A yawn escapes me. I'm standing in my office, looking up at Fey's portrait hanging above the hearth. She sat for the painting wearing the same dress she wore that soul-crushing night. It pains me to keep it up but it's the only picture I have of her.

I stroll over to my desk, sit down and begin tapping my fingers.

Aldo and Scar should be back from the Dumps soon. I wonder what that little shit has to say for himself when I show him what I found.

A knock cracks on my door.

Readying myself for the confrontation, I straighten my posture and puff out my chest. No more games.

'Enter,' I say, but it's Tready who walks in. Slightly disappointed, I ask, 'Anything?'

'The emissary was staying at Sir Blouf's residence,' Tready replies irritably. 'And I was told, he's already left the city.' He shakes his head.

'What's the matter?'

'I can't believe he was allowed here--' Tready lowers his voice '--Invited to the palace, sir.'

'You and me both. Here's a promise . . . if this siege, this war ends, if we survive, I'll take you out for a drink and we can both whine about it until the sun appears the following day.'

'Deal, sir. So why did you want me to look into the emissary?'

I haven't told my men about my suspicions. But I will if more evidence comes to light.

I lie. 'With the possibility of the Night Cleaver returning I thought it prudent to investigate our enemy. And speaking of the Night Cleaver, any more reports of attacks on women?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing yet,' I reply, certain there will be, and my guts lurch at the thought. 'Thank you, Tready.'

'No problem, sir.'

Tready leaves me to wait for Aldo and Scar again.

I get up from my chair and hobble in anguish over to the cabinet wedged in the corner, withdrawing an empty bottle of elixir. I was hoping there would be at least a small drop left but it's as dry as the Salt Deserts. There is, however, a bottle of something else. And it's full to the brim. It's poison, a faint image of a skeleton on its side and the word, Ellhdoow, written below.

Strange. When did I possess this? Where did I possess this?

I pick it up, ready to scrutinize the vessel of death, when I hear the door open. Expecting Aldo and Scar, I glower at who it is.

My elixirman.

'I saw you at the palace,' I say, returning the bottle and shutting the cabinet.

'Did you now?' the man just replies.

'Have you been promoted to the royal court? I'm hoping you have.'

'That is none of your concern.'

'None of my concern?' My voice is raised. 'None of my concern? Of course it is. You could brew me my elixir with the king's supplies.'

My elixirman doesn't respond. Instead, he walks past me, stares up at the portrait of my wife and says, 'Have you thought any about what I said to you? About retiring from your duties.'

Rage begins to bubble inside me. 'I told you to never mention that ever again. I will not warn you a second time.'

'She would want it.'

I'm about to lose more of my patience on him when another knock comes at the door.

'Enter,' I snarl before making my way back to my desk.

And this time, it is Aldo and Scar. Leech is with them, shuffling in chains. It looks like he gave up a fight, all three with cut lips and brows, and growing bruises.

'Morning, Leech,' I say to him, my elixirman seeming to have slinked away unnoticed. 'Please take a seat.'

Aldo and Scar plop him down violently on a chair before leaving themselves.

'You can't do this to me,' bellows my detainee as he holds up the chains around his hands and shakes them. 'I've done nothing wrong.'

'Nothing?' I reply smugly. 'Evidence points to otherwise.'

'What evidence?' he says, a brief flash of fear streaking over him.

With a leer, I reach into my coat and pull out the golden die, holding it with two fingers as if it was a magnificent royal gem.

The look on Leech's face is priceless. As if he just went a few rounds in the Pit.

'Where'd you get that?' he sputters with a swallow.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

'Where do you think? It's the reason why you're here in chains. Enough with the games. Your need to play with me ends now.'

Leech puts his head in his cuffed hands and mumbles, 'What's going to happen to me?'

'You'll be hanged.'

'Hanged for stealing food?' he shrieks, his legs beginning to tremble madly.

'Not for that but for attempted murder.'

'Attempted murder?'

I stare at Leech frigidly. 'My attempted murder.'

'Is this some kind of joke, sheriff? I didn't try to kill you.'

'Are you sure about that?'

'What would I gain for killing you?'

'Depends on who you're working for.'

I walk over to him and raise my hands. He cowers deep into his seat. He thinks I'm going to hit him but I just lift up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing no wound.

It wasn't him who attacked me down at the reservoir. If I could remember how tall my attacker was, there would have been no need to check.

Leech then surprises me by saying, 'I didn't try to kill you. I swear. All I did was steal the food. Someone hired me to do it.'

Now we're getting somewhere.

'Who asked you to do it?' I snap.

'I don't know. I didn't see his face. It was dark when he came to me about stealing the food.'

'That's not going to cut it. I need something more.'

'The only thing I can tell you is the smell.'

'The smell?'

'He smelled like berry weed. Smoked it as we talked.'

My mind starts to spin.

It can't be.

'Did he smoke it from a pipe?' I ask, sputtering.

'Yes,' Leech replies eagerly, 'from a pipe.'

Feeling dizzy, I stumble to my desk and collapse down on my chair. A suffocating ringing fills my head. I can't think.

I glance back at Leech. His mouth is moving but I can't hear him talk. He looks scared.

