The mid-morning sun felt pleasantly warm and comfortable on Gideon’s back—a feeling that was utterly at odds with the terrible news Celaena had just delivered.
“Give us our options, Marshal Len,” Surelin said with a nervous lilt. “What should we do?”
The news had caused a very distant look to come over Len, and everyone watched as he rubbed his beard absently. He seemed utterly stunned.
“Speak to us, dear,” Edea told him soothingly. “Is this a battle we can win?”
Len shook his head slowly. “...No. Or at least, I doubt it very much.”
“There must be something we can do!” Edwin shouted. “Fight or—or run away, something!”
“We have to make preparations to flee east immediately,” Celaena said urgently. “The migration—”
“Won’t get far by merely running away,” Len interrupted. “We’re far too slow to escape a determined assailant.”
Kara shook her head. “But we don’t have any other options! We need to run, right fucking now!”
“You’re thinking about a defensive action, aren’t you?” Gideon asked Len.
“...Yes. There is little hope of achieving victory, but we may be able to slow them down.”
“We have only five hundred troops,” Edea warned. “Can we delay them with such a small number of soldiers?”
Len didn’t respond, and a nervous silence descended upon the council. A nascent thought about the Kenanites had been forming in Gideon’s mind from the moment he’d heard the news, and in the silence it finally crystallized.
“I just thought of something,” he said abruptly. “If they’re meeting us here and now, it must mean they got the news of our breakout from Loso pretty late. Otherwise we would’ve run into them earlier. I know for a fact that the route between Forelia and Kenan takes two months at a normal walking pace. They must’ve rushed to intercept us out in the open like this.”
“Are you suggesting that they forced a march from Kenan?” Len asked urgently.
Gideon gave him a firm nod. “Yeah, and I’d be willing to bet money on it.”
“Can you please clarify what that means for those of us who aren’t experienced with military matters?” Corrina asked, clearly frustrated.
Edea took it upon herself to explain. “Gideon appears to be implying that the Kenanites are most likely exhausted and foot sore.”
“We aren’t much better off,” Celaena said darkly.
Gideon turned to her. “Celaena, did you see any other banners? Or was it just the king’s?”
She shook her head. “No. I only saw King Bismarck’s banner.”
He was slightly taken aback. His name is Bismarck?
“Are you absolutely sure about that?” Len asked.
“Beyond all doubt.”
“Then they rushed here without hiring any mercs,” Gideon concluded.
“Even if that’s true, it doesn’t materially change our situation,” Len warned. “Yes, Kenanite conscripts are famously poor soldiers, but they still outnumber us at least ten to one. And don’t forget that of our five hundred, less than half are decently trained and experienced.”
“I’m just stating some facts,” Gideon frowned. “The Kenanites are probably exhausted, and also probably don’t have many professional soldiers with them.”
Surelin looked between them anxiously. “I’m not sure I’m following either of you.”
“I’m saying our actual chances of winning a fight are better than zero,” Gideon said. “Dunno how much better, but I think the odds aren’t quite as long as they seem.”
Len turned to Surelin. “Here is my suggestion, ma’am. We ask for volunteers from the migration to join us for a defensive action in order to hold back the Kenanites for as long as possible. In the meantime, everyone else will escape back to the east, where they can spread out and hide in the valleys of the low country.”
“A force of mostly untrained and poorly armed men and women,” Edea remarked worriedly. “Such a force is not an army.”
“We are green, it is true,” Len agreed. “But they are green as well.”
Everyone looked to Surelin, waiting for her decision. She gave Gideon a pointed stare before speaking up.
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Kara and Corrina, you two will go east with the wagons.”
“There’s no fucking—”
“You’re our most experienced caravan master, Kara. And having one more person with the defense won’t make a bit of difference. Please don’t make me beg you.”
Kara looked to be on the verge of tears, but she eventually gave in.
Corrina clasped her hands together. “The spirit of our people will survive, ma’am. No matter the battle’s result.”
“I take it you intend to place yourself on the front line?” Edea asked Surelin gravely.
Fierce determination appeared in Surelin’s expression as they locked eyes. “I will never risk being captured again, grandmother. We are going to win, or I am going to die fighting.”
“I feel the same way,” Edwin said, walking over to stand beside Surelin.
