“Look,” pleaded Omung, “whatever the reason for this directive, we must not go into that jungle again. It has claimed Father and now it has Fakar. This was to be Fakar’s land, but he will not receive it now, no matter what we do here.”

“But our lands are all on the same landmass,” reasoned Khador as he tried to remember the purpose for the directive and failed. “There must be no natives alive to intermingle with.”

“Trust me brother,” argued Omung, “those creatures will never be attractive to us. No sane man would take one of those natives to be his wife. They are more animal than human. We each have our own lands to care for. This was to be Fakar’s and he will never possess it. If we lose all of our men to these creatures, then what purpose have we served? Our peoples are already decimated. We must rebuild our nations and we cannot do that by sacrificing more of our men.”

Khador stared at the remnants of the army. He nodded slowly as he surveyed the men. Despair filled the encampment. The spirit of the army was forever broken.

“Very well,” conceded Khador, “we turn around in the morning and head back to our own lands. The men of Fakar may join us or stay and live off the land east of the Fortung Mountains. Those who decide to stay will never be permitted to cross the Fortung Mountains.”

“What of the mages and their destruction of the land?” asked Omung. “Some land must be left tillable for the army that stays behind.”

“I will send runners to collect the mages,” agreed Khador. “It would be wasteful to leave them here for the years it would require to finish the job. We will have need of them in our own lands.”

Khador turned and reviewed the encampment again and gazed at the distant jungle below them. Whatever their need to conquer this strange land, he thought, he hoped it was achieved by his decision to forsake this jungle and return to their new lands.