Own nothing and the bastards won't loan me money.

Chasing Through Hell

Ploys in the Peaks

Maurus slid the whetstone down the blade of his axe. The slight resistance trembled up his hand and the scrape just barely reached his ears, two familiar sensations he warmly welcomed. The weapon itself was still a little unfamiliar and not just because its shape and weight was a little different to his old axe. As the light from the alien sky and fires around him played over its surface, it caught in the whorls and lines Arianna had inscribed on it and even when shadow fell over the head, the faintest hint of green showed in the runes.

The familiarity of the movement and the gentle reminder of Arianna's presence in his life was calming, something he appreciated. He'd woken from a nightmare of wading through stagnant water, the people around him vanishing in flashes of lightning and the jitters he had felt when he woke had worsened as the hours passed and the others from the Torn Wing began to wake. He should have been ravenous, but instead he felt queasy. He should have been tired, but instead he felt a restless quivering in his muscles and an alertness that made him all too aware of the slow passage of time. To most, he probably looked as calm as could be, but the tingling nerves in his body were almost as bad as when he had faced a centaur raid for the first time, an electric mixture of fear and excitement.

The land around him seemed to reflect his mood. The land rumbled with a constant nervous tremor and after a dramatic lightning storm past the mountains to the north, the storm had quieted, as if it was holding its breath.

In the relative quiet, he could hear the low noise of the slumbering camp, a constant murmur of people, beasts, fire and metal. What had begun as a small gathering of the Torn Wing and the windriders had grown to a sizable camp, now on the north side of the bridge, as the raiders gathered and a full regiment, the 18th, joined them.

He hadn't shared it with anyone, but it had been a huge comfort when the reinforcements had arrived, providing them with more safety than they had had for the last long while. Today though, the noise of more than the thousands of people and beasts was making him nervous instead. These were the people he was securing the way for and he desperately hoped he would succeed.

At the very least, they weren't alone in that task. A group of Frostwolves was going for the western side of the pass along with a third of the Torn Wing, so he wasn't shouldering all of the responsibility.

A rustle behind him broke him out of his circling thoughts and he looked back just in time for Arianna to lean forward and meet his lips in a brief kiss.

"Good morning, Love," Arianna said quietly, settling herself beside him. As she did, Maurus brushed his fingers through her hair, which hung loose around her face instead of in its usual tail.

"Morning," he replied, smiling faintly but unable to keep sigh from his voice. "You made it better."

The corner of her mouth quirked. "I have that effect," she said mock-haughtily. She looked at the mace, the shield and the pile of armor laid out in front of them and the axe Maurus had lain beside him. All of it was gleaming in the low light, more meticulously taken care of than it had been in months. She turned her eyes back to him.

"Worried?"

"Honestly, I'm scared," he said, pitching his voice so low that only Arianna could hear it.

"You've gotten more honest," Arianna replied. She moved closer and Maurus wrapped and arm around her so she could lean against his side.

"I've decided that honesty will improve our chances," he said amiably.

Arianna hummed quietly. "I can't say I'm unafraid either. I have not been in a battle even close to this size since the Exodus."

Her gaze grew distant, her eyes staring through rather than at the mountains. "I would never have thought I would be fighting against the ones who left."

"I'm sorry," Maurus replied quietly.

A few moments passed before Arianna spoke, sounding weary: "It is what it is."

"Still," Maurus said, pulling her into his lap and resting his head on her hair as she relaxed against him.

He drank in her warmth and her smell and gazed at the quiet activity in the camp around him. Mathias and Calen were sitting a short distance away, donning their armor. They were complete opposites, gold and red armor and healthy skin next to black metal and pallid flesh, but their postures were almost identical, only differentiated by Mathias' simmering impatience.

A little further away, Drim looked critically down the edge of his blade before nodding in satisfaction. Tu'jan and Rilli sat beside him, taking turns rolling a pair of bone dice and judging by Rilli's expression, Tu'jan was winning.

Close by the fire, Shayla and Drunnya sat in silence, eyes intent on a pile of small bones lying between them. Crava, Zilja and several others were standing just a little two close to the two shamans for it to be a coincidence and the covert glances toward Drunnya and Shayla told Maurus that there was quite a bit of interest in the divination.