Edea looked between them, then blinked hard, and sorrow filled her expression.
“Celaena will guard your persons during the battle. You will need her far more than I.”
Celaena’s hands instantly curled into tight fists where they hung at her sides. For a moment it looked as if she was about to protest, but instead she gave a silent, bitter nod.
“What will you do?” Surelin asked Edea.
“I will support you with what little power remains to me. Silas and I will establish an aid station in order to receive our casualties.”
That’s only going to help if we don’t get overrun, Gideon thought grimly as he watched them.
Suddenly, Surelin ran up to Edea and wrapped her in a tight hug, and she was followed closely by Edwin, who threw his arms around them both. For the first time ever, Gideon watched as tears began to glimmer in Edea’s eyes.
“This is not the end for either of you, my darlings. Kali has a plan for you both. I know this is true, because she brought you back to me.”
----------------------------------------
The news had come as a terrible shock to Surelin’s council, but it caused absolute panic amongst the rest of the migration. In the chaos that ensued, word spread that anyone who was willing to fight should go west, and that everyone else should leave as quickly as possible back down the road to the east. Kara and Corrina worked as fast as they possibly could to turn the wagon train about and rush back the way they’d just come, all while the people of the migration separated west and east.
Perhaps five thousand people, roughly a third of the migration, chose to join Surelin and her army. The sheer amount of people willing to fight took the council by surprise and caused a stirring of hope, but Len was quick to point out that they were about as poorly armed as could be imagined. Most of them appeared in the army’s assembly area wielding improvised weapons: sharpened sticks, wood clubs, with some only holding rocks for throwing. Of the thousands of volunteers, less than a hundred showed up with anything resembling a decent weapon. A handful wielded swords, along with iron clubs, wood axes and mining picks. But not a single one of them had any form of armor, and Gideon felt that their chances of surviving the battle were bleak.
The scouts reported that they’d found a good defensive position a few miles further west of the migration—a large hill crowned by a copse that commanded an excellent view of the surrounding landscape. It was also quite close to the road, which meant the Kenanites would be incapable of missing them. After taking an hour to wrangle the people into something resembling organization, the army set off to the west, with the trained troops marching in strict formation at the front and everyone else marching after them in haphazard fashion.
They marched for less than an hour before the hill in question came into sight. Gideon was relieved to see the copse at its top had enough trees to provide decent protection, though without shields many would still be dangerously exposed to projectiles. Roughly three hundred yards of flat, grassy terrain separated the road from where the slope of the hill began. As the army turned off the road he realized with some relief that the ground beneath the grass was firm and dry, meaning mud was unlikely to become a problem.
The army reached the top of the hill and turned about, facing the road in a battle line stretching across the hilltop, the trained troops standing up front. Surelin’s council and the rest of the army’s officers then spent their remaining time attempting to better organize the new volunteers. Len suggested that they keep most of them in reserve for as long as possible in order to use them as a quick reaction force, and Surelin quickly agreed. Gideon had a sneaking suspicion that Len’s true reasoning behind holding the volunteers back was that they were so poorly armed and armored that they were likely to panic once the battle was joined.
About a hundred yards to the north-east, at the bottom of the shallow valley between their hill and the next, Silas, Edea and a few dozen hand-picked volunteers worked to set up an aid station. Gideon watched as over the next few hours several tents went up, with people scurrying to and fro between them carrying various goods.
At least we’ll have some medical care ready nearby if we don’t all die immediately.
Hours passed in a hectic blur as everyone scrambled to get their work completed before the Kenanites arrived. The first sign of their presence was carried on a gust of wind blowing from the west. A distant marching chant that sounded almost like laughter, meant to keep soldiers in step with their formation, repeated without pause.
“Hah! Hah! Hah-hah-hah!”
They appeared like black ants on the distant western horizon, marching along the road. Segmented columns of moving man-shapes that steadily increased in size as they approached.
Nervous muttering went up amongst the soldiers standing beside Gideon, and Surelin began to call out above the chants to ease their fear.
“Be calm! Everyone, be calm! Remember who you are fighting to protect! Remember that they are in your lands, and your homes lay beyond that horizon! Find your courage!”
Her words had their intended effect. The muttering stopped, and all eyes were glued to the Kenanites as they continued their approach.
