The thunder of marching feet filled the air, as a great wave of yellow cloaked men ascended the mountain. Not one man looked back toward the ship that was anchored nearly a league below them already, unable to fly any higher. At the head of the formation was a tall and proud man, carrying a helmet under his arm that was crested with yellow dyed horse hair. At his side was a pair of swords that shared a scabbard. A famous pair of swords, whose prophecies had won him smaller victories already, and bolstered both his confidence and the trust that Emperor Caelus had in him. 

In their reflections, he had seen many things. He had seen the Rhee's camp, which lay in a drunken stupor over the loot and plunder that had been carried up the mountain from a sacked city. He saw himself, and his battalion, only the first wave of men to take to the mountain, slaying the barbarians before they could mount a defense. But he had made a mistake by telling these things to his men. For one of them was not truly his. 

The first indication that something was wrong was a stirring around them, and by then it was already too late. Men and women bearing swords, axes and spears, rose from the loose earth at either side of them, and struck. The outer side of the formation fell before the men on the inside were aware that they were under attack. Yllicus threw his helmet on, pulling his swords out to defend himself. He looked into their reflections as he fought. He saw each attack seconds before it came, and parried and dodged without fail. But he was already cut off from his men, as the ambushers surrounded him. There were piles of dead already, but the soldiers behind him had raised their shields in a much practiced phalanx to keep the attackers at bay. The attack was compromised, he knew it now. The left hand blade of Seer told him what happened. He saw which one had betrayed his trust, and he saw who to, and why. Yllicus gave an order he hadn't spoken in five years. "Retreat! Back down the mountain," he called to his men over the din, "Regroup at the ship!" 

The phalanx started moving down the mountain, harassed on all sides by the barbarians, but Yllicus couldn't move. Every inch of ground he moved back was taken instantly away from him. He was locked in combat with a vast hoard, only surviving because every move he made was guided by prophecy. Before long, he couldn't even see his men in the distance, and his limbs grew tired from the never ending melee. Countless lay dead at his feet, and he knew he would collapse soon, but was determined to kill as many as possible.

"Stop!" a voice called out from above. It was a woman's voice, strong and confident. The second she spoke, the hoard around Yllicus froze, as if they were statues. Could the gods have come to his rescue? he wondered. Was this the very voice of Lithis? No, he saw. Up the mointain, there was a woman of black hair and austere beauty. She was draped in furs to fight off the cold, and Yllicus could see a sword at her hip. He fell to the ground, looking up, wondering if this was a rescuer or another fiend. 
As she drew the wicked, curved blade, he knew which. 

~~~~

The base camp was abuzz and lively. The airshipmen of the [i]Mountaintaker[/i] were reloading ballast to account for the lighter weight that the ship would have, while the wounded soldiers were being attended to by physicians. Those who had stayed behind, and those still strong enough to fight, were forming a perimeter to keep the barbarians away. They had come in high spirits, but they were taking no chances now. They were leaderless, the ranking officers were in a tent somewhere, determining their next move. Should they press on with the campaign? A smaller ship had been dispatched to inform the Emperor, but they couldn't wait for word back to make a decision.

But then, all at once, the men at the perimeter gave cries, some of alarm, some of freight, and a few of joy. The [i]Mountaintaker's[/i] captain, Vern, rushed forward to see what the commotion was. He was met with a crowd of almost every single soldier and sailor, gathered around to see something. They parted, and let through a battered, exhausted Yllicus. His helmet was missing, his cloak was torn and his armor battered, and he had a rag tied tightly around his right thigh. But he was alive, and he still held Seer in its scabbard. 

The only words he spoke were to the Captain, "Pack up, we leave now," before he disappeared into his personal cabin. 

~~~

The Witchblade's magic interfered with his very thoughts. Every action he thought to make was instantaneously checked against the Witch's orders. Yllicus paced the room, frantic now. Every possible plan was disallowed by the Witch's cunning words. She had thought of everything... Or had she? 
He still had Seer. Not only had she allowed him to keep it, but she had given no orders regarding it whatsoever. It wasn't possible that she didn't know about it. Her spy had told her everything. Could it be a lapse in her judgment? Or perhaps she didn't care for it. Maybe she saw its weaknesses more clearly than he had. 
How could he use this to his advantage? No matter what Seer let him see, his actions were limited by the curse. 
He took the sword from its scabbard, and gazed into the future. At the current course, he saw his own success in the task that the Witch had given him. He could tell no one, to weaken the prophecy. He needed to change events, something needed to happen or all was lost. But the only avenue that was free, was his use of Seer. 

