Chapter Eleven: The Battle of Iunu

Athellenas

It was another red sunrise. Warmaster Athellenas gazed at it for a moment as he took Onyx's reins. Red sunrises never meant good news. He had seen one around a month ago on the same day he discovered the massacre at Ephyrn. They always symbolized bloodshed.

There had been a red sunrise every morning lately.

Athellenas spurred Onyx along, moving up through the ranks of his own men, who were arrayed in their columns. The 1st Element had been camped in the dunes outside of Aqatios, but camp had just been broken and the men were organized and ready to begin the day-long march to the nearby Menaphite city of Iunu.

The 1st Element's heavy cavalry, under the command of Sir Havarell, had been waiting for Athellenas at Aqatios, as he had hoped. The Warmaster had sent the cavalry to this place overland, rather than by the Fleet. It was faster and easier for them—horses were not the best things to load up onto boats. Loading up the artillery was bad enough; cannons were easy to lose.

Athellenas passed by an older man who was on a chestnut horse, at the head of the X Legion column, wearing battered greenish-silver armor. His armor must have had traces of adamantite in it to give it its green hue. The Warmaster nodded to the man. "General."

"Warmaster," General Dhalit, commander of the X Legion, returned the salute.

Athellenas continued riding up past his men, returning nods and salutes as he went. He exchanged formalities with Sinclair and Airoh, the generals of the IV and I Legions, respectively.

Sir Derren was waiting for him at the very head of the column. Jerrod was also there, though he kept behind Athellenas's second-in-command. "Sir," Derren greeted Athellenas as he rode up. "How's the headache?"

"Gone now, thank you for asking," Athellenas replied. "What's the status on our progress?"

"Sir Havarell reports the cavalry ready to move. As per your orders, I positioned the cavalry around our supply wagons."

"Good," Athellenas nodded. "Very good. We cannot afford to lose our supplies in a raid." Thirteen thousand men stuck in the middle of the desert without supplies was one of the absolute worst nightmares any military commander could come up with. "What of our artillery?"

"Sir Brezhnov reports that his cannons are also ready to move."

"Sound the general advance," Athellenas ordered, reining in Onyx and setting off forward at a slow trot, which was around walking speed.

One of the aides who were at the head of the column raised a horn to his lips and, after taking a deep breath, blew. A harsh, resounding note echoed through the early morning air.

An answering horn sounded further on down the column, answered in turn by another horn even further away. General Airoh got the I Legion moving. The three legions of the 1st Element all marched in a single, large column, one legion after the next, with Athellenas and his staff at the head of the advance. The supply wagons were on either side of the column, and Sir Havarell's cavalry was out on the flanks. The 1st Element auxiliaries—surgeons, medical staff, cooks, engineers, craftsmen for repairs—walked among the legions. Sir Brezhnov's artillery brought up the rear—a small force of heavy field cannons capable of firing solid and canister-shot, as well as a long-range howitzer. There were also deconstructed trebuchets, their parts lashed into a bundle and carried by donkeys.

Drumbeats rolled through the 1st Element's advance as the drummers kept the beat of the march steady. This was not for show; it actually served to keep the army moving at a good speed, but to also keep it from moving too fast. If Athellenas pushed the legions too hard in this desert, men would start dropping like flies from the heat.

Water was the key. Athellenas had issued orders to all centurions, making it mandatory for each soldier to be carrying at least three full skins of water at all times. Sure, the extra weight may have been irritating at times, but the soldiers knew as well as Athellenas that thirst was their biggest enemy, not Thammaron's hordes.

The sun arced ever higher into the sky, slowing down a bit as it neared its noontime apex. Its rays beat down upon the Centralian soldiers, as if it were trying to hamper their progress.

"I suppose you can't conjure up a nice rainstorm for us?" Athellenas said to Jerrod after riding in silence all morning and the greater part of the afternoon.

"Well, it's not impossible," Jerrod admitted. "I would probably manage to make a small cloud bank before I died from the strain of maintaining it."

"So…that's a no?"

"Yeah, that's a no."

"Some mage you are…"

"Magic requires energy. Creating a storm requires an amount of energy that only a God possesses, and seeing as I'm not a God, regrettably, you can shut your gob."

"Forgot how much fun it always was to push your buttons…" Athellenas chuckled. "You have gotten a little more mojo since I saw you last, before you took your little ten-year vacation in the swamp."

"Ten years is a long time, mate," Jerrod said. "If you train yourself to be stronger than you already are for nearly every single day of those ten years, you'll come out the other end pretty well."

"I have done likewise," Athellenas nodded knowingly. "Though I have done so with the sword, not with the soul."

"No shame in that, I suppose," Jerrod mused. "Even a sword, ineffective and brutish as it is, can have its uses."

"We shall have to spar, you and I. I suspect you have more skill with a sword than you care to let on."

