After parting with Glock Cole moved away from the combatants and when he was a safe distance decided the power of an ogre was something that needed to be demonstrated and the damage to the realm was so bad a little more made no difference. He shimmered from the top of the cliff, the explosion lighting up the sky and came out of the shimmer a few leagues from the headquarters of Glock's opponents. 

They had taken hold of the remains of a medium sized town that was strategically very sound, on a plain at the cross roads of once great highways and with a high mountains on one side and the cliffs that Glock held on the other and access to the plain through narrow passes that could be easily defended. As Glock understood however, certain strategic spots on the cliff above enabled the passes to be blocked and the remains of the city to be besieged. If they had been able to get control of the cliffs then Glock's enemies would have held all of a plain that still had some fertile pockets, moisture of sorts and needed to be crossed by half those moving through the realm.  A strategic and valuable possession in Burvjara. Only they did not hold the cliffs above.

Sure that his presence was noted and the Others would be already building their apprehension of the Ogre's presence, Cole made his way toward what was left of the city. Some way out he was attacked by a small band of combatants, he escaped by stunning them with little heed for any damage they did to him. A few more bruises were irrelevant.

He did take the time to steal the robe from the most aggressive of the combatants and for a second falling back on his demon ways was tempted to walk off with the robe and everything in its pockets. Then Cole's better nature or guardian sense of justice caught his conscience and from the pockets he pulled to his amusement a change of underwear, some dried rice like grain, a square of cloth like a handkerchief, some small sweet date like fruit, a blade like a cut throat razor, the yellow green tobacco he had seen used in trade as well as smoked,  several daggers, a flint and a plate, as well as assorted knickknacks that were the lifetime possessions of this combatant. Cole put the collection inside his backpack with the food he had brought as well as a pocket knife he found in his pants pocket then lay the backpack beside the unconscious combatant and hoped there was something the soldier could trade to replace his lost robe.

Hidden under the robe and Leo's ski mask  Cole made his way to the outskirts of what was left of the city. The place had the eerie atmosphere of deserted bomb site, most of the buildings many cycles since reduced to rubble. Behind the walls combatants and some offspring and females had settled.  They all busied themselves with a routine of life, although all had their weapons cocked and ready.

They pointed the weapons at him, but seemed to recognised something in the stolen robe as their own clan and let him pass. Some offspring played amongst the ruins, still not full grown or not having had the resources to steal a or inherit a robe, they were barely clothed in rags. Some older offspring, already robed aimed weapons and were far more suspicious than their war weary elders.

Cole made it to the centre of the city where he his sense of the Others indicated the strongest powers. The place was a large stone compound, almost central to the destroyed town

He saw females and offspring huddled around the edges of the stone, using their magic to provide some warmth, there were a few injured males who were clearly victims of war, and some older combatants but  this inner sanctum was not well guarded, maybe because the able bodied were patrolling the rims of the ruined city, Cole guessed or because the combatants and the Others felt secure with the Others' weapons.

There were no elderly anywhere in the ruins of the city that Cole could see. In this realm, males fought until they died and then the females dependent on them died and the offspring took their places.

Cole shook his head and hated when he could not  help them, and then he reminded the best he could do was somehow solve this mess, get the Others out and get it stopped.

He entered what once may have been a municipal square, presided by the remains of a once elegant tall building with 3 of its pillars still standing high amongst the ruins. It was there he was finally challenged and turned to face a combatant and 2 mortal types all armed to the teeth.

He slowly lifted his hand in the Burvjarian sign of alliance, they rarely bothered to claim friendship outside the immediate clan. The weapons the combatant and the Others carried were those of the higher realms of Good, once again not magical just powerful, sword like weapons and blast type weapons. Clearly the Others were in some danger from the use of magic in this realm too.

The combatant was inclined to trust the robe and the gesture but the Others were not so easily fooled  or maybe were suspicious of any-one in a robe because one walked straight to Cole as he stood still and stuck a large sword straight at him. He did not bother to side step as he started to drip acid blood which sizzled against the remains of the stone of the square. As the Other pulled the sword out Cole caught the hilt and knocked it so hard into the Other's jaw he passed out then he slowly brought the sword up to put at the throat of the remaining Other. The combatant hesitated still uncertain of the kinship and Cole wondered, not entirely unhappy with an Other being hurt.