Around the time Gideon was finally able to make out the faces and other details of the men approaching, the lead column marched off the road and entered the flat clearing in front of the hill. With only about one hundred yards remaining before they reached the slope, they stopped, chanting and marching in place as the trailing columns marched up alongside. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Gideon and the rest watched the Kenanites methodically position themselves for battle.
The vast majority looked to be equipped with simple broadswords and basic leather armor. The men leading the formations looked to be slightly better armored, the links of their chainmail glinting here and there under the sunlight. On both ends of their battle line, smaller formations of men holding spears appeared, swinging their weapons backwards and forwards in time with the chant. Another, looser, formation of men holding bows marched between the gaps in the formations, and came to a stop a few yards in front of the Kenanite battle line. After studying the archers, Gideon estimated there to be only a few hundred present.
They don’t seem to be all that heavily armed. But in comparison to us…
A horn blew somewhere behind the Kenanite formations. The entire Kenanite army suddenly stopped its chant, and became still. Perhaps a hundred or so men broke off from the rear of their formations and walked back across the road, carrying boxes and various materials. The Forelians watched from the hill in silence as the Kenanites began to set up a series of tents in a semicircle. At its center lay a single massive tent, its purple and gold material shining obscenely. The king’s banner was raised near the massive tent, displaying a white silhouette of Kaan against a black background. His right hand was raised in the sign of universal knowledge, and in his left he held a slave collar.
“The big one will be the king’s tent,” Len remarked.
“Why are they setting up camp so close to us?” Celaena asked, confused. “Why haven’t they just charged?”
“They could be preparing to siege us out,” Edwin guessed.
“It’s a mocking gesture,” Surelin said quietly. “He’s saying that he sees nothing to fear from us.”
A single unarmed man wearing a fine white nobleman's gambeson walked out from between the Kenanite formations. He seemed vaguely familiar to Gideon, but he couldn’t quite recall who he was until he came to a stop at the base of the hill.
Now I remember. That’s the king’s master of ceremonies.
“Corym,” Len murmured.
“Greetings, former and future slaves!” the master of ceremonies called out. “Is there a leader present amongst your rabble whom my king can treat with? He wishes a brief parlay before you are returned to bondage!”
“A parlay?” Celaena asked dubiously.
“It’s a trick,” Edwin growled. “They just want to try and capture us without a fight. We should refuse.”
“The entire reason we are here is to delay them for as long as possible,” Len pointed out. “Every second they spend here is another second they can’t spend in pursuit of the migration.”
Surelin was quiet for a while, thinking.
“We’ll meet with them. Marshal Len?”
Len shouted down towards the master of ceremonies. “Tell your master we will meet with him, nephew.”
The master of ceremonies grinned up at him. “Could it be that this voice belongs to my elderly uncle? Truly, it is shocking to hear you remain among the living. Any other Forelian general would’ve had the good sense to shrivel up and die after the siege of Forelia City.”
“Kali will be the ultimate judge of us all, Corym, be we traitor or hero. Now summon your master, before we send you to receive her judgment.”
“We will both send five people to attend this parlay,” Corym replied impatiently. “And the meeting will be held right where I currently stand. Attempt anything foolish, and our archers will turn you all into pincushions.”
He turned away then, and disappeared behind the Kenanite formations.
“We should kill all five of them if we get the chance,” Gideon said flatly.
His statement drew dubious looks from the people around him, including Surelin.
“What? They’re gonna send out leadership types. If they’re dead it’ll improve our odds.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Don’t do anything without my approval,” Surelin warned.
Gideon rolled his eyes, but gave her a nod.
Soon afterward the king appeared from behind the Kenanite formations, wearing the same pristine white plate Gideon had seen him in at the arena almost a year ago. Corym was with him, now wearing a sword strapped to his belt, along with a thin old man who was also wearing plate armor. He wore a dazzling ruby earring in each ear, the sight of which spurred on Gideon’s memory. He’d been one of the nobles arguing with the king up on the dais at the arena, the one wearing a ruby ring upon each finger.
