The tide of the battle was turning against them at a frightening pace.

Esfandar's men ran in shock and terror before the fire powered soldiers of Soraya's army. They might as well have been gods descended from the heavens for all the shock and awe they evoked in his men.

Perhaps they were gods, Esfandar wondered half in incredulity. Who else could have such powers?

But no, these people were all too clearly human. They released torrents of flames the size of horses from their palms, and Esfandar's men fell down screaming and writhing and burning. The scent and haze of smoke quickly filled the battlegrounds, creating a mist to obscure one's vision.

He and Gita had hastily fled away from the new troops before they too could be burned, but the smoke made it impossible to try to go anywhere. They held tightly to each other's hands, knowing that if they were separated in this smoke, it would be impossible to find one another again.

As they moved, enemy soldiers would cross them, running blindly through the fog. They cut them down, each time, quickly and efficiently stabbing, slashing and running forward to seek out a regiment of their own army to join and command.

Any organization of the army that had remained before was almost certainly destroyed now. It was those soldiers of fire. How were they possible? It didn't matter though. They were real, and they were fighting him right this minute- that was all that mattered. His mind could wait to puzzle out the rest of it once the battle was one.

"Come on," Gita encouraged him, tugging him along faster. He winced, gritting his teeth at the pain coming from his cut thigh, but kept moving.

He stumbled on the arm of a dead man, and fell to his knees, letting go of Gita's hand. She turned back to him in concern.

"I'm fine," He said. He caught his breath and raised his gaze up to hers as he pushed himself back to his feet. "I'm-"

His eyes widened as he looked up to see Gita with her arm thrown back, a dagger in her hand, and aiming right for him. He stood perfectly still, not daring even to breathe, as she released the weapon forward with a grunt of exertion.

He felt a sharp pain at his ear, and then heard the sound of a strangled grunt behind him. He turned around to see one of Soraya's fire soldiers tumbling to the ground, a knife lodged in his neck. The body hit the ground with a thump, sending up a cloud of dust and ash.

"Hurry," Gita said, grabbing his arm and pulling him forward.

At last, by some stroke of luck, the smoke began to clear. They were heading away from the troop of fire wielders. They came across a more organized regiment of Esfandar's soldiers, who were doing their best to retain their position as they fought Soraya's men.

"Your highness!" The general directing the men called as he caught sight of Esfandar. It was a man named Babak, one of Esfandar's highest ranking generals. He had a cut on his forehead that dripped blood into his left eye, and the fatigue of battle was heavy on him, but he still stood tall and unharmed.

Esfandar clasped him on the shoulder as he approached.

"What's the situation?" he asked even as his eyes roamed the battlefield around them, trying to assess the current state of the battle.

Babak's grimace made Esfandar's heart sink in fear.

"Organization has broken down on both sides, your highness," he said. "Without an organized formation to keep up our defenses... with their superior weapons, they'll soon overpower us and enter the city."

Esfandar cursed out loud, his fists clenching at his side in despair and anger. Soraya had outwitted him. He had been completely prepared for her attack, completely ready to block her forces from invading, but he'd had no way of foreseeing the enemy having such destructive, supernatural powers. Each of those fire wielders was worth fifty men in battle, and they'd almost single handedly obliterated his defenses. It was all over.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind and patted Babak's shoulder. No, now of all times he couldn't accept defeat.

"You've done admirably," he said. "But we're not done yet. I need a horse."

Bewildered, Babak gestured to a nearby soldier to dismount his steed. Esfandar pulled himself up into the saddle. From that height he had a slightly better view of the battle field. He should be able to avoid major points of fighting, and if not, well, he still had his sword at his belt.

"I'm going to round up any other regiments that may still be together farther out," he said to Babak, Gita, and whoever else was close enough to hear him over the sound of fighting and dying. "Form a defensive position in front of the eastern gate. We'll reform and fortify our strength there. We just might be able to hold out until a stalemate."

"Gita," Esfandar said, and she met his gaze. "Take as many men as you need and search for regiments towards the west. I trust you to get them all safely back to the gate."

