FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"From dark, cold skies and screaming storm

From constant strife, no compassion done.

From rolling mist devoid of form

We have come; from there we have come.

To lightened skies and gentle breeze

To colours bright and a warming sun.

To a tender touch and love-filled eyes

We have come; to here we have come.

Now the winds go their separate ways:

Return to greatness, but endless woes,

Or warmth and love, but broken ties?

Now we choose; which wind must we choose?

On each wind we will gain, on each we will lose!

Yet we must choose, which wind must we choose?"

Translation of the 'Call to Battle', a song said to have been sung by the Lumor Rebels as they prepared for their first battle against Juinkarr.

---

"We are losing ground!" the largest of the orc chiefs present roared angrily, rounding on the pale blue draine who was sitting calmly below an overhang, watching the elves pour over the crumbling bridge. True, with the help of her dragons and the new tactics she employed in combining the efforts of the air and ground forces, they had managed to secure the old castle ruin and push the elves far enough back that the great port to the east was truly under pressure for only the third time in the twenty years they had been at war. But now she was giving all that territory away, for nothing!

"I've noticed," she replied dryly, ignoring him and preferring to keep a watchful eye on the proceedings by the crossing. The dramatic way in which the Lumors and their riders had recaptured the old fortress had shocked even her, but it may have played to her advantage as the elves seemed eager to prove their worth as well, rushing blindly into the trap she had set. She had initially hoped to weaken their strength with an unnecessarily long siege, but this recklessness by the elven army suited her even better. Of course, she also had the mistress's informants amongst the elves to thank for the poor discipline in the opposing army, but even so, the plan was moving forward beautifully.

"We need to strengthen our centre!" the angry chief snarled, stepping threateningly towards the infuriating creature. His clan was the most recent addition to the horde, but how it was that the others followed her lead blindly was beyond him. Yes, she had introduced herself of the Claw of the Master, but she was much too young for such a role and the only female Umbrin for a hundred miles around as well. "We cannot afford the elves to just take another crossing! We cannot just abandon ground orcs have spilt blood for!"

"Your objections have been heard," she continued in the same, uninterested drone.

"And what are you going to do about it then?" the irritating chief challenged her.

"Nothing," the draine insisted, still without so much as looking around at him. "We are not ready!"

"Like hell we are!" the orc snarled. He turned to a nearby subordinate, motioning with his serrated sword towards where the elven commander could just be seen through the trees. "Send in the rest of our forces and focus all our attention on their commander! Chief Ourull..."

"Hold that order!" Ikessa snapped with a dangerous growl, finally turning her attention fully onto the fuming orc. Her frill raised sharply as she regarded him, quivering in irritation and the dragons around her started edging as unnoticed as possible away from her. Even the two males she had assigned as lieutenants and on occasion has even taken as mates seemed worried. Yet, the focus of her agitation didn't seem to heed the warning signs. That, or he was so self-assured that he did not consider this … girl to be any real threat.

"I warned you that I will not allow the elves any more room!" the orc chief snapped as well, going so far as to level the tip of his sword at her. "Not the way you simply watch on as they retook the castle! No self-respecting..."

"I am the Claw of the Master!" Ikessa hissed, slowly getting to her feet like a stalking leopard. "You will do as I say!"

"And since when does the Master give back ground gained at great cost, you stupid liza-..."

The chief never completed his insult. Ikessa pounced on of him with blinding speed, swiping his sword from his hand even as she knocked him over. He had barely landed on his back when her other paw struck as well, delivering a mortal blow to his chest. But even though the insubordinate chief would never be getting up again, she continued to follow through with a bite to his throat. She growled to reaffirm her absolute control of the battle, as his struggles diminished and only let him go once he had gone completely limp. She spat his out with a disgusted snarl and turned a bloody snout to the subordinate he had addressed only a moment before.

"You are his heir, am I correct?" she hissed lowly, a scary calm to her voice.

"Yes... yes, my lady," the younger orc stammered, unable to resist taking a step back.

"Then if you want to take command of your heritage, you will do as I say!" Ikessa stated, keeping her gaze fixed on him long enough for him to nod worriedly before she turned back to looking at the bridge again. "We will keep to the plan and strike when it is to our advantage! Remember I'm not here to win your battles, but to fight a much bigger war. At stake is the rise of Juinkarr itself."

"Yes... yes, my lady!" the orc stammered again, glad not to be the focus of her attention anymore. "As the Master commands."

The draine ignored him, daring to step out from under the cover of the overhang to get a better view of the far side of the river. The elves were still streaming across the Echoren river, though it seemed that most of their forces were being engaged. The informant it seems has kept his end of the agreement.

"Report!" she snapped, switching from black speech to draconic. "How do things stand?"

"The main elvan army is pushing into the weak spot as expected," Harkor stated, the dark brown drake stepping up next to her. "The easy successes we gave them have made them overconfident and they are moving forward recklessly. In fact, most of them are already over the river." He reached forward, licking a splatter of blood from her snout, but she pulled away with a growl.

"This is no time for that!" she berated him, though she had to do so through a satisfied purr. With a snort at herself, she stepped even further from their hiding spot to look up at the sky. "And their aerial support?"

"The gryphons are discovering our decoy group of dragons," Harkor replied with a smirk, though it if was at the thought of outwitting the jigsaws or Ikessa's determination at staying focused, he was not sure himself. "As ordered, our dragons are not giving proper battle and just keeping their focus to the south. We are in a bit of luck as they are not even trying to reach the Lumors for assistance, surprisingly enough. It makes me wonder if there is not some kind of rivalry between them."

"One of the mistress's contacts mentioned that the Lumors are rather despised by the gryphons," Ikessa confirmed with a thoughtful nod as if the information had played a role in the design of the plan. "Something about not staying on the peninsula after the Seghrien's siege. Speaking of which, what are they up to?"

"They are still holding the positions they captured higher up the Echoren," her other lieutenant, quickly stated. Fernel stepped up to her as well but stared out to the north with a scowl as if the iridescent black-blue drake could see their rivals. "One of their squads is patrolling in the area, but they are not pushing their surveillance much further east, so they won't be finding us before it is too late. Other than there is nothing to report."

"Are you sure they will respond as expected when we spring our trap?" Harkor asked, sounding worried for the first time since they had come to the forest last year. "They will not try to flee when everything falls apart?"

"They are bound to their word," Ikessa stated confidently. "They must come to the aid of the elves or be kicked out of the Amber Tower and become vulnerable to us again. Either way, we get what we want."

There was a short, awkward silence as they watched the last of the elven units start to cross over the bridge. Behind them, the Varanidae started to secure the nearside banks on either side of the bridge.

"My lady!" one of the other orc chiefs appealed to her, flinching when she turned to regard him with a scowl. "As commanded, I have come to inform you that most of the enemy has already crossed the river, and they have started to secure the river bank on our side. But I must beg of you, we must do something..."

"Good!" Ikessa hissed excitedly. "Thank you, chief Gurroth! The time to act has come."

With a sharp bark, she called the four other chieftains closer. But where she had seemed uncaring about what was going on before, she now was full of nervous energy as she gave her orders.

"Right then," she announced, glaring at the five orcs before her with an intensive gaze that promised a quick death if her word was not obeyed with speed. "I want groups two and three to secure the river again." She singled the two responsible chieftains out and snapped her jaws at them for emphasis. "I can't stress this enough: It is important to engage the main elvan army as little as possible until you have linked up with each other. I don't want them to realize what is going on and have time to escape back across the river before the trap has closed! Only once you have the river again, may you push the elvan stragglers into the backs of their comrades. The important this is that I want you to make sure not to allow anyone to cross the river again. In either direction!

"Groups four and five!" She turned the same intense glare at two more chieftains. "Go and assist group one to halt the elves. But make sure your warriors wrap around their flanks to the northeast and southeast. Once the elvan army is properly surrounded, crush them on all fronts. I don't want them to have room to swing their arms, Understood?"

"Yes, lady Ikessa!" the five orcs grumbled, obviously not happy at having to follow orders like this but not willing to defy her either. Not after what had happened to their strongest warrior only minutes ago.

"Good," Ikessa purred dangerously. "Now go and destroy them!"

"What about the gryphons and dragons they have?" one orc, the one who had just been promoted to chieftain asked. He flinched again when Ikessa turned to regard him, even though her gaze was not as hard as it had been only moments before.

"That is why we are here," she stated flatly. "My dragons are already keeping the gryphons at bay. And we will deal with the Shameblood's forces once he makes his move."

The orcs bowed sharply and turned to carry out their orders. Ikessa watched them rush off eagerly, wondering if it was because they were eager to fight the elves or to escape her.

"Shameblood?" Fernel asked, chuckling to himself at the fitting title. "Does that refer to their leader or all the traitors in general?"

"The Lúg'hir himself!" Ikessa stated with a forced sigh, trying to ignore the irritating amusement the black-blue drake was getting from the term. If he wasn't so good at what he did, she'd have gotten rid of the annoying lieutenant long ago.

"Why Shameblood?" Harkor asked with a frown.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest!" Ikessa replied after a moment's thought. "It was what the previous Claw had called him. But I guess that it is because he is the last descendant of the great traitor."

"Makes sense, I guess," Harkor conceded the point.

"I think there is more to it," Fernel replied with an ugly grin, always eager to belittle the Lumors in any way he could. He had a special loathing towards the Lúg'hir, ever since he had to admit that the iridescent black-green drake was also a descendant from Gullivarth. "We all know what they allow clutchmates to do, what they do with their own offspring... "

"That could never be proven!" Harkor snapped, rounding on the irritating younger drake. "Now be quiet and do your job!"

"As always, old man!" Fernel sneered with fake respect, though he knew better than to disobey. Swallowing his mirth, he looked on as the orcs started to press forward again. "Are you sure this will work?"

"Nothing is sure, especially in war!" Ikessa stated, ignoring how the vow flared up brightly in her chest again. "But the Shameblood dies today, or he will not be able to show his face anywhere on Selebore ever again!"

***

"Is something wrong, Farriha?" Merec asked suddenly when he noticed her frown, breaking the mirth of the moment.

"I... I don't know," Farriha admitted, sounding extremely unsure of herself. Then adding below her breath, she added "What are the elves doing?"

The group looked unsurely at the river crossing again, not sure what was bothering the draine do badly. They were on the brink of an easy victory again, were they not?

"I don't see anything wrong?" Gahntuar dared to comment. "We've captured a large section of the western riverbank and the bridge comfortably. And we are pushing quickly westward..."

"That is what is worrying me," Farriha admitted exasperatedly. "They've secured the side of the river we attacked from and have sufficient numbers on the bridge as well. But now they are moving too quickly and not securing their flanks on the opposite side..."

"I doubt you can move too quickly!" Audenier scoffed, still chuckling at the thought of the gryphons running into trouble. "The orc centre has collapsed, as usual, putting pressure on the other orcs still trying to resist our advance. When the elves punch cleanly through, they can double back and attack the part of the horde still trying to make a stand from behind as well."