Perhaps even believing one of the clan was turning on an Other and wished him well, because when Cole waved him away he raised his hand and lowered his weapon, stepping back to allow Cole to pass.

"Not a completely happy alliance" Cole mused, realising this faction of combatants had no better trust of  the Others than Glock had of the demons.

Cole removed the downed Other's weapon and holding the sword against his captive Other's side indicated he should walk.

Cole walked him through the ruins of the portico where the long, mostly ruined, entrance hall of the municipal hall was inhabited by a group of combatants, their robes torn and raggedy, veterans of great fighting, they sat leaning against walls, or casually guarding doors. They were not disciplined group of soldiers more like a group of old hands whose casualness belied their real toughness and war hardened awareness.

They watched as Cole, the weapon he took from the Other over his shoulder walked on through their ranks, while his captive resolute as the sword cut him, stepped just ahead.  Cole could feel the aura of the Other, a high level whitelighter type of warrior. The Other was wary, careful and clearly waiting his chance. Cole as they walked, could see the sneers and contempt of the combatants picked up clearly on the tension between the Other and the Combatants.

The captive Other taking his chance tried to connect telepathically with his cohorts and Cole easily picking it up shoved the sword in his side and quietly said "Don't."

The Other hissed at him "Demon."

"Nearly right" Cole told him.

The combatants watched with a curiosity as the Other and Cole walked through the long hall. There was nothing left of doors in this place, barely any walls or roof.

Cole suppressing the tension he felt walked through what signified as a leader's accommodation, something like a roof of shale over stone walls, and dirt floors and chairs and table scared, battered and put together from another day. The building had once been a large hall of several floors, now only a small section of it had survived and only one floor but Cole supposed the prospect of a room when you live under sky and magically warmed stones for heat  was as much a definition of luxury as anything.

The Other started to breath hard and just at the entrance Cole quickly brought the hilt of the sword and knocked his captive senseless.

He stood just outside the leaders room where he could see several of the combatants, dressed in the long robes, weapons slung over their shoulder eating with their fingers out of small bowls their trunk like noses curling in various expressions of wariness, distrust, and in one or two Cole could see some form of sufferance. In the room also were three Elder-types, beings in white and Gold  robes not hiding their difference to the ragged battle hardened combatants.

'"Definitely not an alliance of mutual respect and trust" Cole thought.

He had seen enough alliances, the main currency of demondom, where the allies once their need was over or one party felt aggrieved turn as vicious as any war between Burvjarian combatants. This alliance had all the makings of such an ending. If the Others had any hopes of controlling the pole through these Burvjarians  it was not going to be through mutual respect.

The Elder-types were attempting to convince clearly sceptical Burvjarian leaders that the protection of the magic pole and the control of it had to be in the hands of the righteous. The Burvjarians as the caretakers of this pole needed to be very certain that those who lead Burvjara were allied to the side of the righteous, they told the combatants and any who would ally with evil and the unrighteous were to be destroyed and driven away. Or Burvjara would be judged evil.

"Like this Glock"  an Elder-type said "who would hand the power of the pole to evil and the fate of Burvjarians as well. Trade their souls."

"I once fought with Glock" commented a combatant. "In my memory he was of opinion that the administration of the pole was the province of Burvjarians. And the sides of Good and Evil needed to respect that. There were those who would agree with him and fight with him."

"He has clearly changed his opinion" said an Elder-type dismissively, "But you are right, they still fight with him and follow him. And turn into insurgents at the strength of his words"

"Burvjara for the Burvjarians are evil words" commented a combatant sarcastically as the Elder-types frowned.

The Elder-type  faced the combatant with a patronising anger. The combatant shrugged.

