The battle ended in the way you might have expected. Frank hunting down stragglers and Emil returning blood soaked and exhausted. There were no high fives or shouts of victory, just the moans of the injured and dying.

  Overhead, the magical flare was finally beginning to sputter out, returning the swamp to its original nightly state. Plunging them into utter darkness as even the moon refused to be party to their slaughter.

  Inside of the wagon was a mess, the fishermen had armed themselves with harpoons and shields in the form of barrel lids. They were all cloistered in the central room in a press that made their fish barrels look spacious and roomy. The only ones given any space at were Norman and Colber, they had propped Norman up against the wall in the back of room. It looked like someone had attempted to bandage him up with a strip of dirty cloth but Ozzy wasn’t sure it was doing more good than bad for man.

  “It’s over.” Ozzy couldn’t bring himself to say anything more, and he was certain they’d be just as relieved to hear that as he was.

  That was all they needed to hear as a dam of fear broke before the fishermen. Harpoons clattered to the floor, barrel lids were tossed out of the space and more than a few of the young fishermen broke down. They’d been convinced of their own destruction, and gave prayers of thanks to a jumble of different gods. Ozzy was just glad no one was thanking him and he stepped aside to let the fishermen flow out of the room like a school of fish swimming out of the fraying net of their destruction.

  Left alone in the room was Norman, injured, weary, and not breathing all too well. He looked up at Ozzy and gave him a tired smile, though he neglected to say anything. Looking at his friend Ozzy couldn’t help but feel grateful for furry fortitude, his shoulder was still throbbing but it was nothing compared to the jagged life ending gash he’d had earlier.

  “Hey man,” Ozzy knelt down in front of him so that he wouldn’t have to look up so much. “I’m not gonna make you talk man I just need to know about the meds on board. Can you blink once for no and twice for yes?”

  Norman blinked twice.

  “Are there any more healing potions on the wagon?”

  One blink

  “What about medical supplies?”

  He blinked three times.

  “Sorry, are there medical supplies on board?”

  One blink

  “Is it anything that would help with-” Ozzy gestured vaguely at him.

  One blink

  Ozzy ran a hand through his hair in frustration as he tried to figure something out. “How bad do you think it is-” Ozzy groaned and rephrased his question. “Do you think you’ll make it to the city?”

  Three blinks

  “You don’t know?

  Two blinks

  With a loud sigh Ozzy stood up and paced the room. The longer he paced the more frustrated he became until after a minute had passed Emil waltzed into the room like he’d just been out for midnight stroll and nothing was wrong with the world. Then he spotted Norman and froze.

  For all of the smack Emil had talked about Norman and his creepy fish talking Ozzy could tell the big man was fond of him. After all he was the only man on board willing to speak casually with them. They’d been working together much longer than Ozzy had been around, potentially for years.

  “How is he?” Emil’s words were clipped and short as he buried his feelings beneath a layer of professionalism.

  “Not great. The boys snapped the shafts so that he could lean against the wall but we can’t take what’s left of the arrow out of him.” Ozzy bent down, examining Norman’s wounds more closely. “They’re not bleeding all that much but I’m more worried about his lung and the possibility of infection.”

  Listening intently Emil nodded. “And we used the healing potions” He growled. “Fighting that stupid Root Sucker.” He turned, brutally striking the wall as his mask of indifference shattered. “We’re three days, from any help, and much further from any help worth taking.”

  Emil began to pace, his fists clenched into white knuckled balls as he fumed. Pausing for a moment at the rooms exit he collected himself, taking a deep breath before wheeling around on Ozzy. There was steel in his eyes as he considered his options, weighing them before speaking.

  “This place is a death trap, once something gets a whiff of all that blood it’ll be open season on those corpses. I already set the boys to work getting us out of here so we don’t need to worry about that.” He spared a glance at Norman. “But once we’re a couple hours away from this mess we’re hunting.” He paused to throw another glance at Norman. “I’m getting you back to Katy, I swear it Norman.”

  With the subtlest of movements Norman gave a tiny inclination of his head. There was a connection there, one that superseded the guard and first mate roles they filled. Ozzy just hoped they’d be able to bank on that trust.

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  They left Norman to rest after finding him a blanket and a sack stuffed with shirts that would double as the world’s worst pillow. After a brief perimeter walk he and Emil tucked themselves in for what little rest they could manage before they were far enough from the battlefield to start hunting. Emil had instructed the fishermen to wake him if anything so much as twitched out in the swamp and despite the wakeup call never coming, neither slept.

  ***

  After being assaulted by his thoughts for the better part of four hours, the sounds of Emil stirring were like an angelic choir to Ozzy’s tired ears. With a groan he stiffened flexing his muscles before exhaling and stretching the soreness out of his back, he really needed to find a sleep shard.

  Standing up he felt each spot of soreness protest as he made eye contact with Emil. The big man looked like Ozzy felt, and was just about as textbook as angry and tired as someone could get; dark circles under his eyes, disheveled hair, and a bit of dried drool on the corner of his mouth.

  “Sleep any?” Emil’s question was more grunt than English.

  “Not really, you?”

  “A few minutes” He rubbed at his eyes. “We’ll grab some food and go.”

