Balar crashed into Taverous, dropping him to the ground. He followed with a downward swipe of his staff. Taverous pulled his sword from its scabbard, barely deflecting the attack. The contact of the magical weapons exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors and rattled the courtyard.

Taverous' sword blazed with vigor previously unseen to the Merkadians. Balar's staff twisted in his hands, as he tried to overcome the sword's strength.

Taverous kicked out and caught Balar in the side, giving him the chance he needed to regain his feet. He whipped his hand around and hurled a bolt of energy at his brother. Balar swatted it away with ease. Taverous let go of his sword, holding it in the air with his mind, and, with both hands-free, unleashed a flurry of bolts. He took a step forward with each thrust, and, equally, Balar had to take a step back with each block.

Taverous moved his older brother closer and closer to the wall.

Balar recognized his situation and, upon reaching the wall, put up a stronger shield that encapsulated his body. He jumped and kicked off the wall, sending him flying into the air, high over the Keep's walls.

Taverous turned his gaze to watch him escape.

He waited a moment to follow and scanned the scene below. The Merkadians and Talurians were holding their own, but, at the current rate, the undead would be defeated at the same time the remaining troops of both armies were decimated.

He looked for the Staffwielders.

The common soldiers didn't have much of a chance against them. He spotted a group holding a circular formation twenty yards off. With the same attack he had just used against Balar, he rained down a volley of bolts upon them. They deflected a few but were soon overcome to a brutal end.

The troops who saw cheered.

He noticed the Druid also nodded his thanks before moving on to his next target. Taverous smiled. He liked that man. With a thought, he lifted into the air and flew after his brother.

* * *

Kaillum reeled his sword through the air, catching three undead across their throats. With a howl, he kicked their gurgling bodies to the ground. They had to be making some headway, but he dared not stop and look. A soldier was cut down in front of him, and now in his path stood one of the massive, six-armed creatures. It snarled at him and lowered his head to charge. Kaillum gripped his sword and shield, bracing for impact.

It never came.

A glowing spear flew through the air impaling the monster's head. It was thrown with so much strength, that the blow launched the creature to its side taking a few other undead to the ground. Arclite appeared a second behind, pulling his swords from his back, and finished his victims before they could recover.

Kaillum noticed the warriors sleek metal armor was covered head to toe in blood. He looked the vision of a necromancer's abomination. His visor was closed tight and his eyes glowed furiously beneath.

A roar came from behind them. One of the undead, with unique markings painted on his body, stood atop the far wall. He waved in the direction of the Merkadians campsite. They all ran toward him and, upon reaching the wall, started to scale the sheer rock face.

Kaillum sprinted after them, pulling every soldier he passed. His forces were growing tired, but they couldn't stop. The break in combat lulled them into a stupor, and he couldn't let them stay that way. Kaillum felt the presence of Thandril jogging behind him. He found comfort in his enemy for the moment.

"We need to end this," Thandril growled.

"Agreed."

"They are going to take the fight to you now."

"I can see that."

With a grunt, Thandril sped past him and jumped on the heels of a group of undead stragglers. "Faster!" He shouted, yanking the head off one of his prey.

Kaillum leapt over another of the fallen and pushed himself harder. The majority of undead were already working their way down the backside of the wall. He reached the barrier and tried to climb. He couldn't find any suitable handholds or places to boost himself up. The rest of the soldiers arrived and encountered the same difficulty. The undead had certain physical advantages and those had enabled them to climb the seemingly unclimbable wall.

"Damn it," Kaillum cursed under his breath, "This won't work. We need to go back to the breaks in the wall. Go!" He moved about the crowd and pushed men in the right direction. At that moment, the sky broke open, and thunderous rain spilled out. "Perfect." Kaillum shook his head and hustled to take lead of his company.

* * *

Rain fell hard on Taverous' face, as lightning etched the sky in harsh lines. He scanned the battlefield before him—the stretch of land that the Merkadians had fought for, inch by inch, eventually forcing the Talurian army into their Keep. Now the fight was coming back toward them, but that wasn't his major concern at the moment.

Taverous felt Balar before he could see him. He had been engaged by Mathis and Lasal. Separately, they would not last long, but together, they could stall him momentarily. That gave Taverous the time he needed. Once he spotted them, he sent a massive orb of energy rippling through the air.

