Santiago watched Bishop Titus and Father Galvin return from the ceasefire discussions with the enemy encampment where the sand dunes gave way to craggy mountain peaks that towered over the desert. The warriors of Valhalla Steel had prevented Father Galvin’s infantry brigade from escorting artillery bound for New Tehran in order to assist the Holy Army in taking the city. It was a hard, brutal fight that had already resulted in over twenty thousand dead and twice that in casualties according to the last report Santiago heard. 

The city would fall regardless of their arrival or not, but countless lives would be saved if they could travel through the pass that was currently blocked from them and provide the siege with additional fire support.

The two figures emerging from the Sand Skipper they used to traverse the great spans of desert could not have been more different. Where Bishop Titus was weathered by the many years of service to the Holy Church and barely filled out his ceremonial robes, Father Galvin was tall and lithe, his every movement smooth and calculated. The Father had served for decades and the tech used to keep him in fighting shape was no small price. His form-fitted combat suit, top of the line tech developed by the many sacred engineers who developed weapons of war for this Crusade, allowed him to cut an impressive figure. The various plates on the armor shifted color from the dull silver of the Dune Skipper he had been piloting to the brown and tan hues of the sand he walked across without a short lived transition from one environment to the next. 

The two leaders, spiritual and martial, walked side by side into the trenches that they had ordered dug in order to set a base of operations for their assault on the pass.

“How do you think it went?” Santiago asked, popping back into the trench after watching their return.

“Knowing those heathen bastards, Aspirant, not well,” muttered Crusader Emery. 

The elite warrior was glowering up at the mountains where their enemy had settled in as he worked out the small bits of caked on blood from his sword hilt. Already casualties were piling up from the two day long fire-fight. How Valhalla Steel had held so long, especially after two nights of artillery bombardments along their position, was beyond him. Both nights the mountain became wreathed in fire and destruction at Father Galvis' command. And each morning, as dawn rose behind them, they assaulted the mountain pass only to be pushed back. The northmen would boil out of their hiding places and fight like the devils they worshiped, laughing and bellowing their war chants over the cacophony of death that ensued. 

Both times their holy band had been pushed back, but not without a high price from the enemy. 

“There can’t be many left,” offered Crusader Alexi, rubbing grit from his eyes as he leaned his impressive frame against the trench wall. “They are fine warriors, but our intel says their numbers can’t be more than a few hundred and they are running low on ammunition. Another day and the pass will be ours.”

Santiago nodded, feeling a small relief that the killing would be over, at least for a time. At fifteen years of age, he had just made the cut to join the front lines as a Crusader Aspirant. They were few and far between, but Father Galvis had been assigned two Crusader’s and their Aspirants in order to secure the firepower the Church was hoping to bring to the siege. 

For a brief moment, the glazed over eyes of his peer and former classmate Higal flashed into his mind. The two of them had been pinned down after both Crusader’s rushed into the fray and a well timed round had taken his friend through the ribs where his chest piece didn’t protect him. It had blown out his lungs and heart, leaving a gaping hole the size of Santiago’s fist. Santiago would have tried to save him, had there been enough left to save.

Crusader Emery had been furious at the death of his Aspirant, nearly rushing deep into enemy lines to quench the righteous anger that had been burning within. Had it not been for Alexi’s intervention, the other Crusader may have been lost to them, which would have been a terrible blow to their battalion’s strength.

Had the young Santiago not seen his fair share of combat in this seemingly endless war, he might have wept. Yet Higal, like many brothers in arms, was but another brick layed on the path to victory. How could he mourn for the dead if he knew them to be at peace with their Heavenly Father?

Because I watched them die and I remain.

Have faith… The voice in his mind whispered.

Santiago paused and bowed his head in thanks to his Creator. The Path was still being revealed to him and he was eager to follow, but the world was full of suffering. It was all too easy to focus on the evils going on, which played right into the Enemy’s hands. Fear and sorrow were just as powerful tools of the Devil as lust and rage. They altered your perception and caused you to react instead of think. Santiago had seen, first hand, the terrors unleashed by those filled with fear and he refused to become a part of it. He was, and would forever be, faithful to his God who gave him strength.

“I hope you are right, my friend,” Emery said, disengaging the mag-lock on his pauldrons as he sat down in the trench and, taking out a can of steel-seal, began to repair the various bullet scars that marred his armor. “But I’m sure the Iron Bear has more tricks up his sleeve.”

Alexi nodded while Santiago remained silent. The Iron Bear had been a thorn in the side of their branch of the Holy Army over the last few years. The northman was responsible for countless ambushes on supply convoys, forcing the Holy Army to divert more of their soldiers away from the frontlines in order to protect the caravans that fed their legions. A giant of a man and a true devil on the battlefield, it was well known that he did not shy away from a hard fight and had personally engaged in nearly all of the conflicts between them. 

“Perhaps you’ll have your chance at him?” Alexi offered before adding, “If God wills it.”

Emery paused his work, his eyes falling to the sacred blade he had been given upon becoming a Crusader. “I pray it is so.”

Santiago found himself staring at the sword as well. Styled after the great Templar blades of old, at the moment it seemed to be made of simple steel and basic design, yet in the hands of a Crusader on the Path, it became an instrument of righteous destruction. Part of Santiago’s training was designed to allow him to find the Path to Christ, but he had only been able to see it twice, both times when death’s foul touch was closing in on him. 

