-Callia-

  Hearing the fat man talk so flippantly about Dad and hearing his intentions for Mom flipped a switch in me. Getting angry wasn’t something new, especially with a brother like Callen, but this was the first time I felt rage. I didn’t hesitate to grab the deadliest arrow I had and struck with intent to kill. I would’ve kept up my assault, but my instincts went wild with alarms. I weaved away from the frontline and retreated into the northern forests until I was in the clear.

  My heart was pounding from fear. I didn’t know how, but had I slowed for even a moment, I was sure that I would’ve died. I took deep breaths, calming the adrenaline that had spiked, and carefully returned to my post, scanning the length of the river to deny any flanking attempts. I climbed into the upper trees and utilized my trusty camo cloak. I let my mind enter the ‘zone’ as I hyperfocused on my senses; particularly, I kept track of the rangers I had watching various lengths of the river.

  Suddenly the northernmost scout died. It was too far to see, but my senses were certain that the man was gone in the blink of an eye. I pulled a string, triggering movement in a neighboring tree. Our signal to alert the others who had died and where. Barely a moment later an arrow zipped straight through my decoy in that tree. There was no way it wasn’t a knight. Considering my earlier actions and retreat, he was probably here for me.

  Sir Fullart had shared with us what he knew of Sir Rax. Whom we assume was the archer who had shot my leg when I flew into Portten. Sir Rax was specialized in stealth, range, and penetration. He had been ranked third among the knights in the former baron’s service, but in terms of lethality, he was the worst. Exactly the kind of man who would get sent to kill the sniper who had tried killing the baron.

  I activated another wire signal, but this one led back to camp. With a knight deployed here, my job was to assist and survive. I focused my senses north instead of by the river. I suspect that they circled past our watchmen, and that's why our furthest scout was ambushed. Sure enough, I feel the presence of someone whose presence, while blurry and hard to pinpoint, was unmistakable. I break cover and send a scattered volley blindly into the brush. At the same time, I move behind the tree and climb as quietly as possible, shifting position from where they could see me.

  I don’t see what their response to my attack was, but it wasn’t long until an arrow sliced clean through the tree below me. It was followed by more climbing, the trunk inching closer and closer to my position. I fed mana into my anti-projectile necklace just in time as another arrow slipped through the tree. The necklace only managed to erase the tip of the arrow. An unpleasant thunk sounded from my armor as what remained hit my gut, knocking me from the tree. The amulet shattered harmlessly, depriving me of any further protection.

  I desperately wanted to gasp but instead forced myself to be still as I fell and flopped onto the ground violently. I felt my instincts quiet as I lay there acting dead. From the south a burst of activity as Sir Eira burst onto the scene, scattering a dozen arrows into every shadow where they could have shot from. A shadowy figure slipped from a distant tree, letting off another arrow that intercepted the arrow threatening them and flying off towards Sir Eira.

  Sir Eira’s response was much the same except instead of one arrow, they sent three at once. One arrow struck the side of the incoming arrow at the last moment, diverting it enough for them to sidestep the arrow. The other two arced off, trying to cut off the shadows' escape. The hit to the gut had faded enough for me to get my breathing back under control, and I secretly drew my bow, waiting for a chance to rejoin.

  The shadow dived under the rightmost arrow and tried to slink back into cover only to be forced back into action as another volley threatened his location. However, instead of counterfire, the shadow sank into the darkness, disappearing while the ground they had previously been at was shot up with multiple arrows. I felt the shadow flicker, almost like a teleportation, moving over to the shadows of another tree far to Eira’s right.

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  With no time for verbal warnings, I snapped my shot right into the new shadow. I’m rewarded with a startled cry, and Eira snaps towards the sound with their own barrage. The arrows ripped through trees and shadows trying to find their mark. At the same time, Eira quickly hops over next to me while the shadow is distracted from surviving. I tried to lock back onto their position, but now whatever was blurring my perception was being dialed up much higher. Instead of a precise position, I could only vaguely guess their direction.

