The moon hung low over the battlefield, red as a coal beneath ash. Thunder rolled above the trees. Smoke drifted through the driving rain, which ticked against dented shields before running through the ruts in the earth. The battle had begun in daylight. Now night had fallen, and neither army had enough soldiers left to claim victory.
The dead lay everywhere: soldiers from both armies in broken armor, archers tangled in their own bowstrings, and a fallen mace-bearer with his weapon half-buried in the mud. Beside a toppled shrine, a priest lay still with one hand curled around his prayer beads. He had spent the afternoon drawing wounded fighters back from death, until the opposing warlord had cut through the rear ranks to silence his healing prayers.
Near the shrine, the summoner struggled to remain standing. He pressed a trembling palm into the mud, and pale light threaded through the ground toward a shattered tree. Soil heaved upward. A lean, humanoid golem hauled itself from the earth, its limbs packed with soil and jagged stone. It braced its broad forearms against the ground, then rose upright, cracks glowing faintly with the summoner's magic.
At the shattered tree beside the ruined shrine, roots tore loose and braided around splintered branches, forming a low, four-legged beast with a bark-plated back and thornlike jaws. One hind leg formed crookedly, dragging behind it as the creature pulled free.
The summoner gasped, his cracked charm flickering at his throat. Holding both creatures together was already costing him strength he barely had. Beside him, an archer drew another arrow, tracking one of the three surviving enemy soldiers picking his way between the fallen.
The opposing army was nearly destroyed. Only those three soldiers and their commander remained standing. The samurai held the ground between them and the few allies who had survived the slaughter.
The swordsman near the shrine caught sight of movement beneath a broken shield and raised his blade over a wounded fighter. The archer's shot struck him in the shoulder before he could bring it down. He stumbled, and the root beast lunged low, catching his ankle in its tangled jaws. The earth golem drove him into the mud, where he did not rise.
Another soldier rushed the shrine. The beast tamer stepped away from his injured companion long enough to intercept him with a short spear. Their weapons locked; then the samurai closed the distance and struck the attacker down. The tamer retreated at once to the ridge, keeping his spear in hand and his beast behind him.
The last soldier hesitated.
He looked from his fallen comrades to the armored warlord advancing through the rain. Then he lunged at the samurai, perhaps hoping to earn his commander's notice. The samurai turned the blow aside and ended the fight with a single cut. No living soldiers remained between the survivors and the warlord.
The samurai's dark hair was tied high at the back of his head, though rain-soaked strands clung to his brow. A narrow scar split his left eyebrow. His eyes, almost black in the night, stayed fixed on the figure advancing through the smoke.
Blue-lacquered plates covered his shoulders and chest, layered over a charcoal robe. One shoulder guard hung loose, and the crimson cord at his waist had snapped free and trailed behind him.
The warlord held a long, heavy greatsword in one hand. He raised his free, gauntleted hand toward the storm, palm open. Lightning tore through the clouds and struck his palm, racing down his arm in brilliant, jagged streams. He brought that hand to the greatsword's hilt, and the charge spilled across the steel, wrapping the blade in crackling arcs of white light.
His armor was dull gray, fitted close to his body, and a strip of black cloth covered his mouth. Above it, pale eyes watched the samurai without blinking.
"Get the wounded behind the ridge!" the samurai shouted into the rain.
Somewhere beyond the smoke, someone might still be alive. No answer came, but he could not afford to stop looking for survivors.
Beyond the ruined shrine, the mage crouched beside a rain-filled trench. Her brown leather mantle was dark with water, and her hair was braided tight against her head. She planted her staff in the bank. Blue runes glimmered along the wood.
Farther back, the beast tamer leaned over his companion, keeping one hand on its shoulder. The creature stood nearly as tall as his chest, with the build of a hunting cat and a thick, smoke-gray mane. Small ivory horns swept back from its brow; dark scales shielded its neck and forelegs.
Its golden eyes fixed on the advancing enemy. It didn't cower or bare its teeth in panic. Instead, it stepped in front of the tamer, placing its body between him and the warlord.
The tamer's coat was patched leather over a mail shirt. Blood ran from a tear at his ribs, but he caught the creature by its harness and drew it back behind him, shielding its injured foreleg with his own body.
The summoner drew a shaky breath and pressed two fingers against the charm hanging at his throat. The small stone was cracked through its center. Each time one of his constructs moved, a dim pulse flickered inside it, as though something on the other end of an invisible thread was pulling at his heart.
"Don't force them any farther," the archer said. She had taken up position beside the shrine, where a broken pillar offered a little cover. "They're barely holding together."
"They're holding," he answered.
"That's not what I said, and you know it," she replied, her eyes narrowing.
