Chương 308: Chapter 571: Summer is here again.

Swamp Wyverns don't fly. They try, but they can't quite get the hang of sustainable flight. Their powerful legs let them sprint across the ground and leap high in the air. Their wings allow them to glide silently for long distances. But they can't fly high. If anyone had told a Sage that a flock of fifty Swamp Wyverns was skimming along in the sky, thousands of feet in the air, he would have laughed. And yet, that was exactly what was happening today.

Each wyvern's mouth was closed tightly on a long leather strap strung between two geese. They had been towing the gliding wyverns higher and higher into the sky until they were above the Winter army. Getting geese to do anything was nearly impossible... unless you patiently explained exactly how much chaos they could cause by doing something.

Geese and Ducks both had a very good idea of how armies were organized, but where the ducks used that knowledge efficiently, the geese used the knowledge to throw sand in the gears of industry, light buildings on fire, and topple civilizations.

The same Sages who knew wyverns couldn't fly would have shit themselves at the thought of one-hundred geese working together on one project The ducks had spent days identifying their targets and would be guiding the Wyverns to them as they swooped down on the unsuspecting Ice Mages. The ducks were hard pressed to keep up with the Wyverns as they descended, flapping hard and then tucking in their wings as they stooped from on high.

A young adult swamp wyvern weighs close to three hundred pounds, and the average Ice Mage weighs between 160 and 180 pounds. The wyverns of the Lindy Brigade were hard-muscled and looking for revenge against the army that killed their founder at such a young age. The Ice Mages didn't stir a muscle if magic could do the job, and were soft and weak under their fancy robes. In a battle at a hundred paces, magic had the advantage.

When the wyvern has the advantage of surprise and glides down at over a hundred miles an hour to attack from behind, the Ice Mage doesn't stand a chance. Some of them were killed instantly as their spines snapped. Others were horrified to find themselves dangling from two clawed legs by their heads, which eventually separated from their bodies. Still others were thrown in front of the charging unit of cavalry and stomped to death. Two might have survived, after somehow ducking low and avoiding the attacks.

Sadly for them, there were more wyverns than Ice Mages, and the cleanup wave took them out while others plucked barbarians from saddles. After the initial attack, they screamed past the front lines of the Empire Army, then used their momentum to soar upward and come around again, reforming as a group and looking for another target. The ducks gave them one, pointing them at a unit of lightly armored cavalry on the right flank, intent on attacking a formation of ballista and onagers.

As one of the riders saw the wheeling wyverns, he screamed, and the unit panicked, riding to the edge of the battle to escape. They didn't make it. The wyverns still had plenty of momentum and height, and they came down on the horsemen, killing many with their first strike and then fighting on the ground until the horses were scattered and the men were dead. Two wyverns were also dead and would be mourned.

Five others were injured, and stayed where they were, waiting where they had plenty of food for the Shepherd to find and heal them. The rest raced across the ground to find another fight. The geese felt they'd done enough work for the day and went off to have fun. Their playground was the camp of the winter army. Only warriors too injured to fight, and a few camp followers, cooks, and serfs were in the camp. Several hundred people, but scattered throughout the camp, and no match for a hundred geese.

From all directions, they waddled into camp and began stealing anything shiny or tasty, and causing what trouble they could. Draft animals were released from harnesses and driven off with a few loud honks. The herd of mastodons was a prime target with a dozen geese standing on the pachyderm's heads and honking in their ears until they stampeded through the camp and out into the snowy fields. And, of course, a few geese were arsonists, prone to torching what they could.

They ran from tent to tent with torches, igniting tents and bedding. Resistance was met with force and painful wounds. No one attacked a goose twice. When several wounded warriors formed a unit, the geese organized against them, surrounding them and pecking at their hamstrings until they fell to the ground in pain and begged for their lives, that was enough for the geese; they got back to the serious business of destruction. Other people were in destructive moods as well, including the three units of war machines.

Ballistae were firing into the oncoming light cavalry, tearing apart riders and horses alike. The onagers on the flanks did even more damage, firing their heavy stones into the flanks of the charging horsemen, each stone killing multiple creatures. The catapults in the rear were dropping Greek fire into the marching infantry, turning men into torches and scattering their formations. All across the line of battle, the Empire was holding firm and striking back.

Claudia had directed her Fire Mages to hold their fire and ignore the Frozen Dead. Instead, fireballs blasted towards the oncoming light cavalry, killing riders and panicking the horses, turning a deadly wedge formation into a disordered mess. The Butchers Brigade, with no one coming to fight them, split into two groups and began chopping apart the Frozen Dead. Their adzes were backed by high strength and shattered the frozen bodies or scattered the muddy ones.