 "This Glock is an accursed leader" the Elder-type said. "And as such needs to be destroyed before he destroys Burvjara and hands the pole to the demons. Which I promise you is what he will do. Those who consort with evil become their minions and lackeys. He will do as evil tells him. You should have already killed him. Why is it still here?"

"Because it is not easy to find  one damned Klikian" Cole recognised the Burvjarian name for clan leader "in a barren desert, because Glock carries  no mark . What is the word we once had?"

"Insignia "supplied another combatant. "He has not been taken because he cannot be recognised in the battle. He fights in the front with his clan, does not hide behind wearing the insignia of a leader and staying back… and he fights well."

Cole noted the respect in the combatant's voice

"This one. Glock  is , it old time Burvjarian" explained another combatant "He is not of any new order politics. He fights because he must. And his legend is great because of this. He has survived when others have not."

"Those who consort with evil fight in his name " declared an Elder-type . "I heard his name as a rallying call for those who would give the pole to evil's control. Glock need s to be hunted down to end his alliance with evil before you can win this war?  Do you understand?" he asked crossing his hands in a gesture that was clearly protective against the ragged rough hewn Burvjarians.

"Then go hunt him down and destroy him" suggested a combatant carelessly "if you can find a way to use your magic out there in the open without it destroying you."

"I can use my magic here" said the Elder-type threatening.

"Dead is dead"  said the combatant unconcerned.

"This Glock is a rallying point " a combatant agreed "Do you think this siege would have happened if Glock had not"  he shook his head "inspired the clans to believe what we have is worth having.'"

"Find a way to get rid of him " ordered an Elder-type "Because until you do you will be fighting an enemy in alliance with evil, and I tell you evil is a powerful enemy."

"One combatant more or less makes no different." said a combatant "the opposition will find another leader even if he is killed."

"Truthfully "said the combatant who had fought with Glock "they  will not find one like him."

"We do not need to hunt him " said a combatant leader  licking his lips as he finished his bowl of food which Cole presumed the Others had supplied "because I have ears in his camp. There are those who believe that Glock will not use the alliance as strategically well as they would like. We judge failed leaders harshly" he told the Elder-types "One way or another when Glock allied himself with demons he became a dead Burvjarian and there is nothing that can save him."

"I would not rely on betrayal as a weapon" said the Elder-type

"I would" said a combatant dryly "Its a weapon as old as combat" he added

"Glock's time has come" said a combatant leader dismissively "and Friend Goodfellow" he said addressing the Elder "I would not be to sure your time has not come too, and maybe even the alliance of demons."

The Elder-type eyed the combatant with an expression of suspicion and concern.

"That magic explosion was the ogres coming" another war hardened combatant explained enjoying the Elders apprehension "They are the only ones who have been able to use that magic and survive. And believe me friend Goodfellow, the Ogres come here to drive away the ungodly and drag out the wars. You know of ogres, the ones who come to drive out all the Others be they demonic, whitelighter, good, evil. The Ogres come to prove this place is ungodly to those outside." His trunk nose twitched "and let us get on with killing each other without your assistance."

"The magic used in that  explosion was demonic,  and it came from where the demons hold the high ground with Glock. And it was a powerful demon, more powerful than any Other there. The Ogres are a legend" said the Elder-type contemptuously "No great creature of magic, unless totally evil ,would even consider that our role here is anything but just and right. We are here to fight evil" he said. "We are here to protect the pole for the side of Good" the Elder  type stopped and thought about it. The combatants and Cole waited "We are also here to protect and show the Burvjarians the path to Good" the Elder-type added as an after thought.

"The demons are as fearful of using their magic here as you are Goodfellows. Because it destroys them as well as you"  a combatant told the Elder-types, '"And the one who uses such great magic as we have seen has no fear to use its magic. Only the Ogres who have come have no fear of their magic. So I would start to worry about the Ogres "he added wiping the last of his food from his bowl just for the moment enjoying the unusual satisfaction of being replete.

"I will worry about Ogres when I see one" said the Elder-type.

"I would start worrying Friend" Cole answered stepping into the room.

