“I believe that everyone is always trying to do the best they can with the life they have been given,” Alexia told Erlos, relaying her mother’s humane philosophy based on her extensive study of history and people. “And, at the same time, we are also forced to survive in conditions that require us to adapt, often in ways that defy our beliefs of right and wrong,” she continued, intertwining her mother’s beliefs with her father’s pragmatic philosophy. “When faced with these situations, we lose our innocence, and how we respond to that determines who we become,” she added, tying in her own recently discovered convictions.

  “We become the best version of ourselves that was possible to survive our situation and that version of ourselves becomes a habit. If we never break that habit, if we forever follow the garden path in front of us, we never get to become who we wanted to be or who we dreamt of becoming.” Alexia mournfully thought of Maleon. “Tell me, Erlos, what is your story? What led you to needing banditry to survive?”

  Erlos guided Alexia through the Maypine Forest. It was just the two of them and Alexia made sure that Erlos stayed in the lead.

  “I was a deserter,” he told her. He hacked away a branch with his woodsman’s axe. “Pinarus conscripted me into the Sentinels when I was eighteen. I served in Mirrevar for three years before I was given reassignment to Maypine. I bonded my boyhood sweetheart.” He pushed through brambles, holding them so Alexia could pass through.

  Erlos pushed through the next set of trees. “Not one moon after my daughter was born,” Erlos hacked another branch with immense frustration, “Pinarus sent me back to Mirrevar.”

  Alexia sighed. “Your wife and daughter didn’t go with you?”

  Erlos cut through another branch. Then another. Then another. He attacked with an ancient anger that had never faded. “My wife served in the Pinnacle. Pinarus wouldn’t part with her and a war camp is no place for a baby girl.”

  “You deserted to be with them?”

  Erlos released a tortured grunt that was half laugh and half fury. “I spent seven divinedamned years in Mirrevar, continuously asking for leave after the first year.” Erlos chopped down a small tree. He waddled through thick brush. Alexia followed closely as he forged the path.

  “They lied to me a hundred times, telling me that it would soon be my turn to leave.” He snorted. “They never even let me have a single day on the other side of the Great Eagle Bridge. My life was two days away for seven years.” He stopped his assault on the forest and sighed.

  Alexia listened to his story, wanting to believe every word but wariness kept her on edge. “You were too useful to them,” Alexia projected, knowing that feeling all too well. “They stole your life.” Alexia reached for her missing piece, where the locket should be, were her life her own.

  “As usual, you have it.” He glanced back at her, offering a halfhearted smile. “You are some kind of empathic savant.”

  Alexia flushed, her eyes shooting toward the dirt.

  Had Erlos been ready to betray her, that moment would’ve been ripe. Instead, he continued his tale. “I was too useful as a scout. I spent moons at a time in the field without seeing our own palisade walls. They refused to grant me knighthood, though many were given it for far less. They knew that I would have the freedom to force my conscription’s end.”

  Alexia felt the pain at the core of this man’s soul, wishing she could take some of it away from him. It resonated with her own, unearthing feelings she kept burying. Forced to fight battles, pressured to bond princes, never free to live your own life. “You gave them ten years, Erlos, and they gave you nothing in return. All they did was take.”

  Erlos halted. He released a heavy sigh, then looked back at her. He was softening, but she wasn’t ready to trust. “That is the truth of it. They never cared about me. I was just a weapon to them.”

  “A weapon to be used for killing. Given no freedom to enjoy its own life. I wonder what that’s like?”

  Erlos stifled a chortle. “I suppose you can relate.”

  Alexia shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Erlos quietly forged a tiny path through the thick woods. Nearly an entire degree had elapsed before he said, “That wasn’t even the worst part.”

  Alexia spent the silence constructing his story in her mind. “After seven years, you escaped. Maybe you gave them reason to believe you had died in the field. Maybe you made like Maddeck Eckhard and snuck out when you had your first chance. Either way, you went home,” Alexia’s voice broke as she felt Erlos’s sadness pressing into her heart, “only to find that you had no home.”

  Erlos sat down, his back to her. He looked up at the canopy, speaking so softly Alexia had to strain her ears to hear him. “It had been two years since I had received any letters from my wife. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I couldn’t give them any more. I needed to go home or I would have thrown myself into the Eagle. I fled in the night, pretending to the gate watchers that I had orders to scout vulnerabilities on the east side of the Eagle. My feet carried me home as fast as they could. I had made a doll for my baby, for Freya, years ago, not unlike the one you carry.”

  His voice cracked. “I wanted to see her and give her the doll before Pinarus gave me to his headsman. Perhaps,” he took a breath full of sorrow, “perhaps I even hoped Mila and Freya would run away with me.”

