Kunigunde, Bregorn, and their men waited for several hours until they started to hear distant voices.

“Stay put,” Kunigunde whispered with intensity.

Bregorn did not respond. Kunigunde handed Bregorn her rifle and crawled away as quietly as she could.

“String your bows and load your rifles. Stay quiet. Do not fire or loose any arrows until I give the order or you hear me give fire.” Kunigunde whispered as she crawled between and around the dry trench.

It took her about ten minutes to return to the rocks that she left Bregorn at with two other rifles. Shortly after she returned, Bregorn spotted movement from the first cliff down as Kunigunde was loading the three rifles.

“Sister!” Bregorn whispered with a tap so her shoulder.

She stopped and looked out. With haste, she finished loading the rifles and handed one of them to Bregorn with several paper cartridges, which he took and held it to his chest.

“Do not fire until I say so, brother.” Kunigunde said.

Conrad, leading his men, were now completely visible upon the road, walking slowly. Equinox dragged a wagon stuffed with barrels, which Kunigunde assumed was carrying the gunpowder that was taken from the magazine. The Princess’s men outnumbered Conrad’s three to one. Kunigunde thought for a few moments. She rubbed her face with her hand. Behind a larger rock, she slung one of the rifles behind her and readied the other. She closed her eyes and prayed for another few moments:

“Creatrix, have mercy."

She moved to the edge of the rocks. Conrad and his men were now about seventy yards away from the second plateau. Kunigunde waited until the distance closed to about forty-five yards. She took a deep breath and arose from her knees and walked quickly to the center of the road.

“Conrad!” Kunigunde shouted as she took aim at the gunpowder kegs.

Conrad looked around as if confused about who shouted his name.

“Conrad!” Kunigunde shouted again louder.

Conrad finally identified Kunigunde uphill. He made no reply and started to walk toward her as his men stayed still.

“Move not! Order your men to disarm and get on their knees!” Kunigunde shouted. Conrad stopped in his track as he stared at her.

“Sister-” Conrad started to say but was interrupted by his sister.

Kunigunde put her finger on the trigger and shouted, “Ten! Nine! Eight!” she shouted quickly as a drill sergeant.

As Kunigunde continued to count down, Conrad ran to a ditch and hid. “Cover!” he shouted to his men. His men dispersed and hid behind rocks or wherever they could find concealment.

Seeing Conrad hide, Kunigunde fired her rifle at the wagon with no effect. She dropped the rifle and swung out the rifle she had slung and took careful aim. Taking a quick deep breath, she fired again. This time, the powder in the wagon caught fire and exploded, killing Equinox and blowing the leg off of one of Conrad’s men. Kunigunde dropped and laid prone. The rest of Kunigunde’s men stood up and fired a volley of bullets and arrows. She grabbed the rifle she had dropped and started to crawl back to the rocks where she had left Bregorn. There was a moment of silence save for the echo of the explosion and the volley of gunfire.

“To arms!” Conrad was heard shouting.

“Reload!” Kunigunde ordered.

Another moment of silence past and there was a deep trumpet that sounded from Conrad and his men charged up the hill. Kunigunde’s men understood the sound as well and believed that it was Kunigunde giving the order to charge, so they did as well downhill.

“What are you doing? Hold positions!” She screamed but was drowned out by another volley and charge from her own men. Only the men closest to her heard and obeyed. Kunigunde, seeing that her order did not reach to far side, ordered the left flank to charge and charged as well. Bregorn’s fear was cloaked by his desire to survive and help his sister. He charged as well.

Brutal melee ensued as the honor guards met each other. There was occasional confusions as to who was loyal to Kunigunde and who was loyal to Conrad. Kunigunde showed little mercy to those that tried to do her harm. Bregorn met with and killed one man with a slash to the neck. Another man came up quickly and knocked Bregorn’s sword out of defense and stabbed him through his left lung with a bayonet, not piercing all the way through. Bregorn grabbed the barrel of the rifle that was impaling him with a painful gasp in instinct and fell on his back with the push that his impaler gave. At first, he did not know that he had been stabbed for certain. There was a sharp pain like an electrical shock.

“Brother!” Kunigunde screamed.

Kunigunde ran and shoved the man impaling Bregorn, dragging the bayonet out of Bregorn. It was then that he was certain of what happened. She stabbed the man in the belly and then again in the face with her bayonet. She then turned around and slew two more men. Bregorn then started to feel a burning where he was stabbed as if it was the wound was in flame.

“You two!” Kunigunde shouted as she grabbed two of her men by the arms and threw them at Bregorn who was staring with panic at the hole stabbed into his body. It was hard for him to breathe as he choked on his own blood.

“Take him back up! Keep pressure on that wound!” Kunigunde ordered.

“Yes, Milady!” They responded. The stronger of the two picked up Bregorn in the fireman’s carry while the other escorted him.

Fighting continued as Bregorn was taken to their original positions and hidden behind the rocks. His hands were still shaking. His men cut the laces of his armor and removed it. His shirt was soaked in blood. They ripped open his shirt and poured wine onto the wound.

