Li Nu Zhan General of the West, knelt before the body of his greatest foe on the battlefield of his greatest victory and mourned.

He had taken nothing to eat or drink for two days. He had wept until his tears would no longer fall. Now he sat, unmoving, as he heard his aides and servants whispering behind him.

When his victory had been stolen from him and defiled, he had raged. After that, he had mourned. Now, days later, he had no emotions left. Only a spark of something deep inside, a flame deeper than anger or grief. An ember that might, with the right kindling, become a wildfire.

The stench of death and destruction blew past his nostrils, but he took no notice. His men had finished piling and burning them days ago. Now, only this one remaining. The body of the great khan, his greatest foe.

For ten years he had hunted, fought, dueled, outwitted, and been tricked by this man who lay dead before him. The pyre was piled high with the man's weapons and bodies of the general's own soldiers laid around his feet. His lieutenants had protested this, but he had overridden them in a low voice with no emotion left.

He had said, "There is no dishonor in being defeated by the likes of Khan Amir-Lein. In death, they do honor to his victory. They fell as worthy foes, defeated by one of the greatest of all time, and they will go to the halls of our ancestors with their heads held high. And there they will toast his victory in the battle they fought together."

It had been an incredible battle. For three months, their armies had maneuvered through the wasteland. Each time the General of the West almost had his foe trapped, there would be a reversal, a cunning counter-attack or an escape in the night. Just when he thought he had him cornered, reinforcements for the Darwur had arrived on his flank, and the battle changed.

But General Li had rallied his men and brought in his secret reserve of lux, knowing it was now or never. With his cultivators displaying abilities the Darwur had never seen, thanks to the expensive shipment of lux Li had at last wangled from the beancounters, they had shifted the flow back in favor of Empire. As General Li had always know would be the case.

And Khan Amir-Lein had seen it. He had sent his final flag of truce across the field and begged the General of the West to spare his men. In return, he would fight one final duel for their lives. It was one the Khan must have known he wouldn't win. He was old now, weighed down with years of war and the grief of losing all but two of his sons, and he had no cultivation, just the battle-hardened body of a lifetime spent campaigning, now starting to bend with age.

The duel had not been offered as a means for him to escape, merely as a means to sacrifice himself to the General of the West in return for the lives of his men. An honorable death. General Li had accepted. He wanted to show the Darwur respect, and perhaps lay the foundation for peace. The Emperor required him to pacify these lands, and had instructed him to do so if it meant killing every man, woman and child who roamed the steppes. But General Li had come to understand these people, even to respect them, and if he could forge a peace that left them their lives and honor, so much the better.

Or so he had believed. Until the moment all traces of victory and honor was snatched from him.

He allowed himself to wallow in it, kneeling before the body of his fallen enemy, for the last time. He would face the memory, and vanquish it.

The hated prism had appeared in the sky above, a flash of light that drew all eyes. With an unnaturally loud voice, she had said, "Well done, General Li. You have served your Emperor well. You have defeated his foes and delivered them to his justice. You will be greatly rewarded."

Prism Eri smiled as she stretched out her hands.

"No!" Li had shouted. "Stop!"

But he had been too late.

Just as he had been too late the day Eri had killed Akiko.

Bolts of orange and red shot out, traces of other colors dancing between them. They fell on the Darwur army and destroyed them, while leaving his men standing.

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Less than one in ten had survived, many of those were terribly wounded. Even now, his men had taken the ones they could to the base camp to do what they could for them.

The worst of it was the look in the Khan's eyes. He had turned to the General of the West with that final light of rage and defiance in his eyes, and then the bolt of lux from the heavens had killed him.

He hadn't even drawn his sword for the final duel. He had just been cut down like a dog.

In the silence that followed, the General of the West had had no words. Shame and rage roared through him as Prism Eri descended. She stood surveying her handiwork with smug satisfaction. "Well done. You have secured this district well. Now you will have a choice whether to support me in my crusade or go crawling back to the Emperor for the reward he will no doubt give you. If you asked him, I bet he would even give you another wife."

