*Swoosh*

  *Crash*

  The mangled remains of a Malakey are thrown over the village walls and into the dark forest.

  *Swoosh* *Swoosh* *Swoosh*

  *Crash* *Crash* *Crash*

  A few more abomination corpses crashed immediately after.

  The Todtec group was confused, for they knew only that the Omoshiro people threw something over the earthen walls, yet the objects moved too fast for them to discern what they were.

  The second in command, now in charge of all of them, sends out a small squad to investigate.

  Meanwhile, behind the ruined gate, an elderly man with long grey hair and a face covered in both wrinkles and scars steps forwards.

  He digs through his white robes quickie, and produces a handful of bones in his hand. With but a quick flick of the wrist, the bones are sent flying over the crowd, through the gate and they land right next to the Grand Warrior's corpse.

  The bones shimmer, rune lines activating as soon as they touched the ground. Yet besides the glowing bones, nothing appeared to be happening.

  "Bring back all the dead of the tribe, in as many pieces as you can find, and put them down before me." a gruff and calm voice commanded the crowd.

  They scattered, looking for the remains of their friends and family inside the pile, next to the pile, on the walls, wherever they could search they would.

  "Grand Shaman, why are you ordering people to bring back corpses? Shouldn't we be attacking the Todtec people that did this?" asked Boris. His feeling of disgust having left with his dinner, the only thing he was feeling right now was anger.

  How dare these people attack us? For what? We've done them no wrong.

  "Young Boris, you shall have to wait and see. You are much too young to be dragged into these conflicts, so please step back and watch."

  Boris swerves. Head darting left, right, and centre.

  He catches a glimpse of somebody at the back, somebody who didn't seem too bothered about the event, at least based on her calm demeanour and unmoving feet.

  "Grand Sorceress, we must attack these people quickly, before they retreat."

  "Let the shaman do his work, and let the beasts exhaust our enemies. Do not throw away your life, not yet." she answered calmly, which seemed to have calmed Boris down quite a bit.

  "Alright..." he grumbles as he leaves, realising that there's nothing he can do.

  'But they're old and powerful, they probably know what they're doing.'

  The Grand Shaman now stands before a pile of bodies. An intricate runic circle drawn on the floor, surrounding him and his fallen brethren.

  *Thump*

  The bone sceptre, taken out of his robes, slams into a rune on the floor.

  It lights up with a light red glow. The light jumps, from rune to rune.

  *Swoosh*

  The old man dodges the light.

  *Swoosh*

  He ducks, and rolls.

  *Swoosh*

  After the third failed attempt, the light switches targets, going for the dead bodies on the floor.

  They cannot hope to dodge, and so they are hit. Set ablaze in a pink flame, one after the other.

  The lighter cuts of the bodies start healing, then their flesh starts mending, then limbs start reattaching themselves to torsos.

  All the while the shaman stands, his sceptre firmly on the rune, yet his eyes alert, waiting for the flames to try their luck at him once more.

  Yet, after an intense few minutes, the flames start dying down, with the elder collapsing on the ground.

  *groan*

  Mouths start moving, as the pain of being resurrected takes over their bodies, and minds.

  Boris runs to the old man.

  "Help me up lad."

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Boris lifts the man up, with his bony arm onto his small back.

  "What was that thing you did with the flames and the people and... and could I do that?"

  "You can do it right now." replies the elder, as his hand reaches inside his robes, and pulls out a large, brown tome with green runes arranged in a circle on the cover. "Open page fifty two, and take my sceptre."

  Boris did as he was told, eager to do magic.

  "So, I have to draw these in a clockwise order, and.."

  "Anti-clockwise. Draw them anti-clockwise."

  "But the book says that that's deadly."

  "Trust me young Boris, and do it anti-clockwise."

  Boris looked at the shaman, then at the runes on the floor that were slowly vanishing, and got to work.

  Meanwhile, the Grand Sorceress was watching the Todtec tribe, ready for their every move.

  Haptky, as well as many of the gathered villagers, slowly pull out any moving corpses from the pile.

  Sadly, that accounts for only about half of them.

  In the dark forest, a low growl manifests itself. Followed by another, and then another.

  The Todtec warriors are surrounded by beasts on one side, and the currently distracted Omoshiro villagers on the other.