The combatants war-ready as ever in swift movement, turned weapons on Cole, alert to danger. The Elder-types just stared at Cole's robed figure as if one of the combatants had gone mad until a combatant fired a weapon at Cole and although it passed through him leaving a bloody acid trail, Cole  just stood there, hidden behind the ski mask and the hood of the borrowed robe, and shrugged.

At the sound of the weapon other combatants arrived at the gap, it was no longer a door way and discovered the Other who Cole had knocked unconscious coming to his feet.

They stopped, weapons ready as Cole moved across the room, several Others more warrior than elder appeared behind the combatants and forced there way to the front .

Without hesitation they attacked with swords but it took Cole very little to avoid the thrust, sustaining only a cut and he simply pulled himself up behind an Elder-type and caught him around the neck.

"You can't kill me demon" said the Elder-type.

"I can actually'" Cole told him "Or separate your spirit to limbo or I can suck your aura out and not have to use any power to do it" Cole told him calmly  "so before this ends up a farce about  who can do the most damage to each other, just trust me. I can", he twisting on the Elder's neck so he gasped in pain. "So the way it works is  your Burvjarian friends withdraw. Go do what they can to organise a rescue or leave you to your fate or whatever they feel is worthy of your alliance."

The Elder-type gasped but held his ground.

"It always leads me to some curious thoughts, how leaders react when faced with direct confrontation" Cole mused  still hanging on to the Elder-type writhing "Do they beg and plead, or cry or show some guts when its their eternity on the line."

The Burvjarians watched the scene with a curious detachment but kept their weapon cocked. Warriors they recognised another.

"The Ogres have come. It is time to cut our losses" commented one of the combatant leaders. "And let the losers face their wrath" he added with a maliciousness that could only exist between allies in an unequal alliance.

Cole recognised that he had stumbled on the end of the alliance, and disillusionment with the side of Good was just about to thrust the combatants into a confrontation that may push Good into taking decisive steps to control the pole. He mused to himself the timing of the messages that came to him on the spirit winds.

"These Others are gone "he told the Burvjarians. "All the Others are gone.'

"Until they return" commented another of the combatant  leaders. "Unless you chose to kill them, Ogre" he added.

"They will choose what I do by their response " Cole said still twisting at the Elder-types neck.

The combatant leader after a small hesitation fatalistically chose to withdraw. He signalled his companions and they almost  smiling wiped their bowls, gathered up the remaining food and tucked it in the pockets of their robes. They picked up their weapons, and slung them over their shoulders and moved toward the entry where more combatants hovered awaiting orders. They parted to allow the leaders to leave, and then turned away, some stopping to come back and remove any weapons the Others still held.

Two Others tried to attack Cole. He released the Elder-type and easily sent them flying as the clattering noise of combatants hobnail boots on stone, indicated they were leaving the municipal complex.

"Betrayal is as old a weapon as combat "Cole informed the Others, as he casually leant back against the wall in the room. "And its damned impossible to fight a war when the soldiers won't fight." He smiled and then frowned as he remembered it was Therold who said this.

The Others' expressions showed their anger, their uncertainty and their confusion.

"Its like this" Cole told them "the Ogre has come and you withdraw."

"You hardly look like a n ogre" snarled an Other "I do not see you as a wrathful creature of power, you look like one of the Burvjarian .." he stopped biting the word back..

"Burvjarian scum " Cole finished for him. "Thank you but I'm not wrathful yet. You're just annoying the shit out me being here and I want you gone."

"You hide behind that mask" said the Other scornfully. "Are you frightened to show us your demon face?"

"Seeing my face is something that would do none of us any good." Cole told them " And change nothing. I have come to tell you to leave. This is not the place to escalate wars or claim good intentions." He watched the messengers of Good trying to find something other than scorn ":I am here to tell you a creature of great magic finds your presence here anything but just and right."

An Elder-type tried to interrupt and Cole put his hand up stopping him "Tell your masters, the realm is not theirs and if they really want to protect the magic here find a  way to help Burvjarians that does not involve you controlling the pole. Accept their right to administer their realm."

