"Do you think we can win this?"

The sandstorm was getting closer, with the Mawlinese army still hidden from sight. The air was crisp and cold, but neither of them felt the chill through the thick Gwentian clothing. Tia kept her hood down and her ears trained to nature, hearing its flow being manipulated by the enemy Windcaster. The closer the Mawlinese came and the stronger the Wind, the clearer the magic sounded. The coral-coloured orb atop her staff gleamed in the weak sunlight. Tia felt prepared, like she could make a difference, like they stood a chance.

"I believe so, Mommu," she said in a soft voice. The ground crunched with every step and the sand gave way a little as she pushed herself ahead.

"Even when the Mawlinese outnumber the troops? Even when they are better prepared than we? Even when they have greater resources than we?"

She smiled at him.

"These people have resilience. They have faith. Their will is phenomenal despite their dire circumstances. Any advantage the other Caster has over Gwent, I can dispel that when we get closer. Have faith, my friend. There is more to winning a battle than with just power."

"I would never have thought such wisdom would come from Tiamat." Tia pulled a face as Enlil came over on his carrier. Appointed by Lahar as the captain of the freed slaves, he and the other group captains were seated on animals, keeping their men updated and in check.  "I am surprised you are not throwing a tantrum, demanding we all hug and become friends with Mawlin."

"Thank you for your concern, Enlil," she shot back, flushing a little. "But even I have to face reality sometimes."

"And thank the Graces for that."

"I suppose you are aware of the plans, Enlil?" Mommu asked, scratching at his newly-cut hair. The cloak and heavy Caster's clothing fitted him well.

Enlil's jaw tightened as he nodded.

"Today, Mawlin shall meet their end. I am glad I am able to see the dawn of a new Dernexes. My only regret is that Master Anu will not be here to see it through with us."

Tia's eyes prickled.

"Grace be with him," they said in unison.

With that, Enlil returned to his men. Mommu stuck with Tia as they marched at the back of the troops, aiming straight for the sandstorm that raged ahead.

****

"Stay with me, Tia."

Screams, shouts and screeches of metal clashing against metal filled the air as Tia whimpered again. Mommu kept a steady grip of her hand, urging her on.

This was horrible. Despite all Lahar's training and talks, nothing could have prepared Tia for this. It was barbaric. Before her eyes, the people she had eaten with and laughed with lay dead on the ground, their crimson blood staining the sand. The people who she befriended and worked with were hacking at the Mawlinese soldiers with merciless expressions. Humans fell like leaves from a tree, left, right and centre.

Who the killers were and who the victims were, it was impossible to tell.

"No," Tia moaned, recognising the face of another fallen man. It was one of the scribes – the first one who'd approached her and welcomed her to the group. His eyes stared blankly up at the cloudy sky.

"Focus, Tia! Focus!" Mommu shouted. He sounded so far away. It was impossible to tear her eyes away from the horrible sight. Weapons clanged on weapons; screams pierced the air when the metal was met with flesh instead of more metal. Blood splashed on the ground. Dead bodies were being kicked around as though they were nothing more than discarded furniture. Waves after waves of shouting and yelling washed over her.

She forced herself to blank out the images before her and drown out the noises. It was so hard. The bodies reminded her vividly of the massacre of the Windcasters and at Ratho. The cries bore deep into her mind. The metallic scent of blood filled her nostrils. Death pressed upon her.

The sandstorm threatened to rise again as she felt her hold over it slacken. She swallowed and poured more of her energy in. She had an edge over the other Windcaster... just. She was more powerful, more talented, and she had just enough skill to overcome his Casting.

She could feel him struggling against her hold. The new energy he was pouring in pressed against hers, encouraging the storm's flow. She gritted her teeth. The Gwentians needed her to suppress the sandstorm. If the Mawlinese were to gain the upper hand with the Wind, the war would be over.

Beside her, Mommu grunted as he increased his efforts in response to the rising Wind. Tia glanced at him; sweat dripped down his tanned face as he gave his best efforts to keep the storm at bay from their hiding spot. She hadn't realised until that point they were so vulnerable.  It was all Mommu could do to take a trickle of the sandstorm and shield them mostly from sight, and even then, it was a fragile façade, susceptible to regular ripples in the barrier, through which the outside world could be seen. They needed somewhere high up to not have their Casting impeded, but when they stood inside the battlefield, it would only take one arrow to hit them and all would be over. Mommu's little cyclone was all that stood between their flesh and the flying arrows, giving them the same verdict as the fallen around them.

So much depended on so little.