"I might take you up on that…though if we meet resistance at Iunu, perhaps you will be satisfied by watching me kill a few werewolves."

"Nothing like capping a good werewolf or two…" Athellenas chuckled again, old memories of his adventures with Jerrod springing back up in his mind. "I remember back when we ran into that pack of werewolves up north, back when our hair was still black."

"Which one was that…was that the one in Foronel?"

"No, Foronel was where those Zamorackian cultists were offering up blood sacrifices from the local populace. I'm talking about Uiranos, near the Far Reaches out west, by the White Wolf Mountains."

"Ah, yes…" Jerrod chuckled quietly to himself as the memories came back to him. "Yes, those werewolves did put up a nice little fight…" the Cleric recalled, absent-mindedly touching a rough, diagonal scar on the side of his neck. "I still have the pack-leader's heart nailed up in my hut."

"You two seem to have done much together in the past," Sir Derren, who was quietly riding alongside the two old friends, commented.

"I like this kid; he doesn't say very much," Jerrod grunted, motioning towards Derren with his head. "Tell me, boyo; what is a young man like yourself doing as Number Two to the Warmaster? I would have thought a job like that would require someone…older."

"I would not have chosen Derren as my second-in-command if he was not capable of leading the Element, should ill fortune befall me, God forbid," Athellenas interrupted, cutting in on Derren's behalf.

"Well, in that case, I suppose I cannot bear ill will towards you," the Cleric said to Derren, bowing his head slightly as a show of respect. "I believe everyone will be proving themselves to each other in the days ahead."

"Well?"

"Uh…" Sir Derren murmured, squinting into the spyglass, trying to get a better look at the city in front of him. Luckily, the red morning sun was rising in the east, which was behind him; otherwise, the sun's glare would have made it even harder to see.

Athellenas, Sir Derren, and Sir Brezhnov were all lying flat on their bellies on top of a tall, sandy hill overlooking the approach to the front gate of Iunu. The medium-sized Menaphite city was surrounded by a high wall of white stone, nestled in the middle of an expanse of hills. Actual, solid hills of earth; not sand dunes.

Iunu burned. Even without the spyglass, it was impossible to miss the columns of smoke rising from beyond the walls, or to smell the all-too-familiar smell of burning buildings.

"The city is definitely occupied by hostiles, but that's not what I'm trying to look at," Derren quickly clarified. "I don't think Iunu has been completely captured, yet."

"What makes you say that?"

"The city is divided into two sections; the outermost and largest part of the city, which is pretty much the whole place, and the inner part in the center. The inner city appears to be surrounded by another wall…it looks like there's fighting still going on at that wall, but it's impossible to be certain at this distance."

"You think there's still resistance in this place, even after all this time?" Sir Brezhnov asked, stroking his long, pointed black beard thoughtfully.

"Thammaron's hordes have already swept through here," Jerrod said, appearing suddenly, startling everyone else. It was as if he had materialized out of thin air. "The monsters you will find in that city are most likely part of a rearguard…probably led by a high-ish ranking demon…hopefully something whose head would look good in my bathroom after I separate it from its shoulders."

"What the hell are they still doing in the city if the rest of Thammaron's party has already gone?" Sir Brezhnov asked.

"Thammaron's main goal is Ullek," Jerrod informed the artillery commander. "And before he can get to Ullek, he must first sack Uzer…either way, Thammaron is not going to spend too much time waiting around for a city as inconsequential as this one to be fully razed. So, he probably left a small force to finish the job and kept right on going south."

"So we face only a rearguard force of dregs?" Sir Derren asked, disappointment almost audible in his tone.

"Think of it as your warm-up before trying to break through Shantay Pass," Jerrod shrugged, turning to head back down the hill. He took a step, but then stopped and glanced back at Athellenas and his two subordinates. "Oh, and judging by the fireball heading right for us, I would assume that the Zamorackians in the city have discovered us, rendering any further concealed reconnaissance unnecessary."

Sir Derren had time only to say, "Wha-?" before a roaring fireball, fired from an unseen catapult somewhere in the city, slammed into the hillside, sending earth and debris flying all over the place. Had the three commanders been standing, they would have been toppled by the force of the impact.

"Right, I'd say it's time we got going!" Athellenas exclaimed, leaping back up to his feet.

The next two hours were a blur. Athellenas conferred with all of his subordinate commanders to organize for the upcoming assault on Iunu after making sure the legions were ready to move.

"We're doing this fast, and we're doing it simple," Athellenas asserted. "No need for fancy tactics here; we outnumber the enemy, for one, and the enemy has yet to completely pacify the city. They will be fighting on two sides."

"They still hold the gate, though. We must-" Sir Derren was saying, but Athellenas quelled him.

"You're forgetting one thing," Athellenas reminded his subordinate. "The Zamorackians had to breach the gate in order for them to get inside of the city in the first place, which means the gate is already weakened. Brezhnov?"

