Her golden hair flapped in front of her face, shrouding her vision, as she went flying back twenty or so feet. She landed on her back in the sand and slid atop of it for a short distance before finally stopping. Grunting with effort and wincing in pain, Ivory propped herself up to her elbows and looked through bruised eyes at Durn as he stomped toward her, his battle-axe held in both hands. Blood dripped along the blades and knowing that it was hers brought a rush of cold creeping up her spine. Her armour was battered and dented in numerous places, she felt certain that one of her legs was broken, it hurt to breathe and a warm liquid, most likely blood, dripped down from her nose and on her lips. Her silver axe lay in the sand to her right, within reach, and she stretched her arm toward it slowly. Her fingers ached but they found their strength once they wrapped around the weapon's haft.

Looking at Durn as demons and Moharans fought, killed, and died all around her she spat blood from her mouth and offered him a grin. "You don't scare me, so-called King of the Damned. Kill me all you want. It won't mean anything."

Durn stopped walking when he was right in front of her, his white mask looking down at her as his grey hair draped over his shoulders. "I find myself agreeing with you; your life indeed means nothing."

He raised his axe and Ivory lay back on the sand, looking up at the sky. She had killed more demons than she could remember and dying to Durn wasn't exactly a horrible way to go. She had fought him well despite him showing no wounds of the battle. With the sounds of violence and death filling her ears she closed her eyes and smiled contentedly. She hadn't been much use to her friends anyway. Aragol was faster, Boog was stronger, Elmar had more ability, Karmen was smarter, Graham was kinder, Casandra was more nurturing, Celestia had more purpose and Victoria was braver. Ivory had no place with them. She had fought alongside them and had enjoyed her time with them but her story had nowhere else to go. Her time was up.

Still smiling, she let Durn's axe fall, pleased that at least she had the honour of dying on a battlefield.

****

Celestia swerved beside a looming sand dune before her, the rush of air pulling her black hair back and brushing alongside her entire body. Her eyes were covered in a thin, transparent lid which allowed her to keep them wide open as she flew without them drying up. She flapped her wings hard and dove closer to the ground, her clawed hands briefly grazing the sand. Glancing back, she noticed that her pursuer was just as close to her as she had been before.

"Your fancy new wings won't stop me from killing you!" Athena called out with a laugh. "I've always enjoyed a good chase anyway!"

Celestia flapped harder but she was still new to flying and worried that Athena would eventually catch up to her. She had no structure to fly around and hope for her pursuer to collide into other than sand dunes and that strategy was proving futile.

Looking back once more, she saw Athena's sword swing down at her. She let out a short cry and pulled her legs closer to her body just before it sliced into them. Athena's face was frowning in intense determination as she neared closer. Inch by inch she gained. Her arm raised and her purple sword, black tentacles swirling around it, glowed bright. A smile crept on her face.

Celestia looked ahead and screamed as a white shape suddenly flew toward her. She dove and hit the ground beneath her, rolling and bouncing several times as the sound of swords clashing rang against her ears. When she stopped moving she sat up and stretched her wings, grateful that they were yet intact. She then looked toward the sound of battle.

Yzara was locked in combat with Athena and the two were clashing in an aerial sword fight, hovering above with their blades in a flurry of movement. Yzara was graceful and agile whereas Athena was all rage and brute force. Yzara flapped hard, her wing tips brushing against the sides of Athena's face just as the young woman thrust ahead with her sword. Yzara parried it aside and then kicked out with one of her talons. It sliced a deep gash across Athena's midsection and she cried out in pain. Using the cry as an opening, Yzara slammed her left wing into Athena's temple and came toward her at an angle, her left shoulder leading as her right hand held one of her swords pointed forward. Athena recovered quickly and swung her left arm down, pushing the blade aside just before it sunk into her chest. Yzara carried two blades, however, and the second came up from hanging at her side, its tip angled to catch Athena under her rib cage.

Athena slammed her own sword against it and then shot out her left fist, cracking it into Yzara's face before the owl woman had time to fly back and plan another tactic. It dazed her for the slightest of moments but it was enough.

Celestia screamed when she saw Athena's sword poking up from the top of Yzara's head. The owl woman's wings went limp, her blades fell out of her hands, and she was unceremoniously tossed aside. Athena, grinning victoriously, brought her blade close to her abdomen wound and the tentacles along it touched it like curious fingers, healing it with every stroke until it was completely closed. Her head then snapped up and her cold, blue eyes settled on Celestia.

Celestia didn't flee, however. She flew up and hovered not far from where Athena floated. She glanced down at the ground, where Yzara's corpse lay on the sand, and then met her enemy's gaze, frowning deeply. "You'll pay for that, Athena! You and your group of villains will all pay!"

