Chapter 83: 82. Buck and Doe, Sheep and Ram

Twenty-seven warships of various sizes zig-zagged at us, each one shrugging off the volleys of magic thrown their way. They had obviously learned from their battles with Captain Gelarin, for now they didn’t even pretend to strike at us from range, and I could see their rams glowing ominously beneath the waves. Armed men ready to jump out and aboard our ships waited just inside, I knew, and I felt a dreadful fear worm itself into my heart.

 

Admiral Randin didn’t let the surprise shock him into uselessness, however, and no sooner had he seen the approaching ships than he had devised a set of orders for the fleet. 

 

“Don’t let them get a good ram!” He cried. “Keep north! Come together! Have the third leave those boarded lest they court death themselves!”

 

As the rest of our ships still lingered dozens of metres away from ours, I knew his yelling wasn’t worth much. Still, the sea continued to pulse and glow and soon enough the other ships in the fleet, those that weren’t fighting off boarding parties that is, were lumbering towards a point to the north. Our great warships weren’t faster than the Ostiper trade vessels, but Randin obviously had the idea that our thicker hulls would serve us better if all the ships were together and the naval battle was turned instead to a floating land one.

 

Andril and I gripped the railing with worry as we watched, but there was little to do but wait. Our ships, now that we were aware of the shield strength, had quickly adapted to having the entire fleet fire at the same ship, but the coordination of which one was depressingly slow. Especially as the Ostiper ships frequently tacked and weaved to avoid both firebolts and the full force of the wind. Worse than that, whatever ship we targeted would often just slip back whenever it began to catch too much flak.

 

Nor were the three vessels we abandoned having a good time of it either. By the time the rest of the fleet had gotten halfway to the rally point, one of the three was waving the royal flag while another of them slowly sank. Fighting seemed to be fierce aboard the third, but I couldn’t see that going on for too much longer. Indeed, the Admiral and Andril seemed to assume them already lost.

 

“It doesn’t feel right to just abandon them.” I muttered to Gideon as I watched the ships get closer behind. “Those were our men, after all.”

 

Not much choice in the matter. Gideon said stiffly.

 

“Still…”

 

I trailed off as one of the ships behind us suddenly gained speed and split from the pack. Amazingly, the sails seemed to fill up against the wind as if they had men standing behind pushing it in.

 

Magic? Was it possible to produce a wind with thaumaturgy?

 

I shook my head. That was a stupid question. Of course you could, somehow. The better question is why everyone wasn’t doing it.

 

“Pitch it all, they’re high-rowing.” Andril cursed upon following my gaze. “Damned fools should know how taxing that is. They must’ve seen an opportunity.”

 

Us, most likely. Gideon thought. They would’ve isolated the command ship by now.

 

“Us? What do you… [fuck].” Turning to our sides, I could see that the rest of our fleet had out-paced us in their haste, leaving us a good few hull-lengths behind them. 

 

The signal ship we were on was by far the most well armoured of the Minuan vessels, but that came with a significant penalty to its speed, and now that disadvantage was becoming obvious.

 

“Why aren’t the other ships slowing down?” I asked. “We can’t just let them ram us! What if they just get inside the shield and blow a hole under the waterline?”

 

I still wondered why any of the three ships that had been caught already still floated. Surely something like that was possible, right? Was it the expense of the ship that stayed their spells? The sheer barbarity of letting an entire crew drown in the icy waters?”

 

Andril only ‘hmphed’, however, while Randin barked more orders behind him.

 

“They’d need a good portion of the crew on deck to punch through the hull. And at least half a minute of coordination once they made contact.” Andril explained. “That’s way more than enough time to throw up personal wards over the side or to simply kill enough of them. Maybe with enough numbers that you can tie up the enemy crew such a thing would be possible… but then again with that kind of advantage you could simply blow them away without getting close. Normally, at least.”

 

“I don’t think we live in normal times.” I said nervously. “But that doesn’t answer the more important question I had.”

 

“Then ask one question at a time.” Andril sighed. “And to answer the harder- we’d be a hypocrite if we did that. Imagine how it would look to ask our ships to abandon three of their fellows while sacrificing all to help us? How would that look?”

 

“A hypo… Andril, if you and the Admiral die, this is all over. [Fuck] caring about that, you need to make sure you live.” I shook my head. “Are you stupid? Have you burned your own brain cells? What kind of sense does that even make?”