“I have seen worse sports injuries, milord. ‘Tis but a scratch. ” One of the men said. Bregorn knew that the man was worried for his prince but it did bring him some comfort. Bregorn said nothing, however, as he continued to stare at his wound. It depressed him to know he was helpless.

His men stacked their hands and pressed down on the wound. Over the next few minutes, the sounds of battle started to die down as well as the pain to some degree, as long as he didn’t move. His greater fear, however, was that Conrad and his men would win the battle. There was no way for him to tell where he was.

“What is happening out there?” Bregorn asked agonizingly.

“Worry not, milord.” One of the men responded.

Bregorn tried to lift his head to look down the hill, but the fire in his chest reignited the flame. He gasped as his head fell back onto one of the man’s legs.

“Relax, milord! Princess Kunigunde has everything under control.” They insisted.

As the time passed the sounds of rifles and shouts continued to become more infrequent and sporadic until the last shot was fired.

The battle of Excelus heights only lasted for about twenty minutes. The smoke from the guns sank like a fluid and drifted down the mountain as it steadily dissipated. Very few of Conrad's men chose to surrender and many wept over the loss of their friends. Some were angry at their friends, punching their corpses saying "Why did you make me do this? Why!?"

Bregorn heard orders from his sister: “Check for wounded! Where is Conrad?! Where is he?!”

Every scenario elaborated from this frightened Bregorn. Where is Conrad? Is he dead? Is he hiding? Bregorn started to feel faint. Blacking in and out of awareness, he heard and events he did not have time to understand as he laid on the edge of reality:

He heard boots run up to him as he was unaware of any other of his senses. “It is over, brother.” He heard his sister say to him quietly. He felt being lifted up by the underside of his arms and his ankles.

“We are taking you home, Bregorn. I’ll meet you there.” He heard his sister again.

His back felt the fur of a goshen followed by the bouncing of a trotting of the animal.

Bregorn was then looking at himself on the back of the goshen descending the Blue Pillar from above himself. He was among several goshens also with wounded. They were moving as fast as the goshen could. The experience itself did not disturb him but he felt guilt. It was not certain to him the origin of the guilt that he had felt. He noticed that his eyes were seeing better than ever before. It was acute enough to be able to discern every single hair on his head. A bird flew past him and as if time was slowed. It was not as if time was literally slowed, but the details he could sense made it seem so. He could see the wetness in the bird's eyes. The sheen from the bird's feathers reflected the setting sun. There was then a rush of wind that forced his eyes to close. There was a sweet scent of incense on the wind. When he opened his eyes again, he was in the citadel in Viapacis.

Mâr was on a daybed that was on a balcony connected to one of the upper rooms with paper on her crossed legs. The front of her hair was braided and tied back into a halo and light blue feathers on the side. She was wearing a white collared dress with an attached hood. Bregorn looked over her shoulder to see she was drawing a portrait of him with the traditional Viapacian form crown. Bregorn felt loved to see that Mâr was thinking about him. At the same time, he felt guilt that he had not told her where he was going.

“It is not near over, child.” A man said behind him. It was familiar to Bregorn.

“Father?!” Bregorn said in erupting tears.

“Father!” he called out, but he was being carried on a stretcher into the castle. The fire in his side again ignited as he let out a pained scream followed by coughing up his own blood. “Father?!”

“Be calm, milord.” One of the men said as they carried him up the stairs.

“Bregorn!” Mâr called out. She ran out of the archives in the middle of the second floor and up to Bregorn’s side. She took Bregorn’s hand and kissed his mark.

They approached and entered the clinic. The surgeon pointed to the surgery table and they laid the stretcher upon it. He grabbed his bag and cut the bandages off of his chest. Mâr stayed with him.

“Get me three larger tents, a probe, a steel tube, and some wine.” The surgeon said to his apprentice.

“Yes, doctor.” The apprentice responded.

The apprentice retrieved the items that the surgeon requested from the shelves that were in the back of the clinic. The surgeon turned to Mâr, “Do as I say or leave.”

“I will help, sir,” Mâr said in tears.

“Hold his hands down and away from me.” The surgeon demanded.

Mâr grasped both of Bregorn’s hands and held them above his head. Her hands were small and thin compared to his. There was much sweat in the palms of his hands, making them slippery Bregorn squeezed Mâr’s hands in reply.

“This is going to hurt, prince.” The doctor said, “Try your best to remain still and it will hurt less.”

Bregorn nodded. The surgeon then took the probe and used it to feel around the wound. Bregorn squeezed Mâr’s hands harder with a crackling in this throat as he felt a break as a cyst would break.

“I am here, my sweetheart.” Mâr said into his ear, “Do not look at the surgeon. Look at me.”

The surgeon then took a tent. It was a wooden tube with a small corked plug on one end. It was wrapped in clean linen. The surgeon soaked the linen in wine and pressed it into the wound and into Bregorn’s chest cavity. Disturbing to Mâr, Bregorn started to laugh. Bregorn squeezed Mâr as hard as he could. This hurts Mâr’s hands but she said nothing.

“I am here, my sweetheart.” She reminded Bregorn.

There was another pop and Bregorn gasped and coughed more blood. The surgeon’s apprentice wiped the blood and sweat from Bregorn’s mouth and face.