  Nodding in confirmation he and Ozzy set off for the mess where they ate a quick breakfast of fried fish and rice. It was far from glorious but Ozzy didn’t much care about the taste, he was scarfing it down as quickly as possible so that he’d be able to talk before they set out. It was a long shot but if there was even a chance of improving their odds against the monsters out there he was going to take it.

  Swallowing the final bite of rice in his bowl Ozzy spoke up. “So how long will we be gone for and what kind of loot would help us?”

  Frowning, Emil put down his spoon, “Sometimes you can get potions from a looting circle, there’s more a chance of us finding a friendly witch who’ll patch Norman up free of charge but there is a chance. We could find the right sort of ingredients for a potion or a piece of monster meat that can speed up his healing. I wouldn’t have counted on that second bit before but your identifier might clue us in on something that’ll work. Finally a core or shard related to healing or constitution.” Done talking he picked his spoon back up and resumed eating.

  Despite not outright mentioning the might shard Ozzy’d absorbed the implication hung precariously between them, threatening to fall at the slightest disturbance of their uneasy breakfast. Emil probably knew the power granted to him by the might shard had probably saved his life and in turn the lives of everyone sheltering on the wagon. Despite that fact however he refused to acknowledge Ozzy had made the right decision and he still continued to avoid any conversation about shards. Which made Ozzy’s next question an incredibly hard ask.

  “Do you think we might be better off hunting if you had an extra power?”

  Ozzy winced as he finished the question as for the first time since they’d made it to the mess Emil made eye contact with him. There was no doubt Emil knew what he was getting at. They still had a single shard left in their pile of loot, the claw shard Ozzy had looted his first day in the swamp.

  The glare Emil leveled on Ozzy might as well have been a core power. Chances were had he used it last night the raiders would have just turned tail and dipped. Too bad Ozzy didn’t really have that option.

  “Give me one good reason why.” Emil growled at him.

  What ensued was probably the most uncomfortable conversation Ozzy’d had since telling his mother he was dropping out of college to build a cabin in Alaska. So they went back and forth until finally, Emil began crack.

  Scowling as he spooned the last of his rice into his mouth Emil used the spoon to jab accusingly at Ozzy. “I know it’s the smart thing to do.” He stood up. “I don’t need any more powers though, I have more than enough to hunt today.”

  “What if we run into a root sucker? Or I’m busy and you have to fight a pack of murk rats?”

  “Then I’ll run! Or I’ll buy you time to run, why do you care so damn much?” He slammed his bowl down onto the table.

  “Because it’s not just your neck on the line! I couldn’t care less about whether or not you have an extra power or not. I bet Norman cares though, I bet his wife and little girl care.” Leaning across the table he jabbed a finger at Emil. “It’s one thing for you to risk your life and say you don’t need any extra power, but Norman and I were dragged into this against our will. I was happily home a few days ago, scratching my butt and relaxing the winter away, and now I’m here!” Ozzy held his hands out and panned around the room. “We don’t have raiders or bandits back home, much less monsters. I haven’t been in a serious fight since I was 19, but you dragged me off to fight a monster that by all rights should’ve killed us. Don’t even get me started about last night,” Ozzy snarled, “I don’t even know how many people I killed.”

  Spitting on the floor Emil shook his head, not meeting Ozzy’s gaze. “Those weren’t people, they’re monsters, and things like them are the reason I refuse to take any more shards. I won’t turn into that” He turned away, tossing his bowl into a barrel full of soapy water, the wagons take on a sink.

  “How does that make any sense, they didn’t even have cores. You’re nothing like them.”

  “They might not have any, but the ones they follow do. They raid, and pillage, and steal, for the barest glimpse at power. Cores and shards, they’re a drug. Using them isn’t just getting stronger, it’s submitting yourself to an addiction. People use them and get hooked on that feeling of mana coursing through their veins. My own mother, my mom Ozzy, sold me to a fighting pit for a single, lousy, shard. I have the power I do know because it was forced onto me, and I refuse to continue down that road. I will not be the man who leaves his wife in the vain pursuit of another ability.”

  “Then don’t” Ozzy said.

  Emil whirled on him like an enraged beast. “Did you not hear a thing I just said?”

  “Did you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you refuse to be corrupted, quite frankly I think that’s an excellent position to hold.” Ozzy reasoned with him, speaking gently.

  “You’re ignoring my point,” Emil shook his head in disbelief. “You have no idea how many core users lose everything as they chase power.”

  “But not all of them, right? Emil, you’re a good dude. A great one from what I can tell. You come out here risking your life to put food on the table, then you risk your life again for a stranger you just met so that I might have some Roqs for when I get to the city. Now you’re risking your life for a third time for just the chance we have of saving Norman. Those aren’t the characteristics of a junkie or a thug.”

  “But-”

  Ozzy spoke over him. “My mother always told me that power was a multiplier of character. If you’re a toolbag without a core you’ll be a huge toolbag when you have three cores and all your powers backing you up. If you’re a good dude who helps people then the volume of help you can afford only goes up with the scope volume of your abilities.”

  “Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Emil dropped the quote like a bomb.

  “Then you establish checks and balances for yourself. It can be done man, you just have to trust the people around you.” Ozzy did his best to give him a genuine smile.

  “You look like a moron.” Emil rubbed his nose. “We need to get going though, go grab the rings.” Pausing for a moment he looked thoughtfully in the direction of their sleeping quarters. “Dammit all to hell, grab the shard too.”