Darrell grabbed a second sword from the sand. A sword in each hand, he let his opponents close in. He exposed himself slightly for a moment. They attacked, he parried their swing and pierced them in turn. He left his weapons in their bodies. One last sword laid in the sand; Meerin was too busy watching Rigvan jump at Nefri to notice Darrell claim it.
A few careful steps backward into the ocean kept Nefri from being sliced by Rigvan’s daggers. Rigvan jumped on his horse’s saddle and from it somersaulted forward. His blades crisscrossed against her abdomen even as she dodged backwards faster into deeper water. Soon Rigvan found himself dizzy; he stopped, landed, and held his forehead to regain equilibrium.
The ocean waves lapped with frothy thickness over Nefri’s calves. One of her sandals pulled off her foot as she almost slipped in the tide. A water spell that would bring forth arms of water to drag them into the depths raced through her mind, but it was useless because she couldn’t make a cage with her fingers. What was she even thinking? Water and plant-based magic was Luthial’s specialty. Her left arm barely moved through the pain. A fire spell in the ocean would be pointless anyway. Rigvan ran into the water and swung with his daggers.
Her right index finger saved her chest from being sliced at the cost of a wound. Her left ear saved her eye. Rigvan stabbed her through the left shoulder just below the collar bone. The force of his blade sent her collapsing into the water. Rigvan stepped on her body and raised his daggers victoriously. CRACK! A crackle, sizzle, and pops played as Rigvan’s skin blackened. The ocean about Rigvan’s legs hissed as he collapsed.
“Fool,” Meerin whispered, “He allowed her to get a final attack. Perhaps I’ll be the new commander after all.”
A katana blade lodged itself through Meerin’s throat. The lieutenant choked as he fell off his horse. Darrell’s knees hit the sand. Sweat beaded from his forehead. He smacked his dry tongue against the roof of his mouth as his skin became moonlight. He flung the sword. It couldn’t have flown truer. But Nefri?
“NEFRI!”
Luthial jumped from a cliff overlooking the harbor as waves pushed Nefri ashore. The warrior’s broken arm stretched to the left while her right arm was pinned under her back. Legs curled up tightly. The ocean lapping her body turned a gentle pink. The tattered uniform flapped over broken skin as salt water bathed her wounds. Luthial pulled her out of the salty water and into her arms. Slowly, trembling, with tears streaming down, she stepped backward from the ocean sun as she cradled Nefri tightly.
Nefri whispered, “Let me stand.”
“You can’t, no I can’t let you.”
“I won, let me stand. It doesn’t even hurt.”
Luthial put Nefri on her feet. The red-haired mercenary’s knees hit the sand. Her head arched back as she reached her right arm and stretched forth her palm toward Luthial. They pressed their palms together in a victory gesture as a stream of red swirled down Nefri’s raw arm. Eyes closed, she sighed, and Luthial caught her before she could fall backwards.
The fishing crew found a wooden plank suitable to convey Nefri. Clothes were donated off the backs of the men to keep the board soft and clean her wounds; Darrell donated his jacket, laying it over the body. Luthial lifted the bed herself and kept it perfectly balanced. Delia arrived, jumped to Luthial’s side to assist despite her wounded shoulder. Nostrum lay where Morgul had thrown him, refusing assistance. He remained pinned to the junk heap by Nefri’s spear. Darrell walked back over, sat at his side, put his hands over his face, and wept.
“It’s all right lad,” Nostrum assured through labored breath, “You acquitted yourself well. You’ve no reason to be ashamed.”
Darrell couldn’t stop weeping; he fell into the sand and went into convulsions, thrashed it with his fists. This continued even as Mardela knelt beside her husband. A calloused hand caressed her cheek eagerly as his eyes flooded.
"God must be bringing me closer. I’m already seeing visions. If anyone’s listening, tell Mardela that I’m sorry I couldn’t help her. I love her so; I hope she can forgive me for dying like this. Send me out to sea, I want to rest in the ocean.”
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Nostrum leaned into his wife’s chest and smiled in his last breath.
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On a high wood table laden with scratches, a clean white cloth lay folded in a bowl of cold water. Rolls of thin cloth stood next to the bowl among open jars of crushed herbs: ginseng, comfrey, and dandelion milk. The cloth was treated with these herbs before being wrapped around Luthial’s shoulder wound. From across the hall came the crack of a bone followed by a tortured scream. Luthial and Mardela winced together. Luthial stood.
“Let me go to her, maybe I can help.”