In those moments he could see the Path that would guide him to safety, as long as he had the faith to do as it directed. Even then, it had almost been more than Santiago’s mind could process. Walking the Path was like being forced to view two different screens on opposite sides of a room at the same time while the terror and thrill of combat echoed through your veins, and yet, if he could maintain it, his mind would eventually be at peace, for in that moment he was not alone.

Turning his thoughts away from the past, he looked over at his mentor. “If they are willing to discuss a ceasefire, then perhaps they are worse off than we anticipated?” Santiago offered.

Alexi rubbed the stubble on his face and gave Santiago a slow nod of acknowledgement. “A fair assessment, and likely not wrong, but the thing you must understand about the Iron Bear and those who follow him is that they do not fear death. It is a part of who they are. To these northmen, there is no greater honor than to fall on the field of battle.” The big Crusader took up a handful of sand and allowed it to slowly trickle out. “I have faced many warriors and great beasts since this Crusade began, Aspirant. I fought in the jungles before the foul ziggurats of the Aztec gods and have endured the lightning assaults of Allah’s Cataphract’s in the eastern plains. Yet of all the soldiers I have encountered, save for the greater devils of Hell, the warriors of the north are some of the fiercest I have faced.”

“You speak as if you admire the heathens,” Emery said, looking up at Alexi in a half challenge.

Santiago said nothing. He had fought alongside both Crusaders over the last year and knew them to be men of devout faith, but he had not expected to see them clash as often as they did. Where Emery was always eager to battle those who stood against the Church and it’s followers, Alexi was far more reserved. Not once had he heard the man speak ill of their opposition and he was quick to accept surrender once the day was won.

“I do,” Alexi said, meeting Emery’s eye with the same calm he seemed to embody wherever he went. “They have more than earned it.”

Emery sneered. “And the Church wonders how the Enemy has been allowed to rule this earth for so long. With a mentality like that, this war will never end.”

Alexi’s brow furrowed, which was the closest Santiago had seen the Crusader come to disgruntled. “We are to be as Christ, Brother, not the murderers and butchers of this world. We are here to be examples of His love, not His wrath.”

Emery chuckled darkly and shook his head. “How can you be so blind, Alexi? How many lives has God commanded us to snuff out? The time of forgiveness has passed. This is an age of His wrath.”

The older Crusader considered Emery’s words, his expression, that of a man unsure whether or not the food he was eating had spoiled. “We are flawed and broken things. There is no denying it. I cannot say that I have lived as the Lord dictates nor have I allowed every opponent an opportunity to surrender so that they might come to Christ, but I have tried. I do not hate those who oppose me, for I am no better than they are. We cannot become the same as the monsters who rule this world, brother. We must rise above it.” 

“Foolish words from a mind too set in its ways,” Emery said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

A low pitched whistling broke through the tension of their argument and Santiago had only a moment to realize what it was.

“Cover!” somebody called down the line, just as the mortar rounds fell from the sky.

Santiago threw himself against the side of the trench as explosions rocked the earth above him, sending waves of sand into the air. Santiago quickly pulled his visor over his eyes to avoid the falling sand from getting in and quickly took up his Redeemer mag-rifle. He was about to join his brothers in arms when Alexi grabbed him by the back of his body armor and hauled him away just before a mortar impacted the section of trench where he would have been.

The concussive blast knocked Santiago into the far wall and would have likely burst his eardrums if not for the dampeners built into his helmet. 

Screams called out from those who had been above ground when the mortars began to fall. The bloody torso of a soldier rolled into the trench and fell beside him, the man’s lower half little more than entrails and viscera. Santiago scrambled to his feet and returned to his mentor’s side.

Throughout it all, the Crusaders simply stood up in the trenches, their helms, designed much like the knights of old, self sealed around them while the pauldrons maglocked on command. Between explosions, Satiago could hear the faint thrum as the powered suits activated. 

“Protect the Father and Bishop. Santiago and I will-” Alexi began, only to be cut off by the sound of carrier drones sweeping in, followed by the bellowing warcry from the teams of northmen jumping out.

“Assault teams,” one of the squad leaders called out. “Engage!”

Even while the mortars continued to rain down around them, soldiers popped up to engage the enemy. Small arms fire erupted from the trenches while the carrier drones swooped in, dropping northmen amongst them. Weapons teams scrambled to bring heavy mag-cannons to bear on the incoming drones, but already the northmen were engaging in a brutal melee that forced their soldiers to focus on the threat before them rather than those coming in.

“Focus fire on those drones,” Emery snarled, hoisting up a hapless soldier who had lost his helmet before thrusting a rifle in his hands.

Another drone carrier opened its doors, allowing more northmen to leap into the fray. Those unengaged in the melee were able to pick off a good number of them before the drone pulled back. Bodies tumbled from the drones like puppets with their strings cut as mag-discs ripped them apart mid air.

The survivors engaged their Valkyrie suits, which allowed them to glide short distances without the need for heavy boost packs like those implemented by the Holy Army. Satiago popped his head out long enough to spot at least six drone carriers, half of which had already unloaded their warriors, many of whom were positioned near Father Galvin and Bishop Titus’ position. 

Both Crusaders exchanged a look and Santiago withdrew from the wall. Their command was threatened and, if they didn’t act soon, their entire operation would fail. 

Alexi’s voice sounded in Santiago’s headset. “Follow behind and gather who you can to the command center. I’ve already assigned my sigil to your rank. The soldiers will obey your orders as if they were my own.”

The weight of the responsibility laid upon him was not something Santiago could ignore. It was his first command and he felt a mixture of anxiety and pride that Alexi would deem him prepared for such a role. 

