Harry stood facing the dark clothed man, swords drawn and ready to engage. He lunged in for an attack, and the man vanished. Harry blinked and was hit by a burst of pain from his side. A sword poke through him, blood trickling down the blade and the man stood tall over him. “You failed again,” he said.

Harry blinked and he was back to standing in front of the man with his sword drawn, no wound suffered. He tried a new attack and was decapitated in response, and then he was back where he had been moments before; always back to this point in time. Every tactic he tried ended the same way, with him dead and the man whispering those words, “You failed again.”

At some point a faint sound of rushing water came from everywhere and nowhere. Distracted as he was, he took a thrust straight through his heart. “You failed again.” He could hear Bridget calling out to him, wanting him to come back. Throat slit, “You failed again.” Arm lost, “You failed again.” How do I escape? “You failed again.”

“Stop!” Harry yelled. “No more!”

Blade through the eye, “You failed again.”

“Please! I yield!”

From his back this time, “You failed!”

“Bridget!” Harry screamed. There was no answer. He was alone drifting through the white void. Not a sound could be heard, not even an echo of his desperate cries. Panic consumed him and he flailed about seemingly suspended over a bottomless abyss. Tears of frustration streamed down his face as he continued to call out for her. He had to make sure she was safe.

White faded to black and Harry’s eyes opened in a frenzy. He tried to sit up and was forced back down from the searing pain in his side, a not so quiet squeal escaping his lips. Teeth gritted through the pain, he looked around and tried to take stock of his situation. He was in a large tent with a large center pole holding up the tarp. A sleeping mat had been provided for him, and he was covered in thick woolen blankets. A second mat lay close by his with blankets neatly folded on top. His boots lay close by along with his red coat and pants. Wherever he was, someone was clearly taking care of him.

He calmed himself enough to start examining himself a bit. The wound he had suffered was wrapped in cleaned bandages that hugged his entire torso. Well, they were clean anyways, now they were stained with fresh blood. He wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore and had pants on that were not his. I guess I’m somewhere safe if they gave me their clothes. He took another look around and realized that Bridget was nowhere to be seen. He almost tried to force himself up again to find out where she was, then remembered his wound and gave up the idea.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Bridget threw open the tent flaps and came rushing to his side. “Harry!” she cried, “you’re awake.” She hugged him so tightly that he winced from his wound being disturbed. He held her tightly too, well, as tightly as he could with one weak warm, and finally allowed himself to relax fully. She was safe, and that was all that mattered.

When she finally released him, there were tears in her eyes. “I was afraid you would never wake up!” She said, beginning to sob. He smiled in response, a weak smile, but warm and reassuring. He held her close once more, taking her all in; her warmth, her tears, her smell. Without thinking, he kissed her on her cheek. She stared down at him, her eyes gone wide and biting her lip. Harry meanwhile felt his cheeks flush red and couldn’t meet her eyes.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

A looming presence in the doorway finally caught his attention; a brown haired woman dressed head to toe in battle garb. Her face was fair and pretty, but had a fresh scar on the left cheek. She kept her hair back in a tight ponytail which made her dark eyes appear fierce and angry, and perhaps she was. Every piece of her armor was well polished, but mismatched and dented or scored. Great. Just what I need: another dangerous woman.

“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Smith.” The woman said. “When we found you two on the beach, you were barely clinging to life.”

Harry’s eyes dropped, remembering the dark haired man impaling him. She must have seen his discomfort and her tone became noticeably more amiable. “But you’re alive now, and that’s all that matters. My name is Geneviene, former high lady of Sirene. Now I’m the captain of this camp. If you need anything, send a runner to me. Otherwise,” her eyes lowered to his now red bandages, “I’ll get someone to come and redress that wound of yours.” Without another word, she turned and strode away from the tent.

Feeling more like himself, Harry turned his attention back to Bridget. “What happened? Where are we?”

Bridget’s large smile faded a little and she wiped away the remnants of tears. “Geneviene found us washed up on shore and brought us back to her camp here. I don’t know where it is exactly, but it’s somewhere near the city of Ravincal.” She decided to settle herself down near his makeshift bed and speak to him from a less intimate distance. “Anyways, that was a week ago. You’ve been asleep the whole time and thought you might never wake up.” Her smile faded entirely, “I’m not sure what I would have done if that had happened. How are you feeling?”

Harry drew his lips to a line. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about how terrible he felt and drag her mood down further. “Much better now that I can see you.” He said, and her smile returned if only weakly. “So who was that woman? Geneviene, you said her name was.”

“She’s one of the wealthiest nobles in all of Sirene, or was. She was married to Lord Gabriel. You know, the one that owned most of the silversmiths.” Harry grunted acknowledgment. “Well, after the attack Lord Gabriel was imprisoned, along with most of the nobility and generals. So, Geneviene and many of the other remaining noble families fled. They might have been captured too if Geneviene hadn’t led them all in battle. You should see her fight, Harry! She’s fantastic!” Her giddiness did a great deal to ease Harry’s pain.

“I’ll have to be sure to spar with her, then.” Harry said, but his side ached at the mere thought of picking up a sword again. “But we need to get you to Meja where you’ll be safe.”

“Harry,” she said, her tone now somber, “Meja has closed its borders to everyone. According to Geneviene, no one has gone in or come out of Meja in over a week.”

Harry didn’t know what to make of that. All their plans had officially failed. All he could manage was a soft “Oh.” Silence stretched between them, and Harry tried to think of anything else they could do to get somewhere safe. Ravincal was almost as far west as you could get in Sirene, and with Meja now closed, they had essentially found themselves pinned between the stone walls of Meja, the cliff face, and the Durvinna army. All that remained was the land of Sunan, harsh and arid in most places, and as large as any two of the other three kingdoms combined. Chances of finding somewhere safe to go there were slim.

“We can talk about what to do later.” Bridget cut in, “For now, we had best get some food into you. I’ll go get Aranelle to make you something you can eat without sitting up.” She stood to go, but before she could take more than a single step, Harry called out to her.

“Are you alright?” He said. She looked down at him and smiled.

“I’m alive and so are you. It’s the best I’ve been in days.” And she walked away.

Harry stared up at the tent covering, looking at nothing. He needed to make plans, but what could he do and where would they go? A dark melancholy lurked in the back of his mind and echoed those same haunting words, “you failed.” I will not fail her again. I cannot fail her again. With that he closed his eyes and darkness took him. The dreams he had that day were not pleasant ones.