It was a cool morning, the white sky suffocating the suns. Dew formed on the grass as if in mourning to their leaving. They marched onwards, up and down the drifting road, the dull clank of armor muffled by their long leather jackets with the scuffle of hard heels over cobbled stone.

Grizwald’s squad had been selected as Sigmarius Landon’s personal guard and so marched double file behind two officers atop their plodding barded warhorses. Landon spoke with the other officer, their voices lowered that Edus could barely hear.

“This is grim news Isaac,” Landon murmured. “Grim news indeed.”

“Raul has driven back all reinforcements and continue to surround the Middenfort. It has only held so long as the Spider Queen's absence. The Crown Steward still has not sent any mage to support us.”

“Leaving us, the commoners to fight. And Lyonia’s legions? Most of their forces still have not yet reached the Middenfort?”

“A few battalions, but nowhere near a legion. Raul swatting away our assaults as if we were merely flies, and still holding the Crossroads. Their legions’ ability in battle is… undeniable.”

“Undeniable it may be but so are our numbers. Even though press ganging our former men we still outnumber them three to one.” Landon spoke as if he were trying to make himself believe it to be true. “Nevertheless, we cannot underestimate their stratagem. Digging a trench line between our front and the Middenfort? Remarkable.”

“A siege within a siege,” Isaac intoned. “But who will fall first?”

“The question is whose supplies run out first. The Heartlands will always have more fertile land. Which is why Raul holds the advantage should they push forward to Hearth. Whereas we would have to lay siege to their blasted fortress of a city, and rely on staggered supply lines that would not be enough to hold over a prolonged siege of months.”

“We have the advantage in troops,” Isaac pointed out. “Why not use the siege machines constructed near the Green Pass?”

“A shrewd suggestion,” Landon agreed. “But we would have to reach the Highlands in the first place. There is no certainty the Spider Queen would have left them standing. One does not know with her whims. I’d like to know who is behind Raul's strategy at the Crossroads. Holding the Middenfort will be the tipping point in this war. And we may well be losing it.”

The Sigmarien grew silent as they continued down the path. By noon they saw the smoke rising past the hill, a thick wall of black that blotted out the suns. Their pace did not quicken and so they marched painfully steadily onwards.

The vast number of tents dotted the grassland, tips of pointed ragged grey covering the yellowing green. The distant indigo banners of Hearth fluttered violently with the wind, emblazoned with golden thread of the two suns.

They drew closer to the encampment and the stench hit them as a resounding wave. It was rotten and putrid, a foul sickly sweet odor that clogged and cloyed their airways, refusing to escape. Edus swallowed sour bile that escaped the back of his throat. Others retched openly to the sides.

“What’s that fecking smell?” Sven had to ask, voicing all their thoughts.

“They’re burning the dead,” Grizwald answered.

Edus’ eyes strayed past the tents and roughly a league away saw a perimeter of wooden stakes all around the Middenfort, a low stubbed squared silhouette darkened by the smoke. The smoke began from the ground, as if the very earth was burning. He realized that it was in fact a wide trenchline, nearly a league and more long, snaking all around the fort.

Corpses littered the open field between the encampment and the burning moat. Murders of crows flew in wild spirals, cawing triumphantly. Soldiers dragged the fallen back to the camp, tiny and seemingly insignificant in the faraway distance.

Is this what we’ll be? Edus thought. Merely a feast for the crows, mother not even having a body to mourn over, just like father?

***

They gathered in formation of their battalion, four lines of shieldbearers in front, two lines of pikemen behind, and the singular gunnery line at the back. More battalions stood beside them, marching in sullen silence. The telltale sounds of musket shot cracked past the dying smoke.

More retching continued among their ranks, for the foul stench of rotten corpses burning grew ever stronger as they drew closer to the trench line, though Edus suspected it was not just from the putrid smoke. He knew because his nerves were frayed as well, and he realized his legs were shaking before him.

A lone horseman raced through the lines, bearing deliverance of his message to the Imperialus of their legion. The Sigmen waved their standards, the signal to march forward.

