Move.

  Is everyone here?

  Of course, can’t you tell?

  Yes, unfortunately.

  Bitcher, hurry up, you’re lagging behind.

  Shut your fucking mouth.

  Silence! the command echoed through all twelve minds.

  The dragons are burning! I can see them falling…

  How is that possible?

  The warlock took care of the aerial threat for now, the Mind spoke out. Defend the Army!

  Twelve hearts beat in unison as each footfall fell in harmony, echoing across the ground. The thundering of breathing chorused through each ear individually, the group’s breathing attuned.

  I reached the ramparts, the Mind called out. Whatever he saw, he could either send the vision to all members of the squad or withhold it. He chose to show them.

  A sea of bodies. Thousands.

  The first rank of the Army has fallen. Move faster! Raven commanded. They put on a burst of speed; their space between each other stayed the same as the ground flew beneath their feet and the earth churned in their wake.

  I ate too much.

  Shut it, Two-Tons, you fat fuck.

  Up yours, Bitcher.

  Shut the fuck up, Bitcher!

  Up your ass, you red-head cunt, and a fine ass it is at that. I’d bury my face in it!

  Bitcher’s memory of Xenomene’s short-lived bare bottom flashed through the mind of all twelve; while most would be embarrassed, the image only fueled Xeno’s bloodlust, which in turn, amplified the other eleven. Even the A’uri perceived the pull of the bloodlust, but remained vigilant against the madness, unlike the Krey without a Mind to guide them.

  The second rank has fallen, weapons …

  Drawn, they mentally harmonized.

  Hands, I need you to send a—

  —wall of fire. Incoming.

  Leap! Nine Krey flew through the air, leaping into the buffer created by the wall of fire that the Hand had cast moments before.

  Wedge formation, I’ll take the lead! Raven called. They fell in step, an impenetrable wall of black dragon-plate and gleaming blades.

  Position in the gap and stand fast there. Choke them in the gap, the Mind commanded from above them. They moved collectively. Each Krey controlled their body, but they noted each footfall, breath, thought, or feeling like their own. The Mind, who controlled the hive-like state, attained the ability to block out a person or persons from the meld, as the events of death would subject the entire squad to debilitating effect, like witnessing their own death, echoing in each mind, compounding the agony.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Here come the bodies—I count fifty plus in the first wave—blood for my sword, it will be so pretty—I fucking hate these cunts already—I love blood, especially theirs—stand ready—brace—strike—step back—Xeno pivot, I’ll take the opening—done, block that incoming blade—shit that stung!—I think they cut me—you were—Hands, heal Mauler—already doing, summoning—that’s warm, that light—I feel it, too—I severed his head, did you see the blood spurting?—clamp it down Xeno—it’s still tingling, your healing—it will for a time, just block it out—side, step, wave forming up to the left, hundreds—shift in three, two, one, shifting—I have the center, to me—moving—Hands!—working on it, takes time, casting—sweet gods that’s pretty—yeah, so are the burnt crispy bodies—shut it, cunt—I hope you die, Bitcher—threat cleared, shift center in three, two, one, shift—I have the lead again—hell no, bitch, I’m going to survive just so I can fuck you up the ass—block the incoming attack—ready, step—sword down, reaching—block for him—weapon retrieved—oh sweet gods the blood…

  Xenomene struck hard with an overhand strike, her steel cleaving the goblin’s head in half. Its blood splattered her face. Another weapon whirled before her as Raven took the chin, jaw, and nose off another one with a vicious swipe. One troll swung at Raven, but Xeno’s blade was there as Raven coiled back after his strike. Her sword whistled through the troll’s mallet, shattering the wood handle and carving through the top half of his skull. As she pulled back, Tiny, on her left, reached out and struck a foe down as she just cleared the path of his blade. Raven swung low, amputating two goblins at once while Xeno went high and planted her blade in one of their skulls.

  Waves crashed upon the Black Tide, and waves were crushed, trampled, repelled, cut, and routed in place. Soon the opening was littered with bodies so high that the Krey started fighting up, the lifeless husks piling around them. A pile of corpses in a sea of enemies became a mound, then a hill. Each steel stroke added to the mass as it turned into a mountain of limbs, legs, and heads. The Krey lunged and pivoted and climbed as a cohesive unit.

  Before long, the corpses blocked the gap in the wall, and still the goblins and trolls rushed them. The wedge formed into a circle, all swords facing out. Higher and higher, they fought down the multitudes as the departed crumbled beneath their crushing blows. With each death, a body tumbled down the mountain of corpses, adding another layer to the expanding mound. For every descending body, at least two climbing creatures were knocked down, creating a domino effect. The rhythm of battle slowed as fewer managed to ascend to the top. Now, most of the casualties and injuries occurred from falling bodies, slips, and falls. One troll managed to reach the summit, sneaking beyond the sight of the Krey. He reared his ugly head, his war hammer gripped in two hands, coming down to crush Xenomene’s skull. Raven leaped forward to divert the blow, deflecting it, leaving his side wide open for the javelin that tore through his side and came out through his chest.

  Blood pooled and spurted from his mouth as each Krey lived his pain, though faintly, through the meld. The Mind promptly cut Raven out from the meld, segregating him so the Krey could continue to move as a unit. Seven blades reached out after Raven deflected the troll’s war hammer, and the troll fell down the mountain in just as many pieces. Since the Mind cut Raven from the meld, Xenomene, the second in command took over, all orders flowing from her.

  A shout caught their collective as the Mind diverted their attention for a brief moment. Warlock Lakayre shouted at them. The meaning of the words, though distorted, was clear: jump to the rampart. Collectively they gathered to leap. An unlucky arrow caught Two-Tons through his eye, killing him instantly, his body falling, adding to the blood and guts littering the ground below. The rest made the leap without incident, landing in front of the warlock, his eyes widening, noticing their blood red iris and pink-hued sclera.

  Yellow-white light radiated from the Heart in a circular pattern, cascaded over the Krey, healing their wounds before the bloodlust vanished. The energy pulsed like blood squirting from a vein. The Krey’s eyes changed, the bloodlust cooling, fading, but the whites of their eyes remained pink until they slept the effects away.

  “Where is Raven?” the warlock asked.

  “He fell. I am the Do-don; I am in command now,” Xenomene stepped forward.

  “I am sorry,” he consoled.

  “He died as a warrior, with a sword in hand, next to his brothers and sisters of House Eti. As he would have wanted, as it should be. As it was.”

  “Right,” the warlock said after a brief pause, as if searching for words. “You all fought magnificently. I have no doubt that the Grand Royal Army couldn’t repel the forces. Rest; you’ve earned it. You saved the Army from death; without your timely intervention, we would have been routed this day. I thank you for your service.”

  Xenomene glared at him, and a haunted, anger filled her eyes. “You don’t need to thank slaves. We are fodder, what we are born to be.” She turned and strolled away from the elderly man, and the Krey followed in her wake, silent harbingers of death.

  Lightning flashed, and the sky rumbled, the heavens opened up and began to pour.