His gaze wandered over the rest of his unit. Taka was shoveling food into his mouth and Dromon and Go'vi were arguing amiably, while Zrahi sat beside them, absently throwing her axe into the air and catching it.

Finally, after passing over many more of his soldiers either relaxing or preparing, his gaze returned to those closest on him, falling on Wiven and Widget, sitting a little off to his left. They were both already dressed for battle, Wiven in thick robes and gloves, Widget in leather and mail, but what caught Maurus attention was on the hand Wiven held out to Widget. Over his palm, flame flickered, no larger than a candle flame. His eyes were bright and when Widget drew back a little, he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

Widget hesitated for a moment before narrowing her eyes, a stubborn line coming into her jaw. With a quick motion, she brought her small hand down on Wiven's, extinguishing the flame.

Wiven closed his fingers around her hand and gave her a proud smile that was warmer than most Maurus had seen him give and Widget answered it with a toothy, if nervous, smile.

Maurus felt a warm pride stir in his chest. He could sense the tension in the air, but almost none of his soldiers looked like they were about fight in one of the largest battles of the war, playing a hugely important role. No-one let the fear consume them and more than fear, he could see the determination in the studied looks of carefreeness and boredom. He looked down at his armor and took a deep breath.

"It's time."

He donned his armor and it seemed to serve as a cue, activity spreading out from him like waves even before he gave the order to get ready. Those not already in armor donned theirs. Fires were put out, cooking pots scraped clean of the last morsels, equipment was checked one last time and in what felt like no time at all, the Torn Wing was marching toward the mountains.

They crossed the plain without incident, the only sign of the enemy being indistinct forms of succubi. They were quite close when Maurus spotted them, but they retreated quickly, making Maurus consider them scouts rather than a real threat.

As they began the climb up the steep paths, they were overtaken by a large group of windriders, led by Shroku. Maurus was awed and mildly incredulous as he saw the windriders fly up the slope, quiet and so close to the rocks and outcrops that a single mistake or an errant gust of wind would smash them against the mountain. None of them crashed though and they all quickly passed out of sight, not far from where Maurus had lost sight of the succubi. If the windriders were successful, the demons would lose many eyes, giving them far more freedom of movement.

Thinking of things he hoped would surprise the demons, he looked back. He noted in passing that they had climbed surprisingly far as he looked down the slope and found the Frostwolf contingent. They were already half-way to the mountains and as he watched, they changed direction toward the west and the tunnels Shroku had found there.

Further out, he could see that the camp was coming properly awake, a stirring ant hill from this high and it reminded him of their limited time. He turned his gaze forward again and focused on moving and looking for enemies, his sense of urgency and nervousness lending his legs speed.

They climbed for hours, switching between following paths and cutting between them where possible, weighing speed against making their route confusing. It might have worked or maybe the enemy just wasn't much interested in them, because they didn't encounter any resistance on the ascent, though they did dodge a suspicious number of rock slides. Finally, as the camp behind them was shrinking and the tiny figures formed into formations, they crested the mountain. They passed slowly through a short tunnel along a peak and came out on a ledge overlooking the valley.

Maybe a mile or two to the east, the valley crumbled away into a terrifyingly open vista of the storm, which swirled and flashed with flickers of lightning. To the west, the valley opened to the central isles of the Netherstorm and to the north, another row of mountains rose from the valley floor, scarred and crumbling and even more worn down than the mountain range Maurus stood on.

Seeming almost at Maurus' eye level were the four bastions of Tempest Keep. The three smallest wings of the Keep looked like a massive, squat ships, made of pale stone and luminous crystal. The underside of the structures were smooth and it was mostly their shape, wide and rounded on one end and tapering toward a point, a "prow", at the opposite end, that gave the vessels their ship-like air. The structure rising from the "hull" reminded Maurus a little of elven architecture, but the resemblance ended where natural, jagged crystal rose from the marble and where crystals protruded from the strangely patterned hulls like barnacles on a ship.

Each of the three structures glowed with its own color, pale sapphire blue, ephemeral lilac and blooming scarlet respectively and strings of lightning in those colors intermittently leaped from the structures to the part of the Keep floating between them, the bolts of lightning turning purple as they joined the flickering web of electricity running over the central structure.

