The city was about to fall. Dokholkhu looked down at it with empty eyes, seeing the same picture that he had seen years after years after years. querors had herded the locals into the main square, where s’ chief overseers examihe frightened men and womeermining who would fetch a good pri a flesh market and who was too valuable to protect at any cost. The elderly and infirm weren’t cut down on the spot, for this was not a raid. Their value to the invaders was ent, so they would be free to live uhe new rulers. came the mos and historical records. There was no mercy here. Cattle had no need for such things. Cattle only had to work to pay tithes. That was the price of resisting the Gilded Horde.

  It started like usual. Prior to the invasion, Brood Lord had sent his agents, entering into a spiration involving one of the trading houses holding great authority in these nds. His father picked the most ambitious and the least iial house, the fools who would never have risen on their own. Then came Phaser, and portals opened ireets. Assassins poured in, staging massacres, disrupting industry, eliminatiargets, often in daylight. The lord of this city was far to for Phaser to take on; a true and shining example of an Abnormal, his sword has cut down hundreds of fools who tried to encroa his nds and ended many of their assassins. He was left untouched.

  Once panic was sowed and suffit information was gathered, the Horde arrived in force, seizing local farms and mihere were deaths, but Iron Lord’s decree was clear: the people were to be sent back to work, providing food aal for the Merts and the s. The Horde came to quer, not to despoil. As the first hoverbikes he city’s outer walls, Iron Lord annouhe terms of surrender: Lay down your ons and swear fealty to the Horde. Your leader shall bee a bondsman in Mad Hatter’s employ, a lucrative and generous offer that had ofteed in the creation of anreat khan. The leader’s offspring will be divided equally to serve the great khans. Do so, and a paltry tribute will satiate the Horde, and your history and culture will be preserved. Any response short of immediate agreement was sidered a refusal.

  It was deliberately insulting, of course. The Gilded Hrew fat and mighty, but without a stant abundance of fresh gifts and nds to share, its warrirumbled. But the offer was sincere. A broken word cost far more in the long run, and Mad Hatter mercilessly fyed those who dared to break it. Several tries that accepted the offer enjoyed retively safe and fortable lives, often more secure from outside threats than before.

  But not this one, unfortunately. A iator, a head of one of the noble houses, came to parley with Iron Lord. The poor man received a give to his belly; his shrieking screams filled the air when the great khan raised him high over himself, carefully avoiding rupturing the lungs. Before the defenders could unleash fire and brimstone on him, the Horde’s mobile artillery started speaking.

  This city rosperous pce. During the Extin, its future citizens hid themselves in several bunkers scattered throughout these regions, and thousands of lives were saved. Upon leaving the safety, they used the precious wonders of the Old World to erect reinforced walls and struct massive guard towers manned by well-trained crews. The shells of their artillery pieces could hit over the horizon, and deadly and precise howitzers stood ready to ftten those who got close. han three a missiles slept hidden iy’s missile silo. But all that was undone by the betrayal from within.

  The firing patterns were well evaluated; fast-moving missile unchers zigzagged around the city, firing non-stop, sileng one defensive position after another. Mass-reactive projectiles pierced the outer shells of the protective bunkers, releasing poisonous gases io suffocate the defenders. Crimson flowers bloomed on the walls, with the heat of the fme being potent enough to melt both steel alloys and reinforced stone. A few unlucky fools firing from the hidden balies in the wall died, boiled alive in the rolling doalm.

  Screams and curses filled the air, but the Horde kept their distance, sending forth snipers who began thinning those few defenders left. This was just the softening, and at Iron Lord’s gesture, soldiers marched on, digging trenches leading to the walls. Dokholkhu volunteered to join, fully expeg the rival of his father to send him to his death, but the great khan paid no attention to an additional toy in his arsenal, and his officers hahe young man a shovel.

  Feors hummed over their heads, partially shielding them from the intense shelling. Occasionally they were overwhelmed, and a nded shell cratered the ground, reaping a grievous toll of a dozen lives. Information gathered by Brood Lord also wasn’t wholly correct, and hidden passageways opened in the ground. The defenders rushed out in a terattack, hoping to stem the tide.