“For the glory of Christ,” Santiago intoned, hand over heart.

Alexi nodded before he and Emery drew their sacred blades and rushed into the fray. The suits they wore amplified their speed, allowing them to take great bounding strides. Emery took the lead, bullets skittering all about him and not so much as a single round finding its target. As the Crusader met his first opponent, a bearded warrior that didn’t have the time or speed to save himself from the now glowing sword that cleaved him from shoulder to hip. The Crusader bounded on with Alexi close on his heels. 

Santiago took a breath to settle his nerves, doing his best not to stare too long at the bodies laying around him. As he raised his eyes to the task before him, he saw an endless melee. Bearded warriors roared their battle cries and descended into the trenches. At one point a warrior wearing a Valkyrie suit lost control and plowed into a mounted heavy mag-cannon, killing both the gunner and himself upon impact. Soldiers of the Holy Army, however, were no greenhorns. They had been fighting for over a year now and met their opponents beastial roars with fevered cries of their own. A pair of soldiers, both bloodied from the attack, moved in coordination with each other, one firing his mag-rifle into the mass of bodies while the other, his primary weapon gone, drove his Repentance combat knife rapidly into the ribs on his downed opponent before taking up that man’s battle axe.

I can do this, Santiago told himself. God was with him and his faith was unbending. 

He would not fail.

Breaking into a run, Santiago moved through the trenches toward the command center. Seeing the two nearby warriors, he pulled up his Redeemer and increased the magnetic output as high as it would go before firing into a charging northman. As close as they were, the discs went through the man’s body armor and knocked over another northman behind. The dying warrior staggered, tried to rise, but the axe wielding soldier of God caved his skull in.

“On me,” Santiago called. Both soldiers looked his way, likely seeing Alexi’s sigil through their visors, and slammed their fists over their hearts in salute. 

“Yes, Aspirant,” the axe wielder intoned, followed shortly by his companion.

For a moment Santiago considered explaining the situation, but there was no time to waste and, as Alexi had taught him, men responded to leaders of action, not those torn by indecision. Reaching down, Santiago pried another mag-rifle from the hands of one of their deceased comrades and tossed it to the axe wielder along with an extra magazine of his own. 

“Let’s move,” Santiago said, taking the lead as the two soldiers fell behind. 

Together, the three worked their way through the trenches, clearing section by section and growing their numbers. Santiago left enough behind to maintain the line while he pressed forward with another fifteen or so who were still in fighting shape. The closer they got to command, the more the resistance grew and soon they found themselves in a standoff where the piles of dead were used as frail protection while the battle raged on. 

Santiago found himself taking cover where a mortar round had blown the trench wide. By this time the Crusaders had entered the command area, out of sight from where he could see them. Yet Santiago had seen Alexi get hit. A blistering sniper round from somewhere in the craggy peaks that left a purple hued line across his vision, even through the visor he wore. One moment Alexi had been cutting through his opposition, and in the next he had been knocked out of sight. 

There was an Odin-eye sharpshooter somewhere out there. One with what could only be Rune engraved rounds saved for just such an occasion.

Now, Santiago’s heart was hammering in his chest. Already he had faced death twice. Once as a grenade had landed at his feet where, even as he attempted to jump out of the way he knew he wouldn’t make it clear of danger. Then one of his soldiers jumped on top of the explosive and reduced the blast with his body. The second had come as a hulking northman and his wild eyed companions surged over the top of the trench. The big warrior had rushed toward Santiago before he could bring his rifle to bear and was slammed into the trench wall. One gnarled hand was wrapped around his neck as the mag-rifle was knocked from his hands. Satiogo kicked the warrior in balls, loosening the grip, and slammed his helmet into the northman’s brutish face over and over until his teeth came loose and Santiago’s axe wielding companion finished the job. 

There was no room to maneuver in the trenches and, without additional support, they wouldn’t make it to the command center. The warriors of the Iron Bear looked to have achieved their victory.

Have faith… the voice in his mind said once more.

Santiago blinked. This time it wasn’t a thought, but a command and not one spoken by any man on this field of death. Then a calm came over him that he had only experienced twice before and he knew what must be done.

“Aspirant,” the axe wielding soldier called. “Get down!”

Santiago ignored the man’s warning, loaded his last magazine into his Redeemer, and adjusted the magnetic output.

“Fear not, for I am with you,” Santiago quoted, the scripture clear to all those around him.

Santiago had found the Path once more and the world seemed to shift. 

He could see the threads of dangers set before him. Small flashes of precognition that showed him the death filled chaos that he was about to move through. Yet while death and suffering raged all about, the Path was clear and he had set himself to walk it. 

“Be not dismayed, for the lord your God will strengthen you,” he intoned as he stepped into the open. 

The trench was crumbling all around as the firefight intensified, yet he could see what the Lord required of him even as the threats closed in.

“I will uphold you with my righteous right hand,” Santiago whispered, and followed the Path with every ounce of his faith.

The sound of violence dimmed as he sprinted forward, seeing countless outcomes that would result in his quick and brutal end, but knowing that as long as he obeyed the will of his God, he would survive. Bullets buzzed past, one coming so close as to part the skin on the side of his scalp, yet he did not falter. Following the Path, he zig-zagged as fast as he could, seeing the Path narrow as danger grew close, but stepped where he knew there would be no danger. 

Moments before he performed an action, he could see what the Lord wanted of him. It was the way of the Path. It was only when your faith faltered that death could claim you.

