Arriane

I was fine until the next morning, when my euphoria crashed and I realized I’d promised to come back sometime and kiss an ancient spirit. Yesterday felt like a dream, a series of events that had happened to some other Princess Arriane. Everything had felt so simple and certain, the chain of logic rock solid. Rocky liked Sal. Rook liked me. So it was likely Rocky would like me too. But now in the harsh daylight that chain seemed flimsy and ephemeral. Had I really taken those chances? Gambled that I could basically seduce him into letting me off lightly?

I felt off, like the ground might disappear from beneath my feet. So I got ready slowly, with that extra care that’s normally only the province of the extremely drunk. My two companions seemed to share my affliction, both abnormally subdued, and I wondered if they felt the same way about yesterday’s events. I shook my head to myself. I’d been crazy. But on the other hand, I hadn’t been able to come up with anything else yet. And it had worked.

The grin bubbled up from somewhere inside of me, forcing its way out even as I tried to suppress it. It had worked. Rocky had liked me. Rocky had blushed so hard that he turned to steam when I promised to come back and kiss him. It still felt a little unreal, like I couldn’t quite force myself to believe it. But that wasn’t enough to make me stop smiling.

And it wasn’t the best part. No, that was the part that I liked Rocky.

Not because he was a guy. Gender is pretty fluid - no pun intended - for spirits and gods, anyway. Although it was nice to know. No, the reason that was the best part was because I was pretty sure I liked him for a lot of the same reasons I liked Rook.

I wasn’t quite sure what those qualities were. Some if it was physical - the shape of the face and neck, the lips and eyes… and well, yes, I also liked Rook’s more obvious attributes. And Rocky’s too, I suppose, even if they were very different.

But most of it was other. It was the way they talked, word choices and tone. It was the combination of confidence and shyness. It was… very hard to describe, and I wasn’t sure why I liked it, I just knew that I did. And I was almost completely certain that it had absolutely nothing to do with magic.

So by the time I was ready for the day, I had a spring in my step and a smile tugged at my mouth whenever I lost concentration. Sal was studying me out of the corner of her eye. Not judging, but analyzing and cataloging this strange new version of me. Rook was an inscrutable gargoyle behind her goggles, pointedly not looking in my direction.

It wasn’t enough to dampen my mood. But it niggled at my brain, eating at me as we took off and started working our way up the pass. Ogre’s Reach is in the mountains, so after we left the hot springs we headed west and started slowly working our way up. The terrain difference was stark as we gained elevation, and by the early afternoon we’d completely left the desert and were winding our way through a sparse pine forest. The clean scent of the sap filled the air, seeming almost too rich after the past few weeks.

And I was damning myself for being an idiot, because of course Rook was upset. I’d rejected her, and even if that had been a lie I’d then immediately turned around and flirted with someone else. And she wasn’t a mind reader - I mean, presumably - so she couldn’t see the sequence or logic, that my confidence came from her actions. Or what the obvious consequence of that was.

I resolved to apologize and explain. Even if nothing else happened, she at least deserved that.

Although she didn’t make it easy.

* * *

I scowled at the forest. A moment ago we’d been finishing up dinner and I’d been about to ask her to talk. Then she’d grabbed her things, jumped off the wagon and disappeared into the trees.

Sal’s voice was mild. “A lover’s quarrel?”

I gave her an unamused look. “Not yet. Although, thanks for reminding me.” I stabbed a finger in her direction. “What was that Rocky said? Something about you being directly in the chain of events yesterday?”

She did her best to look innocent. “Well, it was my suggestion that we go to the hot springs.”

I shook my head, then crossed my arms. “That wouldn’t be enough. What did you say to Rook?”

She considered me for a moment, then held up her hands in mock surrender. “I suppose it would be a blot on my training if you had missed that.” She grabbed a cloth and efficiently wiped her hands, then retrieved her lute and started tuning it. “I merely informed her of your… challenging childhood.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Really.”

She shrugged, then did something complicated with her fingers that created an oddly simple melody. “It is possible that we also talked about human attitudes toward gender and attractiveness.”