"Sir?" Sir Brezhnov straightened up, awaiting what he knew were going to be his orders.

"How accurate is your long-range mortar?"

"My cannon-boys could shoot the wings off a fly with it, sir," Sir Brezhnov replied.

Athellenas rumbled with laughter. "That's what I like to hear. I want you to bring the mortar, as well as the trebuchets, up to these hills. I want your men to knock down that gate."

"Sounds easy enough, sir," Sir Brezhnov nodded. "What of the field cannons?"

"I do not believe we will be needing them," Athellenas replied. "I've been wrong in the past, however, so keep them manned…but put them in reserve, unless I call for you to do otherwise or if you're absolutely certain the battle calls for them."

"It will be done, Warmaster," Sir Brezhnov nodded again, clasping his fist to his heart and bowing his head in a salute.

"Sir Derren, send word to Sir Havarell; tell him to concentrate his cavalry around Sir Brezhnov's artillery positions," Athellenas ordered. "Taking the city will be the infantry's job. And while you're down with the rest of the column, find Doctor Meridius and tell him and the other medical staff to start setting up their field hospitals."

"Right," Sir Derren nodded. The younger knight hurried over to the tree where his horse was tied and mounted it, riding off back towards the 1st Element's position.

The hills were soon filled with creaking, groaning, and clanking sounds as Sir Brezhnov's men went about setting up the siege equipment. Athellenas sat atop Onyx in the middle of the flurry of activity. He made a suggestion or two to the artillerists nearby about the positioning of the trebuchets, but most of the time he just kept quiet and let Sir Brezhnov handle matters. Brezhnov knew a lot more about artillery than Athellenas did.

Every once in a while, fireballs would slam into the hills, fired from within Iunu. None of the burning projectiles ever hit anything, but they were still a nuisance. Athellenas just hoped that none of them hit any of the trebuchets—the catapults were hard to fix.

Over the next half an hour, the three legions of the 1st Element, led by their respective generals, had made their way through the hills and onto the wide expanse of sand that existed between the hills and the city walls, forming up into their formations.

Athellenas spurred Onyx on and galloped down from the hills and into his Element's formations. "Pikemen in front, archers behind!" the Warmaster bellowed at the top of his lungs so that his voice could be heard.

The IV Legion, under General Sinclair, was going in first, with the I and X Legions taking up the flanks. Thirteen-thousand men, fully armed and ready to fight, was quite a sight to see. Athellenas could only imagine what having all four Elements of the Centralian Army together would be like.

Sir Derren rode up alongside Athellenas as the Warmaster headed towards the front of the advance. "All generals report their legions are ready, sir," the younger knight informed his superior.

"Good. Sound the advance."

The horns started to blow, sending their harsh vibrations through the hills. The great formation of Centralian foot-soldiers began to surge forward like a wave, albeit an ordered and well-organized wave.

As the 1st Element moved up, the walls around Iunu's gate suddenly came to life. Orcs, goblins, chaos dwarves, death knights—the whole party, all of them armed with crossbows and longbows. A hail of arrows streaked down from the walls, tearing right through the air towards the 1st Element.

"Shields! Shields!" Athellenas screamed. He could hear soldiers shouting the same thing all throughout the formation.

As one, thousands of soldiers hunkered down to the ground, locking their shields together in a near-impenetrable wall of steel. Most of the arrows clanked harmlessly off of the shields, but there were always a few that found their marks. Screams rose up from the ranks, coming from men who had the misfortune of getting hit.

There was nothing to be done for them except keep to moving forward. Eventually, medics would recover the wounded and rush them back to the field hospitals where surgeons would be waiting to attend to them.

The IV Legion quickly got back on its feet and started moving again.

The hordes manning Iunu's walls began firing at will. Ballistae bolts and more fireballs arced up through the sky, raining hell upon the Centralians. Again, there was nothing to be done except to keep on pushing forward.

Athellenas hated this part of battle the most; coming under attack in this fashion without having a way to directly strike back. For now, he had to rely on the artillery. And speaking of artillery, it would be prudent to call it in now before the soldiers got too close to the gates.

"Sir Derren, signal Brezhnov!" the Warmaster called out to his subordinate. "Get those gates open!"

"Aye!" Derren replied, raising the small horn which he usually kept tied to his saddle up to his lips, blowing it three quick times. After a second's pause, an identical horn call sounded off in the hills.

"Mind the skies, boys!" Athellenas shouted.

A hail of heavy flaming projectiles, from Brezhnov's trebuchets in the hills behind the advance, streaked through the late afternoon sky, all of them aimed around the city gates, which the IV Legion was drawing ever nearer to. None of the projectiles hit the gate, but they did hit the walls surrounding it. Athellenas's heart burned with satisfaction as he watched goblins and orcs get obliterated by the impacts. The barrage did not clear the walls, not by a longshot, but it did take out a sizable number of the beasts manning them.

