The strange armored man had somehow broke the spirit of their enemies! That must have been one of their leaders!

The defenders gave out a great cry of victory, but Kang knew that it wasn't over yet. He quickly ordered his troops to chase the fleeing enemies, to make sure they didn't regroup and attempt another assault.

But that was only the finishing touches on what had been a long, intense battle, the battle the likes of of which Kang had never thought to be a part. A battle for the history books.

A battle they had won.

The enthusiasm didn't exist at the Fountain of the Swans.

Anchored by a warehouse on one side and a large inn on the other, the Arakites formed an anchor to which the rest of the defenders clung, forming a shield wall to hold back the terrifying masses of undead warriors as they strove to break through. The undead fought with and without weapons, those without seeking to drag men out of the lines and into their numbers, where they would be torn apart. The defenders fought furiously to hold the lines and prevent themselves from being dragged out to their doom, as the mindless undead pressed up against the interlocked shields of the Arakite Legions as men behind pushed them away with pikes and spears, trying to drive them through the heads of their enemies

Darvon was in the middle of it, using a pike to push away undead pulling at the shields of the Arakites, men literally being held in place by the Ungardt and Centaurs to prevent the undead from grabbing the edges of the shields and drag the men out to where they could be rent apart. Things could have been alot worse, if Jenna hadn't killed at least a thousand of them with magic that cut through them like a scythe, decapitating a mess of them at once. The Ward that contained the others made their numbers at least managable, but that had been all that Jenna could muster. She was sitting unceremonoiusly on the ground about twenty spans behind the lines along with the Keeper and the other Sorcerers, who were all completely drained. There would be no more magical assistance from them, but they had already done more than enough to give them a fighting chance. Darvon returned to the grim task of pushing back undead, many of them wearing the uniforms of the Arakites and the Sulasians, bodies hijacked to fight for the other side.

There was a scream to his left, and one of the Arakites was pulled into the writhing mass of undead, his screams cut brutally short as he was torn to pieces. Undead suddenly surged into the hole the man had occupied, and for a terrifying moment, Darvon thought that they were going to break the line. The Arakites struggled to close the hole, but too many of their undead enemies had taken up the space he'd occupied. One brave Ungardt bodily slammed into the undead, using his great height and size to bull them out of the hole, but paid for it when the undead grabbed hold of him and dragged him past the Arakites. Darvon saw that the man had saved them from having the line breached, but he was about to pay for it with his life.

But something odd happened. All the undead seemed to shudder, all at once… and then they all fell to the ground.

The Ungardt that had saved the line stood out there, all by himself, about a span in front of the startled lines, looking around in confusion. But all the undead had fallen to the ground, and none of them were moving.

Darvon blinked. Had the magic that created them expired? One of the Arakites jabbed at the corpse of a Dargu with his spear, but it didn't move. None of them moved.

The defenders held the line, wary that they would all get up again, but it didn't happen. They stayed in formation, muttering amongst themselves in a nervous kind of anticipation for long moments, ready if the bodies moved again.

But they didn't.

An Aeradalla landed behind the lines, and was quickly rushed over to Darvon. The winged woman saluted him sharply, out of breath and obviously excited. "The troops at the Tower have repulsed the humans trying to break in!" she announced. "They killed the enemy commanders and captured the magical device that made all the bodies move, Lord General Darvon. The enemy troops are running away!"

There was a sudden roar of relief and joy from the assembled armies of the defenders, and Selani and Arakite exchanged congratulations as Ungardt pounded Centaurs on the back, and Sulasians clapped hands with Wikuni and Were-kin.

"General Kang requests that you dispatch troops to catch all the fleeing enemies, Lord General," the Aeradalla said happily. "They're in a full rout!"

Darvon blew out his breath, saying fervent prayers of thanks to Karas. That had come literally in the nick of time. If those undead had had five more minutes-he didn't even want to think about it. "Alright then, let's break up and capture all the enemies running away!" he boomed. "When that's done, it'll be time to celebrate! Lieutenants, take your squads out into the city and capture any enemies you encounter! My dear, if you would be so kind as to go up and tell all your friends to circle over the enemy soldiers, we'd appreciate it. They'll be much easier to find with your help."

"Of course, my Lord General," she smiled sweetly at him, then turned and vaulted into the sky.

"All right then, why are we standing around here?" he called in good-natured ribbing. "We have orders to carry out! Let's go, let's go! A little more, and then we feast and celebrate our victory!"

There was a sudden booming roar from the defending armies just before they broke up and began scouring the streets for the routed enemy, for they all knew that for all intents and purposes, the battle was over.

They had won.

To: Title EoF

It was a celebration.

It took all the rest of the day and half the night to carry out the bodies of the slain and give them proper burial a few longspans to the south of the city, where no farming was carried out. But after that was done, a task that civilian and soldier alike were committed to accomplishing before the bodies became a health risk to the city, the celebrating began. Every festhall, inn, and tavern was packed with revellers as they celebrated victory over the enemy, celebrated an end to the fighting, or celebrated the memory of the brave men who had fallen protecting Suld. Though many had died-more than they'd expected-the victory made it impossible to feel too somber for the lost, for the intoxicating wine of victory had flushed the survivors. There was a surprisingly small number of fights, most of them being the Ungardt, and they usually only fought one another when they were drunk, so the revelling taking place out in the city was a generally peaceful one.

Of course, not everyone was celebrating. There had been no civilian casualties, but there had been some damage to the eastern quarter of the city, and those who had had homes or businesses damaged during the fighting were not in a partying mood. That problem had been exascerbated after the rout began, as desperate ki'zadun soldiers broke into the empty buildings and tried to hide. The men that went in after them usually weren't very careful about the building, so alot of internal damage was done to the buildings standing as the soldiers fought to drag the prisoners out of their holes. Though they were grateful that the enemy had been repulsed, those unfortunates who had suffered loss in property were still a bit put out with the whole thing, and rightfully so.

But all in all, given the situation they had found themselves in, everyone agreed that it could have been much worse. They had managed to repel the ki'zadun, defeating a force almost twice as large as the defending force, doing it with magic, fortifications, strategy, and not more than a little luck. Stories had already begun to be recanted about the battle, about how the katzh-dashi of Suld rose up and showed the world the power they kept hidden, the power that had made the other orders of magic so fearful of them. Jenna and Tarrin especially became very highly mentioned in those stories, the Were-cat already being somewhat notorious, but the small, young, dark-haired girl, such a pretty and incredibly brave girl, rose up to prove she was the equal of the menacing, infamous Were-cat. She caught the attention and the hearts of many who had seen her fight. Minstrels and bards had already began composing songs about Jenna and her stand against the dark Wizards of the ki'zadun, and they got more and more outrageous with each draft. Several proposals of marriage had been delivered to the Tower gates as well, though most of them had probably been tendered while the hopeful groom was drunk and flushed with the thrill of their victory.