I pursed my lips. Damned if I didn’t resent her for meddling. But then I remembered Rook’s touch, and goosebumps ran up my arms. I considered Sal for another moment, then reached a decision and strode up to her.

She tensed slightly as I approached. So I leaned down and lightly kissed her forehead. Then, while she stared at me with wide eyes and music forgotten, I grinned down at her. “Thank you.” Then I made myself look serious. “But I’m still going to beat you black and blue for it the next time we spar.”

She recovered quickly, looking at me with a bit of the old sparkle in her eyes as her fingers went back to work on the strings. “Thank you for the warning. I shall be watchful.”

I turned and headed toward the trees, pausing just to long enough to give her another smile and a wave. Then I headed out into the forest, Sal’s soft music slowly fading behind me.

* * *

Ten minutes later, I was reconsidering my plan. Following a witch with a dwarven cloak into an unknown forest, while night fell? Probably not my greatest idea ever.

I didn’t think she would ambush me. And I could track her, even in the dark. But I was just too slow - from what I could tell I was moving at half her pace, at best. By the time I caught up she’d already be back at camp. I needed a different tack.

I stopped and considered what I knew of the terrain, and Rook’s path so far. She was following a ridge south, probably toward the high point up ahead so she could take some more arcane readings from the stars. She’d either come back the same way, or she could loop around, probably slightly further to the east. The same way would be easier. Looping would be better tradecraft. Hrm. Witches and paranoia.

It took me about five minutes to find the likely path she’d take back, and another ten to find the right tree (my biggest criteria was one without sap, so I wouldn’t end up sticky). It was at a chokepoint - a pretty poor one, granted - but she’d have to pass fairly close. Unless she just took the same original path back, of course. Then I was going to be cold, tired, and silly. But there was no point in worrying about that now.

I climbed it quickly, then settled in and rearranged the branches to break up my silhouette. And settled in to wait.

It was close to an hour later when I saw the shadow flitting across the ground. She didn’t usually take that long, which made me think she was trying to avoid me. Definitely a good omen.

My positioning wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty good. Once I was sure it was her - and not, say, a random mountain lion or bear or something else that would try to eat me - I readied myself, flexing leg muscles that wanted to cramp from inactivity, and then eased into position. And when she was at her closest approach, I let myself fall.

I absorbed the height with bent legs that I turned into a tumble towards her. She was quick, and by the time I was back on my feet she was turned to face me, a knife in one hand and the other somewhere under her cloak. With a witch the hand you can’t see is the more dangerous, so I stepped slowly and carefully over to my left, letting the dim moonlight fall on my face.

She stared for a bit, then cursed and spun around, knife disappearing into her robes. I jogged after her as she stalked away. “Look, Rook-”

“Arriane. I do not want to talk to you right now.” Her voice was tight, and I felt a pang before steeling myself.

I moved in front of her. “Look. Just let me say one thing, alright?”

She stopped and glared at me for what felt like forever. Then, finally, “Fine.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked down at her. “Please don’t knife me in the throat.”

She blinked at me. “What- aah!”

My leap took her by surprise. She struggled for a bit, but I cradled her carefully as I took us to the ground. I made sure she was on top, and let out an oof as she landed on my stomach. She was straddling me and drove the air out of my lungs. I let go of her, and rested my hands lightly on her hips.

She stared down at me in shock. “What was that?” She seemed too surprised to move, so I guess at least that part of my plan worked. Time to start rambling.

“It’s from a story - I read it when I was younger, Sal gave it to me. Anyway, in part of it the knight and the princess get in a fight, and she runs off and he goes after her and they fight a bit and-” I cut off my rambling. “Anyway, long story short they end up like this and talk things out.”

She peered down at me. “You are not a knight.” She tilted her head. “Or male. And I am not a princess.”

