Alone, man is weak. A frail being unable to stand up against the rigors of this world. Like a single grain of sand, such things will wash him away into the abyss. But compile that man together with another, then another, and yet another? Soon you will have a great beach. And while the waves may shift the sand, the beach remains after each assault upon it.

Jurul Garan - Priest of the Greater Goddess

"You betrayed us." The tip of Kilan's slim dagger burying itself into the tabletop acted as the only necessary punctuation for his opinion.

The stone hard glare of smug complacency plastered across Gwen Havarston's face was the only reaction he received. She sat there, arms folded, believing she'd earn a level of de facto respect solely because of having walked upon this world for almost sixty years. Kilan would be more than willing to knock her down a peg or two on behalf of Miss Crenst. And he wished with every tense fiber of his being she'd give the word.

Daphney met her elder rebel's demeanor with an equal amount of her own seriousness, trying to measure up to the woman. "He's right." The cleric leaned forward, but only slightly. "Lots of people died because you didn't uphold your word."

"My word?" Laughter accompanied the response as the older woman rebuffed the verbal assault hurled at her. "I promised you assistance."

"You promised us soldiers," Daphney countered.

The leader of this rebel faction sought to clarify her position. "I explicitly stated that none of the men or women under my command would participate in a suicide mission. And that's what Ishenvol was fated to become from the beginning."

Kilan stepped back into the fray, retrieving his blade. "Hindsight. Bloody hindsight. That's what your using to justify your inaction."

"No. It was obvious from the very moment I received the message of your request. It was too much to bite off at once." There was a shake of her head as Gwen defended her course of action. "What we needed to do is string together a series of modest victories. Show people that the Rebellion stood a chance. Pick our targets. Use our strengths to our advantage. And I agree that it needed to be something grander than meaningless raids on supply houses and remote barracks. But you wanted to make a grand statement. Gather an army so large the Empire had no choice but to know we meant business. And it was a slaughter. Do you know why?"

"Why?" Kilan's growl came along with the silently implied, "Please enlighten us oh wise one."

"First, because it took too long to assemble. That allowed Lord Hedric's armies to prepare their defenses. Second is because we are not an army. Our strength has always been guerilla tactics. Hit and run. Never marching in formations and fighting in neat rows upon a field of battle."

"More men might have made a difference."

Again, more laughter from the woman they had sought out. "You only fool yourself by thinking as much." She pointed at Daphney. "If you can't go toe to toe with the Red Witch, we don't stand a chance. Same thing will happen in every battle from here on out unless you find a way."

"How dare you insult Miss Crenst? She is a true cleric!"

"No," Daphney winced. She knew there was some amount of truth to the ridicule leveled against her. Her inability to stand up against evil had cost them. If she was unable to find her strength, how could she ask others to? "She's right."

"But Miss Crenst-"

"I will not have us quarreling amongst ourselves. We're already too fractured as it is. More division is not what we need at this point. We lost too many soldiers at Ishenvol. And we must move on and find a way to recover."

"Knowing your own strengths and weaknesses is a great first step in doing so." Gwen reclined in her seat with a slight slouch.

"And what do you see as my strengths and weaknesses?"

"Strengths? Easy." The faction leader rose and paced away from the desk between them. Then turned to face the cleric. "You potentially command unworldly power. Weaknesses? Right now? It is only potential. Look, your bodyguard here, Kilan, he's got a lot of good counsel to give you. But he's too brash." She eyed him, and it was obvious he didn't like that. "He thinks the solution to everything is force, or the threat thereof. I know what your plan in coming here was."

"Oh, do you?" Kilan crossed his arms.

"Yes. I do. Put me to death for being a traitor because I didn't send my troops. Most likely by assassination. A sentence already cast by a jury of the judge and the executioner." She looked to both Daphney and Kilan in succession. "But what you need to realize is that by me not sending my soldiers, I actually saved this Rebellion for you."

"How so?"

"How so? By leaving you some semblance of a force to fight with. Twenty score light cavalry. Three hundred archers. And over two thousand regulars trained with a sword, axe, or spear. Plus seven thousand militia that would come on my command."

Daphney considered those numbers. "Not many. But more than we have right now."

"Perhaps not as glorious of an army as you would wish. But enough. If we use them properly."

"And you'd have them follow me?"