  None of it mattered to Iron Lord. The battlefield was a horrible orchestra of the dead and dying, of explosives and ever furthering siege warfare, of moving vehicles heading to positions, and soninons firing to disable minefields. And Iron Lord was the ductor. Nothing was left to ce. When a soldier, whose eyes were wide from fear or excitement, rose from the ground to shoot Dokholkhu, he was immediately cut down by a fire from a well-pced automatic turret. Dokholkhu spared a single mio the dead, w what he had lived for, whether he had loved or been loved.

  An officer’s snap brought him back to the world, and the young ma digging, doing his part t the quest to its appointed clusion. Iron Lord and was so widely different from anything he had experienced under his father. There were no killings to inspire the rest; when a soldier slumped, holding hands over her ears, an officer closed in and lifted her , expeg the Pureblood’s eyes. He gave her water a her to the rear to recuperate. Purebloods, Dirtybloods, and even booiled equally in a well-anized mae directed by Iron Lord, their differences fotten. Do your part. Bring about the victory. Trust in prote.

  It was almost divine in its simplicity.

  Seven hours ter, the preparations were plete and the outer resistance had colpsed. Brood Lord raised a hand, announg his own advance, and fear gripped Dokholkhu’s heart. He didn’t want to go against dipidated, but still steady defenses; he didn’t want to see more of his brothers and sisters die.

  “Devour the world!” came the terrible, terrible war cry ushered first by Mad Hatter and echoed by every soldier.

  There was no choice. Serve or be culled. Their father left them with no other option, ruthlessly hunting down any escapees and brutally t them before the eyes of his other children. His father’s soldiers surged on, and there was guhe front wave was made up of what the great khan called rabble. Their job was to soak up the bullets a any st surprises at the cost of their lives. Those who dared to turn back as the shells fell upon them after exiting the cover of the shields’ protective perimeter faced death as the elite force followed in their wake. Brood Lord’s host cked uniformity; every khan ermitted to use what they wanted if they got the job done.

  The invincible son of Mungke’s khan rushed to the gates, ughing as ser beams, bullets, and fire harmlessly slipped off his body. Portals opened on the walls, spewing out soldiers whose purpose was to die and buy time for the Horde to close in. Dokholkhu gritted his teeth, enduring a surge of artificial aggression tugging at his brain. It resulted in further ong the defenders and a series of fights amidst his father’s forces. Monsters of all kinds used their abilities freely, disregarding the safety of their allies.

  By parison, Iron Lord’s progress was more orderly. The Brood had verged on Dokholkhu’s location, joining him in advang on the right fnk, away from their father. Explosioed above their heads, expanding into bubbles of hot psma that engulfed parts of the ining projectiles. Iron Lord tolerated no challengers. Those who joihe accepted superiority of his khaganate kept their heads down and strictly obeyed the ws, or his give collected the head of an upstart.

  A fming dragon soared above the advang ranks, nding otlements and curling its tail around itself. It exploded, iing those in its path aly dodged aside as a slice of water, traversing fast enough to slit the stone, nearly touched its edge. The fiery mass gathered, still little more than a living fme, but its shape ged to a more humanoid form, and the richly blessed Pureblood faced an Abnormal oppo. Fme and water collided, and steam obscured part of the wall.

  Iron Lord adva the head of his forces, riding the rgest thunder bull Dokholkhu had ever seen. Surrounded by his iron-cd bodyguards, the indomitable cavalry was heading for the main gates when suddenly a se of the wall fell and the khan redirected his forces in one smooth motion. Not to be outdone, Brood Lord raced to his portion of the wall; his six legs easily scaled up the ruined surface. He didn’t pay attention to his children’s sufferings and struggled. Buyantu, a seven-year-old boy, had died when a soldier shot him from an opening in the wall. Dokholkhu cherished his brother, educated him, tried to protect him, and he was gone in a fsh. A hail of armor-pierg bullets struck the boy in the head, and his massive body smmed down. Lifeless. Broken. Dokholkhu roared and skewered the soldier who did it, sending him down after his brother.