I wanted to laugh. Trust her to point out the technicalities. At least for now her anger seemed to have been replaced by bemusement, so I kept going, tentatively hopeful. “Close enough. I thought you’d complain if I ended up on top. I didn’t want to trap you.” I shrugged. “And frankly, if I ambushed you for real I thought I might end up dead. I mean, not that I’d blame you. So I figured I’d give you a heads up, and I hoped you’d be confused enough that I could get in an apology before you ran away.”

She regarded me for a long moment, before reaching down and tapping my hands. Heart sinking, I pulled them away and put them off to the side. Then she arched one eyebrow and crossed her arms. “I’m waiting.”

I took a deep breath. Right, here goes. “I wanted you to keep going last night. More than almost anything. But I convinced myself it was better to stop. I was just afraid. I thought it was just the magic, that it would be distracting. That none of it was real.” I met her eyes. “So, I’m sorry.”

She was a still statue. Then she sighed, life flowing back into her until she was just a woman again. “And then you found what you were looking for.” She sounded resigned, and she started to stand.

My hand moved without conscious volition, grabbing her wrist. She froze and looked down at me, and I swallowed. “Hear me out?” Then I let her go.

She looked at me for a bit, then sighed and settled back down. I searched for words. I can speak formally. I can talk shop with warriors and knights. Those two are both legacies of Sal’s training. I can insult guys in bars. Sal had nothing to do with that. But this? Matters of the heart? I was mostly lost and adrift. But since lying was what got me into this mess, I decided to try the truth and see if that worked.

“I do like Rocky. But what he mostly showed me was a lot of what I see in you.” She looked confused, so I tried to elaborate. “It means it’s not magic. Don’t you see? It’s real.” I reached up and took her hands. “And you gave it to me, you made me think that I’m… maybe not ugly. That other people might like me. So, thank you.”

She looked down at me. “So what are you saying?” Her voice was quiet.

I gave her hands a squeeze. “Just that if I could go back, I wouldn’t tell you to stop.” I looked to the side, then back. “And I hope you give me another chance to not say it.” I frowned. “I mean, to say don’t stop. Not to say - shit. I mean-”

Her lips cut me off, brief and fleeting, and I closed my eyes. When I opened them she was gone into the night, but I was smiling.

I lifted my hand to my lips. Her kiss had tasted, ever so faintly, of old blood. I thought for a moment, then shrugged.

Nobody’s perfect.

* * *

I woke to Rook’s warmth snuggled against my back, and smiled to myself. I hadn’t expected to find her waiting in my bedroll when I got back, and I’d been a bit hesitant at first. But rejecting her again seemed counterproductive after our conversation. And frankly, I wanted to, the memory of the hot springs still fresh. And once I’d joined her, she’d quickly gotten me over any reservations I’d had.

But my smile faded, because there was a reason I’d woken up. My instincts were screaming at me, and I slowly slit my eyes open because I knew I was being watched.

Sal was about ten feet away, an amused look on her face as she looked at us. She was fiddling with her practice sword, that basic maintenance that everything needs sometimes, and I thought for a bit. And yeah, even with the injured hand I felt like I had… maybe not slacked off, exactly. But I didn’t want to lose momentum either.

I slipped out of the bedroll. I turned around and Rook was watching me, awake and alert, and I hesitated for half a second before I reached down and lightly brushed her shoulder. Then I flipped the blanket over her head to keep her out of the morning sun, and went hunting for something to wear.

It was still hot, but I judged it bearable, and it felt amazing to be back in armor. I’d probably be cursing myself later, but just the security of having it on was a boost. I knew it was false - quite a few things we could fight wouldn’t care if I was encased in solid metal - but the effect was there, all the same. Like an itch on the back of my neck I could finally scratch. And it would definitely cut down on the bruises Sal would give me.

Once I was dressed I hunted down the practice sword and made sure it was in good shape. Then, since Sal hadn’t kicked me out of bed to wake me up, I took the time to stretch and limber up before finding an open space and nodding to her.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I was leery at first, but apparently I wasn’t owed any new special lessons, so we started out normal. Beginning at half speed, then working our way up until the swords and fists and kicks were just blurs. I had almost fallen into my familiar pattern of using size and strength to beat her up at a distance when she pulled away and held up a hand. Then she walked over to the wagon and produced… a second sword. My jaw may have dropped.