That structure was nicknamed "The Eye", for how it had looked to the high-flying scouts who had managed to return. Unlike the other parts of the Keep, it bore no resemblance to a ship. Instead, it was a round fortress wrought in purple, white and blue marble and except for the tendency toward smooth and rounded lines, there was nothing remotely elvish about the architecture. Gate-like structures rose from the rounded wall at six points, each composed of two hornlike pieces of darker purple stone and a terrace of the same, oddly patterned material as the other structures ran around the structure.

From within the massive ring-wall a tower rose into the air, making up the better part of the entire structure's height. It became wider with height, especially where the cold colors of the tower gave way to reddish-brown columns. They flowed out from the tower, climbing its sides before separating, forming a sort of crown around the rune-engraved top of the tower.

In sharp contrast to its beautifully built upper part, the lower part of the Eye, what the fortress rested on, was a rough, irregular mass of the same patterned material the other "hulls" was composed of. Like them, it was dotted with crystals, but in much larger quantity, making it almost look like the crystals were replacing the original material. They glowed a bright, pulsing purple, the same as color as the wide stream energy that stretched from the bottom of the Eye to the manaforge underneath it.

Compared to Tempest Keep, the manaforge looked squat and dark. It was half-hidden from Maurus' view by the foot of the mountain, seeming almost to hide in the shadow of the mountain range, but what he could see of it mostly resembled a stylized, symmetrical claw or a strange beak, pointed at the sky and sending aetheric energy from pipes in its sides directly up into Tempest Keep.

It seemed strange how still Tempest hung in the air, not even swaying the least bit in the fierce winds, but rather looking as immovable in the air as if they rested on solid stone. Only the energy flickering over the structures gave them any semblance of movement.

It was a stark contrast to the valley floor. The valley was a riot of color and metal and light, from fires, skin, armor and siege engines and even from here, he could hear a low rumble, though whether it was from battle or the trembling earth, he couldn't tell. Off to his left, at most a few miles away, the cold blues and purples of the Alliance waved not far from the brooding reds and browns of the Horde, clashing against the fiery banners of the Legion and their elven allies.

Towering over the armies were five of the horrifying demonic machines he had seen earlier, the hulking, felsteel behemoths, looking as unbreakable as mountains. The fel reavers were positioned in a loose circle around the manaforge, which meant that two of them were pretty close to the canyon and that fact made Maurus' heart sink.

Finally, fluttering over the army were hundreds of flyers, looking like locusts waiting for a feast at this distance.

The scope of the battle suddenly became something real to Maurus and he fear and doubt suddenly made him feel faint. There were so many down in the valley that it beggared belief, demons, elves and all the races of the Horde and Alliance, making demon camp he had seen in the Barrens after Demonfall Canyon seem like a raiding party.

Despite the scope and his reaction, he still took it all in in a few moments, before he fixed his attention on a closer point. A ways down the slope, a few turns of the path or a couple of sharp drops down, he saw the enemy. There were a number black catapults and the greenish steel of demon mortars glinted among the disparate forms of demons and fel orcs. The catapults and the heavier mortars were all pointed at the opposite side of the canyon, where an overhang of rock hundreds of feet wide suddenly looked thin and fragile to Maurus.

'Of course there would be contingencies,' Maurus thought grimly. 'It did seem too easy.'

He had more immediate concerns though. The ledge they were coming out on was very exposed and the demons had already spotted them. Felguards and fel orcs stood three ranks deep where the slope reached the plateau while the gan'arg and mo'arg were gathering around their mortars. A great number of imps were spread out around the outskirts of the artillery position, well away from the mortars and catapults, while succubi and fiends were scattered throughout the force.

Finally, Maurus felt a surge of terror and anger as he saw the familiar form of Ven'Zarul, one-winged, one-horned, looming behind the felguards and he could have sworn he felt his gaze lock with the dreadlord's.

What he certainly felt was the tension around him and he saw Mathias fall into his most aggressive stance in front of him.

"Give us cover!" Maurus shouted at Te'kan, breaking into a run and shouting for the rest to follow and spread out. As he did, he heard the quiet thrum of bowstrings and the harsher twangs of crossbows and saw several mo'arg engineers drop while most of the survivors scurried away like rats to avoid the next volley.

