The path to Spikewrist was as knotted and gnarled as the blackened trees which pressed against it.

While she welcomed the thickening wall of dormant vegetation for blocking much of the cold wind, there was an oppressiveness about it that made her stomach clench. As though they still carried the bitterness of having been scorched by the fierce magics unleashed in the Godwars.

Speckled with ice and their trunks cracked or ripped open, the trees evoked thoughts of death and the elf soon found herself struggling to keep her feelings bottled as she constantly thought about how eerily similar Talek’s life had been to theirs. How he’d ended it with a gaping wound and burning scars.

Shivering, Nysta nudged her horse forward despite its nervous whinny. She kept her gaze firmly on the path ahead as she searched for any sign of Talek's killers, fully aware that snow had likely concealed their passing.

The Deadlands was a place where the only law to be had was that of survival. It was for this reason that the elf kept a steady, but easy pace. She had no doubt the men she was pursuing would do the same.

She figured they'd believe they had nothing to fear of retribution, so they wouldn't be expecting anyone to follow. No law out here would hunt them down for the murder of a cripple.

Her eyes narrowed to slits and her knuckles whitened around the horse's tether as she fought the urge to push the beast into a gallop.

“The trees are creepy as shit,” the spellslinger said suddenly. His voice shocked her for a moment, and she realised she'd almost forgotten he was there. “You kind of expect them to come alive and start eating you. They're so twisted and evil looking. Worse than trolls. I hate trolls. You ever see a troll?”

“Magic,” Nysta said. She kneaded her eyes with her knuckles to ease the tension behind them. “Wasn't just Rule and Grim who fought here. Rule's clerics and Grim's deathpriests fought here, too. This is what happens when you unleash your magic. You fuck everything up.”

He whistled through his teeth. “Must have been a cunt of a fight,” he said. Paused, frowning at her back. “You don't like mages, do you?”

“Any reason I should?”

“I guess not. We're not the most adorable types, I guess. And I've gone through villages which would happily stone me if they thought they could get away with it. But you still sound more bitter than most. It sounds personal.”

She rolled her shoulders and rubbed at the scar on her cheek. It felt like it was burning up and the elf wanted to tear at it with her nails and make it bleed.

Instead, she forced herself to drop her hand to her thigh and kept her gaze sweeping across the path ahead. Felt numb as the memories returned from where they lay in a shallow pool under the surface of her mind.

“Was a few years ago. We heard rumours,” she said dully. “Teams of Grey Jackets had infiltrated the Inner City.”

The spellslinger raised an eyebrow. “Grey Jackets? Sorry, I haven’t heard of those. What are they?”

The elf grunted. “An army of Ruleist fanatics from the kingdom of Leibersland. More like cultists than soldiers, but better equipped than most Caspiellan elite forces.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “They mostly work in infiltration and sabotage.”

“And they got into your Inner City? They must be good. It's hard enough for a Fnord like me to get into the city, let alone a Caspiellan.”

“Lostlight has changed, spellslinger,” she spat into the sluggish wind again. Thought her spit may have turned to ice before it touched earth. “With Grim fallen, the guilds have gotten more political. Everyone wants to rule. Some have even begun to openly eye the crown. They're like ferrets in a sack these days. Some have it in their thick heads that Rule can give them what they want. Add to that, the Grey Jackets are recruiting. And they're promising forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness?” Chukshene snorted. “Forgiveness for what?”

“For being Tainted. Seems Rule might overlook the fact we're not human, if we're willing to submit. There's more to it, of course. But we never found out what. Only that the Grey Jackets are preaching, and even some orks are listening.”

“Orks?” his voice rose incredulously. “That's got to be bullshit. Who'd believe anything Rule promised? He killed Grim. His own brother!”

“And his sister,” she reminded him.

At mention of the goddess who'd fallen centuries before Grim, the mage shrugged. The goddess Veil had always been closer to the elfs than the other races. It was her closeness to the elfs which Rule used as an excuse to kill her. That she herself was Tainted.

“Sorry,” he said. “I always forget her.”