Or, the thought struck him, his disuse of Seer. He looked into the blade yet again, closer this time. Very close indeed. He saw [i]Mountaintaker[/i] soaring through the air. The airshipmen were hard at work, concentrating on their own tasks. But outside, a smaller ship flew. He saw it, and he watched a possibility unfold. It wasn't much of an option, but it was a change to the game.

Yllicus did three things, then. He sheathed Seer. Walked out onto the deck. And then dropped the sword off the edge.

~~~

The market of Lan was livelier than usual today, high off the the powerful stimulant known as gossip. A ship had come in the middle of the night, bearing news from the much anticipated campaign in the mountains. According to most of the airshipmen, who would know such things, the [i]Mountaintaker[/i] should have reached Hurmding sometime the previous morning. It may be a great distance on foot, but the ships were swift and could make the trip in short enough order. The rumor mill was working hard now, theories being bandied left and right about what the message might have entailed.
They wouldn't have to wait long for more excitement, however. A few hours after noon, someone spotted the ship coming in from the North. After much ado and excitement, it was confirmed to be the [i]Mountaintaker[/i], already on it's way back to the capitol. Business in the markets was poor after that, as everyone rushed to the shipyards to see it come in. They wanted to get glimpses of the soldiers, or else to maybe overhear some juicy news. 
The ship came in on a friendly wind, and was quickly moored. The ropes were strained immediately as the ship started unloading its human cargo, and the unencumbered hull pulled against the moorings. The airshipmen were going about chores, adjusting ballast, restocking and unloading. The soldiers, meanwhile, filed out of the ship in mass, looking unusually grim. The gathered crowds backed away to let them through, those close enough to speak to the soldiers asking questions that went unanswered. 

After the soldiers, came the officers. The rabble knew better than to try to press these men for information. Captain Vern walked with Admiral Yllicus and a few hangers on. They had business at the palace. 

~~~

The men hung around in the Atrium, Yllicus was looking more like himself, though with a pronounced limp. He had a plain short sword in place of Seer on his hip. He hadn't said much, even to Captain Vern, who looked worried as the Admiral paced back and forth, apparently quite agitated. 

“You're quite sure, Yll?”
“Yes,” he kept pacing.
“You've a feverish way about you, I don't like it. His Blessed Highness would understand if you wanted to rest and recover before briefing him.”
“But it can't wait.”
“What can't wait?” Vern was letting his own irritation show now. Yllicus had been very tight lipped. Whatever he had seen up on the mountain, he felt that he could repeat it to no one short of the Emperor himself. Likely, though, Emperor Caelus would convene a strategy meeting afterward, which Vern and his entourage would be a part of. Anything this important would find its way to the [i]Mountaintaker[/i]'s captain soon enough. 

Yllicus waved a hand for silence as the doors on the end of the hall opened. A guard in shining silver armor stepped out and beckoned, “His Blessed Highness asks for an audience with Admiral Yllicus, and no one else.” Yllicus nodded at Vern, and walked past the Imperial Guard and into yet another grand hallway. The guard took no objection to Yllicus' taciturn attitude, and the two walked in utter silence until the guard opened a door on the side. The guard was about to step in first, but Yllicus brushed past him and took hold of the door. 
“No one else,” he repeated the man's words back at him, and closed the door in his face. 

Emperor Caelus beamed at his old friend when he walked in, and jumped up from the cushions he had been lounging on. “Yll! But Lanus has guided you back to me! I heard you were injured, is it terrible?” He rushed forward to embrace Yllicus. 

“No,” Yllicus said into the silence as the Emperor's face turned blank and lost all color. He pulled the blade out of Caelus' ribcage and dropped it with a clatter to the floor. “It is the least of my griefs. I am so sorry Cae...” tears streamed down his face as his emperor and friend fell to the floor.