She laughed, a disdainful mocking peel. He had longed to reach out and tear out her throat, but his muscles had been robbed of all energy. He wasn't sure if it was the overwhelming power of the prism's will or just the crushing emptiness in his soul. Ten years, he had wrestled with this foe, and at the moment of his victory, he had had it snatched away. The khan had deserved better.

But wasn't that what he had been fighting for? Defeat of his foes? Not to give them a fair fight, but to crush them like a general should. A warrior might seek an even match, but a soldier and especially a general did not. Why then did this victory feel so vile?

That was the question he had wrestled with over the last two days. Now the breeze blew, carrying the stench of the battlefield away, and for a moment, there was fresh air. It brought to his ears the sound of hooofbeats.

They'd come at last.

He heard the Darwur approach, riding their horses to within a few yards before dismounting. There was a low murmur of voices. He spoke their language to a degree, not well enough. But he didn't need to understand what they were saying. Their meaning was clear.

Why is he here? Why is our greatest enemy kneeling before the body of our leader?

Unprotected with his back to us, is he giving himself into our hands?

Has the Great Sky favored us at last with a chance of revenge?

General Li remained kneeling before the pyre. He swallowed and cleared his throat, his mouth parched from days without drink. "This was dishonorable."

The Darwur stirred and muttered, perhaps surprised at hearing him speak their language.

"This was a great shame, and I cannot wipe it clean. Yet I stand here as witness to your khan's greatness. For ten years, he and I were the dearest of foes, the strongest of enemies. I do not deserve to light this man's pyre, but I beg of you to let me do it."

Footsteps grated in the gravel behind him. He half expected a sword stroke to fall, relieving him of his head and his shame. Leather armor creaked as the man behind him reached down.

Strong hands grabbed the General's shoulders and pulled him up. He staggered, his feet weak after kneeling for so long, but the hands held him upright. He was turned ungently around to stare into the face of a Darwur warrior.

The man's cheeks and mustache were wet with tears and snot. His features were strong and reminded him of the Khan's.

So the last son still lived.

One had stood at his father's side when the bolts fell from heaven, but General Li's earlier deceptions had lured force of Darwurs away, so they had not been there for the battle. They had been under the command of this son. Temaj, if the General recalled his name correctly. The eldest.

The young man's hands gripped the General's arms tightly as he looked intently into his face, searching for something. Then he let go with one arm and thrust a water skin against the General's chest.

"Drink!" he growled.

With shaking hands, General Li unstoppered the skin. His knees quavered, but the Darwur warrior kept his right arm in his grip and held the General upright. Cool water trickled down his throat.

"Drink small," the man said, using the General's own language.

After several small sips the skin was lighter, and the General handed it back. By now, the other warriors had crowded around, and the son of the Khan handed the water skin off to one of his other men. He grabbed the unlit torch that lay on the ground next to the embers of a campfire fire. He thrust it down and stirred the coals until at last, the pitch on the end of the torch caught. The whole time,he still held the General's arm in his firm left hand.

When at last the torch caught, he held it up, thrusting it at the General close enough that the heat warmed his face.

The man's voice shook and caught in his throat, and his tears were streaming as he said, "Only you can do this."

He held out the torch until at last the General took it with shaking hands. He took a faltering step back, and then bowed deeply, the torch held in front of him, as if he was thanking someone for the greatest treasure ever bestowed.

And then he lit the pyre of his enemy.

As the flames started to lick up the stack across the bodies of his own warriors and that of the Khan, the Darwur warriors assembled around him began to chant low and deep in their throats. The son of the Khan stood next to the General as they both watched theflames dance towards the sky.

Finally, as the chanting warriors reached a fevered pitch, the General bent to the ear of his foe's son and said, "Join me. I will avenge us both. I swear on my soul and that of my daughter, your father will have vengeance."

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