  Brood Lord never looked back. He reached the top of the wall, filling everything with his deep, elegant ughter. His sword moved up and down, doing butcher’s work and weaving arcs of blur before him. The khan fired his pistol; his pincers closed oreating soldiers, tearing them apart. Dokholkhu shouted at the top of his lungs, hating that the enemies refused to surrender, hating being here, despising the sound of bullets drumming against his chitin ptes, a on killing, firing his pulse rifle at the defenders.

  “Turn them back!” A voice cut through the chaos of battle, and a shot khe rifle from Dokholkhu’s hand.

  There was a new fighter on the wall. Dressed in a rugged bd green robe, the man wielded a pistol and a mace. A battle pte was visible in the wide gashes of his clothes, his face hidden by an old visor. He whirled, fitting into an open brea a defensive line, and fired a Pureblood into his stomach. Then he brought down his mace, smashing the man’s head.

  “Soldiers of the Kingdom!” The man tinued, still fighting. “Your homend faces twilight! But dawn es! Sunlight banishes evehickest darkness! For those who ’t protect themselves, for those whom you love, and for those you protect, cast them off the walls! Fight! Fight until your bodies o longer support you! Kill to save the living! For the future!”

  “Listen to the reverend ordinand!” An enemy officer roared, and a hundred voices joined his. “Aors! Watch over us in our hour of need! Send the bastards to hell!”

  There weren’t many soldiers on the wall yet. Cold sweat covered Dokholkhu as he realized that the Brood were still climbing up. Opened balies halted them, and only he and several Purebloods had reached the top. Swallowing his fear, he charged at the enemy, his sword in a double grip. Together with the two Purebloods, they faced the brazen ordinand. The man’s mace was seemingly everywhere; it blocked a Pureblood’s dagger, and the pistol shot him in the eye. Then its knob struck the other Pureblood ihroat as the ordinand took Dokholkhu’s bde on his pistol.

  They were left alohe soldiers closed in, brandishing their bayos and firing at cle, denying them from climbing up. The ordinand mace crashed at Dokholkhu’s curved sword, and the man pulled it down, trying to break the Brood’s fingers. Dokholkhu headbutted him, but it only cracked his own chitin pte ahe man back a step. Not even a dent appeared on his visor, and the young man dove to the side to avoid a shot.

  “Father! Brood Lord Khan!” he said into the unicator, panting heavily and trying to block the rain of blows. Heavy. He was an Abnormal, his body enhanced by the protective exoskeleton he wore. The molecur bde in his arms was desigo cleave through the regur steel. Yet this dusty, old-fashioned madured, and the man’s strength overpowered him. “I need help! Right now!”

  “Noted, but I have a situation.” Brood Lord replied, not even looking at his son. The HUD showed the khan advang toward the stairs leading down; his shot speared through two Dirtybloods serving Iron Lord and tore an enemy officer in two. “Gotta secure the gold in the banks.”

  “Father, please.” Dokholkhu licked his lips. Another heavy blow of the mace tore at his cheek, sending his helmet flying. “I’ll die!”

  “Sad, but such is the fate of children to sacrifice themselves to eheir father’s goals. Do make it t; I’ll promise to mourn you ter.” Brood Lord’s voice came from the get of the Brood’s armor.

  Heavy swings rained on Dokholkhu as he tried his best to survive. Fear, not for himself but for his brothers and sisters, gave him strength. He gritted his teeth and tried to kick the bastard back, using his front legs, but the ordinand pushed ahead, his gun bsting fist-sized holes in the climbing up soldiers. The man’s situational awareness and skill made all the difference. Even using a single arm, he was overwhelming Dokholkhu.

  “Sinner,” Dokholkhu froze, hearing the screech behind him. A weight, part of the torn wall, flew past him, beating away the mace directed at his exposed head, and the young man exhaled a sigh of relief.

  Not at him. The sentence wasn’t directed at him.

