Chapter 52

Battle on the Bridge

"This is quite the vicious curse Meridia placed upon you," Moralasil remarked as he sat back on the floor of his tent, folding his hands on his lap. "It's honestly remarkable that you've endured it as well as you have."

"Can you dispel it?" Telepe asked anxiously. "I'm becoming more exhausted by the day. Tari's potions have managed to keep me awake thus far, but she fears that they'll become less effective as my body becomes used to them."

Moralasil sadly shook his head. "Unfortunately, I don't know if I can," he admitted apologetically. Telepe's stomach sank as the Ayleid added, "Rest assured, I shall pray to Magnus for a cure. However, while I am certain that my god possesses the power to remove her curse, I don't know if I do."

Telepe lowered his eyes to the floor of the tent, digging his fingers into the cushion he was sitting on. "And if there is no way to break it?" he murmured.

Moralasil tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his leg. "Then perhaps your only hope of relief is to fulfill the terms of her curse," he replied slowly. "Though I am certain that you don't consider that a viable solution."

"I do not," Telepe replied firmly. He certainly wasn't going to murder Perrif, and even if Pelinal and Morihaus might survive whatever retribution Meridia had planned, he was unwilling to test their own divinity against a Daedric Prince. He would rather die than murder others just to save himself.

Moralasil nodded and smiled faintly. "I presumed as much. Well, even if I cannot lift the curse, perhaps I can at least provide some relief."

The Ayleid leaned forward a bit more and pressed his hands against Telepe's chest. He inhaled slowly, then released a burst of magic. Telepe let out a gasp as a shock ran through his body, and for a moment, he wondered if Moralasil had cast a lightning spell. A moment later, the magic dissipated, and his body felt rejuvenated. His limbs were lighter than they had been in days, and he was no longer struggling to keep his eyes open.

"What was that?" Telepe asked breathlessly, flexing his fingers as pinpricks ran through them.

"A simple spell to restore and fortify your fatigue," Moralasil replied with a smile. "As with Tari's potions, this is no substitute for proper sleep. For now, however, you should feel as though you have enjoyed a night's rest. Your fatigue will still accumulate day by day, I'm afraid, and I shall need to cast stronger versions of this spell to compensate. Until we can find a way to break the curse, however, this, and Tari's alchemy, should prevent you from collapsing."

Telepe lowered his hand and nodded, smiling warmly at Moralasil. "Thank you," he murmured.

"There is no need to thank me," Moralasil chuckled, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Consider it a favor."

"As you say. But I try to repay my favors," Telepe replied with a grin. "As such, I shall begin petitioning Perrif on your behalf to include Magnus in her pantheon. After all, between the aid you've given the rebellion, and our quest for his staff, it would be wise for us to curry his favor."

Morihaus smiled faintly and inclined his head. "Your offer is kind," the sage replied softly. "However, there is no need to trouble yourself for my sake."

"It's no trouble-!" Telepe insisted, but Moralasil held up his hand.

"I have already made my suggestions to her," Moralasil said calmly. "If she was going to induct Magnus as part of her pantheon, she would have done so by now. Her silence on the matter is her response, and neither of us is likely to change her mind."

Telepe hesitated. "Are you certain?" he asked with a frown. "It seems a shame to deny you when you've done so much…."

"Ah, but therein lies the problem," Moralasil replied calmly. "And it's one that I should have recognized earlier. I fear that if she were to include Magnus in her pantheon at my insistence, she would be doing so for the sake of fulfilling a favor to me, rather than out of legitimate devotion to my god. I have no doubt that this would greatly displease Magnus." The sage chuckled lightly. "I have come to accept that the god of magic likely has no place in Perrif's Cyrod."

Telepe hesitated, then slowly lowered his gaze. "If you're certain. You have my condolences," he murmured. "I know that you were deeply invested in ensuring the widespread worship of Magnus."

Moralasil shook his head. "There is no reason for you to apologize, boy," he replied calmly. "You were not the one who made this decision. What's more, it's not as though this will cause Magnus to fade into obscurity." Telepe looked up and tilted his head, as Moralasil pointed upwards. "None can deny his influence upon Nirn. Every day, when the sun rises, the people are forced to acknowledge his presence. Each time a man or mer casts a spell, they do thanks to Magnus. In fact, every spell could be seen as an invocation of Magnus' name." The Ayleid smiled serenely and sat back on his cushion. "Even if he is not formalized as part of this girl's new religion, my god shall not be forgotten. He shall continue to enjoy worship all throughout the world. Even here in Cyrod."

"I suppose you have a point," Telepe agreed thoughtfully. Then a slight grin spread across his lips. "And for what it's worth, Magnus is also widely venerated in my homeland."

"Indeed," Moralasil laughed lightly. "All high elves honor him in some way. And that should be enough for him." His smile faded, and the Ayleid leaned forward slightly. "I also owe you an apology."

"For what?" Telepe asked, tilting his head.

"You have not yet mastered invisibility, have you?" the sage asked. Telepe looked away uneasily, and Moralasil nodded. "Forgive me," he added, reaching out and fumbling around to rest a bony hand on Telepe's knee. "I have been devoting nearly all of my attention to Tari, and I neglected to notice that you required formal instruction as well."

Telepe shook his head. "Tari has far more talent for magic than I, and her need to learn it is far greater than mine," he replied.

Moralasil chuckled. "Your patience is greatly appreciated," the Ayleid said easily, sitting back and folding his hands in front of him again. "Now then. How have you been attempting to cast the spell?"

Telepe frowned as he held out a hand and focused for a moment, whereupon a light sprang to life in his palm. "I've been doing as you suggested – attempting to dim the light without reducing the amount of magicka I pour into the spell," he explained.

"Very good. And have you been successful?" Moralasil asked.

"Somewhat," Telepe said slowly. He concentrated on the orb, and the light's radiance began to diminish. However, while he was able to reduce its glow to roughly that of a brightly burning piece of charcoal, he couldn't extinguish it completely.

"I see. That's a good start," Moralasil nodded. "However, the fact that you can't darken it completely suggests that we're approaching this incorrectly. My apologies." He tilted his head thoughtfully, then said slowly, "It may be that you now possess the power and control necessary to cast the spell, but you are not visualizing it properly. That is my mistake. Perhaps we should approach this another way."

"What do you suggest?" Telepe asked with a disappointed frown, lowering his hand.

Moralasil sat back, tilting his head up towards the ceiling. "When I think of the absence of sight, I personally think of darkness. Perhaps for you, darkness is not what you need to envision." He looked back down and pressed his fingers against his lips.

Telepe leaned forward and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. After they had sat in silence for several long moments, he slowly suggested, "…What about water?"

"Water?" Moralasil asked, lowering his hands.

"When I envision darkness, I envision the color black," Telepe explained. "That, to me, is not invisibility. I instead think of someone, in full daylight, looking past me, or even through me, like one would with a droplet of water."

