The river will tear you to shreds.

“What if I ... am protected with [Stonehide]?“

You will be cooked inside

“Damn. Think, Simue, think!“ I threw my pack on the ground, pacing back and forth, staring at the tear in the mountain into which the river disappeared gurgling and ... too fast, way too fast.

Your messenger bird?

“[Bearer of Bad News]? It is a material being, if temporary. It will drown, get destroyed, burned...all of it. I could...die? Deliver the message while dying?“

Where can you reform your body? There? You will die over and over again.

“Maybe you could somehow recover my body...“

If we could do that we would not need you to suicide. She wrote a new line. Thimotheus?

“Yes, maybe Thimotheus has a spell that could help. But I don‘t know where he is and if we can afford to wait? The darkness closes in. And how would he come down here with only one leg in winter?“

Ropes and a basket. She scratched the last part. Kara?

“Maybe. Maybe she could summon an elemental of fire that would survive the heat. But would that not die in the river? Damn, we are here now. Kara and I are...listen, I don‘t want to give her too much power. She is not on our side, as far as Ravenport is concerned. She is very much a Wyldling.“

Is she a problem?

I raised my hands immediately as I saw Simue's look. “No, no! Not like that. She is not a problem I need you to...“ I swallowed. “...solve.“ I dusted my hands, dirty or not, on my pants. “Right, Kara might be an option. But an option that would take us days with unforeseen consequences. Kara wanted to be a part of this, because she did not like the idea of me hoarding all the strength of the Wyld without considering the Wyldlings. What if her solving my problems a second time out of four somehow gives her even more...access?“

Wyldlings...Simue began to write quite energetically but stopped herself, crossing the word out several times. You sure this is a diplomatic situation? Maybe we can just break something and kill it.

I sighed. “I have thought about it. I am not a learned man, Simue. And I reckon that killing the guardians will give me the key. But the ocean is falling down into this river. And somehow everything still works. I am not smart enough to foresee what would happen if this...balance gets disturbed.“

The ocean would dry out?

“Maybe. Who knows. We don‘t even know what is happening with this river for sure. How would you kill the guardian, anyway?“

Don‘t know. Poison the water? More rocks into the current? Bring the mountain down? Zora?

“You are too inventive when killing is concerned.“ I chuckled but threw her a hasty look, as she has had those solutions ready at her fingertips. Which was somewhat disturbing.

I sat down beside her, finally, staring at the gurgling masses of saltwater rushing into the mountain. It was a noisy spectacle, which is why we had chosen a spot far away to rest and discuss our plans.

All around us, the strange flowers bloomed in their colorful intensity, unfazed, even unmoved, by the forces funneling down into this very particular spot in the wall of the hole which the Shattered Lands had left behind.

We had thought everything through, one Skill after another. We could reach our goal, one way or another, but we would not be able to survive the environment once we were surrounded by it. That was the problem.

I had a decision to make. We could solve this riddle, I had allies that could, but the question is if we wanted to spare the time we needed. The alternative was...a final option. The alternative, the solution to the problem we could employ right now and right here was dangerous, would make me enemies, estrange friends and allies, tip a careful balance over to all-out war.

It was one friend. Could I cut ties to one friend to win two weeks headstart for a war I knew nothing about but that it was coming? Or however long it would take for Thimotheus to come back. He was due already. If we took Kara down I could, what, solve this mess in 4 days? Was a friend being in my life worth 4 days and the fact that Kara would not get even more influence in the Wyld?

No. No, it was not.

“Simue.“ I said as calmly as I could. “I think you should know that I have just decided not to threaten your life to bait out Zora, only to blackmail her into making the trip down the river if she wants to save your life.“

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Simue stared at me a moment, then scribbled down: Thank you?

“And yet...could she...can you?“

Can I what? Make her do it? Simue was obviously uncomfortable with every second we spent on this topic. She already was shaking her head.

I felt a small tugging in my heart, along the connection I had established with Simue when I had made her my companion. I, dimly, felt what she was doing as she tugged at her connection with Zora.

It does not work that way. She wrote in the meanwhile, but I knew she was trying to rouse the banshee at the same time. She protects me and takes revenge. She is not with me all the time. She does not listen. She is not a dog.

“But she is Zora, right? She was, at least. Squire of the Order of the Miswalkers! Bravest woman I knew, no offence Simue, and fiery in battle and debate. That woman would help.“

She was...sometimes she still is. But she is so angry and so hungry all the time. There is none of the warmth left. She...a single tear slapped onto the page as Simue hastily swept away the others. She does not understand that she hurts me. She loves me still, as I love her. She just does not understand that all she does is take...and take...