Athena smiled wickedly. "What do you expect to do about it? Are you going to scratch me with those little claws of yours? I'd like to see you try."

A loud cry, like that of a bird of prey, echoed across the desert, so loud it could be felt from within the body and mind. Celestia watched with satisfaction as Athena's smile disappeared and her face paled slightly.

"What did you do?" the swordswoman asked.

"I called some reinforcements," Celestia answered. She had felt the presence of something nearby, something immensely powerful, and had hoped to communicate with it and ask for its aid. She was eternally grateful that it had answered.

Athena glanced around and her smirk soon returned. "Whatever it is, I don't see it. That gives me enough time to kill you before it arrives!"

Celestia had called the force of power long before Athena had ever begun chasing her but she couldn't deny that at that very moment she was still alone and vulnerable. Having not the skill or the urge to battle with Athena she turned around and flew away.

Athena laughed and pursued.

****

Graham had nearly fled from his plan more than once but when he heard the cry of the distant bird it had filled his body with such hope and confidence that he had decided to try it anyway.

Looking down, he gulped away the fear rising within him as the ground, hundreds of feet below him, gradually shrank away. He raised his eyes and looked directly ahead to see the gargantuan form of Nilepyt filling his whole view. The sun glistened off its armour-like scales and shone along the spikes running along the sides and top of its long body. Rising higher into the sky, carried by the wind he was conjuring, his gaze followed the length of the Titan until he finally saw its terrible face. Full of spikes, horns, and bony protrusions the three-eyed serpent had its mouth clamped firmly against the sides of the Jewel of Fire. Long, crooked cracks ran along the length of the whole structure and it tilted at an odd angle, hanging in the sky as if an invisible hand was trying to pull it out of the serpent's grasp. Graham didn't know how it stayed aloft but he wanted to do all he could to try and aid it in getting higher.

He couldn't do that with Nilepyt's jaws clamped down on it, though.

Focusing on his task, he supressed as much fear and uncertainty as he could and willed the wind surrounding him to guide him closer to both structure and serpent. The objects before him were huge and though he moved toward them steadily it was as if he was floating in place. He looked down and could see that he was indeed moving closer, though. When he was close enough to see Moharans with glowing hands through the openings and windows of the Jewel of Fire he felt great heat and a putrid stench blow on him. The air was very humid and smelled of death and rot and he soon realized that he was feeling Nilepyt's breath upon his body even though he was yet hundreds of feet away from it. One of the serpent's teeth dug into the side of the Jewel of Fire directly ahead of him and the house-sized object brought an icy feeling in his veins. Fear's frost-covered claws dug into his flesh and his concentration wavered. His wind stopped blowing and he fell.

NO!

He shut his eyes and focused, the lingering feeling of hope and confidence brought upon by the bird's call fighting back the grip of terror upon him. A great gust of air then pushed up against him and threw him higher with great speed. He would not fall! He would not give up! He looked up and clenched his teeth. There was no time to be afraid. Every second passing allowed Nilepyt more time to crush the Jewel of Fire between its jaws.

As if intimidated by his determination, Nilepyt opened its mouth wider and let go of the floating structure. Its head turned to the south and Graham followed it, curious to know what could possibly take the Titan's attention away from the Jewel when it had been so close to destroying it.

His eyes widened and he gasped when a creature of flames as big as Nilepyt loomed over the southern horizon. It flapped its great wings, the sound of their beat like thunder, and let out another cry, once again filling Graham with strength and determination. Nilepyt answered the call with a roar so deep and rumbling that the city below it trembled.

"It's the Phoenix," Graham realized. Somehow it had arrived. Somehow it was here and was going to do battle with Nilepyt. The thought alone filled him with even greater strength and he flew higher up toward the Jewel of Fire. When he had reached it he searched for a landing platform he recognized and then guided himself toward it when he found it. As he had expected King Mevon stood on it with scores of other Moharans, gazing south at the approaching Phoenix.

Graham hovered beside him and then set his feet down on the smooth floor. He took a deep breath, regaining some energy, and eyed the king directly. The cobra king gazed at Graham hard.

"What do you want here?" he asked him. "I have no more soldiers to spare and most of my sorcerers are too exhausted to be of any aid. I am sorry but if you are here to ask for more help you will find none."

"Actually," Graham started, quelling the wall of shyness that was building at the thought of talking to royalty, "I am here to help you instead."

King Mevon cocked his head to the side slightly, his forked tongue poking out briefly. "How do you wish to aid me?"

Graham pointed to Nilepyt, whose attention was fully focused on the Phoenix approaching in the distance. "The Phoenix might be here to save us but it still has to fight Nilepyt to do that. The Jewel of Fire is still too low to be out of danger's way. I am here to help lift it high enough to save your people."

"How can you do this? Do you know magic?"