"Intriguing," Moralasil said slowly, scratching his chin. "In hindsight, that makes sense. I was raised as a devotee of Magnus. I was taught that darkness is the antithesis of light, the absence of it, and without light, one could not see – thus, invisibility. Water, on the other hand, was simply another element. Even though it's clear, it's still visible, so if I cast the spell while using water as a focus, with that mindset, I would fail." The elf then chuckled and raised his head. "Teaching magic can be quite the challenge, as calling upon it requires one to focus their mind, and unfortunately, minds work differently from person to person. Especially across cultures, it seems." The sage nodded and sat back. "Very well. Do not try to dim the light. Instead, focus upon the nature of water, particularly its clarity."

Telepe hesitated. "You cannot give me clearer guidance than that?" he asked hesitantly.

Moralasil shook his head. "Sensory magic is not absolute, especially compared to elemental and modification magic. As you should know by now, it depends far more upon one's own perceptions and creativity. If you wish to use water as the basis for your invisibility spell, you must discover how to apply it."

Telepe swallowed, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. As he did, Meridia's light began to creep into his eyes again, but as the burning sensation made him snap his eyes open again, it gave him an idea. He gathered another ball of light into his palm, then exhaled slowly and stared into its depths. As he did, he imagined droplets of light trickling off of his body, leaving nothing behind. He envisioned color and texture rolling off of skin, leaving behind cool, clear trails. The thought was refreshing, enticing even, as it served as a sort of escapism from the horrific curse that had been placed on him.

At first, nothing seemed to happen, but gradually, he noticed his hand fading from view. He let out a shocked gasp as his fingers disappeared, and then the rest of his hand. It lasted for only a moment, as his concentration broke when he noticed, which made his hand reappear. Nevertheless, he beamed as he released the magic and let out an overjoyed laugh.

"Ah… I take it you were successful?" Moralsasil asked with a smile.

"Quite!" Telepe crowed, flexing his fingers and staring at them in disbelief. Part of him wondered if he had been simply imagining it, if his delirious, sleep-deprived mind was playing tricks on him… but he was certain that he had been successful, if only for a moment.

"Very good," Moralasil said in a tempered tone. "Now, bear in mind that this spell consumes a great deal of magicka, and maintaining it for more than a few seconds is exceedingly taxing. Thus, it is imperative that you master making your entire body vanish all at once, and then upon maintaining the spell long enough for it to be of use. Understand?"

"I do," Telepe confirmed with a nod. Then he grinned. "And thank you. I simply wish we'd realized this sooner."

"That was my failure as a teacher. But your training thus far was not a waste of time," Moralasil assured him. "Practicing dimming the light did help you perfect the power and control necessary to cast this spell. I doubt you would have experienced any success before now, had you not trained as you did. In any case, for now, let's build upon your success. Focus once more, but this time, attempt to make your entire body vanish…."

The rebellion did not stay long outside the walls of Silorn. Three days after they had set up their tents outside the walls, Perrif approached their gates and asked to speak with the king. Less than two hours later, she reemerged and announced that Silorn had chosen to ally with the rebellion. When Telepe asked how she had secured the kingom's cooperation so quickly, she explained that the king had already realized that he was isolated and outnumbered, even if their nearest allies, Nornalhorst, could arrive in time to assist them. What's more, the king had witnessed Pelinal's ferocious attack on the Khajiit army, particularly how he had single-handedly driven them into retreat. Thus, there was no point in fighting a battle that they were certain to lose. What's more, the rebellion's terms were generous enough that surrendering and joining their alliance was palatable. Telepe was chagrined to hear that Pelinal's massacre of the Khajiit had any benefit, but he held his tongue.

From there, the rebellion marched east to Nornalhurst, where the city threw open its gates as soon as the rebels approached. They, like Silorn, almost immediately agreed to an alliance with Perrif, and they informed her that their slaves had been liberated before the rebellion had arrived. Telepe suspected that the King of Silorn had sent a message advising the king that surrender was preferable to a hopeless battle, though he certainly wasn't about to complain about taking two cities without a fight.

Unfortunately, the army met with stiffer resistance when they approached the city of Nenyond Twyll. Before the city was in sight, Perrif's scouts reported that the Ayleid subjects living in the countryside around the city were fleeing for the city, and when the scouts had seen the city in the distance, the gates were already sealed. Perrif took this news with her usual calm grace, and when the rest of the army neared the city, they were met with a warning volley of arrows, which fell short of their lines, but made the Ayleids' determination to defend their city quite clear.

Perrif turned to King Vrage and politely asked him if he might demonstrate the futility of resistance. Vrage grinned at her request and summoned his Tongues. The Nordic warriors formed a line outside of the archers' range and unleashed a simultaneous shout that rocked Nenyond Twyll's walls, knocking some of the guards off the walls and sending them tumbling to the ground, while deep cracks split the marble face of the walls, spiderwebbing out from their impact points. Perrif then approached the city and calmly asked to speak with the king. The guards hastily hurried off to relay her request.

Before they returned, Perrif sent for Telepe and asked him to treat with the king on her behalf. When he received her request, though, Telepe was privately reluctant to agree. The curse was taking its toll on his body, even with Moralasil and Tari regularly applying potions and spells to him to help him retain his stamina. He was worried that his judgment might be too impaired to properly negotiate with the king. However, he also recognized what she was trying to do. By ensuring that he was also involved in the peacemaking process, she wanted to reaffirm her faith in him. Thus, he sent the messenger back to her with an acknowledgement of her request – he didn't dare speak with her face-to-face if he could avoid it, so as not to invoke Meridia's curse – and then he set off to meet with the king.

Telepe was met with a hostile reception as he walked through the gates of the city. The elves lining the streets jeered and pelted him with refuse, though thankfully, Teo's century of hoplites – sent with him as an honor guard – deflected most of the garbage that was thrown at him. Once inside the city, the king trembled with rage at Telepe's approach and demanded that the rebellion leave his realm at once.

Telepe responded by calmly informing the king that while they had no intention of declaring war upon Nenyond Twyll, if possible, they also did not intend to leave until they had signed a peace treaty. The king, however, arrogantly sneered and asked if the rebellion was that frightened of Umaril, with whom the king had aligned himself.

"Umaril?" Telepe repeated, folding his hands behind his back and looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "Yes, I've heard many tales of his prowess in battle."

"And all of them are true!" the king crowed.

"Are they?" Telepe asked coolly. "I wouldn't know. I've never seen him fight. Have you?"

The king smirked and shook his head. "I do not need to," he replied smugly.

"Nor shall you," Telepe added bluntly. The king's smirk faded, and Telepe continued, "Umaril bears the title of Meridia's champion, and has waged war against the rebellion for months now. Yet, for all his professed skill in battle, he has never once taken the field. Why do you suppose that is?"

The king hesitated, then narrowed his eyes. "A tiger does not hunt ants," he growled.

"True," Telepe agreed. "Yet this tiger has looked away as the ants have invaded his den, bitten his cubs, and walked away with his food. No matter how powerful a beast is, it matters little if they don't use their supposed strength." A slight smile pulled at his lips, and he added, "If anything, it seems to me that Umaril is frightened of facing the rebellion."