Gideon was fairly sure he’d never seen the remaining two Kenanites before. They were both young, perhaps around the king’s age, and wearing plate armor similar to his. Their gaits betrayed a familiarity with the swords hanging from their belts. He suspected they were members of the king’s royal guard, rather than officers, which could be an indication the Kenanites expected violence to occur at the parlay.
Surelin led her council down the hill to the indicated spot, and before long the two parties were lined up and facing each other, both sides standing well out of attack range. The king had a jovial smile upon his face as his eyes bounced between Surelin and the rest. He seemed barely able to contain his excitement. But the ruby earring old man looked almost enraged as he stared at Surelin. The slight hunch in his posture made it seem as if he were about to lunge for her at any moment. Gideon remained focused on him.
“I’m so very pleased to see that this sad little group had leaders after all,” Bismark said, smiling ear to ear. “It means I’ll finally have the battle I’ve craved from the very beginning. The siege at Forelia City was not my choice, you see. I wanted to launch an assault upon your walls, but alas…the peers of the realm demanded I take a safer route. But out here, there are no walls for you to hide behind, heretics. And after this battle, history will remember me forever as the king who finally snuffed you out. The king who set our people upon the path of greatness.”
There was a harsh edge to Surelin’s voice that Gideon had never heard before.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Bismark focused on her, and his smile darkened. “The fact that it’s you only makes this sweeter. I regretted allowing him to leave with you almost immediately,” he said, gesturing at Gideon. “And I’ve lived with that regret every day for the past year. But now I see how Kaan has rewarded me for that decision. Fate, it seems, has brought you back to me.”
“Men who believe they understand fate’s will are often disappointed,” Surelin said, her lips curling with disgust.
“Did you call this parlay just to shamelessly strut about, or do you have something worthwhile to discuss?” Celaena snapped.
“In a hurry to meet your feminine god in the afterlife, are we?” Bismark laughed. “Well, then. Corym, tell them why we are here.”
A cruel smile spread across Corym’s face as he stared at Len. “It was I who opened the gates and allowed the Kenanite army to enter the city, uncle. I destroyed Forelia.”
The Forelians reacted with shock. Len’s mouth fell open slightly, and he shook his head slowly with disbelief.
“...Oh, Corym. What happened to you?”
Corym gave him an ugly smirk. “Spare me your attempt at assigning blame, you pathetic gaffer. Why should I have gone down with a sinking ship? Because I happened to be born in it?” He spat at the ground by Len’s feet. “I was willing to raise the gates just to have something to eat again, but His Majesty recognized my usefulness and rewarded me with a position close to him.”
Bismarck seemed delighted with their exchange, his gaze darting back and forth between them. But the ruby earring man had yet to lift his gaze from Surelin.
Gideon suddenly spoke up, addressing him. “Old man, if you keep staring at her like that I’m going to rip your fucking eyes out and feed them to you.”
His statement made the Forelians visibly nervous, including Corym, but Bismarck let out some surprised laughter.
The old man’s voice was hoarse and unpleasant, as if he’d just spent hours screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked Surelin through bared teeth.
“No,” she replied flatly. “And I don’t care.”
“My name is Frikkeo. Your guards murdered my son as he was trying to capture you in that shitheap you called a palace.”
Intense shock struck Surelin immediately, but then her hands tightened into fists, and her expression hardened into a venomous glare.
“His name was Adelmar, and for his sake I’m going to spend the rest of your life carving little pieces off of you. The king promised to hand you over to me after the tournament a year ago. But he broke his promise, and arbitrarily gave you to that giant moron standing beside you instead.”
Gideon instantly took several steps towards him while drawing his claymore, causing everyone else to also draw their weapons and shout with alarm. The Kenanite bowmen nearby were startled, and looked between each other as if searching for someone to tell them what to do.
“I choose you, motherfucker!!!” Gideon raged at Frikkeo over the din.
“Gideon, wait!!!” “No, son!!!” “Stop it!!!”
“Be still!!!” Bismarck roared as he and the other Kenanites dragged Frikkeo back. The Forelians did the same with Gideon, all while both men tried to break free and charge, screaming threats and curses at one another.
Gideon did not calm down until Surelin screamed into his ear.
“Relax!!!”
“Alright!” he said, ceasing his struggle. “Alright! I’m relaxed.”
The Forelians then let him go, with Celaena and Edwin both letting out exasperated sighs simultaneously.