  That was when the scouts watching the river began to ring their alarms and engage the force of soldiers who were trying to cross the river. A quick check immediately reassured me regarding the situation. The soldiers were unprepared to cross the dangerous rapids, and they clearly hadn’t expected any resistance from our side. They rapidly retreated after the leading soldiers were shot.

  However, that distraction cost me, as the shadow took their chance to forcefully close the distance. They jumped from a nearby tree's shadow, tackling Sir Eira. Eira responded instantly, but the shadow was too fast, scoring a dangerous slash across Eira’s gut. I intervened forcefully, inserting myself between them and catching their knife with mine. Thrusts, slashes, dodges, and blocks. We were a blur of motion, but this was a contest of finesse, speed, and instinct. For a moment it was evenly matched, but it rapidly shifted. The man was unable to keep up with my speed, and I started scoring hits.

  Just like everything Callen made for me, my knife was a runic weapon. Each time it drew blood, it discharged energy like a taser. The damage wasn't significant, but the energy stiffened the man's movements, making it easier and easier to score more hits. My earlier arrow had disabled the man's left arm, and my knife crippled his right. I relentlessly pushed the man back, easily overwhelming his sloppy close-quarters skills. The man desperately broke from my assault, diving towards a shadow, but an arrow ripped through the man’s chest. He fell down helplessly, gaping as his blood spurted from his lips and chest.

  I looked at Eira, who had slumped against the tree. The wound shouldn’t have been critical, but black lines of tainted blood vessels revealed a clearly nasty poison eating at him. I rushed over to the dying shadow archer and demanded.

  “Give me the antidote!”

  All I got was gurgling laughter as the man died choking on his own blood. I stripped the man's gear, searching for anything that might be an antidote.

  “No, NO!” I panic until the man's shoe sole comes loose, revealing a small vial. I rush to Sir Eira, forcing the vial’s contents down their throat, but I can’t hear their heart beating. I was too slow.

  “Damnit!” I pounded the ground with tears in my eyes. Now wasn’t the time. I looked up from Sir Eira and moved with intent to wash my regret with the blood of these bastards. I arrived just in time to see the enemies break. A scattered and disorganized retreat. I notice Callen running over and numbly accept his hug. Tears poured from both of us as the numbing sound of battle left only the raw and bitter aftermath of loss.

  The Baron’s End

  Baron Eldraine was enraged; those savages dared disrupt his speech and cripple one of his knights. He ordered his favorite subordinate to hunt down and kill the archer. Sir Rax, it would serve as the perfect opportunity to redeem himself for failing to stop the flying device from entering Portten. The Baron shifted his attention back to the main battle while his aide sent a detachment of light infantry to try crossing the waters after Sir Rax had plenty of time to deal with any resistance.

  The main battle was a complete humiliation and unacceptable. There was no point in drawing out the siege; this fight would be decided by the knights. Without hesitation he began ordering his knights to strike the defenses, forcing the defenders to confront them. The enemy was conservative in their response, denying him the opportunity to match the fights as he pleased. Still the numbers would be on their side, and while the town knights were more numerous than accounted for, it didn’t matter. His crippled guardian had been blocked by veteran guardsmen; this meant, including himself, they had the edge by two and maybe three, depending on Sir Rax’s situation.

  The baron drew his sword and called his aide to join him. It was time to end this futile resistance. His aide moved forward hesitantly and began casting a spell, but the earth shook, and a mass of small screaming earthkin rushed them from behind. He had no time to call orders or respond before his father, Sir Portten, rushed him, swinging a mighty two-handed greatsword. Eldraine resisted, but it was futile; the months of slacking and extreme indulgence had dulled his movements, and the fat of his body interfered with his previously graceful footwork.

  He didn’t even comprehend as the greatsword severed him in half from neck to groin. He simply flopped to the ground, flailing uselessly briefly before life left his limbs and darkness took him.