Day 03.

Besk had been thrown from the platform and landed hard against the ground on his side. Someone was shouting commands at him and pushing a vial of red liquid to his mouth.

He sipped from the healing potion and soon felt sensation returning to his arm and fingertips. He shook himself off and leaned up.

“Easy there, Lieutenant, you took one hell of a fall,” a hand pushed Besk back down.

“Any survivors?” Besk managed, turning to see that the hand belonged to Sergeant Vin Arquin of the medical platoon attached to his company.

“Besides you and a spotter, we aren’t sure,” Arquin answered solemnly. “The whole platform was blown clear apart by whatever hit our cannons. It's just gone. Some of the firestone charge was launched back and blew up part of the administrative building. Dropped the whole damned second floor on that corner. Damage control is trying to pick their way through it all, but it’s a mess.”

Besk cursed. “Can we spare anyone from the other platforms? We need to keep up the pressure on the south.”

Arquin shook his head. “No, they’re all fighting just as heavily as we were. But look over there!”

Besk followed Arquin’s pointing hand in the direction of the southern gates. Men and women—Guardians—began pouring out of them from somewhere deeper in the city, weapons drawn and running to meet the attacking army heading towards them.

“Seems we still have allies after all. Spread the word, make sure no one fires on them.” Besk stood, pain still flaring in his arm, but at least it was a dull pain now. He turned and saw the administrative building behind him was a complete mess. “Where are we staging our wounded?”

“Library at the center of the city.” Arquin answered.

“Got it, do what you can to help those recovered from the wreckage, I’ll assist in digging them out.”

Besk turned to the destroyed gunner’s platform and joined the handful of soldiers who were pulling away chunks of debris. They pulled away one man-sized rock and Besk saw an armored hand sticking up at him. He tapped the hand and it responded with a weak curling of the fingers.

“Got a live one over here! Someone help me fish them out!” Besk shouted.

A woman in red armor ran over to Besk and he looked at her in surprise. “I hope you weren’t up there when that blew.”

“I wasn’t. Captain Tyressa Pearce of the 9th Forward Strike Battalion out of Castera,” the woman introduced herself. “Where can I help?”

“Lieutenant Altus Besk. You’re the wounded woman? How are you—” Besk stopped himself, it didn’t matter. “Help me dig this person out!”

Captain Pearce and Besk heaved away the rubble until he saw Sergeant Inais Fask’s bright yellow eyes looking back at him through her helm.

“You alright, gunner?” Besk asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, the enchantments on this armor’s some wicked stuff. What the hell hit us?”

“Some sort of lightning bolt, I saw it from above. Fires and Guardians from the ground isn't our only problem now,” Captain Pearce answered.

Besk looked up in time to see a great fireball travel across the sky, striking a moving white dot. He hoped that was a friendly fireball.

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Besk turned back to Inais. “Can you move?”

Inais nodded and heaved herself up. Apparently the enchantments were good stuff. Despite being buried under a heavy chunk of wall, she seemed none the worse for wear.

“Good, help us dig the rest of our company up.” Besk turned to Captain Pearce. “I know I shouldn’t be giving you any orders, Captain, but I need to stay here and help get the rest of my men back up and fighting. Any way you can help check the administrative building for survivors?”

Captain Pearce nodded, turned, and made for the building behind them.

***

Tyree dodged obstacles of both rubble and people moving with purpose. She went straight for the heaviest hit area. The path was tight, but she saw a way forward and squeezed through.

“Anyone here?” Tyree called out.

General Neemo’s voice answered. “In here! I’m trapped under my desk!”

Tyree ran towards his call and found the general pinned under his overturned desk with a portion of the ceiling collapsed onto it. She ran and began pulling as many chunks away as she could.

“Captain Pearce? What are you doing on your feet?” Neemo asked when Tyree moved into his field of view.

Tyree ignored the question as she finally cleared enough debris away to try lifting the desk. Neemo heaved himself forward and a muscle deep inside Tyree’s gut snapped. She nearly dropped the desk, but pushed through the searing pain doing all she could to avoid crying out. No doubt something didn’t heal right from that potion I downed.

Tyree reached into her bag and pulled out another healing potion and downed it. The pain receded and she let out a breath of relief.

A hand grabbed Tyree’s shoulder and spun her. Neemo looked at her intense eyes. “What the hell are you doing? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tyree said with a hollow voice.

“So long as you know,” Neemo said. His right side was completely covered in blood and wisps of golden mana still swirled around him from whatever spell he’d cast on himself.

Tyree gave him a look, there was a lot of blood, she couldn’t imagine how he was still standing himself.

“You’re not the only one willing to take risks,” Neemo answered simply. “Let’s go.”

The pair hobbled out of the administrative building, following the line of other ambulatory wounded to the village’s library.

Besk was carrying an unconscious man and turned to see them. “Glad you made it out in one piece, General. Thank you, Captain.”

“Two pieces. Maybe a couple more,” Neemo nodded towards his broken leg. “Did those Guardians hit any other buildings? What’s our current situation?”

“More Guardians showed up from inside the city. Seems there really are two sides to the fighting. Right now they’re locked in a stalemate outside the city. Defenders are holding, but I fear it's only a matter of time.” Besk answered.

“Let’s hope it stays that way until the attackers get bored. Where’s Colonel Verne? Let him know he’s leading this effort now. I’m out of commission.”

“On it,” Besk answered.

Neemo sat down on a mat set aside by one of the medics. He shooed away the healing potion the medic pushed in front of him and turned to Tyree. “You shouldn’t be standing. How many other potions did you take?”

“Two and several stamina potions besides,” Tyree answered honestly.

“And you know what that could do to you?”

The rapid healing could cause disfigurement or other permanent injury from the wound not being set and allowed to heal properly. Tyree couldn’t force herself to care about those consequences. She didn’t even care whether she survived long enough to suffer them.

“I was told you and your Guardian friend left here as soon as someone saw the fires from the south.” Neemo let the statement hang in the air for a moment. He gave Tyree a meaningful look. “No one who still has something left to lose would do something so foolish as dragging their body on potions. I am deeply sorry for your loss, Captain.”

Tyree’s eyes grew watery. “The gods have the best parts of my family and the fires of the Guardians took the rest.”

“The biggest lie we tell ourselves is that time will heal this wound. It doesn’t. It’ll only dull the pain. The important thing is to not let that pain consume you. If you truly wish to honor the memory of your family, leave this world better than they left it.”

Tyree wiped her eyes and gave him a nod. “I intend to, sir.”

“Good, now get back out there. You’ve got a city to protect.” Neemo turned away and allowed himself to finally collapse on the mat.