Balar gripped Mathis' fist mid-strike, landing his own blow under the Tearanei's ribs. A potion crashed under his feet—Lasal's doing. Balar snarled at the seer. His feet started to freeze but, with a laugh, he closed his eyes, and as quickly as the potion started to take effect, it reversed and dissipated into the dirt.

Balar was almost too late in sensing Taverous' attack. He whirled around, thrusting his staff into the air. The tip shattered the sphere, causing an explosion of brilliant light.

Taverous watched as his brother easily defended against his attack. He let out a frustrated sigh. He knew that, in regards to combat, he was far from Balar's equal.

Balar launched at Taverous, blood-red energy building within his palms. "My turn," He said with a grin.

Taverous held his position and concentrated on gathering his energy for a shield. Balar came directly to him and unleashed a shockwave of power from his outstretched hands, throwing even himself back. Taverous' shield groaned under the weight of the attack. Small holes in the defense started to form. Taverous reinforced each one as quickly as possible, but it wasn't enough.

The shield collapsed and the searing energy burned over his body. With the sound of Balar's menacing laugh ringing in his ears, Taverous fell from the sky.

* * *

Kaillum tumbled down the last bit of debris, mud splattering across his armor. He jumped back to his feet and got his bearings straight. The undead had a large lead on his troops. They were almost at the Merkadian campsite. Only a small number of soldiers stayed behind in case of emergency—far too few to hold the last of the undead.

A falcon screeched overhead, circling two times before flying in the direction of the camp.

They got closer and closer, hearing the sounds of swords clashing against each other, and the clang of metal on shields. Kaillum fought to keep at his brutal pace, demanding the same from his fellow warriors. The tribesmen from Kilgar, Chargon, and Targa were used to the physical demands, but the Merkadians were a horse riding people.

Kaillum reached the outer perimeter and engaged a small group of undead placed as guards to cut off their path. He spun to avoid a blade and landed his own strike to the back of the offender. With a parry and counterattack, he drove through the next. One by one they came, and each, he disabled for his following troops to finish.

There it was. The command pavilion.

His father, along with his siblings, would be there. He rounded a corner, but it was tightly blocked by a group of Thandril's Forestials locked in battle with a pair of six-armed warriors. There was a nearby embankment and, if carefully navigated, he could put himself directly at the back of the command tent. He motioned for two soldiers to follow him and for the rest to help wherever they could.

The steep bank was littered with debris from the city fire. Kaillum fought for good footing as mingling streams turned to rivers under his feet. The two men who accompanied him were having an, even more, difficult time. A high buzz ramped up in front of him. He looked to see a Staffwielder launching an attack their way.

He narrowly jumped away from the blast, but his companions were engulfed in the fiery light, convulsing and crumbling to the ground.

A large rock flew over Kaillum, crashing into the Staffwielder and removing its head. Thandril came jogging up to him. To his astonishment, Thandril moved over the difficult terrain with ease. The druid reached the Prince, picked him off the ground, and continued forward along the embankment with Kaillum on his shoulder.

Kaillum bounced against Thandril as he moved. "Thanks."

All he got was a grunt in response.

* * *

Taverous' eyes slowly blinked open.

His vision hazy and his body tingled. He reached up, running his hand over his face. With a hiss, he pulled it away. The skin was boiled and crackling. He tried to focus his eyes, but nothing helped. A sound from behind made him twist around, awakening injuries he had yet to discover. He collapsed to the ground and made out the shape of boots skidding to a halt in front of his face.

The owner squatted down next to him.

There were two voices; someone else stood out of his field of vision, both—frightened, upset voices.

They were saying something, but the words were muffled and out of reach to Taverous' hearing. He felt hands seize his arms and legs. The pain made him want to scream out, but his mouth resisted his commands. The men carried him away, to who knows where. The muffled sounds of battle grew quieter and quieter. They were moving further from the action.

He was set down and a soft roll of material was tucked under his head. One of the men kneeled next to him and held his hands over Taverous' chest. A light started to emanate from his palms. The light was cool and made his skin relax. The pain lessened slightly. Taverous knew who were with him now, Mathis and Lasal. The tension in his head and back relaxed. He was safe for the moment and slipped into a much-needed unconsciousness.

* * *

Mathis mended his wounds, but the injury was too much for a complete healing. "Damn it..." He shook his head.

