The Necromancer finally gained the ridge.  His dark, tattered robes billowed in the foul warm wind snapping against his skinny legs.  Below him in the valley, two armies clashed in a thunderous cacophony.  As if in time with the chaos, drums boomed across the valley like thunder keeping rhythm. 

            The Necromancer breathed it all in: the metallic clashes of sword on sword, mace on shield, the cries of victory and the screams of the dying.  Even though his tools were born from such chaos, his kind generally didn’t take sides in the petty squabbles of kingdoms and empires.  They were content to scheme in solitude.  But this wasn’t a general occurrence.  This was something altogether different and serious.  Serious enough to move not just him, but most of his kind, to join the banner of the Gifted King.  And his allies below were in need of his help.  His help only consisted of one thing.  He bent low, placing his palm on the dirt of the ridge.  He let his gift ooze from his palm into the soil, searching, searching for the needed materials.  Unsurprisingly, this valley had been a battlefield once before.  It was a perfect spot really; to his mind anyway. 

            The mancer stood upright and with a giant exhalation, slammed his palms together.  His gift extended into his fingers and he forced his hands apart, pulling his necrotic energy out of the ether and into the real world.  It formed a swirling green ball that floated before him.  He reached out and with all his might slammed the ball into the ground.  Then, as if pulling roots, he pulled upwards, uplifting his fingers to the heavens.  Instead of roots, came the rotting bodies of soldiers long dead reanimated and compelled to his will.  Many had died in battles ages past, and many heeded his call.  With a smirk, he pointed towards the enemy battle lines.  His undead army began to shamble down the rim of the valley. 

            The necromancer began to walk with his undead minions down the valley rim and then stopped as his head exploded in a shower of bone and gore.  His headless body crumpled to the ground and his recently reanimated cadavers faded to dust.

            “Excellent shot, Sniper!” called the Colonel from his camouflaged command tent below the tree.  The young sniper smiled at his work.  A battalion of undead could possibly have upset the delicate balance of the battle.  He, along with his other snipers, was posted strategically around the edges of the battlefield to take out mancers and other gifted individuals.  Like most mancers, once the caster died, so did his spell.  Therefore, his orders had been simple: Kill the mancers.  The sniper put the scope back to his eye to resume his bloody search. 

            “Sergeant, where are my tank columns?” the Colonel turned back to his map tables and his officers gathered around it.

            “Coming from the south as we speak, sir.  They had some problems with an aquamancer turning the road to mud, but they overcame the obstacle and are nearing their positions.”

            “I take it the aquamancer was the true obstacle rather than the mud?”

            “Yes, sir.  From what I was told, they ran over her,” the sergeant grinned.

            “Excellent!  How ‘bout the walkers?”

            “On time, sir, moving up from the east.  They’ll be ready to flank the enemy on cue with the tanks.”  The sniper rifle coughed from the tree. 

            “That was mine!” came the call from the sniper.

            “What did you bag, son?” the Colonel called up.

            “An aeromancer, sir!  First I’ve seen all month!”

            “Excellent!  One less to worry about.  Now, how are my boys holding out in the valley?”

            “The battle is brutal on the front lines, sir.  Rifle squads from the third and fifth have taken up suppressive fire positions in the trenches behind our infantry, but they’ve been preoccupied with mages mixed in with the enemy foot.  Our infantry can handle the enemy foot soldiers any day, but with enemy mages leading their platoons, we’ve taken more casualties than we expected.  The rifle squads have been busy picking them off, rather than directly supporting our infantry, but it’s been slow going and quickly turning into a battle of attrition.  As long as our ammo supplies hold out, and God willing, no greater Gifted show up, we should be good.” 

            “Well, our armor should clear that up I think,” the Colonel nodded. 

            “Yes, sir,” the Sergeant nodded.  “In fact, I think I hear them now.”

            From the south, quietly at first, but quickly building, was a low rumbling that seemed to mock the din of battle and usurp the ears.  After a few moments, it was the only thing that could be heard.  The Colonel tilted his head south to watch a great cloud of dust rise from behind the ridge.  The dust came closer and closer, and as it did, the Colonel began to feel a rumbling in the earth matching the rumbling in his ears.  Finally, the first row in the column of tanks gained the ridgeline and sped down the valley wall.  Behind them seemed an endless cascade of the squat, vicious looking vehicles.  Their main cannons coughed and the enemy lines exploded. 