"I... guess," Farriha conceded unsurely. "But I don't like this salient they are forming... um the... the bulge into the orc formations!"

"I cannot see why!" Audenier declared confidently. "The sooner they cross the river, the sooner we can face the real horde to the east. I for one can't wait until we can show these self-important idiots what we are truly capable of!"

"Hear-hear!" Charl agreed enthusiastically. The dragons and riders laugh again in high spirits as they watched yet another boring elvish victory unfold in the valley below them. Even as he was speaking, a far-off orcish horn sounded forlornly, as it called the order to fall back to a more defensible position.

All that is, except for Farriha who still could not shake the sudden feeling of dread at what was to come. Hopefully, it was just her nerves flaring up with all this talk of the main battle to come in a few days. She sat up, unable to relax as she continued to study the bridge. She knew something was wrong, but she could put her focus on whatever was the matter.

"Are the elves committing all their forces?" she asked as the last units started to cross the bridge. "Who gave that order?"

"Why would we care what they do?" Audenier sighed, though he did perk up in interest when he noticed Gahntuar also taking keen interest suddenly.

"One of his commanders, I guess?" Merec hazarded a guess, looking back west across the river to try and catch a glimpse of the group of commanders. Not that he had a chance to identify anything from this distance.

"At least the lizards and deer have already started to set up defensive positions on either side of the bridge," Gahntuar commented as he turned away to stand by his rider, already bored with the elves' progress. "I guess they intend to station their reserves there?"

"I... guess...?" Farriha muttered, not yet convinced as she continued to keep an eye on the bridge. The elves knew what they were doing, after all, she should give them credit where it was due. Right?

"How do you think we will fight the final battle?" Jerielle asked, trying to lift the mood again. "I doubt there will be little forts for us to take, so the elves have to deploy us in more useful positions!"

"It depends where we meet the main horde," Aerhin commented when Farriha didn't reply. "I think the terrain will be very similar to this, but we will not be crossing a river again."

"We will be moving away from the mountains," Merec commented. "Though we will still be in the forest, the field of battle will be much wider, and the armies will try to outflank each other. If the Field-Marshal still doesn't..."

"No-no-no!" Farriha suddenly squeaked worriedly, her crest standing erect in distress.

"What's wrong?" Merec asked quickly, turning to look at the upset draine. She did not respond, staring at the bridge in horror. Merec spared a glance towards it, but it was too far for him to see properly what was going on and he had not been paying that part of the battle much attention, so he could not immediately see what was wrong. "Farriha?" he repeated a little firmer, but she did not seem to register he was talking to her. "Lúr'her Farriha!"

Farriha seemed to snap back to the present as the human called her by her title.

"The corridor is collapsing!" she snapped, jumping to her feet. For a moment it seemed that she wanted to jump into the air, but she quickly caught herself, rounding on Gahntuar instead. "If... if it closes completely, the main part of the army will be trapped and surrounded!"

Now knowing what to look for, Merec realized that the orcs were indeed rallying near the river, pressing in hard from both sides. The horn they had heard earlier was not an order to retreat, but for a well-prepared counterattack to begin. The orcs still had a hard fight ahead of them to recapture the bridge, but they were making progress much too fast for most of the ground units to respond in time.

"If the First Army is destroyed, the horde will be able to swarm across most of Ealyndore unopposed!" Aerhin gasped worriedly as he came to stand next to Merec. Indeed, the entire counsel was now focusing intensely on the bridge, all idle relaxation and mirth gone.

"Where are the gryphons?" Merec asked quickly, risking a glance south. "The tigers, the lions? Everyone?"

"The gryphons are still out of sight to the south!" Jerielle reported, staring in the mentioned direction. "They will not be aware of what is going on here!"

"It looks like the Varanidae and Cervidae are trying to do something," Gahntuar commented, squinting down to the bridge. "They should be able to stabilize..." Even as the black drake was speaking, a group of trolls managed to break through the first lines of defences, pushing through onto the bridge itself and causing carnage.

"Not with those around!" Farriha snapped appalled.

Merec reacted quickly, indicating to Gahntuar with an urgent tap to the shoulder that the dragon needed to allow him to get into the saddle. As the drake crouched down dutifully, Jerielle and Audenier quickly followed suit. The excitement of maybe seeing battle properly for a change when they reached the main horde had been completely replaced by a deep worry of what was transpiring below them.

Merec had barely started to link his harness onto Gahntuar's saddle when Farriha barked an upset curse, one loud and crude enough to make the entire Battlewing with them look up in shock at them. He didn't need to look to know what had upset her, but he did anyways and even though he had expected it, he felt his heart drop.

Even from this distance, he could see that the corridor had collapsed.

And the allies of the elves who were trying to hold onto the bridge were slowly losing ground to the ferocious onslaught.

"Lúg'her Audenier!" Merec snapped determinedly. "Get them up! Lúg'her Farriha, go to the other outpost and fetch the Battlewing there! Have Roccan'gon Steivan and Lúg'gon Ethiene leave one squad to watch the fort! And go gather up your scouts!"

"Sir!" Farriha acknowledged the order and quickly jumped into the air as the riders were finishing up their equipment.

"Lúgroccae!" the blue drake called out even before his human was properly secured. "Saddle up!"

There was a flurry of excited movements as the Lúgroccae jumped to action, immediately sensing that their moment to show their mettle had finally come. One or two made a snide remark of finally being needed as they had all heard Farriha's curse, but most were not at all aware of the full extent of the disaster that was unfolding in the valley below.

"It doesn't look like the others have even noticed something is wrong!" Jerielle growled in a slight panic, nodding a snout east. "Look, the elvan front is still pushing ahead as hard as they can!"

"And I'm not seeing any reaction yet from the other units they have on the field!" Gahntuar agreed. He turned a worried gaze at his rider. "What are you intending to do?"

"We're going to have to break them out before it is too late!" Merec grumbled determinedly, as the Battlewing stationed with them assembled nearby.

"Shouldn't we ask for permission?" Audenier asked sarcastically.

"There is no time!" Merec replied quickly, his mind running too fast to have picked up on the drake's sarcasm. "Each second wasted makes an outbreak more difficult." With a soft curse to himself, he turned away from where he was hoping to see Farriha to address the dark human on the blue's back. "Roccan'gon Charl!

"Yes, sir?" Charl snapped quickly.

"I'm leaving you and Audenier in charge of two squads at the fortifications..." Merec started to say, but he was interrupted by an upset bark from the drake in question.

"But sir!" Audenier tried to appeal, but Merec cut him off with a raised hand.

"You are not going to be sitting anything out today!" the Roccan'hir stated firmly, understanding the dragon's frustration. "If they retook the bridge, they will come back for these forts, but we are leaving you with dangerously few resources as it is! Roccan'gon Celine?" He turned to the human Battlewing Commander on the lime-green drake. "Leave a squad here to keep the fort! Take the other two squads and assist Roccan'her Aerhin in breaking a way back to the bridge open for the elves!"

"Sir!" Celine stated, quickly conferring with her dragon who they will be leaving behind as Merec turned back to Charl.

"Charl," he added firmly. "Do your best to hold this line, we don't know if the elves may need to use the ford here to cross back over to the western side. But do not keep these piles of rocks if you are pressed too hard, understood?"

"Yes... sir," Charl acknowledged the order, a little hesitant at the thought of possibly abandoning the ground they had to hold.

"Aerhin," Merec turned to the elf next. "You and Jerielle work on opening up that corridor for the elves again! Gahntuar and I will go inform the Field-Marshal what is going on."

"Good luck!" Aerhin grumbled, looking up where Farriha was leading the other Battlewing towards them. "But take Roccan'gon Cera's squad with you! I'm not going to allow the leaders of the Lúgroccae to go into a battlefield unescorted!"

"Right then, let's go!" Merec snapped. Gahntuar roared out his command and the Lúgroccae took to the sky amidst furious wingbeats. As they turned to the bridge, they could see that the orcs had broken the Varanidae lines completely and was pushing the Cervidae off the structure and was pressing the elves further away from escape. Some of the other units finally started to notice what was going on, but it was already too late.

The rear units of the elves had realised the true extent of the danger they were in and were trying desperately to push back to the river, to link up with their allies. But the front of their pocket still seemed to be trying to push through the orc lines and as such the rear end was being pulled apart into smaller units that stood even less of a chance at surviving. In the madness, some of the elves noticed the dragons overhead and pointed up excitedly as Jerielle lead the first squad on a flame-run across the orcs.

"Gullivarth's balls this is a single company of orcs!" Gahntuar snarled as he flew furiously to the front of the doomed attack. "Is this a second horde?"

"I don't know, it doesn't make sense!" Merec called back upset. "But even if it is half of the horde, that means we are still outnumbered even if just! We cannot afford mistakes like this!"

"Can you see through the foliage?" Gahntuar started to ask, but then there were the sharp snaps of a few crossbows being fired off at them and the dragons banked quickly back to their lines before they were hit.

"There!" Merec called victoriously as he just happened to see the leading edge of the elven advance between a small gap in the trees. Gahntuar did not hesitate and with an angry roar, he crashed into the very orcs the elven Field-Marshal was fighting. The five dragons with him followed their leader into the fray, and in quick order, they had fought open a small space for Gahntuar to round on the furious Field-Marshal.

"What in Eraland's name do you think..." the elf started to fume, but the Roccan'hir cut him off with a rude flick of his wet blade.

"We don't have time to argue!" Merec snapped, equally angry. "Your army is..."

"Does disobeying come naturally to you?" Veryalas snapped in return, going so far as to silence Merec with a Manashape that momentarily stunned his tongue. "Get back to your post or I'll..."

"You're surrounded!" Gahntuar hissed this time, snapping his jaws at the elf. "Listen..."

Again, they were interrupted before anything of use could be said. Only, this time it was one of the dragons with them who barked a quick warning that carried clear above the din of battle. It was an ancient, draconic warning rarely used by adult dragons after the Dark Age. That was until the Lúgroccae had repurposed it.

'Warning-Danger-Sky.'

With the reflexes honed and perfected over years of training, all six Lúgae jumped clear of the positions they had been standing just as eight Umbrins tried to crash onto their backs. The Lúgroccae reacted quickly, striking down five of the Umbrins before they could even recover.

"Great Guillivarth!" Gahntuar whimpered, taking the chance to look up at the sky again to assess what was going on, as the squad with him took care of the remaining three enemy dragons.

"We need to get back into the air!" Merec snapped equally worriedly before turning to address a completely shocked elf, his tongue recovered enough for him to speak intelligently again. He turned to the elven Field-Marshal with an angry scowl. "Get your people out of here or they are all dead!"

With a quick bark at his dragons, Gahntuar left the Field-Marshal before he could reply. They had more pressing matters to attend to now. For his part, Veryalas blinked a confused second at the dead dragons that shouldn't have been there, before turning to look after the departing dragons. Then, he felt his breath catch in his chest at what he saw.

