The black figure was running towards him, a sword flashing in its hand.

Ryn found he could not move. He just watched it happen, like he was in a nightmare.

A small bang sounded next to Ryn. Elrann had fired her pistol.

But the figure jumped out of the way of the shot, leaping impossibly high above their heads, twisted and spun through the air before landing in a crouch next to them.

The figure swept its leg around in a circle along the ground, knocking Elrann’s legs out from underneath her. She hit the ground on her back with a grunt, and the figure kicked the pistol out of her hand as it stood up, sending the weapon spinning away into the forest, then put one of its feet on Elrann’s neck and began to lean its weight onto her.

Ryn watched all this happen too with barely a moment to take it all in, let alone react.

He had frozen completely, utterly still, in shock.

Mother. Father. Hometown. Nuthea. Sagar. Elrann. It was happening again. Again.

The figure was dressed all in black. Most likely a man, from the shape of him, he had black shoes that turned up a little at the toes, black trousers, a black tunic, a black doublet, black gloves, a black hood, and a black head-scarf that hid most of his face. The only visible parts of his face were his eyes, the dark brown skin that surrounded them, and the top of the bridge of his nose that showed through a horizontal gap in his head-covering. The man’s eyes were grey and from the inward bend of his eyebrows he was scowling.

“Who are you?” said the man in black, in what was definitely a man’s deep, sarcastic voice. “You weren’t on the poster either. Do I get a bounty for collecting you too?”

Elrann sputtered and flailed her hands around from underneath the man’s foot, pawing at his leg and trying to pull it off her neck, but he didn’t budge an inch. She was choking.

Finally Ryn’s spine thawed and he remembered what he could do.

“Argh!” he shouted, and thrust out his hand, propelling a ball of fire through the air towards the man.

The man’s eyes stretched wide and he ducked in time for the fireball to pass over his head. He sprang away from Elrann and ran off into the undergrowth. He was so fast!

Elrann clutched her throat and rolled over to cough violently on the ground. But at least she was breathing. At least she was alive.

“Nuthea!” Ryn cried out involuntarily.

He pelted forwards to where she lay.

“Oh sure, check the princess is safe,” said Sagar, clutching his arm, which was bleeding heavily down the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m fine, by the way.”

“Shut up, Sagar!” Ryn knelt next to Nuthea. She was flat on her back and her eyes were shut. “She’s unconscious!” Blood leaked from her abdomen, staining her white dress a deep crimson, pooling around her on the grass. She couldn’t be dead. Mother. Father. Hometown. Nuthea. “Help! What do we do?!”

“You shut up, pup!” yelled Sagar. “What we do is ready ourselves in case that bastard bounty hunter comes back around for another try at us! We’re no use to the princess if we’re dead! Get up!”

Sagar grabbed him by the arm and wrenched him up roughly. Then he drew one of his curved swords and shoved the hilt into Ryn’s hand.

“Wh-what’s this for?” Ryn didn’t want to take his attention away from Nuthea, but the moment demanded it.

“What do you think it’s for?” Sagar growled, stepping away and scanning the trees, his own remaining weapon up and ready.

“But I can’t fight!”

“Learn. Fast.” The pirate’s eyes darted over to Ryn, then doubled in size as the glint of a blade reflected in them. “Look out!”

Ryn dived to one side on reflex as a black shape moved past him. Steel rang against steel--once, twice, thrice, in quick succession--as the shape and Sagar traded parries, and then the man in black was away into the forest again.

“Damn him,” Sagar panted, “he’s quick! Too quick! Get back to back with me, pup!”

Ryn maneuvered himself so he stood with Sagar’s back to his and held his sword up again, trying not to tremble. Somewhere off to the side Elrann was still coughing. Nuthea still did not move.

“This way we can look out for him in all directions,” said Sagar pressed up behind him. Was Sagar shaking too? “Shout if you see him!”

A twig snapped. But not on the ground.

Ryn jerked his head up.

“Above!” he shouted.

The man in black fell from the canopy above. Ryn got his sword up just in time to avoid being cleaved in two, but the vibration that rippled through his arms as he blocked the blow made them quiver with pain and he nearly dropped his blade. As the man landed his elbow snapped out and caught Ryn a swift strike to the stomach, knocking him winded to the ground.

Ryn got his head up to see the man whirl on Sagar and lock blades, then twist their weapons around in a circle of sliding steel before he flicked his arm out in a sudden, vicious motion and sent Sagar’s sword spinning away through the air. It hit a tree with a clang and then landed uselessly on the ground.

The man held his swordpoint to Sagar’s throat, who held up his good arm and inhaled deeply, eyeing the blade.

“There’s a bigger bounty for bringing you in alive,” came the man’s lilting, oddly quiet tones. “But I am happy to settle for dead. Or maimed.”

Sagar gulped.

A shot sounded.

The man in black hit the forest floor.

Ryn turned to see what had happened.

Elrann was up again, wheezing, her jaw set in a look of cold fury, smoke twisting up from the barrel of her pistol.

“Stupid kufer,” Elrann swore. “Should have finished me off while he had the chance.”