The soldiers held the line, and slowly, the workers advanced in both directions, killing as they went. In the center, the armored cavalry of the Rime Knights was building speed, an unstoppable wedge of heavy cavalry protected by spells of protection, winter winds, and icy armor. Opposing them were the Butcher, the Shepherd, and the Hive Princess. Rolly used his staff to give them a clear path and double their speed as they charged. Ozzy was building heat as he went, leading the way.

Smoke and steam were pouring off of him, and he was roaring like a locomotive. The Knights leveled their lances, intent on skewering their large foe. With a hundred feet to go, Ozzy breathed fire, creating a large wave of hot smoke. Every breath put out more smoke, a cloud that followed him and billowed out to the sides. At fifty feet, the smoke and fire formed into the image of a ship's prow, fire and smoke creating heavy shields that had bounced cannon balls and tornados.

Caldrius had spent many hours with Ozzy, working to understand the Butcher's shields and to teach him how to erect the Heat Shields that the old pyromancer was known for. The result was a hybrid shield, as strong as anything Ozzy had ever made, and burning with the heat from his furnace. And it was driven by two tons of Butcher moving at nearly sixty miles an hour. The lead knights and horses were pulverized as the force of the wedge hit them.

More were killed as their formation was split and forced apart by the charging giant. The knights who touched the shield felt all of their protections fade from the heat, leaving them vulnerable. Squirmy and Rolly went to the right, Rolly now encased in dragon scale armor, his scythes slicing through knights and horses as he bounded and leaped among them, not letting himself be pinned down. Squirmie darted from face to face, her six cleavers carving furrows through flesh and killing a knight every few seconds.

Ozzy dropped his shields as he came out the other side, conserving his mana. Turning, he saw where two whirling dervishes were carving a bloody path through the scattered knights, and focused his fiery breath on the other half. Bereft of their protections, even the Tier three knights took horrendous wounds from his flames.

Snorting fire and roaring at his foes, Ozzy began to swing his Hog Slicer right to left and back again, reaping lives with every swing, and doing as much damage as he could before the knights could reorganize. That happened faster than he'd expected, fear giving the knights speed. The fifty knights still able to ride charged again at the Empire lines (and away from the Butcher), seeking glory in battle. The hundred knights on foot began to surround Ozzy and tried to pin down Rolly.

Squirmie was so small that few even understood what was killing so many of them. She watched Rolly's back as he leaped and bounded among the knights, lopping off heads and shouting 'Halooooo!' But Ozzy knew the odds, and they weren't good. Too many enemies were here, and eventually they'd manage to take him down. Most of the blades were turned aside by his massive mitigation, but not all. Two horsemen charged him from behind, their lances going deep into his left thigh.

They died a moment later to fire, but had done their job. Others were darting in, using ice spells where they could to wound him with freezing weapons. He kept them at bay and dispelled their magic with his own, but his furnace was beginning to drop low. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Rolly took a wound to his skull that sent him reeling, and only Squirmie picking him up and flying to the edge of the battle saved him.

They landed and turned to fight, just as a short, redheaded witch roared past them and took off the head of a knight in her way. Titania's axe was screaming its murderous song and pushing her to kill. She grinned as her body count mounted. Floating in the air behind her was the Silver Sorceress, twin beams of sunlight taking out a knight every few seconds, concentrating on those around Ozzy. It was a bloody fight, and the outcome could go either way. The main battle was the same.

The odds had been evened, but now the Empire forces were hard pressed to hold their lines. Mages cast their spells, chewed burney bacon, and cast again. The soldiers in front held their shield walls, not stepping back, with pikes and spears stabbing into the enemy that tried to break their lines. The Butchers Brigade was surrounded, and dying one by one, killing four barbarians for each of them that fell.

In the end, only Ernest and Bertrand were left, mounted on a large rubber duck that spewed hot water at the surrounding knights as Bertrand swung a jagged chain of twisted wire, keeping the barbarians at bay. Claudia pulled hard on her power, and far away, her husband felt it through the link they shared. Her will was stronger than his, but his link to the lands was from his ancestors, and at times like this, he could pull more power.

He sent everything he could to her, sitting on his throne, ignoring everything, sweat pouring down his brow. She used the power from her Duchy to force back Winter's influence, weakening the Frozen Dead and causing the barbarians to pause in fear. Then she and the Red Banner charged through a gap as her soldiers moved right and left, driving into the enemy formations like a lance, the veteran soldiers more than a match for the tribal horsemen.