He saw himself using the edge of the trench to leap across to the other side, and so he obeyed. Bullets tore up the sand and earth around him, yet none reached their target. When the Path showed him where to shoot, he did and warriors died. As it showed him when to turn, where to step, and when to shoot, he obeyed.

And the dead around him began to build.

Frustrated and disbelieving shouts began to intensify as Santiago moved through the enemy, killing without hate or rage. Valhalla Steel warriors rushed forward, a pack of hungry wolves coming in for the kill, when the Path put his faith to the test.

It told him to remain still.

Every rational part of his mind screamed that to stand before the approaching warriors was to die. He could see no way out, no avenue or advantage that would allow him to continue, yet the voice in his mind told him to stay.

And so he did. 

As the northmen were close enough to strike, the lead warrior’s jaw vanished in a spray of gore and the men beside him went down in a hail of mag-discs from the holy soldiers now at Santiago’s back. The jawless warrior pressed on, his battle cry a garbled mess as he shrugged off several more discs that would have put a lesser man down. 

Fire, the voice whispered, as the warrior towered over him.

The mag-disc launched from the Redeemer with a thwap, the disc going through the man’s brainpan, dropping him to the earth, utterly still in death.

Santiago stopped as he realized the threats that had once filled his vision were now gone and, for the moment, he still maintained the Path. Bodies lay all around him and he could hear the ragged voices of those not far from death, as they uttered prayers to their gods. He could see the Path taking him directly toward the command center before it vanished from his mind.

The headache that followed nearly brought him to his knees. 

For a few brief moments it felt as though his skull were being torn apart from the inside out and he had to brace himself against the trench wall. His vision blurred and snapped back to clarity several times before something inside him, he wasn’t entirely sure what, seemed to click. Suddenly the pain was gone and he realized that one of the men who had followed him was speaking. The anxiety and shock from his time on the Path never came as it had the two instances before. In that moment, Santiago reached for the Path of his own accord and it revealed itself to him without hesitation.

It took some Aspirats decades to find the Path and many were never able to so much as touch it but a handful of times. There was no pride in knowing this, no sense of superiority or divinity, only calm.

“Aspirant,” the axe wielding soldier said, a note of concern in his voice. “The command is compromised.”

“Let the boy be,” said another from those gathered. “We need to-”

“That boy,” the axeman said, anger painting his voice despite the lower rank shown on his uniform, “just single handedly cleared the path to the Father and kept us from dying. He has the right of command.”

The officer’s lip curled up in a snarl, but Santiago raised a hand. “Peace brothers.”

Only earlier that day he would have been anxious to lead seasoned soldiers into combat. He would have listened to their ideas and allowed them to take charge. Yet now he found no fear within him and he knew why. 

God was there.

“Your name, soldier,” Santiago said to the axeman, cutting off whatever the other soldier had been about to say.

“Simon, sir,” the axeman said, hand over his heart. 

Santiago gauged the soldiers with them, seeing the many wounded and struggling. “Select those of sound mind and body, resupply, and be ready to assault command’s position in the next minute. As for you,” Santiago said, staring up and the larger officer. “Remain with the wounded and keep any remaining hostiles off of our backs. Is that understood?”

After saluting the officer bowed his head. “Yes sir.”

The young Aspirant nodded and gathered up what he could from the fallen. Two full magazines and one partial he would save should he run out. He knelt down and said a small prayer for those who had gone to the Lord’s embrace. 

As Santiago rose and embraced the Path he turned to those who would follow. “Move out.” 

The procession to command was oddly still. The mortar rounds had stopped falling and only some scattered bits of combat could be heard. Worry was beyond Santiago as he walked the Path, yet the knowledge that they had not received any orders from the Father, Bishop, or either Crusader, put him in a precarious position. Though he had learned to walk the Path, he was still an Aspirant. With Alexi’s temporary promotion, Santiago was very much aware that he was now the highest ranking soldier should the entire command be wiped out. Doubt slowly began to creep through the calm of the Path and the minor flashes of precognition became harder to see. 

The Lord had seen him through so far, He would provide guidance should the worst befall them. As long as he remained true, Christ would be with him, Santiago assured himself.

Faith was all, and Santiago would not falter.

Only when he set his mind to this, did the Path become clear once again.

As they closed in on the position, he could hear someone cry out, accompanied by the wet snap of what Santiago could only assume to be bone. Before the command structure, a reinforced shield dome that could deter all but the worst gauss tech, was a makeshift barricade covered in dead. The soldiers here had been Pratorian’s, the elite bodyguard of all in High Command. Judging by the number of dead norsemen piled around, they had given a good account of themselves.

“Secure the perimeter around command,” Santiago told Simon. “I’ll see to the inside.”

Simon saluted and led their soldiers around the dome. Santiago said a small prayer of strength before approaching the ruptured doorway. The very hinges had been caved in, likely by some Rune-tech invented by their foe. The Iron Bear and his followers were known for implement their-

Suddenly the Path required him to move and instantly he obeyed, just as a high caliber round ricochet off of the dome where his head had been a millisecond before. Several cries rose up from wherever Simon and the rest had been and that voice in his mind, the one he wasn’t entirely sure was his own, urged him on.

“Within,” it said. “Go within and bear witness.”

Should he wait any longer, the Path showed exactly what would be left of him. Without another thought, Santiago rushed inside as sharpshooter rounds riddled the ground where he had been. Immediately coming to his feet, mag-rifle up and ready to fire, the visor in his helm automatically adjusted so he could assess the situation… and came to a complete stop. 

