A short sword can easily beat an extra-long sword. The extra length hinders the warrior’s resolve and makes it easy to close in on and defeat him.

—Colbey Calistinsson

WAR CRIES, THREATS, SCREAMS, and the din of clashing steel gave way to the moans of the injured, conversation and sobs of sorrow, hopelessness, and outrage. Saviar, Subikahn, and Calistin examined the two enormous casualties they had forced the Kjempemagiska to abandon. Lying still, they did not seem quite so large, perhaps half again Saviar’s height and double his weight. Their boots looked like enormous replicas, the fabric of their jerkins woven with a closeness and skill that obviated the need for armor. The continental clothiers could never have matched the precision. An enormous, curved sword lay near one’s outflung hand and a second sword was half-buried beneath the other’s body.

Calistin had eyes only for the weapons. He hefted one of the swords, and it overbalanced him, forcing him to take several uncoordinated sidesteps to regain his equilibrium. Saviar stifled the urge to laugh. He had never seen his agile brother appear so graceless.

Subikahn tugged the other sword free, then liberated a utility knife from each of the dead Kjempemagiska. “We need to find someone who can wield these.”

“These?” Calistin examined the weapon in his own hands. “Who could? A solid sweep would put the wielder on his ass. The only way it could kill an enemy is if he died laughing.”

Saviar grinned. It was the closest he could remember Calistin coming to a joke.

But Subikahn did not, apparently, appreciate the humor. “They were forged by and kept with magical beings, which means they probably contain shadow magic. Like our special weapons . . .” He patted the hilt of the sword Calistin had given him. “. . . they will work against the giants. We need as many magic weapons in as many hands as possible.” He glanced around, brightening suddenly. “There’s Thialnir. He’s the biggest Renshai I know.”

Saviar knew he rivaled the leader of the Renshai for size, and his youth probably made him the stronger, but he kept the thought to himself. He already had a sword that functioned against the Kjempemagiska. He set to freeing his boots from beneath the body that had pinned him earlier.

The giant corpses had drawn many curious onlookers from every part of the combined armies, but the other Renshai arrived first as they were already close at hand from the battle. Subikahn scrambled toward Thialnir, but Calistin beat him, offering his prize to the leader of the Renshai.

“What’s this?” Thialnir asked suspiciously, though he surely knew the source of the weapon.

“Can you wield it?” Subikahn asked as Thialnir accepted it from Calistin’s hand.

Thialnir gave the curved sword a mighty swing as others dashed out of his way, granting him a wide berth. “Not as well as my own. Why would I want to?”

Subikahn repeated his explanation as Thialnir lowered the blade, testing the balance in both hands, ending with, “The weapons sanctified by the elves can cut the giants, but only with great difficulty. These . . .” With effort, he raised the massive sword in his own hand. “. . . work like regular weapons on them.”

Thialnir reached for the other Kjempemagiska sword. “Do you mind if I take them both? I’m headed to the commanders’ meeting, and I imagine Captain Galastad can find an unusually large Béarnide who might find use for the other one.”

As he pulled on his boots, feet and legs restoring the crushed leather to its proper shape, Saviar nodded agreement. No people on the continent came naturally bigger than Béarnides, and they had to have a few who made even Griff and himself look small. “You might consider my father, too. Tae gave him a giant’s utility knife; but, knowing him, he probably handed it off to someone he considered more skilled with a sword.”

Saviar hopped to his feet, appreciating that he no longer had to fight barefooted with sticks, rocks and debris stabbing and bruising his soles. “Give him one of these, and he’ll have no one to pass it off to. Meanwhile, we’ll see if we can find some takers for their knives . . .” He jerked his thumb toward the bodies, now being swarmed with examiners. “. . . among the Renshai. They refused previously when Subikahn’s father offered similar ones; but, now that they’ve had a chance to notch their current weapons against our enemies’ iron hides, they may change their minds.”

Thialnir juggled the enormous swords, then headed into the thick of the armies. Unlike most of the commanders, he did not need to assess the situation or rally his troops with promises or sanguine speeches. Renshai gave their all to every battle; they knew no other way. They would eagerly plunge into any war, no matter their odds, and fight to their dying breaths. Thialnir knew his people would handle any casualties with proper dignity, would tend the salvageably wounded and dispatch any Renshai who sustained fatal injuries in a way that allowed them the glory of Valhalla. At the moment, nothing else mattered.