The sky was almost dark with the number of dragons above his forces. Some were harassing the elves from the sky while most were engaging the Lúgroccae, mobbing the dragons on their side and trying to push them down to the ground. Even as he watched, a Lúgroccan pair was forced down amidst the orc army where they were easily overwhelmed by the enemy ground forces. A massive army of orcs at that, pressing in hard on his one flank. The numbers on the hills to his north alone were more than he had thought was even stationed at the bridge here, and when he turned to the low rise on their southern flank, he only saw a similar picture.

He felt his blood go cold as the full meaning of what had just transpired crashed into him. What the Roccan'hir had tried to warn him about and the risk he had taken to bring him the desperate news. They had been led into a trap, and it was closing in around them fast.

"Gracious Eraland, lend us strength!"

***

By the time Gahntuar had risen to combat height again, the sky above the trapped elves had become a press of dragons, the likes of which has not been seen by any creature still alive on Selebore. A mass of Umbrins had descended on the Lúgroccae, hitting them hard and trying to push the squads apart. When they did, the scattered Lúgroccan pairs were mobbed two to one, the Umbrins trying to push the Lumor down into the orcs below.

The Umbrins who were not busy with the Lúgroccae were strafing the elves with fire, assisting the horde in pressing them into a tight pocket.

With a quick press of his thumb, Merec released the third of six arrows from a small archery frame affixed to his saddle, just behind his right hip. Nocking the arrow, he had slight trouble picking out a single target amidst the overwhelming numbers against them. Then one Umbrin grappling with a fresh Lúgroccan pair caught his attention and with a quick movement, he drew the small recurve bow and released the projectile. The bow was not powerful enough to do real harm against a dragon even one that wore no armour unless you knew where to hit. The arrow sailed through the enemy's wing membrane, easily tearing through it. But though the damage was superficial at best, it was serious enough for the Umbrin to disengage from the struggling Lúg with a yelp of pain.

"Those little darts of yours is not helping much!" Gahntuar hissed as he swiped at yet another Umbrin who dared to come to close.

"At least it distracts them at a crucial moment!" Merec replied, watching the Umbrin he had shot as it tried to escape off the battlefield. With a tearing wing, his participation in the battle was at an end. But give him some rest and time to heal, and the dragon would be in the air again without much trouble. Yes, he didn't take the enemy dragon out, but for now, that was one less Umbrin to worry about.

"And how long do you think your arrows will last?" Gahntuar shot back.

"I guess you have a point!" Merec conceded the point as he eyed his dwindling supply. With practised ease, he quickly pressed the small bow into a quick-lock grip behind his left side, the catch rolling over the handle and locking it secure without him having to look. For once, he wished he had a lance with him in this close quarter areal battle rather than his sabre, but it was no use bemoaning that which he could not change.

"Any ideas?" Gahntuar called, avoiding a plume of fire before spitting a short burst of his own at the attacking Umbrin.

"We need to change tactics!" Merec shouted back, surveying the battle as he unclipped his sabre from its sheath. "In this mass of wings, we are not effective, and the elves are taking a beating with the Umbrins free to strafe them like this."

"As are we!" Gahntuar reminded him before he suddenly roared out as a small red dragon attacked them. As the red grappled with the black, he tried to reach around towards Merec. But that left him vulnerable to Gahntuar, who wasted no time to sink his teeth into the attacker's shoulder and with a vicious shake he dislodged the Umbrin. The young red screeched and fled, blood streaming from the tear in his shoulder. "What..." Gahntuar started to say, but he had to swipe at the snout of another Umbrin who dared to come too close. "What did you have in mind?"

"We need to draw the Umbrins up and away from the ground forces as much as possible!" Merec made his snap decision. "It will also give us more room to manoeuvre!"

"Works for me!" Gahntuar agreed quickly, feeling more than a little overwhelmed by the press of enemy dragons around them. He risked a quick glance at the army below them whose pocket was quickly decreasing in size. "But how will that help the elves? What if we don't lure away all the dragons?"

"We're no good to them if we bring the Umbrins over their heads!" Merec snapped a bit crudely. But his dragon did have a valid point that needed to be considered. "The two of us are the main target for the Umbrins, so most of them should follow us, but we can leave Jerielle and Aerhin with a squad to try and assist the army."

"Agreed," Gahntuar snarled, glancing around and quickly identifying the darker red armour before recognizing the red draine herself. He twisted around and flew to intercept her, for the first time truly understanding the need for the different coloured sets of armour. As he reached her, he gave a short bark to get her attention, yet they still had to fight off three Umbrins between themselves before they had an opening to talk.

"Aerhin!" Merec called as the last Umbrin disengaged from them. "Take Oranne's squad and do what you can to assist the army here. But whatever you do, do not try to engage the Umbrins directly on your own. We are badly outnumbered, and we cannot win a match of brute strength!"

"Yes, sir!" Aerhin replied, glancing worriedly down at the desperate situation of his countrymen below them. "But as long as the Umbrins continue to harass us, there is little we can do!"

"What about you?" Jerielle asked worriedly.

"We are going to try and lead the main Umbrin force higher into the sky and away from the army here!" Gahntuar replied, striking out in reflex at a green dragon who came flying in hard at them, only to recognize just in time that it was Farriha.

"We're completely outnumbered, sir!" She shouted the obvious. "I think this was a trap meant for us! We need to get out of here before they push us into the horde below."

"We cannot abandon the elves like this!" Gahntuar snarled the worry etched clearly in his voice. He may have finally accepted that he was not responsible for Erendile's death, but he would not allow anyone to die if he could not help it.

"Farriha!" Merec called out to her, relieved. "Get word to the gryphons down in the south to come and assist here! Drag them by the tails if you have to!"

"Sir," Farriha acknowledged, though obviously not happy with the request. Merec could not blame her though, already imagining what the annoying featherheads' reaction to the request for assistance would be. But they had little choice in the matter.

As she banked away to find some of her scouts, Gahntuar roared out a simple command and as one, the Lúgroccae ascended higher into the partially clouded sky. Most of the Umbrins quickly followed them, but as the Lúg'hir had feared, several remained behind to press the embattled elves into as tight a ball with their fire as they could.

"Natale!" Aerhin called out to a female wolf who had to take up the mantle of squad leader in the field. "Call your squad back and help me keep these Umbrins at bay!"

"How, sir?" the she-wolf asked as her dragon called the others of the squad back.

"I don't know," Aerhin admitted. "Just, make their job as difficult for them as possible."

***

"Good lad!" Roccan'hir Harald smiled to himself as he watched most of the Lúgroccae ascend higher into the sky in an attempt to lead the Umbrins away from the battle below. He was impressed with his pupil's quick reaction to assist the elves, coming to their aid even before anyone around him realised anything was wrong. In fact, it was the sheer number of enemy dragons that finally warned everyone here at the command outpost that not all was at it had seemed. And even then, it took a cervine messenger to finally get them to realize the desperate truth of the situation.

Not that it helped much other than cause absolute pandemonium. The elf who was supposed to be handling this in Veryalas's stead had disappeared, leaving a gaping hole in the command structure. And now, with no clear chain of command, the various commanders with him were arguing amidst themselves on how to react.

"Enough!" Harald shouted out over the other commanders. "We are wasting time we do not have! Where is Brigadier Azreal?"

"By the bridge, trying to organize a counter offensive," one lion lieutenant stated quickly.

"No, you fool!" a tiger captain snapped. "I saw him go down to the southern river fortifications. Something is wrong with the Reds there..."

"Enough of that!" Harald decided, turning to a map of the area that lay unfurled on a small, foldable round table. "We know the main part of the army has been cut off from the river, so our main objective is to link up with them! Master Haulle, Lord Gerndor! The dwarven engineers and the Cervidae that is trying to recapture the bridge are taking a beating! We must assist them without delay."

"I'm already on it, human!" the red bovine grunted annoyed at the obvious statement.

"I will not waste an opportunity for victory by panicking at the smallest setback, old man!" Gerndor snarled. The tiger leaned in over the map to intimidate the smaller human as he pointed to a section of the river south of the bridge. "We can..."

"What victory?" Harald snapped exasperated, throwing a hand east towards the river. "Open your eyes and see that we've been led into a trap! There is clearly more than the reported twelve hundred orcs guarding the old bridge!"

"I agree with Lord Gerndor!" Lord Djumah stated in an intimidatingly calm voice. "If we strike right, we can turn the battle back to our advantage!" The black-maned lion stepped up to the map as well, and though he was not as overbearing as his tiger counterpart, his frame alone still commanded a descent amount of respect. Though when he pointed to the map, he suggested something different entirely. "We will be quicker if we can ford the river, here, to the north where your Lúgroccae has captured the high ground..."

"Do you really think any of the flying lizards are still guarding the river forts to the north?" the tiger growled appalled. "You saw how they swooped in just now? Abandoned their post in favour of glorious battle like they did when capturing the castle! No, I say we go downstream, join up with the Red magi there and hit the orcs from the south!"

"And the Reds aren't hunting for glory out here?" the lion growled, equally ferociously. "They are cursed blades in battle, as likely to cut you down as strike at the enemy!"

"Both of those fords are too deep to cross quickly enough," the minotaur added upset. "That is why there is a bridge in the first place! We need to strike at the bridge!"

"That is what they will be expecting!" the tiger snarled. "However, if we come from their south…"

"If they see us coming, they will trap us in the water before we can cross what goes as a ford in this river!" Master Haulle snapped, the minotaur punctuating his statement by punching the table with the bottom of his fist. "The risk is too …"

"Where are the Yellows by the way?" Harald interrupted the pointless argument.

"They are trying to assist the Cervidae in recapturing the bridge," the unicorn White magus who had advised Veryalas stated quickly. She sounded scared, as battle magic was not her forte, but she held her courage admirably. "But an overwhelming number of goblin spell-casters there is making progress difficult for them."

"We should send back word to Eydelvise and have some of the Greens brought here," Harald suggested, not taking his eyes off the map. "Where are the Varanidae? What news of them?"

"Don't know," Lord Djumah admitted. "The lizards and the Yellows were supposed to help secure a fort this side of the river just south of the bridge. They had some kind of issue after capturing the fortifications and General Azreal went to find out for himself what was the matter, but we haven't received news..."

"Incoming!" a tiger corporal suddenly shrieked. "We're under attack!"

"What the...?" Master Haulle muttered, looking around at the commotion.

Harald, used to fighting dragons in the past decade, quickly scanned the skies about their position, but he couldn't see any direct threat to them. Then the clanging of steel drew his attention down and he could feel his blood drain from his face as he saw a large group of armoured trolls crashed into the temporary encampment they were using as headquarters. Their strike landed directly between the tiger and lion units and for a moment everything was complete chaos.