A loud, echoing BOOM rumbled through the area, louder than any of the other sounds of battle. Athellenas instinctively knew that it was Sir Brezhnov's long-range mortar cannon. This was the first time it was actually being used in a battle.

There was a slight whooshing noise, followed immediately by a large explosion right in front of the city gates. A small crater was blasted into the sand, but the gate remained intact.

"Keep it moving!" General Sinclair was shouting over the noise of the next wave of fireballs that was screaming over the walls of the city. Several of the fireballs managed to land near the formations, sending men flying in all directions.

The doctors would not be idle today, nor would the gore-crows.

There was another boom, another whoosh, another explosion. This time, the projectile slammed right into the gates. The city gates, already severely weakened by the punishment they had received when Thammaron's hordes had forced their way inside, were instantly blown inward.

Brezhnov's trebuchets unleashed another barrage, this one aimed behind the gate area. The rain of fire continually pounded the area beyond the gates, causing untold amounts of havoc.

"Archers!" Athellenas commanded the moment the legions drew within range.

The archers, who had been protected by the shields of the pikemen in front of them, now dropped to their knees and picked their targets, loosing a volley of arrows up towards the walls. Athellenas ensured that the archers were trained hard and trained often. As such, none of the archers were bad shots. This was demonstrated in the amount of beasts that first volley knocked off the walls. Some of the monsters even pitched forward, falling all the way down to the ground, landing with audible crunches.

The archers got back to their feet and kept on moving up with the advance. When they were ready to fire, they would quickly drop back down to a knee and fire off another arrow, and then they would stand back up and rejoin the advance while nocking another arrow.

The hellish barrage of fireballs from Sir Brezhnov's trebuchets abated as the IV Legion neared the gate.

General Sinclair divided up his legion into its seven cohorts, sending them each forward one by one. Each cohort would pass through the city gates, one company at a time. It was slow going at first, but the flow eventually sped up and held steady.

Once all of IV Legion had passed through the burning gates of Iunu, Athellenas dug his heels into Onyx and galloped off towards the gates. He passed through them around the same time the forerunners of the X Legion were entering.

The IV Legion had held position on the Boulevard—the large, wide, main street that ran from the city gate directly to the city center. As per Athellenas's orders, it would not advance further into the city until the I and X Legions were in the city as well. Similar to the formation for approaching the city, the IV Legion would advance straight up the Boulevard while the I and X Legions would fan out and move through the rest of the city on either side of the Boulevard, keeping the IV Legion's flanks clear.

Iunu was still somewhat on fire. Thammaron's army had really done a number on it from what Athellenas could see; every single building was either completely leveled, or at least partially damaged. There wasn't a single structure that was unscathed. The streets were pitted and scorched, littered with rubbish, debris, wreckage...and the corpses of those unfortunate enough to get caught in the violence. Many of the remains were just burnt skeletons, but others were...fresher. Athellenas did not look at them for too long.

Of course, Athellenas's forces bombarding the place with fireballs hadn't exactly helped, either. That had been necessary, though. Either way, the Menaphites, if they survived the coming storm, were going to have one hell of a time trying to rebuild.

Then again, Athellenas was certain that Iunu was not the only place Thammaron had 'visited' so far. What happened here was only one destruction in a string of many. Countless towns and villages had probably been completely wiped from existence. The only reason Iunu was still recognizable as a city was probably because it had walls.

As Athellenas made his way towards the IV Legion, a familiar howling sound arose from what seemed like all sides at once. The Warmaster had heard that sound before. "Werewolves!" Athellenas roared. "Prepare yourselves!"

There was a collective shing as thousands of men drew their swords nearly in perfect unison.

"I thought werewolves could only become werewolves during the full moon!" Sir Derren exclaimed, wildly pulling his sword from its sheath, reining in his steed.

"They're strongest during the full moon!" Athellenas corrected his subordinate. "They can change anytime they want!"

The two commanders of the 1st Element were still galloping down the Boulevard at full clip towards the IV Legion's position when they finally attacked. Contrary to popular myths and legends, werewolves were not massive, bloody, hair-covered, shaggy beasts. In fact, their skin was quite smooth. They resembled wolves, but wolves with human characteristics. They were able to stand on their hind legs and use their arms like a man, but they could not hold weapons. Their bodies were sleek and sinewy, rippling with muscle. They had elongated faces, looking exactly like a normal wolf except for the mouths and the eyes.

The mouths of werewolves were more feral and fierce than that of any normal wolf, possessing two rows of razor-sharp incisors that were filed to points. The eyes actually glowed a dull sheen of yellow, though the glowing aspect was not visible in the desert sun.