            “Radio, tell our boys to get in their holes, I’m sure they know already, but their bigger brothers have finally arrived on scene.”

            “Yessir.”

            The tanks rolled right down to the battlefield and right over the allied trenches.  As had been planned, the trenches were thin enough to allow the tanks to safely roll over.  The infantry just had to get down into the trenches.  Of course, in the chaos of fighting, not everyone was able to make it to safety in time.  The tanks came onward.  Without slowing, they plowed into the enemy lines and turned to follow the line.  The tanks following in the column spread out to crush more enemy beneath their treads.  The enemy lines broke and it seemed a complete route. 

            Then the valley shifted.

            “Oh bloody hell…” was all the Colonel could say before the earthquake knocked him on his backside.  The tent came down, and pieces of equipment began to shutter away.

            On the enemy ridge, a pair of mancers had taken the field.  A geomancer, and a pyromancer.  They had been held in reserve just for this moment.  Their job had been to simply nullify the Aided Emperor’s heavy armor.  The geomancer started the show with a giant rock fountain.  It spewed earth fifty feet into the air and then came down into a roaring torrent of near-liquid earth.  She molded and morphed the land beneath the tanks into a trough.  The tanks were much less maneuverable in the soft soil and were trying desperately to escape the trap, but were caught tight.

            The pyromancer, flawlessly picking up his cue, sent his flame into the liquid-earth turning it instantly molten.  The tanks at the head of the column couldn’t move, and the ones behind had yet to realize anything was wrong and were still moving forward.  The river of lava slammed into the tank column and several tanks instantly disappeared beneath the waves.  The ones further back, after the wave crested were submerged to the turrets in molten lava.  The tanks began melting.  The Colonel could hear the tinny, muted screams from the tank crews as they were cooked alive.  With a graceful coordination that could only come from lovers, the two mancers had just completed their mandate and nullified the Aided Emperor’s heavy armor. 

            The Colonel was back on his feet and screaming orders into the radio, commanding the tank column to fall back.  The tanks at the rear of the column had yet to be mired in the trap, but for the most part, the tank column had been annihilated.  With agonizing slowness, the rear tanks shifted into reverse and crawled back over the trenches and up the wall.  In the wake, the infantry battle heated back up as the Gifted King’s foot soldiers once again roared down their side of the valley bolstered by the mancer’s victory.  The Aided Emperor’s rifle infantry came out from their trenches and met the Gifted King’s men head-on. 

            The Colonel looked up to the tree.  The boy had been sent reeling and had almost plummeted from his perch, but had just regained his position.  The Sniper made eye-contact with his Colonel.  No words were said, but the Sniper knew what the Colonel wanted him to do.  He raised the scope to his eye…

            On the other ridge, the two mancers weaved their intricate dance, raining fire, earth, and death on the enemy troops.  He and his love had been called to duty from the far north.  They had lived peacefully there working with villagers to create metals needed for their farm work in the hard dry soil.  The need was dire, the call had come, and they went.  The Gifted King realized the power in the pair, and had attached them both to his 3^rd Army.

The two had met as children at the capital and received their mancer training at the same time.  Since then, everything they did had been done together.  Their teachers had taken notes of their talents, and those reports had been brought up at the Gifted King’s request when he knew the need for strong, magically gifted people was dire.  When they had reported to him, he had sent them off.  Since then, they had participated in three major battles of the invasion, each time throwing back the scourge of the Aided Emperor and his technologically assisted hordes. 

This time would surely be no different.  The pyromancer watched his love morph the stone and earth into a raging slide rivaling the power and speed of river rapids.  He loved watching her morph earth.  His fire was more capricious and less substantial, making it easier to control, but her moving rocks and earth that by its very nature, resisted such movement, filled him with wonder and awe. 

He added more heat to her earth and watched it glow.  He used convection currents to keep the brimstone from falling back towards them.  Everything was in balance that was difficult to maintain.  If he, or she, were to miss one step in their dance, they’d be annihilated by their own forces of nature.  That’s what made the pair so unique, and so devastating on the battlefield.  Their love, and intimate knowledge of each other, allowed them to be precisely coordinated.  He knew he should be concentrating, but still, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as she morphed.  Sweat glistening off of her brow and soaking through her light airy robes making them almost see-through…she caught him looking and gave a loving smile back at him.