By the time Knight-Captain Kedrin arrived, nearly all the other officers were already gathered in a selected clearing at the edge of the woodlands, beyond the infantry and cavalry. They had learned to treat one another with distinction and respect, no matter the title. Some places had multiple generals, others a single general with lieutenants or captains beneath him, while still more, like Béarn and Erythane, reserved the title of general for their kings, regardless of whether or not they served in combat.

Though only titled captain, Galastad of Béarn’s infantry took the lead role in Griff’s absence. He was an enormous man with a tight-cut mop of curly black hair and a bristling beard. Only Kedrin, Valr Magnus, and Thialnir came close to him for height, but he carried significantly more weight than any of them. Kedrin noted that only eight of the nine tribes of Northmen were represented. General Elgar of the Erdai was notably missing.

For the Westlands, Erythane had Kedrin as well as Hansah, ranking lieutenant over the infantry and regular cavalry. General Sutton of Santagithi had gathered several smaller towns under his command, nearly all the ones spanning the area between his own city and massive Pudar, which was under the authority of the experienced and skilled General Markanyan. Nearly all the other villages and hamlets of the West had added soldiers to the armies of Béarn, Erythane, Pudar, or Santagithi rather than attempt to form a command structure of their own. Notably absent from the West was a representative for the twin cities. They had come to the war outraged and insistent on taking the front and center positions. Now, it appeared, few if any remained.

The entire Eastlands had united under a single general, Halcone. Kedrin knew the East divided their army into multiple units under several lieutenants, including a Renshai named Talamir who had served as Subikahn’s torke while he lived with his father. Only General Halcone attended this meeting, and Kedrin felt sure the other officers were handling the necessities: the dead, the injured, the dispirited. Weile Kahn also hovered in the background. He claimed no title, yet no one suggested he did not belong.

The oldest of the elves, known simply as Captain, came to the meeting as well, accompanied by an elderly mage from Myrcidë called Jeremilan. Rumor claimed the elf was as old as the gods themselves, though the mage looked more the part. He walked without assistance, yet he appeared terribly frail, his skin grotesquely wrinkled, his gray eyes faded, his fingers gnarled. It appeared as if a strong wind might scatter him into dust, swirling away the bits until nothing remained. Captain, on the other hand, seemed as ageless and timeless as most elves, his amber eyes canted and strange but also clear and bright.

Captain Galastad of Béarn took command, as the situation warranted. “It appears we are all in attendance. Having spoken with each and every one of you, aside from Knight-Captain Kedrin . . .” There was a bare hint of displeasure that Kedrin might have missed if it had not referenced his own conduct. He had been the last to arrive, but only because his position required certain formalities the others did not. Although he had experienced no casualties, he had assisted the other units with their own. He considered claiming the floor for an apology but saw the irony of such a thing. Doing so would only waste more time, presumably the reason Galastad was rebuking him in the first place.

Galastad continued, “I regret to inform you that we have taken significant casualties, upward of a tenth of our warriors. There has been a near devastation of the Erdai, including General Elgar, and of the army of the twin cities of the West which had already suffered the full loss of its home force and civilians.”

Murmurs followed. Several whispered fervent prayers, although Kedrin was not one of them. He had never turned to the gods before, and it seemed hypocritical to start doing so now.

“The enemy has also taken some losses, which we estimate at one tenth of a percent of their total force.”

Kedrin did some quick math. There were two dead Kjempemagiska, which meant the general estimated them at two thousand strong, about the same number as the casualties on their own side.

“Obviously, we need to deviate somewhat from our present strategy. We have some new facts to facilitate that process. First, we now know that, though the enemy considers us wholly expendable, they don’t have the stomach to tolerate casualties of their own. The first death caused them to stop fighting. The second came as a result of trying to retrieve the body, and it sent them into retreat.”

“Are they gone?” asked General Sutton of Santagithi, with small hope in his tone.

Captain Galastad of Béarn responded, “Unfortunately, no. Captain of the elves assures me they have not gone far. They’re regrouping and, probably, changing their tactics as well.”

General Markanyan of Pudar demanded, “Do our scouts have anything to report?”

Galastad glanced at Weile, who currently seemed to control most of the worthwhile spying information.

Weile stepped from the shadows. “They could come at us again at any moment. I can guarantee us only a half of an hour of warning. They are conversing aloud but in a tongue no one knows, and as I understand it, they have a mind-language as well.”