"He shall face you when he decides the time is right!" the king exclaimed, pushing himself up from his marble throne.

"Perhaps. And he may even emerge victorious," Telepe conceded. "But even if you insist upon following him, I can assure you that he shall not reward your loyalty. If we attack you, he shall not come to your aid, nor shall he avenge you when you are defeated."

"You cannot know that!" the king snapped. "Our walls are sturdy, and even if we cannot defeat you alone, if we can hold out until Umaril comes-!"

"Did he lend his aid to any other kingdom that the rebellion has taken?" Telepe pointed out. "Every kingdom that met us in battle has been defeated. And every loss has gone unavenged. All his army has done is harass us while we march; it has not yet faced us in a pitched battle, and it always flees when we turn to face it directly. He does not even accompany it. What's more, he has not retaken even a single acre of territory, nor has he sent his men to defend his allies. So, pray tell, Your Majesty… what makes you believe he shall do so for your kingdom?"

The king opened his mouth, then closed it and hissed furiously. "What if we surrender to you?" he snarled.

"If you throw down your arms, we shall leave you in peace," Telepe replied easily. "The only demand that we shall make is that your slaves must be freed and made full citizens. If they wish to join us in our campaign, they must be allowed to do so, as may any Ayleids that are so inclined. We shall also ensure that you are made part of a trade treaty that now encompasses much of Cyrod. You shall provide us a small fraction of your goods, and in exchange, be granted access to goods from all across Tamriel, that you would never enjoy otherwise. Beyond that, you shall be free to rule your kingdom as you wish." As the king hesitated, Telepe added, "You cannot deny that these are generous terms."

"A trade treaty?" the king scoffed. "You mean you will exact tribute."

"If we were demanding tribute, you would get nothing in return, save for our protection," Telepe replied patiently. "Instead, you are being made part of a sprawling trade network that shall ensure your kingdom flourishes, and which more than makes up for the loss of your slaves. Rest assured, you shall benefit from this offer."

"Hmph. And I presume that if we refuse, you shall raze my kingdom to the ground?" the king asked snarled.

"If necessary," Telepe replied simply. "We would prefer not to pointlessly waste lives, however."

The king stared at him coldly for several long moments, weighing the offer, while Telepe stared at him with his hands folded behind his back, just under his cloak. At last, the king sighed and lowered his crowned head in defeat. "Very well," he muttered. "You shall have our submission."

"Cooperation," Telepe replied calmly as he held up a scroll for the king – he had already prepared a copy of the treaty in anticipation of the king's agreement.

The king snapped his head up and glared at Telepe furiously. "Submission," he repeated coldly.

Telepe gazed at the king silently for a moment, suppressing a smile. He knew why the king was insisting upon calling the integration of his city "submission" – it implied the possibility of staging an uprising against an unjust occupation. Unfortunately for the king, however, Telepe intended to do everything in his power to ensure he never had that chance. Between freeing the human slaves that outnumbered his Ayleid subjects, and providing the elves with exotic luxuries that they had never enjoyed before, he intended to ensure that man and mer alike were so pleased with the new regime that they had no interest in rebelling. Once assimilated, Nenyond Twyll would be a permanent fixture in the rebels' territory, if Telepe had anything to say about it.

After their meeting concluded and the king had placed his seal on the treaty, he returned to the camp and handed the scroll off to a messenger to deliver to Perrif. As he wandered back to his tent, he belatedly realized that he should be pleased that he had finally earned his first diplomatic victory in quite some time. The thought almost made him laugh bitterly as he ran his hand over his burning eyes. Such triumphs seemed almost petty now. He was pleased that he had secured Nenyond Twyll's cooperation, but he realized that he didn't care if he negotiated the city's surrender, or if someone else did. All that mattered was that they win the war, no matter who contributed, or how.

The morning after Nenyond Twyll capitulated, the army set off again, traveling northeast through the jungle. They had decided to ignore the city of Vindasel for now, as it was fiercely loyal to Umaril and would be difficult to capture. Instead, Morihaus had proposed that they launch a sneak attack through the jungle to capture Perrif's homeland – the Kingdom of Sard.

It was already mid-spring, and rain was starting to fall freely in the jungle again. Thankfully, it was not as torrential as the deluges they could expect in the summer, so their progress wasn't significantly slowed. If anything, the moderate rains helped to mask their progress through the trees, as the water quickly washed away their muddy footprints, and the fog and low clouds provided additional cover as they made their way through the forest. Some of the more religious among them claimed that Kyne was favoring them with her blessings. For his part, Telepe still wasn't certain if it was divine intervention, but he had learned by now not to voice those thoughts aloud, in case he was wrong. He didn't need to draw the ire of more divine beings.

Morihaus avoided the main road for as long as he could, but eventually, their path forced them towards the highway. By mid-morning, about a week after they had left Nenyond Twyll, he called the column to a halt, roughly a quarter-mile away from the road. He then sent his scouts ahead to make sure that the road was clear of any merchants. He had devised a complicated plan, where he would send his army ahead one century at a time, to minimize their chances of being discovered. He intended to pass by a nearby cave, which was situated between a small lake and a tributary of the massive Lake Rumare. The rest of the army waited nervously for the scouts to return, but when they did, they seemed baffled by something.

"Lady Paravant?" Pasare asked hesitantly as she approached Perrif. "While we were passing by the cave, we encountered someone who claims to know you. They wish to speak with you, if you are willing to meet with them."

Perrif seemed surprised and confused, but she simply nodded and motioned for Pasare to lead the way. She was accompanied by Pelinal and Morihaus, as well as her guards, while Telepe and Tari followed some distance behind, in case she needed either diplomatic or magical aid.

When they approached the mouth of the cave, they saw that a low fire was burning in front of it. A balding, elderly man wearing little more than a short, brown kilt sat placidly in front of a fire, which had a small, copper cauldron bubbling over it. When they approached, he looked up and smiled warmly before inclining his head at them.

"Good day, girl," he said, staring directly at Perrif as he spoke. "You've made quite a name for yourself since we last saw each other, haven't you?"

Perrif's eyes widened with surprise, and then a delighted smile spread across her face. "Zuathas?!" she cried. Before anyone could react, she suddenly flung herself into the arms of the old man, who laughed and clasped her to him, looking much like a grandfather happily embracing a favored granddaughter.

"I presume that you two are familiar with each other?" Pelinal growled. Telepe noticed that he was resting his hand on his sword… and gripping the hilt so tightly that Telepe was surprised the metal wasn't bending in his grasp.

Perrif beamed at the old man before pulling back and nodding. "Forgive me. This is Zuathas, a healer who hails from Sard, as I did. He is called 'The Clever-Cutting Man,' and is the most skilled healer in the kingdom. Whenever one of us fell ill, he would tend to us, and he could even use his blade to improve our features, removing blemishes and marks, and making us even more comely. Even the Ayleids respect his skill, as his bladework made us more valuable in the slave markets, which is why he was one of the few honored with a name."

