Chapter 43

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Flames crackled beneath Wendy as she hovered over her camp with crossed arms. Her cold blue eyes scanned across the enemy ranks across the field, who were now on the move. Even she gulped at the sight of their innumerable horde marching closer. We've got an hour, she estimated, Unless they try to push it, but that's unlikely. No, they'll wanna relish this. They'll want to savor every bloody bite.

She exhaled and descended into her own encampment, touching down nearby General Trackenkaken. She tugged her helmet off her head before giving him a brief and grim smile.

"They're on the move." she informed him.

Track nodded. "Then so should we be."

The two strutted across the camp to their respective forces, Track to the teeming mass of Innutukian soldiers, and Wendy to her measly but enthusiastic group of Kemarian comrades. Then, out of her peripheral vision, a movement caught her attention, so she snatched her head back. Wendy's face brightened at the sight of the Danlashian flag being hoisted up, accompanied by a mostly blond-haired battalion of her countrymen. After swiftly excusing herself, she jetted over.

Wendy landed at the fore of their formation, just in front of their lieutenant colonel, a light-skinned man with an angular face and short stature. He squinted up at Wendy and nodded.

"Greetings, Miss Archer," the man enunciated, his Danlashian accent sounding like familiar music to Wendy's ears, "Councilman Viers sends both his regards and an apology for his rudeness."

Wendy smiled. "Well, if this is the result, I forgive him gladly!"

"Excellent. Now, I'm aware a thousand men is a bit minuscule in a bloody colossal battle like this'll be, but please understand, Sir Viers was forced to plead long and adamantly to convince the Council to send even this many."

"It's okay." Wendy reassured the officer, "As far as I'm concerned, one bloody flag-bearer would have been enough, at least for the purposes of boldly proclaiming, 'Danlash stands against you'."

"I suppose you're right. At any rate, it appears you're already moving in to engage."

"We are. So you showed up just in time. Fight well, and spill plenty of 'conte blood."

A smirk leapt to the officer's lips. "You'll not have to ask me twice."

A pleasant demeanor lingered on Wendy's face as she flew back to her men, only diminishing when she set her mind to leading them into battle.

********************

After two hours of hiking, Brant and his companions finally completed the ascent to Dove's Knoll. The path leveled out right as it led them into a row of bushes. Walking sideways, they traversed the narrow passageway between the prickly vegetation until they found themselves in a clearing.

Before the trio lay a stone-paved walkway about the length of a football field. It terminated in a quintet of steps of the same material, leading up to an expansive platform where Dove prostrated himself before his olive branch, which had an increasing glow emanating from the leaves. The white-robed god was surrounded by several dozen metal pillars, some in more decrepit condition than others.

Brant swallowed as he studied the platform, the remains of Dove's ruined temple from long ago. The iron pillars no longer supported a roof as they once had. The religious texts offered at least four conflicting accounts in explanation of that fact, and that was only what Brant could remember. Secular commentaries aplenty had been written since then, rather muddling the issue than clearing it up.

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