Now, for obvious reasons, I have not only fought against Sal. She’d gone out of her way to make sure I sparred against a variety of different opponents, using different weapons, fighting styles, and body types. But I’ve never fought someone using two swords at once, although Sal had once treated me to a lecture on the subject. She considered it foolish, with insufficient power and accuracy to make up for the downsides.

She bowed once, and then proceeded to demonstrate that her lecture only applied to other people by quickly “killing” me three times in a row. If she lost accuracy, I couldn’t see it, and if her power was less she more than made up for it in versatility. And she’d always mixed in her off-hand with punches and grapples, but now it had reach. She’d wade in with a flurry of lightning attacks, and I never had a chance to even respond before she’d find an exploitable gap.

The final time her off-hand blade caressed my throat, I stepped back and held up a hand, breathing hard. “I don’t suppose you have a practice dagger, too?”

She grinned, a little wild from the fight, and then gave me an approving nod before fishing a wooden knife out of her belt and tossing it to me. I caught it by the blade - I am not a knife catcher, ok? - and then flipped it around, holding the blade down across my forearm. Then I hefted my sword and nodded to her.

It helped. I mean, I was still getting my ass kicked, but at least now it was vaguely a contest. I couldn’t do anything amazing, like block all of her attacks or use it as a shield, but it gave me more options by making my off-hand dangerous. Occasionally I used it to slide her sword, but mostly I just harried her hands and arms, using it to force her to play defensively. But really, it was just a delaying tactic. It forced Sal to take longer, but she still seemed to find her way through my defenses much too easily.

I heard Rook stirring, and realized she was watching us. My next step was half a beat too slow, and I had to swing wildly and jump away to keep Sal from giving me a severe case of splinters. I tried counter-attacking, pushing her back, until Rook made another sound and I glanced over in her direction.

Sal took immediate advantage, sliding past my guard and bring her swords around. Directly into mine. I’d stepped into her move, robbing her of her momentum, and my own sword slammed both of hers to the side as my foot slid around hers into a trip. Even surprised she tumbled well, but by the time she recovered I had my blade at her neck. She stared up at me, then tapped her swords on the ground in surrender.

Then she grinned. “Arriane. Child.” It got wider. “Did you just bluff me with Rook?”

I smiled back, then reached down and helped her back up. “Did you really think I’d get embarrassed and distracted?” I gave her a look. “You trained me for that, remember?”

She shrugged. “I was not entirely sure that it took.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You tied up a knight and made me spar in front of him. Naked. For two weeks.”

She did her best to look innocent while she brushed herself off. “I blindfolded him.”

“I was fifteen! It didn’t matter!” My voice was exasperated, but behind me I could hear Rook quietly losing it, laughing hard into her pillow, and that was making it really hard for me to keep pretending to be angry. I could feel a reluctant smile tugging at my face.

Sal, her face solemn, took a ready stance and motioned for me to start. “Again.” She paused. “And do not expect that to work a second time.”

It didn’t.

It took me half an hour to figure out what worked, and it involved attacking her footwork. While her options with the swords were greatly expanded, balance doesn’t care about skill or the fact that you’re a dragon. You still have to stand properly, and in order to effectively use both weapons her positioning had to become predictable.

In combat, predictable is usually synonymous with dead. In this sparring it let me start thinking ahead of her, and by using kicks and trips, combined with power attacks that forced her to defend, I could knock her off balance and create my own openings. I eventually started abandoning or throwing the knife (not that it would do damage, but it’s still a heavy object coming at your head), because I found having two-handed blows, followed by a grab, was more useful. Rook clapped once after one particular combination - she’d gotten up some point and gotten dressed - and I found that more embarrassing than her watching me nude had been.

I pinned Sal four times in a row before she called it off, shaking her head. “And that, Arriane, is why I do not like using two weapons.”

