“Black Legion! Stop them!” he commanded.

All sorcerers turned their attention to the oncoming beasts.

A few were impaled upon spears of ice. Others engulfed in flame, but it still wasn’t enough. Vhalla watched as her comrades in black were pounced upon, shredded by the creatures. Her stomach churned as one stopped to bite off the head of a fallen Southerner.

But two riders knew their mission more clearly, and they steered their mounts toward the inner line with furious purpose. They must not let them through. Aldrik was already moving his fire as much as he could but the beasts’ fur seemed to resist flames, and he had to focus all his attention upon only one at a time for it to catch and collapse with a feline scream of agony.

Vhalla began running. Fritz and Aldrik shouted behind her, but she plunged herself into her Channel. It was already beginning to feel thin, but she had no other option. If there was ever a night she would scrape the bottom of her magical well, this would be it. The wind swept beneath her feet and nothing could catch her as she sprinted through the camp. Curving her path, dodging blades and ducking in between skirmishes, she dashed across the field. Her eyes were focused on one creature, bigger and stronger than the rest.

Curling her fingers, a gust of wind pushed a riderless horse in her direction. Vhalla curved again, running alongside the path of the mount. The painted mare came up on her, and she reached out a hand. Her fingers closed on its reins, and she did not let go. The horse, crazed, attempted to keep running, and Vhalla was pulled off her feet. Her legs pinwheeled frantically, finding her footing as the horse slowed enough from her tugs on the reins for her to make her way upright.

Somehow, she clumsily managed her way into the saddle. Vhalla turned; the two Northern riders were almost to the center line. Archers rained arrows down upon them. Pole-armed soldiers braced themselves. Vhalla kicked her heels and put the wind to the horse’s hooves.

It was not a fine beast by any stretch. The mare struggled and whinnied. It tossed its head this way and that, forcing Vhalla to crouch forward and grip the reins as tightly as possible. The horse resisted her at first, but she kicked harder, feeling a minimal amount of guilt for pushing the unsuspecting creature so.

The horse finally moved how she wanted. Vhalla had just enough time to hold out a hand to arm herself with a sword from the ground, its owner long dead, before she was up on the first Northern rider. She swung in a wide arc, and the sharp of the blade smashed against her enemy’s nose. It was like hitting the side of a mountain, and Vhalla’s bones reverberated from the impact. But it was enough to stall the rider.

A brave Imperial soldier charged, thrusting her lance through the heart of the cat-like beast. The Northern warrior glared at Vhalla only briefly, rage twisting her features as she fell from her dying mount.

“Go for the eyes!” Vhalla shouted to the Southern army within earshot. She knew they were likely more experienced than she was, but a reminder could not hurt. Vhalla pulled the reins, turning.

Off in the distance, a dark streak raced forward against the torrent of flaming arrows. She followed its path to a man in white and gold armor who was already struggling with soldiers breaching the southern side. Vhalla cursed loudly as she snapped the reins, riding in the direction of the Emperor.

The wind at her back, she closed the gap in an impossibly short amount of time. Vhalla cried as she ran the horse perpendicular to the path of the remaining cat creature. As she launched herself into the air, the mare was forced into the side of the cat-beast, knocking its talons off-target. Vhalla tackled the Northern soldier on the back of the creature, and she spared just a moment’s thought for how much she really hated the Emperor.

Vhalla rolled head over heels, entangled with the Northerner who had made a bid for the life of Emperor Solaris. The Northerner won out on top, straddling her. Vhalla struggled, her arms pinned beneath the enemy woman’s knees. The Groundbreaker pulled back her sword, her arms over her head.

“Gwaeru!” she cried.

Vhalla saw a flash of silver in the night.

A lance impaled the Northerner’s eye. Her mouth hung open and lifeless. Vhalla twisted her head to avoid the point of the blade that dropped from between the dead woman’s limp fingers. The helping weapon withdrew, and Vhalla pushed the lifeless corpse off of her, regaining her feet quickly.

Major Zerian arced his weapon through the air, sending the bloody gore flying off it. Vhalla gave quick thanks and peered around his side, seeing the beast she had run head-first into on the ground. Emperor Solaris pulled his sword from the creature’s face and found her.

Her eyes met those cold blue ones, and she paused. There was no thank you, no nod, and no recognition. He simply turned and began barking orders as the other beasts from the western side began to fall against the inner line. Vhalla heard the sound of arrows piercing the air, originating from the fortress, and instinctively raised her hand. Deflecting the attacks of archers had become all too easy.

The Emperor gazed back at her. Vhalla had a moment where she half expected some form of gratitude for her additional assistance. But he simply turned to give orders. She hardly had time to care. Major Zerian, however, gave her a nod. He had seen her save the Emperor directly. It was the first time that there was no question of it happening, and she had been Vhalla Yarl, not Serien. That was enough for her.

Her feet carried her back across the thinning battlefield. Vhalla killed three more Northerners along the way, aiding in the deaths of at least five others by disarming them or throwing them off balance. She saw the bodies that had begun to pile upon the ground and couldn’t keep a tally of who seemed to have heaped more upon the bloody earth, North or South.