Maurus' heart was in his throat as three hundred feet and hooves pounded down the rocky incline. The arrows and bolts of Te'kan's men bought the Torn Wing a little time, but the mo'arg were already bellowing at their smaller cousins to get back to the mortars and Maurus doubted that the only enemy was in front of him. The high ground Te'kan was making good use of was simply too advantageous for the enemy to have left unguarded by accident.

When he reached the first turn of the path, he glanced up and as he had feared, he saw demons on the ledge above Te'kan. A number of felguards were dropping down in front of the tunnel even then, halting the volleys, while gan'arg remained above. Their mortars were fixed in place and the widest part of the path, which Maurus was about to reach, had to be their target.

The demons didn't get the chance to fire though. Braga's men appeared from the rocks above the gan'arg, skin, leathers and weapons all covered in dust and dirt and Maurus bared his teeth as surprised shrieks tumbled down toward him. Taking it slow so Braga could go over rather than through the tunnel had been the right choice.

A dull boom made Maurus heart leap into his throat and his stomach constrict, but he realized a heartbeat later that the explosion echoed up from the canyon and that there was nothing amiss in the front rank. His stomach did squirm an extra time though, his mind immediately filled with visions of the flanking force being buried under mounds of rock, but the absence of more explosions told him that it wasn't the full trap had sprung.

"Maurus!" Two voices shouted in unison, from his right and from right behind his head.

"Isn't that-" Arianna continued.

"Look ahead!" Widget said at the same time, shifting her weight on Maurus' back and her gun entered his field of vision, aimed at the patch of ground ahead.

Maurus' heart leapt into his throat again as he noticed the churned-up ground and recalled Demonfall Canyon.

"Stop!" He roared. "Cut the corner. Go right, down the cliff."

For a few moments, he was the only one veering right, but with another shout, his soldiers reacted. In front, he saw Mathias, Calen and the others struggle to slow down and go toward the edge.

He wrapped Arianna in his arms as he jumped down the steep slope. There was a rush of sound as gravel was dislodged by all the soldiers on the slope and he had to fight to stay upright as he slid down toward the lower path. As he struggled, he saw the flash of a mortar firing and icy dread gripped his heart. His eyes searched desperately for the projectile, but he didn't spot it before it detonated behind and to the left of him.

An almost sustained crack of sound hit Maurus as the corner they had barely avoided, as well as a part of the path, erupted in an explosion of deadly force and jagged rock.

Maurus' hooves hit the path lower down among a lot of his unsteady soldiers, stumbling forward and he dared hope that the three screams signified that they had avoided the worst of the mines.

"Healers, ease the fall. Casters, fire up the lower corners!" he shouted, moving forward to take the next drop rather than risk the suspicious next corner as the first crumbled down to his left.

He saw gold and green light bloom in the edges of his vision as he stepped off the path again, still holding Arianna. She was utterly still in his arms, though he heard her utter a vicious-sounding word while Widget shrieked into his ear and Ash's growl was audible as he slid down beside him.

Fire and lightning flared out on both sides of him and more thundering booms sounded as two of the turns further down exploded.

He crashed down a level lower, feeling hot pain flare up through his shins and turned toward a demolished corner, not risking the much longer fall past the path, shouting at the others to follow. The air, already alive with the sound of shouts and movement, became even denser as the mortars began firing sporadically and Maurus' heartbeat began to thunder in his ears.

It felt like the descent took hours, hours of feet and hooves pounding on treacherous footing with the terrible fear of a sudden explosion lending them speed, but finally, Maurus leapt down along Mathias and the other front-rankers as the casters loosed their first barrage against the felguards.

His grip around his axe was white-knuckle tight and his blood boiled with rage even before he felt the blood-quickening influence of the shaman's magic. He roared along with the others as they gathered in a wedge aimed at the felguards, feeling almost as if he was being drawn toward the demons, his gaze fixing on the pulse at their necks. The feeling only increased when Widget's gun barked and blood sprayed from the ruined head of a fel orc.