It had been a good workout, and I was sweating heavily. I wiped my forehead as I considered. “I mean, I get what you’re saying. But on the other hand, that was brutal at the start. And most fights are over shortly, so people wouldn’t have time to adjust.”

Sal shook her head. “True, but only because you were inexperienced against that style. With more work, you will find it easy to adapt too.” She tossed me her swords, and I started bundling up our sparring gear while she informed Churchmouse that he was about to be hooked up to a wagon. He doesn’t argue with her as much as he does with me, so it was over quickly.

I thought about Sal’s words, and nodded grudgingly. I could see it being slightly weaker. With more practice, it would be easier to deal with than Sal’s normal anything goes style, which is practically the definition of unpredictable. But I kept it in mind as something to possibly try in the future, too. I’d practiced using a knife in my offhand, but it’s not quite the same, and who knows - maybe I’d find two swords better. Everyone is different, and Sal has her biases.

I shrugged to myself, then shouldered Binder as we started off up the mountain again, following the thin, winding trail.

* * *

It took us two weeks to work our way through the mountains. It rapidly grew colder as we ascended, which was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I was no longer sweating like a pig just walking around. Now I was only sweating when Sal and I sparred. Which brought me to the downside.

After one aborted attempt, Rook had expressed a very firm opinion on the topic of me washing up before she’d join me. Namely that either both were happening, or neither would. So I found myself hunting mountain streams and pools to wash off in. And for reference, they are really freaking cold.

It was enough to make me wonder if it was actually worth it. At least until I got back to camp, shivering, and then Rook would offer to warm me up.

The other downside of mountain travel is that we, reluctantly, started paying more attention to outside threats. Which meant less travel time as we divided up watches so someone was always awake, and no more running off alone into the woods. Mountains are just really good ambush country - sight lines are shorter, and paths are often constrained to pass through predictable areas. Not to mention the endless possibilities of heavy things being dropped on you.

On the other hand, I couldn’t imagine the paths we were on saw much traffic. We were away from normal trade routes, and they were overgrown and our wagon had a hard time of it.

What would normally be the biggest threat - “dark” races - I wasn’t worried about at all. For one thing, the usual classification of dark, in human terms, is synonymous with ugly. It doesn’t actually mean they’re evil or unintelligent - at least, no more so than any other race - although some of them have very inhuman moralities. So they can be reasoned with.

However, the real reason I wasn’t worried was Sal. Dark races are smart enough to know a dragon when they see one, even if she’s playing a lute and singing ridiculous music. The worst that might happen if we ran into a group of goblins, orcs, or ogres would be them throwing us a feast and trying to beg Sal to bless them with her magic.

No, the only worry was stupid bandits.

Competent bandits know two things. The first is that as long as you don’t kill anyone, and you give some percentage of your ill gotten gains to the poor, you’re basically set. Stories love thieves with a heart of gold, and if you play it right they’ll actually help you steal and plunder. There are areas near Bannerstown where you can’t go a mile without tripping over another steal-from-the-rich bandit group.

The second thing smart bandits know is you don’t mess with groups of heroes. Even at a distance, they’d look at us and see a swordswoman, a bard, and an assassin. So they would turn right around and go back to their hideout until we were gone, and then look for a fat merchant who needed a lighter purse. Heroes are easily their number one cause of death, plus we rarely carry easily sellable goods that can be converted to food and wine. The market for used magical swords and custom-fit armor is small, dangerous, and rarely profitable.

But unfortunately for the world, not all bandits are smart. Some are simply irredeemably stupid. Some are new and incompetent. Some are desperate.

And some just think with their dicks.

* * *

“This is really kind of sad,” I remarked, stretching carefully and twisting in my seat. I scanned the sparse forest, carefully not stopping as my gaze passed over the poorly hidden - and quite loud - figures that were attempting to stalk us. The day was overcast, the clouds so close at this height that I felt like I could reach out and touch them. A soft wind played through the pass, carrying with it a soft bite and the clean promise of cold and frost.

