The battle began with the lights of the morning sun shining over the nascent city surrounding Leye, the dungeon-settlement that had cost him so much to raise. With every league the intruders advanced, with every scream of the suffering defenders, the joy the core had once felt for the growth around it faded away.

  Leye could see the full panorama of the skirmish even though his rocky body lay deep within the castle’s crypt. His consciousness spread across every corner of the stretch of jungle surrounding the dungeon. At times he settled on the trees near his enemies, to see how their organized formations advanced slowly but surely toward the center, unaffected by the desperate rain of arrows from the towers that fell upon the armored men. Some arrows struck the eyes of the Aneitas, which their thick helmets could not protect, but for the most part, they were hardly affected.

  Soon the supplies will run out, thought Leye, a feeling of helplessness swelling in his chest.

  Nilu, the veteran swordsman, fought on all fronts. He was without a doubt the strongest warrior among the defenders, and wherever he was, he tilted the battle in favor of the allied side, annihilating the slow Aneitas with agile movements. His speed in combat was such that he could handle four or five enemies at once, giving the Ixtalite defenders some breathing room wherever he appeared.

  But he couldn’t be everywhere. If he focused on the left side of the settlement, where there were more mana wells that hindered the enemy’s advance, then they would press forward on the right, where the route to the castle was easier to access.

  On that side, the fiercest defender was Zar Quar, his second son, who resisted with ferocity using his mighty mace. His helmet made him practically immune to enemy swords and axes, as well as to the few arrows the attackers fired. The invading army had very few archers. It was composed mainly of melee forces, which indicated that they despised ranged weapons.

  But there was one enemy who stood out among his ranks for his enormous stature and his way of fighting. He was a purebred Aneita, short blond hair, almost a giant, who cut down any Ixtalite that crossed his path with his long sword. It didn’t take Leye long to deduce that he was the enemy leader.

  Though his forces held on, the invaders gained ground as the morning advanced. Terror flooded him when the enemies reached the first huts and began to burn them with fiery torches. The Aneitas looked annoyed by the obstacles and destroyed everything like a hurricane, their eyes full of cruelty.

  The heart of the core could only watch as they turned to ashes everything he had built in recent months. So much effort ruined in just a few hours.

  If only Yowo were here, thought Leye, almost in regret. The Aneita woman would have been an implacable defender at that moment, and though he distrusted her as much as the vilest of creatures, he knew that if there was any hope of surviving, it lay in her skillful swordplay.

  But it was unlikely she would appear now. He hadn’t felt her energy for a long time, which meant she had to be far away. He also thought of his firstborn, Nava’rel, whom he hadn’t sensed for weeks.

  Though she had been strong the last time he saw her, she could not possibly face an army like this, though her sharp claws and unexpected attacks might have offered some hope.

  Leye moved his consciousness to a palm tree near the allied vanguard, very close to his mother’s temple. There stood Vidul, hurling wide-coverage spells, creating spirals of fire beneath the enemy squads, killing entire groups of soldiers who burned alive in their armor like pigs in cauldrons. But soon the enemies learned to avoid the places where the ground began to glow, and the exhausted mage’s attacks became ineffective.

  Although the arcanist recharged his energy at the mana wells, he looked so haggard that he soon limited himself to throwing small fireballs at the Aneitas, pitiful spells that barely left rust marks on their black armor.

  Some raiders approached Leye’s castle. They were so absorbed in the frenzy of the assault that they didn’t notice the statue-sentinels guarding the fortress. The rocky beings began to fire their massive arrows.

  The projectiles they launched were thick and strong, striking the enemies with explosive force that sent them flying. Unlike the insignificant arrows fired from the towers, these did frighten them, forcing them to retreat.

  But there were only four stone sentinels, and they were anchored to pedestals around the fortress. Soon the Aneitas were clever enough to stay beyond their range, advancing slowly toward the city’s center.

  Then Leye realized it was only a matter of time before the enemies reached him after destroying everything around. Helpless, totally dependent on the defenders, the core-being entered a deep meditative state to conserve his mana so it could be used by the exhausted heroes fighting to protect him, even though it prevented him from watching the battlefield.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  ****

  Kulad had never been so busy. The amphibian’s webbed fingers were stretched to their limit as he cast healing spells that released green waves over the burn wounds of the Aneita soldiers.

  The enchantments were effective, and many of them healed almost immediately, returning to the looting of the strange city of white columns and wooden huts that Hunn’s host had found deep within the jungle, after pursuing the Ixtalites who had ambushed them along the banks of the Tlexcel.

  Though he hadn’t slept in several days, the amphibian could keep healing the Aneitas thanks to the mana potions given to him by the mages. But while his body could keep up, his mind was on the edge.

