?" A miracle convinced the force - a taste of the Knowing returned, then receded as if it were being tugged back. A pulse of victory. Magna'est smiled. "Do you not see? He is weakening. End him!"

They moved toward the line at the run. Magna'est, wisely, did not.

Rolic dismounted from his horse. The beast would have run itself to death and was nearing that fate. He slapped the beast on the ass and sent it running from the field. A dullness returned to the animal as it trotted only a few steps, then dipped its head and nibbled on the grass. An odd sight, for Rolic would have thought the beast would move farther from the mayhem.

A crazed Brother ran at Rolic with a raised sword. Something was missing in the man's eyes as if instinct had replaced thoughtful scrutiny. Perhaps it was that Rolic had dismounted - a foe on equal footing had enticed the Brother. A mistake, for there was youth in Rolic's bones again, allowing the warrior mind and muscle to return in all its glory.

Rolic stepped to the side after the Brother committed his blade. It was a childish dodge unworthy of mortal combat. The Brother had put all he had into a single swing, a downward swipe that exposed his body to a counter. A simple thrust driven over the man's arm and into his chest ended whatever visions of quick victory the Brother imagined. Rolic stalled to watch the life drain from the Brother's eyes. Rolic should have been elated, yet the death only added to his guilt. Maybe it was too easy, or perhaps necessity was a crueler master than he remembered.