"Zuathas… is that not a keptu name?" Telepe asked slowly, frowning faintly. "Are you keptu yourself?"

"No, I am a Nede," Zuathas replied with a shrug. "Our masters have a strange sense of humor, when the mood strikes them."

"In any case, we certainly did not expect to meet you here, but I'm pleased to see that you escaped!" Perrif smiled at Zuathas, releasing him to settle on her knees in front of him. Telepe was astonished – he had rarely seen Perrif so lively. She had dropped her usual poise and serenity, and seemed almost childlike at the moment. It was rather endearing to see her beaming with unrestrained joy.

Zuathas let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. "I'm afraid that you're mistaken, child," Zuathas replied calmly. "I did not escape from Sard."

Perrif's smile faded slightly, and she tilted her head quizzically. "But… how-?" she began.

"Simple. There was no need to escape," Zuathas explained, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "The slaves of Sard rose up against our oppressors and overthrew them, just a few weeks past. Sard is now a free city, in the hands of the Nedes."

Perrif's eyes widened. "Truly?" she murmured breathlessly.

Zuathas nodded. "They staged their own rebellion in your name. When your deeds reached the ears of the slaves here in the kingdom, many of us couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that one of our own sisters was fighting to free us from our oppression. That sense of pride soon turned to shame, and then anger. If you could stand against our masters, why couldn't we?

"Over the next few months, we began plotting our uprising. We secretly began collecting any weapons that we could – hair-cutting knives, cooking utensils, farming tools… whatever could be used to slay a mer. This was all done in absolute secrecy, for we knew that if we failed, we would all be put to death. We also began ingratiating ourselves even more with our Ayleid masters. We submitted to any whim, any humiliation they wished to inflict upon us, in order to gain their trust. At first, they were surprised, even suspicious of how eager we suddenly were to serve them. In time, though, they came to enjoy our slavering devotion, and they grew complacent.

"Finally, when the time was right, we struck as one against the nobility. All at once, we began assassinating our former masters – cutting their throats as we tended to their hair, drowning them as we helped them bathe, dragging them into the jungle while they were taking pleasant strolls without their guards. In a single morning, the entire noble caste of Sard was slain. Without leadership, the army was left directionless, and was thrown into a state of confusion, which gave us the opportunity we needed to defeat them. We then slew every Ayleid in the city, with only a few escaping. In just one day, we had taken Sard for ourselves and secured our own freedom. All thanks to your inspiration, child."

Telepe shot Perrif a sidelong glance from where he was standing about fifteen feet away. Even from where he was, he could see that she was conflicted. She seemed pleased that her homeland was free, but she also seemed disturbed. Perhaps the gruesome nature of Sard's assassinations troubled her… or perhaps it was the casual, even gleeful way that Zuathas recounted the events.

Zuathas paused as well, apparently noticing her discomfort. "In any case, the men of Sard are eagerly awaiting your arrival," the healer continued, pausing for a moment to take his small cauldron off the fire. "I suspect that they may even ask you to become their queen once you arrive."

Perrif exhaled softly, then smiled warmly at Zuathas and nodded. "Thank you for informing me," she said softly. "Though if what you say is true, I'm afraid that I must decline their offer. I cannot afford to oversee a single city-state when it is my duty to ensure that every realm in Cyrod is free."

Zuathas lifted the lid off of his cauldron and peered into its bubbling depths. Without looking up, he asked, "And once they are?"

Perrif hesitated, then looked away. Her hesitation surprised Telepe – he had assumed she already had plans for Cyrod once it was free. When she finally turned back around, she replied quietly, "We shall have to see once the war is over, won't we?"

Zuathas glanced up from the cauldron, then nodded. "I suppose we shall. In any case, would you like to join me for a meal? There's enough for us all to share," he added, sweeping his arm around at the rest of her companions.

"Your offer is generous, but we must be off," Perrif replied with a warm smile, bowing her head once again. "Time is of the essence, and we must reach Sard as soon as possible." She paused, then asked, "Will you join us?"

"I will not," Zuathas replied evenly, stirring the contents of his pot without looking up. When Perrif tilted her head at him, he explained, "Sard holds many memories for me, child. Most of them, I would rather forget." He looked up again and swept his arm around him with a smile. "Besides, now that I'm free, I intend to fully enjoy all that the wilds have to offer. I've spent most of my life surrounded by stone walls and bronze cages. This, my dear, is true freedom, and I have no desire to ever relinquish it." He then smiled warmly and added, "However, should you or any of your warriors find yourselves in need of healing, please seek me out. I shall treat you without asking for anything in return. It is the least I can do for granting me my own freedom, however indirectly."

Perrif opened her mouth, likely to protest, but then she seemed to think better of it and instead nodded to him. "Very well," she replied with a warm smile and a bow of her head. "I shall bear your offer in mind. It… was wonderful to see you again."

"You as well, child," Zuathas chuckled. "Please, do come visit. Preferably when the state of Cyrod is less dire."

Perrif smiled wistfully before nodding and drawing the older man into one final embrace. She then motioned for the others to accompany her as she led the way back to their army.

As they walked, Telepe wanted to ask her about her relationship with Zuathas, but he knew that approaching her would simply aggravate Meridia's curse, so he reluctantly restrained himself. Thankfully, Pasare asked, "My lady? Was that… your father?"

Perrif glanced at Pasare and smiled faintly. "You of all people should know that we rarely know who our true parents are, Pasare," she chided her gently. "But he was a mentor, and he often cared for me like I was his child. There were very few in Sard that I was closer to, and if there was anyone I could consider 'family,' he would certainly be one of the first who came to mind." She then turned and faced the small group following her, clasping her hands behind her back as she did. "Of course, now my family has become much larger," she added, glancing at each of them in turn.

Telepe swallowed, then glanced away as Perrif's eyes met his. "Then let's do all that we can to ensure that you don't lose any other members, shall we?" he murmured.

Perrif smiled faintly at him for a moment, her expression almost turning sad. "Well said," she agreed softly, before turning back around and leading them back to the army.

With Zuathas' assurance that Sard was now a free kingdom, Perrif ordered her army to make haste for the main road. It took them only a few hours to rejoin the highway, whereupon Perrif ordered them to travel at a quick march. Telepe was uncertain if she was eager to see her homeland again, or simply wished to reach a relatively safe location as soon as possible. Regardless, the swift pace and level road ensured that they were able to make excellent time.

The first sign that they were within Sard's territory came long before the city was in view. As they traveled east, a quartet of men and women emerged from the jungle with javelins in hand, though their weapons were not raised. Of course, four scouts would barely do any damage to an army of their size, but if they had been truly worried about the army, they would have fled rather than allow themselves to be discovered. Clearly, Telepe thought to himself, they were simply curious about the army, though he suspected that the Ayleids made them nervous.

Fortunately, the leader of the small scout group seemed to realize that an enemy army would not be marching with heavily armed humans at its head, and he requested to speak with their leader. Perrif approached the young man with a smile, whereupon his eyes widened with shock, and then amazement as it dawned on him who she was. He beamed as he approached her with his arms outstretched reverently, as though he was supplicating a goddess.