  Running for hours through the deep jungle had been no easy task. The paths were narrow and muddy, and the tree branches scratched his smooth skin at the slightest contact. It was as if the jungle itself felt uneasy with his presence, and with that of the invading army that disturbed its domain like a giant serpent of iron.

  At least I’m no longer tied up like a sack of tuna, he thought. As Hunn himself had said, he was now an official healer of the empire, and as such his hands were free. But I’m still a prisoner all the same, he realized bitterly, while beginning to heal another soldier brought before him by the carriers, a crusty shoulder wound oozing blood and sweat. In the distance, he could hear the screams of battle, the clash of steel against steel, and see wisps of smoke rising into the sky as his allies advanced their assault.

  The Aneita’s burn began to heal under the soft bluish rays emanating from his smooth hands. Suddenly, the triton felt the urge to run away—to stop helping these vermin, to slip into the undergrowth and let some beast of the deep jungle devour him.

  But it was useless. The auxiliary warriors kept their eyes on him, afraid that the general himself would cut off their heads with one swing of his greatsword if they allowed the valuable healer to escape. Besides, he wouldn’t get far before the riders caught him. He didn’t even want to imagine the punishments that would follow his little escapade once they destroyed the jungle city.

  I want them to lose, he thought, as the relieved soldier returned to the fight. I want them to fail in their attack, and for every one of them to die under the defenders’ arrows—especially that bastard Hunn.

  But that was far from happening, he realized with dismay as he looked over the battlefield before him.

  Though he only had a partial view from his position at the invaders’ vanguard, he knew that with every passing minute they advanced inexorably toward the white city’s center.

  Worst of all, he himself was helping those wretches succeed. Without his healing enchantments, the attack might have already failed, since the Ixtalites fought with fervor.

  There must be something of immense value in that fortress, Kulad thought, judging by the way the buildings were raised around it, and by the gigantic stone archers defending it—whose enormous bolts tore through attackers with explosions of stone and dirt.

  They were not making it easy for the imperial forces. Even so, the outcome of the battle was clear.

  Then Hunn returned to him. Contrary to what Kulad had imagined, he looked in good spirits despite having fought all morning.

  “Heal me, lord of the seas,” he said, frowning. “The empire cannot afford my death at this moment.”

  The triton had no choice but to do as the Aneita general commanded. He had seen how his sword strikes demolished the city’s huts with overwhelming ease, like a dragon warrior.

  As the giant turned to return to battle, the triton thought about grabbing a nearby dagger and stabbing him in the back. A clean slash to the neck could change the course of the war. But he would never make it. A warrior of that level had his instincts too finely honed, and such a bold move would only lead to his own death. Sooner or later someone else would take his place, and his family in the depths of the sea would lose all hope. By now, several of them had likely already starved to death, especially the youngest.

  The triton kept healing the Aneitas as the afternoon wore on—those wounded by arrows or enemy spells. Few came to him with sword cuts or melee wounds. Those, he thought, probably died at the front.

  Two enemy warriors stood out among the rest for their ferocity and for killing more men than the invaders could afford to lose.

  One was a dark-haired swordsman with hair down to his shoulders, and the other was a being with fully developed muscles and the head of a jaguar, who slew the Aneitas like common peasants with his colossal mace.

  Kulad could see them from his makeshift tent at the edge of the forested city, admiring their fighting skill and courage, though they looked increasingly harried.

  The battle reached its climax when the intense afternoon sun began to fade, turning the surrounding trees from deep green to dull orange. Kulad finally caught a break. It seemed the Aneitas had stopped suffering serious wounds and were now fighting more strategically, using their numerical superiority to gradually envelop the dwindling defenders, who were entrenched among the buildings like trapped mice.

  Their fate was sealed. Their fierce defense would only serve to enrage Hunn further, who would surely order those buildings razed to the ground once they broke through the defenses.

  A loud crash tore him from his thoughts and made him fix his gaze on one of the city’s largest buildings—an enormous marble coliseum that stretched along the right flank. The Aneitas had managed to infiltrate the monumental structure and were now throwing axes from its heights at the defenders. This drove them even closer to the city center, toward the towering white fortress, abandoning countless huts and mana wells that the Aneitas burned with cruelty.

  But the night of the deep jungle fell swiftly, as if the gods themselves had decided to grant the defenders of the jungle dungeon one last evening of grace before saying farewell to this world. A torrential downpour began to fall over the battlefield, forcing Hunn to order the withdrawal of his forces.

  The Aneita leader returned to him while the soldiers erected canvas tents under the heavy rain.

  “You’ve done well, healer. You may rest for much of the night once you finish tending to the wounded.”

  Kulad was grateful for that gesture. The rain was no problem for him, being used to the humid depths of the sea. Perhaps he might even manage to sleep a little before witnessing the terrifying spectacle that awaited them after the next dawn.