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 leagues 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 Mountaintaker 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 not chances now. They were leaderless, the ranking officers were in a tent somewhere, determining their next move. Should the 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 Mountaintaker's 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.