There were at least a hundred of them, boiling out of every surrounding building and alleyway, all of them loping along on all fours, making a beeline for the men of the IV Legion. Around twelve or thirteen of them peeled away from the main group, noticing Derren and Athellenas charging right towards them, turning to face this new threat.

Athellenas whirled his sword around his wrist, getting ready to plunge it into the first werewolf to cross his path. Shouts and clashing noises could be heard as the IV Legion started fighting off the wolves. Athellenas could even hear the sickening thucks of the werewolves throwing themselves onto the spears of the pikemen.

The fastest of the breakaway werewolves tensed its hind legs and pounced, extending its claws and drawing its paw back to swipe Athellenas's head off. It never even got the chance to start its blow.

Athellenas gave a raw-throated, "YAH!" and rammed his heels into Onyx's sides. The dappled gray-and-white steed leaped into the air as well. This surprised the werewolf, which hadn't been expecting to fight an enemy on an equal elevation while it was leaping. The Warmaster plunged his sword right through the werewolf's ribs. The werewolf gave a startled, pained yelp, and then went limp on the runite blade, its blood draining out of the wound.

The impact of Onyx hitting the street again was enough to dislodge the werewolf corpse from the sword blade. Unfortunately, Athellenas didn't have time to swing around to meet the second werewolf that was leaping from the other direction. The werewolf slammed into the Warmaster, knocking him clean off of Onyx.

Athellenas got a faceful of sharp, yellow teeth. He tried to move his sword, but the werewolf's hind legs were pinning it to the ground.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of hot, searing light. The werewolf let out a piercing screech of agony in the moment it had before combusting into a charred skeleton. Athellenas wrinkled his nose at the smell of burnt flesh, pushing the skeleton off of him.

The Warmaster looked up to catch a glimpse of his savior and was surprised to see none other than Paladin Anesti, the holy symbol of Saradomin atop his staff still glowing brightly. The Paladin gave Athellenas a quick nod before galloping on towards the IV Legion.

There was a high-pitched shriek from off to the side of the street. Athellenas sprang back to his feet and took in the sight of Onyx, his horse, lying on his side, about to get his throat torn out by the werewolf which had taken him down.

Athellenas reached down to his belt, pulled out his dagger, and threw the shorter blade with all his strength. It flew through the air before striking the wolf right in the forehead with a dull thwuck. The werewolf's tongue hung limp and it sagged over to the side. Onyx took the opportunity to get himself back onto his feet.

Athellenas recovered his knife and remounted, taking up the reins, and headed off towards the IV Legion as well. Staying out in the open was a sure way to get killed. Sir Derren fell into pace abreast of him. The two commanders set their horses forward at full clip, dodging the remaining werewolves which were trying to tear them to pieces.

A soldier with a closely-trimmed black beard showing from the face space in his helmet ducked a werewolf's swipe that had been aimed at his neck. The soldier bashed the werewolf square in the face with his shield, sending it reeling back, right into the path of Athellenas as he sped back towards the main formation.

Athellenas cleaved his blade downward and separated the werewolf's head from its shoulders.

"Warmaster," the soldier nodded to Athellenas in thanks before he turned his attention back to the battle.

Dozens of men were wounded, bearing deep lacerations and injuries from the werewolves' fierce attack. Those who had not been killed, that is. Men were dragging their wounded comrades off the streets and over to the sidewalks, guarding them as they lay on the ground and concentrated hard on not dying. Not all of them would succeed before the medics reached them.

Athellenas caught sight of two werewolves who were feasting on the corpse of a slain pikeman. That, more than anything, made the Warmaster's rage burn red-hot. Losing soldiers under his command was painful enough, but watching their bodies get desecrated…

Athellenas dismounted and tightened the grip on his sword, striding through the carnage towards the two werewolves.

The two beasts looked up from their dinner, blood still dripping from their teeth, catching sight of their next meal. One of them licked its chops and sprang to its feet, warily circling around and behind Athellenas while the second wolf stayed in front of him. Both of them circled the Warmaster, each keeping on an opposite side, judging Athellenas's guard, as well as their chances of survival if they went ahead and attacked.

Athellenas raised his sword over his head, assuming a high guard once more.

Finally, they seemed to have reached a consensus that Athellenas was just a weak old man. Both werewolves bared their teeth in a savage grin and leaped for the aging Warmaster.

Athellenas dove to the side, bringing his sword down into the wolf that had been in front of him. It sliced right through the werewolf's front arms like a red-hot poker through a thin sheet of ice. The werewolf howled in agony and collapsed to the ground, its hind legs kicking and scrabbling uselessly behind it on the cobblestones.

The Warmaster whipped around to take out the second werewolf, but was surprised to find it already lying dead on the ground, a silver throwing star embedded halfway into its skull.

Jerrod appeared from the mob of recovering soldiers, heading towards his kill. "This is mine, thank you very much," the Cleric grunted, crouching down over the corpse of the one werewolf and grasping the throwing star stuck in the back of its head. He heaved, trying to yank it out, but it remained stubbornly embedded.

