"Piteous bastards, are you spellbound?" Tenoris shouted into the cave. "Our pact is at an end. My dark lord has poisoned you, and now you must serve him, or else forever suffer."

They had approached the clearing as the black night softened to blue. There, at its perimeter, they had waited and watched the den's cliffside entrance. No monster had gone in or come out. The occasional groan of discomfort rattled the walls like a grinding wind–evidence that their poison had taken effect. At daybreak, they had snuck forward to the mouth of the cave; now was the time to rile the monsters into action.

"Come out, if you still live. Bow to me." Tenoris licked his lips, lowering his voice for Skippii's ears alone. "Is that enough?"

Skippii attuned his ear to the depths of the cave. Inside, something shifted. The sound of muscle against stone. But no footsteps as of yet.

"Keep going."

"Can they understand Auctorian?" he said, eyes wide and face pale, betraying his fright.

"If they don't get the words, just communicate it with the tone," Skippii said. "Orate to them, make it unmistakable."

At that, Tenoris threw himself into a sonours laugh that rang through the dark cavern.

"Fools are those who act to oppose my master. Nerithon, I say, Nerithon, and…" Lowering his voice, he faced Skippii. "What was their name?"

"Cosmipox."

"And Cosmipox, evil-deed doer. Weak, impetulant monsters. Come out into the morning and submit. Submit to Cosmi-"

Suddenly, a crushing sound cut through the clearing behind them. Skippii spun from the cliff, searching the forest and the bog at its feet. There, the trees were sparse, and shapes were clear from a distance, and about one-hundred metres away, something waded through dawn's gloom–a human shape as tall as the canopy itself.

Then before them, the sound of mighty limbs stirred within the cavern. With a low growl that shook his ribcage, Skippii heard the cyclops come awake, and quickly to the entrance.

With a surge of magia, Skippii struck the rock with a Seismic Quake. A ripple of energy shot up the cliffside. Stones rained down upon them. Tenoris dove at him, raising his shield above their heads as the cavern's mouth began to collapse.

"Wait," Skippii shouted as the big legionnaire tried to drag him away. A second time, he thrust his palms into the rock, evoking a rupturing. The cave's roof gave way and they ran. Behind them, the tumbling of stones beat like frantic drums, pelting the backs of their legs and feet with debris.

Beyond the clearing, trees parted like reeds, creaking as their trunks were bent low. Canopies whooshed aright as they were released, sprung like catapults. A fearsome face emerged through the canopy like a fell serpent rising from a lake's depths, its eyes heavy with a dull fury; then, as the trees snapped back into place, it disappeared, obscured, but not for long.

"Run," Skippii said, pushing Tenoris away. "Beat the trail. Make the way, I'll come to you."

Tenoris hesitated, opening his mouth to protest, but Skippii grabbed the rim of his shield and turned it across his chest, then pushed against it with both hands. The big legionnaire staggered backwards.

"Go!" he yelled.

Slowly at first, Tenoris backed away from him towards the treeline, and the spot they had chosen for their retreat.

"I will manage," Skippii said. "I can contest them. Don't throw your life away, I will need you later."

Tenoris clenched his jaw, then nodded and ran.

Suddenly, a thumping hail battered the stones behind him. The cave's mouth had collapsed, rubble piled high, but the fissure in the rockface was tall–a slit which stretched its full length. Giant hands groped through the cracks, dislodging stones which clattered towards him. The barricade wouldn't hold for long, and there was no telling how many monsters were clawing to be free.

"Dis ekeîs baínei." A voice rumbled like baleful thunder. His head shot around, but his body would not follow–it wanted to face the other way and flee. The cyclops emerged from the trees–the biggest he had ever seen, with long, loping arms down past its waist. Its blueish-black skin sagged upon knotted muscles, stretched taut over a pregnant belly. Long fingernails gripped a tree's trunk, dragging it behind. Above a bulbous, flaccid nose was a large single eye. It turned on Skippii and blinked, then all its face creased into a grin.

"Sy ei." It dragged the trunk through the underbrush, its branches snagging and snapping like stems of straw. The ground trembled as it planted the trunk and leaned on it as a staff, bending low and pointing a long finger at him. "Prodótēs."