  Taloned hands lifted the climbing figure. The head priest was pletely naked, except for bone neckces ed around his body and sharp fetishes in his long hair. Pitch-bck feathers grew down the length of his limbs; despite the climb, he breathed easily, his bird-like, round eyes locked at the ordinand.

  “Sinner?” the ordinand asked, raising the hand above his head and holding his gun close to his body. “Why are you calling me so? Have I sinned against you in the past?”

  “You stand in our path,” the priest stated. His talons moved, and Dokholkhu obeyed and stepped away.

  “There is many a sin I have itted, and my penance is long. But by the P’s holy name and spirit, it is no sin to stand against you,” the ordinand said. “It is right to stand against the merciless invaders, wh woe where peace reigns, and tears to the eyes of children.”

  “Right?” Dantai screeched so loudly that a prickle of pain touched Dokholkhu’s eardrums. “You dare persist in your bsphemy? How you be right when I am stronger?”

  “You judge rightness by mere strength?” the ordinand inquired.

  “What else is there to judge by?” The priest gestured at the dead around. “The strong desire, the weak give in or suffer. That is the part of the natural order set by the Sky. Your false sermons have led these poor souls astray, shaman. Their children will weep because of you.” The talons beed the man in the dark robe. “Let us dispel these inflicted delusions. Py the part.”

  Anun slipped into the ordinand’s free arm, and he fired. The bullets flew past Dokholkhu, one aimed between the priest’s eyes and a his heart. Both projectiles stopped in midair, several timeters from their targets.

  “They’ll never reach me,” Dantai said, stepping past them. His oppo fired again. “These were never fired.” Twin booms exploded the guns before the priest had finished speaking. The ons weren’t damaged; they slipped from the ordinand’s hands, disassembling into their natural pos. Dantai closed the distan a siep and grabbed the enemy priest by the neck. “Tell me. Have you ever heard of a creature calling itself God…” he hesitated, closing his face to the helmet. “Or of the White Raven?”

  “What are you talking about?” the man whispered, struggling to speak as the talons crumpled his get. He grabbed Dantai’s wrist, but the priest ignored feeble attempts to break his bones.

  “One is a bsphemer, a self-procimed deity who torments God’s child. And the vision of another intrudes on my dreams. I see a great bird, its wings of the brightest white, its head bck, closing in os talons ready to shred me apart.” A crooked ugh left his lips. “Let the apparition try! I will not run from my fate! I will strike it down and grind its boo dust!”

  “I have no idea of whom you speak,” the ordinand squeezed out the words. “My deity is the P.”

  “Is that so?” Dantai tilted his head, fetting about the battle raging around. “Let us test your devotion. A thousand years of punishment shall suffice.”

  His talons released the man, and Dokholkhu heard a low whine as a cage of blurred air closed around the ordinand. The man’s body twisted and jerked, perf hundreds of movements in a single sed as every ounce of pain he had ever known in his life was returo him. But there was no relief. When one injury was over, another would appear, and the agony of the previous oill lingered. Death was deo the person trapped iasis of time; eajury was healed the instant it appeared, just to reappear again, but the brain experiehe pain in full, adapted to a different time-stream by Dantai’s power.

  This was the true terror of Mad Hatter’s chief adviser and the Horde’s spiritual leader. A he was, born long before the great khatun, aill looked young. His gifts allowed him to stretch space itself and manipute time. His visions located the unborn Mad Hatter after the fiercest glowing storm that spawned tless mutants. So many have tried to usurp him, and all have failed.

  To anger him was worse thah. Ba the steppes, in the Sacred Mountain, there was a gallery. It was a showcase of human bodies in unimaginable agony.

  A snap of the fingers freed the man from the cage, and the ordinand spttered on the ground before the shocked eyes of the defenders. Not a shred of self-trol or intellect remained in the man as he screamed, rolling around, foaming from the mouth. The scream paused only to su more air and then immediately resumed. It wasn’t a man’s scream; it was the desperate cry of a colpsed mind, begging for resolution, uo go on.

