Mythos: Last Stand

  Chapter 33 — Kill or Be Killed

  by Caide Fullerton

  A Mer warrior vaulted over the railing, a bronze spear held tight in his hands; on the opposite side of the ship, a female warrior boarded wielding a cutlass and buckler. Both were immediately struck by a barrage of wind bullets, the glowing projectiles aiming for their joints. They struck true, drawing blood, but they did not pierce through like they had against the Shades before; no, the Merfolk’s skin was too thick, too sturdy for that.

  Jahd charged the spearman, his odachi back in hand. He swung to rend his foe from shoulder to hip; the Mer blocked the attack with the shaft of his spear. The two warriors clashed for a moment, but the Mer was taller, stronger. He shoved Jahd back, then counterattacked, thrusting his spear forward. His attack glanced Jahd’s shoulder; at the same time, ducking to the side, the Zombie made a quick slash that carved a shallow wound into the Mer’s waist.

  Of course, Jahd was merely a distraction; it didn’t matter how deep his cut was.

  An arrow zipped past the Mer’s guard, sinking into his neck. Like the wind bullets before, it struggled to pierce his thick skin, though the metal fared a bit better. Even so, and even striking a place as vulnerable as the neck, it was unable to deal a fatal blow. The warrior reeled, at least dealt significant harm by the attack that should have surely killed him.

  Simultaneous to Jahd & Sam’s offensive against the spearman, the others stood against the swordswoman. As she touched down on the deck, she was met by a charging Helena, bastard sword in hand. She swung; the Mer deflected the blow with her shield, countering with a strike of her own; Helena, too, deflected with her shield.

  The two were freed from their brief stalemate as another combatant approached from the side—Strade, who flicked a knife for the Mer’s head. She twisted such that it only grazed her shoulder, shoving Helena back with a flick of her tail. Her focus shifted to Strade and she lurched towards him, slamming her sword down. He only barely leapt back in time to avoid the crushing blow.

  Then a clamor rang out. Unlike Valis, this warrior’s armor covered her entire torso; a javelin had struck her in the back, meeting that armor head-on. It did not pierce her armor, but the impact staggered her; with that opening, Strade rushed past, cleaving a shallow wound into her hip.

  The Mer whirled around to face the Humans, but one of them was already attacking again. Helena tackled the swordswoman shield-first, forcing her back along the edge of the deck. Her momentum only carried for a few seconds before the Mer regained control, coming to a stop.

  That was just enough. She was in front of one of the wrecked parts of the railing, now. A gust of wind broke her free of her clash with Helena. That alone wasn’t enough to knock her overboard, which was why Jackie came rushing in, shoulder-tackling her off the edge of the ship. She was left to crash down into the sea below, but Jackie was thankfully saved as Helena caught them by the shirt and threw them back aboard.

  Helena: “Strade, cut her rope before she climbs back up!” She barked out an order without turning back, instead moving her gaze to the fight on the ship’s port side.

  The Mer facing Jahd and Sam now had two arrows in his body, and was bearing several new scars from Jahd’s blade. Even seeing that his comrade had been defeated, and that he was thus now facing five enemies alone, he stood undaunted.

  It was brave, perhaps, but foolish. Not only because he was outnumbered, but because he was truly facing six foes.

  A Sylph materialized ahead of him, zipping straight towards him. She lobbed a wind bullet into the Mer’s eye just as Jahd stepped forth to slash for his neck; the dual attack sent him staggering back over the railing and into the sea.

  That was one problem solved—one of many. Jackie called out as they retrieved their thrown javelin,

  Jackie: “Sils, can you boost the ship again?”

  Sils: “If I spend some time collectin’ wind again, I could boost fer up to thirty seconds. We need to prepare to take fire, though.”

  Jackie: “No need—they won’t use their cannons.” They glanced to the front of the ship, where the enemy galleon was approaching. “That woman said it herself—she was ordered to take us four Humans alive, no matter what. They won’t risk killing us with the cannons.”

  Jahd: “Then their only choice is ta board. If we gun it past ‘em…”

  Jackie nodded. “Their ship’s similar in size to ours. With Sils, we should be faster. We just need to get past them and we win. This is just a guess, but that ship was probably mobilized from the blockade; if I’m right, the coast might be clear all the way to the mainland.”

  Sils: “Then gun it we shall.” She’d already began whizzing around the mast as they discussed.

  Helena: “What about Lii and Raffica!? They’re still underwater!”