Sal cleared her throat. “Please remember, Arriane, that there are those without your advantages and training.” She paused. “And who do not live in a magical story that believes they should be an expert woodswoman.”

While I flushed, she did something complicated with her fingers that produced a surprisingly simple melody, then sang.

Bandits bandits burning fast

Come out and face a hero’s test,

By sword and song and knife and blood

Prepare your souls to meet your god

The last note rang out, and Sal pulled up Churchmouse, stopping the wagon. I shook my head. This was the best ambush location I'd ever seen. And while I'm no great strategist, it was so good that I would have immediately skipped it as being too obvious. Now we were stopped outside their kill zone, and they were almost certainly not competent enough to change plans. If they were smart, they'd retreat and leave us alone, or at least try again somewhere else.

The problem being that if they were smart, they wouldn’t be trying this in the first place.

The figure that approached us was so stereotyped that I immediately started scanning around again, searching for the real threat. Surely this wasn’t actually happening? It had to be a distraction. But there was nothing, just figures in tattered clothes, wielding unkempt weapons as they eased toward us. Twelve to our four, and so outclassed I wanted to scream at them to run, to escape before the inevitable happened. But the idiot was still waving them out of the woods.

I looked over at Sal, but she shook her head, resigned. “It is just what it appears to be.”

I ground my teeth together. They were just so pathetic, it wasn’t fair, I did not want to be a murderer again-

Sal’s hand on my arm brought me around. Her voice lashed at me. “You are overconfident.” I started, but her grip was firm. “The worst blade, wielded by the truest novice, can still strike you dead. And if you die here, I am going to- I will-” she took a deep breath. “I will be very disappointed.”

I was torn between castigating myself for my own stupidity - because by the gods, I knew that, I shouldn’t have to be reminded of it - and apologizing to Sal. But she wasn’t looking for an apology. So I gave her hand a quick squeeze, the most I knew she’d accept, and then I reached for the hardness I knew I’d need. These men were not innocent. They did not have good intentions. I would take them seriously, and they would die by my hand. I closed my eyes, and when they opened it was with the sight of an experienced killer.

Training must be hard, because life is hard.

And Sal was too damn good at her job to let me get this far without spilling life’s blood at least once.

So I looked upon them now, and my impression was much the same. They were no match for us. But still, I cataloged their weapons and movements. The way the older man on the right favored his right foot. How the younger blond kept glancing involuntarily at my chest, how the thin-faced archer in the wool coat was holding his bow incorrectly. And especially how the greybeard next to him was standing with a perfect draw and wary eyes. They were unsure, Sal’s song had rattled them, but they came forward anyway in futile desperation.

I turned to give Rook some basic instructions, and somehow wasn’t surprised that she had disappeared. I smiled to myself and made sure I wasn’t paying any special attention to suspicious rocks next to the wagon.

I evaluated the leader next. He still seemed like a caricature, the perfect picture of the honest thief gone slightly to seed. The handsome jaw ruined by the hint of a second chin, a charming smile that did not quite reach his hard blue eyes. Well-made clothes but slightly stained, the tunic straining - not quite heroically - to hold back the beginnings of a gut. A sword showing a hint of tarnish on the hilt. And to top it all off, a goatee starting to disappear into a week’s worth of beard.

His voice was pure story though, jovial and true. “My Lady. A fine jest you have, and a voice as beautiful as the singer.” He focused solely on Sal, ignoring me. “Now, how about you ask your bodyguard to drop her little toy, and she can enjoy the company of my men while I entertain your lovely self.” His smile broadened. “I give you the word of Ronam Swiftblade that you shall be treated like royalty until such time as you can be ransomed.”

By the gods, could he be any more cliched? I knew, somehow, that there was only one way for this to end. But I didn’t want it to, and Sal was silent, so I did something stupid. I stood up and offered them a chance.

“My name is Princess Arriane Dawnjack.” I let the coldness I was feeling - not from the wind, but from inside - fill my voice. “I will spare anyone who drops their weapons and leaves. You have ten seconds.” I reached down and casually rested my hand on Binder.