Gita nodded firmly, her eyes never straying from his. There was so much more he wanted to say to her, and the sinking feeling in his stomach of separating from her again nearly choked him. But her eyes said everything he needed to hear: Go. You can trust me.

He nodded back to her and turned his attention to Babak.

"Babak, I leave you in command of the troops here. Lead these men back to the gate now and make sure they know what to do."

"But- but your highness-" Babak began to protest. Esfandar cut him off with a stern look.

"These are my orders," he said. "We'll have to move quickly."

With that, he snapped the reins of his horse, and it whinnied once before galloping forward, jumping over and around dead men and those still fighting to stay alive. He didn't look back until he was sure that Gita and the others were obscured from his sight. He clenched his fingers tightly around the reins. He'd see them all soon enough.

The smoke wasn't quite so thick here, but a light haze of ash and dust still hung heavily in the air, as if the entire battlefield was crowded with the souls of the dead. Perhaps it was.

A man came into view up ahead, turning in Esfandar's direction just as Esfandar sliced cleanly through his neck. He kept galloping forward, his eyes and ears straining for sounds. A few more men came into his path as he moved further west, but he dispatched them all easily.

Soon his mind began to panic, overcome with fear and desperation. What if all of his troops were already killed and defeated, Soraya's fire wielders marching on Shiraz as he searched in vain for help? He kept searching, somehow keeping the thoughts from overwhelming him, but his fists tightened with every minute that he saw no one from his own forces.

At last, he saw them in the distance: a large group of men in formation, pushing back attackers as they tried to move past them towards the city. The shouts and cries of the battle grew louder as Esfandar drew closer, and he picked up speed as soon as he saw the uniforms of his own army.

"Your highness!" The two generals leading said in surprise at his approach.

"Which regiments are you?" Esfandar asked, pushing aside their questioning faces.

"Third and fourth infantry divisions, sire," the elder of the men replied. Esfandar breathed a sigh of relief. The third and fourth divisions were two of the largest in his forces. Even with decimated numbers, they could make the difference between victory and defeat.

"You've done well to keep the men together in formation," he told them. "But now we're falling back to the eastern gate for a defensive. Give the orders immediately for an organized retreat."

The two men bowed in acknowledgement without hesitation, then moved about their troops, shouting out Esfandar's orders at the top of their lungs. The men struggled to reform while still fending off soldiers attacking from the front, but somehow managed the task.

"Men!" Esfandar called out once the ranks were formed, leading his horse forward so they could see him. "We fall back to defend the eastern gate and find victory- with me!"

A roaring cry rose up from the troops in reply. Esfandar nodded once more to the two generals before turning and galloping ahead, the two infantry divisions following close behind as he led the way.

The smoke began to grow thicker once more as they made their way back into the center of the battle, towards the eastern gateway of the city. The towering stone walls of Shiraz rose up on their left, casting an imposing shadow upon them as they moved at top speed.

Returning seemed to take much less time than Esfandar remembered, and soon they reached the gate. The two generals behind Esfandar shouted orders to the men to reinforce the defensive formation of the troops already in position as Esfandar dismounted his horse and made his way towards Babak.

The tall man was standing in the midst of the soldiers, shouting orders and gesturing wildly as he gave instructions to his subordinates.

Babak turned around with a wild look in his eyes, but seemed to relax visibly when he saw Esfandar standing behind him.

"Your highness," he said in relief. "Did you find-?"

"The third and fourth infantry divisions are arranging themselves in defense of the gate as we speak," Esfandar cut him off, pointing to the new troops that were still arriving.

"Good, good," Babak murmured, though his brows still furrowed in concern. "It just might be enough..."

Esfandar glanced about him, taking in the looming stone gateway and the thousands of hardened men standing before it, ready to defend it to the death. The numbers were sizeable, more than he'd even dared hoped for. Gita must have brought back some more men with her from the western side.

"Where is Gita?" Esfandar asked as soon as the thought of her crossed his mind. He looked around, but there were too many soldiers for him to be able to find her. He looked back to Babak expectantly.