  Jackie frowned. At this point, about thirty seconds had passed since the last message form either of them, which had simply been “We’re fighting the Mer together.” If they were still fighting, it made sense that they probably wouldn’t remember to send more updates, but…

  Jackie: “There’s nothing we can do to help them underwater. We just have to trust them—and to win the fight up here, so their efforts aren’t in vain.”

  Helena clenched her fist, muttering a “Damn it.”

  Jackie understood her frustration. They were frustrated, too, to be unable to help two of their friends, but there was too much going on up here for them to keep worrying like that. Lii and Raffica were both strong; they could handle themselves.

  Against an enemy that was beating all eight of us?

  They clapped their hands on their cheeks, forcefully shaking the thoughts away; they moved on to the other issues at hand to distract themself. It was difficult to judge the speed of the approaching vessel, but they estimated they had only a minute or so until the enemy ship reached them. In addition to that, they also had the rest of the Merfolk to worry about. They’d counted at least six figures on Valis’s ship before the fighting started; including her and the two they’d just defeated, that meant at least three were left unaccounted for.

  Could they have gone to help Valis fight Raffica and Lii?

  They were almost relieved to hear the clinks of hooks against wood to prove them wrong. That relief was swiftly replaced with annoyance as they found that there were four hooks, two on each side of the ship; they must have miscounted.

  They could scold themself later. They readied their sword for the next enemies, but none appeared. Instead, all they heard were two splashes. Peering over the railing, they found both of the hooks’ ropes cut.

  Jackie: “Sils, was that—”

  Sils: “Not me!”

  She whizzed past the opposite railing as a third splash sounded, where she remained coasting above the sea to witness the fourth. She came to an abrupt stop there, the ship leaving her behind and some of her gathered wind scattering away.

  Jackie: “Oi, Sils!?”

  The fairy snapped back to reality and zipped back aboard, returning to her post whirling around the mast. “That damn, stupid girl..!”

  A ‘stupid girl’? “Sils, what was it?”

  Sils: “A stubborn-ass stowaway, that’s what!” She practically growled. “Jahd, the wheel! One o’ you, down on the cannons! The Golems should have ‘em loaded, but they won’t fire ‘emselves. We’re shootin’ past this damn ship!”

  * ? *

  Valis’s ethereal ‘fins’ pulled her out of reach of the shark’s jaws. Her lips twisted into a wicked smile.

  Naturally, evading a single chomp wasn’t enough to escape the shark’s—no, the Mimic’s wrath. It thrashed after her, its body twisting as it launched bite after bite. Valis’s fins Tugged her out of its teeth’s reach each time, dragging her along like a puppet on strings. On the fourth thrash she dodged down, then shot back up, delivering a punch to the beast’s underbelly.

  With shark and shrimp both reeling, she set her eyes back on her distant, sinking sword. She darted after it at top speed. On her own she was already a fast swimmer; with her fins Tugging her along as well, she was unmatched.

  Or so she thought, but the Alphiccan girl recovered sooner than expected and gave chase, her jets running at full blast. Her speed was impressive—enough to keep up with Valis, at the very least. She would still reach the sword first, but grabbing it would provide the Alphicca an opening to attack.

  No sense in taking needless damage, even if she could handle it. She swept her tail out to the side and willed her fins to Tug her backwards, bringing her momentum to a halt. Twisting her body and augmenting the spin with another Tug, she swung her tail around and clotheslined the girl, sending her spinning out past her.

  The girl hadn’t given chase alone. She was followed by something else—a swordfish, barreling straight for Valis’s head. She Tugged herself aside, letting the creature whiz past, followed by a soft clink. Bringing her gaze to it, she found the fish clutching her sword in its mouth as it raced away.

  This time she was the one to give chase. She’d barely started before the Alphicca tackled her, threatening to throw her off-course; she coiled the end of her tail around the girl’s leg and yanked her away, throwing her aside, but she merely jet-tackled Valis again. This time she grabbed the girl by the neck, carrying her along as she raced after the distant swordfish.

  Even held by the neck, the girl remained tenacious. She slammed a jet-powered kick into Valis’s hip; when that didn’t work, she gripped both of Valis’s shoulders and pressed her feet into Valis’s stomach. All of her jets went to full blast at once, causing both of them to spin through the water.

  She’d found herself bearing a begrudging respect for the girl. She was weak, far too weak to stand up to Valis alone, yet she was giving it her all anyways. She’d intended to at least give the girl an honorable death to her blade, but in a way, wouldn’t it be more respectful to meet the girl’s tenacity here and now?

