I need to figure out how to make this thing work, Kendrick thought, or we’re all about to die here very soon!

He turned over the waymaker in his hand, looking for a switch or button or lever or some kind of mechanism to activate it. It was smooth all around, with the exception only of the glowing, geometric etchings on its faces. For all he knew, it could have been just a decoration or a nightlight.

But if what Bellara said was true, it was their only hope of escape.

“Dark Lord of Lords, True Master of the Three Realms, I welcome you to the Ecumene that is ripe for your taking!” Zorgen screamed eagerly over the roaring of the open Rift. Out of the corner of his eye—Kendrick couldn’t help but watch for any signs that they might be noticed again—he saw the sorcerer prostrate himself before the colossal hooves of Urobius, the god of the Underworld. “Oh, Great One, I am not worthy to look upon your hooves!”

The monstrous being angled his head down to look at his puny worshiper. “NO...” His calm voice shook the landscape, creating clusters of echoes and sending vibrations through Kendrick’s bones. Shit, I feel like I’m at a... a concert... A concert? I remember. No time to think about that now! Kendrick shuddered to think what that giant would sound like if he escalated.

“Sahni, I know you’re both in pain,” said Kendrick. “I need you to tell me how this works so we can get out of here. Okay?”

“Oh, Dark Lord Urobius,” Zorgen went on, “may I be so bold as to ask you, Your Mercilessness, what I may do in service of your great conquest? Where would you have me go, God of Darkness? What would you have me do?”

Kendrick got a good look at Urobius, whose size boggled the swordsman’s mind. Urobius stood almost as tall as the Rift, many times taller than any being or even any building Kendrick had ever seen in the Ecumene. He looked somewhat like a demon with all the features exaggerated—the horns were thicker and more twisted, the beard longer, the muscles more unsettlingly sinewy, and the god had four eyes, an extra pair above the other. His mouth was full of multiple rows of sharp teeth each taller than a person.

“FOR YOU... MY MOST LOYAL SERVANT... IN THE ECUMENE,” Urobius boomed, “I GIVE YOU THE HONOR... OF GUARDING THE UNDERWORLD... WHILE I AM AWAY...”

Zorgen looked up. “My Lord?”

Without another word, Urobius stooped down closer to Zorgen, extending a single gargantuan finger with a hideously jagged claw at the tip. On this claw, Urobius impaled Zorgen, who screamed in confused agony as the god turned and threw him unceremoniously through the very portal that the sorcerer himself had created.

A moment later, three more monstrous heads, each belonging to unholy beasts about half the height of Urobius, poked out of the pitch blackness of the Rift. They skulked out of the dimensional doorway behind the Dark Lord and created smaller tremors with their footsteps.

“Kendrick,” Sahni groaned. She could barely keep her eyes open any longer. “Touch me...”

Kendrick put a hand on her shoulder. “What, Sahni? What do I do?”

“Touch me... and Bellara...”

“And?”

“Do it...”

Kendrick set the waymaker on Sahni’s stomach, placing a hand on her hip while he reached out his other hand and touched Bellara’s shoulder. “Okay, done.”

“Do you... have her... too? Promise?”

“Yes, I’m touching her! I promise! Now what? Sahni, we need to—”

“Ahmni... vec... to...”

BOOM!

A bright white light, then nothing.

***

A concert.

There were people all around him. Bright lights flashing. He could feel the bass of the sound system thrumming in his chest.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and saw her again—the blond-haired young woman with freckles and thick-rimmed glasses. She smiled. It looked like she was saying something, but he couldn’t hear her.

I couldn’t hear her then, either, could I? This is a memory—a real one.

***

Reality snapped back into place all around them.

Kendrick’s surge of terror and adrenaline sharpened his decision-making. He lay Sahni down on the dirt road where they found themselves, yanking off his tunic and ripping it with his bare hands. He noticed then that the Psysword was sheathed—he didn’t even remember doing that.

Please work, he thought. Please, I need this to work. Fuck, why am I so useless at this? Why didn’t I do this sooner? Please make it through this! Both of you!