"My lady… welcome home," he whispered.

"Thank you. It is good to be home," Perrif replied gently, before chuckling and motioning to him. "Please, lower your hands."

"Ah… of course," the young man murmured, dropping his arms to his sides. His smile faded a moment later, however, as he added, "I wish that we could welcome you under happier circumstances, my lady, but I am afraid that your army has arrived not a moment too soon. Unfortunately, Sard's independence is quite precarious at the moment."

"What do you mean?" Perrif asked, her smile fading as she folded her hands in front of her.

"Will you allow us to escort you?" the young scout asked anxiously. "I would be happy to explain along the way."

Perrif nodded, and they set out once again to the east. As they traveled, the young man informed her that Sard was under siege. While the slaves were taking the city, a few Ayleids had managed to escape and flee to their boats, whereupon they sailed to the nearby White-Gold City. Apparently, they had relayed the news of the uprising to Umaril, and a few days later, a massive army of Ayleids and Daedra had marched on the city. Fortunately, they had managed to seal the gates, but the walls were weathering constant attacks from the furious besiegers.

"In truth, I'm uncertain how much longer we can hold," the scout murmured. "It's been three days since we left the city in search of allies, though we knew that it was likely futile. What kingdom would ally with us, after all? Especially this close to the White-Gold City." He then smiled almost adoringly at Perrif. "Your arrival is a godsend. It seems that you truly do work miracles wherever you travel."

"Give your thanks to the gods, not to me," Perrif replied modestly. "Perchance, does Umaril command the army besieging Sard?"

"We've seen no sign of him on the field, my lady, no," the scout replied. Beside Perrif, Pelinal let out a low, irritated growl, but said nothing. The scout glanced at him, then added, "This army seems to be commanded by one of the sorcerer-kings, though we don't know which one."

"Very well," Perrif said with a nod. "Would you please guide us the rest of the way to Sard?"

The scout straightened and nodded, then motioned for her to follow. Perrif and her companions fell into step behind him, with the rest of the army trailing her. The rest of the journey lasted a little less than an hour, by Telepe's reckoning, before Sard slowly came into view.

The city was surrounded by a roiling sea of bronze, and Telepe grimaced when he saw that there were already ladders resting against the walls. However, it seemed as though the defenders were managing to hold the city against the onslaught, despite the best efforts of the Ayleid attackers. Perrif stared grimly at the city in the distance, then turned to Morihaus, Vrage, and the allied Ayleid kings that had accompanied them.

"Please get the men into formation," she said stonily. "We must lift the siege immediately. While that is a sizable force, we clearly outnumber-"

"My lady!" the scout cried, interrupting her. "They're retreating!"

Telepe glanced past the scout towards the city. To his amazement, the attackers were indeed pulling back from the walls and fleeing east across a long stone bridge. Perrif stared at them silently, then folded her arms over her chest.

"Why…?" she murmured softly. "The rest of our army hasn't even arrived yet. If they attacked us now…."

"Perhaps they have orders not to face us directly," Pelinal suggested in a low growl, a bloodthirsty grin spreading across his lips. "Perhaps their commanders have finally gained a bit of wisdom from their constant defeats."

"No… look," Vrage said, pointing to the bridge. As they watched, the Ayleids on the bridge turned and began reforming their lines, raising their shields and lowering their spears. They then began to back slowly along the bridge in an orderly, disciplined manner. Once they were a few hundred feet back on the bridge, they began banging their shields with their spears and shouting, apparently taunting the rebels.

"Hmph," Morihaus snorted. "It seems that is the battlefield they've chosen."

"Indeed?" Perrif asked, frowning and folding her hands in front of herself. "How curious."

"Is that wise, or foolish?" Vrage mused, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he stared at the distant army. "I cannot see where the bridge ends. How long is it?"

"Over a mile," Perrif replied. "It was built long ago by the ancient Ayleids. It spans the width of the Niben River at one of its narrowest points, allowing merchants to cross over it on foot without awaiting a ferry."

"And they intend to face us on the bridge itself?" Edanu asked, raising an eyebrow. "That… may not be a poor strategy, in truth."

"It is foolish," Morihaus stated firmly with a shake of his huge, horned head. "Our phalanx is strongest from the front, and the sides of the bridge will prevent us from being flanked."

"Yes, but the phalanx also heavily relies upon turning the opponent's flank," Dynar countered thoughtfully. "This bridge also reduces the amount of spears that we can bring to bear. In a head-to-head battle of spear wall against spear wall, it becomes a simple question of who can outlast their enemy. Perhaps my kin feel that they can best us in a simple contest of strength. Furthermore, since their archers are superior to ours, they may try to position their bowmen behind their spearmen and rain arrows upon us with little fear of retribution."

"An intriguing strategy," Perrif murmured thoughtfully. "It concerns me that they seem to have prepared for us. If possible, I would rather not fight our enemies on their terms. However, we must continue moving around the highway if we wish to obtain the Staff of Magnus before the eclipse. We cannot afford to be stopped here." She turned back to her generals and sighed. "What are our options?"

"Aside from simply pushing forward and taking the bridge?" Edanu asked. "We cannot besiege them, I believe. They can continue supplying their men with supplies from the eastern cities that we have not yet taken, and it will be days before we can send a message to our own allies." He frowned, then added, "What about fording the river and avoiding the bridge altogether?"

"Unfortunately, we cannot," said a voice from nearby. The others turned to look at one of the scouts that had been with the party that had escorted the army to Sard. "Ayleid ships from the White-Gold City and the other nearby kingdoms on the Niben have been blockading the waters under bridge for days now. They completely control the river."

Perrif let out a soft sigh and nodded in thanks to the scout, then turned back to her advisors. "Then it seems we must meet them in battle."

"Could they destroy the bridge while we're crossing it?" Telepe asked uneasily. "What if they're attempting to bait us into pursuing them before demolishing the bridge while our army is halfway across?"

"That would be a terrifying prospect," Perrif admitted. "But I don't believe so. The bridge is of vital importance to trade, and it has been enchanted and magically reinforced with so many wards that it would take the concerted efforts of dozens of mages to even damage it. I imagine that all of King Vrage's Tongues could unleash their most powerful Shouts at it for days and it would not suffer so much as a crack."

"That's reassuring, at least," Edanu murmured. "Even so, I don't relish the prospect of facing our enemies directly, especially when they must simply repel us, while we must rout them."

"What is there to consider?!" Pelinal exclaimed incredulously. "If our enemies desire battle, then I say we grant their wish! If you all are too frightened to face them directly, then I shall fight them alone!" He grinned viciously. "If they believe they have lain a trap for us, then we should show them that one should not attempt to ensnare a tiger with a spiderweb."

