The next day, before the sun had time to rise, the two armies stood in formation across the designated dueling field, each side a formless beast, its many eyes made up by torchlight. The air was thick with anticipation, broken only by the occasional sounds of horses and shifting men.

  A warm breeze blew across the armies, causing the banners to dance as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon.

  Without a word, four men, two from each side, rode towards the center of the field.

  “Lord Para, Lord Bovera,” Lord Leora said, greeting the two Great Lords as they approached from the opposing side.

  “Drake, Averell,” Lord Bovera replied, with a curt nod.

  Returning the nod, Lord Leora started to speak, his deep voice easily carrying across the field.

  “Everyone here knows the rules. Once the duel begins, no one else may interfere without forfeiting the duel. The duel will only end when one side yields or is killed. Killing an opponent who has yielded is a crime and will result in severe consequences. The victor will be recognized as the righteous party in this quarrel and may demand reparations, so long as they are not unreasonable. Do both of you understand?”

  “Yes,” Lord Baura answered.

  “Yes,” Lord Para echoed.

  Confirming that Lord Baura and Lord Para agreed to the terms, Lord Leora cleared his throat.

  “If there are no objections, Lord Bovera and I will withdraw to our respective forces. Once we have reached them, the duel may begin. Do you understand?”

  “We understand,” Lord Baura and Para answered simultaneously, their eyes locked on one another.

  Seeing that neither Lord was paying attention to him anymore, Lord Leora exchanged a glance with Lord Bovera. The two shared a soulless smile before turning back to their armies.

  Silently riding his horse back, Lord Leora felt his heart begin to beat rapidly. Although he was confident in Lord Baura, sweat still appeared on his forehead, and his hands trembled slightly.

  Must be getting old, he thought, shaking his head. A small duel like this is making me anxious.

  By the time he reached his soldiers, he collected himself, drawing a small amount of Aether to control his emotions. Using the remaining energy, he enhanced his vision, getting a better view of the duel.

  Standing in the center of the field, Lord Baura faced Lord Para from only a few paces away, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

  In his left hand, he held a metal shield. In his right hand, a cruel-looking single-headed battle axe. Drawing a deep breath of the warm morning air, he began to pull Aether into his body, guiding the filtered energy through his body using the primal pathway created by his family. The power rotated through his body, strengthening his bones and muscles.

  When was the last time I drew this much Aether? He wondered, turning to Lord Para.

  “Ulric.” His voice echoed in his head. “This is my only warning. Yield now, and I will let you walk away without crippling you.”

  His body yearned to fight.

  Lord Para’s eyes narrowed. He raised his sword, Aether flaring around him.

  “The rot take you,” he snarled.

  “Don’t say that I never gave you a chance,” Lord Baura laughed.

  He stepped to the side, forcing Lord Para to reposition himself.

  As the two Great Lords circled each other, Baura’s primal manifestation appeared, a massive boar, its razor-sharp tusks glowing with power. Across from him, Lord Para summoned his own: a regal rooster, its mighty wings spread wide, feathers blazing with fire.

  The two manifestations of Aether lit up the morning sky, causing the soldiers surrounding them to shout. Their voices shook the ground, causing birds to take to the air.

  Almost as if there was a silent agreement, both Great Lords charged.

  Weapons carved bright arcs through the morning air. With a thunderous clash of sparks, they collided with each other, the impact sending the soldiers into a frenzied roar.

  The duel had begun.

  Catching Lord Para’s opening slash with his shield, Lord Baura felt the familiar sensation of weight reverberating through his arm.

  I didn’t miss this, he thought, his arm stinging. But it’s not as bad as I remember.

  Seizing the moment his shield gave him, he swung his battle axe at Lord Para’s leg.

  Seeing the strike coming, Lord Para quickly raised his leg, letting the axe swing harmlessly past his leg. He jumped back, sword held high.

  Establishing the distance where they could both attack and defend with ease, the two started a cautious dance of feints, parries, and light strikes. They were testing each other, looking for openings or bad habits that might have appeared since the last time they had seen each other fight.

  “You still fight like a coward,” Lord Baura said, using his axe to deflect a thrust. “Never committing.”

  Stepping forward, he rammed his shield into Lord Para’s body, pinning his sword arm against his body. “That’s why none of your thrusts have any power in them.”

  Ducking low, he swung his axe at Para’s legs again. This time, Lord Para wasn't fast enough.

  Cold steel met warm flesh.

  Lord Para screamed, pain and rage giving his voice a raspy, grating sound. But he struck back, not allowing his wound to slow him down.