“Turn him to him to his belly,” the surgeon said.

They all worked together to turn him to his side. They put the tent over the side of the table and a bucket under it. The surgeon took another wooden tube shaped like a ‘Y’. He attached on fork of the ‘Y’ shaped tube to the end of the tent after uncorking it. He blew into the exposed upwards facing opening. A large spill of blood, pus, and serous fluids rushed out of the tube and into the bucket. The surgeon continued to blow into the opening for several minutes until there was almost no fluid left to be drained.

They returned Bregorn to his back and gave him water and bread. Mâr continued to stay with him. Bregorn asked the surgeon what happened to the rest of the wounded, the rest of the Honor guard, and Kunigunde. The surgeon did not know.

“What happened? Where did you go? Are the rumors true about Conrad.” Mâr asked, holding back her tears.

Bregorn was given one of his pipes with drug-treated petals to lessen his pain.

“Conrad killed my mother and said that he was preparing to destroy the Sanctum of the Flower. He took almost all the powder from the magazine Kunigunde, the rest of the honor guard, and I took goshens to the Kahrrexian trail and onto the second plateau. We waited there until Conrad arrived with those he somehow convinced to follow him. Kunigunde shot and ignited the powder. We charged a few moments later. Someone stabbed me in the side, I know not who. I do not recall much after that until I arrived here.” Bregorn said.

Mâr was quite disturbed by this news. She did know what to say, so she stayed silent. There was a silence for a few moments.

“I am sorry for not telling you where I was going or what happened. You deserved to know.” Bregorn said, feeling ashamed and not meeting her eyes.

“There is nothing to forgive, Bregorn. You are alive, that is all that I care about.” She said firmly as if she was taking offense that he would apologize.

The silence continued for another few moments. Mâr continued to hold his hand, petting the back of his hand with her thumb.

“I think I may have died, I am not certain.” He said.

“What did you say?” Mâr asked in concerned surprise.

“I think I fell asleep after being stabbed. I remember seeing myself being taken down the mountain. My vision was so clear. Then there was a wind and I saw you in one of the western facing balconies. You were wearing a white dress and drawing a portrait of me wearing my father’s crown.” Bregorn said, almost embarrassed to say such unlikely things, but also embarrassed of telling his sweetheart that he may have dreamed of her. That is not something that unmarried couples would have likely talked about.

Mâr withdrew her hand from Bregorn’s hand and began to walk out of the room, “I will be right back,” she said as if she was frightened.

She left the clinic and returned several minutes later with a parchment stretched over a frame.

“This one?” she said revealing the piece.

It was exactly the same as he remembered it from only, what seemed to him, a few hours ago. He did not see it in great detail as he did before.

“Yes.” Bregorn said as he reached his hand out, signaling that he wanted to hold it.

Mâr handed it over to him. He closely examined it, flipping it upside-down and looking at the reverse side.

“How could you have seen this before?” Mâr asked, “I did this piece yesterday evening.” She knew that Bregorn would never lie about such an experience, especially in the context of the recent events. Such things might have been a blasphemy then. Bregorn was not one to prank, either.

“Do you remember the stories of people feeling the being taken away in death’s arms? I experienced several things that were similar to those stories. I heard my father’s voice.” Bregorn said.

Mâr continued to be amazed. “What did he say?” Mâr asked.

Bregorn laid his head back on the pillow that was on his bed. He paused for a moment. “He said, ‘It is not near over, child.’ Was he talking about my life, or something else?”

Mâr stayed silent trying to think of something to say. She wondered too on what it could have meant. But Bregorn started to suspect that his father, assuming it was truly his father’s spirit speaking to him, which he believed with great conviction, meant that Conrad was not killed or captured. Kunigunde had not returned yet.

The stayed there for a few more hours. They cleaned his wounds again with wine soaked linens after ringing them out. An honor guard entered the clinic, he recognised him as one of the men who fought with him.

“Good evening, Prince Bregorn, How fare you?” The honor guard asked.

Bregorn ignored the question. “Where is Kunigunde?” he asked.

“She went North, milord.” The Honor Guard said, folding his hands near his belt buckle.

Bregorn became increasingly concerned that what he feared was true. “What? Why?” He asked, concerned.

“After the battle, we looked for Prince Conrad. He was not among the fallen, and we looked for him for two hours after you left. After that, Sergeant Asher ordered us to mount and spread out. We realized that one of the goshens were missing. Guard Jethro found tracks several minutes. We did not think that Conrad had taken it at the time, only that a goshen separated from the pack. Jethro saw Conrad and alerted Princess Kunigunde. She took thirty of us and told the rest to take the fallen home.” He explained. “With any luck, Princess Kunigunde and her men should return win a week. You are in command until she returns, milord.”

Bregorn then started to cry. He worried for his sister and was frustrated that the situation was not over. He did not want anything bad to happen to either of them. Doing his best to ignore his pain, he sat up and rested his head on Mâr’s shoulder.

The surgeon drained the fluid from Bregorn’s chest every day and replaced the bandages. He replaced the tents in his chest with progressively smaller ones. Mâr stayed with him as much as she could.