 

What kind of moronic sense of honour did this guy have? And the admiral too! He had control of the fleet! Surely he wasn’t going to kill us all for no reason, would he?

 

Randin offered me a small smile when I caught his eye.

 

“If we have them all slow down we won’t all make it to the rest of the fleet. They’re only high-rowing the one ship, and I’m fairly confident we’ll be able to take them on if we aren’t slowed” He nodded towards me. “And we have a secret weapon.”

 

“Uh-huh. And why don’t we just ‘high-row’ as well?” I asked. “Surely we can do the same? Maybe even have the entire fleet use it to get back to Minua?”

 

Confusion flashed over his face.

 

“Minua…? This battle isn’t lost, Miss. And I’m going to need my men of sound mind if this is going to turn into boarding actions. Whatever group of men is casting that over there is casting themselves silly right now, and I mean the dangerous kind. If they don’t have the entire crew doing it, they might be out of it for the next few days, a week even. And as they’re obviously pushing it hard to catch up, I can assure you someone is getting mana-poisoning on that ship.”

 

I blinked in surprise.

 

“Wait, it’s that intensive? To blow wind into a sail?”

 

Andril snorted.

 

“We’re not wind mages, Saphry, not yet.” 

 

“Yet…?”

 

“The amount of force needed to move a warship is no small amount.” He continued. “And though I’m not educated on how the spell does it, the efficiency isn’t high. We’re lucky it exists and is usable at all. Or rather unlucky, I suppose.”

 

“Rather unlucky indeed.” I muttered.

 

I flexed my wand arm as it approached, trying to decide if I could just destroy it wholesale or not.

 

The biggest advantage was that my spells most likely just went straight through the ship’s shield. I hadn’t been able to test that too much since we’d left, but from what I knew a lot would. Whether that included the one or two spells efficient enough to blow a ship? That would be a huge gamble. I could probe it with some lighter versions of the spell, of course, but if I did that than it was likely the enemy mage’s would throw up every different variety of counterspell in existence for the casts after that. And a spell powerful enough to completely disable a ship of this size would definitely bankrupt my mana reserves. I’d need a few soldiers to suck the drunkenness off of me, and mastery of such a spell was unfortunately quite rare even among soldiers. Even with Andril gathering everything he could spare from the army, we only had a dozen or so to share between me and the prince.

 

“Can you have one of the soldiers stand by me?” I asked.

 

“Do you even have a spell powerful enough for that?” Andril asked. “Amelia said you advanced quickly, but quickly enough for anti-ship thaumaturgy?”

 

“That’s a solid maybe.” I said truthfully. “How strong is the hull compared to normal wood?”

 

“Ships are normally made of ironwood. Though I’d say it’s a bit stronger than its namesake.”

 

I baulked.

 

“Iron! You’re exaggerating, right?” 

 

There was absolutely no way that was true, and if it was I was much more pessimistic about my chances here. Amelia hadn’t allowed me much time to test my limits, but while I was sure I could smash apart planks and masts, something as strong as iron was something entirely different.

 

Andril simply pointed his sword at the deck and thrust it down with all his might. It caught fire as he did so, and I thought that the deck would split for sure.

 

Instead, it slipped off.

 

“[Christ].”

 

“Each and every soldier can summon lances of blue fire and cleaving winds.” The prince explained. “A warship would be but floating kindling if it couldn’t take a beating.”

 

“I thought you relied on the shield?”

 

“Only a fool puts a single wall between himself and oblivion.”

 

“Noted.” I said. “So I’m useless then.”

 

“At splitting apart ships by yourself? Maybe. But there are many more ways to win a battle other than sinking a ship.” 

 

I just nodded and stepped aside to wait as they approached.

 

Randin didn’t ask the other ships to slow down to help, but instead prepared all the soldiers along the railing for once it got close. Since we were going the same direction, the Ostiper vessel didn’t have enough speed on us to deliver an effective ram, so it came parallel to us first before angling towards us for boarding. 

 

Every soldier, myself and Andril included, crouched behind the railing with our spear staves aimed as they approached. From this close I could see clearly the bustling mass of similarly covering men on their ship, as well as the makeshift bridges they had obviously crafted in anticipation for this battle. The same look of gritted resolve as our own soldiers played across their eyes, and many of them pulled shield masks over their eyes as the distance decreased, leaving only their short hair and determined frowns in place. None of them looked particularly drunk to me, though if Randin was right I’d imagine they’d would’ve been taken into the ship by this point.

