New chapter, comin' right at ya!

The action's starting to pick up now, so I'm getting into a more comfortable writing routine. I'm trying to write for at least a half hour at least every other day, which seems to be working.

Thanks to: Fireblade K'Chona, oceanmate, DarkangelWings1324, Fimbrethil and Amber Stag.

And the lovely Mischakitsune for beta-ing.

Notes: This is my first actual attempt at writing a large-scale battle scene between humans, and probably the first attempt of anyone to involve the ratha in anything. Kyree and ratha will now be in italics, because it's easier to write in ML's style. And for anyone who's been wondering about what's been going on in Julian's head for the last two chapters, next chapter will show what he's been up to while Rowen's been busy here. Please tell me how I'm doing on the battle scenes.

Hints: There is a reincarnated Herald/Companion pair in this Chapter. First person to find it gets a cookie.

Living in the modern age,
death for virtue is the wage.
So it seems in darker hours.
Evil wins, kindness cowers.

Ruled by violence and vice
we all stand upon thin ice.
Are we brave or are we mice,
here upon such thin, thin ice?

Dare we linger, dare we skate?
Dare we laugh or celebrate,
knowing we may strain the ice?
Preserve the ice at any price?

-The Book of Counted Sorrows.

Chapter 14: Death For Virtue Is The Wage

:We're coming up on the town now. Form up on your leaders.:

All of the creatures sent to retaliate against the 'bandits' split into their respective groups; the wing of gryphons, the kyree pack, the detachment of the Guard and members of Tremane's army, the surge of ratha, and Rowen and the Herald-Mage and the rest of the Heralds assigned to the mission. The kyree and ratha would go in first- to take out the perimeter guards and kill all of the men that they could find alone. The gryphons would follow to disable any long-range weapons and any mages they could find, setting the final stage for the others to retake the town.

:Tarrl, Sammel, get ready to move in… now,: Herald-Mage Kennidra commanded. She was the leader of this whole operation. She'd been trained in combat magic by Elspeth and Darkwind themselves, and taught large-scale battle tactics by Kerowyn. The woman hadn't been able to come, but she could still fight, and she'd run Rowen around Companion's Field many times, along with the Collegium's Weaponsmaster, Jeri. They'd come at him one at a time, then both at once, then attacking in sync, not giving him time to rest until they were both satisfied that he could fight and get around anyone or anything that might get below his hooves and get him from there. Then they'd thrown some of their best students at him so that he could learn how to fight against a group, then all of them using different weapons. He'd been taught how to buck so that nothing could stay on his back except for Kerowyn, who could (generally) stay on the back of anything that moved, be it man, beast, or Changecreature, trained to keep something on his back, to move for hours without stopping, to track, to use every part of his body as best as he could. In short, if he wanted to kill something and it tried to run, he would find it, get rid of anything that tried to stop him, and depending on his orders, kill it slowly to get the most information out of it, or kill it swiftly so it couldn't call for help. He was now a killing machine, comparable to a warrior's version of an Adept mage.

If he'd been trained like this back on the Plains when fighting the Changed deer, they would have been gone in a matter of minutes, with hardly a mark on him. According to Kerowyn, he was a prodigy of the sword, and in only a few months of training, he'd been able to reach this. She said that that he was now probably better trained than some of the Swordsworn, and when she'd heard about that bout with the Swordsworn before his Change, she'd laughed and said that she'd like to see the rematch now.

Now he was in Hardorn, on the Eastern Border, preparing to retake Castogol. When they were done here, they were going to help Tremane evacuate the entire Eastern Border and all of the people within twenty leagues of it.

When he'd found out about the retaking of the town, he'd thought it would be a good idea to have a Councilor go to the battle, perhaps be in it, so that at least one of the Councilors would know firsthand what they were dealing with. He'd suggested it, and some of the Councilors actually seemed rather enthusiastic about the idea, especially the gryphons and Kerowyn. Selenay and the Heralds had thought that it was an interesting proposal. Then they'd found out who he proposed to go. Himself. Julian had opposed, and several of the Councilors had complained about the Changechild having too many wild ideas, but most of the others were ominously silent.

