Lovely, warm energy coursed through Velainah's veins, and the throbbing pain in her head gradually ceased. Even her lower back started to forget the multiple pairs of heavy feet that had trampled on her kidneys in a frantic flight. As her eyes popped open, her gaze fell on a comrade's well-known face.

  "You okay, Vel?" asked Gekkor with that easy smile of his, reaching for her hand to help her up. "Thank Erastil we've found you!"

  "Mhm. Thanks." She smiled back, relieved to be among friends once again, and scrambled to her feet.

  After a moment of dizziness, she felt as good as new. Her hand wandered up to her scalp, feeling out the spot where she'd been hit. No bump, no pain, no wound. Her hair was still a bit soggy with blood, but she could live with that. She was alive and as safe as one could possibly be on a battlefield. Nothing else mattered.

  However, the next moment washed away her fleeting happiness without trace.

  "Have you lost your unit?"

  Her stomach turned as her gaze met the pair of glowing eyes fixated on her, looking down from the height of a horse. Vel was instantly reminded of her purpose, the first and foremost reason why she was here – aside from fending off the invaders threatening Varnhold, the place that had become her homeland so quickly.

  "Yes, Ma'am," she said, snapping to attention. She stared bravely into those hateful eyes and tried to look open, honest, guileless.

  Darlac hesitated for a moment, and Vel knew exactly what was going on in her head. The General (or whatever she was called now) didn't trust her. The presence of her victim's apprentice made her uncomfortable, but she couldn't act on her distrust without giving rise to suspicion and unwanted questions. She was all but forced to add Vel to her squad, whether she liked it or not.

  "Follow, then," she finally said. "Let's put your talents to good use."

  Moving away from Vel's face, Darlac's eyes sought out an eagle high up in the sky (probably Faeli). She heeled her horse into a light trot, following the bird's guidance towards the next spot that needed her intervention. Vel joined the ranks and did her best to pick up the pace.

  Apparently, the General was not one to pull the strings from the safety of a protected headquarters behind the lines – it was too late to try and enforce any semblance of order on the chaotic turmoil of the battlefield, anyway. Instead, she made a show of breaking out surrounded units, relieving exhausted soldiers, covering retreats, picking up stragglers, rekindling their allies' will to fight, all the while keeping her halo ablaze, like some messenger from Heaven, a vision of golden light to fill desperate souls with hope and strike terror into the hearts of the enemy. Had it been anyone else, anyone who hadn't murdered a friend in cold blood to pander to a new liege, Vel would have found this course of action admirable.

  Then they ran into a bunch of fleeing Brevans splattered with blood and gore, so panicked that they didn't even dare look back over their shoulders.

  "He's coming!"

  "Fuck this shit! I'm out!"

  "I didn't sign up for this!"

  "Hell, he just split Soren in half!"

  Even Darlac recognised that it would be a futile effort to try and stop them in their tracks. Whatever was on their heels had inflicted a visceral fear upon them, one that couldn't be outmatched by the displeasure of a high-ranking allied officer.

  "Quick, get to safety! I'll hold him up!"

  By the time Vel caught up with the riders at the front, Darlac had dismounted, tossed her horse's reins at Gekkor, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward to meet the unnamed horror head-on.

  Facing her was a man who had likely fallen into a bubbling cauldron of Potion of Bull's Strength as a toddler: although not quite the size of a giant, he towered above his entourage and also above his challenger. He stood alone in a half-circle of other barbarians carefully giving him enough space, wearing quite a bit more muscle and less clothing than his companions, and the sheer size of his greatsword dwarfed Darlac's weaponry in comparison. The man's face had the combined expression of permanent rage and post-rage fatigue, a pair of bloodshot eyes bulging from it, reflecting sleep deprivation and a moderate degree of madness.

  "Who dare stand in Armag's way?" he bellowed in broken Common.

  Oh. Armag the Twice-Born himself, versus the Acting General-Whatever of Varnhold and Nightvale. How fitting.

  Darlac raised a hand to halt her soldiers. Vel stayed back, silently casting her mentor's Sonic Transmission Enhancement spell to catch every single detail. This was going to be fun.

  "General, I suggest retreat," said Tehara in a muffled voice. "No offence, Darlac, but I'm scared for your life."

  Vel smiled to herself. Her estimate of chances tallied with Tehara's. Even with divine support, Darlac's victory in this duel was far from guaranteed – and if there was any justice in the world, Iomedae probably had second thoughts about boosting her traitorous paladin's attacks. However, Darlac had no way to wiggle out of this without losing face.

  "Tehara," she said softly, "if things go south, you take the lead. In the long run, persuade Baron Varn to take up leadership of the Host once again. Consider this my last will, and wish me luck."

  She signalled to her men to give her some space and walked towards the big guy with proud, confident steps, sword and shield in hand.

  "I am the one who will stop you from ravaging this land! Come face me if you dare!"

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Vel wove her way between her new squadmates until she gained a clear view of the two opponents, her mind racing, her heart thundering in her throat. She hadn't used up all her spells yet. Perhaps she could gently nudge the progress of the duel into a certain direction. If Darlac was ready for a hero's death, Vel was happy to assist. Preferably adding some degree of humiliation as well.

  The General took her stance, steady behind her shield.

