“I bestow a final gift upon your race: Lifesongs. Go forth into the world my Benelim and live! Let your songs echo into the heavens forever and enjoy peace and prosperity." – Domina Terra, from the preface of the Book of Lifesongs.

  Leo shivered on the floor of the deck. A Benelim cloak was draped over him; its properties would warm him soon, but he was still terribly cold. Avella sat next to him and wasn’t much better. She finished recounting her duel and how the rogue got away. Her words were slurred, and she looked exhausted, more so than he had been after a three-day march.

  “I just wish I had been able to apprehend him." grumbled Avella, "This man could have been the key to this whole conspiracy.”

  “You did what you could,” said Leo.

  “You did more than that,” affirmed Petro. “You saved our lives! Both of you. I am in your debt.” Petro knelt on one knee. “If you will allow me to help you. Besides, what is going on with your people is now meddling with affairs in my realm as well.”

  Leo stumbled to his feet. There were bodies everywhere, Benelim and Maelim alike. Blood, both red and black, stained the hull. Arrows and bolts were piercing the deck like a pincushion at a tailor. The ships were still stuck together. The surviving crew strained to dislodge the bridge to no avail.

  “What are we going to do now?” asked Leo, bringing the unspoken issue into the open.

  Petro kicked the bridge and grumbled. “There’s no way that we can get that bridge off. We don’t have enough rowers either.”

  “What about the Maelim vessel?” asked Avella. “Their ship is much larger; maybe they have rowboats in case the ship sinks.”

  “Maelim don’t usually think that far ahead,”

  “A Godshard might,” said Leo. “And I have a hunch. We need to see what’s on that vessel in any case.”

  They crossed the bridge. It was bumpy and didn’t feel as stable as Leo was expecting. Nevertheless, it held up. Curio went below deck.

  Bodies littered the Maelim vessel too; many of the Benelim bolts hit their marks, and the ship was over capacity. One body, in particular, stood out to Leo. He didn’t know why at first. It was just a tan-skinned Maelim in a black clo—Wait. Leo rushed over and knelt down.

  “What is it?” asked Petro.

  Leo brushed the hood back with his scabbard to reveal his suspicions. It was a human. “I knew it.”

  “There were humans among them?” Petro tapped the body with his boot. Underneath his robes was a silver medallion depicting a serpent. “That’s a first.”

  “The very same robed figures that trailed us to Raveno and probably who took our horses.”

  Avella nodded and added, “They were likely the underlings of that rogue Godshard.”

  “The Maelim commander said something about how nice it was to ‘have good friends’; this raises disturbing questions.”

  “Indeed,” Petro said, placing his head in his hands. “Signore Alessandro gave us his blessing to be on these rivers, but if some nefarious person on the inside is working with the Maelim, that could mean our whole operation is compromised.”

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  “This goes much deeper than the politics between your people and Raveno,” replied Avella. “This rogue Shard appears to be just another piece in this proverbial puzzle. We suspect daemons and spawns of the Nameless One are working together, but where does this fellow play into this? He appears to be connected in his own right, having ties with humans and Maelim. With every answer, we get more questions. We don’t know how deep this web unravels.”

  Curio gestured below deck. “Down here!”

  ……………………

  The boat was surprisingly well made, but it was likely not the Maelim’s. Whatever the case, it was the little things that Leo was latching onto now. There was hardly room for them all. The storm had died considerably, but rain still poured around them in a faint blue mist. They heaved at the oars. They had only four of them, and shuffling them in and out of foamy surf took great exertion. Leo felt like his lungs were on fire. They all took turns, on rotation every hour or so.

  Leo saw Petro looking behind them. The two vessels were slowly sinking beneath the currents. Wooden islands lowering bit by bit. Scuttled hours prior. His face was stern, but Leo could hear a faint sigh from his throat.

  It was a familiar numbness to Leo, the dead silence after battle. This one was quieter than most. He looked around at the surviving Benelim. The pitifully few of them, that is. The last time Leo had been in a battle this bloody was when things ended with Elizabeth. Their faces were just as empty as his, no doubt.

  “I’m sorry for your crew,” said Leo.

  “They knew the risks,” muttered Petro. “The Great Shepard will see to their safety.”

  Petro’s gaze never left the vessel. He was unbothered by the large oar in his hand or the rain dripping off his antlers. The glare only intensified as the Manticore-shaped ram dunked beneath the waves, the river claiming the ship at last. “Fifty years.”

  A fresh coating of foam drenched the boat, causing Leo to rub the water out of his ears. “What?”

  “That vessel was under my command for fifty years. It was my home.” Petro took a deep breath. “What an unfortunate segment added to my Song.”

  “Easy, Imperator,” said Curio. His voice was still raspy from his wound. “Even the greatest of us have lows.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said Leo. “If anything, it was ours.”

  Petro shook his head. “Just keep rowing.”

  Vessels appeared on either side of them, and Leo tensed, his jaw clenched as he put a hand on his sheath. The colors of the ships’ sails brought hope for rescue. The large vessels grew closer and closer. It was a dangerous affair, as they were clumsy. One nearly hit their little rowboat. Leo spat swears in reply.

  Heavy ropes were draped off one of the ships. Leo guided Avella first. The coils were slippery, and they had to climb slowly and carefully. One oarsman fell back into the ship, his helmet falling off and into the river. It was draining, and it took Leo’s last strength to climb aboard. He flopped onto the deck of the rescue vessel. Heavy breaths of relief escaped his mouth.

  Avella gently helped Leo to his feet. She didn’t look nearly as exhausted as he did; although her outfit was just as messy as his. Her eyes were soft and serene. Leo was entranced, for as the sun gently pierced the clouds and beamed down on them, she looked more like a Goddess at the moment than a mortal. A being of comfort and security. She moved her lips, then paused, before speaking. “Mago Aeneas is still in Tressviae. I haven’t been able to contact him; his presence is weakening.” Leo could only nod.

  Several hours of welcome reprieve were theirs until they finally reached the pier of Tressviae. There was a crowd of people waiting for them. A commotion that no one wanted to address. But like many things this day, it was out of their hands. The boat pulled up to the dock. Angela was there barking orders, and milizia kept the crowd at bay, so they had space to disembark. Never had Leo been so happy to see these buildings.

  “Cousin!” shouted a voice in the crowd, and a familiar Benelim appeared, Ioannes Mercator. Petro saw him, and they embraced. “I was gravely worried when I heard what happened.”

  “What did you hear?” asked Petro.

  “Some kind of battle down the river; we could see a flashing light.”

  “That would have been one of my spells,” said Avella. “Apologies for disturbing you all.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re safe. Where are the others?”

  “We’re all that’s left, kid,” said Curio.

  Avella leaned in and whispered in Leo’s ear, “We need to get moving.”

  Leo nodded. “Do you know where in Tressviae this Godshard is?”

  “Indeed.”