 

They were armed similarly to the Minuan troops, with spear-staves and winter cloaks over simple coats and fur gauntlets. In fact, they looked almost identical to our own soldier’s equipment, save only for the small heraldic banners some of them had at the end of their spears and the yellow and black colouring of their cloaks. The veroline soldier did not march in a ‘uniform’, per say, though due to the way the local weaver manufactories and the supply chain worked it might appear sometimes that they did. It was only the special masks and whatever flair the local lord desired that made it possible to tell units apart, and nowhere was it more evident than now.

 

“They’re the same kind of people as we are, aren’t they.” I realised.

 

Andril broke into chuckles, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“What?” 

 

“Did you expect something else?” He asked “That we would be fighting demons and snowmen? Verol is not quite that lost yet.”

 

“I expected wild magicians, or maybe treacherous senators.” I said, only half jokingly. “A bunch of average jobbers didn’t quite come to mind.”

 

Well, to call trained magicians who could shoot huge plumes of fire across almost a kilometre of lake ‘average jobbers’ might be a bit of a stretch, but they really didn’t have the eyes of oathbreakers, spies, and assassins. Though I suppose it was a bit debatable if such things could be seen in one’s eyes.

 

We fell silent as they inched closer, and the beating in my heart accelerated to the point where I could’ve sworn Andril could hear it. No one else talked or moved, and only the gentle slapping of waves and cries of distant combat moved through the air. This would be a real battle, and it would be nothing like the pseudo-clean artillery barrages of the past half-hour. I tried to steel myself for the coming cries, knowing full well that someone burning alive was not a quiet affair.

 

And then, their ship slipped into our shield. It was subtle, just the slightest flickering like a curtain of glass had passed over them. If I hadn’t been watching for it, I doubt I would’ve even seen it.

 

“King and country!” A soldier on their side cried. “Ash and bone to the traitor prince!”

 

“For the Star! For Verol!” One of ours cried in return

 

The lake mist evaporated between the ships as hundreds of firebolts shot between the ships. Plumes of fire, exploding orange orbs, and small short spears of liquid heat came between us like thousands of [roman candles], only to impact uselessly against shields or char the planks of the hull. I instinctively ducked for the first volley, my heart pounding as four ‘sinio’ spells flew towards me. The first three went overhead and far out into the lake, but the second drilled into the railing wall with a sharp crack.

 

[Christ]! What had I done to make four of them look at the only girl on the ship and think ‘oh yeah lets [fucking] obliterate that’? My hair was long enough to make it obvious I wasn’t a normal soldier, after all! Or were they aiming for Andril and the Admiral? Ostipers couldn’t be that poor of a shot, could they?

 

A sudden roar of rushing heat turned my head, and I could see that the prince was not cowering below the railing like the rest of us. Instead, his stave tip moved like wildfire as he cast, and shields and gusts of wind rose up to scatter the huge volume of spells launched towards him. And it truly was an impressive amount of flak he garnered there, with at least ten of their mages seemingly dedicated to sniping the lordling. He was too preoccupied with his defence to attack back, of course, but I could help but be impressed at how much force he negated by just existing here on the bow. Even accounting for the soldier crouching close by who continually syphoned his mana feedback, he was astounding.

 

Has Andril always been this skilled? It could only remind me of the phoenix knight Fredrick and I had faced on the cliffs between the capital and Minua. Could it be that the prince could match one in battle? Was that the power of a noble given magic?

 

“Cast them out!” Andril bellowed. “Let not one traitor on this ship!”

 

I tried to calm myself to no avail for a few more seconds, feeling only but a little of Andril’s passion seep into my bones. Cries beseeching the Star, the King, and the Country called out on both sides of the firefight, each and every soldier calling out to the same sources to bolster their will, each and every soldier willing to kill the other for the very same beliefs and ideals as the other.

 

Ryder, they’re approaching. Gideon thought fervently. You need to help.

 

I looked around, but found that the drake had abandoned me for the skies. He hadn’t hesitated at all before joining the fight, and a light shame flickered and died within me.

 

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How was I supposed to stick my head out knowing that there were a hundred mages waiting to shoot it off? Absolute madness, really…

 

But madness would have to do.