Graham closed his eyes and gripped the stone on his necklace. He conjured as much wind as he could, more than he had ever conjured before, and urged it to rise from below and push up against the lower sides of the Jewel of Fire. For many minutes nothing happened and King Mevon slithered off a distance, letting out a sigh of great disappointment. Graham ignored the sigh and shoved aside all other thoughts. He ignored another of Nilepyt's roars. He ignored the voices of the Moharans around him, full of fear and worry. He ignored his own thoughts of trepidation and doubt. He set everything in his mind aside except the thought of lifting the structure he stood on higher into the sky. An image of Celestia's pretty smile flashed through his mind and instead of pushing it aside as he had done to everything else he held on to it. He allowed it to give him more power. He wanted to see that smile again. He wanted once more to see the bearer of that smile as well.

The Jewel of Fire let out several cracking sounds and a deep rumble as if it had been struck against. The Moharans became afraid and their voices were rushed and hectic. Graham ignored them and kept willing the wind to gather and push. Blood dripped from his nose and pooled on the ground below him. He ignored that too. His head pounded and a painful headache began to develop but he ignored it all.

"We're rising up faster!" he heard a Moharan call out.

"We're going up!" said another.

"We'll be safe!" shouted several more.

Graham kept his mind focused amidst the cacophony of excitement all around him and began to tremble as a steady stream of blood leaked from his nostrils. His mind felt light and dizziness began to overtake him.

A scaly hand gripped his shoulder and though he wanted to look up he didn't. He had yet to finish his task. A rush of warmth and ecstasy seemed to flow from the hand and surge throughout his body. The dizziness and light-headedness disappeared and he felt renewed and reenergized. Now with more energy than ever before he focused even more intently and Moharans began cheering, celebrating that the Jewel of Fire was now so high that it was well out of reach of Nilepyt and its jaws.

Satisfied with hearing that, Graham broke his concentration and took a deep, calming breath. He glanced to the side to see King Mevon there, a grateful grin on his reptilian face. His hand was still upon his shoulder.

"You healed me?" Graham asked him.

"I was not always a king, savior of the Jewel," the king replied. He gestured to the open sky. "Have a look for yourself. You saved us all. We are now so high that even the Titans themselves seem small."

Graham walked to the edge of the platform and looked down to discover that the king was right. Nilepyt now appeared the size of a regular snake and a bird of flame was almost upon it. Graham saw low clouds of black converging on the battlefield, which looked like nothing more but a gathering of ants, and eyed King Mevon curiously.

"What are those clouds doing? It's like they're moving toward the battle."

"Those aren't clouds," the king replied. "It appears that whatever or whoever called the Phoenix also called every avian creature from around the area. If you look closely, you will see the glint of blue armour belonging to Holaarian soldiers. For the moment at least, it appears as if the day is saved!"

Graham watched the scene unfold, his eyes wide and the mental image of Celestia clear in his mind.

****

Durn's axe fell with speed and power and yet it never hit its target. Something knocked against its side and it sunk into the sand less than inch from Ivory's head, severing some tresses but never shedding blood.

Ivory opened her eyes just as Aragol burst on the scene, retrieving the dagger he had thrown against Durn's axe head. He pointed Dragon's End at the masked man and gazed at him with hard eyes full of coppery fire.

"We never finished our last duel," Aragol said to him.

Durn replied by sweeping his axe at his legs, forcing him to hop back. "Allow me to do you the favour!"

Aragol lunged into the opening and slashed across Durn's abdomen, cutting deeply. He then slammed his blade against the axe's backswing, the two weapons clanging loudly, and held it in place as the wound closed and healed. He shoved the axe away and leapt aside just as Durn thrust his axe-head forward. The masked man one-handedly swung his axe to Aragol's right and reached ahead with his left hand. Aragol sidestepped the grasping fingers and slashed his sword in an upward swing, severing the hand cleanly. It fell into the sand and Durn advanced on him, as if wanting to tackle him to the ground. Aragol bent down and swung Dragon's End behind him before reversing his swing, using the momentum to add more power. Durn blocked the swinging blade with his axe's shaft, clanging loudly, and then pushed it down. Aragol pulled his sword toward him and spun aside, hopping on his feet lightly. Durn's axe followed him. He turned around at the apex of one hop and slashed down at Durn's exposed neck. His sword cut the masked man's head from his shoulders just as his axe sunk into his side.

Durn's body fell in a heap and Aragol fell with it, the axe's entire head buried into him. He cried out in excruciating agony, his hand clenching Dragon's End tightly, and looked down at the gruesome wound. Durn's battle-axe had one of its two blades sunk so deeply into him that were it to move deeper by just a few more inches Aragol would be cleaved in half. Reaching with his free hand he painfully lifted the axe out of his body. Tears ran down his face and his teeth were clenched so tightly he worried they'd break but he eventually managed to remove the axe-head from his side. It was an eerie sight to see his bladder, intestines, and the top of his hip bones within the gap the axe-head had left behind but he was soon spared the image as his body healed the wound and closed it within seconds.