"What now?" Lasal asked, resting his hand on Taverous' shoulder.

"He'll live, but I don't know in what condition. I'll try to repair more later." Mathis paused, "He is done in this fight."

Lasal nodded, understanding the weight of that statement. If Balar was not stopped, there would be no later. Everyone would be dead. "I'll watch him. You know they need you."

Mathis stood to his feet. "Alright. Be careful. Balar might come looking for him." He took a last look at his creator and took off at a run, entering back into the fight.

* * *

Thandril dropped Kaillum with a thud. They had reached the top of the hill and now stood behind the command tent.

"We made it in time. The undead have yet to reach the pavilion," Kaillum let out a sigh of relief.

Thandril cocked his head. "Wait..." A moment later, sounds erupted from inside the tent. "We seemed to have arrived at the same time." Thandril didn't hesitate to rip through the fabric, lunging into the King's refuge. Kaillum was close behind.

The room spun with activity.

Melidarius' guards had pulled the King toward the backside of the tent and formed a tight perimeter around him. The chieftains and their own men fought to do the same. Ceth and Ryon commanded a small band of soldiers trying to retake the entrance. Fayeth was firing arrows over the head of her younger brother, Dageros, who's copies pushed off the encroaching undead.

Thandril felt a tap on his shoulder. "Come on," Kaillum said, moving in the direction of his father.

"There is something not right," Thandril said, "There are too few of the undead pushing in through the front."

"Arclite, Shaymesh, and the others may be making progress with the undead army," Kaillum said, "We could be close to turning this thing our way."

As those words left the Prince's mouth, the tent's support beam snapped and splintered out into the room. The canopy started to sag inward. Swords stabbed through the fabric, and an explosion of sunlight rushed into the room as multiple openings poured in undead soldiers. Any sort of defensive formation that had been set up was shattered.

The tent tangled up the warriors and separated masters from their guards. Thandril stayed close to the prince, who still fought to be at his father's side.

"Father!" Kaillum screamed out into the mess of bodies.

An axe swung down at Kaillum's head and stopped short with a clang, as it made contact with Thandril's arm plate. His other fist swung from beneath and landed across the undead's jaw, lifting him off the ground.

Thandril had an idea. He dropped to his knees and closed his eyes.

With a thunderous boom, air flooded into the tent, filling it like a balloon. The fabric launched into the air, revealing all of its occupants sprawled out below. The surprise stopped everyone for a moment, but not any longer. The handicap was gone, and now the Merkadians and tribesmen were on even terms with the undead.

Thandril and Kaillum reached Melidarius. The father and son embraced.

"I was worried I wouldn't reach you in time," said Kaillum.

With a ripple of earth, Balar Appeared in the center of the action, leaning on his staff—his chest heaving from the amount of exertion during the fight with Taverous and the Tearanei.

"Enough. I grow tired." Balar paused. "Your meager semblance of courage and strength has turned to a gnawing bore." He lifted his staff and, with a nod, the army of undead sprawled out around the burnt-out cityscape crumbled to ash.

Calm settled over the countryside.

It was the first moment in weeks, where the sounds of fighting didn't linger in the air. The soldiers of Taluria, Merkadia, Chargon, Kilgar, and Targa, along with the Forestials of Thandril, mingled together, making their way to the focal point—to Balar.

The lull was mesmerizing. White noise screamed across the rain-soaked battlefield—the sound of boots crunching over fallen debris, sheaths bouncing against platemail, horses neighing at their riders, and the eerie void of thousands of breathless soldiers.

Balar made no motion—made no sound.

The leaders of each side moved to stand together. Thandril and Arteus stood next to the chieftains and the royal family of Merkadia. General Vyker waited vigilantly alongside his King. Shaymesh, along with Ceth and Arclite, came forward out of the assembling crowd to join them. Mathis came running into the circle from the other side, stopping short of Balar.

The dark magician turned his gaze to the Tearanei priest. "He lives?"

"No, he is gon—" Mathis shook and fell to his knees, grabbing at his head.

"Don't lie," Balar hissed, his eyes sparking red. He swatted his hand and Mathis fell backward, released from the assault.

Balar scanned the assembled crowd. Everyone was there; the pawns in his game of amusement.

It was time to move onto the next level—with new pieces. It was time to be rid of these pathetic excuses for warriors. Balar smiled and then bowed his head to the ground.

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