"I thought our side of the river was secured!" Harald hissed accusingly at no one in particular. He drew his blade which suddenly felt way too light and small in comparison to the heavy spiked clubs the trolls were wielding with brutal efficiency. "Is there another crossing across the river we are not aware of?"

"No time to worry about that right now, human!" the lion commander snarled, rushing forward with his blade drawn to try and organize some resemblance of a defensive formation.

Around them, the tigers and lions fought desperately against the trolls in their midst. Though the cats outnumbered the Shadowspawn, it was not that easy to defend against the overwhelming strength of a troll and the brutish creatures were quickly tearing up the camp. Then, one noticed Harald and came rushing at him with an unintelligent battle cry. The human managed to step away from the powerful, overhead swing in time to avoid getting his head bashed him, before he slashed down at the troll's arm, cleaving a deep gash into the troll's wrist. The troll shrieked in pain, dropping his weapon and stumbling away. But the wound was nowhere near enough to disable the creature for long and to make matters worse, the cry of the troll seemed to have drawn the attention of two more.

"I am too old for this nonsense," Harald grumbled to himself as he prepared to defend himself once more.

***

Captain Ben Eidlesworth blinked in surprise at the olive-green dragon as she attempted to hover before them with great backstrokes of her wings. The three dragons were undoubtedly Lúgroccan, wearing sections of what can only be described as a set of studded leather armour. He had always thought the Lúgroccae armour was a ridiculous attempt to seem regal, but now it helped him distinguish allay from foe at least. Despite their brightly coloured scales of various hues, the dragons all looked the same to him and no matter how he looked at it one green dragon was just like another green.

"Come again?" the human captain asked, just to be sure he had heard right. He glanced between the three dragons momentarily, before settling on the green with the lighter set of horns and smaller crest. She, or at least he thought it was a she, seemed to be the commanding officer of this light infantry equivalent of the Lúgroccae, a unit he didn't even know existed before now. Though it was not completely unexpected that the Lúgroccae would come to them and ask for help, he had expected it to happen only when they encountered the main horde. Not this early in the campaign.

"You need to come to the bridge at once and help us there," the draine snapped as if she had authority over them "or all will be lost! The elves are completely..."

"We have our own..." Gherrin, the black gryph Ben was riding, hissed back at her but she interrupted him with a snap of her jaws.

"Forget about it," she snapped. "It will mean nothing if you clear out your section, but we lose the battle!"

The red drake with her barked a warning as the cluster of enemy dragons the gryphons had tried to pin down circled close by again and the three strangely skittish creatures scattered momentarily.

"What the hell has gotten into them?" the human asked, watching the three Lúgroccae dive low to the ground in a strange avoidance manoeuvre that was completely unnecessary. Yes, there were enemy dragons in the vicinity, but they knew better than to fly headlong into the flock of gryphon-knights.

The Thendorians had finally uncovered the enemy dragons' nest, scattering some ten enemy dragons from a small overhang. True, the new tactics the dragons were employing by staying together in a group was making it difficult for the gryphon-knights to overwhelm them as usual. But even though it was more dragons than they had ever seen together, they still outnumbered the dragons four-to-one and given time they knew they could drive the formation apart and defeat them. Gryphons were after all the superior flyers and fighters.

"The war has finally gotten too much for them!" Gherrin chuckled, enjoying how the irritatingly overconfident creatures the army was forced to accept had been brought back to ground level. "I knew it would happen sooner than later, but I had expected them to come running to us for help only when we encountered some real fighting! Serves them right for the stunt they pulled at the castle a few days ago."

"I think it is something else, to be honest," Captain Eidlesworth stated worriedly, watching the draine realize no one was attacking and quickly make her way back to them. Something had definitely spooked them, there was no question about it. And he didn't know whether he should be satisfied at their humiliation … or worried. "Well, at least they know when to ask for help!"

"Just not how!" Gherrin grumbled, not in any mood to deal with the Lúgroccan messenger. "Just goes to show they don't belong here! A little pressure and they buckle."

"Yeah, but now we have to pick up the slack!" the human grumbled equally unimpressed, trying to ignore the worrying itch at the back of his mind. "I think we better have someone check it out."

"Fine," the black gryphon hissed annoyed. "But I doubt that one will be satisfied if we don't go personally!"

"Then, I think we can leave Edgar's unit behind just to keep an eye on this nest while we go sort out whatever the problem is in the north," the human suggested. "We can come back to dispatch these dragons properly when we're done saving the Dragonriders' worthless tails." When the gryph hissed annoyed, he added with a smirk: "Then think of it this way, if we have to do the Dragonriders' job for them as well, it should put that arrogant bunch in their place for a bit!"

"Now you're talking!" Gherrin grinned, squawking to his lieutenant to get their attention.

"Okay, we're coming!" Captain Eidlesworth yelled at the green draine just as she reached them. She sighed with relief that was visible on the strange features even at this distance and immediately turned away from them. In quick order, Gherrin gave the new orders and almost thirty of the gryphons turned to follow her back to the bridge again.

"So, what do you think spooked them so much?" the human wondered out loud as they passed by the castle again. "Trolls?"

"It could be anything with teeth sharper than a sheep's, I think!" Gherrin smirked, peering intensely at the river ahead to try and see the bridge. "I guess we'll find out in a... great Keor!"

"What is it?" Captain Eidlesworth asked worriedly, not liking the shock in the gryphon's voice. In the distance he could make out the wings of more dragons, some twenty to thirty of them and they flew around each other in circles, some desperately spitting fire down onto the ground. But even though it was still too far for him to make out who was who, he doubted the situation really called for such a panicked reaction he was seeing.

"The elves are surrounded!" the gryph yelped fearfully. "How did...?"

"That's impossible," Captain Eidlesworth started to say, but even as he said it, he realized that there were several times more people on the ground than he had expected. Within moments, they came into a better range and the human could finally see what the gryphon had said was indeed correct. The elves were indeed trapped in a pocket on the far side of the river, pressed into an ever-tightening ball by a horde at least twenty thousand strong. Some of the ill-disciplined Dragonriders were spraying fire over everyone in an attempt to break the elves out, but they were causing more harm than good in the human's opinion.

"Wait, the horde is here already?" he gasped, still struggling to comprehend the unfolding disaster in its entirety. On the bridge itself, he noticed that the Cervidae, Bovidae and the small force of the Alliance of Light were engaged with the orcs in a desperate push to reach the trapped elves. They passed over the location where the commanders were stationed, and worry turned to true fear when he noticed the Tigirae and Leonae there being overrun by trolls and goblin spellcasters. A roar of pain drew his attention up to the fighting dragons and with a start, he realised that only nine of the dragons were of the Lúgroccae, and that included the three who had come to fetch them.

"I don't know, but it sure looks like it!" Gherrin snapped, also quickly scanning over the battlefield to assess the situation.

"You see their Lúg'hir anywhere?" the human rider asked stunned, watching as the few Dragonriders tried to assist the trapped army. One or two managed to spit a wave of fire over the orcs between the elves and the bridge, but they were mostly kept away from the critical location by the superior numbers of enemy dragons who were harassing them relentlessly. And it was the enemy dragons who were not chasing down the Lúgroccae who were spitting fire over the embattled elves, assisting the horde to press their foe into an even tighter pocket.

"No sir!" the black gryph replied, scanning through the dragons above the battle. "I didn't think he was the kind who would turn tail so quickly..."

"I'm not sure of some of his friends, but I doubt he is a coward!" Eidlesworth stated firmly. "Do you think he has fallen already?"

"Doubtful!" Gherrin hissed back, ear-tufts folded back at the reprimand. "The fighting in the sky is not fierce enough. At least I can see his second over there!"

"Right then, let's go have a chat with her!" Captain Eidlesworth turned to call out to the gryphon-knights with him. "Alright, time to save the day! Let's clear out these dragons! Thomas, Edward! With me!"

The black gryph squawked in acknowledgement and flanked by tawny and ivory gryphons, they darted for the red draine who was at that moment grappling with a green drake. They surprised both dragons and the gryphons by his flanks drove off the enemy dragon while Gherrin backwinged in front of the already bleeding draine.

"Get your people out of here!" Captain Eidlesworth commanded the elf on the red draine's back in the moment of calm they managed to secure. "Let the real warriors deal with this!"

"Gullivarth's arse, human" The elf snapped exasperated, unaware of the human blinking in surprise at him. Though the deity he referred to was one the human had never heard of before, it was more shocking to see an elf swearing at all. "Swallow your pride for once and look around you. We need to fight together if we are to surv..."

The elf was interrupted by a warning squawk from a nearby gryphon and the draine he was riding twisted expertly out of the way of a new enemy dragon who came diving from above to knock her into the orc horde below. The new drake was quickly driven off again by a mob of three gryphons, allowing a moment of calm for the two leaders again.

"Looks like our friends from the south decided to join the party!" one of the humans on a cream coloured gryphon shouted, pointing south to where a cluster of new dragons was approaching them.

"You take care of the dragons here!" the elf shouted even as his dragon started to bank into a turn again. "Your gryphons are more manoeuvrable in the sky than dragons, even ours. We'll work on clearing a path back to the river for the elves!"

"Wait!" Captain Eidlesworth called the Dragonrider back. "Where is the Rocc..." He was interrupted by an enemy dragon falling from the sky, blood streaming from a moral bite to his neck. "Roccan'hir?"

"Up there!" the elf pointed up to a region above them. The action was completely unnecessary, as both human and gryphon were already looking up with widening eyes at the impossible display above them.

High overhead, there were more dragons in one spot than either of them thought existed on the entire Selebore. At this distance, they looked like a swarm of flies around a day-old carcass, and from his military experience, Eidlesworth guessed that there were almost two hundred dragons in total, twisting and turning about each other in a dizzying display. Fire was being used indiscriminately, great plumes of rolling flames flashing within the cloud like an angry thunderstorm on the highlands in the summertime. Then, even as they watched, one bright greed dragon separated from the madness in a mad, suicidal dive towards the ground. Within seconds, they realized that he was in fact, chasing down a flailing speck which quickly turned out to be a fox, still strapped to his saddle. The green caught the falling rider, but just as he was swooping out of his dive, three enemy dragons crashed upon him from above. The green was unable to escape the murderous dragons in time before he was brutally driven into the ground amidst the dwindling cluster of elves.

After a few quick slashes and bites, the three dragons escaped with barely any visible injuries. The green, however, remained laying motionless where he had been crushed on the ground.

"Keor's balls!" Gherrin hissed terrified at the brutal display.

"What about..." Captain Eidlesworth started to say, turning back to the elf only to find that a new group of Dragonriders had appeared. The Lúgroccan second-in-command was talking to a rider astride a deep blue drake, the dark skin of the human indicating that he was from the community around Sauthol bay at the southern tip of the peninsula.

"The northern fortifications are lost!" the human was shouting back at the elf as he cut the awkwardly dangling crinet from the blue drake's neck, letting the now worthless piece of bloody armour drop onto the horde below. "We were swarmed on the ground and then mobbed when we tried to take off. I lost much of the squads with me..."

