“You attacked them,” Qurrah said, not giving Velixar a chance to answer. “You gave chase, and for what gain? You went in blind and unaware of the strength of their fighters.”

“Do not question me, half-breed,” Ulamn said, glaring at Qurrah. “I killed more than I lost. We are warriors of Thulos! We are here to fight and die, not wait and ponder. And if we had waited, they would already be long gone.”

“A mess of unprepared refugees and soldiers surely cannot outpace your winged warriors?” Velixar asked.

“They created a magical doorway,” Ulamn said. “I don’t know to where, but it is certainly far from here. Many escaped. I commend them, for they fought more valiantly than most worlds I have faced.”

“A doorway,” Velixar mused. “To Omn, or perhaps the elves?”

“It matters not,” Ulamn said. “All kingdoms will burn, until our banners decorate every hill and our sigils mar every stone.”

Ulamn eyed the two necromancers, his lips curling into a sneer. The two were withering by the hour, their strength sapped into maintaining the portal through which he and his soldiers had arrived. Much as he detested informing them of his plans, he knew they needed to survive, lest the portal collapse and his men be trapped. But if he was to be stuck with them, he could at least test their mettle.

“The battle was not a total loss, despite our casualties,” Ulamn continued. He gestured to where a final squad lagged behind the others. Tessanna slipped through the demons and joined Qurrah’s side as the demons neared. She wrapped her arms around his elbow and kissed his neck.

“Do you love me?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

The squadron landed, ten bound and bloodied prisoners in their arms. One immediately caught their attention. Ulamn grinned, thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Upon the battlefield we obtained a most amusing prisoner, a paladin of Ashhur. Even wounded and defeated, he had interesting words for my warriors.”