“You want a duel, mercenary?” Bismarck called out mockingly. “Then you’ll duel me, not this old fool!”
“Oh, bring it on, you piece of shit!”
“You and I have both wanted this ever since the arena,” Bismarck said gleefully as he took a few steps forward to stand between the two parties. “So let’s settle it now! Let’s truly find out who the best warrior is!”
“You’re—” Gideon began, but was interrupted by Surelin grabbing his forearm.
She leveled an intense stare upon Bismarck. “The only person you’re going to duel is me."
Bismarck let out some disbelieving laughter, and looked back to his companions as if to confirm the ridiculousness of her statement.
“You?! Haha! I’m not going to fight a woman.”
“Is the monarch of Kenan so terrified of the monarch of Forelia that he refuses to fight?” she shot back.
An irritated frown spread across Bismarck's face as she continued. “You said you wanted a battle to cement your place in history? Well, I’m offering it to you right now. A duel between a king and a queen. Kali against Kaan.”
The last part of her statement caused his eyes to widen with interest. He stared at her for a moment, thinking it over.
“Can you fight, then?” he asked with genuine curiosity.
Surelin lifted her hands up, palms out. “Accept my challenge, and find out for yourself.”
He studied her for another moment before a smile broke out across his face.
“I accept! You and I will finally decide who is truly the dominant aspect of Kalikaan.”
“No armor,” Surelin replied quickly. “For either of us. Just swords.”
Bismarck shrugged indifferently. “Very well. Armor won’t help you either way.”
At that, both sides broke off and gathered around their respective duelists. Bismarck stared at Surelin as his retainers removed his armor for him, looking rather excited.
Surelin quickly pulled her helmet off and set it on the ground by her feet, then stripped out of her chainmail and leather. She now wore only the simple cloth shirt and shorts she’d been wearing beneath her armor.
“Celaena, can you please help me with my hair?”
Wordlessly, Celaena moved behind Surelin and began to tie her hair into a tight bun.
“Why didn’t you let me do this?” Gideon asked angrily. “I can kill that asshole no problem, so why are you risking yourself like this? Is this some kind of revenge thing?”
“It isn’t about that!” Surelin snapped. “The Kenanite king is the head of their religion, their army, and their government. He is everything to them, the personification of Kaan in the flesh, and if his soldiers see him lose in a duel with me they are sure to lose heart.”
Len frowned deeply. “That may be true, but we will be no less disheartened to lose you.”
“I won’t lose,” Surelin said confidently.
Gideon felt intensely frustrated, but he couldn’t think of anything that would convince her to let him do it.
He shook his head slowly. “Kill him, Surelin. Don’t even think about giving him mercy.”
“You really think I need to hear that for him?!” she shouted back.
Yes, Gideon thought anxiously as Celaena finished with her hair. I really do.
When Surelin and Bismarck were ready, they drew their swords and took several cautious steps towards one another until they were both in range. Surelin entered the Roof guard, looking utterly focused. Bismarck took up the Plow, smirking. Their retinues formed a loose circle around them.
He’s way bigger than her, Gideon thought warily as he looked between them. Much taller and wider.
But another thought soon occurred to him.
He’s pretty much my size, isn’t he? And Surelin became accustomed to our size difference when I was training her.
He shook his head with disbelief. …It’s almost as if I trained her just for this fight.
“Well, master of ceremonies?” Bismarck asked dryly.
Corym turned and gave Len a smug grin. “Let the duel…commence!”
Before Corym finished, Bismarck took a step towards Surelin, sending the point of his sword towards her throat at lightning speed. But he completely failed to take her by surprise, and she swiftly transitioned down into a longer version of Plow before deflecting his attack. She batted his sword away, and followed up with an accurate strike aimed at his overextended sword arm.
If her arms had been as long as Bismarck’s it might’ve been the end then and there, but instead the point of her blade made a long but superficial cut along his forearm. Blood instantly escaped from the cut and trailed down his arm as he took several steps backwards, scowling.
“...You’re a left hander? That’s interesting. Yes, that’s very good. Perhaps you’ll provide ample sport after all.”
Surelin said nothing as she returned to the Roof guard.
Good, Surelin. Don’t say shit to him. This asshole is the chatty type, and if you ignore him it’ll get into his head.