“Lostlight was her city. It’s said she designed it herself down to the last brick in every sewer. It's why we never retreated beyond the Great Wall. Too much pride? Or too fucking stupid to let things go? Doesn't matter much now, I guess. Not many remember her name anymore outside an inn. And the tales they tell are usually of her lost armies. What happened to them when she fell. The story of The Seven Lords of Endless Dark. Gaket and the Lichspawn. The Man Called Mercy. How, one day, they'll rise again and save us all from Rule. Just legends. Stories for children and drunks. In other words, bullshit. Doesn't take a genius to see it's too late now.”

“Especially after Grim fell,” he murmured.

“Grim's fall had nothing to do with it. Lostlight was lost a long time ago. We never cared as much about the Dark Lord. What did he ever give to us? He's a Fnordic god. Besides, Grim and Rule always hated each other. One of them was bound to die in the end,” she said. “Only way it could go. I figure if Grim could have, he'd have killed Rule first. But that ain't how it ended up. Now Rule wants to see us destroyed. It ain't easy to fight a god. Some say we shouldn't even try. But others say we have to because he promised the world to humans. To your kind. Far as I'm concerned, I don't give a shit one way or the other.”

“My kind?” Chukshene growled. “Humans around these parts are hardly my kind. This far south, most of them are Caspiellans anyway. At best, they're halfbreeds and bound to hold sympathies in a Ruleist direction. Like that guy back there whose chest you ripped open. But you come north, Long-ear. You come north and see what the Fnords think of Rule's promise. Better still, write it on a fucking wall and watch us piss on it. We'll never bend to Rule, no matter what forgiveness he offers. He'll have to kill us all. And even then, we'll keep fighting him.”

“If you say so, spellslinger,” she ducked under an overhanging branch and waved a hand dismissively. “Any case, we heard the Tolmek'Jadean had made a deal. Didn't believe it at first. Who'd think any guild would try assassinating the King himself? We could have gone in, of course. Taken out the Tolmek. Maybe got a few Grey Jackets as dessert. But Jutta's a greedy old fuck. He wanted them all. So we let them in. Let them make it as far as the palace. Then, in one swoop, the Musa'Jadean took the Tolmek while we took the rest. Was a simple plan. Bound to fuck up when you think about it.”

“What went wrong?”

“The Grey Jackets split up. There's three roads leading to the palace. Most of them took the middle, but they were just fodder. Bunch of cultists playing at soldier. Figuring their faith could make them invincible, they died quickly. But I was on the east wall. I saw the fifteen soldiers heading up the left path. And the mage forking off to the right. The soldiers were armed to the teeth. More mail than a dwarf stronghold. They'd dropped their cloaks to show off their colours. They knew they were going to their death, but they'd sworn to take Jutta with them. Reckon they were some of the best the Jackets had, so they had an even chance of doing it. There I was, up on the wall. A choice to make. Take the soldiers. Or the spellslinger. I had a choice. The easy or the hard,” she felt the shame bubbling in the back of her neck. Felt his eyes on her, but kept her face against the freezing wind scraping the heat from her cheeks. “I took the easy path.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“I wouldn't agree. Attacking a mage is no easy thing.”

“That's why I took the soldiers.”

He nearly fell off his horse. “You what? On your own? Fifteen?”

“Was a tough fight,” she admitted grimly. Rubbed at the scar again, unable to leave it alone. “It's where I got this. Last one stuck his sword in my face. Guess I was lucky. Nearly took my eye. I’d signalled he was there and figured someone else would deal with him. Didn't count on him getting all the way to the throne room. He must've been good. He went through four of Jutta's mages and a deathpriest. Hardly broke a sweat.”

“Shit.”

“Talek was right there. Always at the King's side. He stood in front of Jutta and faced the spellslinger. Was hit three times by magefire. But he ignored the pain and charged. Killed the bastard. Split him right up the middle.”

“Fuck,” Chukshene's fingers were white as he clutched his grimoire. “Three times? Grim's balls, he must have been one tough son of a bitch.”

