* FALLING WORLD

Aichlan leaned his head against the cold glass overlooking the cobblestoned street below and the tumultuous seas rocking the galleon and merchant ships moored therein. A fire popped and crackled behind him as he wiped away the condensation and took a drink from a bottle of red wine. The offices of the merchant company they had taken over were fortunately well stocked. Water droplets covered the window as the squall at sea drew nearer. Men hurried to their lodgings or joked over a cigar under awnings below. The scene was so surreal, at least in comparison to all that led up to this point, it was all so normal and out of place.

Darkness had fallen over the Port of Romance at half past two, leaving the camp anxious and irritable in anticipation for the next uncertainty. The forges were red hot as Ashe had rounded up a crew of smiths to refit the growing army. Across from the striking of iron and gasping of bellows, the nuns of The Order huddled around orbs of light and stitched or mended uniforms, robes, and leather armor.

The small camp consisted of the pier where Admiral Donnelyn had laid anchor and the three adjacent city blocks. The Admiral and his crew had sworn themselves to General Aichlan and his army of Silex’s remnants, and fortunately had not forgotten nor lost their Aes Sidhean military bearing during their stint as pirates.

The Admiral ran a tight ship, insisting that things remain as smooth as it did when he commanded them with an Aes Sidhean commission. While Aichlan was pleased that he would not need to micromanage these new additions as he needed to with the rest, they were still pirates. There had been scattered reports from the women of the camp that his men had been giving them unwanted attention. While no one had been so uncouth as to force themselves upon another, yet, it was something that needed to be addressed.

The door to the office opened and closed quietly behind him. Aichlan made no motion to acknowledge Clarissa with her rustling robes as she crossed the room to stoke the sputtering fire. She returned the poker to its rack and stood in silence, as he continued to stare into the sea. She had grown into her new role quite well, despite not being able to recite more than a couple prayers; it was as if she were meant for the mantle.

Clarissa sighed and crossed the room, snatching the bottle from his hands to gain his attention. “So now is the time you choose to break down?”

“Clarissa, what do you think of Lucien’s words? Could this city be truly lost?”

She took a seat and knitted her robes between her fists. “It seems to be the case… is that what has you worried?”

“I expected so much, though I knew it was folly, I expected a haven of sorts. Instead, instead we get more of the same.” Aichlan pounded his fist against the glass and rested his head on his forearm. “Is the world truly lost to this madness?”

“I don’t believe Marquez has fallen yet, not that it will!” She quickly added. “King Laelianus has surely taken the people into the capitol, he is often egotistical and self-centered, but his vanity is a double-edged sword. He will not allow his people to die and suffer as it would reflect back poorly upon him.”

Aichlan shifted his position to look over his other shoulder at Clarissa. “What the hell happened to you?”

She smiled and poured herself a glass of wine. “I believe Séverin put it best back in the Death Marsh, ‘There is a depth to you that seldom few have a chance to witness…’ or something to that effect.”

Aichlan chuckled and took another bottle down from the rack, tittering slightly. “What brings you here? Surely this wasn’t just a health and wellness check on your part.”

“It has been over twelve hours since you sent out Séverin and the others.” She paused, busying herself with an imaginary smudge on the wine glass. “Eth is quite concerned.”

Aichlan drilled the corkscrew into the cork and tucked the bottle under one arm.

“Unlikely—”

“He and Donough are good friends, contrary to what their adversarial natures would lead you to believe.” Clarissa interrupted, blushing slightly.

With considerable effort and a satisfying thunk, the cork was free from the bottle. “Are you quite alright?”

“Quite.” Clarissa smoothed her robes and attempted to avoid eye contact.

Aichlan took a drink, choosing to ignore her strange behaviors. “I was planning on leading an expedition myself, but the weather has taken a turn for the worst. Eth and I were to lead Enyo’s unit along with those stowaway hunters from Vergas.”