  Erlos shook his head, taking time to put his words together through the pain. Alexia wondered how long they’d been held in, trapped within like a cancer. She thought of putting a hand on his shoulder, of doing whatever she could to lessen the weight of these words so long left to crush this man’s soul. She held back.

  “I made it home on the second night,” Erlos said. “Just after dinner bells rang through the city, I rushed down the road toward our little cabin. When I finally saw Mila’s cabin, I saw a little girl that looked just like her.” Erlos lowered his head. “In another man’s arms, calling him ‘dad.’” Erlos shook as if in a windstorm. “Mila came out onto the porch, a little boy chasing after her. They,” Erlos stopped, words failing him as his voice gave out.

  Tears glistened in Alexia’s eyes. “The price of your loyalty was losing your family. The cost of seeing them was a bounty on your head. You had nowhere to go. No purpose. Your love was gone. All that remained was the anger, the hatred, and the will to survive.”

  “Yes,” Erlos said, rising to his feet. He carved a path through the branches, with a lethargy, as if weighted down by his unbounded memories. “You already have the rest.”

  You will love again, Alexia told herself. You will find purpose, Erlos.

  “We are getting close,” he warned. “Subdue my brothers, kill Dax, and I will help you convince them to join us.”

  Us, Alexia thought. She was not ready to let go of her skepticism, but Alexia grew more convinced that Erlos could be trusted with each step.

  “I will give them all a chance to be redeemed,” Alexia promised.

  Erlos’s expression was terrifyingly firm. “Not Dax. There can be no redemption for him.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I bet your life on it.”

  Alexia gripped at her chest. I cannot save everyone. She inhaled, held, and exhaled. “Dax will die.”

  Erlos nodded, his firmness evaporated into a thin smile. “Good. I’ve no desire to bury you.”

  “And I have no desire to be buried.”

  The stalked through the forest, the woods growing less dense, for a few degrees before arriving at a creek. Erlos gestured for Alexia to be still. They must’ve waited for three degrees before he motioned Alexia forward.

  Nervously, she channeled Celegana, prepared to wield nature to protect herself. In her heart, she felt a desire to make the world whole. In her mind, she prepared to sunder the ground to keep herself whole.

  Erlos crouched over the water and dipped his hand in it. “This creek is our water source. Most of the men in the camp are woodsmen and hunters. We have all done our evil deeds and we all have our reasons for choosing this evil path to survive.” Erlos leaned back. “Dax is different. He claims to be a bastard Haliae honoring his family tradition. He savors the kill and seeks to hurt the world. He has killed many of our own number when they’ve faltered to do as he says. He fights with Seraxa’s passion and Zamael’s cruelty.” Erlos met Alexia’s stare. “Please, show no mercy. There can be no softheartedness with him, Alexia, and even a moment’s hesitation can end in your death.”

  Alexia clung to Celegana’s divine energy. “Medicans do not hesitate to amputate arms to save bodies. I will restore wholeness where I can and let die where there is naught but rot.”

  Erlos nodded. “Good. Are you ready?”

  Alexia calmed herself with a quick meditation. She breathed in. I can do this. She breathed out, reaching for Dalis. Alexia parted the creek. A dry path wide enough for a person to walk through formed where water ceased to exist as Alexia drew it into her staff. Her voice was serene. “Lead on, Erlos.”

  Erlos lifted an eyebrow to let her know that he thought she was showing off then guided her through one final set of brambles. He didn’t need to announce their arrival. Alexia craned her neck for a better view. A few men moved about the camp but she couldn’t visualize everything from her vantage.

  Erlos pointed out the tripwire and the three watchtowers built into the trees. Bandits were nested in each hidden scaffolding. Channeling Celegana, Alexia put her hand on Erlos’s shoulder. “You and your men shall be redeemed,” she promised. “I will help you grow into who you were meant to be, not who life made you be.”

  “Alexia’s Redeemed Men,” he whispered. “I should like that. Remember—”

  “Kill Dax,” Alexia finished.

  Erlos solemnly nodded.

  Closing her eyes, Alexia felt Celegana stirring inside of her, eager to help these men grow. She clenched her fist, the power of the Divine Goddess of Earth in her hands. I will save who I can that we may watch flowers bloom where once were weeds. I shall replant their souls into Leverith’s garden so that they may become beautiful. To do that, I must prune away that which blocks their growth.

  Holding onto a wealth of Celegana’s divine energy, Alexia studied the camp one more time, finalizing her focus.