She nodded. The pride she felt for her husband was tempered by the shame she felt for her failures. Her eyes burned but she clenched her jaw and felt her teeth grip each other hard. When she spoke, her voice was through tight lips. “When it was over, the mage was dead. Talek was horribly burned. I heard his screams from the other side of the palace. If I'd chosen to take the spellslinger as I should've...”

“That's stupid,” he said. “You did more than your fair part by the sound of it. And Talek was a guard. That's his job. To protect the King. And he did it. Well, by your account. What could be more honorable than that? If you'd gone after the mage, there's nothing saying he wouldn't have melted your ass off and you'd have died and the same fucking thing would've happened to Talek anyway. Blaming yourself for it is ridiculous.”

“It's the truth,” she said simply. “I could have prevented it.”

“How?”

“I don't know. But I know the reason I didn't try.”

“Why?”

The elf looked at him. “I was afraid.”

The words were colder in her ears than the breath of Winter whipping through the trees. She could feel echoed of the fear which had riveted her to the spot those years ago. Left her struggling to decide which path to take. And which, finally, led her away from the sight of the white-robed mage wading up the right path, his hands glowing brightly with power.

“Afraid? Of a Ruleist mage and more than a dozen troops?” Chukshene swatted a few thin twigs hanging low as he passed, though his gaze firmly held hers. “Who the fuck wouldn't be? If it were me, I'd have shat myself and run in the other fucking direction!”

“But I'm not you,” she said, brushing her fingers against a few of the knotted rags in her hair. “I should've chewed that fucking spellslinger up and spat his fucking bones out on the courtyard for the dogs to fight over. It's what I was trained to do.”

“You're being too hard on yourself,” the spellslinger said. His shoulders slumped a little and he tapped his grimoire a few times before speaking again. “We've all had to make choices in the grip of fear. Me, I was at Ghostfear Keep nine years ago when the Great Wall was breached. If you think I look stupid now, you should've seen me then. A pimple-faced apprentice clinging to my master's dick like it was a fucking lifeline. The Dark Lord had fallen only a month before. Everyone was running in every which fucking direction. No one knew who to fight, or whether we should even try. The Black Blades broke through Doomgate and tried taking the Keep. We were surrounded for five days until orks from Brokebone arrived and took back the gate. Pushed them back through the wall. So, it ended okay. But we didn't know at the time reinforcements were on their way. Didn't know if we even had a reason for fighting other than survival. I guess, when it comes down to it, there aren't many other reasons to fight. No reasons worth shit anyway. The Black Blades had three mages and a cleric. All we had were my master and me. And what good was I? I was still struggling to read a spell, let alone cast one. And there I was, the only fucking thing between three Ruleist mages and the men who depended on us.”

“It's not the same,” Nysta insisted. “You didn't have to make a choice.”

“No,” he agreed. “I didn't. I had to make a million. Every fucking day. Choice after choice. Do I bother to put up a fucking ward here, or there? Or, because I'm too fucking tired, do I just forget one of them? And guess what, Long-ear? I forgot more than one. I forgot seventeen of the fuckers. I remember that exact number because every time I forgot, they cut through the walls and killed dozens of men. Others were horribly mutilated. The lucky ones died later. So, you could say I'm responsible for more than a few hundred deaths in one way or another. But I don't sit around snivelling about it. Know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I did my fucking best. And that's that. I'm not Grim. I'm not a fucking god. I did my best, and no amount of fucking crying in the wind is going to bring those soldiers back. They died, Long-ear. But without me, many more would have died. You reckon choosing to attack the soldiers was the weaker choice? Well, for me, it's fucking impressive. Fifteen armed men? In armour? Fuck that shit. Even now, with what I know, they'd still probably cut me to ribbons. And I'm sure it wasn't as easy as you make it sound,” he rubbed his hands together and struggled to keep his blanket from falling to the ground.

She toyed with one of the strips of cloth in her hair. Looked at it. The fragment had a small spot of blood on the corner. She remembered the feel of the sword ripping into her cheek.

