Despite its wounded foreleg, the horned creature sprang from beside the broken ridge. It crossed the ground in a low bound and struck Draevorn's side with its shoulder, trying to drive him away from the tamer.
Draevorn swung his weapon around. The creature twisted aside, but the flat of the blade caught its armored flank and knocked it into the mud.
The beast tamer rushed after it. He slid down beside the creature and threw one arm around its neck, using his body to shield its wounded side.
The creature pushed up at once, favoring its injured foreleg. It pressed its broad head against the tamer's chest and braced its forelegs between him and Draevorn.
The tamer struggled to rise. He retrieved the short spear he had dropped near the ridge and jabbed at Draevorn's exposed flank.
The warlord twisted, caught the shaft under his arm, and wrenched it downward, tearing the spear from the tamer's grip. It skidded across the mud toward the broken ridge. The tamer lost his footing. A boot to the chest sent him sprawling beside the creature.
The samurai flicked his wrist. Wind swept across the ground, carrying the tamer and the beast behind the broken ridge. The tamer rolled around his companion, still keeping an arm over its body.
At the ridge, the tamer snatched up his fallen spear and braced it against the armored corpse's advance. Its weight drove him backward until his heel struck a fallen shield.
He twisted aside, dragging the spear across its legs, and the soldier stumbled into the wreckage. His horned companion, favoring its injured foreleg, drove a horn into the opening in its split armor. The corpse convulsed, its limbs jerking once before going still. The tamer's spear slipped from his hand and landed beside the fallen shield.
The blue-sashed soldier staggered toward the mage, sword raised. She drove a narrow surge of water into its knees, buckling them, then swept her staff across her body. A second current hurled the corpse against the broken trench bank with enough force to crumple its armor. It slid into the mud and lay motionless.
Beside the shattered pillar, the undead archer raised her bow again. Black corruption gathered along the empty string. The mage saw the shot forming and turned her staff toward her fallen companion.
Water surged from the trench, sweeping the archer's feet from beneath her and slamming her against the stone. Before she could recover, the mage twisted her staff, winding the current tightly around the archer's arms and torso.
The archer strained against the water, fingers twitching around her bow. Her empty eyes remained fixed on the living. The mage's staff trembled as she held the spell in place.
For an instant, her gaze lingered on the face she remembered beneath those darkened veins. Then she set her jaw and tightened the current. The archer was trapped, but she had not stopped struggling.
Across the battlefield, Draevorn's greatsword rang against the samurai's blade. The mage glanced toward the sound, but the water binding the archer tugged hard against her staff. She could not spare a hand to help him.
Still gripping his greatsword in one hand, Draevorn raised his free gauntlet toward the clouds. Lightning struck his open palm and raced down his arm. He brought the charged hand to the hilt, sending a fierce white coil of lightning along the blade.
For a heartbeat he stood exposed beneath the charge, his attention fixed on controlling it. The samurai seized that opening.
He drove his heel into the ground, and a pillar of earth punched up beneath Draevorn's feet.
The warlord lost his balance, and the point of his greatsword plunged into the mud. The samurai rushed in and brought his sword down toward Draevorn's shoulder.
Draevorn pulled his greatsword free and caught the strike on his guard. The impact rattled both fighters. He shoved the samurai away and tore his weapon from the ground.
A bolt exploded from its edge.
The samurai thrust his free hand upward. Earth surged into a second pillar, taking the lightning full-on. Stone split apart, and the blast flung chunks across the battlefield.
The mage kept one hand locked around her staff, holding the undead archer against the shattered pillar as she reached for more water from the trench. Draevorn had already turned toward her. He launched a bolt across the open ground.
The samurai stamped hard. A ridge of earth rose in front of the mage, slanting like the first wall. The bolt struck it and scattered upward. The force cracked the ridge and threw the mage to one knee.
She stayed conscious, gripping her staff. Across the battlefield, the bands of water around the undead archer shuddered and thinned, but the mage fought to hold them in place.