  Expertly shifting his shield, Lord Buara caught the desperate counterstrike. He was ready for it. Even if Lord Para was considered the weakest out of the Great Lords, he was still a Great Lord.

  “That was more like it, but it’s too late,” he said.

  Smiling wickedly, he attacked, refusing to give Lord Para time to stabilize himself. His axe sang as it swung up and down.

  Form One of the Stance of the Desert: Desert Wind!

  “DIE!”

  As Lord Baura’s axe stuck down, Lord Para threw himself backward, desperately bringing his sword up at the same time. Using the distance he created with his fall, he barely blocked the blow, grunting as the force sent him tumbling across the dirt.

  Lord Baura blinked in surprise.

  That should have killed him. Or at the very least, injured him, he thought. How did he avoid that?

  “You’ve improved,” he said, stepping back and rolling his shoulder in a tight circle to loosen it. “How did you get stronger?”

  Improvement among Arcane Warriors was expected—but with age came the inescapable curse of time, the aging body slowly deteriorating. At Para’s age and prior ability, such progress was suspicious.

  “Did you turn to drugs? Or Dark Magic?”

  His eyes bored into Para. “Did you throw away your pride as a Great Lord? Did you turn to drugs just to beat me?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Lord Baura surged forward again, his axe screaming through the air.

  “Was this your hidden card? Did you and Bisconti truly believe that you, the weakest Great Lord, could defeat me with borrowed power? You sully your family name!”

  Lord Para staggered back, desperately keeping the battle-axe at bay. Blood streaked his armor as he screamed in rage, his face red with anger. “You dare look down on me! I am a Great Lord!”

  “In name only!” Lord Baura laughed.

  He swung his axe again and again, a relentless storm of sparks flying as Lord Para deflected what he could. But it wasn't enough.

  Blood soon poured from numerous wounds as Lord Para stumbled back, falling to the ground, his face pale.

  Walking forward slowly, Lord Baura raised his axe high.

  “Do you yield, my lord?” he asked, planting his right foot firmly against Lord Para’s neck.

  “Please—please don’t kill me,” Lord Para gasped, his terrified expression turning to panic as Lord Baura pressed down harder.

  “So, do you yield?”

  Seeing Lord Para struggle to breathe, Lord Baura eased the pressure slightly. As he did, he felt an unexpected rumbling vibrate through the ground.

  His heart dropped.

  Something’s wrong!

  Glancing up in alarm as the rumble grew louder, he saw a cloud of dust rushing towards him.

  The forces of Lord Bovera and Para were charging!

  Like a wave, the army rode toward them, the banners depicting the mighty Cape Buffalo of House Bovera, and the fiery Rooster from House Para snapping behind them.

  Eyes narrowing in rage, Lord Baura turned to Lord Para.

  “A coward to the very end,” he snarled. “Do you truly think your army can stand against ours!”

  He turned to signal his own cavalry—

  —and froze.

  Disbelief slammed into him like a physical blow.

  Behind his camp, a massive army had appeared, every soldier mounted on powerful warhorses. Their banners were unfamiliar: yellow with no other marking. Their formation was precise, something only true veterans could achieve.

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  “Goddess, reject me,” he breathed. What was going on?

  “What did you do…?” he managed to whisper, his blood running cold.

  “There is no such force within our Kingdom.” His voice cracked as he roared.

  “Did you sell us out?!”

  Feeling a rush of dread run down his spine, he waved frantically at Lord Leora, trying to tell him to turn around.

  “Turn around! Turn around! TURN AROUND!” he shouted, his power-enhanced voice swallowed by the roar of hooves.

  Almost as if to mock him, Lord Baura’s forces surged forward, charging to his aid.

  “No—STOP! Lord Baura bellowed. “Retreat! Retreat!”

  His heart sank as he spotted Drake at the head of the charge, his sons close beside him.

  “TURN AROUND! YOU'RE GETTING FLANKED!”

  Seeing his loved ones charge mindlessly into a trap, anger flooded into him. Whipping his gaze down at Para, he screamed.

  “You traitor! You sold our kingdom to another power?! Who did you ally with?!”

  Pain exploded up his leg.

  Lord Para had stabbed his leg with a knife!

  Cursing, Lord Baura stumbled back, his shield raised in defense.

  “Come at me then!” he shouted, blood running down his leg.

  I swear to Gera that I’m going to kill him if it’s the last thing I do!

  To his shock, Lord Para did not attack.

  Instead, the battered Great Lord turned and fled.

  Hobbling as fast as he could, Lord Para limped towards his army, desperation giving his body strength.

  “COME BACK! Lord Baura roared, rushing forward despite his wound.

