Step by slow step, I struggled down the Gate's long ramp. I needed my staff for support. I craved a nurse to steady me, but I must do this alone.

I dared not look aside as, one by one, I passed the other Guards, all lain where they'd fallen. Some cried or groaned in pain. Some lay still. Some smoked or steamed.

If I looked, I might stumble. If I fell, so did the East Pass, opening the road to the fertile coastal plain.

Step by step, I approached the Warlord. A true Giant afoot, even bigger in his half-armour, he rode a truly massive war-horse. Yes, that glittering armour was mostly for show. Yet, like the thick plates on his mount's vast flanks, it would turn a Blessed arrow or quarrel. As reported, the horse's legs stood bare, the better to move freely.

I hobbled forwards. The mounted Warlord loomed higher and higher with every step until their shadow reached my feet. Behind him, his lieutenants, sargeants and warrior band waited patiently. Behind them, his Horde crowded, enthralled, stinking.

"So !" The Warlord boomed in his stentorian tenor. "You are the last Guard who dares stand in my path ?"

"I--" I coughed, took a wheezy breath, but could only croak, "I am Davvyd Athynn, Junior PyroKinetic, ranking Power Guard of this East Pass. You are not welcome here. Begone."

The Warlord did not laugh. Instead, he reached his Power, tasted my aura.

"You are not welcome here," I repeated the formula. "Begone. Be--"

The Warlord used a tiny fraction of his Power. Time froze as he clamped down on my humble wits. But I was an Athynn of Clan Athynn. I was a Power Guard, however junior. Called to duty mere hours after my long road-fever broke, I was the last hope, the only hope for the rich lands at my back.

When that first, almost casual gambit failed, the Warlord exerted a small fraction of his agglutinative Power.

'Submit ! Yield ! Submit ! Yield !' Unspoken commands pummelled my wits like a Drill Sargeant. 'Submit ! Yield !'

Now, it was like great storm waves pounding a lee shore.

'Submit ! Yield !'

Now, a funnel-cloud spun its terrible trunk between my ears.

'Submit ! Submit ! Submit !'

Somehow, I endured.

Then, easement. The Warlord shifted in his saddle, raised his visor, peered at me with glowing, crimson eyes. After a few moments, he asked, "Are all Clan Athynn so Braw ?"

Reports warned that any conversation with this Steppes monster held nested traps. Best to decline by-play. "You are not welcome. Begone."

"May I buy your service with riches beyond your dreams ? A harem of boys, girls, even dragonettes ? Lordship of a coastal town ?"

"You are not welcome. Begone."

"Remarkable. You are weak as a new-born. You have no Great Power. Your Small Power could, perhaps, light a candle. Yet you defy me."

"You are not welcome. Begone."

"What a waste. If you will not submit, you must fall--" At his wave, the very air knotted, slammed upon me. I set the Minor Aspect of my Junior Power against it, barely split the strike. A second, greater strike followed. I split that, too, though it passed my shoulders as close as a stampede.

"You are not welcome. Begone."

The Warlord raised both hands. The wide path rippled. The cobbles danced. A crack began, then calmed as I split this attack.

The Warlord yelled. A dozen glowing shapes, bound Fire Sprites, folded from empty air then fell towards me with half-seen fangs and claws. An arm's length from my head, they tasted my aura, swung wide.

Again, the Warlord yelled. Again, the half-seen shapes attacked. Again, they came within arm's length before swinging wide.

A third time, the Warlord yelled. One Fire Sprite ventured closer, recoiled. All fled a dozen strides, huddled as if in fear.

"What ?" The Warlord shrieked at them, his vast tenor almost breaking in fury. "You dare refuse my command ?"

Clinging to my staff, I stepped forwards. I shifted my staff, took a second step, a third.

"You dare refuse your Warlord ?"

I managed another step while he rebuked his reluctant astral minions. I was a nuisance, no threat, no threat. Suddenly, his vast mount thought otherwise, reared.

For an instant, the Warlord was distracted by keeping his seat. I twirled my simple staff, struck the unfortunate horse on its left knee. As I staggered, it squealed with pain. The Warlord's crimson eyes went wide as I fell to my hands and knees.

The horse could rear no longer, came down. The maimed left leg failed. Like a great oak when weary axe-men stand away, the horse toppled. Slowed by his sheer size, by his unwieldly armour, by shock, the Warlord could not leap clear. The huge horse slammed him down, pinned him thus.