  She Tugged against their rotation, bringing both of them to a stop. She’d decided. She would kill the girl now.

  And so, she gripped her neck in both hands.

  The Alphicca struggled, clutching at Valis’s arms, kicking out wildly. After a moment the jets by her wrists kicked on, granting her the strength to pry herself free. With a two-legged kick and a blast of air, she darted back, placing some distance between the two.

  At that very moment, the Mimic returned, this time in the form of a small fish. It twisted and stretched, flesh spiraling out to become the maws of a shark once again as it barreled towards Valis. Like before, she avoided the attack with a simple Tug backwards. Rather than leave it there, she had her fins Tug down on her arms and up on her tail, whirling her whole body around vertically; like so, she whipped her tail over her head and down into the shark’s back.

  Valis: “You’ve impressed me, both of you!” She cackled out in Shirre, a language she knew the Alphiccan girl would understand. It consisted of clicks and calls and tones that carried well in the water. “Speak your names. It would be uncouth to kill such a worthy warrior without knowing her.”

  The girl stared her down, assuming a fighting stance. “Raffica Cterychil.” She then glanced down at the shark, which had taken up a position a short ways away form the pair to watch their exchange. “I don’t think she speaks Shirre, but her name is Lii.”

  Valis: “Cterychil, huh?” She raised an eyebrow. “What’s the minister of paradise’s daughter doin’ all the way out here?”

  Raffica: “Same as anyone else. I’m completing my Vita Sagacia.”

  Valis: “No special treatment, eh? I always liked that about the Alphiccans.” She cracked her neck. “A shame you came across me. Though I see you’re undaunted.”

  Raffica gave a nervous smile. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  Valis: “No? You are aware that I am stronger than you, yes? And yet, your right hand is intact.” She gestured towards Raffica. “I know well your race’s not-so-secret weapon. It is a powerful trump card—even moreso underwater. Even against someone like me, it would ensure your victory if you managed to land it.

  “In my experience, it takes most Alphiccan warriors about a minute to prepare the claw, however. If you intended to use it, you would have already started the transformation; instead, your hand remains intact.”

  Raffica gulped. “Guess I’m kinda screwed, huh?”

  Valis: “Yes, you would want me to think so, wouldn’t you? But it is quite the opposite. I am certain you would be preparing the claw if you were desperate. That you aren’t can only mean one thing.” She licked her lips. “You believe you can beat me without it. I truly do admire that—the determination in your eyes. Out of respect, I’ll give you a bit of advice for the off-chance you survive this.”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Raffica maintained her fighting stance. Good.

  Valis lurched away, Tugging herself along and swimming at full speed. “Be careful not to judge a book by its cover, girl! It’s true I wanted to learn your name, but even a meathead like me is smart enough to stall for time!”

  Both Raffica and the shark gave chase, but it was too late. During their brief conversation, she’d gotten a glimpse of them—her swords, hastily hidden beneath a rocky outcrop on the sea floor. She swam low to the ground, yanking the bone-carved scimitars free of their hiding place.

  Valis: “Allow me to apologize for leaving a critical detail out of my earlier introduction!” She curled around in the water to face both of her foes. “I am Valis, a proud warrior of the Merfolk, a Corporal in the Evendelian army, and she who has tamed a Leviathan!”

  She held her arms out wide and charged forward. Instead of using her fins to propel herself, she twisted and Tugged down to spin her body. She spun faster, faster, faster, becoming a blinding whirl of outstretched blade as she shot forwards.

  Raffica fled, zig-zagging away with several hasty blasts of her jets. The shark shrank, converging into the shape of an anchor. Sparks flew as Valis’s blades rapped against the metal, at least a dozen cuts landing as she swam past. She curled around to face the two again, her rotation slowing just enough that she could speak.

  Valis: “I am Valis the Cyclone!” She smiled wide. “Do your best to kill me.~”

  * ? *

  The Merfolk made several more attempts to board the ship, but each were either thwarted by the girl below deck or were simply unsuccessful to begin with. With the immediate threat they posed now removed, the ship’s occupants had split up to prepare for what came next.

  Jackie stood on the helm beside Jahd, who was manning the wheel. Sam had descended below deck, and Sils was still whizzing circles around the main mast. Strade and Helena stood ready on the main deck. Jackie peered through their eyeglass, closely studying the approaching elven ship.

  A number of elven soldiers were rushing about on the ship, all dressed in bright white and yellow uniforms. A group of them were preparing a large plank with which to board. Standing at the head of the ship was a man dressed in a glimmering golden uniform.