"Good luck getting it out, old friend," Athellenas chuckled. The Warmaster wiped his sword off on the armless werewolf's fur and sheathed it. He then pulled out his dagger and kneeled down, placing a knee on the werewolf's neck. He reached down, held his knife to the wolf's throat, and drew a savage line. The werewolf convulsed; dark, maroon blood spilling from its slit throat.

Athellenas wiped his knife off on the dying werewolf's fur as well, sticking it back into his belt, looking back up just in time to see Jerrod employ a grisly method to retrieve his throwing star.

The Cleric was whispering something under his breath. His elemental staff began to hum with energy and the orb started to glow crimson. Small tongues of flame licked up the length of the staff as Jerrod continued invoking the elemental energy of fire.

The Cleric brought the butt of his staff smashing down onto the dead werewolf's skull. The dead beast's head exploded into flames for a brief moment before disintegrating into ashes. Jerrod leaned over and fished his silver throwing star out of the ashes, slipping it back into his tunic. He cocked an eyebrow at Athellenas. "You were saying?"

"Show-off…" the Warmaster grumbled, allowing himself a quiet chuckle before snapping back to the present. "Form up! Form up!" Athellenas bellowed, getting the men of the IV Legion to form back up into their formations.

The Warmaster made his way through the ranks of the IV Legion, heading up to the fore of the formation. Much to his dismay, Athellenas was greeted with the sight of General Sinclair lying on the ground, breathing heavily. The brown-haired, bearded general weakly clasped a fist to his heart in a salute when he saw the Warmaster approaching.

"General Sinclair…" Athellenas returned the salute. The Warmaster looked at the trio of lacerations crisscrossing the IV Legion General's stomach and abdomen. Another man was pressing a cloth to the wounds to keep the blood from flowing freely. "Is it mortal?"

"Oh, Gods no," Sinclair scoffed, pushing himself up into a higher sitting-up position. "It'll take more than a few scratches to bring me down… I… I don't think I'll be able to continue like this, however…"

"Absolutely not," Athellenas agreed. "Stay put and wait for the medics; they'll be along shortly. In the meantime, I am going to assume command of your legion."

"So be it."

Athellenas spurred his steed on and took the head of the IV Legion. He sent Sir Derren off to the north flank to check up on the I Legion, and then sent an aide back outside of the city to contact Sir Havarell. He wanted the cavalry to secure the Boulevard while the legions pushed through the rest of the city.

The battle lasted well into the night. The whole city was illuminated by the fires caused by the destruction wreaked by the heavy siege engines, as well as the ferocity of the fighting. Soon after the werewolf ambush, the IV Legion had run into a snag, facing off with a staunch defense-line of death knights who held one of the main roads that intersected the Boulevard which Athellenas was advancing down.

All in the meanwhile, there were shouts, cries, and the sounds of battle coming from the inner city. Athellenas never had the chance to actually see what was going on in the inner city, though. The demands of battle in the present required his total attention.

The death knights proved costly to break through. They were these tall, human-shaped…things…clad in armor adorned with spikes. It was impossible to see their faces, if they even had any. All that was underneath their helmets was darkness.

Athellenas ultimately ended up calling in Sir Havarell's cavalry and broke the death knights' line by charging right through them. It cost a few lives, but it cost less than it would have had Athellenas sent in the infantry.

After the death knights, there had been a good-sized force of chaos dwarves, undead, and several other monsters Athellenas did not even recognize.

Athellenas began to lose himself in the battle. He lost track of how many times his blade plunged through metal and flesh, how many times he cleaved into an enemy, how many times he parried, thrusted, slashed, and cut. Everything started to blur.

The Warmaster was detached from the carnage around him, to a small degree. He was aware of his surroundings, his actions, as well as the orders he gave, but it almost felt like he was watching himself kill those enemies, like he was watching himself give orders to his subordinates, rather than actually doing them himself.

There had been at least two or three thousand monsters from Thammaron's horde within the walls of Iunu. That was much more than Athellenas had been expecting. It also made the Warmaster slightly nervous; if Thammaron had been able to spare over two thousand monsters to act as a mopping-up crew to pacify some small, irritating, insignificant city up north, then exactly how large was his entire horde?

Athellenas did not want to know.

Outnumbered as they were, those monsters fought back against Athellenas's men with a sheer ferocity that only a cornered animal knows. They made the 1st Element pay in blood for every recaptured city district.

Athellenas was busy leading the IV Legion on the main advance, so he was not able to pay as much attention to the I and X Legions as he would have liked. However, Generals Airoh and Dhalit were more than capable of leading their respective legions without Athellenas's supervision. Their performance was commendable.

