“Go! Move! Move!”
The other Acorilinians began pressing in on their spheres of energy. With firm pressure, each of the men and women strained to shape and compress the powerful magic until each sphere was small enough to fit in one hand. Each one shot out a pulse wave of energy, spawning hundreds of combatants. Within seconds, the open field became crowded as the number of fighters doubled. The newly-summoned Acorilinian spirits engaged the enemy immediately.
Keeping their distance, Jularra's forces rushed out into the field, skirting the battle and dodging the smoky lightning strikes from across the field.
“It looks like those rings are originating from a single point,” Jularra yelled between thunderclaps.
“Probably where these creatures are being controlled from,” Melcayro agreed.
“Agreed,” Abranni said. “Let’s get over there and see if we can stop it.”
“I’ll follow your lead,” Jularra shouted over the growing noise from the thunder and nearby battle. “I’m not at full strength.”
Melcayro gestured for Jularra to follow. Abranni ran at her side.
They weaved in and out of their foes, dodging smoking bolts of obscene energy that tore into the ground and shot plumes of dirt as they struck. Jularra, Melcayro and Abranni deflected attacks from baykoks and bears and raced on through the blasted terrain.
The frequency of energy strikes lessened. Just when Jularra dared to think they would make it to the tree line, something new was added to the mix. In stolen glimpses between running and defending, Jularra saw that the energy rings were now not only striking the ground but also springing back up into vicious squalls of mud, boulders, bushes, and leaves.
Damn it, Leona! Her mind wanted to spread her outrage. Could’ve used your help, Vylas!
Sharp screams of pain rang out across the field. Between the dark foes, bolts of energy and bits of flying debris, more and more of the combined Acorilinian and Messyleian force began to fall.
“Leona!” Jularra screamed. Her throat felt like it was tearing. “Stop! Leona! Vylas sent me!”
Another whirlwind of deadly foliage tore through the area. Many of the allied Acorilinians and Messyleians were struck again.
If this isn't Leona, we're all fucked.
Sharp rocks whipped her side, and Jularra clutched at her ribs, her leather armor no match for the tempest of lethal debris. Then again, maybe we're fucked even if it is Leona. “Vylas sent me!” she screamed again. She fell to her knees and looked up, desperate in the hope that Leona registered what she was saying. Can she even hear me?
The unnatural army came to a sudden halt. The wind died down, and any projectiles still in flight immediately dropped, returning to their previous harmless state. Wounded, exhausted, Jularra’s allies tumbled to the ground.
As Jularra registered the ending of the fight, she relaxed just enough to fall back onto an elbow. The cool breeze stung the gaping slices in her side. A hint of anger raced through her at the inconvenience. She pushed the pain of her own wound aside, scanning the battlefield for any signs that her comrades were still in danger. She ground her teeth as she sat up and prepared to shout for a status from Wona or Vischuno, but was knocked back down once again.
The field erupted in screams of fresh pain as something unseen prodded the injured Acorilinian and Messyleian soldiers. But almost as quickly, the screams stopped, as did Jularra's—and, presumably, her allies'—pain. Someone—Leona?—had forcibly removed the shrapnel of sticks, leaves, and rocks from those she had been attacking. She must have heard me, Jularra thought. She rolled and shifted on the ground, still favoring her sore—but healed—side, looking for any sign of the witch.
The field fell truly quiet for the first time since before the battle. The skeletons and bears stood frozen in place, gazing down eerily at the recovering humans. Only the occasional groans of stirring soldiers disturbed the aberrant silence.
Jularra pushed through her discomfort to clumsily gain her feet. She eyed a nearby skeleton suspiciously as she stood, still not entirely convinced that the danger had passed. Jularra craned her neck to see through the frozen army of foes to the far line of trees.
Where are you, Leona?
The ground stirred around and in front of Jularra, gently at first, and then more noticeably. Jularra's soldiers closed in on her protectively, wincing as they moved.
Jularra alternated between scanning the ground, helping the rest of her men and women to their feet, and looking for Leona. Slowly, she made her way towards the other side of the field.
As Jularra weaved her way through her frozen foes, she came across a friend that was not stirring.
Vischuno.
“Visch!” Jularra shouted. She darted over and fell to her knees at his side. No!
Whatever magic had been used to heal the wounded had been ineffective for Vischuno. He must have already been dead. She swallowed a sob, forcing down horror at the sight of his mangled body. His neck had been shredded; the material hurtling through the air had almost decapitated him, and his head was still attached to his body only by his spine.
Jularra’s shoulders slumped beneath a crushing sense of loss. Grief threatened tears, but then rage took over and put a stop to that.
“Leona!”
Jularra’s voice blasted out across the field.
“Where are you, you bitch?”
Jularra marched through the last bit of cluttered field, shoving aside rooted skeletons as she walked by. She used her magic to do the same with the heavier petrified bears, flexing her body before unleashing a pulse of energy to knock each one over. More and more skeletons and bears fell as she cleared herself a path to the other side of the field. Her comrades and allies scampered out of her way on their own.
“Leona!”
The far edge of the glade was clear of both friend and foe. Inside the trees, Jularra now saw a large, round monument, and on the steps leading up to its open floor stood a