Tables had been overturned, damaged holographic devices caused maps to flicker in and out, while several more norsemen and Pratorian’s lay on the ground, a few writhing as death slowly claimed them. To Santiago’s left was Alexi, the Crusader’s left pauldron was torn asunder, revealing bone and tissue where the Rune round had taken him. With his good arm he still held his sword, burning bright against the faltering light within. To his right was Crusader Emery. The warrior was crouched, ready to strike but held in place by the figure on the other side of the room. 

Standing well over six feet was a man made of muscle and steel. In one hand he held Father Galvin at gunpoint while the commander lay on the ground, the side of his armor dented in. In the other the giant warrior held Bishop Titus’ head in the clutches of his augmented arm, the fingers placed so that the Bishop’s skull would be crushed in an instant should he be attacked. The fact that he faced off against two Crusaders didn’t seem to phase him in the slightest. If anything, the warrior appeared eager.

At that moment Santiago knew he was standing before the Iron Bear.

The huge northman raised an eyebrow at Santiago. “And who is this brave little killer?”

Santiago wanted to take a shot, knowing that the Path would see him through. He had even begun to gradually lower the magnetic intensity in order to attempt a ricochet shot, yet the Path gave no sight into a potential combat. It simply required him to stand. 

“Silence your foul tongue, pagan,” Emery hissed between clenched teeth.

The Iron Bear let out a genuine chuckle. “That’s not a very diplomatic way to speak during a ceasefire discussion.” Then he turned his head slightly, likely listening to the com in his ear. “Another Crusader then. Impressive, for one so young. You must have a fine fighting spirit boy, to have completed your training so young. The Runa sends his regards. Had he known what you were, I’m not sure you’d be with us now.”

Santiago wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. For the last year he had heard of the Iron Bear’s savagery on the field. While he certainly fit the figure, his calm in the face of his own demise was admirable. Even should he kill both the Father and the Bishop, either Crusader could cut him down in moments. No single man could stand before a Crusader of Christ in single combat and survive.

“I am Santiago Alwar,” he said, finding himself standing taller. “Your men are slain and you are now surrounded. Surrender your captives and you may live.”

Alexi gave Santiago a look from the corner of his eye, a mixture of pride and concern. 

“Death is but the gateway to Valhalla, boy. I only ask if they died well?” the Iron Bear said.

Santiago could almost hear the concern through the steel in the man’s voice and, though he wasn’t entirely sure he should, he gave an answer. “Each fought bravely until the end.”

The Iron Bear gave a solemn nod. “Then I will see them again when Valhalla calls me home.”

“Silence,” Emery snarled. “This honorless dog should be put down.”

“Peace, brother,” Alexi warned.

“Best listen to your friend,” The Iron Bear said. “If I kill these two, you lose one of the Holy Army’s best tactical thinkers and…” he paused, lifting the Bishop from the ground by his head, eliciting a cry as the holy man’s broken legs shifted beneath him. The Iron Bear shook his head in disappointment. “This one, though I’m not sure why you would care. As it stands, I’m content to hold my position until you lot hear my offer.”

“Your word that this madness will stop,” Alexi said, eyes fixed on the Iron Bear, “and we’ll hear you out.”

“No,” Emery snapped, taking a step forward.

“Emery,” Alexi warned.

The Iron Bear placed a boot on one of the Bishop’s broken legs, eliciting a scream while he fixed his gaze on the enraged Crusader. “I’d give my word if I thought it would be honored, but I suspect the moment I release my hold, the angry little man will make his move. So here is my offer.”

Santiago could see the hate written across Emery’s features and suspected the Iron Bear was right. The violence in the air seemed to thicken, yet the Path was content to keep Santiago in place.

“My Jarl has ordered me to hold this pass for two more days. The fact is, I suspect our forces will be more than happy to slaughter each other down to the last. Seeing that we have a standstill, I offer a challenge. Select a champion to face me in single combat. If I should be slain, my troops will withdraw and the pass is yours. If I am victorious, you will go the long way round to New Teheran and I will remain as my Jarl has ordered.”

Alexi eyed the hulking warrior and slowly lowered his sword. “Give me your word, on your honor, that you hide nothing and your intentions are true, and I will see it done.”

Emery shifted so as to keep both Alexi and the Iron Bear in his sight. “You would trust the word of this filth?”

The Iron Bear’s presence seemed to fill the room, yet he did little more than shift his weight. It was a subtle movement, a slow release of tension from his feet, like a wolf before the pounce, that turned the cordial killer into an immediate and terrifying threat. Taking in that pale eyed gaze made Santiago want to take a step back.

Stand and bear witness.

Santiago heard the Path and obeyed.

“Watch your tongue Faith-Killer,” the Iron Bear said, voice near the growl of his Namesake. “I spot the markings on your Crest and know the atrocities of your sect. I’ve seen, firsthand, the Cleanses of your people upon my Jarl’s sworn allies. To you I offer only death, for though you may not be the chosen champion of this offer, the moment I put that warrior down I will seek you out as a matter of honor.”

In the heat of the command dome, Santiago shivered. 

“The Weregild of our allies,” the Iron Bear growled, “is paid in blood.”

Alexi looked to Emery, whose sole focus was locked onto the Iron Bear, then it traveled to the Father, whose face was drawn tight as he struggled for breath. Santiago knew Alexi to be a good man, one who spent many sleepless nights at the bedside of those whose lives were left in God’s hands. Santiago had never seen him lash out in anger or become enraged with bloodlust. He was a man of simple needs and unshakable conviction, yet in that moment Santiago saw the mask of certainty fade, replaced by weary fatigue. 