  ???: “Pirates! If you surrender, we will take you in without further damage to you or your ship!” With just two ships’ length between the vessels, the gold-clad man shouted across the sea.

  Jahd clicked his tongue and shouted back. “Could’ve offered that before you sicced that Mer on us!”

  ???: “For whatever casualties she has caused already, I apologize. If you come peacefully, I can assure there’ll be no more!”

  Glancing at Jackie, Jahd chuckled. “Feel like being an Evendelian prisoner?”

  Jackie: “I’m pretty happy with my current employment.”

  Jahd: “You heard ‘em, Sils!” He swung the wheel to the right.

  The ship swerved away from the approaching vessel. Once they’d moved just enough not to ram the elves, Jahd swung the wheel the other way, setting them back on a straight course. “Hit the sails!”

  Just as she had before, Sils flew an ellipsis behind the ship and back towards the sails, unleashing a great gust that billowed out each of the ship’s sails. The vessel lurched forward at full speed, passing its elven cousin. Then—

  BANG!

  A terrible clamor pierced Jackie’s ears—and a cannonball struck the enemy ship. This repeated thrice more in succession, four cannons unleashing their fury on the elven ship from below deck.

  Based on the sheer volume of the sound they produced, Jackie had expected the weapons to be truly destructive. The reality was less impressive; the enemy ship was plated in iron armor, and through that the cannons had dealt only minimal damage.

  The elves mounted their counteroffensive. Just as Jackie suspected, they didn’t dare risk killing the Humans; no guns or cannons were fired in return. Instead, many hooks were tossed across, connecting the two vessels as a huge plank was dropped over the gap between.

  The counter-counteroffensive began in earnest. A figure of pristine white phased through the side of the ship and soared across its side, hacking through several ropes at a time—Celeste, their stowaway. At the same time, Strade and Helena got to work pushing the boarding plank back while Jahd swerved the ship rightward once more.

  As the gap between the ships widened, the plank threatened to slip into the sea below. Several soldiers had mounted it already, but they faltered. The plank would fall any second, and Jackie could only imagine none of them wanted to end up being the lone soldier to make it across.

  Well, except for one.

  The gold-clad officer leapt onto the plank with gusto, charging straight forward. As it slipped off the railing, he leapt again, clearing the rail and rolling onto the main deck. Rising, he flicked his sword into his hand—a gunblade like what Annelys and other Evendelian soldiers had wielded, though his was a rapier rather than a backsword.

  ???: “I shall make my offer a final time. Surrender and no harm shall come to any of you.”

  Strade scoffed, readying his knives. “And you expect us to believe that, Goldie?”

  ???: “If I wanted you dead, I could simply shoot you now, or have my cannons reduce your ship to splinters.” The gilded man brushed back a long, luscious lock of golden-blonde hair. “If you are willing to come peacefully, I’ve no reason to use force. If not… I cannot help what might happen to your friends.”

  As he spoke, his ship began a sharp turn to pursue them. That he’d managed to board was regrettable, but he was alone. If they wanted to truly escape, Sils needed to keep boosting the sails, leaving her no time to participate in the fight. As for Celeste, she was still wounded from the battle in Avek Tirion; Jackie appreciated her assistance so far, but they dearly hoped she would sit the rest of this fight out. Still, even without those two, the Humans and Jahd made this a five on one. Under orders not to kill them, that glitzy elf shouldn’t stand a chance.

  Jahd surveyed the group below, making the same calculations. He looked aside to A—the only one of the Golems still above-deck—and barked out a hushed “Take the wheel.” He stepped aside, reaching for the sword at his hip.

  Helena: “And what are you going to do alone?” She parroted Jackie’s thoughts. “We’re already passing your ship.”

  ???: “True. Even so, I do not fight alone.”

  A fifth bang rang out.

  It was not the muffled, hollow sound of the cannons going off below deck, nor was it the sound of one of the elven cannons being fired. It was closer, sharper, piercing Jackie’s ears and ricocheting around in their mind, a bell whose chime seemed to stab their ears.

  Jahd stumbled to the side, blood erupting from numerous wounds across his body.

  The sound had been that of a gun.

  It had been fired from right beside Jackie.

  The weapon’s wielder crashed down onto the helm, the wood creaking beneath his weight. The momentum of leaping from ship to ship carried him forward, and he swung the weapon in his hand—a thick hand-axe with a short, flared barrel jutting from the hilt—mercilessly.