"Right then," the human gryphon-knight snapped, deciding to let the elf give new orders to the newcomers. "Let's keep these dragons off our dragons' backs so they can do their job!"

Gherrin screeched in agreement, and as he dived at the nearest enemy dragon, Eidlesworth couldn't help but shudder at the thought of the battling dragons above them, secretly glad he was not up there amidst the flames with them.

***

Gahntuar tried to ignore the stinging pain in his side where part of his lamellar plackart had given way, revealing a nasty gash in his dark scales that oozed blood freely over the rest of the golden armour. The wound looked worse than it truly was, but he had suffered worse. In his opinion, it was not even worth the effort to mould a healing spell. No, the real problem with the broken armour was that it exposed the leather strap of Merec's saddle, leaving it an open target just begging to be attacked. He had moulded a small Manashape earlier to offer it some additional protection there, not giving a damn who noticed his ability to use magic consciously. He did not want Merec to suffer the same fate as some of the other riders he had seen fall already.

It was clear to even an untrained eye that the Umbrins were focusing their attacks on the riders particularly, striking directly at them or trying to find a way to rip the saddles off. The dragon armour has proven itself to be a great boon for without it, they would have been in a much worse state than they were now. However, as sturdy as it was, some of the pieces of armour were starting to fail after repeated, targeted attacks. For a moment he wondered if he should talk to Claude and Lesley about using chains rather than reinforced leather to strap the saddles onto their backs, but a sudden knock from the side as a red drake grabbed hold of his shoulder forced his attention back to the present.

The red Umbrin screeched in pain as Merec cut at the dragon even as the red tried to bite him. The attacker banked away quickly, spitting curses and blood from the deep cut to his upper lip, leaving Gahntuar alone again. Merec had aimed for the fire-oil duct but in constant shifting movements of an aerial battle, such a small target difficult to hit. Thus, fire was being used much more freely in the sky than they had ever seen it being done on the ground, making the space around them look almost amber-coloured like during sunset. Luckily the Lúgroccae had come prepared for this as well, with the armour of both rider and dragon enchanted with fire protection amongst other things. As such, the flames were not as effective a weapon as it should have been for Umbrins and instead helped keep overwhelming numbers the Lúgroccae were fighting at bay somewhat.

"How is the army doing?" Gahntuar called back to Merec when he had the opportunity, not risking looking himself as he kept his eyes on any approaching dragons. "Can you see?"

"The gryphons have finally arrived!" Merec announced hopefully as he leaned over to look down past his dragon's shoulder.

"How long till we can get out of this mess?" Gahntuar asked desperately. He gasped in shock when he saw a green drake outmanoeuvre a cream draine and reach around to snap his teeth at the draine's human rider. Gahntuar spat a glob of slimy spit and fire-oil at the Umbrin, the fireball hitting the dragon right between the wings and forcing him to disengage with a painfilled howl, but not before he had managed to sink his teeth deep into the human's chest.

"Aerhin and Jerielle seem to be making progress!" Merec announced hopefully. "The elven formations is showing a clear bulge back towards the river. It shouldn't be... AH!"

Gahntuar feels ice form in his chest as claws grabbed hold of his one hip and Merec screamed in pain. He snapped his head around to see very young, dull blue draine had managed to latch onto him from behind and had already bitten Merec on the shoulder. But the human reacted quickly. Before the drake could even think of something to do and before the draine could pull his arm off, he moulded a Manashape he had apparently been saving for an even like this. The shape exploded in the draine's mouth and she released him with a pain-filled shriek. As his shoulder came free, Merec's bloody sabre fell from his now numb hand, twinkling once or twice before it was gone.

"Merec!" Gahntuar yelped in terror. With a quick snap of his tail, Gahntuar dislodged the disorientated Umbrin and she pulled away from them, coughing up smoke and curses and blood from a few missing teeth. She glared back up at them and the moment their gazes locked, he recognized the hateful glare in Ikessa's eyes. Sadly, the explosion in her jaws did not do much more damage and she urgently banked away from them, quickly becoming lost amidst the mill of draconic wings.

"Merec!" Gahntuar repeated his worried shout. He turned to look back at his human, who was cradling a badly mauled shoulder. Luckily the armour he wore took the brunt of the bite, but the dragon doubted it would be able to repel another attack. "Are you okay?"

Stupid question! Of course, he was not okay. True, he will live if they avoided another attack, but he won't be able to fight anymore this day. In fact, if they did not reach a skilled Green Magus that day, there was a good possibility that Merec would never be able to wield a sword again. Luckily for them, they had several very talented Greens waiting for them back at Eydelvise. The bad news was that they were not going to be getting out of this battle before the elves managed to break out.

Merec grimaced in pain and bit back a curse as Gahntuar flapped his wings to remain airborne and in a flash, the dragon had moulded a small healing shape for his human. It was nowhere near what Merec needed at the moment, only something to stop the bleeding and reduce the pain a bit.

"Don't worry about me, I'm still alive!" Merec quickly called to his dragon, daring to point ahead with his good arm. "Focus on the battle around you!"

Gahntuar turned to focus in front of him again to see two drakes baring down hard on him. An old, dark reddish-brown drake was already in the process of opening his jaws to spit fire at them even as he was about to grab onto Gahntuar. Gahntuar twisted away from the oncoming fire, but even as the liquid flame lit up in the attacker's jaws, he was tackled by one of his Battlewing commanders. Lúg'gon Ethiene rammed hard into the older Umbrin's side, her pauldron knocking the breath from him momentarily and he dropped with a weak grunt. His companion, an iridescent bluish-black drake fared no better against Tembarah, as she targeted the younger drake's wings with precision strikes forcing him to break the attack off with a startled yelp.

Gahntuar spotted Ikessa again, and this time he was ready for her. With a furious snarl, he dove down onto her, hoping to strike her on the back and drive her into the churning waters of the river, the Amber Tower's orders be damned. But a warning bark from somewhere alerted her and with a quick twist, she was lost amidst the battling dragons again.

Gahntuar swore aloud as he lost her again, looking around at the raging madness about him.

"Hurry up, Jerielle!" he hissed to himself worriedly. "I don't know how much longer we can keep this up."

***

Contrary to everything that was going wrong today, Colonel John Adulsworth was feeling better about himself as he struck down an orc who seemed to have so some authority.

A thoughtless deathbed promise to a close cervine friend of his had turned out to be much more costly than he would ever have anticipated. Instead of taking his place in the Alliance's Grand Stand on the Kentereal Highlands, the whole reason he had joined up in the first place to be fair, he found himself stuck here in this damnable forest. But worse than missing his life's calling, he had already missed three of his four mandatory Quarterly Meditation Sessions. If he missed one more of the coming five, he will be automatically demoted back to major. Honestly, he had hoped to be a brigadier or even a general in time for the Grand Stand, but thanks to the uncertain events in the forest, he could not comply with all the needed promotion requirements and still only held the title of colonel.

Had nothing of note continued to happen during this campaign, it would have been more than he could bare. But now, doing the glorious work of the Light here on the field of battle and assisting those in need against the overbearing might of the Shadowspawn, he felt a sense of purpose to his life again. Under his direct command, his forces had managed to destroy a group of goblin spell-casters on the old bridge, as they tried to rip the walkway apart and deny the elves any hope of returning to safety. The lizard contingent assigned to secure the bridge and the fortifications guarding it had been routed early on when the bridge was first recaptured by a squad of trolls. The few who remained managed to join up with the Cervidae, who fared a little better but was still unable to organise themselves in time to repel the serious onslaught that no one had predicted.

"Heads-up!" a bovine Alliance captain called out a warning. "They're coming in for another pass!"

By now it wasn't a surprise anymore and Adulsworth lifted his arm to block the searing heat from the fire as a Dragonrider passed over the orcs. The control the monsters had over their element was incredible and the precision they displayed was exceptionally well trained. They targeted the narrowing band of goblins, orcs and trolls with devastating waves of almost liquid fire, scorching everything in front of the Alliance without coming close enough to even singe their hair.

The burning orcs screamed in agony as the dragon flew off again, chased by two riderless dragons and Adulsworth spared a moment to look up at them. He had warned the elven Field-Marshal that this would lead to disaster if he was to allow those dragon-worshipping Shadowfriends to join with them, yet even he was caught completely off guard when they had sprung their trap. Their deception was so skilfully done, he doubted any of the Inquisitors of the Light would be able to discern exactly how they pulled it off.

Only, why keep up the charade of being on their side? He definitely knew there was something more to their plan that he obviously was not seeing, but no matter how he looked at it, he could not understand why they decided to go so far as to kill other Shadowspawn? There was no doubt the fire being sprayed over the orcs was real. The death of the orcs in front of him was real.

"There they are!" one of the few lizards who were still a part of the Alliance shouted in excitement.

Colonel Adulsworth turned his attention back to the fighting on ground level and was delighted to see a brief glimpse of an elf through the press of orcs.

"We're almost there!" he shouted excitedly to the soldiers around him. "Just a little further!"

Encouraged by the now visible progress, they fought even harder and after only a few more minutes, orcs between them and elves finally caved, and the two groups liked up.

"Come on!" a cervine not with the Alliance shouted to the elves. "Get out of there!"

It was an Unnecessary call, for the last of the orcs between them had barely fallen before the first of the elves start to flee. As more and more of the woodland folk realized there was hope at escape now, they also turned to make a desperate attempt to flee back across the river. In no time at all, the elven rout began.

"Defend the flanks!" Adulsworth ordered worriedly as an orc attack pressed hard into the backs of the fleeing elves. As more elves joined the rout, too many bodies pushed into the too narrow corridor and they started to trip over each other and those who had come to their rescue.

"Careful!" the human snapped, but once the promise of surviving this ordeal was there it was impossible to calm the desperation down. Within moments several Cervidae had been pushed over and Adulsworth followed only moments later. But before he could get up again, a strike unit of trolls burst through their meagre defences in a bid to close off the corridor off again. One of the trolls hit a bovid Alliance captain and sent the massive bull flying, while another visibly targeted the human colonel who lay prone on his back.

As the troll raised his spiked mace above his head to strike the Colonel down, a purplish dragon with studded leather armour dropped down onto the creature. The slightly larger dragon pushed the troll completely over onto its back and dispatched it with a few quick bites to the thick neck. In the confusion caused by the dragon, Adulsworth had the opportunity to get to his feet again.

"Stand firm!" the human encouraged the wavering Alliance. "Stand firm. Pike men, hold your line!"

He turned back to where the dragon had saved his life and was shocked to see two of the other trolls had managed to overwhelm it before he could escape into the sky again. But the dragon had played a crucial role in buying the Cervidae and the Alliance enough time to organize themselves and push the horde back, killing the trolls and stabilizing the corridor again. As the Alliance forces pushed to widen the corridor for the fleeing elves, Adulsworth found himself by the side of the fallen drake.

