The stallion's hooves dug into the mud with an easy pounce, carrying me deeper into the heart of enemy territory. Days had passed in a blur, our anticipation of battle fueling our every move. Karmadin had been confident that our previous victory had weakened the enemy, and now was the time to strike again.

The Houses of the North had rallied behind him, and our army had grown to an impressive two hundred thousand strong. Karmadin himself would lead the crusade, driven by his ambition and cunning. But I knew that this war was far from won. The road to Amlyxone was a desperate one, with many fortresses along its border already fallen.

At Jerkonyl, North of Amlyxone, we made our final camp. By Karmadin's orders, we raided the lands and took them. But the Prince had given strict orders that none be taken prisoner, and only those who resisted should fall. We had followed his orders wholly.

News of our advancement had reached King Hadero, and he responded quickly, mobilizing his host to stop us from driving deeper. His army had come out to face us at the Valley Goor, and this was where our patience was tested by their formidability.

Their army was no inferior to ours, and I knew that this battle would be no easy victory. Our giant catapults roared to life, launching their turbulent ball masses high into the sky. The devastating sweep spoke well of the cruelty of the war engines and the industriousness of their makers.

Karmadin had anticipated this moment, and his guile had paid off. King Hadero had underestimated his brother's ambition, and now we were reaping the rewards of Karmadin's proactive mind.

Victory seemed within our grasp, but I knew that it would come at a steep price. The stretch of blood-dented blade across my face almost catching my orbs yanked back my consciousness with a shiver. I thrust my dagger into the assailant's throat, sending the perfect response.

But with one man dead, I found myself surrounded by tens of desperate enemies. It was the strangeness of such kind of war – when nested amidst foes, death was always lurking. Drawing my blade back from the groins of the death-slip-ping man, I braced to evade the feeble attempt of another infantry enemy.

Yanking off his lance from his grip, I thrust my sword in descent. With the quick maneuverability of my beast, I made view of more charging foes. The single hurtle of the lance in my hand claimed no less than two men. From my right, my sword held up steady thrust.

Blood splattered upon my face and body like it were a shower...the sight of gore rather enticed me. Driven already deep into the enemy's line, I descended from my beast and chased after my glory.

As I rode through the battlefield, my blades still trembling with the force of my strikes, I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. The enemy's forces had been too easily defeated, too quickly routed. It was as if they had been waiting for us, had been expecting us to attack.

"Captain, they are pulling back," Pedrel called to me, while I mounted back my beast. "We would show them no mercy. No mercy! Pursue!"

I turned to him with darkened gaze, while I rested back upon the back of my beast to behold the calamity I had joined mighty hands to wrought. The land held it all. Blood. Scattered flesh. Bones torn from doomed victims. Heads rolled off from upon shoulders, amidst the thick smoke of the rumbling artilleries. All of it in harmony with the filthy earth.

But my worry came strong with the approaching victory. Goor might have been a win, but it was certainly not for me, for my arch enemy laid absent the lands. My efforts had been for nothing. All that killing. All that strive. All of it...and for disappointment. Dakor was not in this war, as the last.

My body ached from the hours of fighting. My pale hands were rusted red and the stench of death clung to me like a cloak. All the death, and for what? A single woman! Still, all deaths dealt on that field, I still dared consider nothing but a means to an end. Thoughts of Dakor and what I might have done to him had we face off still plagued my soul.

A thought struck me bitterly. It was first the sheer feeling of doubt. A strange feeling that this war of ours came to us rather too easy -- much easier than we had anticipated!

As I watched the fields being plundered of our men, a slight debate ensued within my mind. With the supposition flying unresolved in my head, the true consciousness dawned on me that something was verily wrong. It was a meaningless hunch, still a torturing one.

Jerkonyl was a small town to die for, but too many soldiers had been guided down that path. If sacrificing hundreds of men at this Valley was nothing but a snare luring us to our defeat, what then were our enemies' true plan?

But this certainly wasn't all to Amylyxone's forces. All the thoughts roaming my mind stung bitterly. Agitated by the conception of these facts, I felt it yet to be the only rational reason why we had broken the mighty Amylxone forces -- and so easily at that.

"This is not all the troop!" I proclaimed worriedly, as I rode to where Karmadin was with his sons and few officers. "This is not all the troops."

Their glances held refute for my assumption. "Of course it isn't," Commander Girod smiled. "Perhaps today is just to test our strength. More men would come for their deaths soon. Be patient, young blood."

But I knew that King Hadero was no fool. He would not play war like it were a game. Too many men died on this ground. I fought these men before, so I know that all the knowledge they have on warfare is to win.

"We defeated the enemies too easily," I explained. "For a kingdom known to be fierce, their army and efforts were feeble."

Karmadin's eyes narrowed, his face darkening. "What are you saying, Dorack?"

"Dorack is right!" Jeron broke in. "Something is wrong, father." His eyes were filled with terror. "This battle was too easy."

"Call back the men to line," Karmadin turned agitatedly to his commander.

While they made efforts, we contemplated what may be the snare the enemies had set. "Another wave of army might have laid hidden somewhere," Prince Brone spoke. "Perhaps waiting for us to be exhausted both in strength and ammunition."

As I watched the plundering men fall back to formation, my mind danced unrestrainedly. Dakor. The thought of that vile man slammed my existence. He wasn't in this war too. This was his war! The man I had combated last at The Unending Night would do anything for the trophy.

"What if he really is doing something?" I thought to myself.

"If the enemies are not on this ground, it's because perhaps they are tending to another," Karmadin said, his eyes flashing with horror. "Blue Clover Keep." He declared finally.

His words brought treacherous verity. But it fixed the puzzle. How else could we have defeated the enemies so easily had they not used this battle as a mere decoy? And where else would Dakor rather be except striving to claim his prize?

"No!" I bristled. Dread enveloped me like a cloak. I didn't wait a moment. I charged on my beast, striking its flanks hardly.

Whether here or there, I didn't care anymore where the enemies would come from. My place was always to be beside my wife...now she needed me most.

A/N: Hello friends, thanks for stopping by to check out this book. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

What do you think really is Amylxone' plot? What do you think is at stake for Keiya?

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