"To fight amongst ourselves is the ultimate failure. If you must battle another Shard though, you must be quick and decisive. The longer the fight, the worse it is for everyone, including yourself." - Samuel the Reformer, one of the few Shards who has taken the life of another.

  Leo could only watch in horror as Avella shot away from the ship. The rogue had sent her lightning bolt back at her! His ears were still ringing from the thunderclap. The rogue Godshard landed on the boat. Benelim fired their crossbows, only for the bolts to be deflected back at their wielders, who fell at the hands of their own rounds.

  The traitorous Godshard walked toward Leo, eyes narrowed. Leo charged the Godshard, his sword held above him. The weapon clanged against the barrier, causing the weapon to vibrate, nearly falling out of Leo’s hands. The rogue raised an arm, and in moments, Leo hit the edge of the deck. He let out a wordless gasp, struggling to breathe.

  A long tendril of fire lashed out of the surf, winding around the rogue’s barrier before going taut and yanking him away from the vessel. Leo looked over; it was still quite dark, and the rain made it hard to see anything. But a stray flash of lightning illuminated Avella as she emerged from the river, the water dripping around her barrier like a shell. Her glowing eyes simmered with fury as she slammed the rogue into the waves with her flaming whip.

  This was her fight, and Leo knew he couldn’t help her. They were having problems of their own.

  The Maelim roared eagerly as they made another charge across the bridge. The Benelim thrusted their spears. Maelim shoved smaller and weaker soldiers forward to take spear points and bolts. Stronger and bulkier Maelim followed in their wake. By sheer weight, the Benelim gave ground.

  A great roar boomed before a large creature, a Maelim bigger and nastier than the rest, launched from the other ship. His arms were muscular, with ape-like posture, covered in serrated spikes. His armor was scaled and black with icy blue gildings. He had a long navy-blue cape that flowed in the rain-drenched breeze. He wore a black helm with a blue crest; his face was scarred and torn. Protruding out of his cheekbones were two great tusks.

  He collided with the tower shields, smashing them away, the spear points brushing off him. He beheld the Benelim with evil eyes and snorted, smoke billowing out of his nostrils.

  The Maelim commander spotted Petro, who pointed his sword at him. The commander grinned. “Oh, your head’s gonna be mine.” His voice was deep and raspy, and his Cradlen was heavily accented. “Kill the others, but no one fucking touch their leader!” With a foul cheer, the Maelim charged forth, the battle devolving into a desperate melee.

  Leo was in the thick of it. A Maelim with long arms and ram horns jabbed at him with a crooked spear. He was slow, and Leo dodged the attack before slitting his throat. He choked on his blood and keeled over. Another one hefted a great battle axe with both hands. Leo lifted his blade to block the strike just in time, his arms strained, weighed down by his rain-drenched sleeves. He smashed the Maelim’s pale face with the hilt of his sword before stabbing him in the gut. The creature gave a defiant snarl as his orange eyes faded.

  For everyone he killed, Leo saw two more come aboard. He looked around; Curio was holding his own, decapitating a Maelim, his sword slick with black blood. The others weren’t so lucky. One Benelim was tackled by a short and scrawny Maelim, biting into his face with glassy serrated teeth. Two Maelim double-teamed a Benelim; one slashed his hand off, the other impaled him in the neck with a longhorn protruding from his blackened forehead.

  He looked over to Petro. The two warriors clashed with each other. Petro brought his sword down only to be blocked by the bladed armor, dodging the returning swipe easily. Petro slashed at the exposed arm with a flick of his antlers, drawing blood. With a roar, the Maelim charged him, using his tusks to try and impale him, only for Petro to lock his antlers with them. The momentum forced Petro to give ground.

  The rogue Godshard rose from the waves elsewhere on the river. Avella knew that he must be using some form of deflection magic. Potent, but not unstoppable. She muttered more incantations, grabbed five spellstones, and outstretched her hand.

  A great ball of lightning coalesced in her palm. The lightning bolt multiplied, and five different currents lashed out at the Rogue. He backed away, startled. Each bolt hit from a different angle. The first one was deflected and shot back into the nearby wood. The rest were too quick and blasted against the barrier, and more and more cracks appeared. It was working!

  One more bolt should do it. Confident, she sent another great burst of lightning at him. The bolts didn’t strike him but seemingly got overtaken by him. The bolt fractured and split, curling around his arms. He outstretched his palms, and radiant energy began to manifest like a pair of ethereal daggers—the bolts connected to these, the intensifying red glow painting the rogue in an inhuman light.

  The rogue Shard multiplied; ghostly versions of him closed the distance from all sides, stabbing aggressively at her barrier. She couldn’t tell which stabbing figure was the real one. They were everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The assault disoriented her senses as it sent her flying over the river.