Galastad now acknowledged Captain with a wave. “Can you decipher that?”

Captain remained close to the woodlands, as if he might flee at any moment. “We can’t hear it, either, General. We might have magic that could make it audible, but we barely have the numbers and strength to contain their offense. If we start throwing chaos around, we risk not having it when it’s urgently needed. As it is, we’re not preventing the small, healing magics they’re using right now in order to conserve our strength.”

Thialnir of the Renshai stepped in. “Can we afford to allow them to heal their injuries? Doesn’t it mean they can keep coming at us full force?”

The general of the Northern Gelshni spoke next, though Kedrin could not recall his name. “As it is, the elfin magic isn’t working. Our weapons are worthless against them.”

“Not worthless,” Thialnir argued. “They cut. It just takes a lot more force than one might expect. You have to sweep hard and true, put weight and muscle behind the potentially lethal targets, drive in and don’t give up until the job’s done.”

General Sutton shook his head. A clever strategist, he saw the problems immediately. “That’s fine for large, experienced warriors, but I’ve got an awful lot of citizen soldiers who are becoming tired and discouraged. Does anyone have a problem with moving up the cavalry before the next strike? I don’t think hunting down men who break through the ranks will be the issue here, especially considering the thickness of the forest and brush surrounding the battlefield.” He turned toward the elfin Captain, though this put his back to Captain Galastad. “Given the giants’ reaction to casualties, it’s my considered opinion that we need to put our strongest forces at the edges of the forest. They surely know it’s the elves keeping them from standing a safe distance from our weapons and wiping us out with magic.”

Galastad nodded sagely. “As you must realize, the battlefield was well-chosen to keep our users of magic safe. We’re all but surrounded by dense woodlands, leaving our enemy only one opening for attack. The elves don’t have the same difficulties the giants, or even we, would have moving around the forest.”

“Understood,” General Sutton replied. “But I’m still concerned the giants might focus attacks on the front edges of the forest. With their enormous swords, they might take down enough trees to make some headway. We need to slow them down so our users of magic have time to safely retreat without losing control. If the elves and mages drop their spell negating the enemy’s magic, we’re all doomed.”

Galastad took the information under advisement. “Are we all agreed on moving the cavalries to the fore and fortifying the edges of the forest?”

Several “ayes” and no “nays” greeted the proposal, so he continued, “To that end, I’d like to put the Renshai on the southwest corner at the forest edge, Béarn’s army beside them, then Santagithi and allies, with Pudar toward the center. On the northwest corner at the forest edge the Knights of Erythane, then Erythane’s main forces, and the various Northern armies in whatever order they please. The Eastland armies will fill the second rank, along with the citizen soldiers and smaller armies I might have missed.”

Valr Magnus stepped up. “The Aeri will take the central position, beside Pudar.” It was a brave stance given that, during the previous assault, the forces in the middle had been all but destroyed.

No one, including Kedrin, argued with the suggested positions. He considered Santagithi the greatest general in history, and Sutton seemed to have all the strategic instincts of the man for whom his town was named. The Knights of Erythane would have a difficult time, and he prepared himself for the inevitable loss of men.

As the fighting forces seemed settled, Captain Galastad of Béarn turned his attention to Captain and Jeremilan. “Are we still strong on the magical front?”

Jeremilan spoke first. “I’m afraid the Mages of Myrcidë must withdraw from the battle. It’s become far too dangerous, and we can’t spare a single life.”

The words sparked immediate outrage. Every eye went to Jeremilan, who seemed to further whither under the intense scrutiny.

Jeremilan had no choice but to explain, “For centuries, I have kept our presence secret from the world, yet our numbers have still remained dangerously low. Our bloodline is priceless and unique. We should never have come.”

Captain Galastad approached the situation with remarkable control and caution, given that Jeremilan had just announced his intention to commit wholesale treason, a betrayal that probably condemned the entire continent to quick and brutal murder. “Do you not understand that this is the last, best hope for all of us, including your people? Have you heard what happened to Corpa Schaul? To Frist? Standing together, we may still lose, but failure is certain standing alone. Not only will you render our situation more difficult, probably impossible, you will doom yourselves as well.”

Jeremilan drew himself up as well as he could, though it did little more than stress the huge difference between the captain’s height and his own. “We successfully hid for centuries. We can do so again.”

