It took us over a month to take our forces from Hadriana to the lands of the Uchanti. Marshaling one’s forces —once sufficiently large enough— took time and effort. Many of the more dangerous beasts left us alone due to our numbers. The full might of the legion had come to the Uchanti lands. More than four thousand warriors including myself and my command. Both human and ophidian marched shoulder to shoulder to defeat a common enemy. I wanted to make sure that the Bull’s forces were overwhelmed. They took down large caravans and small tribes, but against the full force of my legion? Even the bull had to be sweating at the idea of thousands of men all united against him. If not the bull, then someone in his ranks would have surely felt that tug of doubt in their heart.

  Sweetroll, my trusted companion, loyal as always, followed me as I rode my mount at the head of the legion. I familiarized myself with the sounds of a legion marching. Our footsteps were not unlike the rolling of thunder and the quaking of the earth. Appropriate, would you not say? For my revenge on the Bull was like an approaching storm that no shelter could protect against.

  My heart weighed heavily on what I would find in the Uchanti dwellings. They had saved me and in return they felt the bull gore them. An oath was an oath. I would do what I could to save them, but how many of the Uchanti people were left to save between the survivors coming to inform me and my return to the canyons. The thought of being too late dawned on my mind. My fears were all but confirmed when I saw smoke rising from the distance.

  We made our way further towards the canyon where the Uchanti lived. I could see the ramps leading down into the canyon floor. Immediately I knew that if I had my entire legion down there then the Bull —or rather, any would-be predator— would take advantage of the situation. I raised my hand in the air to stop the march. I summoned Mil’Tuk and Straden to my side. When they approached, I gave them their orders.

  “Straden. Take your forces to the right side of the canyon. Mil’Tuk, you take the left. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious and give us cover. I don’t want to be surprised.”

  “As you command, Kai’Sar.” Mil’Tuk said as he bowed his head and saluted me. Both men pulled their weapons out to get the attention of their respective units and split from the main army. They marched and went their separate ways, leaving us to travel through the lowest points of the canyon. We marched onward, traveling cautiously through the ravine. Much of the ancient river that carved through rock and stone was gone, having been dried up for Gods know how long. The Uchanti must have gotten their water elsewhere from some hidden place. How else could they have survived?

  We continued to move our patrol deeper into the canyon pass. As we drew closer to where the Uchanti lived, an all too familiar sound echoed through the land. Silence. Not even the sound of wind disturbed the harsh stillness of what remained. With a heavy heart I understood what had happened. If there were any other survivors they weren’t here. Soon we found the bodies that were thrown down from the bridges the Uchanti made. Their limbs were twisted and mangled from the fall, and their bodies painted a large red stain on the ground as if someone had mercilessly stamped their thumb on an ant.

  I prayed that there was someone out there who was still alive. I got my wish in the most horrid of ways. I saw a figure coming close to us. A lone silhouette of a woman walking towards us. One of the Uchanti, but something was wrong. As she drew nearer to us we saw that she was practically a walking corpse. She stumbled on bloody feet, almost tripping over the corpses around her. Much of her body was covered in blood; a sickening mixture of her own and that of her friends, neighbors and family. She had been stripped naked save for a loin cloth that lazily clung to her. Red stains adorned it prominently both in front of her and at her rear. The most terrible thing about her that I noticed as she moved closer was the axe embedded in her head. It was planted firmly in her skull as dried blood marked her head. Her left eye —the same side where the axe was— was blood red from a hemorrhage. As she came closer we could hear the terrible sounds she was making. A gurgled and shook, trying to formulate words.

  She babbled nonsense with no pattern in her speech, just endless dribbling, popping and other inhuman noises. She had defied death and been left in that terrible state between the grave and life. She stopped right in front of me, feeling my presence. I don’t think she could have seen me. Her eyes darted around as if they were covered by a terrible fog trying to locate me. Her appearance told a story that was all too common in that world of violence and death. Some of the Bull’s men must have defiled the poor wretch and then failed to kill her. She kept making those horrid popping noises as she struggled to breathe and speak to me. I pitied the poor creature. I reached out and touched her cheek. She was startled but calmed when she realized I wouldn’t hurt her. She looked at my direction and gurgled something. A single word. “Help.” I knew exactly what she needed me to do.