Her attention snapped back to Aichlan, her face contorted into an unflattering scowl. “What is stopping you? And why wasn’t I notified? I feel it is my obligation to accompany you upon this-”

Aichlan set down the bottle and ran his hand through his hair. Clarissa stood with a huff and stomped over to snatch the bottle away.

“I just opened that!” he protested.

“Are you listening to me?” She placed her hands upon her hips and tapped her foot in anticipation of a response.

A sigh mingled with irritated growl escaped Aichlan’s lips. “Clarissa, you are now the highest-ranking figure in The Order as far as we all know, I cannot allow you to endanger yourself unnecessarily.”

“Unnecessarily? How dare you! In case you have forgotten, my attendant or assistant or whatever the hell Emarosa was to me is out there!”

Clarissa was notoriously obstinate, and if he were to refuse, she would only badger Eth until he relented or just tag along regardless. Her protests were only a formality. He did not doubt her true intentions were far from selfish, but if Séverin were not in the scout party, he was not so sure she would be as eager to rush off after them.

“Clarissa, this is against every rule and shred of common sense.”

“I will have Eth be my guard,” Clarissa drew herself up, sensing his resolve had cracked, “ if you do not have faith in his ability then this army is doomed for failure.”

“What of Bishop Lucien?”

“Fuck Lucien.” She spat.

“I expected nothing else.” Aichlan laughed. “We leave within the hour then, bring some healers, we don’t know what condition they will be in.”

He snatched the bottle back from her. “But you will need to tell your flock of your decision and hear their objections.”

Clarissa waved him off and took a sip of wine. “I doubt the objections will be too severe, Lucien has been opposed to my elevation to this mantle since the beginning, and with Emarosa missing… he is not the type of man to miss such an opportunity.”

She seemed to glide across the room; her robes train rustled as she made her way towards the fireplace. She certainly had the politics down, which was no surprise seeing as she spent most of her service in the court of Marquez.

“What of Captain Miroshnik’s requests?”

“Who?”

Aichlan set down the half-empty bottle irritably. “Maleah, she has been making several requests to have her unit outfitted and clothed. Ashe has already begun forging their armor, but the nuns of the order are the closest we have to seamstresses.”

“Yes, she has made her requests quite known,” she replied dismissively. “But I am afraid that her soldiers are not the only ones in need of such services. If we could have hired on some tailors from Vergas…”

“We could have gotten nothing more than crooks and grafters.” He interjected. “We will just have to make do till Marquez.”

The door slowly swung open, accompanied by an obligatory knock as Ashe peered inside the study. “Nae interuptin’ anythin’ am I?”

“No, not at all.” Aichlan replied, his spirits rising somewhat with her arrival.

Ashe stepped into the room, dripping with sweat and carrying a large parcel wrapped in a sheet. The object was nearly two meters long by half a foot wide. She was out of breath, as if she had run the whole way. She had a goofy smile on her face he had not seen for quite some time, she was happy about whatever was under the sheet.

“Seen Eth around?” she asked.

Aichlan shook his head. “No, not lately, what is that?”

Ashe smiled broadly and removed the sheet. “I just finished his sword.”

The ‘sword’ was a single edged slab of steel, black as coal. Its edge was like obsidian, and reflected the firelight sinisterly. A ‘C’ shaped indentation at the base of the weapon served as the hand guards; a rod wrapped in strips of suede was set in the indentation as the handle. The blade was inlaid with gold geometric spirals and designs, much like the tattoos worn by the elves.

Aichlan held out his hand. “Do you mind?”

Ashe smiled and held out the sword. “’Course hun.”

Aichlan took the sword, expecting it to weigh an absurd amount, only to be surprised by how light it actually was. “By Dawn! It can’t weigh much more than my own!”

“Actually, it weighs eight grams less than yours.”

“What?” Aichlan hefte the blade. “This thing is light but there is no way it weighs less than three pounds.”

“Does it matter?” Clarissa ran her finger along the blade. “It’s beautiful.”

The edge was waved, a hamon if he recalled, much like the blades made by the mainland Lyresians. Clarissa yelped and quickly retracted her finger as bright red blood poured from the cut.

