Harry rode Morgan as fast as the horse could run through the trees, which wasn’t as fast as he wanted or needed at the moment. He needed to get to the border of Meja, but he couldn’t even tell where they were anymore. He hoped that if they just continued straight west they would run into the main road and they could follow it to the border. Fortunately the ground was firm and the risk of Morgan tripping or sliding was low.

Bridget leaned against the stallion’s neck and clutched furiously, never looking up. She shivered from time to time, and struggled for breath. Harry only paid it a flicker of attention before returning his attention to guiding the horse. I can help her later. Now I just need to get her safe.

After what seemed like hours, they emerged onto the main road linking Sirene to Meja. Hard stone bricks laid into the dirt had been packed down tight over years of travel. Nowadays, the road resembled packed dirt more than a proper road, but it was wide enough for two battalions of soldiers to march past each other without fear of running out of space. This made finding his way much easier, but also left them much more exposed. A single horse with two riders galloping frantically toward the northwest would be an easy thing to spot. Nevertheless, speed was all that mattered, and so Harry urged Morgan down the road.

Goosebumps broke out all over his arm, and Harry knew that they were in danger. He looked ahead and saw there was no patrol incoming. He glanced left and right, and saw nothing, so he finally allowed himself a look behind. Emerging from the woods was a party of ten or so horsemen who all turned and headed northwest. They had caught up, and he couldn’t see the border at all.

Harry gritted his teeth and regretfully pulled Morgan off the road and headed straight west again. The only chance he had was to try and lose them in the woods. Problem was, there were far fewer trees on the western side of the road; hiding there would be much more difficult. But if I can just cut through to the eventual bend in the road, I might be fast enough. That was the plan anyways.

Morgan tromped his way through the thickets, riding on at Harry’s insistence. Abruptly, Morgan slowed and stopped all together. Harry cursed, knowing that he had ridden the horse to exhaustion. If he tried to urge the horse on now, it would just collapse. Briskly, he unloaded his sword, threw on his coat of light quilted armor, and led Bridget by the hand away from the unmoving horse. West, always west, away from the road he ran. He ran dodging branches, guiding Bridget carefully. He could feel her dragging, slowing them down. Twice, she tripped and fell, but still they ran. They ran, until there was nowhere left to run.

The land of Meja was a cold and rocky place, suitable only for the toughest plants and people. Forests were sparse, and thick fatted animals grazed on the exposed grass and weeds. It was also known as “The Stony Heights” due to the cliff wall that stood where beaches might have been in any other part of the world. Harry had no idea how close they were to the border, but the land had clearly been sloping upwards for days. Now, he found himself at the edge of one of those cliffs some fifty feet above the sea. Waves could be heard crashing violently against the cliff face below, and the moisture of the spray could be felt in the updrafts.

Harry turned to run back into the forest, but the mounted soldiers had started to emerge from the trees. Without thinking he stepped between them and Bridget and drew his sword. He expected them to come as quickly as they arrived, at least that way he could try and fight them one at a time. But instead, they spread out to surround them and pin Harry and Bridget between them and the cliff. The men riding the horses wore black uniforms accented with purple especially around the seams, carried spears in their right hands, and each stared down at Harry with his sword drawn practically challenging him to try and escape.

Two of the riders came forward to approach Harry. One was a tall, muscular woman with a scar over her left brow and a spear across her back. A well seasoned mercenary by Harry’s estimation. The other wore a steel breastplate, thick black gloves, and a fine cape. He carried a heavy long sword at his waist and no other obvious weapons. Nobility, most likely, here to claim glory for himself. He had jet black hair and eyes to match, and a smirk that every nobleman seems born with.

“Princess Bridget,” the man called out, “you are not an easy woman to find. I was almost starting to think that you didn’t want to see me.” The soldiers all shared a low chuckle, all except for the mercenary who sat stone faced watching Harry very closely. Damn, she’d be difficult enough to deal with without all these soldiers here to help. What do I do?

