Information set me free.

  There were no other Griidlords on this side of the fort. There was nothing to restrain Olaf and me.

  It was said that a Griidlord was the equivalent of a thousand fighting men. Our impact in those moments was so much more.

  With the decision made, most of the reserves committed themselves, bolstering the lines, adding a crushing weight down the slope, pushing against the horde. Olaf and I could have split and pincered, but we moved together. We could still synergize. He could still shield me. I could still boost him.

  And together, if we could collapse one wing of the force against us, then it seemed a near certainty that this undisciplined mob would rout entirely.

  In the cold light of day, I take no pleasure in it. But when my blood is up and the heat and urgency of the moment swell my veins, it is terrifyingly easy to revel in the murder of your fellow man.

  My CUTs were an endless blur. Flesh parted, bone sliced, faces contorted screaming before me. I struck with fist and foot, discarding bodies and parts, keeping my path clear, carving into their flank. I was a machine of industry, the refuse of my process spraying in the air. I sowed death. More than that, though, I sowed fear.

  Olaf’s effect, if anything, was more pronounced. Yards to my right, he waded through them. Bigger, taller, larger in every way, he was a titan of chaos. He moved more slowly, smashing three men at a time with his broad shield, the compaction of the battle laying them before him like a buffet. The sentinel pace he kept, the deliberate movements, the booming distorted sound of his shield pulsing with each strike. I killed more men. I think he made more flee.

  And for it all, a sadness tugged at my heart. Olaf had missed the Falling. This was his first time really fighting in formation with regulars. This was his first time becoming a harvester of men, a god among these drifts of mortals, waving before him like corn before the reaper. As I passed my blade through the top of a head and out through the groin, turning to skewer another, I was struck. Had he killed before? I had grown numb. I lamented the part of my humanity I spent each time I let this hunger take me, each time I exalted in my destructive power. I didn’t want to see this happen to him.

  But we were Griidlords.

  The wedge of knights galloped in the space available. Lance still rode at their lead. Their formation was tight, the movement perfectly executed as they dashed along the rear lines, racing toward where Olaf and I devoured the left flank.

  The weight of our soldiers from above compressed the Green Men. It was becoming harder for them to fight, to swing a weapon, to take a step. I could imagine what that compression felt like, the claustrophobia of being pressed on from every side by your comrades—some pushing to reach the line, others scrambling to escape. Seeing the carnage that had been your compatriot. Hearing the screams. Smelling the blood and the excrement. Maybe thinking about the wife or child at home. Maybe thinking that victory was less important than you imagined when the battle began.

  The rout was nearly upon them. Olaf and I spread the joy, killing and crushing as widely as we could, sowing the fear. Each moment we fought, our soldiers died too. The weight of everything might have swung in our favor, but our men, our wards, were still dying. Each minute the battle continued was a minute too long.

  The wedge of knights speared the left flank of the Green Men, only a couple dozen yards from where we waded through them. I saw the light flash on Lance’s helm, his lance driving into the chest of a man, exploding through the back, only to skewer the head of another. The weight and force and sheer brutality of his charge lifted both bodies like so many grapes, the black blood spraying and obscuring the light.

  Like two hundred cannonballs, the rest of the knights poured after him, striking the formation. The sound of each impact was concussive. It was an assault on the psyche. Even I wanted it to stop.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Did I hate fighting alongside him? Did I hate that we worked in concert to collapse the wing? The simple answer was no. Like a competing suitor who had won the hand of a maiden, I was the one with the suit. I was the one with centuries of life stretching before me. I was the one with the power. I didn’t hate that he was here. I didn’t hate that he shared in this moment, this success.

  But he troubled me still.

  He moved so fast, so strong, it was impossible to deny his potential to be a hero to the people. He might have been the best mortal warrior on the field that day. Certainly, on the back of the horse, carving through the Green Man ranks, he was the most visible.

  Part of me hated giving chase, but we had to thin them, had to make this battle mean something. And the rout was when the real killing happened. Worse though, part of me could not be restrained from giving chase.

  They were not organized as their formations collapsed and they fled. Horns blew. There were Buffalo regulars among them, but the undisciplined mob did not withdraw in order. They broke up like the clay of a riverbank, falling away in ragged chunks—a hundred men here, two hundred there—fleeing in panic.

  Not this good. Not this strong. Look at him. Me thinks he must have a relic or two of his own.

  I glanced at Lance, wheeling his steed, lance abandoned, a sword flashing up and down, up and down, the embodiment of a perfect killing machine.

  I said, The Blackwaters don’t have the money for relics. Maybe there’s a family relic or two in Castle Blackwater, but houses don’t employ them like this. Too afraid of losing them if the wielder falls.

  Look at him.

  He was right. Lance was completely unfatigued. Every stroke of his sword as strong as the first. Too strong. Splitting helms. Dashing through shields.

  The fragments of the Green Man force fled down the hill. There was no Griidlord here to ferry them away. They felt the dread panic of needing to put distance between themselves and their pursuers. As they moved, some passed too close to the Fort. The guns boomed, and more death exploded on the field. The knights and the reserve cavalry dealt the greatest toll to the defenseless backs of the retreating soldiers, chasing them down, carving them up with ease.

  Olaf was beside me. “Should we rally? Form up quickly and cross the valley to reinforce the second formation?”

  I pulsed BEAM, restrained targeted shots, picking off man after man. “No need. No point now.”

  Olaf looked across the valley. I was right. Tyson was among the forces there. He was already in fear of me, shaken by the deaths of his comrades. He had surely come here expecting to surprise and destroy us with ease, part of a formation that included four Griidlords, expecting only two to come against them. Half of those Griidlords gathered flies on the slopes overlooking the Fort, rended by my power. Another cowered, fearing the man who had taken his hand.

  The Green Men on the opposite slope withdrew. They were more orderly, a fighting retreat, making space so the footfield could move them away.

  I relinquished POWER and let my sword fall to my side. It was won.

  Now, we had a deal.

  I wasn’t breathless, but my shoulders rose and fell substantially as I recovered from the effort. I felt my eyes wide, my mind on fire with the potential. What had developed this day filled me both with elation and dread. The Green Men had Griidlords on their side from other cities. If this was the unveiling of a grand conspiracy—some alliance of the surrounding cities—then there seemed no hope for us. Today’s win would be hollow. We couldn’t stand against them all.

  But there had not been a single man in the armor or colors of another city. Something was happening here. Something that still troubled me. A few Griidlords could turn the tide of any war. I had been fortunate, meeting suits of lower rank, gambling hard and winning decisively. But what of the next day? How many might be arrayed against us in the next battle? What of the others? Had Magneblade and Tara been surprised as I had been? Had they been overwhelmed?

  Still, Enki sharing his eyes with me could change everything. We couldn’t be surprised as long as our deal stood. We could out-move them, outmaneuver them. Our intelligence would be supreme. I felt dizzy with the possibilities, with the weight of such an advantage.

  I said, I promised. I will fulfill it. It will cost me, politically, to go. But I swore I’d do it. You can’t break a truth, a promise to me, and whatever else passes between us, I won’t break one to you.

  Thank fuck for that.

  I let my helm melt back. The hill was clear. All that remained here were pools of muddied blood and the tangled wrecks of dead men. I ran my hand through my hair and felt the coolness of the breeze on my human skin. We’d won. The first battle of this war had come on me sooner than I expected, and I had stood firm and won my first real victory. A tremble plucked at my knee as I realized how much tension I’d held, how much of it was flowing away from me.

  I said,