"Is-is … way o-open?" the creature wheezed, coughing up blood and struggling to breathe with a collapsed lung.

"It is open," Adulsworth whispered, not sure what to say or even how to handle what he was seeing. The dying drake smiled faintly before he coughed one last time and was still.

Somewhere, something was very wrong with the world indeed, Adulsworth thought as he knelt and put a hand to the dead drake's forehead. Everyone in the Alliance knew you could never trust anything that crawled from the shadows... but how could he even start to explain what just happened. What trick could be so convoluted as to not only save your sworn enemy's very life but to give up your own as a result? There is no faking being beaten to death. And if you die fighting against something, how could you ever serve it?

The Annuals of Light, even the Sanctum Illud of Epangelia was clear about it.

And yet...

"... secure the line!" a lion Alliance captain was shouting, shaking him by the shoulder. "Hurry up human, the orcs are rallying to close this corridor again!"

Adulsworth looked up in surprise to see a fresh wave of orcs crash into their still flimsy line. With a very non-Alliance-like curse, he jumped up again to get back to the fight, the dead dragon and the vast array of shattered ideologies he brought with him forgotten at the moment as there were more urgent things to consider.

***

"Shit, shit, shit!" Gahntuar hissed terrified as he watched the whirlpool of dragon wings around him. Though the number of remaining Lúgroccae with him was still significant, their time was quickly running out.

Having failed to attack and defeat them directly, Ikessa had switched tactics and was skilfully guiding her thunder of dragons to surround them. Gahntuar only caught glimpses of her now as she flew about the outside, ordering the black and brown drakes from earlier to position the Umbrins around their prey like a pack of Kuhiuns. Several times, Gahntuar had tried to reach her for a grand one-on-one battle for the skies, but he was pushed back into the ball, be it by the snap of an Umbrin's teeth or the accidental backwing of a friendly Lumor.

There was nothing he could do as the overpowering number of Umbrins was slowly succeeding in outmanoeuvring his dragons, herding them into a large blob in the sky. The Lúg'hir had seen it done enough times to know what the inevitable outcome would be. But he had always been the one on the outside. He hadn't ever expected this could one day happen to them. Still, they were not stupid enough to have failed to prepare a plan to deal with this tactic when it was tried against them, but as long as the elven army below remained in trouble, they could not disengage from this losing fight without exposing their backs to their enemy.

"Any update on those fucking elves?" Gahntuar shouted back at his rider. Merec shouted something back, but his reply was lost as the drake had to swerve to avoid colliding with an Umbrin. He backwinged for a moment to slow his speed, swiping at the enemy dragon with a forepaw and missing completely, before an accidental bump for a Lumor nearly knocked him out of the sky.

Gahntuar was seriously contemplating pulling the shattered Lúgroccae completely from the battle. The elven army was lost, and he had to know when to cut their losses and run himself. They might lose about half of the Lúgroccae who remained as they fled, but that was better than leading everyone who followed him here to their deaths, right? He was responsible for their safety foremost, damned what anyone else expected of them. He owed elves nothing. None of the other units here deserved this sacrifice of theirs.

But then the thought of Erendile stabbed into his conscience and he knew he would not be able to live with himself if his lack of action led to the death of those who relied on him. But then again, his dragons and riders were also …

A brown drake suddenly pushed through the press of dragons to reach him, the leather armour torn and bloody at the shoulder.

"Lúg'hir, sir!" the brown messenger called out desperately. "The elves have broken out! They are crossing the river en mass! We need..."

Gahntuar did not wait for the message to be delivered completely. Without hesitation, he roared out the order he had been desperate to give. At his call, the remaining Lúgae folded their wings and dropped like stones. The Umbrins were caught momentarily off guard by the sudden, rather desperate move and the few who were tasks to block off any escape downward had to scramble before they were knocked completely off their wings. But the surprise did not last and the Umbrins were quick to pursue the escaping Lumors down.

"Lúg'hir! Sir!" Jerielle called out, levelling out next to him even as he swooped out of his deadfall. "We've managed to break the elves out and they are retreating back to Eydelvise!"

Gahntuar glanced at the elven army and he felt his heart sink when he noticed they were utterly decimated by the day's disaster. The thin line of defenders still trying to hold the bridge were starting to buckle under renewed pressure from the horde, but they looked like they could hold the line long enough for the last of the elves to cross over to safety again. At least, a fresh unit of Bovidae was rushing in to help bolster the defences.

"Are you two alright?" Aerhin asked worriedly when he noticed how bloodied the human and dragon were.

Before Merec could reply, they were interrupted by an urgent squawk from a gryphon and the black gryph that had always gone out of his way to poke fun at them came swooping in as well. This time, however, there were no snide remarks from either him or his rider.

"Get your people out of here!" the human rider called out to the Roccan'hir, the black gryph casting the bloodied human a worried look. "You cannot take this beating much longer!"

"I agree, it is time for us to..." Gahntuar started to say, but he faltered when he looked around and saw that Jerielle was also badly beaten up. Like his own, her plackart was bloodied and torn up as the Umbrins tried to get to her saddle strap, but one frontal pauldron was also dented uncomfortably and she had completely lost her helm. Blood was dripping down her cheek from a torn ear and the tip of her one horn had broken off in a scuffle.

He had barely registered her bad shape when Audenier gave a terrified roar from somewhere across the river, calling desperately for help. They turned and realized with horror that the Umbrins who had been tied down dealing with the Lúgroccae were now freed up and able to attack the defenders by the bridge.

"The defenders can't stand an attack like that!" Merec hissed painfully through clenched teeth.

"And if we lose the river, we lose the army!" Gahntuar agreed worriedly, looking back at the disorganized way the elves were fleeing back to Eydelvise Castle. He was already hating himself for what he was about to ask of his battered companions, but he still roared out the order and dove at full attack speed at the Umbrins once more. He had to distract them from tearing up the rear guard long enough for the army to escape back to the castle.

"You stupid geckos!" the black gryphon shouted after the battered and bloodied Lúgroccae survivors who followed their leader dutifully. The problem was that they were absolutely correct and there was little anyone else could do to save the army. He had to admit that the number of enemy dragons was beyond anything the gryphons could deal with, as they had always been the ones to outnumber their foes. But it was also clear that the Dragonriders alone would not be able to make a difference to the fight, yet they still pressed on. Confronted with such courage, he had to admire their dedication to the cause. "Thendorians, with me!" he called to the other gryphons with a desperate squawk, before following the Dragonriders back into battle.

***

After taking significant casualties breaking through to the elves and holding the corridor open long enough for them to withdraw most of their remaining forces, the members of the Alliance had been relieved by a Bovidae unit just as they were on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. A battered Adulsworth did not argue and was only too grateful to lead his unit back to Eydelvise. The day was completely lost and all they could do now is try to survive and hope they would be strong enough to fight the next battle.

The sudden snap of sails in the wind made him look up in surprise and he blinked in astonishment when he saw a large squadron of their dragon-allies fly back towards battle by the river. They flew in a clear attack formation, the two chevrons passing overhead too quickly to make out any proper details. Then he snorted in surprise when he realised what he was thinking!

Dragon... allies?

"What the hell are they doing?" the only cervine Alliance member asked astounded as he looked up to follow the attacking dragons as well.

"I don't..." Adulsworth started to say, but then he caught himself. He knew what was happening and it was not right to deny the truth any further. Especially as a group of gryphons also passed overhead, trying to catch up with the counterattacking dragons. "They are returning to the river!"

"Why?" a surviving dwarven engineer grunted contemptuously as the gryphons reached the dragons and fell in by their wingtips. "What is left of the elves are in full rout. The battle is lost."

"If the river falls, most of the army is not going to make it back to the castle," Adulsworth stated solemnly, turning his attention back to where the enemy dragons had started to realise the Dragonriders were coming at them hard. "The dragons are assisting our rear-guard, so they won't crumble under the enemy dragons' attacks."

"But why?" the deer who had spoken earlier asked with a scoff. "Why are the Shadowspawn saving us? From their own kind nonetheless?"

"I don't understand either," Adulsworth started to say, but then he recalled the mention of the Cynderskies from when the Dragonriders first arrived in the forest. He really needed to look that up, and soon as well it may seem. But for now, there was no other possible explanation he could think of and he could barely believe it himself even as he was saying it: "I think... they... may have been on our side all along."

"That is impossible!" a human Alliance member snorted with disdain. "Shadow fighting shadow?"

"Then how would you explain what has happened today, what you have seen with your own eyes?" Adulsworth snapped, rounding on the human. In the distance, the two groups of dragons met violently once more and as the Alliance Colonel turned to regard them, he idly wondered if there was a clear distinction between light and shadow dragons. "Before today, it was simple to explain everything they did away as them cunningly trying to trick us... but the Annuals of Light clearly states that there is no greater proof of commitment to a cause than laying down one's very life. And you cannot deny that they have done so today, can you?"

"I… guess you have a point, sir," the cervine spoke up again when the lower-ranked human only stared at a spot on the ground. "But how do you intend to explain all this to the High Commissioner? The order to bring him the hearts of both the Lúg'hir and the Roccan'hir is still one of the primary articles in the Charter of Light. In fact, you may face disciplinary action for not finding a way to harvest the organs for him when they first came the forest."

"I'm not worried about such disciplinary action," Adulsworth scoffed. "After the Banzinen Incident, The High Command has made it imperatively clear that we are not to act outside our jurisdiction and you know we do not have any authority in these forests. No, what worries me more is... is... I don't even know how to explain it, to be honest. I will need to pray and meditate on this before I can make a decision. I am clearly at a critical fork in the road of my life and I need guidance to make the right choice."

"Then I suggest that you pray quickly, sir!" a bovine Alliance member stated solemnly. "Remember, if we don't act soon, Juinkarr is sure to rise again before the next four months are done. And then we are all in deep…"

"Don't remind me!" Adulsworth grunted, giving the fighting on the riverbank one last look. Their ally-dragons had succeeded in stabilizing the rear guard again, though the fighting looked intense, even from this distance. "But come, first we must return to Eydelvise."

***

With a furious snarl, Gahntuar bit at the shoulder of the dragon he was grappling with. The Umbrin screamed and kicked desperately at Gahntuar's stomach, but the claws on the attacker's hind paws scratched uselessly across the golden codpiece. The piece of armour that all the Lúgae despised did its job admirably at protecting the soft scales of the drakes stomach, but the Umbrin still managed to separate from the murderous Lúg'hir and quickly fled back east, barely making it back across the river.

Gahntuar had barely dispatched the Umbrin before another came for him, but that one was quickly mobbed by three gryphons and the blue had to break off his attack. Gahntuar looked around, desperate to find the Claw. But after the Lúgroccae had managed to escape and link up with the gryphons, she has been holding her distance. He did catch a brief glimpse of the dark brown brake who seemed to be one of her deputies, but it was only a brief glimpse at best and he wasn't sure if he had identified the drake correctly.