"Would you be willing to go?" Selenay had asked.

"Yes," he'd replied. "Kerowyn, Alberich, Jeri, and some of the Heraldic students and I have been working on ways to use this body to the utmost potential, and we all agree that it has been honed to be, if I may say, something akin to the makaar of k'Leshya legend- a killing machine."

Some of the Councilors had looked slightly green at that- no doubt they'd heard of the escapade with the Change-deer.

"Why… have you done this?" Selenay had asked.

He'd sighed. "There really is nothing else that this body is suited for." When some of the Councilors looked alarmed, he'd quickly explained. "The original horse body is almost unrecognizable. Gehdri was a saddlehorse, bred for travel and walking. When we melded, his muscles were enlarged, my muscles were made stronger, and his body grew to warhorse proportions. The hooves are as hard as rock now, the muscles like steel. I can fight better than some of the Swordsworn. This is what the body can do. My mind can work with the Council, but my body needs to work out there. We haven't heard of any new Changechildren, and there isn't much out there that can hurt me, much less kill me. I'd like permission to go on this mission to help liberate the town. I now know Hardornen. I persuaded Brytha to give it to me when I learned about this. He got it from Elspeth, and she approves of my going. I may not be as useful as a Herald and a Companion pair, but I'm the closest thing you've got to it."

Then he'd used his trump card.

"If I go to the town, and some of the bandits escape to carry tales back to the Emperor, that's all for the better, because if we take a page out of the Iftel gryphon's book, and use some of the nonhumans in the attack, then the Empire might reconsider attempting to take over Hardorn if he thinks that we have an army of these creatures. Please, Selenay. Let me go. I'm the only nonhuman besides the gryphons that they can hear, and I'm the only one that they will hear. I can tell them about our army of nonhumans and humans, all trained in fighting. We've figured out how to use some magics, and that's even better. All of the mages that they were using were apparently of high level. Most of our mages are low, and they can use what they have. The Empire doesn't know how to get its high magic back. If we bluff, we might just be able to avert a war."

The Queen and the other Councilors had looked at him, then each other.

The agreement had been almost unanimous. He'd been allowed to go, but only if he wasn't in the front lines of fighting, if some of the members of the group going to the town were Heralds, and only if he had a 'chaperone' in the Crown City. Naturally, he'd picked Julian, who hadn't been very enthusiastic about the idea from the start, but he'd agreed to go, for Rowen's sake. Even now, he was probably waiting back in the capital with bated breath, eager to be back in Valdemar. Rowen was just lucky to have a friend like him, to help him muddle through this whole ordeal, and to be there when he needed to vent some of his frustrations. His physical anger was another story, one that he needed another outlet for, one of the smaller motivations for his argument to go.

So here he was, hiding in the cover of night with the Heralds and the Guardsmen of both countries, waiting for the signal from Tarrl and Sammel so they could start the open offense.

Sammel was the leader of the small surge of ratha in Hardorn, and Tarrl the packleader of the kyree.

Rowen watched the bright lights of the town burn merrily in the distance, acting quite contrarily to the horrors within. In a few moments, there would be fires blazing over the tiny pinpricks, and the town would not be as peaceful as it seemed.

They all waited anxiously for the scouts to finish what needed to be done, then the signal for the gryphons came.

:Gryphons, begin aerial attack now.: Came Kenni's command.

Rowen could vaguely see them moving against the sky, black and grey bodies blocking out the stars, and he could hear the wind of their passing as they flew quietly towards the town, bags of rocks in hand, and fighting claws equipped. The Kaled'a'in had brought them from White Gryphon, and the Iftel gryphons seemed to enjoy them immensely.

A few minutes passed, and Rowen could hear screams coming from the distant town, and he longed to be able to go off and help those people. The innocent ones, anyway. He could care less about the soldiers.

Agonizing minutes passed, and finally the sign came for the rest of the attack force to move in.

He was off like a bullet, streaming ahead of the rest of the team, even as the gryphons were circling back around for another attack, some dangling things better left unnamed from their talons.