"Follow you?" Once more Gwen's annoying laughter broke out. "No, not you. Me. They would follow me. And I would follow you. On one condition."

Daphney nodded. "Name it. Then I will decide."

"That you appoint me Supreme Leader of the Hitithe army. And that you convince all the remaining forces from the factions to fall in line under my command. You listen to my counsel on all matters military. I'll give you my opinion about what to do, and you will agree and not contradict me."

"That's all?" Now it was Daphney's turn to smile. But it was an expression that did not contain the slightest bit of pleasure.

"And one more thing."

Kilan took a step forward, his dagger more menacing than one would expect during a negotiation. "You said one condition."

"I decided on two." Gwen didn't portray the slightest bit of concern over the threat. "That our Revered Cleric here finds a way to harness that power within her. Because if she doesn't? All those soldiers? They won't make a lick of difference."

"I'll always do my best." Daphney stood.

"If what happened at Ishenvol is your best, then you're going to be looking for another ally. And good luck with that."

Daphney managed the slightest bow to acknowledge those words. She turned and left, trapped between wanting to just allow Kilan to do to this woman what he does best, and understanding her position. If the roles were reversed, Daphney couldn't say her demands would be any different.

"You can't let her walk all over you like that." Kilan matched her pace as they exited the two-room cabin serving as a makeshift headquarters.

Daphney emerged to a cover of fresh blanket of white on the ground. This far north, and a month out from the official beginning of winter, it was unusual for there to be such an early snowfall. And there was no denying it was much colder than it should have been for the time of year.

Daphney wasn't sure if she should take it as a sign of their impending doom and eventual defeat. Ever since they'd left the marsh, their travels north to join up with these remaining rebel forces had been hindered by the weather. "I prefer to think of it as regrouping. You'll notice I didn't give her an answer."

"Yeah, I did like that touch. Make her stew a bit."

"Look, there's a lot a stake. If we don't have these troops? What do we have?"

Kilan shrugged. "A snowball's chance? Unless you learn how to do the equivalent of what Lady Noranda did to us at Ishenvol."

"Exactly. And not likely. I can't do dark magic. So, we might have to give Gwen some, or all, of what she wants."

"She's trying to make you into a puppet." Kilan's observation was one that shouldn't need to be stated, but he did so anyway. "The leader of the Rebellion, much less a cleric of the Greater Goddess, should not answer to the military."

"She's a better tactician than I'll ever be."

"She's also too ambitious," Kilan reminded the cleric. "She wanted to be the leader of the Rebellion from the start and lost to Rwan in the final vote. She'll use this opportunity to get that position."

Daphney stopped. "Perhaps."

The suddenness of the cessation of her steps and Daphney's subsequent searching around caused Kilan to question her. "Ok, I don't like that look you're giving."

"Do you feel that?" The fine hairs on her arm were prickling. And not from the cold, even though the frigid air was certainly enough to do so. She spun around twice, surveying with a panicked sense there was something unnatural about.

"No. What?"

Seeking calm within herself, Daphney tried to identify the reaction she was having. It was familiar. She'd felt it before. At Ishenvol when Lady Noranda attacked. And to a lesser extent in the swamp when the demon assailed them. It was darkness, creeping, and feral. It hadn't dawned on her until now, but she recognized it after having experienced it before.

Then she turned her eyes skyward. And that's where she saw the source of everything she was sensing. Against the gray sky, she locked on to what was not much more than a black speck at this distance.

"Something not good," she muttered.

Kilan traced her gaze and also caught sight of the object. It was growing larger, headed towards them. And it looked like it had wings. "Oh, shit. A dragon."

"Something much worse," Daphney corrected him. What would soon be obvious, she knew, was that the coming enemy not what Kilian thought. It wasn't on the scale of Lady Noranda and her power, but it was something that would not be pleasant to encounter. Much more powerful than what they had witnessed in the swamp.

"I think we should go."

"No." That single word echoed around in Daphney's brain. And it surprised her as she said it. But there was an amazing calm washing over her. Even as others had also taken notice of the growing, menacing form and were scrambling in a panic, the young woman remained poised.

Despite the dread urging him to turn tail and run, Kilan stood with a loyal dedication by her side, drawing strength from her apparent serenity.