The demons and fel orcs met the Torn Wing's charge with a torrent of flame and a deranged, throat-tearing roar. Maurus crashed through flame that made the runes on his armor glow in response and felt a surge of exhilaration when he realized that Arianna's runes stole the heat from the flames, leaving him merely uncomfortably warm, rather than burnt.

Judging by the relative lack of screams around him, his soldiers weathered the flame pretty well too, but he had no time to worry about that as he reached the enemy. A massive fiend slashed both axes down toward him and it took all his skill and speed to deflect the blows.

The tell-tale shadowy tendrils of Arianna's magic reached out before the demon could recover and it visibly staggered, seeming uncertain of its own weight.

Maurus took advantage, as did both Calen and Mathias. Hammer and sword smashed into kneecap and hand respectively and Maurus' axe came down on the demon's arm.

To his surprise, he sliced through muscle and bone with more ease than ever before and he almost overbalanced as the demon stumbled back, howling. As a blast of fire struck the demon, making it fall over into its allies, he managed to recover, just in time to slam the knob of his axe into a felguard's snarling face and bury his axe in the fiend's chest.

The mortar explosions stopped as the two sides clashed and the noise around Maurus dropped to the merely violent cacophony of combat. The sizzling sound of fire and lightning and the crackling chime of frost added itself to the screams and shouts and crashing steel. The air became thick with the smell of charred flesh, burned hair and the almost intoxicating scent of blood.

As always, the bloodlust wasn't truly intoxicating though. Rather than dulling his wits, it sharpened his senses and his instincts, and with Mathias and Calen on either side and Ash unbalancing the enemies, they cut deep wounds in several felguards and fel orcs in just a few seconds.

The hole in the enemy line opened line of sight to two robed fel orcs in the enemy formation and before the fel guards could close ranks, Arianna and the casters around her struck. Flashes of lightning, tongues of flame and a dark purple orb cut through the opening and the two warlocks crumbled, their robes aflame.

A flash of pain on Maurus' leg made him look down and spot one of the downed fel orcs stabbing at him. He pulled his leg out of the way of the stab, feeling blood trickle down his leg and saw the mangled chest of the fel orc begin to knit together and its snarl became fiercer.

With a growl, Maurus stepped forward, bringing his hoof down on the fel orc's head with a crunch. He raised his head and saw several other wounded enemies regain their strength as they drew blood.

"Make sure they're dead," he shouted, opening a felguard from hip to shoulder and reversing his swing to take off its head. Another fiend stepped into the felguard's place, leading with a wave of flame.

The flame guttered out as Ash swallowed the magic and Maurus grinned darkly at the demon as healing warmth flowing into his limbs and the casters' chant behind. The fiend raised both cleavers but it didn't get the chance to let them fall, as blasts of dark and blazing fire struck it, eating greedily through flesh that was already wasting away. Howling in pain, the demon was defenseless as Maurus and his companions struck the final blows, Calen's weapon glowing with holy fire.

As the demon fell, Maurus looked past it and inhaled sharply when he saw Ven'Zarul leap into the air. His black-armored form rose over the enemy ranks, clearing the felguard's height by five feet in a completely vertical leap and green mist gathered in his palms before being unleashed with a word Maurus couldn't hear, but seemed to feel.

"Sleep!" Maurus shouted as the green mist came toward him with an unearthly, whispery wail. He closed his mouth with a snap, deliberately catching his right cheek between his teeth hard enough to draw blood. The sharp pain radiating out from his bite cut through the sluggishness that the mist induced and with a growl and an effort of will, he shook the magic off entirely. Around him, he heard more growls and groggy annoyed exclamations, but he also spotted Zrahi's and Broga's unconscious forms get swiftly pulled back from the front rank.

"Seen your tricks," Maurus growled under his breath, bashing the teeth from a fel orc. He stepped back in the momentary respite and managed a quick look up the slope, seeing To'ro's riders burst from the tunnel and lope down the slope with impressive agility, followed by both Braga's and Te'kan's soldiers, the latter loosing arrows as they went.

Thalmir had doubted the wisdom of bringing the riders, but Maurus had overruled him, figuring that To'ro's lack of protest meant that they would be fine in the steep terrain. The petty vindication and the anticipation of the impact of his reinforcements made Maurus bark out a harsh laugh as he attacked again.