Perrif and Morihaus traded uneasy looks, and then Perrif sighed. "It seems as though we have little choice in the matter," she murmured. "However, I do not wish to solely engage our enemies in a frontal charge. Morihaus, Edanu," she added, turning to the general and the legate. "I would like for you to select men to march south and assault the southern city-states. If we cannot best Umaril's allies at sea, we might take them by land. That might convince our enemies to pull their ships back, which will give us an opening to cross the river. I would like your recommendations for a leader for this campaign."

Edanu and Morihaus traded brief looks, and then Edanu slowly smiled. "I can think of one," he replied easily. "Centurion Teo has proven himself a clever, able commander. This sort of raid would be perfect for him and his men. Send him south, and I've little doubt he shall swiftly conquer our enemies. Though… in truth, I don't know if he'll succeed before we've taken this bridge."

"Even if he does not, control of the northern Niben is vital, and we can't have our enemies striking at our backs after we've taken the bridge and moved on. We would need to eventually assign someone to this task anyways. See to it," Perrif said shortly.

"As you say," Edanu replied with a bow of his head, before turning to find his centurion.

"In the meantime, Morihaus, I would hear your thoughts on how we might take this bridge," she continued, turning to her general.

Morihaus let out a low snort and turned back to the bridge with his arms folded over his chest. "As I stated, our hoplites are well-suited for a frontal assault like this," he muttered, tapping his fingers against his enormous biceps. "As for support… I concur with Prince Dynar. While we have some skilled archers, on the whole, our bowmen are inferior to the Ayleids'. Even though we have allied with a few Ayleid kingdoms, their I fear their numbers may be insufficient to match our enemies."

"Then what do you suggest?" Perrif asked patiently.

Morihaus was silent for a few long moments, then slowly replied, "Let us rely upon the Tongues and the battlemages. If this bridge is as sturdy as you claim, then there is no reason not to allow them to unleash their full might. Our foes may have more magic-users, but I believe the quality of our mages matches theirs, if not surpasses them. If we rain flame and thunder upon them while our infantry attacks, that should disrupt their formation enough to allow us to take the bridge."

Perrif hesitated for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "That should suffice," she said slowly. "I presume that Pelinal shall lead this charge?"

"Naturally. My uncle would be furious if he didn't," Morihaus pointed out with a chuckle.

"Naturally," Perrif agreed. "Though I shall remind him that he cannot drown himself in madness. Speaking of…." She turned to Telepe and asked, "Do you believe there is any chance that we might resolve this with a duel?"

Telepe glanced away just before his eyes began to burn. "I doubt it," he said with a shake of his head. "If they feel that holding the bridge gives them a favorable position, then it's unlikely they'll jeopardize that by accepting an offer of a duel. Especially since I've little doubt that they're quite familiar with Whitestrake's prowess as a duelist by now," he added drily. "Now, if you still wish for me to approach them…."

"No. If they're expecting a battle, then they'll likely attack you if you approach, and there's no reason to endanger you over something with such a small chance of success," Perrif replied with a sigh.

"Shall I assemble the warriors, then, my lady?" Morihaus asked in a low voice.

"If you would," she nodded reluctantly. "Deploy them as you see fit."

"Very well. Edanu!" he added, turning to the legate, who had just returned from giving Teo his orders. "Bring your finest hoplites to the front. We shall array them by century and advance down the center of the bridge. Keep the battlemages in reserve and order them to attack the enemy from the banks of the river."

"Won't that endanger our men, general?" Edanu frowned. "An errant flame spell or lightning bolt…."

"Tell them to only cast at what they can see," Morihaus clarified. "Furthermore, bring our Ayleid archers up behind the spearmen, and ensure that they are protected by men equipped with shields. Have them loose arrows when they can, and when the enemy returns fire, order your spearmen to protect them with their shields."

"And the knights?" Edanu asked.

Morihaus snorted thoughtfully. "They'll be of little use if they cannot use their horses. However, they'll still make excellent shock troops. Commit the bulk of your infantry to taking the bridge, and keep the knights and the Nordic berserkers in reserve for a final charge once we've worn down our enemy. Any questions?"

"Not one," Edanu replied.

Morihaus nodded, satisfied with his response. "Very good, legate. I shall be observing the battle from the air, and I shall give new orders as the battle develops. Take care of your men, and may the Divines watch over you."

"You as well, General," Edanu replied with a bow.

Telepe exhaled softly as Tari came up beside him and nudged him with her shoulder. "I suppose I'll be with the mages for this battle. Will you be joining us as well?" she asked softly.

"I suppose I could, though I'm not sure how much help I would be," Telepe admitted. "It's not as though I know many offensive spells." He then smiled sardonically and held out his hand, conjuring a small ball of flame, which didn't flicker high even to even clear his fingertips. "Perhaps I can frighten them with this. Behold! A torch! Run in fear, Ayleid cowards!"

Tari laughed and nudged him again. "Then you can stay here and watch while we're risking our lives," she teased him.

"Yes, because gods know that I haven't done my share of baring my neck to our enemies," Telepe replied drily.

Tari smirked at him, then pulled him into a quick embrace. "Keep safe," she said softly.

"You as well," Telepe replied, resting his hand on top of her head. "Watch for stray arrows."

"A fair point," Tari admitted. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, then hurried off to join the mages – largely Ayleid, but some humans – assembling on the southern side of the bridge.

"Telepe. Join me," Perrif said, walking over to him and putting her hand on his shoulder. Telepe winced as the heat flared up inside of him, and he glanced at her briefly as she added, "You won't be much use if you're not riding Emero, and I don't want you in the phalanx, so it's best if you join my guard."

Telepe blinked in surprise, but then nodded. "That, I can do," he agreed. So long as I avoid looking directly at you, he added bitterly inside his head.

Perrif smiled briefly at him, then motioned for him to follow her over to where a score of warriors were waiting for her. She led the way to the top of a small hill, which gave them a good view of most of the surrounding area, allowing them to see all the way to the opposite riverbank. From their position, Telepe could just make out the opposing Ayleid army, arrayed in a deep shield wall at roughly the midpoint the bridge, supported by scores of archers behind them.

"This truly will be a test of will, and little else," Telepe remarked quietly.

"Indeed," Perrif said slowly, frowning as she ran her hand over her chin. "Perhaps we should allow the Nords to Shout across the bridge first. Morihaus!" she yelled.

Her general, who was busy arranging the men, turned and flew to her when he heard her yell. They had a short, low conversation, and then Morihaus bowed his head. Moments later, he lumbered over to Vrage and spoke with him. Telepe could see a grin spread across the king's face from where they were, and he in turn called over a trio of his Tongues.

As the hoplites were arranging themselves, the Tongues stepped onto the bridge and stood shoulder-to-shoulder, facing the Ayleid army just out of range of their arrows. They smirked at each other briefly, then inhaled sharply at the same time.

"FUS-!" they began, but before they could continue their Shouts, green bolts of light suddenly erupted from the Ayleid ranks. They struck the Nords in the chest, and their voices died in their throats. Telepe's mouth fell open as the Tongues struggled to speak, but as they did, more green bolts impacted the ground around them, muting all sound in a small radius from where they struck. The Nords tried vainly to Shout, or even speak with each other, but to no avail.