"That's right, prodótēs," he said, planting his feet, erupting with energy. "Let's do this then."

The cyclops' grin became a strain. "Prodótēs," it bellowed. A squall of spittle struck him, sticky with decay. Skippii grimaced and wiped his face, disgusted by the creature. But while he deliberated, it had risen, lifted its trunk and leaned over to charge.

Boiling Blood rushed through him, bubbling his muscles and feeding his brain as he came alight. He was a master of his limbs; time became lucid. With a breath, magia swelled inside him, erupting from his flesh in flames. He skipped backwards deftly, measuring the cyclops' stride. It heaved the tremendous trunk in two arms, lumbering forward with a clumsy gait and brought the club down upon him.

Skippii leapt aside as branches lashed his arms, protecting himself with a Blazing Armour. Cinders flickered to life, sparking upon impact, but he was unharmed. His many evocations burned in harmony, synergising with his shining core. Where before he had lit separate candles, now he piled the wax and tinder on a bonfire.

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Fishing a stone from his pocket, he squeezed it in his palm and melted it into a Blister Arrow, then launched it at the monster's eye. He missed his mark, but struck the cyclops in the arm. It grunted, but did not abate. With one long stride, it came upon him and dragged the felled tree before it.

Skippii jumped at the last moment, sailing high, but was caught by the branches. Spinning in the air, he landed and rolled, righting himself quickly. Smoke trailed the tree's branches where it had struck him, and his Blazing Armour had absorbed the blow. But he could feel by the strength which the cyclops wielded, if he was struck by the trunk, he would surely be hurt. He could not make a single mistake, or else it would all end here.

Stones toppled nearby. A quick glance revealed a large opening above the rubble pile which blocked the entrance to the cyclops' den. Dark flesh moved in the shadows, and a huge arm snaked through the gap, pressing against it with tremendous might. Others battered the barricade from inside. He did not have long.

The cyclops hefted its club and leaned towards him, blotting out the faded stars. Dashing forward, he drew the short curved sword at his waist and ran for its legs. But keenly, the cyclops stepped backwards and brought the club down. Skippii leapt towards it, sailing beneath the trunk, and rolled to his feet, never slowing in his charge.

With a roar, the blade burst into flames, and he slashed at the beast's feet, cutting anything he could, spinning with fury. With a flash of fire, he split the cyclops' flesh, but he wanted more. He agonised to feel the blade's bite. Blood hissed in his flames as it soaked the air. Then came a shadow.

A fist slammed beside him, shaking the ground. He stumbled, darting backwards, angling his sword at its wrist. But it rushed towards him too quickly to evade. There was a shower of flames as he was struck, and his Blazing Armour erupted to absorb the force. But his whole body shook, as though his skeleton would burst out the back of his flesh. Blackness coated his vision, and a crushing numbness. The heat remained. Skippii felt himself rise and raise his hands. He sensed the tremors in the ground, and could judge by them his and the cyclops' distance. He had been hurled a long way, but his vision was returning.

Running sidelong, he shook his head, breathing steadily, replenishing his magia. Dizzily, he beheld the cyclops in the clearing's centre, bent and clutching its wrist. Dark blood oozed over its fingers, its expression was knotted with pain.

Skippii checked himself over. Though he was bruised, he was not beaten. However, it had taken all of his magia to receive the monster's fist. Defeat balanced on a knife's edge. It was only because he had gotten his blade in position at the last moment, and struck his enemy in return, that he had been granted time to recover. Get caught once, and he could weather it. But twice, and he would die.

A gust of wind blew from the forest at his back, calling to him. He could retreat now, but how much time had passed? How far would Tenoris have run? Not very far, by his estimation, and he had not injured the beast enough to waylay it. On the opposite side of the clearing, the den's entrance widened. More limbs groped at the gap–at least three of the beasts. The poison may have had its effect, but they had recovered now, that was for sure, and they were smitten.

The cyclops' eye creased with cruelty as it came upon him. With a sudden cry, it snatched up its club and strode over. Skippii had three stones in his hand, and they quickly liquified, but not quick enough. Raising the felled tree to the sky, the cyclops faced him like a tower, hard and broad.

