“You look terrible,” Elisha said. “But we need to get moving. I’m not sure I hit them hard enough.”

I must have been hallucinating. The stable girl stood above me, holding an oar like a staff. She started undoing the buckles of the thick leather straps which held me to the table. I had not known what a favor those straps were doing me, as when she undid them, and the numbness wore off and circulation returned, so did the screaming, searing pain. My entire body was on fire with it and I retched over the edge of the table, yellow bile and breakfast. While I did so, Elisha was hard at work going through Carbo’s pockets until she found what she was looking for.

“Come on.”

But I could not walk. I could barely speak. I used my good hand to point to my useless shoulder so she understood. She nodded and threw my good arm around her shoulders and in a display of strength belied by her stature, got me out of the cell under her strength, using the oar as a counter balance. We stopped and she leaned me against the bars of the cell, closed the door, and inserted the key from Carbo’s pocket. The lock clanked into place. We plodded along the corridor towards a staircase I had no memory of descending.

“Can you walk at all?”

“I’ll try,” I croaked. Even the effort of two words was painful.

She eased out from under my arm and I was going to fall before she thrust the oar into my good hand. I could just hold myself up by putting all my weight on the oar. The oar smelled familiar and…comforting. It had a marshy tang of river water about it that reminded me of home.

“Was hanging on the wall back there,” she said, jerking her thumb back towards the cells.

I did not want to linger on the thought of what this was used for in these environs, and decided to be thankful for it keeping me upright. Elisha told me to stay put as she tip-toed up the stairs. She reappeared moments later and motioned for me to follow. There was no way for me to do so without making noise, as the oar thumped on the dungeon stones and dragged across the cracks. Each step up was a trial. One foot, oar, second food push and repeat. I was sweating through my clothes and beads dripped off my forehead even in the cool of the palace dungeon. Elisha showed no impatience, but did not come back to help me move faster. She stayed at the top of the stairs, looking out for our next obstacle. It did not take long for that next obstacle to appear. I could hear them, armor clanking, swords drawn. I did not need to see them to know what was coming for us. It had been a daring attempt by the stable girl and I felt a certain degree of guilt for getting her involved in something like this. They were not likely to treat her with any dignity.

She looked back at me with panic in her eyes. I was using the only weapon we had as a crutch to stay upright and the rest of the King’s Guardsmen were headed towards us. For a moment, I could not imagine how they knew to come, what siren call they were following, but that is only because my ears were still ringing from the beating my skull had taken. Most of the time I was making my way up the steps, Carbo and Ulbrecht were shouting. They had been knocked out, but an oar is not a sword. They were up again and screeching to their comrades. It explained the worried looks on Elisha’s face as I stumped up the steps in slow motion. It had been clear to her for much longer that this rescue was over. In a way, I had to be thankful for my bleary consciousness at that moment. It allowed me to face my death with a degree of calm reserved for those who can already see the light. Healthy, my faculties would have screamed for survival, but I was so beaten down that I could not. I sat down on the steps and let the oar fall. My left arm hung limp at my side and I let the cold stone cool my forehead.

“Thank you,” I said. “For trying.”

“Shut up,” she said, scrambling down the steps and reclaiming the oar.

She was not going to go down without thunking a few more guardsmen heads. Good for her. I spent what I expected to be my final moments enjoying the sensation of cool stone on my aching skull, taking deep breaths of free air, and remembering my father reading to me before bed. I did not want to die, but under the circumstances, I was happy with the way I had lived my life. There was nothing to be ashamed of.