“No.” Weile Kahn’s single word, though soft, was emphatic. “You have a contract to honor.”

Jeremilan jerked his attention to the Easterner. “What good is a contract if we’re all dead? The agreement included a promise that we would be fully protected. We had the right to terminate the contract if any mages came to serious harm.”

Galastad asked the obvious question. “Have they?”

“No,” Jeremilan admitted. “But it is inevitable.”

Weile stepped in again, “You were unfound for centuries because you hid yourselves in magic and we had no reason to look for you. These Kjempemagiska are magical beings. If you leave, and we fall, they will hunt you down and destroy you to a man, woman or child.”

“I believe we can stay hidden.”

“I hadn’t finished.” Weile’s voice remained calm, steady. “If you leave, and I survive, I will hunt you down and destroy you to a man, woman, or child.”

A chill spiraled through Kedrin. He suspected that, if Weile Kahn wanted a man dead, his life was as good as forfeit.

Jeremilan whirled to face Weile. Even as he moved, he was suddenly surrounded by dark men in black who seemed to materialize from the shadows.

Though his gemlike eyes seemed to take in everything, the elves’ Captain demonstrated no fear. He spoke gently, as if the threat, both real and verbal, had not occurred. “I’m afraid we need every being with magical abilities to assist. It’s taxing us to the limit already. I’ve called for elfin backup, but I don’t know how many more elves we can enlist. Even if I could get all of us, and that’s unlikely nearly to the point of impossibility, we’d still be outnumbered ten to one.” He paused, allowing the effect of his words to sink in before heaping on more dire information.

No one spoke while waiting for Captain to continue, though Weile’s men did fade back out of sight. “It’s only the Kjempemagiska’s decision to focus on physical as well as magical combat that’s allowed us to keep them in check thus far. If they focused solely on magic, hit us with one mighty blast, it’s possible . . .” Captain stood still for several moments, showing no inclination to finish his sentence.

At length, Galastad prodded. “What’s possible, Captain? What would happen?”

A hint of something entered Captain’s voice. Though he could not pinpoint it exactly, Kedrin compared it to awe. “I’m not entirely sure. Two great and desperate forces of chaos slamming into one another . . . the backlash would be tremendous . . . it could . . . it might . . .” He shook his head, then lowered it in deep consideration. Kedrin wondered how long it took someone as old as the world to locate specific memories for comparison. Captain started again. “It’s liable to cause a cataclysmic explosion.”

Galastad asked the question on everyone’s mind. “How . . . cataclysmic?”

In answer, Captain only shrugged. “Difficult to predict.”

General Sutton asked the question on every mind. “What can we do to prevent it? And if not prevent it, survive it?”

Captain sucked in a deep breath. “The best thing you can do is win this war. The fewer the Kjempemagiska, the weaker their combined magic and the less chaos we need to call forth to counteract it, the safer we all become.” He looked around and, apparently noting the horror on nearly every commander’s face, he added, “We’re working on it, trying to find ways to redirect the excess energy and mitigate the damage. Believe me, the elves have more to fear from losing lives than anyone else here.” He added pointedly, “Including Jeremilan.”

Although most of the commanders did not know what Captain meant, Kedrin did. Humans, including the Myrcidians, could repopulate so long as one of each gender survived. The Knight of Erythane saw the danger in plying Captain with too many questions. “Please, accept our thanks for everything you’ve done so far as well as anything you might do to save as many human lives as possible.” Kedrin made certain to include Jeremilan with his attention and gestures. “I admit to knowing little more about magic than most humans, but I certainly know that the two of you and your followers are our only means of preventing the enemy from wiping us out with a catastrophic spell. But if you’re here speaking with us, who is monitoring the Kjempemagiska?”

“We’re fine at the moment,” Captain reassured Kedrin and the many others who had surely considered the same question. “Right now, the Kjempemagiska are using minor magics, mostly of the healing variety. If they attempt offensive types of magic, we can throw the shield up in an instant.”

General Markanyan of Pudar tossed out, “Given the difficulty we’re having, shouldn’t we reconsider blocking their healing as well?”

Sutton added, “Do we have access to healing magic, too?”

“Yes.” Captain looked at Markanyan, then Sutton, “and yes. There’s a balance, however. We’re tying our chaos energy to theirs. If we prevent them from any castings, we deprive ourselves of the same ability; and, right now, attempting to recruit more elves and securing an escape route take precedence. As for healing, many of us have that capability. However, every elf or mage we spare for healing is one less weaving the defensive net.”