The nobleman dismounted and stood to face Bridget as if Harry wasn’t there. “I believe it’s time you came home, Princess. Please, come with me.” Bridget made no response, but shrank further behind Harry. The man crossed his arms impatiently but otherwise said nothing. The mercenary edged her horse a little closer, and Harry was surprised to see the nobleman draw his sword and use it to bar the way in front of the horse. “Return to the castle. I will pay you there.” His voice was flat with an underlying edge. He seemed a man to make good on his threats. The woman looked down at him, eyes narrowing before looking up once more at Harry. She nodded her head almost imperceptibly and turned around and headed back the way they had come.

“I’ll ask you one more time, Princess. Come with me.” He had lowered his sword to a casual stance, but Harry noticed that his grip was still firm. Harry clearly had to reevaluate this man, he was no spoiled noble, but a competent swordsman.

“You won’t lay a finger on her.” Harry growled. The man looked at Harry for what seemed like the first time. His calculating stare sent a chill down Harry’s spine.

“Very well then.” He said, and raised his sword, tip angled straight at Harry’s heart. Harry responded by aiming his tip at the man’s face. The man’s smirk grew, teeth showing in a hungry grin. “Show me what you can do.” And he came at Harry in earnest.

The man in black danced around Harry, probing with half-hearted strikes. Careful and well trained, for a nobleman. Harry took the initiative and came forward with an upward swing. Steel rang on steel as the two of them met in a flurry of blows. Harry fell into the dance and lost himself in the battle. Swords blurred all around him, and he flowed from one motion to another, hypnotized by the chime of swords meeting.

More than once, Harry thought he had found the opening he needed, but when he went to strike the hole was closed and he found himself nearly impaled in return. The man in front of him never seemed to leave an opening that wasn’t meant as bait. I need to break his stance. He gritted his teeth and went for a strong overhead cut. He expected a block and instead felt his sword get caught in a circular motion and swept away again. Acting on instinct, Harry stepped into the motion and drove a fist into the man’s face. The man staggered back a bit and Harry tried to swing his sword to capitalize on the opportunity, but he was too slow. He didn’t relent, attacking again and again, failing to break the man’s defenses. After a counterattack almost ripped out his throat, Harry disengaged and stepped back to catch his breath.

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His opponent had also recovered his position and was poised in a defensive stance. A streak of blood wetted the side of his face, which seemed curled in a half snarl, half grin. Harry meanwhile was panting hard, bringing himself back into a ready stance. I can’t keep this up. I need to end this quickly. The man in black was the first to move and came at Harry once more. The attack came on faster and more ferociously than before. A kick landed in Harry’s stomach, forcing him back, but the attack never slowed. Harry found himself pushed closer and closer to the cliff edge and tried to make a push back to regain lost ground. Endless thrusts and cuts came at Harry and he responded in kind, neither man able to land a crippling blow, and the attack still did not slow. Harry was forced back again, struggling to maintain his balance, and the attack finally slowed. This was his chance, a real opening this time. Harry brought his tip forward and aimed a thrust at the exposed belly of his opponent. The blow landed true, but instead of piercing flesh, the blade stopped dead. Mail. He has a set of chain mail under his clothes.

Then the pain came. The force of the impact forced Harry to double over. Tears welled up, blurring his vision, but he could see the sword sticking through his side. He tried to move, tried to grab the sword and pull it free, but all he could do was collapse to his knees with one hand gripping the steel weakly. The man in black was panting, face haggard and stained with blood, but his sneer had returned. He leaned closer and whispered, “Well fought, knight.” With that, he placed a boot on Harry’s chest, and pushed Harry off his sword and off the cliff.

I’m sorry, Bridget. I couldn’t… protect you…

********

Bridget watched as Harry dueled the man who had been pursuing them. This man had taken everything from her, and now he had found her, presumably to take the last thing she cherished. She should have felt anger, but found only fear in her thoughts. Did he torture them? Did he maim and imprison them? Or perhaps he made them kill each other. What will he do to me? Her mind snapped back to the fight as Harry landed a blow on her parent’s murderer. Well, it was a punch, but a blow all the same. I could try and help, but what can I do? I can’t really do anything. Why do I have to be so useless?

