The Sagityrs of Korus were in trouble. Right, Left and centre, their numbers were torn down brutally by the Jai, lost souls driven mad by time and too much magical energy. Ezra watched as one of the guards he befriended took a slash to the throat, caused by one of the razor rocks that the Jai had carved. Tears rolled from the Oracle's eyes as he tried to kept his friend's wound from bleeding out. Time slowed around him as arrows swished past unheeded. The guard's name had been Dorran and the spark was fading from his eyes.

Ezra stood up suddenly from his friend's body and stared into the fog as dark shapes lurched savagely from the gloom. The shadows grew across his face and were suddenly broken by two swirling orbs of sky blue light; orbs that traced the enemy lines; orbs that brightened within seconds; orbs that went upwards to look through the sky and call to powers ancient and obscure. Ezra cried out his war song, arms out straight either side and a blue fire a blaze in his palms.

In the sky, gray clouds blossomed and churned. Thunder roared overhead and something fell into the crowds. A scream came from the enemy lines as one of the Jai caught something through the arm: a long glass shard. More fell around the first, piercing through rank and file with no discrimination.

The leader of the Sagityr army, stared again in turn as the glass rain fell over the enemy and knew the day just might be won...



-excerpt from field report-