Bismarck brought himself up into the Roof as well, this time taking a few cautious steps towards Surelin. When he was in range he launched a swift downward strike at her, but she managed to predict it, parrying hard. Bismarck recovered quickly, though, and he launched a series of downward strikes at her. Surelin responded to each of his attacks masterfully, parrying each one in turn. But the difference in their sizes made it difficult for her to exploit her parries. He began to advance, and as his attacks continued Surelin slowly gave up ground.
She backed up until she nearly bumped into Len standing behind her, then suddenly planted her feet. She deflected Bismarck’s next attack, then recklessly took a step forward before either of them had truly recovered. It seemed to frighten him though, and he leapt backwards just in time to avoid a thrust Surelin fired off at his chest.
He trotted backwards until he was back in his starting position, panting and looking quite frustrated. Surelin followed him cautiously.
“He’s the one who trained you, isn’t he?” Bismarck said, scowling. “Your stance, your movements…it all looks like his. It makes me wonder what else he’s given you.”
Surelin again said nothing, and entered the Fool’s guard as he continued. “Are you two close, then? Lovers, even? Maybe I’ll give you both to Frikkeo when this is through so that you can watch each other die.”
“She’s better than you, bitch,” Gideon growled at him. “We can all see it. You're already dead, motherfucker.”
Bismarck turned his head to shoot Gideon an angry glance, and just as he did Surelin launched herself at him.
If she had used the opening to try and land a killing blow, it might’ve given Bismarck just enough time to react. But instead she wisely aimed her swing for his sword, and when it connected he nearly lost control over it. He tried to leap backwards, but Surelin pressed him, swinging at him with successive strikes from the left and right to keep him off balance. He barely kept up with her, stumbling backwards towards his retinue as he desperately tried to parry.
Surelin began a right hand swing, then halted midway, taking Bismarck completely by surprise.
Yes!!!
At blazing speed, she swung her sword back around her head and brought it down against him from her left. By bringing his sword up to defend from the right, he’d left himself wide open.
The edge of her blade sliced into the fingers on his sword hand, cutting through them like a hot knife through butter and only stopping once it hit the hilt they’d been clutching. Bismarck let out an agonized scream as several of his fingers dropped to the ground, followed by his sword. His expression filled with pain and hatred before Surelin's fist slammed into it.
He fell to the ground on his bottom, stunned, with Surelin holding the point of her sword inches away from his face. All at once, Gideon, the rest of Surelin’s council, and the Forelians on the hill behind them let out a thunderous cheer that shook the heavens. Bismarck's retainers and the rest of the Kenanites were stunned into silence.
“Congratulations,” Bismarck said bitterly under the cheers. “This must feel very gratifying for you.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Surelin replied with icy disdain. “It was never about you. This was for my people.”
Bismarck had landed on the ground just a few feet away from his retinue. All at once, they began to move towards Surelin. Gideon’s body reacted on its own, his hand drawing his claymore as he sprinted towards her as fast as he possibly could.
Frikkeo and Corym’s blades sailed towards her head, and she barely managed to dodge out of their way. The two remaining Kenanites swung their swords at her, and she somehow managed to deflect. At the same time, Bismarck lunged for her legs, rendering her immobilized as Frikkeo swung again.
His swing connected with Surelin’s left arm just before Gideon reached them. Gideon extended his claymore far out ahead of him, and his momentum carried its tip into Frikkeo, penetrating straight through the armor protecting his abdomen and running him through.
They collapsed onto the ground in a heap. Gideon quickly leapt to his feet and ripped his claymore out of Frikkeo, who was screaming and writhing about in agony, then turned to look back at Surelin.
“Surelin!!!”
Len, Edwin and Celaena had also run to Surelin's aid. As they battled the remaining Kenanites, Surelin retreated on her bottom away from the fight, cradling her left arm to her chest. She was covered in bright red blood.
Edwin knocked Bismarck back to the ground as he was trying to regain his feet. He aimed his sword at Bismarck’s head, and screamed.
“Tell them to back off or I’ll kill you!!!”
Gideon swiftly sheathed his claymore as he ran for Surelin. Behind him he heard Bismarck baying at his men.
“Get back you fools!!!”