No sooner had her thoughts gotten away from her when the battle once again called her attention, and all she could do was gape at the sword jutting out from Harry’s side. Blood trickled down the wound. Harry! No! Then he was falling off the cliff, dark haired assassin staring down after him. Not him, too! “Well, princess. Ready to go?” The man said. Bridget paid him no mind. How could I let him die for me!? Why couldn’t I save him? Her stomach twisted into knots and she staggered a few steps. The riders began moving toward them, and there was nothing she could do to save herself. Save him. She tried to scream, but no words would come out. Save him. The dark haired man was walking away with his back to her while he cleaned his sword. I can’t save him, but I can join him. Mustering what little courage she could find, she ran straight to the cliff edge and leaped off. She tried screaming out to Harry, but her voice was lost to the wind as she fell.

The water came up suddenly and the force of it made her want to gasp for air. She tumbled through the water and the currents pushed her around threatening to smash her into the cliff wall. She struggled to open her eyes against the torrent, but saw only darkness. Please, just let me find him! No sooner had she thought this than the current faded and she found herself floating in the water with the glowing image of a woman in front of her. She had wide dark eyes and flowing dark hair streaming in semi-random directions pushed by some current that didn’t seem to be present. Her skin was a pale blue and had no clothes to cover any of it. Bridget finally took notice of the fact that this woman had no legs, but instead her blue skin smoothly transitioned into a long fish tail the color of the ocean at high noon.

“Do not fear, young hero of the sea. You can breathe safely here, for I have chosen thee.” It spoke to her with that same melodious voice she remembered hearing back in the storeroom of the castle. Every word seemed to be sung, captivating in how they pressed at all of Bridget’s senses at once.

Bridget took a breath to steady herself, only to realize that she had been breathing underwater. The urge to panic and swim for the surface nearly overcame her, when the woman’s voice came through again. “I have yet need of thee. And thou will have need of me. I am called Meridia, Goddess of the sea, and though the hour grows late, thy deeds shall be great, and help many to be free.”

All Bridget could do was stare at the creature in front of her. The Goddess of the Sea!? Here? I must be dead. Her eyes snapped wide as she realized what she had done and why. “Where is Harry?” She shouted.

“The young knight is wounded but not yet dead. But he will not be strong enough to face what’s ahead.” Meridia sang. “I can give you the power to bring him back, but strength and courage you still lack.”

“I don’t care! I’ll do anything, just save him!” She yelled, then continued in a much softer tone, “Please. He’s all I have left.”

“I grant you what power is mine to give. Go, save your knight. Go, and live.”

A bright flash suddenly blinded Bridget and her body began convulsing. She tried and failed to scream yet again as pain overtook her. She writhed in pain for an endless minute, and wished she hadn’t been so hasty in talking to the goddess. The literal goddess of the sea! Bit by bit, the pain faded and Bridget brought her body back under her control. She opened her eyes expecting to see either blinding light like before, or the dark emptiness of the sea. Instead, she found the entire ocean illuminated, as if every drop of water glowed with the soft light of a firefly. Meridia was nowhere to be seen.

She took a moment to look at her hands, and found her fingernails extended to resemble claws. Looking past her hands, she was startled to see that her legs had been replaced by the same fish tail she had seen on Meridia. Oddly, it didn’t feel odd. She could maneuver and use her tail as instinctually as her lost legs. Power flooded her body, and she was tempted to revel in it and for a moment couldn’t remember why she shouldn’t. Harry! I need to save him! She spun around in the water searching for him, and saw his blood before seeing him, floating limply on the surface. No longer caring about her appearance, she sped off toward Harry. He seemed abnormally light, even for floating in the water. Placing Harry squarely on her shoulders, she held him tight and began swimming south toward the nearest patch of coastline that she could find. With any luck, they might both still survive this day.