"Demon you want to control the magic, like all  your kind, " accuse the Elder-type

'"Truthfully I do not " Cole said "I want to stop you keeping these people at each others damn throats, because you are frightened the peace will put the wrong leader in charge."

Cole met their expressions "Go or you will never leave" Cole told them.

"Your magic here will erupt and destroy everything and every-one  a hundred steps" said the Elder-type.,

"Much more than a hundred steps " Cole answered calmly. "But it won't kill me."

"It will kill every Burvjarian  in the area " said one of the Others.

Cole shrugged "They take their chances when they choose their allies," he said.

The Others, warriors and Elder-types met his eyes, all they could see behind the mask and hood

"I know it’s a damnable decision" said Cole unable to keep the mockery out of his voice. "and that is your choice and up to your conscience. Are you good?  Is the price of your staying to control something you don't own going to be the life every Combatant with in the circle of my power. You are right" he told them. "It will take strong magic to kill you."

Cole watched and it was relief he touched their auras and found the confusion on the Others faces was about whether he was bluffing, not any disregard for Burvjarians who would die. Good, whatever he thought of their actions was acting in the belief it was good.

They played a silent game of bluff, Cole leaning back against the wall, using the same arseholdeness that he used to deal with banks, insurance companies, errant landlords, bureaucrats and ADA's in his lawyer world. It  served him well, as did the knowledge that in the end he was not bluffing..

He  refused to be intimidated and even in a ragged Burvjarian robe and the ski mask he held his ground, silently letting them ponder the consequences of the battle with him. It crossed his mind that when he was the Source, or the Source had taken him over there was a time when confronting  a room full of angry demons who threatened his role, the Source using what there was left of him was not able to hold them, and bend them to his will. Something, somewhere, somehow had changed. The Others threatened him and he smiled quietly.

"It's not a choice." he told them, "Its an order."

One of the Elder-types hesitated then said "I have heard of the role of Ogres" he said "to hold us to account, to justify actions."

"Amongst other things" said Cole, thinking of the business of his Brother guardians.

"If we go, with demons up there." The Elder-type continued "we desert those we claim to help and leave them to the enemy's mercy. And I believe that to be slight."

Cole half bowed, "Damn I hate it when one of you turns out to be as Good as you are supposed to be. For what its worth trust me. I am not here to grant victory."

The Elder-type nodded and his companions resentfully indicated their agreement. .

"Although I would respect it more, if your concern for your allies was less in the abstract, and more …personal." Cole mused.

The Others resentfully ignored the comment.

They all waited silently, the representatives of Good resentful and Cole at ease, for what seemed an eon, when Cole could finally sense the safe removal of all Burvjarians from the immediate area.

"Now I can kill you without destroying the innocents" he told .the Elder-types. Behind the mask he was smiling and took a demonic delight in their recognition that there own natures could cost them

"You think this end of it  Ogre" said an Elder-type determined to die bravely.

"I have no such illusion" Cole told them "It ends this chapter . But " he added "As you know how my Brothers and I work, you know that we will hold you to account for your actions. Think wisely before you take them'' Cole suggested. "Because my calling is justice and  by god I promise you I to will be back , and wrathful, should there be a message of an injustice on the winds."

"Go" he ordered them, and was amused by the expressions of disbelief that he was going to allow them to leave. One Elder-Type finally took the initiative to leave and the Others followed him. Cole waited as they orbed or dematerialized and the area around him exploded with the force of the power. He shimmered as soon as the last of them  went and only just left as the remains of the building crashed to the  ground.

He shimmered as close as he dared to the combatants on the cliff tops as the air exploded in fire. All those in the immediate area of his realm would be well aware of  the presence of magic. Cole looked back over the cliff and he could still see the explosions as the last of the Others left. He did not miss that several of the explosions were from behind Glock's lines on top of the cliff. The siege was about to become bloodier if he had not intervened as Others found a way to attack from the rear.

When the fires from his magic settled Cole could see combatants and demons, many who had come close as they dared to the magic and moved closer in a threatening mass as the burning air subsided . Quite a distance away Cole could see Glock standing alone  very close to the edge of the cliff top, an isolated figure.  Further along the cliffs other combatants stood still holding position or watching the explosions from below, apparently choosing to maintain the siege until  Glock or some-one ended it.