He glanced at her. Beneath the mud streaking her face, she looked exhausted, but her bow remained steady. She had been counting his breaths between shots. He knew because every time he faltered, her eyes flicked toward him instead of the warlord.
A gust swept smoke across the shrine. Through it, the warlord advanced with his greatsword glowing white. The samurai moved to meet him, boots skidding on the soaked ground. Steel rang out once, then again. The greatsword drove him backward, its weight forcing his guard lower with each impact.
The mage thrust her staff forward. Mud rose in a ragged bank between the fighters, buying the samurai a heartbeat to retreat. The warlord cut through it. Wet earth scattered around his boots, and the lightning along his blade hissed in the rain.
Left!" the archer shouted.
The samurai shifted to his right and ducked. An arrow hissed past his left shoulder, striking the gap between two plates of the warlord's upper arm. The warlord glanced down at the shaft, snapped it off, and continued forward.
The archer reached for another arrow. Her quiver held only a few.
"You should save those," the summoner said, glancing towards her.
"For what?" she retorted, while glancing back towards him.
He had no answer. The battlefield had gone strangely quiet. There were no shouted orders from the ranks, no drums, no clash of armies— only rain, thunder, and the scrape of the warlord's boots through the mud.
The earth golem moved past the broken pillar, stones grinding softly as it stepped. The root beast stayed closer to its master, its malformed hind leg carving a furrow through the mud. Neither spoke. Their bodies held together only while the summoner fed them magic.
The archer watched the root beast struggle forward. "If you let them go, you might have enough strength to run."
"And leave him?" He nodded toward the samurai, who had barely turned another blow. "Leave all of them?"
She lowered her bow for the briefest moment. "I wasn't asking you to abandon anyone."
"Then you know why I'm staying."
A sharp crack split the air. The warlord's blade struck the samurai's guard, driving him to one knee. The beast tamer shouted from the ridge, and his horned companion took a step forward despite its injured leg. He caught the creature by the harness before it could charge.
The summoner raised his charm. Both constructs surged toward the warlord. The golem caught at his sword arm while the root beast lunged for his ankle, hauling its crooked leg behind it. The warlord wrenched his blade sideways, chipping stone from the golem's forearm, but the construct held its grip. Neither creature could bring him down, yet together they forced him to turn. The samurai rolled free and regained his feet.
For a moment, the summoner smiled. It was small and exhausted, but the archer saw it. "There," he said. "Still useful."
A tremor passed through his shoulders. The charm flashed and went dull. He swayed, and the archer stepped close enough to catch him by the elbow.
"Useful isn't the same as safe."
He pulled himself upright. "You sound like my mother."
"Then listen for once."
The attempt at humor faded as the warlord turned toward them. His pale gaze moved from the constructs to the charm, then to the hand trembling around it. He had found the source of their movement.
The archer noticed his attention shift. She stepped in front of the summoner and drew her bow to its full length. "Behind the pillar. Now."
The summoner obeyed only far enough to stand beside it. From there, he could still see the samurai and the mage struggling to hold the line. He closed his eyes and gave the constructs one final command: protect them.
Both creatures obeyed. The earth golem moved beyond the shrine to stand between the warlord and the mage, its broad stone arms raised to shield her. The root beast dragged its malformed hind leg through the mud toward the samurai, ready to harry the warlord if he attacked again.
The summoner's knees buckled, but he stayed upright with one hand against the stone.
The archer fired an arrow, the warlord turned his greatsword, deflecting the arrow with the flat of his blade. She fired again, this time aiming for his sword hand. He twisted his wrist, and the second arrow hissed past his gauntlet.
"Go!" she shouted at the summoner.
He looked at her, then past her to the survivors. His mouth opened, but the thunder swallowed whatever he meant to say.
The warlord stopped advancing. With the greatsword held in one hand, he lifted his free gauntlet toward the storm. Lightning struck his open palm, raced down his arm, and spilled across the blade when he brought his charged hand to the hilt.
The archer saw where the weapon was pointed. She loosed the last arrow in her quiver, but the warlord's sweeping strike had already begun.
A white arc tore toward the summoner beside the broken pillar. The archer threw herself behind the stone as he saw the attack coming. "Back!" he shouted, reaching toward his constructs.
The golem turned from the mage and lumbered toward him, while the root beast struggled back through the mud, dragging its crooked hind leg. Neither could close the distance. Lightning struck the summoner before they reached him.
He fell without a sound. The cracked charm slipped from his fingers and disappeared into the mud.
The constructs faltered before they could reach him. Pale light slipped from the seams of the golem's body, and it collapsed into loose earth and stone. The root beast broke apart into dead roots and splintered wood, its pieces sinking into the rain-soaked mud.
For one stunned heartbeat, the archer stared at the place where he had stood.