“Light--! It’s sharp!” her finger glowed blue as she sealed the wound with the Light of Dawn.

“I should hope so,” Ashe took back the blade and wrapped it again, “why’re ye runnin’ yer fingers along it like that anyway?”

“Hmm. It’s such a strange material; I wanted to know what it felt like. But I must be going, if you’ll excuse me.”

Ashe took a seat in a large leather armchair and leaned the blade against an end table as Clarissa made a hasty exit.

“Where is she off to?”

“Off to fetch Eth no doubt. She has insisted upon joining the search party.”

“This one failed to return as well then?” She said with a frown as she tried to get comfortable in the stiff leather chair.

“Aye and I’m not too keen on marchin’ off into the night after them either.” He ran his finger along the window sill, covering it in wet soot and dust. “But I’ll not leave them either. I can’t understand how Laelianus could have abandoned his own cities in such a manner.”

“Ye’ve seen the devastation that man has caused.” Aichlan folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the windowsill. “Citizens are the most precious resource to any nation.”

“True,” He chuckled. “Why is it that this band of misfits has come to be so sage like?”

Ashe smiled and opened her mouth to respond as the door flung open, the handle slamming loudly into the wall. She jumped with a shriek as Eth burst in and scanned the room with an eager eye.

“Oi, Ashe, heard ya had somethin’ fer me.”

“Light blast it Eth! Daen’t ye knock first?”

“Is that it?” He said as he reached for the sword.

“Take it.” Ashe waved her hand dismissively with a growl.

Eth had the sheet off before the words even left her lips, his eye shining, and a smirk upon his lips as he examined the blade. He began to laugh hysterically with joy as he swung the blade, quickly gaining a feel for the weapon.

“Glad ye like it.”

“It won’t melt then,” Eth hefted the blade once more, grinning like a child receiving sweets or presents, “like me last one, will it?”

She shook her head. “It’s made of black diamond and steel coal; it’ll burn, but ne’er diminish.”

“Steel coal? Does such a thing exist?” Aichlan asked incredulously.

Eth laughed again and slapped Ashe jovially upon the shoulder. “Bloody brilliant!” he paused and allowed his hand to linger as he examined her with an eyebrow raised. “Why’re ye so hot?”

She blushed and shrugged off his hand. “None of yer bloody business.”

Eth placed his hand upon her stomach; she flinched and swatted it away.

“What the hell are you doing man?” Aichlan stepped forward, as perplexed as Ashe.

Eth grinned a knowing grin and withdrew his hand. “This an army oor a nurs’ry?”

“Toss off.” She spat, her cheeks a bright shade of red.

“Enyo an’ her lads are ready gen’ral, we leave at yer command.” He tousled Ashe’s hair as he left, closing the door as gently as he opened it.

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“What the hell was that about?” Aichlan said as he cagily crossed the room.

“Ya know Eth,” Ashe averted her gaze, her face burning bright red, “he’s just bein’ a bastard… Ye should be headin’ oot now yeah?”

Aichlan looked her over for several moments before he nodded and kissed her upon the forehead. As far as he was concerned everyone had been acting strangely as of late.

“I’ll be back before dawn.”

* * *

Ransom peered out through a slot in the barricade while Alice and Fiora huddled around a small fire floating upon a red glyph behind him. The fog was too thick to see more than a couple of meters; it gave the illusion of calm despite the terrors it shrouded.

A thud shook the café, rattling the cups and knocked over plates set upon the tables and shelves. Breaths were drawn and held in the tense silence that followed. Ransom shook his head and laughed to himself as Séverin hurriedly crept over to the barricade. While they were far from safe, it was unlikely they would be discovered, the café had a strong odor of coffee and mildew, it should be sufficient to mask his scent from that other Morlock.

He lifted a flap to cast an eye over the rooftops, the remains of the hotel still smoldered and burned. The fog had grown heavier, compounded by the smoke from the fires, leaving little to be seen outside.