  The crudeness of the three treetop towers. The cook singing the bawdy classic, Precious Potatoes, about the many uses of that wondrous food. Of course, what a child heard as potatoes a more seasoned person heard as something that didn’t grow in the ground. Another bandit was heckling the man’s singing and day drinking. Another was chopping wood. Two were lounging by the horses. According to Erlos, four would be sleeping ahead of their night watch. None of the ones she saw matched Erlos’s description of Dax.

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  Twelve, she counted, knowing that Erlos insisted their number would be thirteen. Dax himself insisted that they never number less than that. Dax was the thirteenth. Another man came into view, admiring the disorganized clutter of loot tossed into a pile. Not Dax either, judging by him having two eyes and short, dark hair.

  One of the sleepers, Alexia concluded.

  Alexia welled up feelings of stubbornness. She refused to let her plan fail, deepening her connection to Celegana. Alexia formed her focus, imagining the earth reshape around the camp she had studied so intently the last several turns. She filled Aurora with Celegana’s divine energy and let it spill into herself, massing until she was one with nature and nature was one with her.

  The earth split beneath the tower trees, sending them crashing into the camp. Alexia gripped Celegana’s power, molding the land. A yawning crater devoured tents, supplies, and men alike. The ground ruptured beneath staggering bandits, swallowing them all into the crater. She exhaled, releasing her hold on Celegana. The land was in disarray, but all went according to her focus. The bandits were trapped in her sinkhole.

  Alexia approached the sinkhole’s edge, more nervous to have to speak to them than she was about deflecting any arrows. The crater was a maelstrom of upturned tents, scattered weapons, and dazed men spitting out curses. Twenty feet deep with no way to climb out, Alexia had time to address them. If only she knew how.

  Erlos appeared beside her, scanning the crater. The bandits called his name, pleading for explanations and rescues.

  “I offer you redemption and freedom!” Erlos shouted. He turned to Alexia. “Here stands Alexia Bluerose, Savior of Tenacity. If you let her, she will be your savior too.”

  Alexia felt their eyes on her like she was the Seeress of Meladon during a Divincor service. The thoughts came unbidden: she couldn’t do this, they wouldn’t listen to her, she’d never be good at this, she’d always fail. She pushed through the anxiety, aware that if she didn’t try, she couldn’t succeed. Still, she couldn’t form words. They stared at her, rough men with untrusting expressions. Many of them nursed wounds from her spell.

  That was a language she could speak. Alexia looked forward to a future where these men walked the path of Leverith, where they stood against the Chimaera, where they were redeemed. She released shockwaves of Leverith’s divine love into the crater, filling the hole with a moon-blue mist that undulated from person to person to ease their pain and tend surface wounds.

  As she channeled, her mind stumbled like a broken-legged veteran trying to climb stairs, reaching for the right words to say. These men had done horrible things, serving Zamael in their banditry. She didn’t know them or their stories. What could she say that wouldn’t sound patronizing or innocent? Maleon had taught her that her love alone wasn’t enough to change a man’s heart.

  But Alexia wasn’t alone.

  Erlos called out to his brothers. “How many of you have questioned this life? How many of you have longed for escape from this pit of hell? Alexia will raise us from this abyss, be our guiding light out of the darkness!”

  Twin thrums shifted Alexia’s focus, back to the focus she’d been on the edge of for several days. Zafrir’s wind roared to life around her, shattering the bolt before it connected. But her barrier hadn’t protected Erlos.

  Erlos staggered, the bolt pushed through his back and out of his broad chest.

  Like an arrow…

  A burning anger swelled in her chest, spreading until her entire body felt scorched in its heat, emanating from her like she was the center of an inferno. She became wrath. Wrath toward the arrow, toward the crossbowman, toward the very gods themselves. A ring of fire roared to live, creating a protective circle around her and Erlos.

  She scanned the trees, but her enemy was closer. A tall, muscular, one-eyed man with long red hair leapt through the fire, his face split with a sadistic grin.

  Dax.

  In her nervousness to address the other bandits, she allowed herself to be ambushed by this yasmar in human flesh. Erlos paid the price.

  She barely lifted Aurora in time to deflect his cut. His saber sliced into her arm, knocking her staff out of her grasp. Pain and fear flared, making it impossible to prepare any spells. She swept at him with Sunfire, but he stepped in, gripped her wrist, and tore the rapier out of her hand.

  Dax’s hand clamped around her throat, lifting her effortlessly. Her feeble attempt to kick and claw at him was weathered with a grin. His knee drove into her ribs. Her vision blurred, her mind focused only on her inevitable death as she failed to form a focus.