Aragol then stood up with a slight ache in his abdomen and looked over at his fallen enemy. Durn's body lay still but the masked head sat in the sand staring right at him, as if there was yet life in it. He could feel a disturbing sensation as he eyed the featureless mask. Somewhat pleased with the results of the brief engagement he turned his attention to Ivory. He helped her up and she apologized for giving up and being a failure but he silenced her with a finger on her lips.

"Now is no time for such thoughts, Ivory," he told her, his gazed fixed on hers. "Wrap your arm around my neck and let me take you to the healers."

"Aragol, we have hundreds of demons to walk through... Just...let me die..."

"Never."

"We'll never make it through. I'm just a burden. I'll get you killed."

"You saw what Durn did to me. If I can survive that I can survive these demons and so can you."

Ivory said nothing but did wrap her arm around Aragol's neck. Aragol enveloped his right arm around her waist and held Dragon's End in his left. Looking ahead at the army of black demons standing before him, their attention now on him and Ivory, he steeled his resolve and put a step forward.

One demon, resembling the mix of a panther and a porcupine, pounced forward, its claws extended and its fanged jaws open wide. Aragol braced himself and prepared to stab at it as it came down.

A shadow passed over him and just before the demon landed on top of him great talons dug into the creature's side, neck, and skull, and carried it away. Brown wings beat down hard as an eagle flew off, the dying demon clutched in its grasp. The other demons rushed Aragol and Ivory when they too were suddenly beset upon by all manner of winged creatures.

Scores of great eagles, some larger than the ones the Moharans rode, dove from the sky and picked up demons by the dozens, squeezing the life out of them within their talons or taking them into the sky and dropping them from incredible heights. Reptilian creatures with multiple heads and leathery wings descended upon the demon ranks and attacked the smaller ones, killing them with devastating bites and whips of their tails. Small songbirds of a myriad of colour attacked demons of all sizes and shapes, overwhelming them with pecks and scratches and blinding them by poking their eyes, their great numbers making up for their small stature. Large bats flapped down from the sky and wrapped their wings and claws around their prey, biting great chunks of flesh out of them before they could fight back. Gryphons, half lion and eagle, descended into the battlefield and shred demon flesh with claw and beak. Hippogriffs, similar to gryphons but being half horse and half raven, landed on the sand and galloped into battle, trampling the dark creatures with their hooves and stabbing them with their sharp, pointed beaks.

Aragol had never seen such an army of wild creatures before. Some he recognized from books he had read in Tiranor but others were completely unknown to him. One bird had tail feathers more than five times the length of its body that would electrocute anything they draped across. He was grateful that it, as well as all the other winged creatures, were on his side as they specifically seemed to be targeting the demons.

An owl-like being suddenly landed before Aragol, reminding him of Yzara. The owl man eyed Ivory with concern. "I am General Sandir of Holaar," he said to Aragol. "My army of Holaarians have arrived at last. We are sorry for the delay. My sister Yzara told me that we may be needed soon so we came as quickly as we could."

Aragol didn't know why he was speaking to him and not the king of Moharans but he moved Ivory forward, toward the general, more worried about her than trivial formalities. "I am High General Aragol Silversheen of Tiranor. She is Captain Ivory Fletcher and she is need of prompt healing attention."

A hippogriff then landed beside Aragol and Sandir, kicking up a cloud of sand as it struck the ground and beat its wings to ease its landing. It tossed its raven head and cawed at the silver-haired general. Aragol eyed it strangely and glanced at General Sandir. The owl man nodded his heart-shaped head and gestured to the hippogriff. "It wants to aid you, High General. Let it take Captain Fletcher to the healers."

Having no time to judge whether he should trust either the general or the hippogriff he lifted Ivory, who groaned in pain, and draped her over the hippogriff's back. "Hold on to its feathers," he told her. After watching her do just that he eyed the hippogriff and nodded to it. With a croak it spread its wings and took to the sky, carrying Ivory over the battle and through the throng of diving and descending winged creatures.

Get her there in time, he thought, hoping somehow the hippogriff somehow heard him.

He gazed around as General Sandir took wing to attack a group of winged demons that were overwhelming one of the large bats. Over the city, Nilepyt stood with its gaze to the south. Aragol felt a rush of heat descend upon him as if a second sun had appeared. He soon saw its source as a massive bird of fire streaked into view, its golden talons spread forward and their gleaming claws heading directly toward Nilepyt's body.

Aragol held his breath.

The clash of the Titans had begun.