Disregarding those who remained under Glock's control, Cole faced those who came upon him. He strode to them covering the ground in barely a few breaths and stood confronting a hostile army. He held up his hand, a tall raggedy figure in his stolen robe and  he threw back the hood this time ripping the mask off so that he shared nothing with the faceless masters of the  demons.

"Step away "he ordered the combatants, "Retreat."

The combatants with the demons had made their choices. They had their weapons cocked and ready and they held their ground watching him warily.

A demon rushed him, and Cole slammed the sword he had taken from the Other into him and he blew up in a spray of dark ash that made the atmosphere shake but the magic was weak and nothing worse happened.

"Go" he ordered the demons  who had merged into a pack together ready to take on the warrior guardian rather than surrender.

Cole raised his hand high, twisting his finger to call his magic "Go "he ordered the demons "and tell your masters that you left because the Ogres came.  Tell your masters, the realm is not theirs, and should they try to make it theirs they will face my wrath.

"I see no ogre "snarled a demon. "I see a ragged soldier."

"Look harder" Cole told him.

"Use your magic and it will kill these ones" said the nearest thing to a demon leader, indicating the combatants who still remained with their demon allies.

"They made their choices when they chose their allies" Cole shrugged "You are out of time" he said.

Several combatants understanding what was about to happen backed away, and Cole took a deep breath realising as they had made a choice, he had to honour it and give them time to go. 

The demons misunderstood his hesitation as a weakness. They attacked  him and he swung the sword and decapitated the nearest demon and then went in for the fight watching for the retreating Burvjarians.  Several other combatants  apparently decided they were with their allies and joined in the fight. Cole killed two in close combatant  and took on more demons with the sword, swinging it in  a circle to take as many of those who fought him as he could.

Some of the demons, true to their nature  decide to remove themselves from the fight when the victory was not easy and they dematerialised in a weak flame that still lit the atmosphere and sent any combatants near them to their deaths as the atmosphere burnt. A few more combatants retreated choosing survival; above any loyalty to a lost alliance. The anger at the destruction of the alliance that they hoped, would win them something from their enemy below was evident in every angry stride. and a few were killed during the retreat by demons who took the broken alliance badly.

Cole kept the battle going until he thought  those who planned to retreat were safe. He swung the sword, moving with a deft and lethal agility to attack the demons and avoid their weapons. He used his physical strength, and the sureness of the weapon to destroy those who attacked, enjoying a certain freedom and relief at being able to resort to action when of late he had had to limit himself to wisdom and words and lawyer tricks.

Finally ever so slowly and reluctantly the combatants who chose retreat were at a safe distance. Cole stopped fighting narrowly avoiding two slashing demon swords. He  lifted his hand .

He roared "Be gone "

Some of the demons seeing this and recognising from the fight that the Cole really was the Ogre of legend and the Ogre was invincible, flicked and flamed away, killing a few of their remaining allied combatants as they went.

Cole waited long enough, he gave the choice to the remaining combatants to go, but the blood lust was up and the will to fight, the need to fight had overtaken them as it had some of the remaining demons, and retreat was not a choice. They approached him and he twisted his fingers and the atmosphere lit up in a huge lightning ball, that swung around catching demons and combatants within range and swirling them and demons into a screaming cloud, where the demons disintegrated into ash which finally settled over  the charred remains of combatants.

Cole, the robe he wore  still flaming walked out of the fire, the orange and red light of the flame reflecting his aura, so he appeared to those combatants watching larger, more powerful. Wrathful justice incarnate.

The combatants who had left the demons fell away as he walked through them, some in awe, some in anger, some half inclined to lift their weapons. He heard the mutterings and the noise and felt the antipathy  and anger and fear. Cole knew well that around warming stones in cycles to come, combatants would tell stories of Ogres and battles and claims of injustice.

Cole walked toward Glock standing still on the edge of he cliff. Glock  turned as if he had been looking over the cliff, watching what happened below and not the fight.