Now is not the time to grieve for the dead, but fight for the living, Tia thought with sudden determination as she focused on the task at hand. She poured more energy through her staff into the Wind, and it obeyed her commands. The hold of the other Caster eased away, overpowered, until eventually she couldn't feel his influence on the Wind at all. The success glowed like a little fire in her chest.

There were so many bodies, and yet more and more soldiers threw themselves to their deaths. The shouts of pain and screams of bloodlust did not deter anybody from giving their all. The Gwentians fought with valour, but the Mawlinese were unyielding. It had felt like the battle had gone on forever, but both armies' numbers were still strong. She couldn't see the Gwentian king anywhere, nor could she see the Mawlinese king. Both were in battle, she knew, and she wondered if the battle would be all but over should one or both of them fall.

Tia turned to her right, seeing Enlil burst through the sandy wind. He was covered in blood from his chest down.

"What is wrong, Enlil?" she asked, alarmed. Overhead, the storm continued to rage.

"We are winning, for now..." he said grimly. He took his helmet off, his muscles rippling under his armour as he did so. His matted hair was plastered to his head with sweat. Sand stuck to his face. Tia was relieved to see the blood wasn't his. "But from the looks of it, this is not the full force of Mawlin's army. He must have had significance investment in the group that went to Elder Down."

"Then we have a chance!"

"So long as there is no reinforcement. The battlefield is even, but this is the combined force of the freed slaves and the Gwentians. The enemy is very strong."

"But even if we stop the reinforcement, what is to say they will not fight us again?" Mommu asked, fear flitting across his face.

Enlil grimaced. "This is why we must capture the king. He remains out of reach so far."

"What are we to do?"

"The quickest route for reinforcement to reach here is via the dried riverbed beside Ptarmigan Fortress. You know the route well, Tiamat?"

Tia nodded, not quite sure what her friend was suggesting. The path ran alongside the city from the east, not far from Elder Down, but nobody dared enter that area as it was impossible to stay unnoticed; this was why Ptarmigan Fortress remained impenetrable and a menacing defence for so many years. The fortress had full visibility of anyone down at the riverbed and it was prone to avalanches and slides at all times of the year. One of Tia's jobs back in the Fortress was lookout over that vulnerability. People unlucky enough to be trapped there would be dried corpses by the time help arrived, for the journey down below was long and winding.

"We need to impede the Mawlinese reinforcement. If we can delay them for long enough, our men can hold out. If we cannot before we capture Asag, then we are doomed."

"You want me to halt the second army with Wind magic." Tia finally understood what her friend was saying. She shook her head. "I cannot. Mommu is not strong enough to suppress the other Caster. The Wind will rise – it is too strong for me to dispel – and our men cannot afford to be impacted by the storm."

"I will take care of that."

Tia blinked, confused again.

"But you cannot do–"

"Sense him for me. I shall take care of him."

She gaped. Since when had Enlil's plans been so well thought through? Perhaps the past year had been life-changing for him also. She recalled the stubborn boy with his irrational anger, not too long ago. He was unrecognisable now, practically an adult in his manners and thoughts.

"Once I eradicate the Caster, Mommu, you need to help Tiamat." Enlil's tone was matter-of-fact, his pale eyes clouded with thoughts. "Whatever impediment is necessary, I dare say time will be the limiting factor. You need to see ahead for her so that she may prepare the magic."

"What of our soldiers?" Mommu asked, twisting his hands in a fashion Tia knew well.

Dear Mommu, always thinking of others, even if his fear is overwhelming him.

"We are still going strong." Enlil clapped the shoulders of his two friends. Tia felt a warming surge of motivation at his next words. "I believe in all of us. We can do it."

They nodded.

"Tiamat, please."

Taking a big breath, she steadied herself and withdrew her influence.

Immediately, the storm rose, unhindered. Mommu strengthened his cyclone around them, shielding them from the worst of the Wind.

Tia took a firm stance and spread her senses. She was at once overwhelmed by the terror and animalistic fury of battle. It was a wholly terrifying sensation to feel so intimately the emotions of men killing each other. It was inhuman. She forced them aside, shuddering, and expanded the flow beyond, teasing out her target.

She could feel another focus of the Wind. She followed the flow with her mind, feeling the branches congregating with each other until they ended on a singular source: the other Windcaster. His energy was weaker than before and she could Sense from him a solitary figure of Wind magic. Beneath his pulsing power was fear, a sensation she shared, and also astonishingly, something else.

Whatever does the other Caster have to feel guilty for?