“Then it shall be so,” Alexi said with obvious hesitation. “Emery, you will have your chance, but let us retrieve the Father and Bishop Titus beforehand. I’m not sure the commander has much longer without medical assistance.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Emery would refuse Alexi’s pact with the northman. Then the Iron Bear released his hold on Bishop Titus, allowing the frail old priest to fall to the ground where he lay in an exhausted heap. The Iron Bear’s sidearm remained fixed on the Father and that pale eyed gaze fixed on Emery as he spoke into his com.

“Runa, a ceasefire is in effect. Order the men to stand down.” 

Suddenly the gunshots outside died down and the world became almost too quiet in the aftermath of such wanton death and destruction.

Doesn’t sound like he’s got much longer,” the Iron Bear said, as if the man’s life mattered little.

With a snarl, Emery lowered his blade and the burning light from it vanished. “I will await you outside, pagan.”

The enraged Crusader glanced at Alexi and spat on the ground near his feet. “You’ve shown yourself to be out of place in this war, Alexi. I will see that your sect is notified of your failure to hold to the Church’s convictions. Consider this your last tour of duty.”

Santiago felt his own anger rise at that and began to say something, only to catch Alexi shake his head in disapproval. They watched Crusader Emery stalk out and though the Iron Bear remained, the tension began to ease off. A few moments after, the huge norseman lowered his side arm and holstered the machine pistol beside the crescent bladed axe hanging from a loop at his hip. Then the huge warrior did something unexpected; he knelt down beside the Father and assessed his injury. From a small pouch at his lower back the Iron Bear withdrew a small stem-set and held it up for Alexi and Santiago to see. 

“Looks like his lung is deflated. I can stick it in him if you’d like?” The Iron Bear said, looking to Alexi for permission. “Though I suspect you would feel more comfortable doing it yourself.”

Alexi and Santiago both watched the big man like they would any predator that had entered their camp. Yet the threat of the Iron Bear had diminished the moment the enemy lowered his weapons. Now, it seemed, he was simply another soldier on the front. Unlike Emery, he didn’t seem consumed by his hate or desire for revenge. The fact that he was trying to save the man he had been about to kill was a strange change of events.

Alexi walked forward and took the offered stem-set and knelt beside the Father. The Iron Bear remained on the other side, looking down at the fallen commander.

“I tried to pull the blow, but you weren’t having any of it.” The northman chuckled ruefully as he sat beside Father Galvin. “Almost had me with that hidden hand cannon you carry, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from Divine Spear.”

Alexi’s lips parted in a small smile as he assessed the Father. “That’s an old Name. Not many remember that one.”

Alexi removed the Father’s chest piece and, with a practiced hand, pressed the stem-set needle between the ribs and into the lung. There was a brief hiss as the medication was delivered, temporarily sealing what holes there were in the lung before beginning to inflate it. Alexi left the stem-set in the Father’s chest until the process was complete.

“One well earned,” the Iron Bear rumbled. “Or so I hear. My father fought beside him, back when the Church was re-establishing itself with the Cossacks. I remember my father telling me about the campaign when I was a boy. Always spoke highly of the man, said he was the first Christan to earn his respect.”

“A different age, it would seem,” Alexi said, a note of melancholy in his voice.

Santiago saw the Path guiding him forward. At first he believed it might be to help the unconscious Bishop, but he found himself near the two warriors. Alexi was a big man and in his armor he was even more impressive, but he was almost average looking when measured by the northman.

Seeing Santiago approach, the big man raised a thick brow. “Not going to bite you boy. We are not all the animals the Church paints us to be.” He paused, as if to re-assess his words. “Though I can understand why. Blessed of the Sun, did a number on your people.”

Santiago nodded. He had only been ten when the Blessed of the Sun slaughtered those living near Sao Paolo. The Tecca leader destroyed the cathedrals throughout most of what had once been South America. The sacrifices presented to their god, Huitzilopochtli, had consisted of a hundred thousand souls, most of them part of the Church when the Great City of Life was overtaken. The ziggurats of their foul gods had been painted crimson in the aftermath, their hearts burned in a great pier. Every Aspirant was required to watch vid-feeds recovered from that time and those images would remain in the dark place they had found in his memories. 

That had been the spark that ignited the rest of the world into the newest world conflict. 

A Crusade not based on acquiring the Holy Land, though it had become another target once the lines were drawn, but to remove the threat that came from those who sought to destroy the Church. 

“Can I ask you something?” Santiago asked.

The Iron Bear shrugged. “Not like I’ve got anywhere to be at the moment.”

“You claim to value honor and, by your actions, I can see you mean it. Yet, how can your people side with those who would slaughter the innocent? How can you stand with the likes of the Blessed of the Sun?”

The big warrior scratched at the stubble on his face as he thought. “The world is full of suffering, boy. Doesn’t seem to matter what ‘side’ you choose to be on. I follow wherever my Jarl directs as I am sworn to him just as he has sworn oaths to our allies. We have no place in this war, but our warriors are many and the path to Valhalla has been laid before us. We will go wherever it calls.”

“That’s not much of an answer,” Santiago said.