  “Grab some of that gold we took from the last bitch,” Dax called into the crater. “Let’s have some fun.” He winked at her, before hurling her into the hole.

  The impact onto logs stole her breath, sent pain lancing through her spine. Something inside her cracked. She gasped for air, limbs unresponsive, blood soaking her robes, turning them more purple than blue.

  Dax dropped in after her, landing with grace. “Whoever brings the gold gets to go second!”

  He leaned close, his breath foul. “Most beautiful,” he said, examining her face. He muffled her screams with his hand. “I’m going to savor this, eh Savior?”

  “No,” Erlos croaked from above. His voice was weak, but unwavering. “Remember the light. Do what is right, brothers! Save your souls!”

  Dax laughed. “You can bleed to death like Cuckerlos or you can have a turn with the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see. Now bring me that gold so she doesn’t burn off our cocks with her firepit!”

  Alexia tried to summon Seraxa, but her terror snuffed the flames. She reached for Balbaraq, but couldn’t harness the energy from the clear sky, her focus on protecting herself instead of others. She panicked, losing connection to the Divine.

  Dax loomed over her, undoing his belt, lowering his trousers, reaching for her, and with all her power, she couldn’t harness a single iota of energy, or even move her limbs.

  “No crying,” he said, his breath heavy with the scent of old beer. He reached into her robes, seizing her breasts, even though she couldn’t feel his touch.

  Then his eyes bulged. He choked on a gasp. His grip weakened, clenching at her robes with fading strength. Blades punctured his flesh again and again. Blood splattered across Alexia’s face as twelve former bandits chose Leverith with one final offering to Zamael.

  Alexia found Leverith waiting when she called on her divinity. Love had prevailed today. She stilled her mind, clearing the plate as Dax was thrown off her. Ethereal blue spiraled around her, her mind remembering the body. Her spine mended. Her cut arm sewed itself as if it were never torn. She could feel again.

  Dax wheezed on the ground. “Save me,” he begged. “I will follow you. I will change. I swear to all the Thirteen.”

  I cannot save them all. Alexia found Erlos’s limp hand hanging over the crater’s edge. But I can save some.

  Dreaming of Erlos growing into a leader of these redeemed men, a beacon of peace, justice, and love, she channeled Celegan. She stubbornly refused to let him die today. Refused to bury him. The crater pushed upward as the risen ground Erlos was upon flattened. Alexia grabbed Aurora, knelt over Erlos, quickly examining his wound. It was a heart shot.

  “Thank you,” he whispered. “Until next time.”

  “No easy death for you, Erlos. You promised to live a hard life.”

  Leverith’s light beamed from Aurora, wrapping around Erlos, as Alexia pulled the bolt through. The holes in Erlos’s back and chest sealed as flesh stretched into its proper place. Deeper, his heart became whole again.

  Trembling with disbelief, Erlos stood. His eyes glistened. “My brothers, I am proud of you!”

  One of the twelve from the crater took a step toward Alexia. The man had a huge scar from a slash across his face. He had his long knife drawn, dripping Dax’s blood. “What’s ter be proud of? We’ve been killin’ fer years. Dax was a damned bastard.”

  Another man, broad and powerful, brandished his bloody dagger. “Aye! The chief bastard is dead, but we will be too if we return to the law!”

  The bandit that was singing when Alexia entered camp spoke next, “Eton Pinhead wants our lives. Life of banditry ain’t fine livin’ but it’s still livin’. Now we ain’t gotta fear Dax too if we don’ wanna murder every poor sod we see.”

  Other men clamored to share their hesitation to end their banditry. Alexia listened to them, overwhelmed by their volume and the validity of their concerns. She opened her mouth to offer reassurances but stammered, realizing they were empty. Truth was, she began to doubt whether they could return to society, whether they would be executed no matter what she did, and whether they would stab her in the back when the opportunity arose. Her doubts and their overpowering skepticism sealed her mouth. Her mind went blank. She retreated into helplessness.

  The bandits argued over who was going to take the lead and what to do about Alexia. Several of them called for her restraint and one even fetched a golden bracelet to bind her powers. Alexia stared at her feet, only hearing them distantly through a fog of her own social anxiety. Bless Leverith that she’d already made a connection with Erlos.

  “My brothers!” Erlos bellowed, drawing them all to silence. “Look at ourselves!” Erlos walked to the singing chef. “Simon, you dream of running your own tavern.” Erlos walked to the shortest of the bandits. “And you, Sein. What of your talk of telling stories and plucking at your lute for Simon’s patrons?”

  Erlos touched a robust looking man’s shoulder. “Willem, I know that you dreamt of being a knight and we’ve spent nights lamenting that it was never meant to be for either of us.”