"I knew my alliance would end badly" Glock told Cole.

"Yet you chose to make it "Cole said, tension in his voice.

"Many have not survived"  Glock said taking the responsibility.

"They made their choice" Cole told Glock, flicking his eyes toward those combatants further along the cliff, who had chosen to leave the demons to the Ogre and hold their position. Many of the other combatants those who had retreated from the fight when it became clear the demons would lose, eyed him, with something like hatred and as much of that hatred was directed at Glock as Cole.

"As usual I wished you could have arrived a little earlier" Glock told him evenly "I was having disputes about attacking down below."

"The Others have gone  from there" Cole told him."

"I saw the magic explode as they left " Glock told him "as did my compatriots  and allies." He glanced over his shoulder at the angry warriors milling "They tasted victory, anticipated the feast and instead have been left hungry."

"You did what was right and I thank you" Cole told him.

"As you said I knew the price when I chose my allies" Glock answered and moved to face his angry compatriots.

There were some who stood back maybe even appreciating that Glock had held the siege and held the Others. He had taken control using what rules they had, and  some understood the hollowness of a victory that was necessary but left them no better off and had a great cost.

Cole stood watching while Glock reasoned with those who followed him and managed to calm most, using words that to Cole made little sense but seemed to find some core in his followers, who with the fatalism of their race finally turned away, slinging weapons on their shoulders and preparing to retreat. However, a small group stood to one side, some still clutching appropriated demon weapons, their anger inflamed by the acceptance of the rest.

Glock finally came back to Cole "You need to go" he said bluntly. "The Others have gone .. for now and nothing is fixed but you look like an Other to some and appear to have won a victory at the expense of our allies and they will not understand you fight a different battle."

"I am gone" Cole "said hearing the spirit winds, "as soon as I am at a  safe distance to use my magic."

"Good" said  Glock.

"What happens to you now?" Cole asked.

"We will fall back" Glock looked toward the charred smouldering area where Cole had fought. "Retreat, pile our dead into a pyre and those of us who survive will fight another day."

"This is perhaps not such a bad thing" Cole answered  He glanced to the angry group facing of combatants milling nearer and nearer to them, only fear of the Ogre keeping them at bay. "Glock I fear they will be unconvinced" he said. He put his hand on Glock's shoulder. "Betrayal is a weapon as old as war."

"I know" said Glock "I used it well this time."

"You have enemies" Cole told him "Enemies, who want you gone, the Others see you as a threat. "

"Its our way "Glock answered wryly "we fight and make the best choices we can but some are always left .. resentful and thereafter we have a new enemy. It is our way" he said sadly. '"For those of us who survive" he added

"I will go " Cole said "Our paths may cross" he added "when I return. This has not ended."

Glock looked at the angry band, weapons half cocked, as the combatants glared at him and Cole "I would not look for me" he said with the fatalism of his race "we all fight our last battle. Mine. I believe I have won mine." he added

Cole nodded and turned away to go, then something made him turn back. He held out his hand which Glock took. "I would like to believe you have not fought your last battle." Cole told Glock, his expression bitter.

"I am tired of fighting, I am tired of war" Glock replied his orange trunk like nose twitching  "I would like to believe I have."

"I have valued our friendship "Cole said hanging onto Glock's hand an instant longer than he had to. Instinct then made him look around as one of the angry combatants, finally provoked at the sight of the friendship, fired one of the demon tornado weapons straight at him… and Glock. Cole his hand still locked on Glock's arm put his free hand up and pushed the lethal power back at the combatants and the whole area  exploded with his magic. 

However the force of the tornado wind sent by the weapon swept both Cole and Glock backward . Cole could resist but Glock was pushed over the edge of the high cliff, and Col rather than let go, went with him

Glock, fatalistic to the last, tried to pull free as they both fell when Cole made his decision. One based on friendship respect and frustration. The winds were calling him and he was far enough down the cliff to use magic safely and to let go Glock would have betrayed a friendship.

He shimmered.

....................................................................