Behind the Warlord, his warriors stirred, his Horde shivered. I struggled forwards on hands and knees, for standing was too uncertain, could take too long. Given but a few moments, the Warlord would surely catch his breath. If he withdrew some Power from his Horde, he might throw the horse at me.

I struggled closer.

The Warlord's left arm was trapped. His right flailed. He was a Giant. He knocked me sideways. It was a mistake, for I landed beyond his view. I struggled closer, came over his huge helmet. He looked upwards, his crimson eyes widened. His right arm began a second swing. He was too slow.

I snatched my finger-length Sgian Dubh from its wrist sheath, drove it into his right eye. He screamed like a bollocked bull-calf. I twisted the small blade, gouged that eye and nerve beyond hasty healing. I withdrew the blade, stabbed for his left eye. His flailing arm descended on me. That drove the blade home, snapped the tang.

Somehow, despite his agony, the Warlord threw his Power at me. I'd expected it. I thrust my right thumb into the ruin of his right eye. With full skin contact made, his Power ebbed like water spilled on desert sand.

"What ?" He gasped in horror as his Power-fed strength drained and his limbs fell limp. "What have you done ?"

Weak, half-winded, left handed, I released his helmet catch. I eased the tub-sized helm upwards, inch by inch. I tugged his mail hood aside. I displaced his arming cap to reveal his left ear. The canal loomed like a drinking horn. Beyond the drum waited this monster's brain. I reached back to my nape, drew my second blade. A cubit of slim, unadorned steel, I fed it into the ear canal. A yelp told me I'd reached the drum. I pressed on until I met resistance. Then I drove through that block into vitals beyond.

The Warlord screamed loud enough to draw echoes from our mountain heights. He arched tetanically, titanically, threw me off. I sprawled, bruised and winded, but I'd won. He'd extended his vast Power too widely-- Fuelling his huge, unnatural body and that of his mount, controlling his warriors, animating his Horde. He needed Power to re-gather his Power, Power and time.

He had neither. I'd hurt him too badly, I'd sapped his strength. Breath by tortured breath, he struggled, twitched, trembled, died.

I felt him go. It was like a foul mist lifting. The effects rolled out across the Pass. Bereft of the Warlord's Power, his huge horse spasmed, died. The officer corps collapsed to dust where they stood. The warriors staggered from their ranks, aged within seconds, tumbled to rags and bones. Unbound, most of the thralled Horde turned to rotten corpses. Some began screaming. A few stumbled from the wrack, their eyes mindless. A very few looked about with wits released from endless horror.

Behind me, the few survivors of the East Pass' Power Guards picked themselves up, performed hasty Field Healings. Brushing soot from her ruined jerkin, Commander Brillan limped down the ramp towards me. After studying the scene, she whispered, "You did it, young Athynn ! You felled the Warlord."

"I-- I hope so, Ma'm..."

"We'll have to flense his bones, smash them to shards, burn those to ash, bind them in clay, fire that to bricks then sink them far out to sea. But, if he had a Soul Stone some-where..."

"He left Soul Flight too late, Ma'm," I shook my head, though it was a terrible effort. "He was so close to guessing. So close..."

"What ?"

"He said I had 'No Great Power'."

"Ha ! You know you must remain a mere foot-note in the Guard Chronicles ?"

I nodded, suggested, " 'As our Great Power Guards bravely countered the Warlord's advance on East Pass, visiting Junior PyroKinetic Athynn ventured a flank attack. His harmless but dramatic shower of fire-balls startled the Warlord's mount. Unseated, the Warlord was readily overcome by our excellent Guards. For his daring, Junior Athynn was permitted the 'coup de grace'.' "

"That will do !" Commander Brillan laughed, though she favoured her left side. "Where will you go next ?"

"There may be a 'Dark Wizard' on the North Coast, Ma'm. Reports are confused..."

"Try not to catch another vile ague on the long road, young Athynn ?"

"Yes, Ma'm," I shivered. "For no Healer may Lay Hands on my fevers..."

"When you rave, you do hurl the prettiest, twinkly fire-balls."

"Sorry, Ma'm."

"Don't worry, young Athynn ! My report will imply the Warlord's Fire Sprites caused our furnishings' distress..."