He entered the city perimeter at a flat out gallop, swords out and senses attuned to everything around him. The first thing he saw was a child standing in the middle of the street, bawling for his mother. The second thing he saw was the horse galloping towards the boy in a blind panic, entrails poking through a long gash in it's stomach.

Rowen changed course and headed for the child, sheathing his sword to sweep the boy off of the street and out of harms way. He dodged the horse and placed the boy in an open doorway a split second later before the boy could realize what had saved him.

Rowen pulled his sword again and veered left down an alleyway, splashing through puddles of foul liquid that sent stenches to wrinkle his nose to reach the other side, only to burst into the middle of a group of very surprised men dressed in well-fitting armor that were quickly drawing one-two-three-four-five swords. All of the men took one look at him and dropped the swords, streaming the other way as fast as they could, even as the swords clattered to the ground.

He didn't give chase, and they turned out of sight around a corner as he set off in the other direction, adrenaline pumped and looking for blood. He found it in the form of a man who was beating a woman senseless even as the town was being overrun. Ruthlessly, Rowen drew his sword, and even as the man looked up, and his expression turned to one of terror, the sword came sweeping down in a black arc, cutting halfway through his chest, severing his spine and rendering him helpless. He fell to the ground, and Rowen leaned down and grabbed the woman's arm, hauling her to her feet.

"Are you alright?" he asked in Hardornen.

She nodded breathlessly, apparently not caring about the physical appearance of her savior, or she was too dazed to notice.

Suddenly her eyes widened, and she gabbled something in Hardornen.

His ears picked up something moving behind him, and he turned to face it, instinctively shifting his sword to block. It turned out to be the right thing to do, because a mace came slamming down onto his sword, aimed from one of the men who he'd startled before.

He couldn't turn entirely, so he just turned back around, and looking over his shoulder, placed a high kick that turned the man's head into a bloody pulp. He dropped like a stone, and Rowen turned back to the woman.

"Go to the outskirts of the town. Bring other civilians with you. If you see anyone dressed in white, or if you see a white horse, go to them and ask them to take you somewhere safe. If you see a big cat, or a wolf, or a…" he hesitated, not sure about how to describe the gryphons. "A very big bird, ask them, too. Don't be afraid of them. They are friendly, like me. We are here to help you. Do you understand?"

She nodded again, eyes very wide. He gave her a small nudge in the right direction.

"Go, and please hurry." She took off, skirts flying as she ran, limping slightly from her wounds, but still going strong, towards the quietest part of the town.

He watched her until he was satisfied that she would be fine, and turned again, heading into the deepest part of the town, towards the loudest sounds of fighting.

He started off again, now moving down an empty street, devoid of any life except for one lone small corpse- a child's corpse. Rowen felt the anger rise in him and let it. He passed the small body and could feel its empty eyes stare at his bloody hooves as he galloped past. He saw more signs of carnage- an arm here, a pool of spoiled blood there, and the bloodlust rose higher, leaving him with only a small corner to think and analyze.

Up ahead he could see a large group of 'bandits' fighting a mixed group of kyree, ratha, a few Valdemaran and Hardornen soldiers. A lone gryphon made passes at the Empire's men from overhead, dropping four men with every sweep. Rowen could make out dim clashes from running men down another alleyway- heavy footsteps slamming into the ground, dull armor and clattering, ragged chainmail. That couldn't be any of the legitimate group- it must be another group of bandits, coming to help quell the invaders. He moved towards them, darting around the fighting group to stand between them and the newcomers. The new bandits came up from an alleyway that he hadn't seen, and spotted him. Their ranks parted to let through a man dressed in robes much like Sejanes', and Rowen's eyes widened.

'Mage!' his senses screamed.

The man grinned, and raised his hands above his head to cup them together by the wrists. Above them, a ball of what looked like lightning began to form, and Rowen could feel electricity in the air.

'No- if that hits the group over there- they'll die. There's no way anyone could survive that hitting them.'

Rowen made the split-second decision to kill the mage now and ask questions later, and raised his swords. The men with the mage flowed around the man, forming a human barrier between the Changechild and the magician.

'Can I get through that in time?' Rowen thought despairingly. 'I have to try.'

He took off for what looked like the weakest part of the wall, swords held high and nerves screaming.