"There goes the river again!" Merec called out, his voice tight with the pain from his shoulder.

Gahntuar looked down for a moment and his heart sank when he saw the Bovidae line break. He swore and with a sharp roar, he called the Lúgroccae to join him in one last attack dive to give the minotaurs the best chance at escape. But just as he was about to lead the attack and spray the last of his fire across the orcs, the human on the black gryph called him back. He pointed and to Gahntuar's surprise, he noticed how the Tigirae and Leonae attacked the pursuing orcs from either side, surprising them completely and causing their resolve to waiver.

"Now, sir! Hit them now!" Farriha called out as she came sweeping in from the side. Her armour was torn as well and she was bleeding profusely from a bite wound, also to the shoulder. Still, despite the bleeding gash, she seemed as energetic as ever. "Hit them before they can rally again!"

Understanding the draine's intention, Gahntuar repeated his order and swooped over the orcs, bathing them in the last of his fire. Behind him, the Lúgroccae followed suit, though many just roared out in defiance to cause even more confusion in the orcs' ranks as their fire was already depleted. To his surprise, several of the gryphons joined in the dive, providing them cover against and Umbrin attempts to try and counter-attack.

This attack from above proved to be too much for the orcs and they broke spectacularly, fleeing back across the bridge they just won back again. Gahntuar hissed angrily as he glared after them and he was about to pursue when there was an equally angry squawk next to him. The next moment, the black gryph came to hover right in front of Gahntuar, intentionally blocking his way.

"You better not be thinking of pushing after them!" the gryphon screeched insistently at him. "Fall back!"

"We'll fall back when we know it is safe to do so!" Gahntuar hissed still high on adrenaline as some of the felines on the ground below start to pursue the orcs across the river. The drake wanted to add something, but he was interrupted by the blare of a trumpet called their allies back.

"We'll provide cover..." the gryphon started to reply, but then he two was interrupted by a long, drawn-out roar from a dragon in the far distance. All around the battle area, the Umbrins did not hesitate and eagerly turned back to the safety in the east.

"That was Ikessa!" Gahntuar hissed, his crest immediately erected in agitation again.

"She is withdrawing," Merec hissed, the pain in his voice finally getting through to the drake. He turned his head to look worriedly at his rider.

"As should you!" the gryphon snapped, leaping at the opening the drake's hesitation gave him. "Now go! Get your people out of here!"

"I," Gahntuar hesitated, looking down to see that all the forces were withdrawing from the river. The orcs still held the bridge itself and were in the process of securing the fortifications nearby as well, but they were not making any attempt to pursue the last lines of felines who had taken up a formidable defensive formation as they started to return to the castle.

The disastrous day was finally at an end.

A sudden weariness came over Gahntuar and he found he barely had the strength to remain in the air. With a tired gasp, he roared out the order to retreat as well and turned his snout back to Eydelvise Castle. The Lúgroccae turned as one and followed their leader gratefully. The gryphons remained behind for a second or so before they two followed the beaten dragons back to safety, keeping to the rear to make sure none of the Lúgroccae fell behind.

The day was lost, but many of them still lived at least to fight another day.

***

"Quatt..." Ikessa bit back the curse on her lips as she landed harder than she had intended under the overhang from where she had directed the battle. Trying to distract herself, she turned to lick at a deep cut to her shoulder. She definitely did not want to accidentally summon the Master with a thoughtless comment right now, but the thought of the Shameblood made her hiss in anger again. He had escaped again! Her plan had worked flawlessly and still, he managed to hold his own and escape. How did he do it? What did he have that she lacked? Divine protection? "Bloody balls, why in Gullivarth's name is he still alive!"

"Lady, Ikessa!" a joyous orc suddenly called out next to her. Still battle-ready, Ikessa whirled around to sink her teeth into his neck, but she recognized the chief of the orc clan from the Edrein valley just in time. He was smiling broadly at her, more than she had thought was possible for any bipedal creature.

"My lady," the orc smiled, not realizing how close he had come to being bitten just now. He bowed low in genuine admiration when the draine's gaze fixed on him. "Congratulations on a glorious victory. In all my years of fighting in this forest, I have never seen the elves outmanoeuvred as spectacularly as today. Truly, you are the greatest of all the Claws who had ever served the Master!"

And he could talk! His father had been the one to sack Eydelvise some twenty years ago and his clan was the one that was responsible for most of the military actions against the elves ever since. As such, he was considered the most dominant of the orcs chieftains present at this battle. But for the life of her, she couldn't recall his name.

"Victory?" Ikessa hissed furiously. "How can you call this a victory? That... infuriating Shameblood escaped us yet again. No wonder Seghrien hated him so much!"

"But my lady," the orc stated calmly, finally realizing that the Claw was still very much agitated from the fight. "The elven army in the north has been utterly decimated, while most of our forces are still intact. And with the war material we won off their fallen comrades today, their position will become completely unsustainable. Even with the castle in their possession, they cannot hope to stand for long against us!"

"And please tell me," the blue draine hissed irritated. "How does that help me with the task given to me by the Master?"

"It is only a matter of time before the elven ground forces are annihilated!" the orc insisted patiently, nodding in understanding at the Claw's predicament. "And as you have shown, in war dragons are vulnerable to other dragons without someone protecting the ground beneath them. So, no matter what happens now, with the elves defeated those Lumor dragons and their riders will never be able to escape the forest."

Ikessa stared at the orc for a long, hard minute as she considered his logic for a moment. Then, she smiled deviously, giving him a nod.

"I believe you are right," she admitted with a relieved sigh. "Thank you for reminding me not to fixate on the prey during a drawn-out hunt."

She turned to face west again, looking at where the ruined castle was just visible on the hilly horizon downstream. This may not be the direct victory she had hoped for, but the chief was right: It was still a great victory for the Shadowland cause. And she had been patient for almost a decade now... what will a few more weeks be?

"The trap may not have killed the Lumors outright, but it has crippled them, " she stated confidently again. "They will have no choice but to barricade themselves in the ruins of the old castle. But they are alone out here, and once we surround them, there will be no one who will be able to come to their aid. Yes, that the castle will be their tomb!"

With the firm knowledge that it would soon be fulfilled, her vow flared brightly in her chest once again.

***

Gahntuar's front legs gave out as he landed heavily on the dead lawn that once adorned the lower terrace of Eydelvise.

"Gullivarth's pecker!" he swore, sitting down as he suddenly found he barely had the strength to get up again.

"Don't insult your origins!" Merec smirked automatically, but the human's usual reply rolled less easily off his tongue than usual as he hissed with pain.

"Shut up!" Gahntuar hissed furiously back at his rider. The comment usually had the drake smirk mischievously, but now he was not in the mood for anything but to wallow in misery. With eyes flashing angrily, he twisted around to nip at his human, but he never followed through with his intention.

"I'm sorry," Merec apologized, hanging his head in honest shame. But instead of feeling vindicated, the apology made Gahntuar feel even more miserable again. Merec was visibly paler than usual and he seemed a little shaky, but still tried to bravely smile through his pain.

"No, I'm sorry," the drake whined, unable to look away from the mangled arm. Had he pushed too hard at the Umbrins during that last action? True, he had seen skilled Green Magi heal worse wounds perfectly, but even so, it was going to be a painful couple of weeks for Merec. "How are you doing?"

"I've been better!" Merec stated, leaning carefully over to look at Gahntuar's bleeding side. "How about you?"

"I'll survive," Gahntuar tried to grin. "Seghrien banged me up worse than this before."

Merec was about to comment when there was a sudden wail of anguish from a drake nearby. It was quickly followed by another and then a whole chorus. They turned to see a small group of Lúgae huddling together, trying to console each other. They were all banged up in various degrees of seriousness, but the critical aspect they shared was that they were all now riderless. There was also a human with them, hugging the snout of a yellow draine who was not his steed.

Tembarah was walking amongst the survivors, she and Kerron trying to offer condolences though they were one of the few pairs not to have suffered any major injuries. Gahntuar caught a few of the mourning dragons turn to glare at him and he quickly turned his head away, not daring to look them in the eyes. He could suddenly not face them.

"So, it... it finally happened," he muttered dejectedly.

"What are you talking about?" Merec asked worriedly, not having seen the glares from the group of dragons as he was looking around, trying to catch sight of Aerhin and Jerielle.

"I've led them too far!" Gahntuar growled softly, angry with himself. "They trusted me, and I only lead them to disaster."

"I... you didn't," Merec stated, but without conviction. What could he say? He was acutely aware that it had been Gahntuar's worst fear when they first started forming the Lúgroccae, to lead the dragons who dared to followed him to their deaths. And how many of them will now never see the sunrise again? "You are not alone in this, I am with you! I always have been and always will be!"

Jerielle finally appeared, limping painfully over to them. Aerhin seems to be okay still and had dismounted her, leading the unsteady draine and he studied her wounds worriedly. He was wiping blood from her torn ear away from her cheek with a handkerchief, trying to get a better look at the injury.

"What does the damage look like?" Merec asked quickly. He didn't really want to know, he could see they had suffered a terrible beating. But it was a task that had to be completed.

"It is bad, sir," Aerhin muttered. "Of the original thirty-five pairs, eighteen are completely missing. We know half of them had been destroyed outright, but there is little hope of the others making it back here. A further seven pairs have been broken: We've lost six riders, and at least one dragon. Then, of the remaining ten pairs, most need urgent attention," he cast Jerielle' bloody shoulder a worried glance "Us included."

"Of the five scout dragons we brought with us, only Farriha and Emourah made it back to the castle," Jerielle added softly, looking around to where the two mentioned dragons were huddled together.

"What about... Roccan'her Harald?" Merec asked, his voice catching in his throat for a moment.

"We… don't know where he is either," Aerhin admitted with a shake of his head. "The command post where he was stationed at the start of the day had been overrun shortly after Ikessa sprung her trap. Most... most there did not survive. But I'll keep on asking around."

"Great Gullivarth!" Gahntuar hissed appalled. "What... what about Audenier and Charl?"

Aerhin just shook his head sadly.

"We haven't seen Roccan'her Charl and Lúg'her Audenier since the gryphons first arrived..." Jerielle finally said softly, looking around again as Farriha also limped over to join them.

"How are you doing, sir?" the olive-green draine asked, looking worriedly down at where Gahntuar was still sitting crouched in the dirt.

"Please... don't call me that!" Gahntuar muttered dejectedly, looking down at the dead grass.

"Why not?" Jerielle asked, surprised.

"I... I have failed you!" Gahntuar continued, not daring to look up at the two draines standing guard over him.

"With all due respect, sir! You have not!" the red draine hissed angrily. She thought for a moment to nip reprimanding at him but then thought better of it. But had the rest of the Lúgroccae not been present, the self-loathing drake would have gotten more than an earful of her mind.