  Yet they did not dare retreat into the light, for they knew the beasts would follow, and the villagers would follow too once they saw their struggles.

  So they stabbed, hacked, and slammed, holding their ground until Wisker could spare them his attention. He was, after all, their only hope of getting out of this mess alive.

  With the scouts missing, and his commander on the brink of death, Khal, the second in command, charges into the dark, ready to sacrifice himself for his men.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------

  After a few minutes, and many mistakes that the Grand Shaman had to correct, Boris finished drawing the complex runic circle.

  "Well done, I'm sure you'll make a great shaman one day. But now, I must ask you to step away from the circle." said the Grand Shaman with a hint of sadness visible on his face.

  Boris gives back the tome, but the elder refuses it.

  "Keep it."

  "But elder, it's yours, not mine."

  "As my apprentice, it is only right that you have a way to study, seeing as I haven't been able to teach you anything."

  "Alright sir!"

  Happiness and excitement was felt by Boris as he backed away.

  Yet, when he turned around, only dread was felt deep within him.

  The Grand Shaman, although not very alive looking to begin with, was now a standing mass of skin and bones, slowly being burned by red flames.

  His hair gone, his robes melted, yet his posture straight as he held the sceptre firmly pressed onto the runic symbol below him.

  Soon, his skin melted, and then his bones followed suit.

  There was but the sceptre standing, and not even a trace of the man that once wielded it.

  After a quick head count, about seven out of ten fallen warriors were brought back to life, though they were both physically and mentally drained, so they had to be taken away from the battlefield before the same fate befell them once more.

  "A great man died so that we may live, do not forsake his gift." said the Grand Warrior in passing, limping his way to the doctor's hut.

  Compared to the other fallen warriors, who had to either be carried or dragged along, he was doing quite well.

  "I won't." replied the Grand Sorceress, as she started making her way to the broken gate.

  "How are we going to deal with the intruders?" inquires Boris.

  "The smart move would be to let the beasts deal with them." replies the Sorceress.

  "Guys, can't they just get rid of the bait we threw at them?" asks Boltana.

  "Then we shall pin them down." replies Haptky.

  "I'll throw some more bait, just to be safe." comments the Sorceress.

  Spells flying, weapons falling, people screaming.

  The Todtec tribe was slowly getting eviscerated, mainly from the beasts, but a few fell under the ranged attacks of the Omoshiro tribe.

  Hellena was laid down onto the floor, a runic circle surrounding her with a faint, flickering green glow.

  Whisker was sitting next to her, his arms moving up and down her battered body, as if guiding some form of ethereal energy through her.

  She had many broken bones, as well as internal damage. But after an hour of extensive work from Wisker, her condition was now stable. Though she was pale as a ghost, and performed very shallow breaths, as if afraid to let the air back into her lungs.

  As he stood up, a man fell on top of him. He was missing an arm and a leg, freshly bitten off by a beast to the side.

  Wisker grabs the man that was at death's door, and slams him into the beast.

  He quickly glances around, trying to get a read of the situation.

  'Not good. Very not good.' he thinks, as he observes the constantly thinning line of Todtec soldiers, slowly getting turned into meat lacking in the life department.

  Without any other solution in sight, the old man is forced to pick between dying in the maw of some beast, or throwing his lot in with the Omoshiro tribe.

  The decision was made quickly, for he didn't have long to ruminate on his choices.

  He picks up the princes, and runs.

  He whizzes past a few men fighting for their lives, then ducks below a dashing beast, then proceeds to jump over a few more, all in one swift and elegant motion.

  After a beautiful, yet deadly dance with many beasts and a few abominations, he arrives in front of the northern gate.

  There were many villagers already gathered there, staring at him, weapons in hand, yet none of them made a move.

  -I surrender myself and my commander. Please have mercy.- he signed.

  A woman, with a calm yet cold demeanour, proceeds to throw a blue marble at his feet.

  Wisker, already knowing what this means, quickly bends down to pick it up. He then throws it in his mouth, and swallows with not a second thought.

  Moments later he collapses. Having already put the princess down, he had no worries of hurting her during his fall.

  Now, it was out of his hands. Whatever happens shall happen, and all he can hope for is that the princess won't meet the same end he did.