The men braced themselves, and Rowen sighted for the mage. He hit the men hard, and some of them fell backwards, but the rest swarmed him. He was barely able to keep them off, and one jumped on his back, trying to cut through the armor that covered Rowen's body to get at his flesh. Rowen bucked- and the man fell off. Before he hit the ground, Rowen lashed out with his hind feet, sending the man flying back to knock some of his comrades down. The rest of the men closed in, and Rowen despaired of ever reaching the mage in time.

Then he wasn't alone- two ratha and a kyree were with him, tearing them men away from him, letting Rowen draw back out of the melee and into an open space. He tried to think of something that could take down the mage, felt along his belt- then his fingers encountered something long and hard.

'Of course!' his mind exulted.

Rowen pulled his bow off of his belt- drew an arrow from the quiver, and nocked it. Within seconds the mage had realized the new danger, and was turning towards him. Rowen let off his first shot- it went straight for the mage's heart, and the man was forced to use of the ball of lighting, incinerating the arrow but sending the ball directly at Rowen. Suddenly a javelin of blue light intercepted it, and they blew up a scant yard from Rowen's face. He risked a glance to the source of the javelin, and to his relief, it was Kennidra, bearing down on the two of them with a grim expression on her face, mage focus glowing a bright purple on her chest. The Empire's mage turned towards her with a snarl, making a flinging gesture towards Rowen, and suddenly the Changechild found that he couldn't move.

His arms were locked in position, one holding his bow and the other reaching back for another arrow. He watched helplessly as the two mages engaged in battle, now aiming daggers of fire and light towards each other, now sending colored balls of light at each other that clashed on invisible shields and sent skittering lines of lighting trailing over the shields into the ground.

The gryphon from before came winging towards the mages, only to collide with an invisible barrier around the twain and come crashing to the ground perilously close to Rowen, eyes dazed.

His eyes suddenly flicked upwards to Rowen and his eyes unfocused slightly.

"Yyyou arrre frrrozen?" The gryphon asked, eyes still unfocused.

Rowen couldn't move his lips, so he just made an affirmative sound through his pursed lips.

"Ah." The gryphon shifted one talon over to touch Rowen's leg, and twitched the other talon, and Rowen could feel the paralysis coming off of him.

'What is he- oh, of course. Most gryphons are at least a hedge-wizard level mage.'

"Thank you," Rowen said when he could move his lips again.

"You arrre welcome. Now pleassse, killl the mage," the gryphon said.

Rowen nodded, and finished the motion he'd begun before, and drew the second arrow back on the string. The mage didn't even notice as Rowen aimed for another heart shot.

"Wait," the gryphon said.

"What?" Rowen asked, still trying to focus on the mage.

"Let me sssee the arrrrow. It willl not get thrrrough the barrrrierrr if it is not bessspelled."

Reluctantly, Rowen held the arrow down to the injured gryphon, who reached up and grasped it in his talons and stared at it. The arrow suddenly glowed a bright blue, and it was quickly handed back to Rowen.

"Nowww, beforrre the magic wearrrsss off."

Rowen didn't even bother nodding, and let the arrow fly as soon as he sighted on the mage's heart. It flew above the heads of the still-fighting men and nonhumans, directly towards the mage, and Rowen was still worried that the wall would stop it. It didn't, and the arrow pierced through the barrier, now visible like a domed wall of warped glass, and pierced the mage's heart. He looked down, obviously shocked, and gasping for breath, which gave Kennidra time to throw a last ball of purple lighting at him, and he was engulfed, dropping to the ground only as a pile of ashes. The mage barrier vanished, and Kennidra didn't even pause as she threw more daggers of light at the bandits, which sliced right through the men. They fell like trees, and Kenni suddenly looked very weary.

Rowen leaned down to the gryphon. "Are you alright?"

"I will be fine," the being said. The sounds of fighting behind them had ceased a while ago, and the street was silent.

"We're almost finished," The Herald Mage said. "There are still some pockets of resistance, and some of the civilians have been taken hostage. Shensa and Lihandra are working on Fetching them from harm, so we need to finish up with the rest of the town. Try to disable, not kill from now on. We want hostages and information, and we can get more of that from a live… man than a dead one." She seemed unwilling to call these bandits men, most likely because of what they'd done to these people.