Gideon scooped Surelin off the ground almost without stopping and ran for the hill. He heard others running close behind him, and ahead of him several of the officers and soldiers were sprinting down the hill towards him.
He came to a stop at the base of the hill, placing Surelin back onto the ground. Grunts and sounds of struggle came from somewhere nearby, and when Gideon looked up he saw Edwin and Celaena throwing Bismarck to the ground off to his right, fairly close to where he’d set Surelin down.
Surelin was hyperventilating, and she gasped with pain as Gideon checked the wound. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands were shaking as they felt her arm. Sweat stung at his eyes.
The cut to her forearm was terrible. It was located exactly halfway between her wrist and elbow. Blood spurted from the wound, and her skin and clothing were covered in a terrifying amount of it. He could clearly see torn, destroyed flesh where the blade had sliced through muscle. White bone was exposed to the free air. Frikkeo had not completely severed her arm with his strike, but he had come extremely close.
“Tourniquet!!! She needs a tourniquet!!!” Gideon screamed desperately.
Someone pushed one into his hands, Len maybe, and Gideon began to wrap it around her bicep above the wound. Surelin let out an ear splitting scream of agony as he tightened it down, but the blood had stopped spurting from the wound when he checked it again.
“The bleeding’s stopped,” he announced wearily. He moved to wipe the sweat from his eyes, smearing his face with blood.
Hands reached underneath Surelin’s arms, and Gideon looked up. Celaena was attempting to lift her.
“She needs surgery! Help me—”
Something black suddenly whizzed past Gideon and glanced off Surelin’s face. Her head lolled backwards violently.
A dagger?!
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The dagger continued away from Surelin and sank deep into the shin of one of the men who’d been kneeling over her on the opposite side. When Gideon turned to see where it’d come from, he saw Bismarck laying with his back halfway off the ground, his arm extended. He’d thrown the dagger at Surelin through a tiny gap between Gideon and the other people crowding around her.
Absolute chaos erupted. Gideon scrambled to position himself between Bismarck and Surelin, covering her with his body. Some of the people kneeling around Surelin also bent over to protect her, others ran toward Bismarck. Sounds of enraged yelling, punching and kicking sounded behind him.
Panicking, Gideon leaned back up and reached for Surelin’s head, holding it between his hands. A deep cut ran from the bottom of her left cheek, up through the bridge of her nose and ending in her right eyebrow. She was still breathing, but the dagger had rendered her unconscious. Frantically, he wiped blood away from her right eye to see if it’d been hit. There was too much blood to be sure, but it looked as if the dagger had just barely missed it.
People were shouting and screaming all around him. He lifted Surelin up into his arms and began to sprint around the hill, towards the aid station. Her head bounced lifelessly against his chest as he ran.
It’s my fault. She’s dying because of me. It’s my fault.
He arrived with her at the medical tents a few moments later. Silas, Tia and Siora ran up to greet him, and were dumbstruck when they realized who Gideon was carrying. All three stood and stared at Surelin’s unconscious form with wide eyes, seemingly paralyzed.
“Help her!!!” Gideon screamed at them.
Silas regained his composure. “...Yes! Yes, of course, bring her inside, quickly!”
Gideon rushed Surelin inside. Several raised medical beds had been set up within, what looked to be stacked storage boxes with bedrolls laid on top. Silas ran up to the closest one, and Gideon laid Surelin down on top of it.
“How long ago did she take these injuries?” Silas asked Gideon urgently as he hastily laid out some surgery tools on the bed nearby. Tia and Siora began to stack clean rags next to his tools.
“I d-don’t know,” Gideon stammered. “A few minutes, I think.”
Edea entered the tent behind him, rushing to Surelin’s side. A choked sob escaped from her as her eyes darted between Surelin’s wounds.
She looked up at Gideon as a single large tear rolled down her cheek.
“You cannot help her anymore,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice. “Return to the army at once.”
“Like fuck I will!” he shouted, outraged.
“She is still in danger!” she shouted back. “The enemy army is still present! Get outside and help us win this battle, before it’s too late for all of us!”
Gideon glared at her, his teeth bared and his hands curled into tight fists. His eyes darted from her face down to Surelin, giving her one last long look before he turned to storm out of the tent.