The assault would begin in two fronts: Hearth’s legion to the south and Lyonia’s forces mustered to the east. The smoke was all encompassing, both sides not visible to the other. It was deemed the best course of action, to use the literal smokescreen and wait just outside of the entrenched fortifications for it to clear.

They did not stand idle however. Squads moved to upheave the wooden stakes out from the ground, clearing openings for when the legion would advance. Those men had cloth wrapped to cover their face, yet their eyes were still exposed to the faltering smoke.

Edus watched, eyes stinging even from over a hundred paces away, a pain lesser to what it must be like for the others so close to the rancid fumes. Eventually the smoke did clear and die whilst the peals of musket fire continued alongside the distant cries of battle.

Edus’ shaking now grew to his right arm, tremors that stilled as he gripped his sword so tightly the knuckles of his fingers paled white with the strain. The march began, the men forming lines double file with their squads to fit through the staked fortifications moved to the sides.

Fine sifting snakes of smoke still rose from the bodies in the trenches, now ash and prematurely rusted metal from the fire. Pitch had been thrown in that stuck the ashes of the fallen to their boot heels. Some charred corpses were still very much whole, blackened and exposing bloody red gristle. Edus stepped over them, but the amount of bodies that had to have been in the long winding moat must have reached near the top, which was the shoulder level of most men. They waded through the river of ash hiding the metal armor of the dead, creating a hazardous trek through the trench that was wide enough for three men to walk past side by side.

Edus and his squad alongside Sigmarius Landon of their battalion were some of the last to clamber past back to ground level. The first squads stayed to help pull the others up to the other side. The order was to hold position once the entirety of the host grouped to join with Lyonia.

“Blast me,” swore Landon once they beheld the Middenfort. Distant soldiers wearing long black leather jackets and crimson surcoats colored their loyalty to Raul. There was more than a legion, thousands of men surrounding the fort on all fronts. The Middenfort was a rough circle of towers and parapets spanning half a league in width holding musketmen that shot past the squared teethed ramparts.

Long dangerously thin ladders twenty feet high were propped to the walls only to topple down, its climbers still determinedly hanging on. The laddermen continued their assault, and some managed to stay in place for others to reach the fort’s walls. Soldiers of Hearth, recognizable by their blue tabards, were thrown off screaming before being cut short as they struck solid ground. Slowly but surely the fort was being overtaken.

The horn was sounded, three bugling calls to charge. The golden tabards of Lyonia to the far right were still pouring out past the trench line. The terrain sloped steadily down to the fort, perfect for a running momentum. The front of the host cried out and barrelled forward, and Edus followed suit, yelling the whole while. He yelled so loud his ears rang from his own voice, crashing with the din of steel and gunfire and other yells and screams. He yelled until his throat grew hoarse, and he yelled some more.

Raul’s host had turned to face them, shields raised in an impressively knit wall. Their charge swiftly came to a halt as they met cold steel held with indomitable will. The first line collapsed, followed by the second line. Soldiers bled and screamed as Edus saw several men turning and falling as blood dribbled down their chin or openly gushed out in mass as swords chopped, stabbed and slashed with precise experienced blows. Now it was his squad’s turn.

A hot haze washed over him at having seen so many men killed in a matter of moments. Blood rushed through to his head, his breath ragged at having run full tilt for so long. His arms felt sluggish and drained. His mouth full of sour spit, though his dry throat felt as if it were filled with chalk, and he was now not ashamed at being held back from the front of the battle.

“Standard formation!” Bellowed Grizwald over Landon’s cry, “Press onwards! Reinforce the front line!”

Grizwald led the squad’s charge alongside Edus, Saul, and Fredric.

“Down low!” Grizwald roared and the shield bearers pushed their shields against the other shield line and squatted suddenly, rising upwards to shove them out of position. The lankiness of Sven and Mikaal came into full effect as they stabbed overhead or swung downward with their polearms at the foe’s helms.