Donough abruptly stood with an agitated groan. “Why are we huddled here in the dark like mice? These things are like weeds; we can cut through them and make our way back to the piers with ease!”

“I’ve already tried that.” Ransom replied, disinterested.

“Then you’re incompetent.” Donough spat.

Ransom ignored him and continued to peer out the window. The morlock knew their every move it seemed. He had tried several times to double back before they holed up in the café, but each turn he met was met with undead.

“We can’t stay here Ransom;” Alice chimed in, “we have to think of another plan.”

He rolled his eyes and closed the slit. While the two women never much cared for him, he would be damned if he was going to take lip from that aristocratic brat Alice. He also found it odd how she sided with the elves on nearly every decision, but did not wish to make anything of it.

“You can go out there if you want, but without me to guide, you’ll be running about aimlessly until the dead get you.”

“Then lead ye selfish coward!” Donough roared.

“What the fuck d’ya think I’ve been doing?” He pointed towards the street and the burning hotel. “I tried to lead them down a bottleneck and double back to the port, but there are just too many.”

Donough adjusted his gauntlet and drew his blade. “Then we try again. Staying here accomplishes nothing.”

Ransom laughed in disbelief. There were more than a hundred thousand undead plus whatever fresh hell was making the bellowing noises out in the city, and his grand plan was to try again. He was not sure how the Colby-Nau operated, though the more time he spent with them, the better of an idea he got; and such ideologies got men killed for no just reason more often than not.

“I don’t believe—”

The ground shook again, accompanied by the sorrowful wail what sounded like a foghorn. Ransom paused, waiting for another blast. When silence lingered, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Well,”

The slow methodical thud of massive footsteps drew ever closer, accompanied by a shadowy silhouette hulking through the fog. Ransom stepped away from the window, as the horn sounded again, no longer a mystery as to its source.

“Perhaps it’s not a threat. I mean, no one expected these things capable of speech like that last one right?”

Alice’s question went unanswered as a towering beast smashed through the burning wreckage. It stood over three stories tall; its rippling muscles covered in shaggy fur, and three horns jutted from its bearlike head. Its eyes were like beady black coals with glowing embers as it expelled noxious black smoke from its nostrils. The creature had four arms that ended in three fingered hands with colossal talons. It raised its snout to the sky and let out a deep mournful howl.

The group cried out and covered their ears as the beast’s call shattered the glass around them. The creature sniffed at the air as it slowly approached the café.

“You think it knows we’re here?” Alice dismissed her fire with a wave of her hand.

The creature struck at the café with its massive claws, decimating the storefront and collapsing the roof as the group inside scurried towards the back to escape the falling debris. As the dust settled, the group coughed and sputtered as they pulled themselves and each other from the rubble, only to be met by the emotionless gaze of the behemoth before them. Maleah helped Emarosa to her feet and Séverin drew his blades, still unsure of how to attack this new foe.

“Did I tell you I fought a Minotaur?”

“What the fuck is a minotaur?” Séverin said breathily as he stared up at the beast in awe.

Taryn notched an arrow and subtly drew back her bow while Alice crafted an intricate double-layered rune of wind and ice.

Ransom raised his hand hissed an order for them to hold their attack as three more beasts lumbered over with complete disregard for the buildings in their path. The last thing he needed was for one of them to antagonize the beast that would have otherwise passed them over. The creature looked down at them with a curious tilt to its head. It sniffed as it regarded them with black eyes that seemed to hold the light of distant shimmering stars. It bellowed, and another that had just crashed through a row of apartments and shops returned its call.

The first creature raised its massive paw, and brought it crashing down next to Donough. He stared the beast in the eyes as an explosion of flames and debris billowed past, and remained rooted in the same spot. The creature opened its mouth in a bloodcurdling roar, revealing row upon row of dagger like teeth and a writhing tongue. When the flames subsided, he grinned and cracked his knuckles.

Ransom lowered his hand. “…Alright, it’s hostile.”