The beast tamer had managed to sit up. His companion stood over him, its mane bristling, golden eyes locked on Draevorn. When the tamer reached for his spear, the creature nudged it toward his hand.
The samurai shifted his grip. His forearm trembled, and his breath scraped in his chest.
Draevorn advanced at a measured pace. Lightning pulsed along his greatsword's edge, bright enough to cast sharp shadows beneath his eyes.
Watching Draevorn's shoulders and hips, the samurai readied himself. A high strike came with a turn of the right shoulder; a low sweep began with a shift of weight. He could read the movements—if his body could keep up.
Draevorn lifted his weapon. His opponent shifted his weight toward his back foot.
The strike came low.
He dropped his blade just in time. Steel crashed against steel and drove his sword toward his thigh. He twisted his wrists, sending the attack sliding past; the long blade tore a groove through the mud.
The samurai answered with a cut toward Draevorn's wrist. The warlord withdrew his hand and struck with the side of his weapon, smashing against the samurai's forearm.
His fingers went numb. His sword dipped, and Draevorn seized the opening with a thrust aimed at his chest.
Twisting sideways, the samurai barely avoided the thrust. The point scraped across his chest plate, catching its edge and tearing away a strip of lacquer.
He slammed his palm upward. The earth beneath Draevorn's front foot tilted, throwing him off balance.
Seizing the opening, he slashed at Draevorn's weapon arm. But the warlord recovered, caught the attack, and drove his blade down with both hands.
The samurai caught the blow overhead, but its force drove him to one knee. His arms shook as Draevorn leaned in, pale eyes fixed on him above the torn face covering.
The katana began to bend beneath the weight of the greatsword.
Planting his free hand in the mud, the samurai called up a low ridge beneath Draevorn's heel, breaking the warlord's balance for half a second.
He shoved upward and escaped the bind, rolling aside as the greatsword smashed into the ground. Back on his feet, he slashed at Draevorn's exposed shoulder.
The cut split Draevorn's armor. A snarl escaped the warlord. He ripped his weapon free and swung with such force that the samurai's desperate block sent him sliding several paces backward.
The impact tore the katana from his numbed fingers. It spun across the mud and came to rest beneath a brief break in the storm clouds, where the red moon showed through.
He could see the mage trying to stand. The beast tamer had one arm around his companion's neck. Neither had run. Neither had abandoned the other.
The samurai raised his empty hand. A thin line of light gleamed along his palm.
Draevorn closed in. "You keep reaching for powers you don't understand."
His fingers curled. The glow brightened, trembling with the pulse in his wrist.
"I understand enough."
He swept his hand across his body. Light flashed between them, sharp as a blade. Draevorn flinched and turned his face away.
He lunged sideways into the opening, dropped low, and caught the hilt of his fallen sword. Pulling it free of the rut, he rose in a turn.
His blade cut a clean arc toward Draevorn's ribs. The warlord twisted, but the sword scored his armor.
Pressing forward, the samurai turned a block into a shove and drove Draevorn back toward the broken ridge. For one heartbeat, the warlord gave ground.
Then he stamped.
Lightning burst from him in every direction. The samurai shoved his sword down and thrust his other hand toward the earth. Stone rose around him—but too late to make a full wall.
The current struck and tore through the half-formed barrier. He was hurled backward, and his sword slipped from his grasp, landing beyond his reach.
Rain hissed against the scorched ground. He tried to stand, but his legs did not answer.
Draevorn walked toward him, the greatsword dragging a line through the mud. Lightning crawled along its edge.
The samurai turned his head. The priest lay still beside the shrine. The mage struggled to rise beside the trench, her staff still angled toward the shattered pillar. He could not tell whether the water still held the archer. The beast tamer crouched over his companion, alive and watching.
Draevorn stopped above him.
"Remember this," he said. "When the moon turns red again, decide what you're willing to become."
The samurai wanted to answer. Blood filled his mouth. His breath came shallow and ragged.
Draevorn raised his weapon. The samurai lifted one hand. Light gathered between his fingers, faint but steady.
The blade began to fall. The glow trembled. Then the sword struck, and the battlefield went dark.