Men were fighting and dying all across the field, no quarter given or asked. And then the earth quaked, and a bright light was seen to the North. Suzette felt the change. Her staff was blessed by a goddess of nature and summer, and she knew that Winter was leaving. She called out in a loud voice:"Hold Fast, Men of the South! The Champion of Sedgewick is Victorious!" High into the air went a beacon of light that exploded and sent a rolling wave of heat, life, and light across the lands.

The frozen lands as far North as Hurlsburg thawed, the ice and snow vanishing into a thick mist. Elementals of Ice and the Frozen Dead evaporated, and their souls were released from bondage. The Rime Knights felt the power of Winter leave their bodies, and many began to age rapidly, their perfect faces gaining wrinkles and their flowing white locks becoming strings of dirty grey. Some sat down and wept.

Others fell dead, but some still tried to fight valiantly, and the Butcher swept his weapon back and forth, killing them with ease as if they were pieces of meat he was cutting in his butcher shop. Cragstone knew this was the end of the army, but it didn't have to be the end of the clans.

"Horns! Sound the retreat. Break away from the battle. Leave everything you can't carry on your horses." He wheeled his horse to leave, but realized his bat was missing. He found her hat on the ground, laughter coming from inside.

"Tam... we have to go!" The laughter continued.

"She's dead. Ding frickin Dong, the Bitching Witch of the damned north is Dead, Dead, Dead! And about time!!! I was so damned tired of being short!!" The hat rose in the air as the bat grew and changed. Where the bat had been was now a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Glacia. But where the fallen Ice Mage had been sullen and cold, this woman smiled and laughed, twirling around and dancing.

"I'm free, Craggy, free!! I'm only sad I didn't get to do it myself!" Cragstone hadn't seen the real Tamiq in twenty years. He could have watched her dance for the rest of the day, except for the small fact that an enemy army was coming that would want their pound of flesh. And they had hundreds of miles of territory to cross to leave the Empire.

"We need to move, Tamiq, they're coming." She looked at the Empire army, mostly trying to reform, but already she could see small units moving their way, along with a pack of nasty-looking wyverns. She rolled up the sleeves of her dress and reached out with her hands, gathering ambient mana to her.

"Let me take care of that problem. I've spent twenty years studying the magical notes of any wizard stupid enough to leave a window in his tower open." The rising mist from the thawed ground thickened, becoming a thick fog that would hinder pursuit.

"There, now we can go." Cragstone didn't wait, sweeping her up and putting her in front of him on his horse, galloping with what was left of his tribe on the long journey home. Far to the North, Ben had a front row seat to the explosion, as the captured summers exploded from the shattered casket. He froze as he saw the familiar mushroom cloud rise into the sky. No child grew up without knowing what that meant.

They were taught in school about Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Cairo, Greenland, and the disastrous nuclear mining attempt on Mars. His mind, normally so quick, shut down for a second. Then something large and shaggy knocked him into a small gully and lay on top of him, white fur pressing into his face. The shockwave hit as the energies exploded, individual summers racing into the distance like miniature suns, flying to where they were stolen from.

Ben was spared the brunt of the force, covered by a ton of fuzzy, undead dog. Around them, trees were torn from their roots, and bushes were shredding. Hot winds poured out in all directions. Goodboy stood up... and whined at him. Ben saw the wounds that had been inflicted by Chartok were bleeding. The wolves likewise stood, then fell, bleeding out from mortal wounds. Goodboy fell to the ground, still alive, but only for seconds. Chartok's magic was gone, and he was dying from his wounds.

Ben's mind made an instant decision, hoping that saving the large predator wouldn't mean his own death. He used his spells as fast as he could, trying to hold off death, but he knew that he was losing. He could feel Goodboy's heart beat once, then again, and then it was still. Ben knew he was dead, but part of him refused to accept that, and rebelled at the idea. He stood with both arms up to the sky and called down Phoenix Fire in a rushing torrent that didn't end.

He called the fire until he'd used all of his mana, then his stamina, and finally, he almost killed himself, fueling the spell with his own life. He collapsed next to Goodboy and put his hand on the huge carnivore's head, weeping.

"Sorry, boy, I tried." And then he felt a pulse. A glow of fire enveloped Goodboy, who stood up and howled with joy, then looked down at Ben, eyes narrowing. And then he shook. Fur went flying everywhere as his winter coat was shed in an instant, as the huge canine shed the unneeded winter fur. Covered in fuzzy white fur, sitting on the ground, Ben waited for what would happen next. Goodboy looked at him, then kicked the curry comb closer to Ben, and barked.

The weary Courier stood up and began to brush Goodboy's coat. In the distance, he saw the remains of Northguard, only a few shattered rocks. Nothing remained of the wolfpacks, the knights, the Tower of Northguard, or the Champion of Sedgewick.