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    With ears ringing and his vision spinning, Goslin pushed to his feet. He''d landed on the opposite side of the battlefield, which meant a whole horde of monsters stood between himself and his friends. He knew Emeryn would be fine without him. After all, if anything happened, she could burrow underground and away from imminent danger. Goslin couldn’t help but chuckle at an image of his wife popping out of the ground like a gopher.


    He shook off the pain from the fall. The Loftians and Vatners were fighting on this part of the battlefield, along with some of the rhinn.


    Goslin''s legs trembled as he began making his way to his allies. At first, all he could manage was a shuffling gait, but once he got moving, his limbs loosened. By the time he returned to the field of battle, he was running, a miracle considering his crash.


    The soldiers from Vatnbloet wore heavy metal armor and fought with a shield in one hand and a mace in the other. They advanced in tight clusters of twelve men, breaking faces and crushing bones. From behind them, arrows flew from Eldian bows. Powerful gusts of wind toppled their enemies while blinding them with sand and dirt. Goslin saw a mage in a light blue tunic somehow hurl a monster away without touching it.


    "How did that woman do that?" he asked one of the armored Vatners while trying to catch his breath.


    The slit in the man’s helm turned to face him. The soldier shrugged, pieces of armor grinding against each other. "She’s a hydromancer."


    "I don’t understand," Goslin said. He hadn’t met many hydromancers. Those who came to Eldsprak worked to find water underground to aid in the construction of wells. Few made it to Fyrie, where water was already plentiful, and his father had never taken him anywhere near Havet. The man hadn’t liked Vatners.


    "Hydromancers control water," the man said, anxiously waiting his turn to enter the fray. The soldiers rotated in and out of combat to preserve their strength, a clever tactic Goslin hadn’t seen before.


    "And?"


    "There is water in your body, numbnuts," another soldier answered. Goslin didn’t catch who.


    "Suppose most of us do drink it regularly," Goslin said. He guessed that made sense.


    A man behind them shouted, and the Vatners rushed to the front with Goslin following to join the fray.


    The undulating mass of creatures was thinning, and most of the hulking colossus were dead, but the rest showed no sign of fear or inclination to retreat. They fought to the bitter end, ravaging every man and woman until they were put to death by sword, spear, mace, or magic.


    Goslin lost sight of the creature able to control the minds of the soldiers. It had shown an intelligence that made Goslin uncomfortable. Recalling their encounter, the creature was obviously more powerful than the other monsters surrounding it. It attacked with its mind rather than by brute strength and ferocity. The monster knights that took Asken’s life had been different as well. Goslin didn’t like what their appearance said about what the future would hold, didn’t like it one bit.


    When the battle finally died down, the combined forces of humans and rhinn stood victorious. Thousands of monsters lay dead at their feet, but an almost equal number of humans and rhinn paid with their blood splattered across the muddy field.


    An uncomfortable silence grew between the rhinn and the humans, and Goslin saw many of their allies of necessity clutching their weapons, scrutinizing the humans with narrowed eyes. The humans weren’t much better, and Goslin heard mutterings about big-eyes, and one voice even rose up to call the rhinn monsters themselves.


    He needed to do something before things turned ugly. "Friends!" he began, raising his arms above his head after putting both his sword and shield away. "This is a chance for us to come together!"


    Mica rushed up to stand beside Goslin, his arm in a sling and blood trickling down the side of his face.


    "Rhinn!" Mica bellowed. "Do not believe the priesthood’s lies! Stand with us and liberate yourselves so that we may prosper in peace!"


    He leaned over to Goslin and muttered, "We can live here in peace, right?"


    Goslin hadn’t really thought about what would come after the fighting. "It’s not really my place to decide, but I don''t see why not. Unless you want to return home once all this is over."


    "We’ll figure it out," Mica whispered back.


    "So, what do you say?" he shouted, his words repeated back into the rhinn lines.


    A bunch of men bustled through the lines of uneasy soldiers. The first heavy-set rhinn man Goslin had ever seen took the front, speaking with authority. His uniform differed from that of those behind him, and his words dripped with suspicion. Goslin was not surprised, as one of the priests of Wyndemir stood at his side, a sheen of purple across his eyes.


    "We will not bend our knees to humans," the rhinn commander said.


    Landé was hurrying down from one of the hills overlooking the battlefield, and others joined in as well. Emeryn and Tomford stood nearby, keeping an eye on the conversation, and Goslin thought he spotted Tvalfager somewhere in the crowd. The boy Sarien and Lana knew right beside him.


    "We do not mean to subjugate you," Goslin promised. "We wish only to join forces against these monstrous creatures,” he drew his sword and pointed at the massive heaps of corpses surrounding them, "brought into our world by the god you call Wyndemir."


    Shock ran through the rhinn army, and the commander glanced at the priest, who gave a quick, barely perceptible shake of his head.


    "You speak words of discord. Myself, I am not a believer, but many rhinn are,” the commander said.