“Don’t. There’s nothing you can do right now.”
“What are they doing to her?”
“Setting the bone to make a cast. They don’t know if it’ll heal perfectly, but the sooner they set it the better. She knows this, that’s why she requested to have it done immediately.”
Luthial sat down and cried, her hands shook.
“I’m afraid. We’ve never done so poorly in battle! I don’t want my Nefri to die. She was already so- so broken when I got there. I thought for sure she was dead. She needed me. She really did need me, and I wasn’t there.”
“There’s nothing more you could’ve done.”
“I can still be with her,” Luthial pushed past Mardela, “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m going to be with her.”
A splint of wet plaster, bandages, and more wet plaster found itself caked around Nefri’s wounded arm. Nefri looked pale, her breathing shallow, but she remained alert enough to acknowledge Luthial with a weak nod. The only chair in the little room was occupied by Delia, but she gave it to Luthial.
“It’s been a long night,” Delia said, “look after her a few hours for me. She’s the strongest, I’m certain she’ll recover.”
“Thank you, Delia,” Luthial held back her tears, “I hope she’ll recover too.”
The fading candles of two remaining lanterns lit the hall, but it mattered little, as the warbling of the wrens and the cool air meant that dawn fast approached. In the dining area, the tables that had been overturned were back in position. Delia noticed a deep indentation in the one near the corner; it had been moved there because of the deep gash it received in battle. With that exception, the restaurant held little evidence that a battle had taken place the night before. Mardela stood at the door, caught herself staring, and came inside.
“Have you seen Nadia?” Delia asked.
“She’s sleeping. With the potion she’s taken, she’ll sleep through today into the next. Dew said it was necessary for her to recover undisturbed. Awlena is attnding to her needs. Did you want to tell her something?”
“I thought to tell her to abandon her quest. I was going to blame her for our misfortune, but then I thought about what happened. That a warlord from the north choose to attack now wasn’t her fault, and by being here we saved many people. Nefri especially, Morgul and his men must have been quite powerful to do what they did to her.”
“What did you decide to say?” Mardela asked.
“I was hoping she could try to heal Nefri. I know she’s drained, but I was hoping she’d at least try.”
“I’m sure she’ll do whatever she can. But try to consider her health too. She’s not totally in control of her powers after so much stress. Every time she heals someone, she saps her strength.”
“Nefri will recover regardless. I was only hoping to speed it along.”
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The first rays of daylight reflected off the sand where Darrell laid. Coarse grains crunched between fingers and palm. It coated his bare chest. He groaned. Sand clung to him everywhere as he writhed. The soaking remains of a shirt he had torn off and thrown in the ocean washed back on shore nearby. The slice through the back of his arm was covered in salty sand, and the wound oozed.
The bodies were gone now, yet he kept envisioning their attacks. A mottled sneaker shuffled the sand in front of his face.
“Go away,” he muttered.
The kick to his stomach produced a dry heave.
“Get up. Stop feelin’ sorry for yourself. You ain’t any good to nobody like that.”
Darrell got up and took a swing at Josh, he missed; he was tired and his whole body felt like it twisted the wrong way as he swung.
“I killed four people. I killed four people. Mass murderer.”
“Warrior. You helped save hundreds more. It was self-defense, you gotta do what you gotta do.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” Darrell’s voice echoed from the short cliff overlooking the harbor. He knelt back down, throwing his face in the sand.
“Get up! Do I have to kick you again?”
“Just go away.”
“I hate your type. You little rich brats who can’t take reality. You make it harder for everyone else with your snot-ball attitude.”
“My dad owns a farm. That doesn’t make me a rich brat.”
“I never even had an old man. I’m not even supposed to be alive, and I can’t rely on anyone because I cause fear and hatred wherever I go. You think you got problems, then what does that make me?”
Darrell sat, brushing the sand out of his hair, “I can’t stop thinking about the way his eyes looked. I can’t forget that look. I want to forget. God help me, please help me forget. But I can’t. I don’t think I ever will.”
“I’ve seen a lot ah things I don’t want to remember.”
“How do you get by?”
“I try not to think about the bad stuff after its part of the past, but I still have nightmares. Those can’t be avoided, you’ll have’em from time to time.”
“Is Nefri dead?”
“Not yet. Climb on my back, we need to get you back to the inn and have that arm checked. Then, if Nefri’s feeling better, you can go say hi.”
“I can walk,” Darrell stood shivering in the morning heat. He held back tears. “I don’t think she’ll want to see me.”
“Of course she will. You saved her life.”