He followed her to one of the pockets of resistance. While she tried to take the diplomatic route, he just barged in, slashing right and left, knocking men out, taking limbs off at the joint, shattering elbows and knees, severing the occasional spine. He could see that she was horrified at the carnage and havoc he was wreaking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The image of that child lying dead in the street was running through his mind over and over, and he couldn't bring himself to show these men any mercy. He finished the last men off by severing both hands that held the sword, and just stopped, standing still where he was, panting heavily, not looking at the path of destruction behind him. He was so covered in blood that his coat shone, as did his armor. His hair was matted with it, and his armor was half in shreds. Small nicks and cuts all over his body were beginning to burn, but only a few were serious.

The leg where he'd been wounded by the arrow so long ago was beginning to ache from overuse, and all of his muscles were sore. He was still pumped with adrenaline, but even that wasn't enough to help him when a man ran out of an alleyway, screaming, and let off an arrow at Rowen.

He was helpless to stop it, bringing up his sword a fraction of a second too late. It was a lucky shot, burying itself in the seam where human and horse met, sending a spasm of pain through both bodies. Kennidra sent a fireball at him a few seconds later, incinerating the man where he stood, and she galloped for Rowen. A second arrow hit him in the right side of his chest, and he didn't feel anything, only a terrible pressure.

Kennidra leapt off her Companion, running towards Rowen, and free of his rider, Saradan arrowed at the man, pounding him into red dust even as Kenni reached him.

Dazed, Rowen reached up and touched the arrowshaft gingerly. Only then did it start to hurt, a horrible, bone-deep pain that robbed him of breath and cleared all thoughts from his head.

He went to his fore knees, then his back knees collapsed and he fell onto his side.

Kenni knelt beside him, reaching into her beltpouch for a bandage.

"Rowen, can you hear me?"

He tried to answer, but his lips wouldn't obey him.

"Please try to hold still. I'm going to pull this out, okay?"

He stared at her as she placed one hand on his chest armor, and gripped the shaft firmly with the other.

"One… two… three!"

The arrow slid smoothly out of his chest, not leaving the metal leafspear head in. He could feel her pressing the bandage over it, and reach for the second arrow. That one broke off before she could get it out, and he could dimly hear her cursing. Blackness was pressing in at the edges of his vision, and he felt dizzy.

"Rowen? Rowen, stay with me. Rowen!"

"Tired," he managed to murmur. His lips seemed to be working again, and he stretched them into a grimace.

"No, Rowen, don't go to sleep. Rowen, stay awake! If you go to sleep, you will die. Do you hear me? Rowen, do not sleep!"

"Can… try…" he gasped.

"Good."

A kyree appeared in Rowen's field of vision and nuzzled briefly at his face.

:Warrior?: Rowen heard in his mind. :Warrior, I am Cyrrran. I have a small Gift of Healing, and will try to help you. If not, I will stay with you until a Healer can be found. Is that permissible?:

"Yes," he gasped.

:You are very badly injured. You may not survive,: Cyrrran told him bluntly. :Have you anything you wish to tell your kinfolk?:

Rowen found the breath to say at least few brief words.

"Tell… tell Nadar… that I'm sorry… that I wasn't able to spend more… time with him… Sa'heera… tell her to take care… of Nadar and the baby… and Julian… tell him… tell him that I'm sorry… that I couldn't come… back..." he coughed weakly.

"I'm sorry… for all of the trouble… I caused… and tell him… thank you… for being there…through everything…"

He couldn't hold on to speech any longer, and was reduced to thinking the answer if Cyrrran asked him anything.

It was easier, but he grew weary faster, and he felt himself losing his grip on consciousness.

He only had one last thought before he slipped completely into the dark pool of death that surrounded him.

'Julian… I'm so sorry…'

And so goes my attempt at angst….

Ah, the Lackey patented formula for success… make them happy and popular, and then drop a mountain on them… or drop them into a bottomless pit of angst and tragedy…