  “I will kill you, Ulric! I swear it!”

  Moments before the duel. Lord Bovera sat atop his horse, observing the two Lords face off. He watched as the lords circled each other, but only half of his attention was on it.

  Tilting his head to stretch his neck, he spat as the fight started, the two Great Lords clashing with each other.

  “The fight is much more one-sided than expected,” Tulka muttered beside him. “I thought Lord Para would last much longer.”

  Grimacing in disgust, Lord Bovera scanned the horizon looking for the promised soldiers from the Great Shrine.

  “They’re not here yet,” he said.

  “They need to hurry,” Tulka muttered, shaking his head. “Lord Para is struggling.”

  Anxiety gnawed at Lord Bovera’s gut.

  Alumus, burn them, he thought, clenching his teeth.

  Had he put too much trust in the Great Shrine? Did they fail him again?

  Gripping the reins tightly, he silently cursed over and over again, his heartbeat thumping as he did.

  Ignoring the duel completely, he strained his eyes beyond the camp of Baura and Leora.

  “There!” he shouted suddenly. “They're here!”

  Soldiers crested the hill in the distance.

  “Tulka,” he commanded. “Lead your men against their camp! I’ll save Lord Para! Go—go!”

  Waving his hand over his head in a circular pattern, he signaled to Lord Para’s elite guard.

  “Follow me! We must save your Lord!”

  Digging his heels into the side of his horse, he charged forward.

  With a deafening roar, Lord Para’s soldiers surged after him.

  Thundering towards the dueling field, Lord Bovera watched as Lord Para fell and Lord Baura placed his foot on his neck.

  “CHARGE!” he shouted, his voice igniting the soldiers around him. Their unified voices swelled into a crescendo of bloodlust.

  Raising his massive battle axe, he drew deeply on the Aether surrounding him. His body swelled as a spectral image of a cape buffalo materialized around him.

  “Ulric!” he shouted.

  Ahead, Lord Para had miraculously escaped, limping wretchedly as he made his way to them.

  Tightening his grip on his reins, Lord Bovera squeezed his legs, urging his horse to run faster.

  “Faster! Faster!”

  Streaking past Lord Para, he raised his weapon high, his eyes locked onto Lord Baura.

  He swung.

  Lord Baura barely had time to lift his shield.

  A terrifying boom echoed across the battlefield as battle axe met shield, sparks erupting into the air.

  Lord Bovera clenched his teeth as the impact tore up his arm, nearly ripping the axe from his grip.

  I almost broke my arm, he realized, wincing.

  Yanking on the reins, he quickly regained control of his horse and turned sharply, panting as he searched for Baura.

  Lord Baura lay sprawled on his back, his shield and axe nowhere in sight.

  “Kill him!” Lord Para screamed.

  Para’s elite guard surged forward, spears, swords, and axes descending in a merciless storm.

  Weaponless, Lord Baura stood no chance, no way to defend himself. Even so, he dragged several soldiers from their mounts before vanishing beneath a sea of steel and blood.

  “You're late!” Lord Para panted at Bovera, his face ashen and gaunt. “He almost killed me!”

  Lord Bovera grimaced at the ungrateful outburst and spat, his voice colder than intended.

  “You’re still alive. You can complain later. The battle isn’t over. We have much to do. Give me command of your army!”

  “Yes, yes.”

  Turning his head to make sure Lord Para’s men acknowledged the transfer in power, he lifted his hand above his head and swung it forward.

  “Forward!”

  Charging after Tulka—who had led the Bovera forces to intercept Lord Leora—Lord Bovera soaked in the sounds of battle, the tragic music turning the new day into a nightmare with no waking.

  The metallic stench of blood and death filled his lungs as he urged his horse onward. His battle axe cleaved straight through a man’s shield, splitting the startled soldier’s head in two. Roaring as the intoxicating rush of battle and Aether coursed through him, he carved his way across the battlefield, his axe blurring as he swung it dangerously around him.

  “My Lord!” a Pillar shouted, his voice distant through the chaos. “The sons of Lord Baura have launched a direct countercharge against Lord Tulka! They’re engaged right now!”

  Instinct took over. Orders burst from Lord Bovera’s mouth before his mind could catch up.

  “I’ll lead half the men to support my brother! Pillar—take the rest and surround the camp! Do not let them escape!”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Soldiers! Follow me! We support Tulka!”

  Amid the chaos, Tulka led his cavalry with ruthless precision, his sword blurring as he clashed with the screaming soldiers of Baura. Ducking beneath the thrust of a mounted warrior, he scanned the battlefield, his gray eyes constantly searching for the Pillars—warriors surrounded by Arcane Light, a dead giveaway.