They paused for a second. I saw Ronam weigh me, given pause by my size. But then he grinned and started laughing, great big guffaws, and most of the rest followed suit. Only the greybeard kept his composure, grim-faced and starting to edge back.

I looked at Sal, and she nodded. And then she slipped Churchmouse free from his traces, and we exploded into them.

They were still trying to recover from laughing, which was too good of an opportunity to pass up. We both ignored Ronam, and I saw him start to shout before a grey blur slammed into him and trampled him into the ground. I’m not precisely sure where you acquire war mules, or how they’re trained, but I’d take Churchmouse over a horse any day.

We split up, Sal going right and me to the left. I charged forward, zig-zagging slightly to make myself an unpredictable target to the archers. The greybeard shot at Sal, and I heard the soft ting as she deflected the arrow with the sword that had materialized in her hands.

I went after the blond who liked my tits, since he was the closest. I drew Binder and a knife on the run, swerved toward him and then faked a throw. He flinched, and that was enough of a gap for me to cut in and slash the side of his neck. I had a moment's impression of him staring in horror while blood poured out, and then I was past, and forcing down the momentary nausea that had tried to rise.

I ran toward the greybeard, who was starting to circle and draw his third arrow. Then I pivoted and threw myself to the left, directly into the two that had been trying to flank me. The first was too close for sword work, and frozen in shock, so I slammed my knife under his chin. I swore as I felt it lodge into bone, then lifted him up and threw him at the other man with a roar. They both went down in a tangle, and I ran the second one through on my way past.

I threw myself hard to the left, tumbling, just in case someone had been about to shoot me. Then I paused a second to take stock and survey the battlefield. I’d killed three, Churchmouse was still busy desecrating Ronam’s body, Sal had carved her way through four and was lazily dueling a fifth while explaining his incompetence in her dry training voice. And Rook…

My heart stopped. Two bodies were at her feet, but now she was stuck in the open. The greybeard had her locked in, full draw, and she was too damn far to reach him. And she wasn’t a warrior, this wasn’t her specialty, there was no way she’d avoid it. So I did the only thing I could.

I threw away all my training, roared and charged in a straight line.

I was further away, but I have long legs. And despite the fact that Rook was certainly the more dangerous of the two of us, it’s hard to ignore over 250 pounds of solid muscle pounding toward you while screaming at the top of her lungs. So despite his instincts, which were the only ones worth a damn in this entire group, he pivoted toward me and I was staring at the sharp end of an arrow.

I saw Rook rise up and start to move, but she and Sal were both too far away. And he had me dead to rights, I wasn’t going to reach him. I focused everything I had on his fingers. Right… about… now.

I threw myself forward into a roll, raising up my off arm to ward my face. I heard, more than felt, the arrow bounce off the small plate on my arm. I landed in a crouch and looked up.

He’d dodged Rook’s attack and was backing away, notching a new arrow with steady hands. I shoved myself to my feet and started forward, but I wasn’t going to make it. So I threw Binder at him and charged behind.

Now, I am not a sword thrower, but it was a big hunk of sharp metal, and at this distance I put it right at his center of mass. He threw himself to the side, and that gave me the time to close the distance. He looked up at me, only a few feet away, and I saw the knowledge in his eyes that he didn’t have time. But he tried anyway.

I grabbed his arm as he attempted to twist away, pulling him toward me and grinding his bones in my hand. He cried out in pain, and then I brought him close and took a grip I’d never used except in practice. I tightened my muscles, wrenching, and there was a grinding crack as his neck gave away and his body went limp in my arms.

I dropped him, panting, and took a second to look around. Rook was standing a few feet away, eyes wide as she watched me. Sal had finished her last and was slowly surveying for more enemies, but the glance she spared me showed a face of stone. And Churchmouse had wandered off and was eating a bush.

No more enemies, at least for today. I went and retrieved Binder, absently cleaning the blade and resheathing him.

Then I sat down and stared at my hands for a while.