And then she stopped.  He blinked for a moment confused by her sudden lack of movement.  Her arms dropped to her sides, and her morphing ceased.  As if the world suddenly slowed, and he had all the time in the universe, he watched as she inexorably crumpled downward.  Her body falling in slow motion like a puppet with all its strings cut.  His gaze followed her body upward and then he saw the ruin of her face.  There had once been intelligent, beautiful, indigo eyes that he had loved to stare into, but now there was only a hole and gore. 

He screamed.

And then screamed again as the torrent of fire and earth that he had forgotten to keep at bay, fell over him incinerating him and what remained of her in a heartbeat. 

“Excellent shot again, Sniper.  The bastards deserved it.”  The sniper nodded his consent and went back to his search.  It was a shame he hadn’t seen them before they had wiped out the tank column.

“Sir, communications are back up.  Dire news, sir.  The Zeppelins report a summoning circle on the far side of the valley.  It’s outside the range of our artillery, sir.”

“How many Summoners?” the mere thought of summoners made the Colonel go cold.  In small numbers, Summoners were more of an irritation than a threat, summoning elementals.  The elementals, obviously, could cause damage, but they were manageable.  If, God forbid, there were many summoners, they could summon a being immune to their weapons…

“Zepps report almost…” the officer gulped, “Thirty, sir.”

“Get HQ on the line.  Tell them to send the bombers.  Now.”

“Sir!” she replied.

“Sir, the walkers are ready.  With those mancers down, they should have a chance.”  The Sergeant was leaning behind the communications operator with a headset over one ear.

“Understood, give them the go ahead.  We’ll see how the enemy foot soldiers like our heavy infantry.”

The Sergeant gave the command (Go, go go), and the walker battalions started their quick leaping strides down the valley wall on the eastern slope, flanking the enemy line.  The walkers were, in essence, walking tanks.  They were smaller and more maneuverable in certain terrain, but they didn’t quite have the same punch unable to carry as much weaponry.  Most walker pilots added cobbled-together swords and axes for use after their ammunition ran dry.  In that capacity, the walkers were the greatest infantry on the field of battle.  The crushing was swift and brutal, and once again the enemy lines broke.  The walkers surged forward.

“Sir!  I just lost communication with the lead Zeppelin!  I think I heard ‘dragon’ before the line went dead.  I’m sure of it, sir.”  The communication officer was young, but she had good ears.  The Colonel had her put there because of that ability.

“Dragon riders?  Shit.  Get HQ to send in the flyboys.  Also, give me a status report on those bombers, we need those summoners taken care of sooner rather then later.”

“Roger,” she said as she bent over her gear.

The sniper rifle coughed again, and again.  The Colonel picked up his binoculars and looked out over the ridge in the same direction the rifle was pointed.  Three mancers had just gained the ridge and were coming down into the valley.  The sniper rifle coughed again, and the first in the group fell.  Another cough, and the last.  The kid was good.  The sniper rifle coughed again, but this time there was a flash, and then a whiz.  The Colonel ducked automatically, but the shot wasn’t anywhere close to him.  He heard a second later the thump behind him and knew that it had been too close to the kid in the tree.

“Fuck.  Damned aeromancer saw the shot, caught the bullet and threw it back,” the Colonel mumbled to himself.  “Get me another sniper over here and take that asshole out!” he roared.  Runners jumped to find a spare sniper.

“Sir, HQ wants a report,” said the comm officer.

“Let me have it,” the Colonel said as he came over.  “Yes, sir.  Everything’s under control here, although it’s getting a little sporty over here, sir.  Well, we need the bombers in ASAP, or we won’t hold long when the behemoth takes the field, and I have reports of Dragon Riders inbound.  We need those flyboys.  Yes, sir.  Wait sir, no, I hear them now, sir.  Roger that, out.”  He handed the headset back to the girl. 

“We may need to pack it up soon,” he said quietly.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered back.

Anything else she may have said or asked was drowned out as three high-performance turbo-prop aircraft (P-51s…w00t) swooped down over the battlefield.  They strafed the enemy lines and pulled back up into the sky, leaving death in their wake.  The Colonel watched them climb and then wing over as their real targets became visible on the horizon. 

From this distance, they looked like vultures winging in by the scent of the dead.  The Colonel knew better.  Dragons were large, vicious birds-of-prey they reminded him of lizards with wings.  The fire they breathed could only be described as supernatural.  Although, the breath weapon changed with the color of the beast.  Red for fire, blue with ice, black with acid and so on.  Nasty creatures.  He hated them, and the riders on their backs that directed them.  He had heard rumors that the riders communicated telepathically with their mounts.  He’d also heard the dragons themselves were highly intelligent.  Let’s see if they were smart enough to outrun bullets.