"Silencing spells," Telepe murmured. Perrif turned to him, then scowled.

"Then we must rely our battlemages," she said softly. "We'll simply have them cast outside of the areas that have been silenced."

She motioned to her mage commanders, who nodded and shouted at their mages. Telepe watched Tari grin as she readied a lightning spell, which crackled and jumped against her fingers. A moment later, the mages unleashed their spells simultaneously, and bolts of flame and lightning streaked towards the Ayleids on the bridge. However, the spells seemed to dissipate just before they struck the elves on the bridge, diffusing around an invisible barrier.

"What…?!" Perrif whispered in disbelief.

"I've seen Moralasil use a similar spell," Telepe explained quickly, trying to keep his own anxiety out of his voice. "It seems they've been preparing for this."

"Quite," Perrif murmured, touching her chin with her thumb and forefinger. "I fear that we've been drawn into a trap."

"Should we pull back, then?" Telepe suggested.

Perrif shook her head. "No. This is concerning. Until now, our enemies have always fought offensive battles against us, yet now they're simply holding their position. It's as if they're trying to halt our advance, nothing more. That makes me worry that Umaril knows of our pursuit of the Staff of Magnus. I fear that if we do not engage them, they'll be content to hold this bridge until they can retrieve the Staff themselves. We don't have time to wait them out. We must defeat them here and press on." Telepe sighed, then grimly nodded as Perrif turned back to Morihaus and shouted, "General! Order our warriors to take the bridge!"

"As you command, my lady!" Morihaus bellowed back, and then he turned to his men. "Hoplites! Follow the commands of Legate Edanu! Forward!"

"Forward!" Telepe heard Edanu echo, and then his centurions answered in kind. Slowly, the squares of hoplites began marching onto the bridge, stretching themselves from one edge to the other. They lowered their spears as one and raised their shields as they edged out onto the grey stone, steadily advancing on the Ayleids in the distance.

Halfway across the bridge, Telepe could just see the Ayleid archers drawing their bows back and pointing them at the sky. As they loosed their arrows, Edanu shouted for his men to take cover. Dozens of shields went up, and the bronze tips of the arrows clattered loudly as they struck the metal faces of the shields and the warriors' heavy bronze armor. Telepe winced as he heard one or two screams of pain, but most of the men seemed to have only been slightly bothered by the volley of bird-beak shaped points.

"Whitestrake!" Edanu shouted, and Telepe could see the lead figure turning his head to look over his shoulder. "If you would?!"

Telepe heard a wild cackle answer Edanu's request, and a silver-white form sprinted out from the bronze ranks of the hoplites. As Pelinal charged the enemy lines, a pair of purple-black portals opened in front of him, and a golden suit of armor and a red-skinned Dremora stepped forward to meet Pelinal's charge. Before they had fully emerged from the portals, Pelinal pummeled the Dremora across the chest with his mace, knocking the wind out of it, then turned and simply shoved the Auroran over the side of the bridge into the water below. He then turned back to the Dremora and smashed its face with his shield, then swung his mace around in a short arc, which caught the Daedra in the side of the head. It crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and a moment later, its body vanished in a flash of violet flames.

The interruption had barely interrupted Pelinal's charge, and he let out a bloodthirsty scream of delight as he threw himself into the Ayleid ranks, slashing and swinging wildly. The elves vainly thrusted at him with blades and spears, but every blow slid off of his armor, and Telepe wondered if he even felt their attacks.

"Infantry! Charge!" Edanu roared, and the men screamed in unison as they lowered their spears and ran at the Ayleid ranks. Pelinal fell back slightly and joined the shield wall as the two sides began thrusting furiously at each other, spears clanging off of shields and blades sliding off of armor to find bits of flesh.

Telepe watched as Perrif settled onto the ground, and he raised an eyebrow at her as she motioned for him to sit beside her. "Come," she said softly. "I know you cannot sleep, but you must be exhausted. You should preserve your strength however you can."

Telepe hesitated, feeling uncomfortable about relaxing while their men were fighting for their lives only hundreds of feet away. However, when he felt Perrif's gaze boring into him, he reluctantly took a seat on the grass beside her, positioning himself about fifteen feet away from her with his back to her so that he wouldn't feel the searing heat of Meridia's curse. As he did, he kept his eyes on the battle.

Unfortunately, the fight was rather tedious for those that were not involved in it. There were no tactics, no clever stratagems… nothing but a simple contest of strength and will. Over the next hour and a half, each side would gain and lose a few feet of ground, but neither was able to decisively force the other back. Morihaus, who was hovering well out of the range of the Ayleid arrows, would periodically call up reserves, rotating his men in and out to conserve as much of their stamina as possible.

As the morning dragged into the afternoon, Telepe found himself simultaneously grappling with anxiety and boredom. He knew the latter emotion was especially disrespectful to the warriors fighting and dying to break the Ayleid lines, but since he was not personally involved in the battle, all he could do was watch and wait, which was far more difficult than he had realized. He had participated in several battles throughout the war, so being reduced to the role of an observer was particularly frustrating for him. He suddenly found himself sympathizing with Perrif's earlier insistence on fighting alongside her men.

"Why haven't they broken the lines yet?" Telepe murmured with a frown. When he felt Perrif looking at him, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and added, "Or, more specifically, why hasn't Pelinal managed to push deeper into their ranks?"

Perrif shook her head. "I keep seeing Daedra being summoned periodically in the Ayleid lines. He's slaying them as they appear, but with so little room to maneuver, he can only do so much. I imagine that, since he cannot rely on his madness, he is instead focusing upon protecting our warriors as much as he can."

Telepe bit the inside of his cheek. "While I'm pleased that he's restraining himself, perhaps it would be wiser to call the men back and let him fight a bit more freely?" he suggested. "He shouldn't succumb to madness, but if the men are hindering his efforts…."

Perrif shook her head. "I trust our men as much as I trust him," she said firmly. "We must be patient."

Telepe nodded reluctantly and leaned forward. "Still, I wonder if I should have at least tried to push for a duel," he murmured, watching as the rebel archers unleashed a volley of arrows at the Ayleids. "Perhaps I might have succeeded."

"Perhaps. But I concur with what you said before the battle began," Perrif replied as they watched the Ayleids answer the volley of arrows with one of their own. "If-"

Before she could finish that statement, shouts of despair and horror echoed from the front ranks of their lines as the arrows rained down on the men. Telepe and Perrif both edged forward, straining their ears, and eventually they heard: "-dead! The legate has been shot dead! Edanu has been slain!"

Telepe inhaled sharply, his blood turning cold. He sat forward, clenching his hands together tightly enough that his fingers began to turn white. Denial immediately flashed through his mind. Perhaps the men were mistaken. Perhaps Edanu was simply wounded! He couldn't believe – didn't want to believe – that the legate, his friend, was dead.

All at once, the ranks erupted into chaos. "Retrieve his body and remove it from the field!" a voice shouted.

"Don't risk your lives for his body! Push on!" another shouted.