At the time it went in, she thought she was dead.

Thought the blade had gone through her mouth and into her brain.

But she was lucky. He'd slipped in a sodden patch of gore and died hard, choking on A Flaw in the Glass. The joy she'd felt coursing cleanly through her veins as his life fled was swiftly erased when she heard the first scream.

Talek's scream.

And she'd run. So fast. But she couldn't run fast enough. Leaping the small courtyard wall. Sliding through the shattered remains of the palace's gates.

Seeing the bodies of Talek's men sprawled like roasted pigs.

Blood everywhere.

Stepping on something wet. Looking down in horror at strips of melted flesh flayed from his body.

Talek. Writhing as magefire consumed him.

Still screaming.

And at his feet, the mage she'd figured someone else would kill. Well, now they'd killed him. Only, the wounds left would scar not only her husband, but her soul.

Time and time again she dreamt the dream of running that race. Running until she woke, lungs seared and throat raw from screaming.

Angrily, the elf scrubbed at the fresh tears threatening to burn the corners of her eyes. “You don't know shit,” she growled.

“Actually,” he leaned back, balancing lazily on the horse. “I know shit when I smell it. And it smells pretty fucking bad coming from you. You're feeling sorry for yourself. Now, I understand you feeling like shit because your husband was cut down by a bunch of assholes. Understand you want revenge and all that. But this self pity? I don't get it. It isn't you. Or is it? I misjudge you, Long-ear? That tough exterior of yours, is it all for show? You actually all gooey in the middle? A whining emotional – dare I say it? - little girl pretending to be something she's not?”

Her hand trembled in fury, hovering over Go With My Blessing. An inch away from tearing it free and sending the blade streaking through the air to ventilate his head.

“Reckon you should quit flapping your mouth now,” she said, her voice dropping through the air like chips of glass.

“You do, do you?” the spellslinger sat straighter, grabbing a fistful of mane to keep from falling. “Truth is always hard to swallow, right? You thought you'd get pity from me? Maybe I'd see you as a damaged little waif just trying to make her way? Well. I've got news for you, Long-ear. You're not the only one who had a shit life and got fucked for it. You're not the only one who lost someone. But seems to me you've two choices in life. You can either swallow that self pity, or keep spitting at yourself in the mirror. Which one are you going to do?”

Go With My Blessing was cool in her hand as her fingers squeezed around the handle. The snarl in the back of her throat, however, died quickly as she fought for and won control.

Her eyes flashed in his direction before she shot her gaze back to the path twisting through the army of lifeless trees. Caught the smell of something sour on the wind and wrinkled her nose. Her fingers loosened their grip on the tether.

“Might be right,” she allowed through tight lips. “But you want to be careful, spellslinger. I ain't in the mood for any kind of intervention. So shut it, uh?”

“That's it, girl,” he sighed. “Keep spitting. But it's your face you're getting wet. And all that venom's likely to eat through it quicker than a fireball. Might be a bright side, though. At least you'd have an excuse for being ugly. Although, you'll have to wear a mask to stop frightening children. If you don't wear one already.”

The elf scratched the palm of her hand and allowed the corner of her lip to curl dangerously up toward the scar.

An emotion she couldn't identify, but which was akin to both fear and excitement, sliced neatly up her guts before drilling warmly into her skull.

“I got no regrets,” she said. “Now, if you've finished playing with words, spellslinger, you might like to open that book of yours to reveal a different kind of truth, if you get me?”

“What? Nysta, I was only joking,” he paled, awkwardly fumbling with his grimoire and nearly dropping it into the snow.

Realising he'd mistaken her meaning, the elf shook her head. Gave him a firm glance. “Mean it's time for a duet, not a duel. You could be right. Maybe I ate it all and spat it out. But we got no time to chew on doubts right now. So you keep your advice for the fellers in Doom's Reach and summon up some of that old black magic,” she spat as she powered off the horse to hit the ground running. Slapped her hand to Entrance Exam and sent the slim blade screaming through the trees with an efficient underarm throw. “Because out here, we do it my way.”