Donough had launched himself at the creature before the words had left his lips and hacked away at its leg, severing its Achilles tendon. The creature bellowed in pain and collapsed to one knee, and he hacked away at an arm it used to support itself. With an eardrum-shattering roar, the beast swung one of its arms, striking Donough squarely and sending him crashing into a storefront. Ransom swore and drew his own sword, a butter knife in comparison to Donough’s, and he optimistically possessed a third of the elf’s strength. He signaled for Emarosa to tend to the warrior, if he fell now their chances of getting out alive were effectively shot.

Alice let loose a barrage of three-foot icicles propelled by hurricane strength winds and arctic gales. The beast shielded its face from the wintry assault and the icicles shattered upon impacting its massive arms. Taryn let her arrow fly as Madden charged forward with a wild cry, and buried his axe in the wounded shin of the creature. It roared in pain and prepared to strike at him only to take a bolt of lightning to the face and topple backwards. Alice readied another spell as the other three monsters surrounded the group.

Several doors suddenly burst outwards into the street and a horde of undead townspeople spilled out onto the pavement. He swore to himself and dropped back into a nook to take stock of the situation. The horde slowly spilled onto the main street from the gaping holes created by the colossal creatures, and dragged themselves up from the bottleneck of piled bodies.

The only viable option was to flee north into the woods, though he was not certain it would be a much better alternative. If Port Romance were overrun like this, it would stand to reason that the tiny hamlets along the way were also viper pits.

He signaled for the group to follow him with a shrill whistle, and they made their way out into the street as the café crumbled behind them. The others likely would not go for abandoning the army so readily, but he did not care what they did so long as they got him out of this blighted city alive.

He took off down the street; glancing over his shoulder to be sure the others followed him. Maleah struck one of the undead with her lance and turned to make sure her brother was behind her, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Of course.” She said and dispatched an undead. “He always does this.”

“Gods damn it!” Ransom swore as he reluctantly doubled back.

They all seemed intent of a fighting retreat rather than the more logical recourse of hauling ass. Fiora dove right into the approaching horde while Alice engaged the other two beasts with layered lightning and wind spells. The spells did little more than singe their fur and occasionally knock them off balance as they steadily approached.

Ransom picked off several zombies that managed to slip through, certain that his blade would do nothing to the towering monstrosities. Nearby, Madden continued to hack at the beast’s leg as if it were a tree, splattering his face with its blood as it roared in pain and annoyance.

The creature swatted at him with its claw and sent him crashing through the storefront of a bakery. It limped from the debris of the burning hotel and raked at the ground in anguish indiscriminately. Its rampage felled much of the swarming mass of reanimated townsfolk as Alice and Madden scampered away during its blind frenzy.

Ransom took cover in an entryway and searched for some way out. It was obvious that Séverin had discovered something, as he was nowhere to be seen. He swore again and ducked out after Taryn as she ran past, towards the monster. He slew several undead that rose up to meet her as she stood in between Madden and the creature he fled. She drew back on her bow and launched two arrows simultaneously into its snout and eye. The beast howled again and whacked her with its monkey-like tail.

Donough charged across the street and took Taryn's place. He hurled several flaming bricks at the beast to get its attention. It brought its claw down on him with swiftness and fury, but he managed to block the crushing strike with his sword. The blade dug into the monster’s palm as Donough began to buckle under the strain. Unable to prevail in the show of strength, he ducked down and propelled himself from under the creature's hand on a burst of flames. It smashed its bloody palm into the road, sending up a hail of dirt and stone.

Ransom had made some progress in cutting a path through the undead, ducking and dodging the fetid claws and gnashing teeth of dozens of townsfolk as he made his way towards the first creature. While he held no desire to be a hero, the thing bled and that was enough to at least warrant an attempt in his mind. He slowed as Donough barreled past and vaulted himself into the air on a pillar of fire. Ransom shielded himself from the flames as several undead gave out startled shrieks. He lowered his hands from his face just in time to see Donough impale the creature in the forehead with his sword and ride the carcass back to the ground.