"She sent the regiments back ahead of her," Babak replied. "She's still searching for more of them."

The feeling that he was falling from a great height came back to him. He shoved down the feeling as hard as he could.

"Organize the men, and make sure they're on the look out for her and more reinforcements," he commanded. "Now, we fight."

Babak bowed and moved to carry out the orders. Esfandar stood amongst his men, men who bled and grasped tightly to their weapons. You could tell which ones had seen battle before and which ones had not simply by looking into their eyes. Those who had fought in wars before bore grimaces on their faces, looks that said they were resigned to whatever fate the gods had in store for them. Those for whom this was their first battle had the fear and horror written plainly on their faces like word in ink on a parchment paper.

Esfandar inhaled deeply and unsheathed his sword. The blade was covered with blood and dirt, but still felt storng and solid in his hands. He held it up in a proper fighting stance and waited.

A silence grew, the kind that felt strange and eerie on such a loud place. The smoke in the air thickened until it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of them.

And then the onslaught began.

Huge bursts of fire erupted at the front line, and the screams of the men there made every other soldier jump in panic at the horrid sound.

"Hold!" Esfandar shouted to the men, as other generals and commanders shouted their own directives to hold the position.

The fires still burned and petered out on the front lines, and the men seemed to be successful in keeping the fire wielders occupied there, but now regular soldiers from Soraya's army approached, screaming and thrusting out swords and spears.

One man with a long spear pointed at Esfandar's belly charged, screaming in rage. Esfandar stepped to the side, cut the spear in half and punched the man hard. He fell down to the dirt, knocked out cold.

More kept coming and Esfandar and the other soldiers engaged them. He slashed and cut and whirled, killing so many men it began to all blur together in his mind, all of the faces and all of the screams. They all looked and sounded the same.

The fires were destroying his men, destroying everything that lay in their path. Esfandar saw the explosions of fire slowly but surely moving closer, and his heart stuttered. This was the end, then. No one and nothing could stand against such power, especially not as unprepared to face it as he had been. It was impossible.

He withdrew his sword from a man's back and stood, heaving breaths in and out.

He could kill at least one of the fire wielders before they could do any more harm. At this point, he would die anyway, killed with the rest of his men. He might as well die doing something to take such a menace out of the world.

He took a purposeful step forward and paused- the sound of a ram's horn boomed out over the valley, ringing in the ears of every soldier still alive to hear it. The sound seemed to drag on interminably, hanging in the air. And then it stopped.

With the sound, the fires and bursts of flame ceased at the front of the lines. The men of Soraya's army who were still able to move ran back towards the direction of the hills, the goal of invading Shiraz and destroying his army seemingly forgotten behind them.

And just like that, in the space of a single second, the battle was over.

Esfandar's legs shook and he fell down to his knees. Babak, running over to find him, quickly put an arm over his shoulder to help him back to his feet.

"Our losses are heavy, but our defense was successful," Babak said, relief saturating his voice. "We won."

"No," Esfandar said, his voice shot through with pain from his wounds. "No, they only retreated out of necessity. Something must have happened."

He glanced up to the clouds briefly, wondering if this was some intervention of the gods on his behalf. He had never been much of a believer, but he sent up a silent prayer just in case.

A soldier pushed through the throngs of now celebrating men and bowed down in front of them.

"News, general, your highness," he said. "The enemy's retreat is nearly complete. It seems that the entire army is moving north, away from the city. Reports confirm this."

The sudden retreat and movement of the enemy troops disturbed him to no end, but it wasn't his greatest concerned at the moment.

"Gita," he said desperately. "Where is Lieutenant Gita?"

The man's expression grew grim and Esfandar had to restrain himself from wringing the man's neck to let him speak faster. He pictured those destructive flames once more, how the screams of their victims had pierced the air during the battle. Had he been listening to her screams and not even known it?

"I'm sorry, your highness," the man said at last. "Lieutenant Gita has been taken prisoner by the enemy forces."