  Roving his eyes back and forth, his eyes settled on a man surrounded by Arcane Light, House Baura’s Boar emblazoned across his breastplate.

  Tulka narrowed his eyes, rifling through a list of names and faces in his mind.

  “Baura’s eldest son,” he breathed to no one in particular. Although the heir was still weak, he had great potential. Killing him would tilt the battle in their favor.

  Watching the man trample a fallen soldier beneath his horse, Tulka wrenched the reins on his horse and headed straight towards him.

  “Kornel!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Watch my back! I’ll get rid of Baura’s eldest! Stay close!”

  “Yes, uncle!”

  Drawing deeply on Aether, Tulka manifested a towering cape buffalo around himself, creating a blinding inferno of Arcane Light signaling everyone around him that he was from house Bovera.

  “FIGHT ME!” he bellowed, sword raised high.

  The young heir answered the challenge, inhaling sharply as Arcane Light flared around him.

  With a roar that caused the surrounding soldiers to flinch, the two rushed at each other, weapons held at the ready.

  Eye’s locked on his opponent’s spear, Tulka skillfully shifted his body just enough to the left to allow the razor-sharp edge of the spear to graze his cheek. Using the momentum of the two moving horses, he drove his sword straight into the heir’s chest.

  I don’t like plucking buds before they flower, but this is war, he thought.

  He tore his sword free and turned in time to see the corpse topple from its saddle, one leg tangled in the stirrups. The riderless horse dragged the lifeless body across the battlefield.

  “NOOOOOO!”

  Tulka turned towards the scream. From deep within the enemy lines, the second son of Lord Baura burst into view.

  “Uncle, I’ll handle him!” Kornel shouted, slamming his visor shut. Galloping past Tulka, he bellowed, his voice carrying across the field.

  “Viarop! Today, my family ends your bloodline! Come fight me!”

  “Kornel! I will kill you!” Viarop screamed in reply, tears streaming down his face. “Your family knows no honor! You dare set a trap in a duel of honor? Has House Bovera lost all shame? What of the warrior’s code? You are cowards!”

  “Pretty words from a broken house!” Kornel roared, pointing his sword at Viarop. “The winners decide how history is written. And history will not remember your house!”

  With a shout, both warriors charged at each other, weapons raised.

  Watching the two young men clash again and again, Tulka frowned. Their weapons were already starting to chip; the Aether coating them was unstable and uneven. They were still inexperienced. Shaking his head, he kept his attention on them as he moved around the battlefield, seeking out warriors wreathed in Arcane Light.

  He still had a job to do.

  Driving the tip of his sword into an enemy’s neck, he looked over, noticing his nephew’s chest heaving. Kornel’s free hand was clawing at his visor.

  “Control your breathing, boy!” Tulka shouted, realizing the danger. Kornel wasn’t exhaling hard enough—his breath was trapped within his helmet. He wasn’t getting fresh air! If this continued, he would black out!

  “Exhale hard!”

  “Yes, uncle,” Kornel gasped. The forceful exhale was barely audible even to Tulka’s enhanced hearing. But it did the job; Kornel’s movements became better.

  Satisfied, Tulka guided his horse through the chaos using only his legs, his weapons striking like lightning. Watching Kornel raise his sword and charge Viarop, he blinked in surprise as Viarop’s horse stumbled and threw the young lord violently to the ground.

  Sometimes luck counted more on a battlefield than skill.

  The crack of breaking bones and the terrified scream of the horse instantly vanished in the chaos of battle, the sound a drop in the bucket. Not giving his opponent time, Kornel jumped off his horse and sprinted to where Viarop was lying. Standing above the stunned warrior, he raised his sword, swinging it down as hard as he could. The blade whistled in the air before decapitating Viarop’s head in a single blow.

  The second son of Lord Baura had been defeated.

  Near the camps at the rear, Yansen fought back-to-back with his men. They were surrounded, blood and panic enveloping them like a suffocating fog. Snarling in rage, he kept his hands moving, the sword in his grip the only defense he had.

  Grunting in pain as a mounted soldier clipped him, he stumbled into Bolton—a man he’d grown up with.

  “Yansen, I got you!” Bolton gasped, catching Yansen before he fell.

  “Thanks,” Yansen managed, sweat dripping into his eyes. Drawing more Aether into his body, he shook off his exhaustion. “Who are they?” he asked, studying the attacker’s unfamiliar uniform.