As Ransom stood watching in awe and disbelief, Taryn stumbled over, still glowing as Emarosa imbued her with The Dawn, and fired an arrow into the eye of the second creature. She drew back and fired again, but was off and struck the beast harmlessly in its thick pelt. Overhead, Séverin leapt from a rooftop and landed on the head of the beast as it crashed through the rubble.

Upon gaining a steady footing, he proceeded to pierce its remaining eye with a lead pipe before leaping down as it swatted at him. He grabbed its talon in passing and swung like a gymnast to slow his descent. He flipped and crawled his way between fingers as he made his way to the creature’s wrist, using his blades as climbing hooks. He dug his dagger into the creature's hide as an anchor and frantically searched the fray below for his sister.

Upon spotting her, he let out a shrill whistle to catch her attention as the creature attempted to lose its unwanted passenger. Ransom watched, still not comprehending what he had just witnessed between Donough’s brute strength and Séverin’s gymnastics. His reverie was short lived however as the undead set their sights upon him once more. He struck down two undead and pulled Taryn away from the fray. He caught sight of Maleah in the midst of her graceful dance of death, slicing the townsfolk to fleshy red ribbons, unaware of her brother’s predicament. He whistled again, and finally caught her attention.

“What the hell are you doing up there?”

“Lend me your lance!”

Maleah stabbed one of the corpses and flung the body into a group of revenants that had surrounded Emarosa and the still dazed Taryn.

“Are you fucking crazy? I’m currently using it if you haven't noticed!” Maleah swung her weapon in a deadly pirouette, decapitating several corpses at once.

“Don’t you have a short sword?”

“A what?” Maleah kicked an undead that had become lodged onto her blade. “This is all I’ve got!”

Séverin swore and clung to the creature's shaggy fur as it swung its arm into a building. Ransom ducked and scurried away from the raining debris. He hid in a doorway to catch his breath and searched for the others. Across the street and halfway up the block, he spotted Alice doing battle with more undead.

He managed to dig his blade further into the beast’s flesh, with the other dagger, he frantically sawed at the tendons and veins. The creature slammed its forearm into another building. Severin let out a stream of Xanavien expletives and watched as his dagger was jostled from his hand to clatter uselessly on the pavement below.

“Damn it Maleah! Didn’t you learn to use and carry a sidearm?”

“Fine!” She spun her lance like a windmill of death and flashing steel. “Take it then! If I get killed it’ll be on your conscience.”

After slaying the immediate threats, she launched her lance into the air at her brother. He caught the weapon with bloodstained hands and plunged it into the hole he had made. He used the lance to prop himself up as the creature drew the injured arm to its body. After jerking the weapon free, he bound up the creature's arm towards its neck and shoved it into the creature’s jugular, drenching himself in with an eruption of steaming blood. The behemoth let out a gurgled roar and stumbled back, crashing into a residence. Séverin climbed and dropped his way down as the creature slumped over in its death throes. The row of homes collapsed under its weight and caused him to lose his footing. He let out a cry of surprise and fell two stories to the ground to land hard on a pile of debris. His sister’s lance was lost in the rubble.

* * *

“Damn it brother…”

Maleah shattered the jaw of an approaching corpse with a brick and shoved her boot through the chest of another before taking off after her brother and weapon. Seeing her plight, Fiora served as her sword and shield, fending off the hordes of townspeople as they made their way to the fallen beast together.

“Fiora!” Alice cried out.

Maleah looked back as she launched a row of icicles that shot out of the ground, exponentially increasing in height. A wall of undead were impaled upon the spikes or launched into the air, but others quickly took their place.

“Catch!”

Fiora slashed and decapitated one of the corpse’s before she raised her sword overhead. Alice hastily drew a lightning glyph and sent an arc of electricity to her friend’s blade to charge it with surging current. Fiora swung the sword and sent a wave of electricity rippling through the wall of undead before them, leaving charred husks in their place.