  "You?" laughed the chieftain. "You be plaything for Armag! Little clay rat!"

  "You do like the sound of your name, don't you?" taunted Darlac. "Or did your mother not teach you to speak like a normal person? Oh wait, did you have a mother at all?"

  Vel rolled her eyes. Loudmouth. I have yet to hear your perfectly fluent Hallit. Or any language other than Common, for that matter.

  Armag charged with uncanny speed, way too quick for his bulk. Darlac barely had time to sidestep and raise her shield.

  "Armag have eight mothers! How many you have?"

  Vel let out an unapologetic giggle. So the mighty General of Varnhold is about to be roughed up by an oversized toddler. Not the most glorious death imaginable. Her fingers slipped into her spell ingredient pouch, rummaging for something to make it worse with.

  Darlac, too, burst into laughter as she slammed her shield into the man's shoulder. He didn't even flinch. She followed up with a stab, but her foe was already out of range.

  "Does Armag even know where babies come from?" she jeered.

  The answer came in a flurry of strikes. Thud. Thud. Thud. Darlac ducked behind her shield, the power of each blow shaking her entire body. She slipped out and moved to the side before her bones would snap from the repeated impact, and finally landed a shallow cut across her foe's ribs, drawing blood. But by the time she could push her meagre advantage, the next attack came. She was being forced into the defensive, and she didn't like it one bit.

  But was it really revenge if Vel just stood by and watched?

  Her fumbling fingers felt out a tiny vial, sticky even on the outside. Molasses. Armag was doing his best to tire out Darlac. Who would suspect any foul play if she got overwhelmed with exhaustion under his blows, sapped of her strength and agility, the attacks becoming increasingly hard to block or dodge, until one would hit true and split her in two neat halves?

  Unplugging the vial, Vel spilt a drop of the sticky brown substance onto her index finger. She touched it to the tip of her tongue, smiling as the sweetness of revenge filled her mouth, and whispered the first words of the incantation.

  "Stop that, will you?"

  The smack on the back of her head seemed to have come out of the blue, causing her to drop the vial. Then she realised it was a lanky Nightvale fellow standing beside her.

  "What was that for?" she lashed out. "Can't you see her struggle? We must do something!"

  The other soldier shook his head.

  "I see you're worried for your commander, girl, but you're not supposed to intervene. If the barbarians spot you secretly magicking against their chief, what will keep them from jumping into the fray and killing us all?"

  Vel gave him a withering glance and a pout for his trouble, before sinking to all fours to look for her vial (and also usurping the occasion to get away from the obnoxious guy). She gave up on Slow. If anyone saw her do it, like this man had now, it would be hard to explain how she'd hit her own superior instead of the opponent. She needed something different. Perhaps an agonising area-of-effect spell to make them both miserable. Armag would take it in stride in his murderous frenzy, but Darlac would suffer as she was meant to.

  In response to Vel's untold wish, Armag landed a push kick on Darlac's shield, knocking her back and sending her supine on the ground. She rolled to the side and got to her feet. Blood trickled down her face from a cut across the root of her nose, probably from the edge of her own shield.

  Not good enough.

  Vel's fingers found their way into the pouch again, and closed around a sharp piece of obsidian. She focused on the tiny little vengeance particles doing their rounds in her body, travelling endlessly inside her blood vessels, and visualised what she was about to do. The ground under the feet of both opponents would turn into molten glass, scorching the soles off their boots and preferably also the skin off their feet, then knit into slippery glass sheets, splintering at the smallest impact. She wondered how they would fare wading barefoot in glass shards.

  Her mouth drawn into a cruel smile, she started to utter the words.

  However, the incantation froze on her lips as she realised she was being watched.

  This time, her gaze found the observer on the opposite side: a strange woman shrouded in a veil, standing idly behind Armag's back, her yellow-green eyes boring into Vel's forehead. How could she even tell what colour those eyes were at this distance? Did they exist in her mind only? The idea filled Vel with horror. She couldn't feel the shard in her hand anymore: her limbs were numb with fear as her mind was peeled, layer by layer, down to its core. But the weirdest thing of all was the inexplicable feeling that the woman was pleased and amused with what she saw.

  By the time the shrouded woman let go of Vel's mind, the moment was gone, never to return. She wouldn't see Darlac's boots go up in smoke and flames, or their wearer jump about on bloodied feet, howling in pain. Still, she felt content amidst her failure. Almost as though she'd received a promise to become part of a grand design where her ambition would one day be fulfilled.

  But, apparently, not today.

  Someone ran up to Armag and explained something to him in Hallit. The chieftain swung his hand towards Darlac in a gesture of contempt, as if shooing away a bothersome fly.

  "Worthless! Armag have no time for this! Need back in camp!"

  The barbarians exchanged clueless glances and shrugs. Surely their chief wouldn't quit mid-duel and abandon beating up this puffed-up aasimar, the closest thing the Brevans had to a leader right now? But yes, he did exactly that. He turned and stormed away, as suddenly as he'd come, with his entourage in tow.

  "You'll regret letting me live, coward!" spat Darlac, laughing incredulously. "Go learn your grammar!"

  She dropped her shield, dabbed at her face with the edge of her cloak, and tried her best to massage some life into her shield arm, numbed by Armag's furious blows. Vel watched Gekkor busy himself around her, and smiled.

  Soon.