"Who is in command?!" another demanded.

"I am! We need to fall back and regroup!" came another yell.

"No! Push on!" someone else bellowed. "We've almost broken them! Forward!"

In the confusion, the rebel lines began to waver, as men tried to push their way past each other, either to force their way off the bridge or to work their way forward to close the gaps that their fleeing comrades were leaving. Pelinal turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a roar of fury.

"Cowards!" he shouted, his voice echoing above the din of battle. "Reform your lines! Do not dare quit the field!"

At the same time, Morihaus flew closer, his own booming voice matching Pelinal's. "Orina, your lines are collapsing! Rally your men!" he shouted as he hovered over the wavering Nedic lines, his head turning back and forth as he tried to take control and restore some semblance of order. "Laniu, lower your spears-!"

As Morihaus was shouting, the Ayleid commander directing the battle roared, "Loose!" A cloud of arrows streaked through the air, arcing upwards… and then slammed into Morihaus.

Fortunately for the man-bull, his ebony armor and thick helmet protected him from the worst of the damage. The arrows bounced harmlessly off his heavy cuirass, and none were able to penetrate his thick skull. However, the rest bit into his unprotected arms, legs, and wings. The minotaur stiffened in midair as he let out a bellow of agony, and then he plummeted.

"Morihaus!" Perrif screamed, springing to her feet as the general fell out of sight. Telepe's heart hammered as he pushed himself up and stood on his toes, trying to see where his body had landed. For a few tense moments, he feared that Morihaus had plunged into the river, until he saw a large, dark figure resting on top of a sea of bronze – the general's limp body, sprawled out on top of the Nedic warriors.

"Move!" Pelinal barked, and a moment later, Morihaus' body was pulled down from the Nedes' shields. The warriors were then forcibly shoved aside as Pelinal carried Morihaus off of the bridge, with some of the men being pushed over the sides in Pelinal's haste to drag his nephew away from the battle.

"Retreat!" someone cried, and this time, the order was echoed by the other centurions. The Nedes began to back off of the bridge, with the front ranks at least maintaining enough cohesion to ward off the Ayleids from pursuing them, keeping their spears lowered and jabbing at any elves who dared venture too close. The Ayleids allowed them to pull back, their cheers and mocking taunts following the men as the last of them stepped off of the bridge. The centurions screamed for their men to form back up, and while the men instinctively obeyed the command, they moved as though their legs were made of lead. Most seemed to be in a state of shock at their defeat, and at the loss of their leaders.

Telepe tore his eyes away from the men as Pelinal sprinted towards Perrif, holding Morihaus' huge body across his arms. Perrif hurried over to him, tears streaking down her face as she examined his unconscious form. Over a dozen arrows had pierced his hide, jutting out from his arms, legs, and wings, with thick, dark blood matting his fur. Worst of all, Telepe noticed that one of the bolts had pierced his throat, though fortunately, it had only clipped the side of his neck. A few more inches to the left and it could have pierced his trachea.

"Healer!" Pelinal bellowed, his wide, blue eyes twitching wildly. Telepe suspected that he was on the verge of madness, and only his worry over Morihaus' condition was keeping him sane. Tari hurried over to examine him, grimacing as she did. "Mend him!" the knight demanded.

"I… I cannot," Tari murmured, flinching when Pelinal snarled at her. "This is beyond my skill! I can tend to minor wounds, certainly, but this...!"

"If he dies, I shall have your head!" Pelinal bellowed. Tari winced and pulled her hands off of Morihaus' body, backing away from him quickly.

"Pelinal! Enough!" Perrif snapped. Pelinal rounded on her, but then stopped as he saw the tears running down her face. "This… this will not save him. We must… find another way to…."

Perrif turned away, covering her mouth with her hand. As she did, she turned towards Telepe, and their eyes met. For a brief moment, he glimpsed Perrif's true self. In this moment, she was not a wise, serene prophetess, destined to save Cyrod from the tyranny of the Ayleid slavemasters. She was simply a distraught woman, terrified for the life of the man she loved. That was when Telepe realized – even she could not be eternally calm and poised, especially when her loved ones were in danger. Right then, she was in no state to make a rational decision. She needed the help of someone she could trust, someone with a clear head, and the wisdom to properly advise her. She needed him to suggest what they should do.

"What about Zuathas?" Telepe asked, in as calm a voice as he could manage. Perrif lowered her hand as she looked up at him, her eyes still watering. "You claimed that he was the most skilled healer in Sard, yes? That he can perform miracles with a blade? He could tend to Morihaus, couldn't he?"

Perrif looked away for a moment, considering, and then she murmured, "He might… but he's so far from here. Morihaus is too large for a horse, and if we move him, he may…." Her voice trailed off, and then she added, "And I cannot abandon the men now, not when we've suffered such a humiliating defeat!"

"There is no one here who can treat Morihaus," Telepe pointed out in a steady voice. "If he remains here, he will perish. And Zuathas is not that far. If Morihaus is too large for a horse, take him in a wagon. As for the men…." He paused, considering, then continued, "King Vrage, Prince Dynar… there are other leaders who can maintain order while you're away for a short while. The Ayleids also have no interest in pursuing us; as you said, they're content to hold the bridge. You have time to see to Morihaus' wounds. What's more, we've already lost Edanu. It shall be far more devastating to the men if we lose Morihaus as well." He reached out and put his hands on Perrif's shoulders, encouraging her to look up at him, despite the searing pain behind his eyes. "Take him to Zuathas, and once he has been tended to, return here."

Perrif opened her mouth to protest, then paused and looked away. "Are you certain?" she whispered.

Telepe smiled gently and let go of her. "Trust your men," he said firmly. "They can wait a bit while you heal their general."

Perrif swallowed hard, then took a shuddering breath and nodded, "Very well. Let's ready a wagon-"

"A wagon shall take too long," Pelinal growled, hoisting Morihaus higher onto his back. "I shall take him to Zuathas myself. My lady, take my horse and follow me."

Perrif hesitated, then nodded and looked up to see that one of her guards was already holding Pelinal's white stallion by the reins, as though he had expected Pelinal to ask for it instead. As she climbed onto its back, she paused and glanced down at Telepe. "Thank you," she said softly, smiling weakly at him as her sky-blue eyes brimmed with yet more tears.

Telepe inclined his head, then waved her off with one hand. "You're wasting time. Go!" he insisted.

Perrif nodded and wheeled the horse around to follow Pelinal as he took off at a run. As their retreating figures steadily grew smaller, Tari sidled up beside Telepe and squeezed his arm.

"Well done," she said softly.

Telepe shook his head. "Convincing her to tend to Morihaus' wounds was easy," he murmured grimly as he turned back towards the army. Only a few guards were watching the bridge, while the rest were milling about or sitting on the ground, staring blankly at the damp grass. A couple of the centurions were shouting at each other, while the Nords fumed near the eastern side of the camp, and their Ayleid allies stared at the Nords and Nedes while whispering conspiratorially to each other. "Tending to this wound, I fear, will be far more difficult."