The battle roared on.  Explosions, gun retorts, fireballs, magical spells, sword on shield, shield on armor clashes wracked the ground.  In the air above, another battle wheeled through the clouds, like some aerobatic show, the planes scything behind, and around the enemy dragons as they winged over and dove, or climbed.  Their breath weapons raking the sky out in front of them as their riders flung lightning.  Sometimes the planes would be hit, exploding, or twisting down into a spiraling death dive before cratering into the ground.  Other times, a dragon would screech in pain and fall from the sky riddled with 7.5mm shells.  The battle continued on.

“Sir, reports from the walkers say the enemy infantry is on the run, again.”

“Good, let’s hope it’ll take this time.  Do we have a number on how many tanks made it out of that inferno?”

“Yes, sir,” she said as she flipped through a steno pad.  “We lost near eighty percent of our heavy armor.  The rest retreated back to the edge of the valley where they’ve been regrouping.”

“Twenty percent, eh?  Should be enough.  Tell them to fan out along the ridge.  Have them coordinate their bombardments with the artillery commanders; I want an unceasing barrage of death to rake the enemy lines, give them something to run about.  Continuous, you get me?  They stop firing when they run out of ammo, or their barrels melt.  Same for artillery.  It’s getting to the climax, and we need the final push.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sergeant, ETA on those bombers?  I’m starting to sweat.”

“Traffic Control reports they are thirty seconds from bomb run.  If the coordinates the zeps relayed were accurate.”

“Understood,” and the Colonel put his binoculars back to his eyes.  In just a few moments, a lot was going to happen.

‘A lot’, was an understatement.  The tanks had fanned out on the ridge line, and opened fire.  Their concussive shots rumbled down into the valley.  Harmonizing with the artillery, the enemy lines became hell.  Explosions rocked the enemy and thousands of men disappeared.  The Aided Emperor’s rifle squadrons, hiding in their trenches, opened merciless fire into the fleeing enemy. 

The Colonel noted a buzzing sound and glanced upwards.  The sky was dark and tinted red, reflecting the fire and death below.  He couldn’t see for the clouds, but he knew the high-altitude heavy bombers were there.  A second later, the tell-tale high-pitched whistling of heavy, gravity-propelled ordinance pierced the sky.  The Colonel knew that the summoners were done for.  They couldn’t break their summoning, for the energy backlash would do more damage then the bombs, but if the bombs killed them, and the summoning wasn’t complete, there would still be a backlash.  If they managed to get the summon off, they wouldn’t be able to get away fast enough. They were dead either way.  The Colonel only hoped that they died before they summoned it in.

The horizon beyond the ridge flared.  White light, tinted orange illuminated the battlefield creating ghostly shadows and strange images.  The tops of the fireballs could be seen from the valley floor.  And the Colonel waited.  He waited for the blinding blue flash of a summoning gone wrong.  He had taken out enough circles to know what it looked like.  It didn’t happen.

“God damnit!” he swore after another minute.

“What is it Colonel?” the Sergeant asked,

“The bombers didn’t get there in time.  The summoners are dead for sure, but their summon isn’t.  Sound the retreat.”

“Retreat?  Sir, are you joking?”  The Sergeant looked dumbstruck.  “The enemy is in full retreat.  We’ve taken the field!” 

“Sergeant, is this your first time in this war?  Or are you just demonstrating your complete lack of intelligence?  They just summoned a monster that stands almost seventy feet high.  Its hide is resistant to our weapons.  In my entire career, I’ve only seen this thing wounded once, and that was by a weapon we no longer possess.  It can wade into our lines and devastate everything.  This battle is over.  We must leave, or die.”

The Sergeant had gone white.  He had served with the Colonel for near two years.  The reproach stung.  But the Colonel was right about one thing: the man had an extensive war record, and if he hadn’t demanded full command of his troops on the field of battle countless times, he would have been a top ranking general in the War Cabinet of the Aided Emperor by now.   If the Colonel said the battle was lost, the battle was indeed lost. 

            “Stella, you heard him.  Sound the retreat,” the Sergeant said quietly.  His hands bunched into fists at his sides. 