Kedrin could not help running with the information. It seemed immoral to allow men to suffer and die when others might heal them. If any of his two dozen knights became injured, he would want them to get the best care possible. The agony of knowing the elves could have saved a brave warrior who died or became permanently damaged would haunt him for eternity, yet he would not risk everyone in order to demand the magical ministrations of elves or mages.

Weile called out suddenly, “The enemy’s on the move.” Kedrin turned, but the Easterner had already disappeared from sight.

Galastad raised an arm. “Meeting adjourned. Set up your forces as discussed, and may all the gods go with us.”

In the king’s quarters on the topmost floor of Béarn Castle, Tae relayed the information he had received from Mistri’s father to the king and queen of Béarn, Darris, and Seiryn, the captain of the castle guards. Imorelda perched on Tae’s shoulders, and Mistri ran around the exquisite antique furnishings squealing with delight at the sight of the carved bears. No one argued Tae’s need to return the girl to her father, only the means of doing so.

Matrinka paced, knotting her fingers in front of her. “Tae, it’s just too risky for you to go alone.”

“I won’t be alone,” Tae reassured her for what felt like the fifth or sixth time. “I’ll have Mistri and Imorelda.”

“And a Renshai,” Griff inserted for what was, definitely, the first time.

Tae’s gaze flicked back to the king. His first instinct, to argue, passed quickly. It seemed like the perfect compromise. The presence of a warrior would ease Matrinka’s concerns, and Tae could explain away a single companion as opposed to a band of guardsmen. “Fine,” Tae said, then added quickly, “so long as it isn’t—”

“Rantire,” Griff asserted. “You will take Rantire.”

Tae glanced at Darris who was smiling so broadly he was practically laughing. “Sire, please. Name any other Renshai.”

“Rantire,” Griff explained as if Tae had not spoken, “is the only Renshai in Béarn with a weapon capable of inflicting damage on those giants. As a Renshai would rather loan out his eyes than his sword, there’s no choice in the matter. Promise you will take Rantire with you.”

Tae knew trickery would not save him this time. He sighed and nodded. Rantire was fierce, intense, and loyal in the extreme, but she was not stupid. She would not act impulsively, and her extreme dedication arose from a promise to the son of Colbey and Freya that she would keep Griff safe, not Tae. “Fine. I will take Rantire with me.”

Mistri tugged at Tae’s sleeve. “Poppy talking. Want to know if we coming.”

*Imorelda, please. Take me back to Kjempemagiska level.*

Imorelda dug a claw into the top of Tae’s shoulder but gave no other sign of reluctance. A moment later, Kentt’s mind-voice filled his head. *How much longer?*

Tae understood his impatience. *We’re leaving now.* He said aloud in Common Trading, “I need to get going. Call Rantire and have her meet me at the door.”

Matrinka seized both of Tae’s wrists and stared into his eyes. “You won’t leave without her.” It was not a question.

They both knew Tae could slip away, through any window, before Rantire could think to look for him. He looked into Matrinka’s dark eyes, so soft and kind, and knew he could never lie to her. “I will not leave without Rantire.”

Matrinka released him, and he turned his mind back to his inaudible conversation. *I’ll have a woman with me as well as Mistri and my . . . * He did not know the Kjempemagiska’s word for “cat.” * . . . pet. It’s furry, striped, and small enough to sit on my shoulders.* Tae appreciated that Imorelda did not speak the foreign tongue. Though neutral, she would not have liked his description of her. *Are you accompanied?* Tae could not believe he had not considered such a significant question sooner.

Again, Kentt hesitated. Tae wondered if he was composing a lie or simply did not wish to give away more information than necessary.

Tae pressed, *I’m coming to you in good faith, without an army at my back, though you could probably crush me with one hand. I’m returning your daughter unharmed and in good spirits after saving her from drowning. Surely, that earns me some basic honesty, perhaps even a bit of respect.*

*I’m alone,* Kentt sent.

Tae believed him. Spying often required it, even in the most dangerous situation. Even with the illusory ships as cover, Tae doubted two giants could have sneaked ashore. He took Mistri’s hand and headed out the door.

Matrinka’s voice floated through the crack before it disappeared, “Good luck, Tae. And, for once in your life, be careful.”