“Stay with me, Sahni,” Kendrick told her calmly but firmly. “You’re going to make it. I’m wrapping a tourniquet and we’re going to elevate your arm. Ready? Three, two...” He used part of his tunic to tie a tight tourniquet at the base of her half-severed arm. Please let that stop the bleeding. He grabbed a rock from the side of the road and placed it under Sahni’s arm to elevate it off the ground. “I’m here, okay? Just helping Bell now. You’re doing great.” Sahni stared blankly at the red sky of dusk.

“Leave... me...” Bellara groaned.

He shook his head matter-of-factly. “No one’s leaving anyone.”

“Leave me... save her... Kendrick, I’m... serious... I promised—”

“Apply pressure with me.” He grabbed both of her hands and pressed them against her wound—she groaned in pain. “I’m sorry. I know this hurts. You need to apply pressure for me and hold it, okay?” Despite her protests, Bellara did as she was told. He snaked the other ripped part of his tunic under her lower back and tied it tight around her midsection. She winced hard. She’s still reacting—that's a good sign, right? “I’m going to try to get help now, okay? Or call for help. Stay right there and I won’t be far.” ‘Stay right there?’ You damn idiot. As if they’re going to get up and run—they're dying! Why are you so bad at everything you do? You probably killed them with your own incompetence!

Couldn’t kill the bad guy. Couldn’t save your friends. You can’t do anything right. It should have been you lying on that battlefield dying while they escaped. They never should have even summoned you here.

“HELP!” Kendrick cried out. “Healer?! We need a healer! They’re hurt bad! Somebody HELP!” He pictured a wandering band of witches and wizards emerging from the woods around them. ‘By Aldiel, they are hurt! Worry not, lad. We'll take it from here!’ He pictured them so hard that he thought he could will them into existence—but they never came.

He ran around the woods near the road, continuing to scream for help that wouldn’t come. With each step he took and each word he hollered into the empty forest, he wondered if it was Bellara’s last breath, or if Sahni had finally lost consciousness for the last time. He felt so distraught with terror and panic and trauma that he wanted to jump out of his own skin.

No time for that, he told himself. Think of something else. Dammit... Aldiel? Can you hear me thinking? The big guy from downstairs is real, so I have to imagine you’re real, too. Please, I’m begging you, find us a way out of this! I’m not a wizard! I can’t heal people or teleport them anywhere. If it weren’t for that waymaker, we’d all be dead already, but they’re fading fast. I’m begging for somebody, ANYBODY—

Just then, he heard a faint clopping of hooves. A man on horseback was hauling a cart of produce down the dirt road—he pulled back on the reins to come to a stop. “What’s all this?” he asked. “I don’t want any trouble, now.”

“Thank Aldiel,” Kendrick said, and he would have found that strange in any other non-critical situation. “Sir, we need your cart. They’re hurt badly. They need a healer. Are you a healer?”

The man shook his head. “Just hauling some of my harvest to market. What’s happened here?”

“They’re witches—badly hurt fighting Zorgen. I don’t have time to explain. I need to use your cart—I need to find them a healer!” Kendrick noticed the eight-spoked pendant around the man’s neck.

“Son, I can lead you in prayer over your fallen friends here, but there’s not much else I can do. You’d be wise not to mingle in any of that magic—”

Thuuum. Kendrick aimed the Psysword at the man’s neck, stopping just short of his chin. “I am not asking. Give me the cart. Or I will take it from you.”

The farmer chuckled nervously. “Why, you’d kill a son of the Skyfather—”

“I’d trade your life for either one of theirs in a heartbeat. Get out of here. NOW. You have to the count of three to decide if you want to live. Get me?!” Kendrick didn't think he had this sort of outburst in him, but it served him well.

The man disembarked the horse and started grabbing his produce by the armful and dropping it on the dirt road. Kendrick crouched down and lifted Bellara first.

“W-… th-…” Bellara murmured nonsense, barely clinging to consciousness. Kendrick could see some blood had seeped through the tourniquet but not as much as he feared.