Gradually, the I Legion swept up around the southern reaches of the city while the X Legion hooked around up north. As the IV Legion drove to the east towards the city center, the other two legions maneuvered around the city's outer perimeter, being nothing more than a minor annoyance to the Zamorackian defenders, all of whom were desperately focused on Keeping the IV Legion held back.

Once Airoh and Dhalit were in position, however, they sent their legions forward, utterly smashing through the meager defenses the monsters had initially implemented to attempt to repel them.

The pressure on the IV Legion eased when the demon in charge of the Zamorackian forces in Iunu thinned the amount of forces on the Boulevard, sending them elsewhere into the city to try to stop the onslaught of the rest of the 1st Element.

In this critical moment when the monsters were distracted by attempting to disengage while retreating, Athellenas brought Sir Havarell back in with his cavalry. Many of the monsters had a lot of trouble standing up to men on horseback; something about the thundering hoofbeats, the riders' feral cries, the sheer speed of the cavalry at full clip…many monsters were unable to hold fast against cavalry.

Sir Havarell smashed a jagged path right up through the Boulevard. Athellenas was hot on his heels, sending the four-thousand men of the IV Legion into the vacuum created by Havarell's bloody charge. As the cavalry retreated back to the gate, their task finished, it was the IV Legion that resumed the attack.

The monsters never recovered from the three-pronged offensive. Their defenses were too weak, too shoddy. The IV Legion ran into attacks occasionally from monsters that had hidden whilst their brethren were slaughtered, but they were quickly put down.

It was well into the middle of the night when the three legions of the 1st Element finally converged on the inner city, having wiped out every last Zamorackian stain in the rest of the city.

Athellenas personally shook hands with Airoh and Dhalit, congratulating and thanking them for their exceptional service.

"Where's Sinclair?" Airoh asked after the formalities were dispensed with.

"He got scratched up by a werewolf back near the city gate," Athellenas replied. "He'll be right back to it in a few weeks, though."

"Good to hear."

"Warmaster Athellenas, sir!" a man on horseback galloped up to the meeting between the Warmaster and his two generals. "Uh, sorry to interrupt," the man offered a quick salute to his superiors, "but there's still one last pocket of hostile activity. Death knights, sir, and a demon. Probably the leader of the horde we fought here."

"Generals, attend to your legions," Athellenas saluted Airoh and Dhalit. "I shall be back shortly."

Athellenas was led around the circumference of the inner city wall that protected the heart of Iunu. The last pocket of monsters was located in the square that was in front of the inner city gate.

Soldiers of the IV Legion surrounded the square, barring every possible escape with swords and spears.

In the center of the square, a ring of twenty or so death knights stood fast, standing as still as statues, their black swords at the ready. They made no sound; they only waited to be challenged.

In the middle of the ring was a large, red-skinned beast. It possessed a large mouth full of pointy incisors, hellish red eyes, two horns that protruded from its head, incredibly muscular arms and legs, as well as a thin, wiry torso. The demon seemed to radiate power.

Athellenas's mind flashed back to the demon he had single-handedly killed a month before at Ephyrn, though he knew that this demon was much more powerful. It was a greater demon, probably one of Thammaron's higher-ranking lieutenants. At the same time, it probably wasn't too high of a rank, otherwise Thammaron would not have left it to conquer this city. Still, this demon seemed to have a limited capability of invoking magic. The Warmaster didn't like his chances.

Just as Athellenas moved to dismount, a hand gripped him on the arm, preventing him from getting off Onyx. It was Father Jerrod.

"Hold a second, there, old friend," the Cleric cautioned. "I think I'll handle this one."

Athellenas, without the slightest hint of shame, agreed. "I think I'll let you," the Warmaster replied. "That demon is out of my league."

Jerrod's mouth curved in a wry grin. "That demon isn't that good; you could probably take it. But I'm leaving after we take this city, so this is my only chance to cap a demon one-on-one. Don't worry, though; I'm sure Thammaron has other subordinates you can butcher later on."

"Go give it hell, old friend," Athellenas clapped Jerrod on the back. "But first, just one thing…" the Warmaster cupped a hand to his mouth and barked, "Archers!"

There was a small commotion as the IV Legion's archers moved up to the front, drawing back their bows and taking aim.

"Take out as many as you can!" Athellenas urged them. "Fire!"

The arrows made a loud whistling screech as they flew through the air and hit the death knights. Half of the death knights fell, arrows protruding from their vital places. That filled Athellenas with a fierce satisfaction; mystical and invincible as the death knights appeared, they were just as killable as the next man.

The death knights—the surviving ones, at least—surged forward. Athellenas knew they did this futile action with the intention of taking out as many soldiers before they met their own doom. Athellenas did not intend to give them the satisfaction.

The Warmaster spurred Onyx forward and charged right into a trio of the charging death knights. He decapitated the first and cleaved the second down to its hip. Normally, such a move would be impossible, but Athellenas's runite sword could cut through a lot more than what a common steel alloy one could.