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Elisha held her ground two steps from the top, wielding the oar with an amazing deftness for a weapon so new to her hands. She tossed it back and forth between her palms as the clanking armor and pounding footsteps drew nearer. And then they were there. Her choice of last stand was admirable, as they could only get at her one at a time, and for a few moments it seemed like she might give them some trouble. The first comer she disarmed by bringing the oar down hard on his wrist. He shrieked and dropped his sword before being pushed out of the way by his comrades. The second swung and Elisha’s blocked, holding the oar with two hands above her head. The guardsman’s sword scored deep into the oar’s lacquered surface. She pulled it free and swung. She aimed for his head. His sword was coming down at the same time, aiming to split her skull in two. She would fall backwards towards me, spurting blood but no longer conscious, a proud ending.

The sword hovered in the air for an impossible length of time, the oar inches to the right of the guardsman’s ear when…a piece of the sword disappeared. A perfect square, symmetrical, just above the hilt; it was no longer there. I believe the state of my body and mind allowed me to see the flip in slow motion when it must have happened in the blink of an eye. But next the chunk of his hand which gripped the sword was gone. The other guardsmen behind him began to dematerialize one block at a time. The blocks did not float away or fade or flicker at the edges. They were there and then they were not. The guardsmen were like a fishing net with a sharp blade running through it. And then they were gone. No evidence they had ever been. No dropped swords or gloves or helmets. An empty corridor at the top of a staircase. We did not go look, but I assumed Carbo and Ulbrecht had met a similar fate.

We hobbled, my good arm back over her shoulder, as far as I could go, which was not very far. The entrance hall to the palace. It was empty. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen, or the throne room, or anywhere else. There were no more servants, valets, knights, guardsmen, or nobles. We were alone in the shell of what had once been a palace. Elisha disappeared for a time, bringing the oar with her, and came back with a bundle of food tied in a cloth. We ate rolls and cold meats and pears in relative silence. We passed a bottle of wine back and forth. What was there to say? She left again and came back with a bundle of straw and some wood. All decorum forgotten, we built a fire right there in the entrance hall and sat around it. My body could not hold out long after eating and I passed out. When I woke up much later, I would find that Elisha had put a pillow under my head and blanket over my broken body.

I woke from a gentle shaking. Again, my eyes opened to Elisha’s face. The pain was not gone, but food and sleep made it more bearable. I struggled up to a sitting position and drank the proffered water.

“There’s someone coming,” she said.

I was not prepared for any more surprises. I groaned and through great pain was able to stand up. I could walk on my own but I was not sure for how long. We made it to the palace’s massive front doors and walked out. Sure enough, there was someone coming up the zig zagging streets of Singhal, making their way. They were, as far as we could tell, not missing any squares from their body either. Whoever it was, had been unaffected by the rapture. They were in no hurry, walking with purpose at a consistent, unchanging pace. As he got closer, and a ray of morning sunlight illuminated his approach, I recognized my Prince. It seemed only moments had passed since I watched his naked form leave Singhal, and yet also as if I had lived several lifetimes in the interim. He wore simple traveling clothes now, and a beard was beginning to grow on his cheeks.

I remained speechless as he approached. I walked into the cobblestone street to meet him and we embraced. I cried and blood mixed with my tears to run down my face and onto his shoulder.

“You did it then,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t notice anything strange until I got close to the city. They’re gone, aren’t they?”

I nodded, remembering the disintegration of the guardsmen from a past life I had already almost forgotten. He turned, leaving a strong hand on my shoulder and stared at Elisha, unabashed. She stood proud and erect in front of the palace doors, holding the oar.

“You’re still here.”

“I’m still here.”

And I saw for the first time what I had not the day before. What was so obvious, but I was in too much pain to reconcile. Elisha had not dematerialized with the others. She was not of her own time any longer.

“She’ll come with us,” Edouard said.

It was not a question. There was still much work to be done and Edouard was riding a high. He motioned us inside the palace.

“I assume there’s still food in the kitchens. I have much to relate. And I can tell from the look of you two I’m not the only one.”

Edouard laughed at our campsite in the entrance hall. His return was an inflection point for sanity. Elisha and I both snapped out of our shocked trance and joined him at an actual table in the kitchen to hear his story and to share our own.

There was much to share.