“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry, Bell. One, two...” He grunted with the effort of lifting her from the ground and into the cart. Sahni had to be carried as well—she was heavier, but whether it was his own strength, the heat of the moment, or the grace of Aldiel, Kendrick was able to safeguard them both in the cart.

The thought of thanking the man crossed his mind. Then he remembered that if the cultist had had his way, they’d be praying over the two girls’ dying bodies right now. He wordlessly got on the horse and rode.

The sun went down ahead of him. Dusk slipped into darkness and his body was moving on its own. Fighting. Slashing. Killing. Imp screeches, jinn howls, demon roars. That night, they arrived in a town where another battle was already underway. The rest of the night was a blur.

By sunup, he didn’t even know if he was still alive. Bellara. Sahni. I don’t even know where we are. Please tell me you made it.

I didn’t know what else to do.

***

“You’re waking up,” said a voice. “Here. Try some water.”

Kendrick felt cool water flowing past his lips—he sat up sputtering and then coughing profusely. When he went to wipe his chin, he felt the sting of his chapped lips. “Hey,” he rasped. “Who...”

“Easy does it, soldier,” the voice answered. It was a man's voice. When he sat up, he saw a slender, platinum blond-haired man wringing water out of a cloth. He looked to be slightly older than Kendrick but not by much. “Good to see you’re finally awake. I guess you needed the rest.” Upon closer inspection of his daintier voice and pointed ears, Kendrick realized he was looking at an elf.

“Oh,” was all Kendrick said, hunching forward and flexing his hands. “Ow.” The meat of his palms and fingers were covered in blisters, some cracked, some bleeding. It hurt to move his hands at all. “Where... are they?”

“The witches?” The elf gave him a tired, almost distracted look, and Kendrick nodded. “I did everything within my power to save them, you know. Those were fatal wounds they had.”

Kendrick stood despite the pain shooting through his entire body. “No. No, they can’t...”

“I had to put them in that house with the gabled roof right there. Otherwise their bodies would have been obliterated in that demon attack last night.” Kendrick barely had any strength left in him, his body ached, he was almost delirious from all that had happened, but this was the moment where it became too much for him to bear.

Bellara... Sahni... I failed you both forever. You trusted me, you put your faith in me to stop this nightmare and I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t even save the lives of my two best friends in the Ecumene, let alone anyone else. And now I have to live with your blood on my hands until the Underworld finally catches up and kills me, too.

“Did they...” He stared off into the distance at nothing in particular. “Did they... say anything...”

“Not yet.” The elf hung a wrung-out garment on a line to dry. “They nearly died. I imagine they’ll be quiet for some time while they begin the healing process.”

“What? They’re alive?” The elf nodded. “What the f—… You s—... You... Why did you—”

“I never said they weren’t. You never asked!”

“But ‘fatal wounds’ and ‘you did everything you could’ to save them? Why did you phrase it—”

“They were and I did. And it worked!” The elf furrowed his neatly manicured eyebrows. “You’re welcome, by the way!"

“Sorry.” Kendrick smiled and his chapped lips twinged—he didn’t even care. “Thank you. Thank you so much! I—I’m gonna go—”

“Go ahead. Go to them. Just don’t make too much noise.” The elf smiled pleasantly and waved goodbye for the time being.

Kendrick ran to the indicated house as fast as his sore legs would carry him. He flung upon the door, ran through the open-style house to the singular enclosed room in the back. Two makeshift beds made of straw sat on opposing sides of the room.

In one bed, Bellara, snoring faintly on her back. In the other, Sahni, also lying on her back, fidgeting in her sleep.

His eyes watered. Everything that happened at the Rift be damned, this victory alone would be enough to sustain him for the foreseeable future. They were still alive. Sahni’s injury still turned his stomach—he could only imagine her physical pain and mental anguish—but she was alive, and so was Bell, and he’d get to hear their voices again and hopefully fight alongside them again, too.

Zorgen, he thought maliciously. You didn’t get even half of what you deserved. Brutally killed and tossed aside like trash by the very object of the deranged sorcerer’s worship—even this was too kind of a fate in Kendrick’s mind.