Launching the Blister Arrows, Skippii dashed aside, but the brute was smart to his tactic. It twisted and caught him. A shadow crashed down. He raised his arms, pouring forth a Blazing Armour with all his might. Smoke and flashes. Flames. Then a crushing force.

Skippii bent, pressed into the earth. The trunk lay above him, smouldering and billowing smoke. Above the turmoil, a gleaming eye beheld him, as the moon through dark, parting clouds. His vision–his nightmare–in the flesh.

The cyclops bent, pressing upon the tree to trap him. His ribs heaved against the weight and his lungs compressed, unable to take in air. The mud swallowed him, squelching over him, burying him. But beneath, the heart was hot. His fury was not dead.

The monster reached through the blackened branches, meaning to crush him like an insect, but Skippii grabbed the trunk with all four limbs and evoked his Enkindle Flames with more force than he had ever before.

The trunk exploded in a shower of fiery splinters. Its mass crumbled in his arms as his magia raged through it, tearing it asunder. The weight was lifted, and fresh smoke filled the air. A dreadful wail followed, renewed with each staggering breath the cyclops took as recoiled.

Filling his lungs, Skippii ground his teeth to the tightening pain in his ribs, but bore it, and crawled free of his grave. The cyclops rose above him, hands clutching its face. Blood trickled through its fingers. Many fires pinned its flesh–burning staves of searing pain.

The ground shivered as the monster collapsed, whimpering in agony. Beyond it, the cave moaned with grief as its brethren lamented its fall. If they had been smitten before, now they were enraged.

Skippii rose clumsily, grabbing a nearby tree to steady himself. He was at the edge of the clearing, but beyond it, the rubble strewn den had been all-but excavated. With a clatter, boulders fell, and the monsters arose. He had no choice but to flee.

Turning into the trees, he sprang like a deer. Boiling Blood energised each stride. The cyclops' wails diminished with distance, but he knew it would not be long before they caught up to him. He needed to make sure they were drawn in the right direction, as a hound after a hare. Prancing from tree to tree, he made towards a sharp decline down the mountain's side. Planting his palms against an evergreen tree, he first shook it and yelled, so that the birds in its branches had a chance to flee. Then he drew in his magia, and repeated the thrust of Enkindle Flames.

With a shriek, the tree bore his flames. Its canopy lit like a candle, hottest at the top, though it did not detonate as the cyclops' tree had before. Perhaps that was because the monster' trunk had already been burned by his Blazing Armour and had been prime for breaking. For now, he considered the evocation to be called: Enkindle Burst.

Scampering down the mountainside, he left three beacons in his wake to guide the cyclops' path. After half-an-hour of descent, he came upon the stream where he and Tenoris had chosen to meet. Luckily, his companion was already there.

"I could hear your battle from afar," Tenoris said. "Have you left any alive to fulfill our plan?"

"Plenty," he said, panting. "Hand me your axe. I broke the sword."

"Such a nasty habit," he jested, passing the weapon.

"I'm sure I'll find another," Skippii nodded at the grey walls beyond the foothills. One last mound settled at the feet of the Sleeping Mountain, speckled with forest, stretching and diminishing into a plain. There, the walls of Nerithon reached out to meet it, guided by a river, which ran through the city's centre and over its cliffs into Eúploos Sea. Here, the legion's had not dared encamp after brutal assaults from the cyclops. The fields were empty of red banners and tents of valiant men. But soon, all the lands around Nerithon would be full of glistening bronze, speartips and shouts of battle.

A devastating bellow rumbled in the belly of the mountainside, sweeping down over the forest like a gale, startling flocks of birds from their trees with a shaking of the very air. Far above, branches cracked as a brutish landslide tumbled towards them and the city's walls.

"Come," Skippii said. "Let us get close, and hide."

"If the legions were not awake already, they will be now."

"I just hope that Cliae… I hope their message arrived."

"I hope that they are unharmed too," Tenoris said, reading his heart. "Let us trust that they are–that the Gods have brightened their way. Oyaltun drifts with us. This task is hers as much as ours. Have faith."

Skippii's thoughts reached out to the Goddess. His hands groped for a holy trinket, but he had never possessed one. Instead, he gripped his mother's broach, which he had taken to wearing as a bracelet.

"Find them well, Oyaltun," he said, and ran.

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