Spiked and bladed reinforced steel lanced through thin steel plating, and the pikemen’s weapons were coated in red.

“Push through!” Grizwald continued, hacking through the neck of one soldier, blood spraying onto the captain’s shield. He bashed another to the ground with his shield and stabbed downwards, joined by the others through the created gap of Raul’s line.

Edus pushed and stabbed with his sword, hoping to strike before his foe struck him past his own shield. He growled and pushed with all his might, seeking to gain advantage until the shield suddenly jerked back and Edus stumbled off balance. He saw the soldier’s sword glinting sharply to face his forward momentum as he drew closer to the blade. A polearm whacked the soldier's helmet sideways, gore splaying out over Edus’ stunned face. He blinked as the blood reached his left eye.

“Sven get back in position!” Grizwald barked amidst the grunting and shrill screams of the dying, and they were quickly being surrounded as their advance faltered. Two soldiers replaced the one Sven had slain, teeth showing in their snarls through the T shaped openings of their helms. Edus was already locked in combat with another soldier, desperately blocking and parrying his clear better.

Saul turned to aid his brother, bull rushing one soldier with his shield who tilted his own shield in such a way Saul’s shield slid past as he caught his sword through the crevice of Saul’s gut.

“Saul!” Sven cried out.

The soldier of Raul grinned and took his sword out to strike him again. Saul roared and struck his helm with the pommel of his sword, once, twice, thrice; caving in the helmet and its wearer’s skull. All the while the other soldier stabbed and slashed at Saul, bringing him down.

Grizwald’s attention finally drew to Saul’s killer after having fought off three men. He sheathed his sword, wrenched his shield out from his arm and smashed it over the soldier’s head in a shattering clang. He then grabbed his legs out from under him and used his body as a man sized club to bludgeon the other soldiers at bay, for there were no reinforcing allies past the front line. Metal and bone crashed with a sickening thud against the steel tower shields of the enemy.

“Retreat!” Landon yelled in the ringing melee. “Retreat! Get to the other side!”

Grizwald spun and threw the body at the men of Raul with all his swinging force and yanked Sven back who was in a daze. “Your brother’s dead!” He roared at Sven's face. “We head back now or you’ll join him as well!”

They ran back to whence they came from. Edgard tripped over a stray rock in their haste, crying out in pain.

“I can’t move,” Edgard gasped. “I can’t feckin’ move.”

Grizwald slung his body over his shoulder and trudged on. Raul’s soldiers did not chase after them. Instead they cleared away to reveal a doubled line of musketmen, one line standing behind the other kneeling to unleash a thunderous volley at their backs.

Grizwald grunted as the shot pelted his backside, but one strayed to Edgard and Edus saw that his head hung low, leaking blood.

“Run to the trench!” Landon howled. “It’s our only chance!”

The elevation however small felt like a mountain to run up the seemingly endless slope. Soldiers fell in droves to the gunnery line. Some squads faced them with their shields raised to partially block the volley. These brave souls survived, if for a moment before the kneeling musketeers shot below their shields, puncturing their legs and causing them to crumple wailing in pain.

Edus felt the shot hit his cuirass, denting the metal and bruising his backside. He spun around, shield raised. He would block the next volley for his squad however way he could. Then he felt it. The power coursing through him, his blood mingled ice and fire. He yelled overhead as the next volley shot towards him. Until it halted.

Edus stared in disbelief at the rounds that hung in the air, rounds of musket shot suspended several meters around him. He backpedaled and ran back towards the moat, so fast that he caught up with his squad a hundred paces away in seconds.

He had ascended. He was a mage.

***

The daylight ebbed away as blood flushed from a wound. They stood at the other side of the Crossroads. Raul had taken the Middenfort and driven off the combined force of Hearth and Lyonia. They gathered round the freshly dug burial, absent of a grave. Other distant squads stood giving their respects to their fallen.

“Any words, Corro?” Grizwald brusquely asked.

Corro stared at the shoveled earth.