"But I have!" Gahntuar snapped, finally looking up at her. "I've only led us to ruin today!" As he spoke, he recalled the words of the phoenix just before they heard they were to come here. Valley of sorrow and ruin indeed! If he ever managed to get back to the Amber Tower, he was going to be eating that phoenix stuffed and roasted! But his anger at the firebird failed to keep its heat as he heard the painful whimpering of dragons who had lost dear friends. "I... I am not my grandfather … he could lead dragons."

"No, I'd say you are better!" Aerhin stated quickly and confidently.

"I agree!" Merec added firmly. "Together, we have brought the Lumors and Seleborians together like never before. You have succeeded in this where your grandfather had tried and failed!"

"No one here is blaming you for what happened, sir!" Farriha added more gently than the others, leaning in to nuzzle the demoralized drake reassuringly. "Look at them... yes, they are mourning fallen friends, but we all knew the risks we will be asked to take when we first signed up for training. We all knew this day would eventually come. And we are still here... still willing to follow you wherever you may go!"

"Hear-hear!" Aerhin agreed, daring to smile confidently.

"But," Gahntuar started to argue, looking back again at the lower-ranked dragons. But the argument dried on his tongue when he suddenly realized the glances were not of scorn or regret, but confirming that he was still okay. That all of them who had made it back to the ruined castle was still okay.

"We are the Lúgroccae and when each one of us graduated, we made a promise to come to the aid of those in need!" Jerielle announced proudly. "What we did today, that is exactly what we have always said we would and when asked again, we will do so again. Without regret or hesitation!"

"Surely, there has to be something I could have done better," Gahntuar sighed, still uncertainly.

"Not really, sir," Farriha sighed. This time it was she who could not quite look at them. "That is what I came to tell you: The elven colonel left in charge of the castle is looking for you, but I told him he can wait until you received medical attention. But I did overhear him receiving an urgent order just now. The message was delayed a bit, but we are to hold our position here at Eydelvise and not press on ahead as originally planned."

"What?" Merec asked, surprised. "Why?"

"The elven second army at Ghrathelle tried to strike at the orc main horde a few days ago," the draine admitted, still looking out to the reddening sun as it started to set. "Only, they found that it was not an army of thirty-thousand orcs as initially thought. Instead, there was only two hundred orcs and as many goblin spellcasters, tasks with maintaining the appearance of a large horde encampment."

"The camp near Ghrathelle was only a decoy!" Aerhin realised with a scowl.

"Exactly!" Farriha sighed. "The elves to the east don't know where the enemy is. They never did."

"Don't worry," Merec growled angrily. "We found them!"

"So you see, there was nothing anyone of us could have done differently!" Farriha concluded. "Had that message arrived last night as it should have, none of this would have happened!"

There was another whoosh of sails in the wind and Audenier practically crashed to the ground next to them. Charl shook limply in the saddle but managed to hold himself up. Four more Lúgae followed him into the castle grounds, though Gahntuar could not help notice that at least one of them didn't have a rider.

"Audey!" Farriha squeaked in evident relief, rushing up to the blue drake as fast as her wounded shoulder allowed and nuzzling him like a long lost lover.

"I... I'm okay," Audenier lied as he gasped for breath, collapsing to the ground as well. "Just... spent. How... how is the Lúg'hir?"

"I'm still okay!" Gahntuar quickly said.

"Thank all that is good!" Charl managed to say.

Gahntuar finally felt well enough and he stood up again, intending to step forward towards the crumpled blue drake, but then he yelped in pain. All the dragons there suddenly snapped their heads up to look worried over to him. As Gahntuar picked himself up again, he suddenly realized that he was cradling a badly injured forepaw to his chest.

"We are all in really bad shape," Merec stated, starting to undo his flight harness. "I suggest we find where the Green Magi had set up their treatment centre."

"Couldn't agree more," Gahntuar rumbled, before nipping at Merec. "But you stay where you are! You don't look like you can stand without help."

"They are by the Great Hall!" Farriha quickly added as Merec wisely decided not to argue with his dragon.

"Good then," Gahntuar stated curtly as he turned to go. "Let's go then."

"Wait," Merec stopped him when he looked back at the beaten-down Lúgroccae. "I think we should say something to them."

"What can we say in a moment like this?" Gahntuar sighed, not having the strength to seem regal. "Words will not make things better."

"I know, but still," Merec insisted. "Can you please turn around to face them?" Wordlessly, Gahntuar obeyed and Merec cleared his throat, both to get their attention and to stall for a bit of time. He did feel like he should say something but now that the attention was on him, he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Come everyone, gather around us!" Merec finally stated. Many of them had difficulty walking, but they complied as quickly and dutifully as possible. "I know that we have suffered a great defeat today, and worse than that, we have lost dear friends, both dragon and rider. I do not have any words that will make today any better," he tapped Gahntuar's neck reassuringly, careful to avoid the deep cut on the shoulder, "nor do I think they exist. But I will have you know that I am proud of you today. We should all be proud of what we have achieved. Though at great cost, we have denied the horde a complete victory today. They may have the day, but we still live to fight again. We will return and because of today, we will be stronger than ever before."

"Hear-hear!" Charl agreed loudly, sounding better than he had only a moment before.

There were cheers and roars of agreement, but they lacked any true emotion. Still, as Gahntuar turned around again to lead the broken Lúgroccae towards badly needed treatment, he couldn't help but notice the mood had lifted, even if ever so slightly.

"I guess you were right," Gahntuar grinned softly as he started to climb the stairs leading up to the Great Hall.

"Thank you," Merec sighed. Gahntuar halted for a moment, shocked by how tired his human sounded. Resisting the urge to look around again, he continued slowly up the stairs again. Only to come to another stop when he reached the upper garden. Most of the other units were congregated here as expected, but it was the contingent of gryphon-knights who had him hesitate. The gryphons were standing in lose formation, their riders at ease next to their steeds as they were taking rollcall. A soft growl escaped Gahntuar as he regarded them.

"I'm not in the mood for their snide remarks either," Merec grunted, giving the drake another reassuring tap to the neck. "But our people need to get medical assistance, so we'll just have to ignore it."

"Easier said than done!" Gahntuar hissed as he made eye contact with the black gryphon in particular. The gryphon captain quickly spun around to face him as the dragon started limping forward again and the drake prominently looked towards the Great Hall. "So, what do you think he will say first? 'We told you so!' or 'Leave before you get us all killed!'?"

"Let's just focus on getting to..." Merec started to say when he was interrupted by a harsh screech from the gryphon they were discussing.

"Company!" the gryphon ordered loudly, his voice echoing off the broken spires around the defeated army. "Atten-hut!"

The gryphons and humans scrambled quickly into parade formation, standing at attention and awaiting further orders. Gahntuar stopped dead still again, blinking at the display in surprise.

"What in the name of...?" Jerielle started to ask softly behind him, but the gryphon captain was not done.

"Company, pre-sent Arms!" The was the hiss of steel being drawn and the sables were held up at the ready. For their part, the gryphons held up their right forepaw as if ready to strike. "Salute!"

Audenier reached the top of the stairs just as the humans and gryphon saluted them.

"What is going on?" the blue drake asked dumbfounded.

"I don't..." Gahntuar started to say, still rooted to the spot when he was interrupted by another voice calling from the other side of the walkway.

"Company! Atten-hut!" The dragons at the top of the stairs turned their heads and blinked in more surprise as a Leonae commander ordered his soldiers to attention this time. As the gryphon-knights had done just now, the lions scrambled into parade formation on the other side of the broken path the dragons had intended to take. But before they could present their arms for the salute, another voice called out.

"Company!" This time, it was the tigers next to the lions who reacted.

"It... it is an honoury salute!" Charl gasped, shocked as the Bovidae were called to attention.

"Get on, quickly!" Jerielle hissed urgently to Aerhin as she dropped into a crouch.

"Are you sure you're well enough..." the elf started to argue but she silenced him with a quick, discrete nip.

"Don't argue now, just get on!" the red draine hissed. Aerhin complied if a little unsurely and as soon as Jerielle was standing again, Gahntuar started to move forward.

The Lúg'hir marched forward with prancing movements as he tried to seem regal again, like when they were five lost dragons who first arrived at the Amber Tower a decade prior. But sadly, he was limping too badly and the movement was nothing but comical. Behind him, he knew the rest of the Lúgroccae followed in a no better state, but it did not matter. The other units firmly held their salute until all the dragons had limped past. Ahead the Varanidae, the Cervidae and even the elves were being called to give their salute.

Gahntuar's step faltered slightly again when he noticed that even the Alliance of Light was giving them a salute. Though they were huddled away in one dark corner and many of them did not seem very impressed with the order, the drake guessed that it was more peer pressure than true admiration making them join in. But it didn't matter to him what they thought of the display. The resentment and self-doubt he had struggled with only moments ago was suddenly washed away by the honour bestowed on them, by all the units that had disdained them for so long.

He had never been prouder than he was at that moment as he led the crippled Lúgroccae past the salutes up to the Great Hall.

***

"After a stalemate of nineteen years, significant progress was finally made in the war for the Ealyndore Forest, although it was not what the elves had envisioned when they had prepared for their spring offensive. With the destruction of two-thirds of their Northern [First] Army, the elves completely lost control of the entire eastern half of Ealyndore Forest.

In an unprecedented move, Field-Marshal Veryalas completely evacuated Eydelvise Castle the day after the disaster of the Echoren River, withdrawing what was left of his entire force before the horde managed to entrap them in the crumbling ruin that did not offer any true defensive advantage at that time. As such, he managed to bolster the unoccupied defences of the Vedui Tí [literally, the 'Last Line' of defence], a low ridge of fortified hills halfway between Echoren and Belegnen rivers. With Eydelvise now completely in the possession of the horde, Port Ghrathelle fell to the orcs a month later.

If the Siege of Corrumwhell had been the birth of the Lúgroccae, then undoubtedly the Massacre on the Echoren River was our coming-of-age, for it is not the victories we achieve that define us but how we face the adversities that try to pull us down. The top strategists with us would later decide that, had it not been for the Lúgroccae that day, the horde would have annihilated the elven army. This would have left the entire forest open to raid and plunder, and without the Vedui Tí, the unopposable orcish advance would eventually have ended up threatening the elvan capital itself.

But however great history may look upon us in the coming centuries, I am still filled with sorry when remembering our friends who had to pay the Wages of Honour that day. Yet, looking back at that horrible day with the knowledge of the present, I must admit that without their sacrifice, the Lúgroccae itself would not have survived to see the end of summer.

Now, with the great storm clouds growing in strength around us where we have decided to make our final stand against the demon who had hunted me all my life, I can only beg of Gullivarth that Merec and I will also have to courage to see through what must be done, to pay our dues in safeguarding those whom we wish to protect."

From the memoirs of Gahntuar skir Ignehur, the first Lúg'hir of the Lúgroccae.

END.