What came out of the air and slammed to the ground before them was no dragon. But its landing did shake the world. On a buckled knee, almost as if paying homage to its own corruption, was a creature so black and so rancid that its odor alone could gag a man to death. Huge wings, like those of a dragon spread out and then collapsed with a patience born from knowing victory was inevitable.

It rose, towering over Daphney by several feet, a collection of black plates that resembled living armor. Massive, ramlike horns curled out of its forehead above its maw of razor-sharp teeth. Demonic breath fogged with every exhale.

Kilan moved to step between the cleric and the beast.

As though he were nothing, the monstrosity swatted him away. There was a flare from the tattoo on his chest as the monster struck him, but it was only a minor impediment. Like a child's toy, it tossed him twenty feet. And the horror didn't even blink or tear its attention off of Daphney for a second.

Nor did the cleric take hers off it.

All around Daphney and the demon there was chaos. People ran in fear at the very sight of it. But between the two of them, there was calm.

"I've smelled you," the creature rasped. "The stench of holiness is about you. It disgusts me."

Daphney was more consumed with considering why on Geiha she was standing toe to toe with this monster than the taunting banter it spewed. She'd committed to facing it head on at this point, even if that might not have seemed like the most prudent course of action. But something about how Gwen Havarston had challenged her to be stronger made her stand there; forced her to confront the abomination.

Some might have considered it pride. But that's not what it was. Petrified, she wanted to run. She thought of every reason to do so. But what she needed to do was prove herself. If she couldn't do that, the Rebellion would not last.

She had to do something. Something she knew she should be able to do. The clerics of old had fought demons. Alone. Without swords or armies to back them up. Banished them back to The Dark with nothing more than faith alone. And if they'd done it, shouldn't she have the same potential? If she was a true cleric, as so many believed, she should.

And then her mind rewound back through her thoughts to a single word; pride. This creature had pride. Just how it hovered there, looming above her, looking down upon her with a smug superiority. It expected its own victory was imminent. There was no consideration that this woman would put up any resistance or stand in its way.

"Now you die!" It roared and raised its hand. Just the force from the downstroke alone would crush her.

That was enough to crack Daphney's faith. And despite fear coming over her as the downward beat of its attack commenced, she recognized that to defeat pride she had to be the mirror opposite. "I am humble," she muttered. "Without Earoni, I am nothing."

And as the demon's claws came down, they struck a light. A hard, firm, and resilient light. One that would not be broken through with sheer force. It surrounded Daphney; taking her into its protection like a child within a mother's womb.

Stunned, but recovering quickly, the demon came at her again. Resisted once more by the cocoon, its primal rage swelled. With blow after blow, it sought to overwhelm the puny woman before it. Only to be met time and again with continued frustration.

Amazed at how easily she had thwarted the demon, Daphney stood and considered how pathetic it now seemed. Like a child throwing a tantrum at not having its way. It was like she was inside a bubble within their previous bubble, and she was able to consider what she had accomplished.

She touched the light, caressed it from within, even as the demon assailed it from without. It was part of her. Something that, when she made contact with it, didn't seem alien to her at all. And she knew she would be capable of standing here all day and never feel threatened.

But she could do other things with it as well. The clerics of old, she knew, wielded light as a weapon. And with a mere thought of that, the radiant shell encompassing her collapsed into her. From it spouted a blazing sword of purity so bright that the demon had no choice but to stop and fall back before it.

With a stroke from her weapon, gleaming with confidence, she gashed open the chest of her physically superior foe. It reeled back, howling with such devastation that the air itself shook when its black armor tore open and boiled.

Daphney advanced. She didn't know how to fight. All she had were instincts and faith; faith that she could do the right thing when needed. Again she attacked.

The blow gouged into the monster's leg, buckling it and forcing it to bow this time for real. "What are you?" she demanded to know. "One of Lady Noranda's hell fiends?"

Staggered and grasping at its wounds, the demon roared back. "I am an eldest of the Cursed Ones! A child of Diur now set free to feast upon the weak of this world by the fallen one you call Lady Noranda."

"Not this day. You'll find no weakness here. Go! Tell the Red Witch that." Sword high, Daphney hovered it in the air before the creature. "Or, I could strike you down here and now and return you to The Dark. What will it be?"

The creature of darkness stared back at her for a moment, considering its choices. Then it vanished into a fog of blackness that dissipated into the winter like day.