  Jahd drew his sword half out of its sheath, bracing a palm against its dull side as he blocked the strike. The force of it sent him staggering further back until he hit the taffrail.

  ???: “Ah, good, I was right—you are the Zombie.” The new figure spoke calmly, a rich tone in his deep voice. “Sorry about that. Jumping across forced me to use my Adrenaline, and I just couldn’t waste such a perfect opportunity for a surprise attack while it was still active.”

  The man was tall, well over six feet, with broad shoulders and burly muscles; compared to his slender kin, he didn’t look very elf-like at all. With a square chin, short hair, and a uniform modified into a sleeveless vest, he carried himself with an air of casual, unbothered confidence.

  ???: “To make up for it, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Captain Beihart of Evendel, and I’m here to either kill or capture each of you on behalf of Lieutenant Marjoriee. Would you mind surrendering so we can do the latter ‘fore we get too far from my ship?”

  Jahd: “Our answer hasn’t changed.” He straightened his posture and drew his sword despite the blood trickling down his body. “Jackie, stand back.”

  Beihart: “That so? A shame.” He glanced down at the deck below and shouted, “Gildern, don’t rough ‘em up too much. And keep an eye on the Sylph above you.”

  With that, he raised his axe, assuming a proper fighting stance. He and Jahd lunged in unison.

  * ? *

  Sam had taken the task of firing the cannons upon himself. He and the others had been shown how they worked earlier, and the Golems had already done all the hard work of properly loading them. All he had to do was brace his ears and yank the cord.

  He did so, immediately regretted his decision, and ran to the next cannon. Four of them lined each side of the ship’s lower deck, and so four of them he fired. Each of the cannonballs crashed against the elven ship’s hull, cracking its iron armor but doing little more.

  He found himself almost disappointed that the cannons had done so little, perhaps because he considered them his sole contribution to the group’s escape efforts. At the same time, he was also glad that they hadn’t done much real damage. Slowing and dissuading the elves was all they needed to do; that he hadn’t hurt or killed anyone was a blessing.

  A grim smile snuck onto his face as he made for the stairs, waiting for the ringing in his ears to subside. ‘That he hadn’t hurt anyone’ was quite the joke. He’d just helped Jahd kill one of the Mer warriors boarding the ship. In justifiable self-defense, perhaps, but he’d still killed someone.

  It was something that had often crossed his mind back in the Forgotten Heap—usually only to be shoved back down by circumstance. Surviving that harsh environment left him no choice but to kill, or so he’d told himself. Some part of him had convinced itself that the creatures he killed were just monsters—that killing them was right, was normal. Another part just couldn’t swallow such a cruel concept.

  Makala: “It is sobering to see so definitively that I was wrong. That they have the capacity, however unlikely, to be peaceful.”

  The old man’s words echoed in his mind. Lii was a monster, too, and one of the most vicious kinds at that—a Mimic. Yet she was kind and caring and civilized. She was a person. She was human just like him, even if she wasn’t Human.

  He’d met a Kritta in Heapwatch, as well. Sam had killed more of his kind than he could remember back in the Heap, but Earpiercer wasn’t some mindless monster competing for survival. He, too, was a person—a human.

  He shook those thoughts aside, focusing back on the sounds from above deck. There’d no doubt been a significant scuffle, but he heard the boarding plank slip off into the sea, saw their ship clear the enemy’s through the slits the cannons poked out of.

  Then he heard a bang—the sharp chime of a firearm. Muttering a curse, he forced himself up the stairs. More sounds came—voices, followed by the clash of weapons. He reached the open hatch leading out onto the main deck and took in the sight before him with a gasp—the enemy had boarded.

  Helena and Strade were already clashing with the foe before him, a slender elven soldier in a golden uniform. On the helm above them, Jahd was fighting another foe.

  Helena lunged at the gilded elf; he deftly parried her sword with his own, stepping back with the grace of a dancer. Her blow having been deflected, Helena pushed forward with a second, horizontal swing, which the man ducked beneath. His rapier jabbed at her, carving a shallow wound into her shoulder. Grunting in pain and frustration, she swung a third time, but the elf leapt back out of her range.

  No sooner did the soldier’s clash with Helena end than a clash with Strade began. He charged straight for the elf, unleashing a rabid furry of swipes. The elf circled him with precise footwork, sidestepping some strikes and parrying others.