            “All units, fall back.  I repeat, fall back to point R34,” she said into her headset.  Her voice held the doom that was surely to come for them.  The Aided Emperor’s armies had gained the headland, but were hard pressed to hold it.  If they fell back here, their landing points on the beaches would be open to attack.  If they had to fall back again, the invasion was a complete failure. 

            “Let’s pack it up,” the Colonel ordered.  “Burn what can’t be carried.”

            “Sir,” Stella said as she glanced at the boy sniper’s body.  “What about the dead?”

            “Leave them, we can’t stay—“ the Colonel was cut off by a blood-curdling shriek.  He felt every hair on the back of his head stand on end all at once.  “We’re out of time.  Get the infantry and heavy infantry off the field immediately.  Have the artillery and remaining tanks provide cover fire, and target the thing when it crests the rise.”

            Stella started quickly speaking into her headset, then paused and looked back to the Colonel.  “What thing, sir?”

            “The Behemoth,” the Colonel said in a near whisper.  And as if it had heard the Colonel’s impossibly quiet whisper, it appeared on the ridge.  It was exactly as he had described it to the Sergeant and more.  It stood on two legs almost seventy feet tall, stooped over with powerful, muscular shoulders and arms.  Its arms were long and swayed as it walked.  Its fingers and toes ended in wickedly curved claws that could slash a tank in twain with no trouble.  Its head resembled that of a wolf with a thick furry mane running down its back.  The jaws were tremendously large, with fangs impossibly long.  Drool dripped from its mouth and scorched the earth where it landed.    

Stella matched the Sergeant’s facial color.  No official army report had ever been filed about the behemoth.  It was a battlefield nightmare the army refused to admit existed.  They would not, could not, admit that anything magically summoned was impervious to technology.  But then, they weren’t looking at the massive creature of war across the valley.  Summoned from another dimension, born completely of magic and hate, it had one purpose: to crush anything before it completely.

“That’s it, we’re out of time.  Get those guns firing.  They won’t harm it, but that much force will slow it down a bit.” 

“Won’t it follow us if we run?” the Sergeant said worriedly.

“Yes.  But hopefully not long enough for us to reach safety.  With its summoners dead, the magic keeping it here will eventually ebb and he’ll be sucked back home.”

“How long will that be?”

“About a week,” the Colonel said with a lopsided grin.

“Oh shit.”

“Thankfully, it’s slow.  We can outrun it.”

The artillery barrage started back up, all shots hitting the easy mark.  The creature howled in furry.  Stella cupped her hands over her ears.  The Behemoth began to move down the valley, crushing even its own side under its feet. 

The command group finished packing up as the truck pulled up.  “Colonel, you see that sonofbitch?  What the hell is that thing?” the driver called from the cab.

“The end of the battle.  Hurry it up Mac, we need to get the hell out of here.  Stella, how’s the retreat going?” the Colonel called over to Stella who was on her portable radio.  Mac jumped down and began to grab equipment.  Sergeant Mayers lent him a hand.

“As well as can be expected, sir.  The men are using the trenches for cover and are ninety percent evacuated.  The walker platoons are ignoring orders and attacking the Behemoth with what little they have left and are making it move in circles trying to swat them buying us more time.  Combined with the constant artillery bombardment, the Behemoth hasn’t made it to our side of the lines.”

“Let me guess, Kel?  That hothead.  Never did follow orders too well.  Too bad it’s probably gonna get him a medal.  If he survives, that is.”

“Yes, sir.  He did seem to mention medals of some sort,” Stella said.

“God, he expects them now?  Tell him to get his ass out of there on the double, we’re leaving.”  The Colonel turned and helped load up the last of the crates with Mayers and Mac.  Mayers jumped into the back with Stella, who was shouting at Kel through the portable radio.  The Colonel leapt into the passenger’s seat as Mac got in and gunned the engine.  With a bang and a puff of exhaust, the truck started.  Mac wasted little time putting the petal to the floorboards.  The Colonel watched in the rear-view mirror as the burning remains of the camp disappeared from view.  Explosions, smoke, and flashes lit up the horizon.  He sighed.  Another battle lost.  There had to be some means of defeating a Behemoth on the field of battle, or they would never take Val’Edian. 

The Colonel got an idea, and a look familiar to his subordinates crossed his face.  Mac didn’t fail to notice it.  “Uh, sir?  Is this plan going to get me killed?”

“Hell no, just keep driving that way,” the Colonel waved his hand in their current general direction.

“Right,” Mac said and shifted into a higher gear as the truck picked up speed.