But he’d have other opportunities for revenge. Now it was time to celebrate, at least for a moment.

“Thank you,” Kendrick said again, more genuinely this time, as he approached the elf hanging laundry outside. “My name’s Kendrick, by the way. Bellara is the red-haired witch you saved. The other one’s name is Sahni. We all owe you.”

“My name is Tanathil,” the elf replied, “and Kendrick, I would consider us more than even.”

“Why’s that?”

Tanathil cocked an eyebrow and smiled, keeping his eyes on his work while he talked. “Trying to be modest? Or do you not remember the battle last night?”

Kendrick looked down at his blistered hands again. “I guess not.”

“Two demons, nine jinn—last I checked, that is—dozens of imps, and too many shades to count. They all met their ends last night thanks to you and that elegant blade of yours. Without you, I never would have stood a chance, and this whole place would just be a memory on old maps. You showed great courage and stamina. Oh, if I were a hundred years younger...”

“A hundred? How old are you, exactly?”

“It’s impolite to ask an elf their age.” Tanathil took a blood-soaked rag and dipped it into a basin of water, scrubbing and wringing it several times, and then washed it in another basin. “I don’t know if I’ve ever heard someone so desperate for help. You bruised my arm quite severely when you first found me, I should add.” He brandished a pinkish-purple mark on his hairless forearm.

“Ouch. I’m sorry.”

The elf shrugged. “I know it was an accident, and too small to warrant healing in times like these. But I could tell how much they both meant to you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all lucky to have each other.”

Kendrick looked around and truly took in his surroundings for the first time since arriving here the previous night. Smoke rose from the remnants of a few extinguished fires, and some of the buildings had collapsed and lay strewn about in pieces—but it looked like some of it had already been this way for a while. It was all very quiet. “Where are we, exactly? And where is everyone else?”

“This was once the village of Sylcourt,” sighed Tanathil. “A bit over 300 sunstrides from that awful mess in the Valley. Sylcourt was never a bustling city like you’d find in Varyngard, not even a sizeable Kanthian town, but it once belonged to a few dozen individuals who called it home, and it was good enough for them.” The elf shook his head, hanging another rag to dry. “The wise ones left a long time ago for Varyngard. In the intervening years, the heroic ones died fighting those monsters. I’m neither. I guess that’s why I’m the last one here.”

Kendrick crouched next to Tanathil, grunting with the strain as his sore legs quivered. “Well, I don’t know who told you some nonsense like that, but you were the hero we needed last night. I begged Aldiel to save them and I guess the answer was yes. My blade could reach the sky and it still wouldn’t have done anything to save them, you know? But you did.” Kendrick took a chance and patted the elf on the back. “There are different kinds of heroes, you know.”

The elf rewarded him with a muted smile, as if to suggest he didn’t fully believe the kind words, but appreciated them nonetheless. “Well, that is very compassionate of you to say, Kendrick. I would like to invite all three of you to join me on the road west once your friends are in traveling condition.”

“The road west?”

Tanathil nodded, raising his eyebrows in a what-an-obvious-question way. “Well, yes. Ideally, we would leave today, but your friends might not be sufficiently healed until tomorrow. We’ll need to hurry if we’re to make it in time for the evacuation barges to Varyngard.” Kendrick’s mind spun with a brand-new problem—or just the resurgence of the same one that had been looming all along. “The eclipse is only days away. By the time the Dark Lord reaches this far inland on Kanthos, it’ll be everyone for themselves. And I may have stayed stubbornly before, but I intend to be long gone before that happens.”

Does he even know that the Urobius is already here? I may need to hold onto that little secret for the time being—he has to finish healing those two before we let him go anywhere. Maybe I can convince him to team up with us, too—healers will be needed as ever with what we’re up against. “Oh, that’s kind of you to invite us, but I don’t know if we’d want to leave with everything that’s at stake. I know I’m eager to get back into the fight—or, uh, you know, fight what’s coming as soon as possible. I know my friends feel the same way!”

“Speak for yourself,” Bellara groaned. She appeared in the open doorway of the house, slouching and clutching her abdomen. “I will never... fight again.”