The third death knight, which had been trampled under Onyx's hooves, sprang back up and twisted to strike at Athellenas, but a nearby soldier was able to hurl a spear right into its neck. The death knight gurgled on what was probably its own blood before collapsing to the ground, dead.

Only five or six death knights were able to reach the IV Legion soldiers; all the rest were taken down by archers and thrown spears. Those half-dozen death knights caused a fair amount of havoc wherever they attacked, but they, too, were quickly dispatched. Athellenas was briefly able to see Paladin Anesti taking on two by himself.

During the slaughter of its subordinates, the greater demon in charge had not moved a muscle. After the last death knight fell, however, it reached down to its waist and drew a huge, wicked-looking, curved blade. It was black and adorned with spikes. No doubt it was a blade that had already spilled its fair share of Saradominist blood.

None of the IV Legion soldiers moved, either. The only figure who was moving was Jerrod. The Cleric had pulled his cowl over his head, using his elemental staff like a walking stick.

"You challenge me?" the demon hissed in a voice that was felt more than heard.

"Bet on it, tomato-boy," Jerrod replied, coming to a stop right in front of the red-skinned greater demon.

"This shall be your last mistake, priest," the demon spat, uttering the word 'priest' as if it were a curse. To the likes of a demon, however, it probably was a curse.

The demon struck, bringing its blade cleaving down towards the ground, hitting the place where Jerrod had been standing an instant before. The Cleric landed off to the side, rolling back up to his feet. He twisted around, thrusting his staff forward, letting out a guttural cry.

The staff glowed scarlet, exploding with fire, which shot right into the demon's chest. The demon twisted away in the nick of time, but it still received a nasty burn on its chest for its trouble.

The demon recovered faster than Jerrod expected and brought its blade cleaving down onto the Cleric's staff. There was a conflagration of sparks and a bright white flash as black metal met wood, but the staff was completely unblemished.

"It's gonna take a lot more than that, demon," Jerrod chuckled. The Cleric muttered something else under his breath, pointing his staff downwards. The orb flashed brown and the pavement cracked, quickly turning into sand. The moment this happened, Jerrod lashed out, kicking the sand into the oncoming demon's face.

The demon had not been expecting this. It staggered back, grunting as the sand flew right into its eyes.

Jerrod struck at the demon, now that it was distracted. He landed a hit on the demon's left arm. The demon howled, a gash appearing on its limb. It brought its curved blade about and dealt another blow towards the Cleric, fully intending to rip Jerrod to shreds. The demon was really thirsting for Jerrod's blood by now.

Jerrod matched the demon blow for blow, blocking every single strike with his staff, deflecting and redirecting the demon's swipes. This lasted for a good two or three minutes flat; Demon and Cleric locked in seemingly-endless melee combat.

After a momentary pause between blows, Jerrod quickly closed his eyes and concentrated. He focused on his own inner life force, invoking a mixture of fire energy and his own life force. The result was a blindingly-bright flash of light.

Athellenas had to look away. The image of Jerrod shoving a fistful of light into the demon's face was still imprinted in the Warmaster's retinas.

The demon was temporarily blinded, having the light shining directly in front of its eyes. It took a step back when the light abated, but Jerrod offered it no reprieve. The Cleric darted his staff in under the demon's guard and twirled it around its blade in an elegant circle, ripping the blade from the demon's grip.

Jerrod ducked under a swipe from the demon's claws, murmuring under his breath as he did so. His staff began to hum and vibrate, motes of white energy flickering up its length, congregating around the orb at the top, which was also beginning to glow white. The energy was building up.

The demon tried beheading the Cleric with a two-hand cross-cut, but Jerrod ducked once again, rolling off to the side, still chanting under his breath. His elemental staff began to glow brighter and brighter as the energy built up.

Jerrod's chanting intensified and grew in volume until he was practically shouting. The staff was now a bright rod of light. A critical point had been reached, and now the energy needed to be released.

Jerrod sidestepped one last swipe, stepped in close to the demon, and thrust his staff forward, striking the demon right in the chest. The pent-up energy was released in the form of a withering storm of lightning. White and blue lightning flowed from the staff, lancing through the demon's body. The demon did not even have a chance to cry out before the lightning reduced it to a charred skeleton.

There was complete and total silence. The watching soldiers were in awe of what they had just witnessed; an aging man single-handedly taking down a greater demon.

Jerrod straightened up. He yawned and stretched, flexing his shoulders and rolling his neck, easing out all of the kinks. He spun his elemental staff around his fingers and planted its base back onto the ground, leaning on it like a walking stick.

As the Cleric made his way through the square, the IV Legion soldiers parted respectfully. "You were right, old friend," Jerrod chuckled to Athellenas as he passed by. "This was fun."