  Willem nodded before casting his eyes downward. Sein and Simon likewise had their eyes pulled toward the land.

  Erlos kept moving through the group. “I know your stories and have shared your pain at dreams broken.” He stopped beside a particularly handsome bandit. “Nico, how many times have I shared cups with you, lamenting love lost and the doubts that we could ever love again.”

  “Too many,” Nico said.

  Erlos moved to the scarred man with the bloody knife. “Jem.” He gently lowered Jem’s knife hand. “I get why you’re afraid to do the right thing. We know what happened on your sister’s wedding night, when the little shit thought he’d get Rite of First Night. You’re not a monster that stalks the weak. That’s why yours was the first blade inside Dax. You’re a protector.”

  Jem’s hand shook. Silent tears falling down his cheeks. He dropped the knife.

  Erlos embraced him. Jem squeezed Erlos, shaking with silent sobs.

  Erlos broke the embrace, both men wiping at their eyes and noses. Erlos gestured to the camp sweeping his arms and gaze across his brothers. “This is not who we want to be. We were made into this.” He pointed to Alexia. “She can make us into who we were meant to be.”

  Alexia felt their eyes on her. She tried not to hide, though every part of her wanted to disappear behind a mask, to blank out until this moment in the sun passed. She faced them, tears glistening in her eyes, her body shaking from the worries that ever plagued her.

  “She seeks to end the war that has taken so much away from all of us,” Erlos said. He took her hand. “She understands what it is like to be a weapon, to hurt others who’ve never hurt you, to want to do better but not know how. She cares about everyone, not just the highborn or the wealthy. She knows us and she will fight for us. Alexia knows the roads that brought us here when we never wanted to end up in this Hell. She knows the path to redemption, and she has the power to guide us all there.”

  Erlos let go, pacing toward his brothers. His passion restored her confidence, thrusting anxiety into its corner. “Don’t stay here in this darkness, drifting further from who you are. She will save us from the executioner’s axe! She will restore our true selves! We shall be redeemed!”

  Jem shook his head. His voice was as melancholy as any Alexia had ever heard. “Ye know what we’ve done, Erlos! We can’t be divinedamn redeemed!”

  Alexia stepped toward Jem. “I believe, I must believe, in redemption. We always have the choice to resist Zamael and embrace Leverith. We always have the choice to devote our lives to peace. We who were the monsters, the villains, can become heroes again. Though it might always seem dark, Leverith’s light guides our path to redemption.”

  “Embrace Leverith’s light!” Erlos called.

  Alexia smiled. She wove a beautiful pattern of blue light around her and felt Leverith’s love surge through her. “If you join me, I promise you will be absolved of your crimes and bounties. You have saved my life, and I will save yours even if it means I have to threaten kings and archlords. Join me and you can help bring peace and wholeness back to Leveria. Embrace Leverith’s light and you can become redeemed men.”

  She reached for more of Leverith’s divine power. Blue light swirled around her faster and more beautifully. A cyclone of love and dreams.

  “Will you embrace Leverith’s light?” Erlos bellowed.

  The twelve bandits studied each other. Jem stepped forward. “You’re fucking crazy, Erlos.” Jem grinned. “But so am I.” He put his dagger forward, still dripping with Dax’s life.

  Erlos held his woodsman’s axe beside Jem’s dagger and glanced at the undecided eleven. Alexia continued to make Leverith’s spirit spiral blue, threading it through all thirteen of them, connecting them to her, letting them feel her heart’s love for them.

  Sein and Simon stepped together and placed their blades in the circle with Erlos and Jem. “The Redeemed Men,” Sein crooned. “That is a ballad that shall be sung for a thousand years.” He grinned at large Willem. “Sir Willem the Redeemed.”

  The bulky beast of a man grunted. Stepping forward, he joined his sword to the circle. As he did, five others buckled and joined. Having crossed the midway point, Alexia’s anxiety began to abate.

  Nico, the pretty one, reached for Leverith’s light and tried to hold it to himself, wrapping his arms around air and then closing tight to his chest. He breathed the air as if it was his first fresh breath in years. Then he joined his rapier to the circle. The final two didn’t long endure the heckles of their companions, Jem loudest of all in welcoming them to becoming part of the madness.

  Once all had joined the circle, their weapons touching in the middle, Erlos repeated his call, “Will you embrace Leverith’s light?”

  Twelve voices became one. “Yes!”

  Alexia let Leverith’s light burst and dissipate within each of them. “Then, I look forward to the day ahead of us when you have earned the name I give you today: The Redeemed Men!”