Silently, the small woman convulsed into violent crying, gloved hands pressed on her face to hide her tears. She turned, slapping away my hand as I tried to comfort her. This was none of my business.

This would not do. Not at all.

It might have been none of my business, but sometimes...sometimes you had to look out for your friends.

I summoned Kingsbane, feeling the heavy blade settle comfortably into my fist.

„Come out.“ I hissed. “Come and protect what is yours.“ I swung the blade, aiming for Simues neck.

I would never have cut her, but how was the ghost to know?

Her wailing was the first thing I noticed, even before her blades met Kingsbane to stop the swing. She rose out of the ground with a manic grin on her face. This time no ghostly flames covered her face, so I could see the dark hole where her eye had been - taken by the torture of Barak Bloodbraid long before she had died. Her one remaining eye stared at me with anger and hunger, to no one‘s surprise.

Simue had spun around in shock, instinctively grabbing at her own blades, but I shouted: “Trust me this once, Simue. Step back. This has to be dealt with!“

I saw her hesitate, her eyes racing back and forth between me and the ghost of her woman. She stepped back, if only because she did not know what to do, which was good enough in my book.

“You won‘t take what‘s mine!“ Zora screamed with a hollow note to her words. Rage visibly crept up her face, red light crawling across her chin, carving glowing veins into her pale and marbled skin. “I have seen you talk to her, poison her ear, taking her for yourself. I will kill you.“ She howled. “I will rip your bowels out of your body!“

“This.“ I made a gesture towards her. “All this ends now.“

Internally, I screamed for Lily, my favorite little wisp: Lily! Quick, I need help! What to do with a ghost I do not want to kill? Any ideas?

[On it, Hannibal! -L]

The banshee shot forth, herself fast as lightning, swiping for my head with glistening blades, silvery yet pale, covered with an oily substance. The first one I ducked just so, the second I intercepted with Kingsbane‘s guard.

“Even that.“ I snarled. “Daggers and poison? You were the best swordswoman I ever met. You fought with bravery and honor.“

“Die, then, and tell me how that changes you.“ She screamed, and this time she screamed. The force of it rocked me back across the rock, ringing in my ears, taking my orientation away for a second, before [Breaker of Chains] activated, clearing my mind like a cold bath in the morning.

“Funny that.“ I brought out through clenched teeth, spitting away the blood in my mouth. I must have bitten my cheek. “I did die. And It made me a better man.“

She floated away as Kingsbane cut the air in front of her, she twirled around the lunge I followed up with. She was close, too close, and her daggers found the steel on my breast, scraping along them, drawing blood. Steel would not be enough to protect from the blades of a ghost.

“You do not taste as good as her.“ She sighed, her eye-rolling back in pleasure as she licked her blade. “But you do taste...richer.“

I screamed, hellish cold followed her every strike and the wounds she had inflicted upon me were freezing over. Well, two could play at this game. Kingsbane might be able to parry her blades, but it was an awfully big blade to try and keep two daggers away from me at all times.

I might be able to hurt her if I could Kingsbane convince to cut, but that might be a very final option.

[Ghost Strike] activated as I swung wide to get her away from me, and this time I saw the fear in her eyes as the spectral blade following the first one aimed straight for her throat. She even gasped as she let herself fall back through the very rock she had been standing on.

“The monster has some teeth.“ She snarled as she reemerged.

“I have plenty of weapons to wield against the likes of you.“ I said, adopting a much more controlled stance, taught to me by the Betrayer himself, one that would allow me to answer her strikes with precise ripostes. I could not parry the quick blades of her, but I could retaliate with much more impact than she would be able to handle.

That was the stance of the Betrayer, the art of swordplay he had not only invented but specifically tailored to be used with one blade, unique under the sun. It was made for Kingsbane. The philosophy was to invite the opponent in, to give him the space he needed just to betray his intentions and strike when the opponent has his victory clear in sight, taking it away just a moment before his triumph should be all but inevitable. Betrayal in its purest form. The style was full of false openings, denied flanks, feints, and micro-movements that seemed to lead to a move that never came.

It looked a bit strange, to be fair. Most of the stance and the fighting was done with the blade extended back across the shoulder of, well me. The blade was as such always ready to strike with maximum force, most of the fencing was done with the guard, the grip, and the base of the blade.

It was genius, really. The Betrayer had been and still was a master of the sword.

It was not only a stance to lure the opponent in. It was a stance designed to give Kingsbane the space it need to cut. And for it to truly cut, it needed to be swung wide and with all the force I could find in myself, to the detriment of my defense.

And right now I really wanted to cut a bitch.