  I went behind her where the axe handle stuck out. Then with a quick motion I pulled the axe out of her head. Blood spurted out of her head like a geyser once the pressure was released and she died before she even hit the ground. I dropped the axe to the side. I turned my head back to the path ahead of us and saw that the Bull’s men were coming. However, there was no sign of the Bull himself. Not yet anyway. It seemed like the force that did this was merely a simple raiding party, not a part of the Bull’s main horde.

  For one brief moment I took a single look at the body of the woman who’s mercy I granted. I said nothing as I turned around to look at the army legion. They knew exactly what to do. I walked back in line with them and we raised our shields up. I gave a loud order that rang through the crevasse.

  “Shield wall!”

  Octavian took a whistle and blew it hard. The men went into their positions and raised their shields high, interlocking them and made a mighty wall. The horde of raiders threw themselves at our shields. I noticed that something was off. A gut instinct that told me that there was something more to this. But deep thoughts about the nature of the enemy are worth very little in an active battle, so we simply did what we came for. To kill the Bull and his men. We marched forward and cut down the enemy one by one.

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  They sought to overwhelm us with their great numbers and brutality, only to be met with our blades cutting them down effortlessly. It was no great battle, but a slaughter. One of the warriors tried to strike me with a two handed axe and missed. The axe bit down in the ground. It would take only a few seconds to wrestle it out of the ground, but I made sure that those precious moments would not come. I raised my sword high and with one quick stroke I severed both of the man’s hands by the wrist. He screamed violently before a second swing severing his neck silenced him.

  Kallista stood by my side and helped me in my defense. We made a good duo together, working off of one another like a dance in perfect synchronization. I slammed my shield into an attacker and pushed him in Kallista’s direction where she immediately thrusted her blade into the man’s chest like a serpent striking its prey in its most vital area. Another man came to Kallista with a one handed axe and tried to sever head, but she blocked the blade and then kicked his knee. It bent backwards and he fell, kneeling right in front of me where I instantly finished him off with a slash across his throat. A large warrior charged at us with a sword and shield. He appeared to be a half giant, given his size. His shield alone was larger than myself.

  Kallista and I both reacted. She slashed at his leg and I, his torso. I bashed his leg with my shield and she struck his sword arm, severing it. Left exposed, Kallista and I both plunged our swords deeply in his chest. He fell over, dying and wheezing. We shook our blades hard to remove some of the blood off before we continued. Our legion was like a well oiled machine. Meanwhile on the canyon ridge, enemy raiders were going to drop rocks on our heads, until Straden and his men found them first. Rather than stone, it was screaming men falling from great heights, only to hit the ground hard. Some landed on their heads and blood sprayed everywhere, painting the ground crimson. We within the canyon didn’t pause to look or question. We simply fought tooth and nail.

  Eventually we came across one lone raider. He had lost his courage and turned to run, yet I noticed something about him. His axe. It was the same craftsmanship as the one in the woman’s head. Without even thinking, I took a rock on the ground and threw it as hard as I could. It hit his head and the man was knocked over. I walked over to him and examined him. On his left hip was a holster for an axe that was empty. At last. Justice. I turned him over onto his back and I pressed my foot on his neck. I took his axe and threw it away before he could think to use it. His legs kicked around and he punched my leg as I pressed my foot harder on his throat. I bore the pain and put my weight on that raider’s neck. Then I heard a loud snap and felt something shift. With that, the raider was dead.

  All was quiet for a moment until I heard a voice from above.

  “Hadrian.”

  Glancing upward, it was the Bull, standing on a bridge between the canyons that the Uchanti used. Many of his men with him aimed their bows at us, ready to strike us at so much as an untrustworthy twitch.

  “You’ve crawled out of the jungles to lend aid to these wastrels. I was beginning to think that you were content ruling over your kingdom of sticks and stones.”

  “The Uchanti are under my protection.” I yelled back at him loud enough so he could hear me.