    The priest stepped out in front of the commander, speaking with a clear and dry voice. "Wyndemir is the bringer of life and order. You shall not slander him in such a malicious way. Soon, he will arrive, and we will all reap what we sow."


    "The human speaks the truth," Mica protested. "They have proven themselves not the bloodthirsty oppressors of the pyromancers, nor the murderers of children. Bring forth one of the fireslingers from your ranks, and he shall speak the truth."


    "So formal," Goslin muttered, covering his mouth with his hand.


    Mica shrugged and whispered back, "Just taking a page out of the priesthood’s book."


    "Do not fool yourself into thinking you can give orders to a priest of Wyndemir," the priest spat.


    The rhinn commander put a hand on the priest’s shoulder. "Let’s just get one of those fire mages out here so we can proceed. They did save our hides, after all."


    He looked to Goslin. "Thank you for that."


    "My pleasure," Goslin said, beaming.


    The priest’s face turned red and his eye twitched uncontrollably, but he didn’t openly refuse the commander. Goslin realized that this meant that the priest wasn''t the one formally in charge of the battle.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    A few minutes later, an older woman in the signature red robes of a pyromancer stepped out of the crowd. A young boy, perhaps a few years older than Tre, at her side. The pyromancer’s gaze was locked on the priest, as if deferring to him, rather than the commander.


    The priest waved a hand, as if to encompass the entirety of the human forces. "Tell us of how the humans oppressed you and of their vile ways."


    Glancing around nervously, the woman cleared her throat. "Sacrifice children. Torture and imprisonment after murdering our god. They will do the same to Wyndemir, if you let them."


    "Tor?" a clear voice asked. Goslin turned to see Tre moving closer.


    The boy next to the pyromancer looked shocked. "Tre? You’re alive?"


    Tre laughed, genuine joy in his face. "No one can kill me!"


    "What are these children doing here?" the priest asked, an edge to his voice.


    "What are you doing with these bastards?" Tre asked, the question obviously for both Tor and the older woman. "Don’t you know what they’re doing?"


    He pointed to the priest, who looked like he’d been slapped in the face.


    "Remove this child!" the priest snapped, and a few soldiers stepped forward, clutching their spears.


    A pillar of fire taller than the priest bloomed from the palm of Tre’s palm. “Don''t test me, priest.”


    Tor shied back from the heat. "We have to do what the elders and directors say. We’re embers."


    "Not anymore," Tre said, looking back and forth between the priest and the older woman.


    Goslin stepped in closer and saw Tomford and Emeryn inching forward as well. This wasn''t going as he intended, and Tre’s temper could become the spark to set it all aflame.


    "Tor," Tre said. "You know what they are. Tell everyone! End this now!"


    The older woman pyromancer had gathered herself enough to step in, grabbing Tor’s wrist. "You go back to the others right now!"


    "Don’t. You. Touch. Him," Tre said, his still burning pillar of fire growing taller and wider with each word.


    "Enough of this farce," the priest of Wyndemir said, disgusted. "Your orders stand firm. The Emperor has tasked you with destroying these misguided creatures’ forces. Carry them out, soldier!"


    "The Emperor is dead, killed by the priests of Wyndemir!" Goslin shouted.


    The commander’s eyes widened, and he looked to the priest for a denial. None came. Instead, the priest screamed in anger. "Enough!"


    The tattoo on his forehead glowed a dull purple, and his eyes shone with the same shade, but with more intensity. He reached out and grabbed the woman pyromancer’s arm, and she shrieked.


    Tor tried desperately to pull free of the woman’s grip, but she latched on tightly. He screamed as something moved beneath his skin. Tre howled, a sound easily identifiable as anger. Flames billowed from his palm, hurtling to the nearby priest. Fire billowed from the older woman to meet Tre’s, and the two roared against each other.


    The priest turned and ran into the rhinn army, disappearing behind row after row of soldiers.


    "Get him!" the rhinn commander yelled, his voice shrill. He jumped back with a yelp, shielding himself from the older pyromancer whose hair went from the color of iron with pale streaks to igniting into flames between breaths. She screamed, burning up from the inside, her hollowed eye sockets filled with flames. Still, she would not let Tor go.


    Tre pulled on the boy and Goslin ran up to help, separating the two from the burning pyromancer.


    Even with Tor free, he continued his screaming.


    "Tom!" Goslin cried out, but the healer was already by his side.


    Tre winced, clutching at his own chest. Tears streaked down his face. "I think it’s in me, too. It hurts!"


    Two hydromancers appeared up from the Vatner lines and doused the female pyromancer with water that streamed from their hands. The water hissed and turned into steam as it struck the pyromancer, but it was not enough to put the woman out of her misery.


    The ground opened beneath her feet and she fell. Goslin knew that in a few moments she would turn into the same thing as Elden, a fire elemental. Emeryn created earthen walls that tightened around the pyromancer, smothering her completely. A whiff of smoke rose from the dirt.