Even kneeling as he was, the Iron Bear had to look down at Santiago to speak. “The Blessed of the Sun is a monster, I’ll give you that. He is no ally of ours and should he fall, I think it would only benefit the world. However, his death will not stop this war. You and the Church call it a Crusade, but it’s really just an excuse. There has been too much pent up hate from past wrongs that no one will own and after all these centuries, all those past wrongs have come to the surface.” The Iron Bear’s eyes grew distant. “Valhalla Steel shouldn’t be a part of any of this, but we are bound by our oaths. That means we’ll fight until the smoke clears and the world regains its mind once more.”

“Even if that means you lose?” Santiago asked.

Distantly, he could hear voices outside of command and a medic came rushing in along with a Aug-synth that trailed just behind. The small AI was equipped with a number of life saving medical instruments that could be implemented on the battlefield at the direction of the medical staff. The medic didn’t bother to acknowledge the hulking warrior outside of a sideways glance before getting into his work. 

Allowing the man to do his job, both Crusader and the Iron Bear removed themselves from the immediate area, but the medic spoke up. “Once you’ve finished having the pagan killed, come see me Crusader. That shoulder needs some attention.”

Alexi nodded and said nothing while the Iron Bear chuckled at the prospect of his own demise. Then the northman looked back at Santiago.

“Yuri Jarlson doesn’t lose, boy.”

Rolling his neck a bit, the northman walked to the command opening he had likely created and paused as he looked down at the dead warriors that had come with him. The huge man just stood there a moment, staring at the body of a young northman little older than Santiago. Slowly his eyes came up.

“You have shown honor when others would not, Crusader.” The Iron Bear said, offering his outstretched hand to Alexi. “There are not many who would agree to such terms, especially in these bloody days. Should we ever meet on the field again, I will remember it.”

Alexi took the Iron Bear’s hand. “We are but men in the world of gods and devils. It seems fitting that we should behave as such.”

The Iron Bear’s grin returned as he broke the handshake off and walked out. Only then did Santiago turn to his mentor.

“They assaulted the trenches primarily with swords and axes sir. Reports of Valhalla Steel’s actions in this war focus on the threat of their firepower. I suspect they are, as you mentioned early today, out of ammunition.”

“And?” Alexi asked.

Santiago glanced down at the broken forms of their command then back to Alexi. “They can’t hold the pass anymore.”

The words were true and Alexi nodded. “And yet the Iron Bear risked everything to uphold his oath.” Alexi shook his head in disbelief. “There are few enough men in this world who honor their word and there is about to be one fewer. The best I can offer him is the death he desires.”

“That’s not our way,” Santiago countered.

“No,” Alexi said as he began to leave the command structure. “But it is his way. Always honor those who show themselves to be honor bound, be they enemy or ally, just as you should call out the wrongs of those fighting at your side.”

Santiago wasn’t sure how to respond, but Alexi was already leaving command so the young Aspirant followed.

It was the silence that struck Santiago first. A host of dirt and blood covered faces watched them as they walked up the trench into the open desert. The quiet intensity only seemed to grow as the Iron Bear spotted Crusader Emery and came to a stop. 

The Crusader was waiting with his sword out, blazing bright in the desert sun. “You will fall for your crimes, heathen. For the needless slaughter of countless soldiers of Christ, you shall-”

The Iron Bear pulled the crescent axe from his side and transitioned his augmented arm into a pistoned fist. “I’ll waste no more breath on you, Faith-Killer,” the Iron Bear said, cutting the Crusader off. “Come then, you’ll not be the first rabid dog I’ve put down.”

 There was a frozen moment between the two. Emery’s white knuckled grasp tightened on the hilt of his sacred blade while the Iron Bear shifted his weight and Santiago could see the intensity in the northman’s features. 

Then they came together.

Santiago watched as Emery rushed forward, easily faster than the big man, yet the Iron Bear was already in motion before the Crusader closed the gap. The axe came down as the sword rose to cut the northman’s throat. It was a smooth strike, one that had felled countless warriors on innumerable battlefields, yet rather than driving home, blazing steel met the axe causing the Runes engraved along the edge to flare to life. There was little in the world of steel and technology that could withstand a Crusader’s blade, but the Rune magic of Valhalla Steel was one of them. There was a faint look of surprise on Emery’s face as he shifted, narrowly avoiding the augmented fist that descended toward his head. Unfazed, Emery sent a series of strikes and thrusts designed to overwhelm his opponent, only to find each attack parried or avoided before countering back. 

Santiago had never seen an opponent last beyond the first engagement with a Crusader. Yet the northman seemed to anticipate every attack before it was even made. At the first sign of movement from Emery, the Iron Bear was already in action. Twice more they came together and both times Emery was pushed back.

When they finally pulled apart, Emery’s stance had changed. His guard had tightened from his previously loose stance and he stalked back and forth as he stared at his opponent.

“Is that all the Faith-Killer has to offer?” the Iron Bear asked, looking at the soldiers of Christ that surrounded him. “I suppose killing children doesn’t take quite as much effort as killing a man.”

“Heathen!” the Crusader roared, barreling forward.

“Fool,” Alexi whispered, though Santiago wasn’t sure if it was meant for the Iron Bear or Emery.

The two became one as sword, axe, and augment came together in a brutal clash. Though Santiago still walked the Path, he could not see how well Emery followed it. Yet, to Santiago, it seemed that his movements were growing too brash for the normal calm that filled most Crusaders. As he watched the two combatants, he also noticed the chips taken out of the Iron Bear’s axe as the duel dragged out. It would seem that even the Runic magic had limits. It was only a matter of time before his weapon broke.

The Iron Bear was bleeding now. Several cuts had been opened across his chest and another wide one along his thigh. Yet the Crusader bled as well. His left eye was swollen from taking the butt end of the northman’s axe. 