To'ro's riders hit the enemy hard, riding down the imps on one side and unbalancing the right flank. The silent blades of Braga swept around the other side of the enemy and soon, Maurus could feel the balance of the battle shifting. They had sprung the trap and yet were winning, the enemy line crumbling and Maurus felt a vicious satisfaction as he spilled more and more dark blood.

As the weight of enemies gave way, Mathias lead in a slow advance, pressing toward Ven'Zarul with a single-minded purpose as the dreadlord edged toward the right flank. Maurus followed, shielding his friend's side, though he hardly seemed to need it. The seemingly imminent fulfilment of his revenge seemed to energize Mathias and his sword was deadlier than ever.

If Mathias hadn't pushed forward so intently, Maurus might have missed it when Ven'Zarul barked an order to the warlocks. A familiar, red mist coalesced around the demons and fel orcs and an ululating cry rose from their throats as their eyes went wild and froth appeared around their fanged mouths.

Maurus had to step back to properly weather a torrent of blows aimed at himself and those around him and he could sense that the sudden renewed ferocity of the enemy had The Torn Wing on the backfoot. He wasn't overly worried though. They had faced blood-crazed Legion before and he snarled in confident challenge as he pushed back.

His confidence dwindled however, when he caught sight of Ven'Zarul again. As a swarm of buzzing locusts passed over his head, he saw the dreadlord grab two warlocks by the neck and lift the struggling orcs from the ground. The fel fire in Ven'Zarul's eyes flared, spilling out over the corners of his eyes and the flame appeared around his hands as he began to chant. The words were barely audible over the clamor, but Maurus recognized the words, feeling his stomach twist with disgust and fear. The warlocks screamed as acid-green fire blazed out of their eyes and mouths and nostrils, blackening the skin around them.

"Shoot him!" Maurus shouted. "Stop him!"

Widget's gun barked again, but Ven'Zarul twisted both himself and his victims out of the path and Maurus felt a sudden chill when the dreadlord's voice rose over the din. The warlocks in his hands tensed one last time and then went limp, as the final syllable rang like a death knell.

"Back," Maurus roared, mentally cursing Ven'Zarul for having increased in power. "Scatter! Now!"

The dreaded whistling reached his ears as he frantically backed up. The pressure of bodies behind him vanished, the casters evidently following orders promptly, but with orcs and demons attacking furiously, he couldn't just turn and run. Desperately, with his heart pounding in his chest, he cried out to the spirits and with a sudden jolt, he felt the connection snap into place. Through him, the sky and the earth was connected and with a thundering stomp, he sent the nearest dozen enemies staggering from the wave of force and rock shards.

Freed from the attacks, he leapt backwards, retreating with Mathias and Calen. Most of the other front-rankers were also managing to retreat, thanks to the casters. Demons stumbled over incongruous sheep, staggered through their banished brethren and were forced back by crackling elementals of fire and earth.

It wasn't quite enough. Maurus managed to throw his arms up in front of his face before he was flung back, jostled by two simultaneous waves of force and somehow, he managed to land on his side rather than on his back, where Widget still clung. His ears rang with the crash, his entire body throbbed and he could feel blood dripping from his ear, his nose and several places within his armor.

Dazed, he saw another light hanging in the sky and the sight shocked him into action. He gained his hooves and snarled at the rising infernals and the demons coming around the craters. He was still woozy and his vision swam with red splotches, making the enemy indistinct and the storm behind them look blood red, but he steadied himself with pain and rage. With trolls, orcs, wolves and raptors on the ground around the craters and the wounds in Maurus' flesh, there was plenty of both.

"Bombs!" Someone familiar shouted and Maurus almost overbalanced as he felt the weight on his back shift. A handful of black spheres sailed through the air, impacting the shrieking infernals and a dozen lances of flame and lightning followed.

The explosions were deafening cracks of sound and Maurus could feel the shockwave hit his face like hard slaps. Pieces of smoldering obsidian, many of them the size of Maurus' lower arm, exploded out among the demons, drawing shrieks and howls of pain.

The fog in his head lifted enough for him to find his tongue.

"To me!"