  “How frail you are, how pitiful yod is. Fall to it and bother me not,” Dantai sang. The man’s torn robes turned into rolls of cloth, his armor separated into ingots, microchips, wires, shining geors, and other stuff. The naked person shrank, rapidly being younger; scars disappeared from his body, but the madness in his eyes persisted. The man de-aged into a teen, the teen into a kid, and the child was reduced to a fetus. Dantai stomped, redug the writhing mass into a blood smear.

  Silence desded upon this se of the wall. Both the invaders and the defenders were horrified in equal measure. The roar from the pace distracted everyone as the surface-to-surface missiles were uo wreak untold havoc. They soared high, and then something thundered as cuts split them apart. Mad Hatter had deemed it important to intervene in person.

  People oreets, civilians, defenders, and invaders alike, yelled in panic as the burning rubble began to fall. Dantai waved his arm, and the debris ged dire, rolling down an unseen chute and then exploding intht domes on the horizon.

  “Have your eyes ope st?” Dantai spread his arms. “Yods are mere idols, unworthy of notice. Your toys won’t help you. The Sky is real. His gifts are real. Bow and…” His talon moved, stopping a bullet fired at him. “Yield, I say!” roared the chief priest and swung his arm, log dozens of soldiers into stasis of pain. “Yield and serve! Bow to the Sky’s Daughter!”

  “Bow to the Khatun!” The Horde’s warriors ted and charged ahead, cutting dow remnants of the feeble resistance.

  More screeg filled the walls, and the Raptor Unit swooped in, unleashed at st. These Purebloods were blessed; streaks of fmes, acid, ing of reality itself came from their hands as they assailed the defenders, enjoying the total air superiority after the defenders’ guns had ceased firing.

  “Devotion is rewarded, Dokholkhu,” Dantai said to him after the struggle was over and the soldiers began to desd. “Sky’s servants are never alone. Something is on your mind. Speak.”

  Dokholkhu wao keep his mouth shut, but the priest’s bck eyes were on him, digging into his temple in anticipation of an ao lie was unthinkable, inceivable, unless he wao experiehe same agony as the priest’s victims.

  “I… was scared,” Dokholkhu said, and the priest moved. He embraced the warriently pressing the young man’s head against his chest.

  “It is uandable,” Dantai said softly, speaking in a human voice. The screeg was gone. “Only demigods and madme afraid of battle etting hurt.”

  “I hate war,” Dokholkhu admitted.

  “Of course you do,” Dantai drew bad nodded. “Who in their right mind loves it? But there will always be war. Be it for authority or riches or respect, people will keep killing each other over nothing till the end of time. It is o think otherwise. Violence courses in our veins. But!” The shaman raised a finger and smiled. “We’ll hurt war. One of the causes of deaths is faith. Differences in it have led to total exterminations in the past. But as we tear falsehoods away and uhe entire world under a single religion, this reason for war will disappear. Is this not the greatest act of pacifism? Let it sustain you, child, for we will strike a blow against war itself!” Dantai stood and faced the city. Behind him, the stasis cages exploded, releasing gasping people, who spasmed and soo limp as the shock stopped their hearts. “Tell me, Dokholkhu. Have you ever heard of the White Raven?”

  “Until today, never,” Dokholkhu put a hand over his heart. “Who is it, holy father?”

  The priest gave him a long look and breathed. Dokholkhu was simply happy to be here. He did not believe in Dantai’s reasoning; the life taught him that nothing sted, and no pce remaiy. But his daring charge somehow ended with him leading the Brood today, and his kin waited away from the sughterhouse.

  “Many visions have I seen. Not all are meant to be, for I carefully sift through them to aid the Gilded Horde navigate the myriad paths that lead to the future,” Dantai said slowly. “But in every single variation of what is to e, I see the same thing. The White Raven challenges me. Where and when? What’s the oute? Never have I faced difficulty divining the exact time. Before, if I pushed myself, I could preditire lives, down to their hair and where they would lose it. Now everything is muddy. I had heard that the Recmation Army has minions capable of disrupting gifts such as mine… But it does not worry me. What is meant to happen will happen.” He shrugged. “e, young warrior. Let us attend to the iable.”