“When do you two come up with this?” Maleah gasped in awe.

“The path is clear, go to Séverin!”

After no more than a couple steps, Maleah was snatched up by the last of the lofty beasts. She swore as the beast squeezed; she possessed no way to free herself. She squirmed and writhed vainly in the beast’s grip, her recently mended ribcage strained under the pressure. She let out an animalistic howl of pain and frustration, as old wounds were reopened. She clawed and bit at the creature’s fingers in desperation, but it was to no avail.

As darkness filled her vision, her pendant pulsed as if responding to her cry, and floated up from under her jacket. The black jewel shined brightly, and white light pierced the blackness from within, like cream mixing with coffee. The white light quickly enveloped her, and slowly disintegrated the monster's hand. The remains of the creature’s limb floated away like ash in the breeze as the light continued to envelope her and expand. Still glowing brightly, the gem gently cradled Maleah in its light as it set her down softly on ground. The creature’s cries were quickly silenced as the light also disintegrated the rest of its body.

She gasped for breath and examined the once again black gem with trembling hands. The smoke within it swirled hypnotically, and she could have sworn she saw faces in the tendrils. She turned her attention back to the chaos of the streets, and found her lance jutting out of the debris.

With a pained groan, she clutched her sides as she dragged herself to her feet. Her vision was blurred and she could not tell if the ground was tilting or if she was. There was an incessant ring in her ears and her mouth filled with a metallic taste. All around her fires burned and the undead masses writhed and crawled about. The crack of lightning as a bolt zipped past her head shook her back to her senses momentarily, and she took off after her weapon.

She stumbled over rubble and bodily remains and passively began to search for her brother. Undead continued to trickle onto the main street and fall from balconies of second story windows, she wondered if they truly were endless. With her faculties ebbing away, she haphazardly shoved her way past several corpses as she stumbled over fallen rafters and support beams of a collapsed building. When she finally reached her weapon and wrenched it free, she paused momentarily to catch her breath and noticed her unconscious brother amidst the rubble. She scanned the carnage for Emarosa, but found that she along with Ransom had disappeared.

“You well?” Donough clenched a wound on his side.

Maleah spun around to face him and the act nearly toppled her. He grabbed her brusquely by the shoulder and propped her up. He snapped several times before her face and attempted to peer into her eyes. She swatted his hand away and attempted to stand on her own, but it did not feel like she had feet anymore.

“Ye got another concussion, did ya hit yer head?”

The gentle misting had since turned to a downpour with increasing intensity. She looked down to her brother then back to Donough with pleading eyes.

“I’ll get him,” He shook his red and orange tipped dreads from their broken binding, “where’s the woman?”

Maleah assumed he meant Emarosa and shrugged.

“Can ye stand?”

She wanted to tell him that she was standing, but a quick look down at her legs splayed besides her showed that she was in fact not. He hoisted Séverin over his shoulder and tucked her under the opposite arm. She glanced up as Madden charged over, leading Taryn by the hand.

“They dead?” he asked.

“Nae, just took a couple lumps to the head is all. Where are the girls?”

“Just up ahead, they’ve cleared a path. Where are the Bishop and Ransom?”

Donough grumbled and cast an angry glare across the lane. “I don’t know where that pasty bastard and the cleric ran off to.”

“We gotta get back to port somehow mate, Taryn’s tossin up blood and Miss Alice won’t last long at the rate she’s flinging spells around.”

“I’m sleepy…” Maleah whined. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“Ye do that, I’ma find Ransom an’ fuckin’ kill ‘em.”

Madden bent over at the waist and lifted maleah’s head up by her chin. “She hit ‘er head?”

Donough nodded and passed Séverin’s limp body to Madden. Maleah allowed herself to be cradled in his arms as the world went dark around her.

“You’re not s’possed to let ‘em sleep if they hit their heads.”

The last thing she saw was Donough as he glanced down at her, to her left Taryn began to puke.

“I’m sure that’s an old wives’ tale…”