  “And what an admirable job you have done so far, wastrel king.” The Bull returned with a sarcastic remark. He leaned forward and gripped the ropes of the bridge. “Most of them lay dead now. What little treasures they had belong to me now.”

  “Your men didn’t fare any better, Bull. My legion slaughtered them as if they were nothing.”

  “Ah.” The Bull raised a finger in the air and shook his head. “You merely fought against the lowest of the low. No better than tribals with sticks. They were not real warriors. They lacked discipline. Focus. Had they obeyed my command, then this village would have survived. It was not worth my time. I had come here not just to take what little spoils the Uchanti had, but to also punish the dissidents. All you have done today is save me the trouble of finding a large enough tree and gathering enough rope to hang them all. It seems the gods have granted you to me as my aid.”

  I scowled at him, not amused in the slightest by his nonchalant pandering.

  “Are you going to talk me to death or are you going to face me with what little honor you have?”

  The Bull raised his hand in a gesture to calm me down.

  “Do not be so eager to throw your life away for the sake of revenge, ‘Kai’Sar.’ I have no further business here. You may tend to the survivors of this place if you truly think that the wastrels are worth anything. This is not where we will face each other. We will fight on equal ground. But for now, I leave the fates of these tribals in your hands.”

  I could have given the order to attack then and there. Perhaps I should, but they had an advantage being over us. Straden and Mil’Tuk might have been able to fight. They might have, but at the time I believed it was better to hold off until we were on equal footing. The last thing I needed was a fool hardy attempt for the sake of revenge. I looked down at the corpse of the raider who I had still stood on that entire time and then stepped off of his throat. I waited for the Bull and his men to leave before we continued.

  ***

  Once they were gone, My legion regrouped and we searched for survivors. The Uchanti lands were devastated. Bodies of men and women were strewn about. The renegades of the Bull had left their mark. Everything was gone; their history was defaced, their people butchered, and their homes turned to rubble. We searched high and low for survivors, and things looked rather bleak. Mil’Tuk himself was disheartened by the lack of life. I worried for him. It was a part of him that had been violently torn from him. That was until I went over to a ruined alcove. Nothing looked particularly out of the ordinary until I saw something. A small, barely visible seam on the wall behind a boulder.

  I ran my hands along the boulder and felt something. It was hollow. A fake stone to hide something. Kallista stood beside me and I moved the boulder aside. Once I did, I heard a yell and saw something approaching. I moved slightly to my left, dodging the tip of a spear just in the nick of time. It gave me a slight cut and blood poured from my wound. Kallista drew her blade and was ready to strike, but I held my free hand out to stop her. My attacker was none other than Jes’Talali herself, wounded, battered, but alive. Upon recognizing me, her hands shook and she stepped away, dropping her spear.

  She wordlessly scanned me to make sure that I was not a figment of her frightened imagination. If she had truly struck me or continued the attack, then both she and I would have been dead, as evidenced by my sword that I had drawn just as she thrusted her spear and pointed at her belly. I sheathed my blade as Jes’Talali shook. She just grabbed hold of me and cried. I sighed and closed my eyes, giving her all the comfort she required. I took my cape off and wrapped it around her and then went inside the cave. The old and the infirm laid in several beds. Children huddled up against the wall, and wounded men laid there, unable to fight. Mil’Tuk walked in from behind and saw the devastation. This was all that was left of the Uchanti. There were so few, but for now, they were safe.

  Jes told me everything. How the raiders came without warning, and though they fought valiantly, there were simply too many. They killed with reckless abandon and slaughtered innocents. The screams, —Jess told me— were the worst sounds she had ever heard. For several nights while she protected these people, those left outside suffered. It was as if Hell itself was right outside her door. She was clearly traumatized.

  The bodies of the fallen were gathered up and each was prepared in the way that the Uchanti have buried their dead for ages. They were wrapped in cloth and entombed in the burial alcoves. Most had been desecrated by the renegades. We repaired as much as we could and then sealed up what remained. Later, when the sun began to set, we set up camp in the ruins. That would be their last night in the ancestral lands. There was nothing that remained. Nothing of value that was not defiled. Home was no longer safe.