Excerpt from "Consumation"

Ryme wiped her cheek, turning from the tomb, toward Rahan. Her eyes were red and her hair blew erratically in the wind, but her irises gleamed vibrant red and a triumphant smile rose to her lips.

"Let's finish this," she said, bowing her head. Rahan nodded back, walking up to her and embracing her with his single arm, like a father. Wind rose around them, and they were away.

In a moment, the mountains that sheltered the tomb fell away from them and the battle grew like a writhing, black carpet of bodies. The chaos raged everywhere but for the pockets of calm that surrounded those orators whose voices stayed blades and flushed rage from combatants.

"The Masters," Rahan explained, nodding toward the orators far below. "And our allies. We are trying to control the biggest groups, but some are resisting even Parzaius. That is why we need you."

Ryme felt the thrill of excitement and fear flutter through her stomach. "Non-lethal," she said.

Rahan looked into her eyes, and saw the smoldering focus of a driven woman within them. He smiled with quiet pride. "Of course," he responded. "Of course."

The winds set them down on a cliff overlooking the northern boundries of the battlefield and Ryme disengaged from the embrace, feeling truely alive again for the first time in months. Her hair billowed in red-orange waves like a fire, and her white robes gleamed through the dust and smoke of the war-stained air. She looks like a child, Nether thought, and also a goddess, he added silent respect. "I will help subdue the aggressors," he shouted to her through the din of battle. And, with a hop, Rahan leapt off the cliff, falling toward the sea of bodies and vanishing with a final flutter of his well-worn coat.

Ryme's eyes glanced across the battle once more. "Be safe, Nether," she whispered. "Just for a while longer." Then, with a deep breath to steady herself, Ryme called down the elements to wash across the battlefield, throwing men, minotaurs, and dragons about as if they were rag dolls.