“Did they beg?” the Iron Bear called across the sands as he heaved a deep breath. “Did their cries do nothing to still your love of slaughter?”

Gone was the careless nature of the giant northman’s voice, replaced with a rage so deep and raw that it filled Santiago with dread.

Emery’s face contorted in agonized rage as he charged forward, the light from his sacred blade flickering as he did. The Crusader bounded forward, using the gifts God had granted him to cover the distance, yet it was his last, fatal mistake. The Iron Bear was already sidestepping as the Crusader launched himself across the desert sand and, unable to cease his momentum, could not avoid the axe that drove into his chest. The Runes on the crescent axe grew bright, followed by the shrieking of steel giving way to steel, as the Crusader fell to the ground in a heap. 

Stunned silence was all that greeted the victor.

Santiago couldn’t believe his eyes. It was said that no man could stand before a Crusader and live. And yet, they had all just witnessed the impossible. Yuri, the Iron Bear of Valhalla Steel, went to remove his axe only to find the blade had someone fused to the Crusader’s armor, black smoke billowing from the now darkened Runes engraved along it. The giant of a man stared at the weapon with what might have been a deep regret before he turned to Alexi, ignoring the many shocked and angry soldiers around him. In an instant this branch of the Holy Army could remove the Iron Bear from the face of the earth and no one would concern themselves about a few broken words.

Crusader Alexi walked out to stand between the Iron Bear and their own troops. 

“You have earned the pass. Give us a day to collect our dead and we will continue to New Teheran at first light.”

The Iron Bear nodded to the Crusader. “Oathkeeper would be a fine Name for one like you.”

Alexi did not smile at the compliment. He simply stared at the remains of his fellow Crusader and shook his head. “Farwell, Yuri Jarlson. I hope, for both our sakes, that we never cross paths again.”

Santiago wasn’t entirely sure what passed between them, but he saw them hold each other’s eyes until the northman nodded. 

“Until Valhalla,” Yuri said, turning toward the pass as he began walking.

Slowly the soldiers around them began to dissipate. Many were the hushed whispers and dark looks from those who had just undergone three days of combat only to watch victory slip from their fingers, but none spoke to Alexi. They knew where he stood and what he would do to anyone foolish enough to break the pact he had made. Even Santiago felt slighted and the Path around him slowly began to fade. It took him a moment to realize that his mind had taken him off the Path and he tried to force the negative emotion back, but failed and the Path vanished.

“Why did you let him go?” Santiago asked once they were alone with Emery’s corpse. Then another question came to mind and he knew it was the true question he had longed to ask. “How could he lose?”

It was a simple question, one that he had never thought to ask before. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, Santiago thought. As long as a Crusader followed the Path, only the most foul deceptions could defeat them.

The gauntlet covering Alexi’s hand retracted, each section of steel sliding into the suit to reveal his flesh beneath. The Crusader ran it through his hair and Santiago could see the sheer fatigue in Alexi’s eyes. 

“We are not invincible Santiago. A Crusader is only as hard to kill as the strength of his faith or if he has come to the end of his Path. Emery, it would seem, had become lost to his rage, and God showed him the way to redemption.”

Santiago didn’t want to believe it, but Alexi was an honest man if ever the young Aspirant had known one and he could not deny what he had seen. 

“I heard a voice,” Santiago began, unsure how else to proceed from here. “Once I embraced the Path. I could hear… something speak to me.”

Alexi shook his head, “You must have had your com on. It can be confusing when you first learn to walk the Path, Aspirant.”

Santiago wasn’t so certain. “Can you tell when another is on the Path?”

“Of course, b-”

Santiago embraced the Path once again and it came with ease. Alexi simply stared, the only indication of his surprise a slight tightening of the jaw. They both knew an Aspirant of Santiago’s age and level of training should not be able to access the Path. It was unheard of for one so young.

“What did the voice say?” the Crusader asked, solemnly.

“It told me to ‘stand and bear witness’,” Santiago said.

The Crusader considered Santiago’s words a moment before walking toward his fallen companion. Taking up Emery’s sword, Alexi strode back to stand before the Aspirant.

“And what did you witness?”

Santiago wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew he should speak true. So he obeyed. “I witnessed two sides of the same coin. I have seen what a Crusader is meant to be and what he can become. I saw an enemy show mercy while an ally and faithful follower of Christ longed for violence.”

Alexi nodded, revealing nothing. “What is the lesson?”

Santiago considered all he had seen and done and soon the message revealed itself to him. “We are no better than those we face. We cannot justify evil because we view ourselves as just. We are, all of us, sinners.”

Alexi turned his head to the side, as if hearing something far off. Then he knelt before Santiago, the Aspirant, and held up Emery’s sword in both hands. “I have never elevated an Aspirant. I’m not sure the Church would even agree, considering your age. And yet, I cannot help but feel the need to have more men like you in our ranks. I name you, before God and the heavenly host, a Crusader of Christ. Stand, Crusader Santiago Alwar, youngest of our number. Rise and take your place as the right hand of God.”

Santiago kissed the sword and took it, noticing the feather light weight of the templar blade and the warmth that seemed to pulse through him at a touch. Though he had longed to become a Crusader since he had been recruited at the age of ten, the thrill of the accomplishment was nowhere to be found. It was only in that moment that Santiago realized the depth of his commitment. Yet instead of fear, he could only feel at peace. As if this was exactly as God had intended.

And Santiago’s faith would never falter.