“I met Edgard when I was taken to an orphanage past my span of four. I thought living as the son of a whore in a brothel caravan was hard. Life was harder in the orphanage. Edgard spared me from it. We looked out for each other, and ran away for good when we were fourteen span.”

Corro blinked before any tears could form.

“I remember the first time I met him.” He gave a short laugh. “He asked if I had been burnt by the suns. I told him he was a fool, and we fought.” Corro grinned, eyes distant in memory. “We both were held in the Hole for a day as punishment. In that time we grew to respect one another, and defended each other from the evils of this world. I know he will not be remembered as a hero in history. He will be forgotten, a street urchin who just wanted a better life. But he was a hero to me. He was not just a friend. He was a loyal brother.”

“Aye, to brothers, in more kinship than blood.” Grizwald said. “Any words for Saul?”

Sven stood mute in reply. Edus fidgeted uneasily.

“If I may speak,” Edus began. “Saul was more than a decent man. He spoke no harsh words even to those who deserved it. He was kind, and defended those who did not have his strength. He always did the right thing. He-”

“He died saving me,” Sven cut in. “My brother died protecting me, as he always did.” Fresh tears dropped down his face. “Now he’ll be feckin’ burned, not even buried, with no proper funeral. It’s my fault.” Sven’s voice wavered as he whispered, more to himself than to anyone, “It's all my fault.”

Edus was about to speak but caught Grizwald shaking his head ever so slightly. The squad broke away to the camp. Grizwald pulled Edus back.

“Walk with me,” the captain commanded.

So they moved past the line of latrines and further past until they reached a downward slope that sunk the encampment from view.

Grizwald spoke, his voice so low Edus barely heard it over the wind hissing past the tall grass.

“I saw what you did.”

To lie to Grizwald was something Edus had not even thought nor dared to do. He was not sure how he would react.

“I did what I had to. You ran just the same as me.”

“Don’t play me for a fool, boy. You’re a mage, through and through.”

Edus looked at the open grassland, so peaceful compared to the blood and death that lay at the other side.

“Are you going to report me to the Inquisition?”

Grizwald took out his sword and Edus stepped back hastily. He brushed the palm of his other hand to the blade. He held his wounded hand for Edus to see. The long open cut closed rapidly, leaving only a thin white line and the smeared blood as proof of the wound.

“You’re a mage,” Edus breathed.

Grizwald nodded and said, “Give me your hand.”

Edus thought better he did as he was bid and winced as Grizwald promptly sliced his open hand. The wound brought forth blood. It flowed, stemmed, then welled no more. Edus wiped away the blood and marveled at the slight scar that now crossed his palm.

“You hold more than the Gift of Kinesis,” Grizwald said. “You have Immortality as well. That alone makes you an Eternal. You ascended during the battle, did you not?”

Edus nodded. Curiosity overpowered his fears of the future. “So, are the stories about you true? Do you fight to honor the memory of your son?”

Grizwald turned away, hands clasped behind his back. He looked up at the night sky.

“All stories hold some truth to them. But my son never enlisted. He was a farmer, and died peacefully in his bed of old age. As did my wife long before him.”

“You married a commonborn?”

“Aye, I did.” Grizwald sighed, a deep sigh that was from more than weariness.

“You still did not say what you will do.”

“Nothing. The Inquisition will snap you up soon enough, for a mage such as you will not go unnoticed. I’ve gone through many names. I’ve journeyed through the Three Realms and back again. The only Gift I bear is Immortality, and that is enough as a curse. You will realize this past your hundredth span, when all your friends and loved ones have withered and died. I’m going to give you a bit of advice. Always remember where you came from. You were a commoner just as you are now a mage. Never forget the ties you have to the commonblood. That will still keep you human.”

They stood over the hill, the lone moon shining down above them. Edus was glad for this peace, if for a moment from the bloodshed he had witnessed and dealt. The future looked bleak and filled with death; but he was a mage, as was Grizwald. And he would defend the rest of his squad from the fates of the fallen in the coming days with his newfound power.