    Tomford ignored Tre, focusing on the boy. "It’s bad."


    "What do you mean?" Goslin asked.


    "It’s like a disease spreading inside him, faster than I can catch it."


    Tre was down on his knees, groaning from the pain. "You have to help him."


    The sound of shouts and fighting rose above the rhinn army, and Goslin realized the priest hadn’t stopped. Fire flared from deep behind rhinn lines, and soldiers corrupted by the man’s touch leapt to attack those who’d been their brothers only moments before.


    "What is happening?" the rhinn commander barked.


    Landé stepped up. "It’s the priest. His touch corrupts. We’ve heard of this. You must act now before it’s too late."


    "What do we do?"


    Goslin rose and prepared to run into the fray, but Landé held up a hand. "You’ve done enough. Not every problem is yours to solve."


    "You’ll need the geomancers," Emeryn said. She turned as if to call out for the guild leader, but Yena was already there, drawn toward the commotion.


    "I can’t counteract this myself," Tomford muttered. "Need to get it all at the same time."


    "What are you saying?" Goslin asked.


    Tomford closed his eyes and put his hands on the boy’s chest, his jaw tightening. "Go get more healers. Get all of them. Now!"


    Landé sent messengers running at full tilt back up the hill, to where the injured were being tended.


    "Tom, what about Tre?" Goslin asked, anxiously eyeing the young lad.


    Fighting was breaking out among the rhinn lines. Too far in for him to see what was going on, but he didn’t need to see it with his eyes to know what was happening. The grunts and squeals of beasts mingled with the screams of men. In the distance, fire erupted in hot jets again and again.


    Geomancers walked up to the rhinn commander and then past him, slipping through the front lines with rhinn men nervously glancing to each other and their leader. No one stopped them.


    Goslin later learned that the geomancers fought valiantly, using Emeryn’s trick to bury the corrupted pyromancers alive, while the rhinn dealt with their own friends, who were turning into hideous beasts.


    When it ended, the priest of Wyndemir had caused the death of hundreds. Worse, he had disappeared.


    Tomford reached out with one hand to the prone, whimpering Tre, and Goslin could see the healing rushing through the boy like a wave of shivering cold. Tre gasped and his whole body went rigid, his eyes snapping wide open before he relaxed back onto the ground.


    "He’ll be fine," Tomford said. "The corruption of his spark didn’t go so deep."


    "His spark?" Goslin asked.


    Tomford put both hands back to Tor, whose skin was turning a darker burnt shade. Goslin thought he saw a tendril of smoke exiting the lad’s nostrils. "The disease is spreading from the core of the boy’s magic. I’ve never seen anything like it. Now shut up and let me concentrate."


    Tor''s skin lightened under Tomford''s touch.


    After what felt like an eternity later, and probably even longer to Tomford, a team of healers arrived, running as fast as they could through the gauntlet of monster carcasses and fallen men. They skidded to a stop and got down on their knees around Tomford. Without exchanging a single word, they all touched Tor. By then, Tre had recovered enough to come sit next to Goslin. He wouldn’t go rest anywhere else or take his eyes off his friend.


    "He’ll be fine," Goslin soothed, keeping his voice low as to not disturb the healers.


    Tomford muttered something to his companions, and they nodded. Goslin saw how their shoulders were set in determination. One of them slumped forward but was caught by a woman healer easily twice the age of Tomford, with hair so white she could blend into a field of snow.


    Tor let out a loud gasp, like a child waking from a nightmare.


    Tomford stood and swayed. A young woman garbed in a healer’s robe, her hair fiery red and almost glowing in the direct sunlight, gave him a shoulder to lean on as he approached Goslin.


    "How is the boy?" Goslin asked.


    "The worst of it has passed," Tomford said.


    The young woman looked at Tomford, then to Goslin. "It was almost too late, and we’re all spent. I hope you realize saving this boy meant hundreds will go without healing tonight."


    She didn’t wait for a reply before turning around and leaving the way she’d come. The other five followed, and Tor was carried away on a stretcher behind them, still unconscious. Tre glanced at Goslin, then hurried after them.


    "Good thing you brought so many healers," Goslin said.


    "This was half of them," Tomford said, swaying a little.


    "Half of those you brought?"


    The tall Vatner nodded. "Brought them all, except for one. The church’s leader, our bishop, would not leave Havet.”


    "Wait. There are only twelve healers in all of Maydian?"


    "Thirteen with me included." He shook his head. "We’re a dying breed."


    “That’s why you heal, rather than fight?”


    Tomford sat with a loud groan, sounding far older than his years. "Each life saved in battle is worth more than my pride. If I fight, I can’t heal."


    "Noticed your techniques have changed. Didn''t know you could heal without touch."


    A weak smile played across Tomford’s lips. "Neither did I, not until recently."


    They sat in silence, enjoying a moment’s rest and trying to ignore the incessant buzzing of flies as they descended on the heaps of dead.


    There would be many more in the days to come.