  “I don’t know!” Bolton stammered, straining as hard as he could as he pushed an attacking soldier away—the unlucky man tumbling in front of a charging horse.

  “But they overran our camp before we had time to set up a defensive formation! How did they flank us?”

  “They have had help,” Yansen replied, kicking a soldier to the ground. “Someone who knows the land.”

  Another soldier fell—this time, an ally.

  Turning his head left then right, Yansen bellowed, his voice carrying far. “Circle up! Fight together! Don't falter! Stay with me!”

  Using his sword to parry a thrust from a spear, he tried to step back and found nowhere to go. Everyone was pressed against each other. Cursing, he continued to defend himself, the sensation of suffocation clawing at his mind. The air felt thin.

  “We need to break out!” he desperately shouted, trying to push his way out of the tight circle they were in. “Circling up was a bad idea. We can’t fight like this!”

  “I know!” Bolton replied, blood streaming down his face, “But if we break formation, we’ll lose most of our men!”

  “If we don’t, we all die!” Yansen snapped, his sword hacking helplessly against the wall of shields that was slowly forming around them. “We can’t fend off this assault!”

  “What do we do?” Bolton asked.

  Ria’s face flashed through Yansen’s mind. He hadn’t killed the man with the crescent scar yet.

  I can’t die here.

  Gulping, he made his decision.

  “We are breaking out. Follow me!”

  Rushing forward, Yansen grabbed a cavalryman by the belt. The startled horse reared, and Yansen rotated Aether through his body, ripping the rider free. He slammed the man to the ground and threw himself on top, his elbow crushing the man’s throat with a sickening crack.

  Snatching the reins of the riderless horse, he mounted in one fluid motion.

  “Retreat to Baura!” he shouted, waving his sword in the air. “We must warn Lady Dane! Stay with me! If you get left behind, you will die!”

  As one, the fighting soldiers shouted, their voices strained in effort.

  “Yes, Sir!”

  Carving a path as he rode, Yansen kicked his horse forward, his sword swinging wildly. Nerves and adrenaline gave him the strength needed to ignore the dying soldiers around him. The smell of death was everywhere.

  Screaming, he finally broke out of the encirclement.

  As he pointed his horse towards the lands of Baura, he heard a shout ring out from behind him.

  “YANSEN! COME FACE YOUR DEATH!”

  He looked back to see Kornel leading a group of cavalry, the newly risen sun reflecting off their bloodstained armor.

  “Keep moving!” Yansen shouted. “Ignore them!”

  They could not stop—they had to get out of this alive.

  As Yansen led his soldiers away, Kornel’s furious screams echoed from behind them, his voice chasing after him through the chaos.

  “COME BACK, COWARD! FACE ME!”

  Kicking a soldier who was in the way, Kornel howled in glee as he closed the distance, the infantry scrambling out of the way in panic as he charged. The ground between him and Yansen became free of obstacles!

  Locking eyes with the blood-crazed young lord, Yansen felt a chill run down his spine. He needed to get away! If he stopped to fight, they would be caught.

  Kicking his horse, he cursed as enemy soldiers blocked his path.

  Taking precious seconds to cut his way through, Yansen felt blood seep into his glove. Sometime during the flight, he had been cut. Looking up his arm, he saw a wound on his shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it was bleeding freely. Breathing hard, he kicked his horse, urging it onward.

  “YANSEN! DIE!”

  The shout made Yansen’s stomach drop like a stone. Kornel had caught up!

  Panic flooded into him as he glanced over his shoulder and saw Kornel raise his sword in the air. He was already next to him! The blade blurred as it sliced through the air.

  Yansen wrenched his body to the side as hard as he could, his mind crying out in horror as the sword whistled past his neck. Ria’s face flashed through his mind.

  Not yet.

  Clutching the horn of his saddle to keep from falling, Yansen swung blindly. The awkward motion caused his shoulder to pop with a sharp crack, red-hot pain exploding through him. He screamed, barely registering the moment the tip of his sword struck something before it was violently ripped from his now-limp hand.

  A scream filled with rage and agony erupted from Kornel as he tumbled from his horse, Yansen’s sword lodged deeply in his leg.

  The battlefield froze.

  “SAVE LORD KORNEL!” a hysterical cry split the sudden calm.

  Lord Bovera’s soldiers swarmed their fallen heir, abandoning their pursuit entirely.

  Yansen did not look back.

  Barely taking a moment to thank every god he knew, he single-mindedly rode hard towards the lands of Baura.

  “Keep moving! Keep moving!” he shouted. “As soon as they know Kornel is alive, they’ll ride us down! Keep moving!”

  “Yes, Sir!”