  Finally he stopped, catching one of Strade’s knives with his blade. Growling, he thrust his other knife forward; before it could reach, the elf flicked one leg straight up with shocking flexibility, kicking the weapon right out of Strade’s hand. With a slight twist sideways, he lowered his leg and planted a second kick into Strade’s chest, sending him tumbling backwards.

  Strade rolled to his feet beside Helena, drawing a replacement knife. They circled the elf together, moving in opposite directions as they watched his movements.

  Sam nocked an arrow and drew back the bowstring, lining up a shot on the soldier. His hand shook.

  Was he about to shoot this man? To end his life?

  He’d shot Valis not long earlier. It had been a split-second decision, an instinctual reaction to seeing his friends in danger. She’d shrugged off the arrow like it was nothing, and that, perhaps, had emboldened him. He took down one of the other Mer warriors together with Jahd, but unlike Valis, that man did not escape with his life. Sam had inflicted incredible pain on him, and had directly contributed to his death.

  He was a doctor. He’d proudly proclaimed that he wanted to travel the world and save as many people as possible—anyone he could reach with his own two hands.

  His arrows reached far further than his hands ever could. Would he dye their tips in blood to keep his hands clean? For his hands to save one person, how many lives would his bow have to claim first?

  Gildern: “I would like to stress again that we mean you no harm, Humans.” The elf’s voice yanked Sam free of his thoughts. “Our king desires a bloodless war, to which your mission is the final obstacle. If you surrender, we can bring things to a peaceful end.”

  Helena: “Bloodless? There are countless people dying in tents back in Heapwatch.”

  Gildern: “And if a treaty is reached, we can provide them with the medical supplies you lack.”

  Strade: “What do you plan to do with us?” He interjected next, sneering. “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the pirates. Where do we fit into this?”

  Gildern: “You are an unprecedented existence. That Humans still exist is the discovery of the century—perhaps of the entire era since the Great War ended.

  “I believe in the virtue of honesty, so I shall be frank. I cannot claim to know exactly what Lieutenant Marjoriee plans to do with you, beyond that she strictly ordered we take you four alive. I do know, however, that there are forces in this world that may not take kindly to an extinct race’s resurgence, or who would view you as subjects of study before they view you as fellow people.

  “I guarantee you this—no nation in this world is better prepared to protect people like you than Evendel. Our king is a benevolent man, and one who values strength and virtue above all else; if you join us willingly, he may reward you with his nation’s protection.”

  Sam: “And the people of Heapwatch? Of Avek Tirion?” He finally spoke up, his voice as shaky as his bowstring. “What will your king do to them if you win?”

  Gildern: “King Elliana is a fine and fair ruler. He does not deal in petty revenge. He will punish only those who wronged us, and he will ensure such atrocities are never committed again.”

  Helena: “And you expect us to just believe you on all this?”

  Gildern: “If I wished to lie, I could come up with something much more convincing than the reality I described.”

  Strade scoffed. “We don’t need protection from assholes like you.”

  Gildern: “And you accept it from assholes like these instead?”

  Strade: “I don’t need anyone’s protection,” he growled, “and I’m not letting these guys go down until I kick Jahd’s ass.”

  Gildern sighed. “Violence it is, I suppose.” He twirled aside as Strade lunged for him, then cartwheeled a ways back. “I will try to make this as efficient as possible.”

  He stabbed his rapier down into the wooden floor, leaving it there and taking a deep breath. Meeting the trio with a determined gaze, his eyes dilated, a pattern like a crosshair closing around his pupils.

  Then, he was a blur.

  A kick hooked into the side of Helena’s shield, wrenching her guard open. She made to swing her sword, but the streak of gold struck first, laying into her with a flurry of punches. As she staggered back, crumpling to a coughing fit on the deck, Strade darted for the elf. A kick met his chin before he could strike; rushing past, Gildern delivered a punch that planted him into the floor.

  And then the blur was in front of Sam.

  And then the air was gone from his lungs, his ribs hurt like hell, and he was falling down the stairs.

  Chapter Glossary:

  Beihart - One of Marjoriee's elite subordinates. A Captain of the Evendelian army. Hobbies include hiking, wild game hunting, and tasting coffee.

  | Gildern - One of Marjoriee's elite subordinates. A Corporal of the Evendelian army. Hobbies include fashion, swimming, and money.

  Shirre - A language of clicks and tones optimized for use underwater and shared by many of the aquatic and amphibious races.

  | Vita Sagacia - The spiritual journey of growth Alphicca undergo form age 15 to 30, during which they are not allowed to return home.