Then all of a sudden, a monstrous force throws me into the air. I hit the ceiling with a head-splitting crack, sending my sight into fits. And as I drop back down, I smash onto my desk and flop to the floor. The pain is unbearable but I stagger up to my feet, soon realizing there's a bright, unfocused light all around.

What is this? Have I gone to the afterlife? Am I about to see Fey again?

My hearing and vision, however, soon return.

Daylight and the sounds of explosions flood through a vast hole ripped into the wall of my office. Stone and debris cake the floor.

The keep was hit.

Looking over my destroyed desk, I see the lifeless body of Leech, his head caved in and unrecognizable.

Fuck.

My thoughts turn to my men, to everyone else inside the keep.

Through the debris, I wade outside to the landing, muffled screams and groans treading on the dusty and putrid air. I rush over to the top of the staircase and peer down to the entrance hall. Half of it's gone with bodies littering the remnants, some alive and some not.

The hell with my leg, I say to myself, and bolt down several steps at a time.

I hear a labored voice.

'Help me,' it mumbles. And close by, I find a woman gurgling blood.

With all my might, I grab her and throw her over my shoulders, proceeding to the yard where a crater billowing smoke has unearthed most of it.

I see more bodies.

After laying the woman down on one of the last clusters of yard, more blood spurting from her mouth, a hand grabs my right arm.

I wince in pain as the explosions around the city begin to cease.

Everything's hurting.

'Sir.'

I turn around to see Scar, another cut, albeit small and shallow, carved into his face.

'It's good to see you alive,' he says.

'And you,' I reply.

'What about the other men?'

'I don't know, sir. What do we do?'

'Just get everyone out of the keep who's breathing. It may collapse at any moment.'

'Yes, sir.'

Together we go back in and do just that, eventually finding all of my men alive and relatively well, Aldo's peg leg being blown off the only issue.

And it takes us half a day to clear the keep, an elixirman, not mine, appearing by the end.

'We've put all the ones still alive over there,' I say to him, pointing. 'And the others that were alive but haven't made it . . . we've placed inside the crater.'

It's not the best of resting places for the deceased but the room in the yard is slim.

'Thank you, sheriff,' the elixirman replies, 'That's a huge help.'

'What's it like everywhere else?' I ask.

'As bad as here and some worse. It's all over the city. Please, I must see to the people.'

'Yes, of course,' I reply, moving out of his way.

My men and I help the elixirman as much as we can but more people die, including the woman I carried out. And my help isn't done after that. Leaving Jac and Aldo behind to care for the healing, I take the others and follow the elixirman out of the bailey to see who else we can save.

As I step out of the gate, I witness the rest of the city's destruction. Where homes and shops once stood, now have crumbled into piles of rubble. The carnage is so severe many streets are impassable and I see vigils digging for survivors. The attack was so fast nobody had a chance to get to a bunker. It must be a new weapon of the enemy.

For two days my men and I don't sleep, but I'm used to that. We help as much as we can. It's when nothing more can be done when I head back home, my body withering in numbness.

I didn't know if my house would still be there but it is. I'm grateful.

And as I fumble through the door, I finally have time to recall what Leech said before he died.

Seamil has some explaining to do.

How much do I want to confront him at this very moment, but my mind and body need relief.

Getting to my bedroom, I don't bother taking off my blood-drenched clothes or muddy boots and just fall onto my bed, almost breaking it in two.

I look up at the ceiling, picturing the horrors I've just witnessed. All the death and agony brings me back to my fighting days.

My gaze lurches towards the window.

I see something, a silhouette of a figure, a figure inside my bedroom.

'Seamil?' I gape, lifting my head.

The only answer is the flourishing of an ax.

I barely have time to react as the figure lunges. I roll onto the floor as the weapon comes down, finishing off the bed and splitting it apart.

Splayed on my back, I reach towards my belt, for my sword, but it's not on me.

It must be back at the keep. I must have placed it down somewhere while I was helping the injured.

The figure lunges again but I kick him hard in the stomach, sending him fumbling back and the ax out of his grasp, it coming to rest in the corner.

Watching my attacker steady himself, I grab my bed pan. And as I get to my feet, gripping it tighter, he charges.

I swing but my perception betrays me. I miss and get punched in the face.

Stunned, the figure kicks the bed pan from my hands and goes for another swing but I block his fist and strike myself, hitting the mask I now see.

The cold sting of metal cracks my knuckles, making my hand shudder in pain. And as the figure claws for my face, I punch and punch again with no regard until I can feel blood dripping down my arm.

But my effort has no effect and the figure gets his turn, digging his fingers into my eyes. I yank my head back in agony to then see the blurry figure dart for the ax.

I race after him, sending a leg whipping through his. He trips and careens to his knees. I bound over him and to the corner, picking up the heavy weapon for myself.

A fist flashes towards me the moment I spin around, but I'm too quick with the handle of the ax and hit the figure squarely in the chest.

He staggers with a grunt, falling back to the window.

I raise the ax, ready to finish him off but he jumps out. I bolt over and see him climbing down the wall of my home.

I throw the ax, hoping to connect, to smash his head in, but it misses.

Now down on the street, the figure retrieves the weapon before vanishing into the darkness.