 

I gripped my stave and jumped to my feet beside the prince, a spell already glowing at the tip. Their ship was close now, only a half dozen metres from our hull, and they seemed to be fingering swords, spears, and axes between casts. 

 

One of the closest switched his target from the prince to me, his surprise at seeing a girl as quickly killed as it arrived.

 

“Mitio!” I cried.

 

A spear of ice shot out from my speartip towards the man, racing like a strange blue and white thunderbolt amidst the sea of red and orange. His eyes widened in surprise and the counterspell died on his lips at the sight of it, allowing it to strike him without interception.

 

My jubilation was short lived, however, for the spear simply cracked and broke against his shield, a faint white shimmer the only report that anything had happened at all. I quickly fell back below the railing as the return spells targeted me. After a second, Andril crouched down as well.

 

“The personal shields are stronger.” He said quickly. “Ship ones are much more efficient, but proper war masks can take two or three good spells too.”

 

I jerked my head in the facsimile of a nod, not in the mood for an extended conversation. The burning questions of ‘How the hell did this particular increase in magical technology go unnoticed for so long?’ and ‘Why do you morons not test your equipment?’ were to be answered another day.

 

“I’ll defend, you attack.” He met my eyes, and I could see another fire inside. “Ready?”

 

I nodded again, and as a unit we rose.

 

Trusting the prince, I ignored the wall of flame that met us and focused on my spells. Back on [Earth], I normally tried to avoid putting myself in a fixed position like this in order to keep moving and get around my opponent’s more static way of thinking, but with so many enemy casters such a feat was functionally impossible right now. Instead, I tried to pick the largest and flashiest ones I could remember, relying on my biggest advantage: the enemy didn’t know what I could do.

 

“Cipit! Nia!”

 

A deluge of almost fifty small glowing shards froze in the air above me and whistled away in an arc, each one glowing like a miniature flare. They made a horribly screeching noise as they sailed through the air, and the closest soldiers shied away in fear. Unable to be aimed, most of them shattered uselessly against the personal shield of the soldiers, but many still went where I’d wanted: right into the deck underneath their feet where they burst into circles of ice.

 

Then, the second spell took effect. Soldiers found that the frozen sections were not just slippery like ice, but had almost no friction at all, certainly not as the small clumps of frost would imply. Seven of them went tumbling to the ground, one of them even managing to bowl into three others on the descent.

 

I blinked as a firebolt from a different part of the ship disappeared only inches from my face, and I wheeled around to find a different group glaring at me. Behind them, I could see the ornate mask of a magicless noble standing amongst them barking orders and pointing towards me.

 

I forced a small grin despite the cries around me. It was awfully nice of him to make my next target clear.

 

Whipping my spear around my head in a circle, I called another spell to mind.

 

“Scio!”

 

I swept my spear across their deck in a final twirl, a spray of freezing water shooting out in an arc. It splattered through the hasty counterspells and over the shields of the nearest ten men, quickly freezing into an opaque layer on the top of their shields.

 

“Mitio! Mitio! Mitio!”

 

While the magicians fumbled with spells to melt away the distracting ice, another three ice spears shot out towards a noble. He ducked down after the first spear hit his shield, clearly knowing he was being targeted, but the other two I’d aimed lower. The second one struck dead on and bounced off his shield, and the third finally broke through and drove right into his abdomen. His mask cracked straight down the middle to reveal a middle aged man with a grey beard, but he made no noise as he tumbled to the ground. In only one more moment, his guard had recovered enough to drag him from view, but from the way Andril nodded approvingly I was sure that was still a victory.

 

Cries of ‘Snow Witch!’ went up around their ship, but they were barely audible over the wind of casting and cries of pain. Those that did notice me seemed to look unsure and fearful, but either the chaos of the exchange kept enough of them from seeing or their determination to follow their orders stayed their course. I’d probably need to use a bigger cast if I wanted to announce my presence and properly cow them.

 

Before I could plan that, though, they finally sailed close enough for their liking. Four thick bridges of fireproof lumber clattered against our decks while others on their side threw hooks to drag our ships closer. Cries of ‘For the King!’, ‘Balefron’s blades!’ and countless others broke the air as they thundered across with sword and spear. Our side drew close together and tried to hold them at spearpoint as nobles called for cohesion, while yet others stayed to the sides to throw up counterspells against the few enemies who had stayed back to throw casts. 