The devastation of the exploding infernals and the efforts of the elementals delayed the enemy long enough that Maurus was surrounded by his men when the fel orcs and demons advanced again.

Maurus felt his rage get bolstered by another wave of the shamans' magic and he threw himself at the charging enemy with little regard for his own safety. He swung his axe in a wide arcs, trusting his armor and his comrades to guard him and felled enemies with almost every stroke.

From his right, he heard troll voices shout out in berserk fury and from his left, he heard the rush of magic and before long, the enemy was ground down, the last fel orc falling to a well-placed arrow.

Maurus shook himself as he realized they were out of enemies. There was something he was forgetting.

"He's getting away!" Mathias spat venomously.

Maurus followed his friend's gaze and suddenly realized why the battle had finished so quickly. Maybe a third of the enemy force, including a number of succubi and seemingly a bodyguard of fiends, were retreating down the slope, gathered around the unmistakable form of Ven'Zarul.

He felt his blood boil, but he forced his voice to be calm. "Healers, take stock of the wounded."

He glanced around and as he looked left, he realized that the light he had seen earlier wasn't an infernal but rather a pale white flare, burning bright over the opposite ridge. It seemed the Frostwolves had been successful.

"Widget," he said. "Give the signal."

"Okay, Boss," Widget said, sounding a little rattled and then there was the light report of a gun, followed by a sizzling sound.

"Maurus!" Mathias snarled.

"A moment," Maurus bit back. Looking right, he saw To'ro's remaining soldiers. They were all covered in blood and half of them were kneeling by To'ro's prone form while the rest were collapsed by their fallen comrades and beasts. Only half of the beasts were still alive and most of them looked worse for wear, whimpering and limping, covered in their own blood and that of their enemies.

The mournful boom of a warhorns sounded up through the canyon and Maurus felt a small spark of pride for a job well done, though it almost drowned in rage and grief at the fallen he could see.

Movement in the corner of his eye made him look left again and he saw a small swarm of windriders come flying through the canyon, apparently headed straight for the two closest fel reavers.

Allowing his gaze to go further, he had to swallow as he again looked at the massive battle and the reddening sky to the north. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought everyone could hear his pulse beat like a drum and he was glad his helmet concealed his expression.

"He is-" Mathias began again.

"Not this time," Maurus interrupted him, tearing his gaze back to his unit. He raised his voice: "Triage. Three minutes."

He turned to Braga and gestured to the catapults and mortars. "You know how to work these, right?"

"Just 'bout," Braga said nonchalantly, swiping his greasy hair back over his scalp, leaving streaks of dirt and blood in it.

"Let that thing know we're here," Maurus said, gesturing at the fel reaver. When you're out of ammunition, guard the wounded. Follow when ready."

Braga nodded, turned and shouted at his men, who all ran toward the now unmanned catapults.

He took stock of the rest of the Torn Wing as he fished his health stone from his belt pouch. Considering the circumstances, it wasn't that bad, but being locked in combat with enraged demons while infernals landed were extremely bad circumstances. The groans and screams and limp bodies still made him feel sic and he could only hope that most were wounded and not dead.

When Arianna and Wiven joined him, he felt terribly selfish for the massive relief he felt. The sparks of relief he felt when he noticed Zrahi, Drim and several others approach didn't make him feel less selfish and he felt terribly callous when he turned his attention to judging whether or not he had enough of a unit to go after Ven'Zarul with. It was a relief that the answer seemed to be yes and when Seranna gave him her opinion on the wounded, he felt just slightly lighter. He had half a unit and the healers had hope.

"Alright! Calen, Drunnya, Shayla, you're with me. Main healers stay here. Everyone else who can fight, follow me." He started forward. He could he could see the dark satisfaction in Mathias' expression and he bared his teeth as he pointed with his axe toward the demons retreating. They had a fair head start, but it was a long run before they could reach any allies.

"Time to run them to ground."

Here was some action. I hope you enjoyed it and that you don't think I'm dragging it out too much. We are getting very close and I really hope to get the next chapter out soon. Better late than never, but considering the fact that I just about had the general idea for this chapter hammered out a month and a half ago, this took way too long.

As always, I would love to hear your opinions and criticisms. Cheers.