 

The lines clashed carefully, thrusting and stabbed at each other’s lines from as far as they could. The only exception was from one of the closer bridges, where some enemies wielding great two handed swords had moved to the front and began hacking at the spear tips. These seemed to have more small enchantments on their clothing than the others, and I couldn’t help but be impressed as I watched a spear point glance off a cloak like it were steel.

 

I hesitated back and watched for a minute, not sure how I fit in with a fight like this.

 

Should I stay back and try to cast something? Jump in and help the lines? Throw rocks? This situation hadn’t been covered in my preparation for the battle. Nobody had thought it possible that ships could even get close enough to board each other, and they were clearly a little more experienced at the manoeuvre than we were.

 

I frowned as I counted.

 

Not nearly as many as I would’ve hoped had died in the skirmish on the run up, perhaps only fifteen on their side. In fact, they’d even come ahead on the trade! More than twenty lay dead or wounded on our side, including several burned corpses I don’t think I could stand to more than glance at. They must’ve been better prepared to focus down targets to break shields than we were, probably a result of Captain Gelarin’s numerous reported raids on their ships. 

 

“Gelarin’s been training them this whole time.” I growled. 

 

Andril simply nodded, his face somehow still calm. He continued to shield attacks thrown towards us with effort.

 

“Take that down.” 

 

Following his gaze to the one bridge that had set up behind us, I took a half second to raise my stave and pick a spell. The bridges were made of thick wood of the same type as their hull, which meant it was both tough, fireproof, and somewhat magic resistant. But there were other ways to disable something than destroying it.

 

“Mitio. Nia.”

 

Some of the defenders on the other side saw my interest, and multiple counterspells appeared before the bridge before the ice spear had even left my spear.

 

There were a few funny quirks of using a different element than most people, several of them quite useful. The most important, however, was that most defensive spells were tuned to deflect specifically heat and fire magic. This made them exceptionally strong against that, of course, and nobody but Summark and the eastern edges of Doux-Burgund had to deal with anyone who used anything else. And since a wooden bridge doesn’t have any general magic shields like a soldier does, that means…

 

The enemy mage’s eyes widened as the spear went right through the countermeasures and slammed into the bridge. Immediately, the second spell imbued on the first exploded out in a circle, and it was only moments before the charge began to unravel. Over a dozen cried out in panic as they slipped over the side to fall into the freezing lake, each of their impacts sending up clouds of mist from the heating spells they kept on them. Others yet fell into the back of those fighting ahead, interrupting their line at the front and allowing the Minuans to surge forward in the confusion. Within a minute, our soldiers had pushed the remainder off the boat and stood hurling insults across the gap. I jumped up and whooped myself as the bridge slid off and fell into the water below.

 

I wheeled around towards the other bridges with Andril, a stupid grin on my face.

 

“One down, four more to-”

 

A terrible pain blossomed in my chest as a sword bounced off my enchanted coat above my sternum, knocking me to the ground with a sickening crack. Its wielder, an Ostiper man in his late thirties, swiftly raised his arm for another strike. Behind him, four other men holding spears rushed towards Andril.

 

I rolled out of the way as the man’s sword came down, and I could hear Andril and the now free men behind him begin to fight. Glancing up, I could catch Andril’s blade caught fire as it came from his sheath, but I didn’t have any time to marvel at it again. After another quick dodge away from Andril to avoid being skewered, I rolled to my feet.

 

A quick glance over the deck told me everything I needed to know. Just as we had won this bridge near the bow, two of the others had gained enough ground against us to merge their fronts together. Even worse, the bridge closest to us had cut us and the one bridge over here from the rest of our men. And somehow even worse than that, I’d rolled myself away from them, leaving myself by myself with three Ostipers. 

 

I held the spear in a low position in front of me as I’d been taught, trying to ignore the blooming pain in my chest. What did I break? Ribs? What the hell was the point of the enchantments if it still broke bones? Did my bones just suck? Or was I just a wimp who thought a bad bruise was a broken rib?

I backed up towards one of the masts, jabbing my spear threateningly as I’d been taught. They didn’t look frightened, however, and snuck closer with a practised ease, all the while constantly glancing around them to make sure they had a handle on the battlefield.

 

Damn it, how had I managed this? The moment I looked away to do something was when they came from behind? What kinda tissue paper defence did our guys put up? And why the hell hadn’t Silst warned me?

 

I raised a quick shield as a sinio slipped from the corner of the farthest lips. That seemed to be the cue for the others, and they quickly rushed me, parrying my spear aside with ease.

 

Far from having learning nothing, I jumped back as well, whipping the butt of my spear towards the closest man’s gut. He didn’t block it, clearly not expecting any resistance, and I channelled a small spell into the tip as it connected. A section of his torso froze up as he stumbled back and fell to the ground, and his two friends stepped back in surprise. For a moment, there was an uneasy stalemate.

 

“Silst?” I tried to call out to my drake, but found that my voice couldn’t carry over the clashing of steel and roar of flames. I could not see him in the skies above anymore, and the worst of thoughts flew through my head.

 

“So it’s true.” The closest man muttered. “They make pacts with the Gryphon.”

 

“The Minuans are breeding demons.” The other said.

 

“Ah, it’s Demonbane, thank you very much.” I waved my speartip towards the first man, who was gasping on the ground. “Easy mistake, I know.”

 

They furrowed their brows and rushed towards me anyway, and I hurriedly cast a spell through my boot.

 

“Nia!”

 

A circle of ice spread over the deck around my heel, and the first man didn’t have any time to react before he set his weight upon it. I stepped to the side as he fell face first into the wood, just in time to dodge out of the third guy’s swing.

 

For the next ten seconds, I dodged and weaved backwards as I tried to avoid being skewered on his spear. Thankfully, though I had less practice and time than the soldier, I quickly found that Fredrick had been much faster and more punishing of mistakes than this guy was, almost an entirely different level of difficulty. 

 

And yet, I found that I still wasn’t quite fast or strong enough.

 

How many years of training does a soldier typically go through? Whatever it was, it was more than a month or two, right? Even if Fredrick was harder, it wasn’t like I’d ever been able to squeak out a win against him either! Saphry was too small, too weak for even a month to make a difference.

 

Even with focusing entirely on defence, the soldier landed more than a few glancing blows against me. It quickly became obvious to me that the enchantments to the coat and cloak made the gear effectively edge-proof, but I could feel the bruises and scrapes adding up at an alarming speed. And though I tried desperately to create some space, anything to leverage my magic advantage, he did not let up whatsoever or allow me any opportunity to channel more than the quickest spells. But it was all I could do to keep him from slicing my head open, so I tried to push down the pain and growing irritation as long as I could.

 

Suddenly, an opportunity opened. His guard opened after a particularly inspired parry with the shaft of my spear, and I saw his throat raised and undefended. Quick as a snake, I aimed my spear and thrust towards his throat.

 

“Relic-”

 

Before I could finish, he furrowed his brow and stepped back, and I found a different spear head thrust towards my gut. It didn’t penetrate, but it drove the air out of me immediately and I fell to the ground. Above me, the guy who had slipped earlier, now looking suitably pissed off, loomed over me.

 

“Spatal!” I began between gasps.

 

A huge ball of snow shot out of the toe of my boots and into his crotch, and he stumbled back with a pained grunt. I quickly scrambled for my spear-staff again, ignoring the screaming of my every muscle.

 

“Sinio! Balso!”

 

A blast of fire launched my staff from my hands, and a second later I cringed as fire washed over me. I heard a crack, and my mask fell in two pieces from my face.

 

Slowly, I turned my head around and up. Two soldiers held pointed spears inches from my nose. The guy who I’d caught with the spatal looked exceptionally enraged.

 

“Tie?” I tried.

 

The only response was a solid kick to my gut.

 

“Ligan.”

 

My gasps for breath lost all sound, and I closed my eyes in defeat.

 

Yet another failure. Story of my life, really.

 

“Hendrick’s dead.” The guy who I was duelling said. “And I don’t think they’re getting the prince. Think they’ll be satisfied with this?”

 

“I’m sure somebody would.” The guy who fell muttered. “Get her up, let’s get out of here before they cut us off.”

 

I felt myself get lifted into the air and over someone’s shoulder, but the surprise at being alive was somewhat muted in the face of the pain of my bruises. And the spectre of defeat and loss at Silst’s potential death soured any joy I might’ve had anyway. Along with the terrible pain of my battered skin. All I knew was that I couldn’t let the count end here.

 

There was no way I was ending this battle as a captive. I would never go through that again.

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