  The barrier grew weaker, cracks beginning to form. She unbound her last fireball spell and shot it forward, only to have the energy blades cut through it. She grunted from each impact; she couldn’t hold it much longer. His espionage spells were strong with the skill to use them. But she wasn’t done yet! She closed her eyes as she conjured her next spell, spinning her hand circularly.

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  With a tremendous swinging punch as a coup de grace, the rogue Shard brought down his fist. Avella’s eyes opened wide. A great ring of fire shot out in all directions. The blaze hit him head-on, shattering his barrier.

  The rogue’s ghostly visions merged into one. The lightning around his arms short-circuited, and he convulsed in pain. Muttering another incantation, she reached a hand over the water, a column swirling and twisting right toward him. The water began taking shape. Avella always loved this part; what should it be? A horse? No. A bull. The water complied, and with a roar collided with the rogue. The rogue Godshard screamed in pain as he was flung back to the shore. He tried to get up only to have vines ensnare his limbs.

  She hovered before him, arm raised in case he tried anything. She panted heavily. “You are under arrest, traitor!”

  Back at the ship, the situation was getting worse by the minute. Leo was pressed from all sides; he and the Benelim fought for their lives. His arms were sore and bore cuts from several near misses.

  Petro’s helm was torn in half with a vicious backhand as the Maelim slammed him into the deck. The brute was unbothered by his wounds, pinning Petro’s sword hand underfoot. The Benelim screamed, much to the warlord’s delight. The Maelim raised his arm as he prepared the killing blow.

  A blade plunged into his torso from behind, poking through the front. Leo had fought hard through the press of battle to get there in time. He’d had to wedge his sword through the armor, but he hit his mark. The Maelim leader roared in pain and elbowed Leo, forcing him to pull away.

  Turning to face Leo, the brute snickered, raising his arms in a welcoming gesture. “Come on then, human. Show me what you got. After all, you’re the reason these Benelim are dying.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Leo.

  The Maelim leader winked and said, “It pays to have good friends.”

  Leo charged, bringing his greatsword down. The Maelim blocked it quickly and lunged; Leo jumped out of the way just in time, a dent of splintered wood where he had been seconds earlier.

  Seizing the opportunity, Leo slashed at the warlord’s arm, slipping under the straps of the armor, tearing it off, the sword’s blade biting deep into his flesh. Leo carved a bloody path up to the shoulder before a savage kick pushed him away. The Maelim staggered back, dazed and in pain. He roared in rage and rushed at Leo, but Leo sidestepped the charge and stabbed the warlord in his side.

  The Maelim swung his arm with disturbing speed, tearing Leo’s tunic open, leaving three red gashes. Leo gritted his teeth; the wounds stung fiercely. A knee to the stomach sent Leo to the ground in a voiceless scream, the wind knocked out of him. Leo clawed desperately for his sword. His fingers struggled to grasp the hilt. He could almost reach it. The warlord loomed over Leo, his eyes manic and bloodshot, pointing his tusks at Leo’s face.

  The beast rammed his horns into the deck. One of the tusks scaped Leo’s skin as he rolled to the side. His arms were bleeding, but he fought through the pain. At last, the hilt of his sword was finally in his grasp! Leo took his blade in both hands, held it overhead before coming down and decapitating the warlord. As black blood gushed onto the ground, the remaining Maelim paused.

  Leo pulled Petro to his feet. The surviving crew gathered at the back of the ship in a last knot of resistance. There were ten of them left, including Leo, Petro, and Curio. The Maelim roared with renewed anger and charged once more.

  “It’s been an honor fighting at your side, human,” said Curio, his voice raspy and thin from a gash that nearly slit his throat.

  “The honor is all mine,” replied Leo.

  Back at the shore, Avella sat on a nearby stump. Her eyes never left the rogue. While her power recharged, she had hoped to glean some information now that she had subdued him, but he would not give her an inch.

  “If you speak now, it would greatly benefit you later.” She could confirm he was conscious, but he hadn’t moved, and his breathing was slight. Suddenly, his head tilted, juddering like an automaton. He began to cackle uproariously.

  She glowered. “What’s so funny?” The rogue gestured behind her. She slowly and cautiously turned her head.

  It was the ship. Through her Soulsight, she could see Leo and the surviving Benelim. They were all about to die. Not if she could help it. She began to chant a spell with her hand, keeping the other one trained on the rogue.

  The vines holding the rogue Godshard burned to ash, and he started to fly away. Avella chanted another spell quickly, and a spectral hand grabbed him, forcing him back to the ground. A flash of pain rippled through her. Avella hadn’t completed her previous attack before conjuring the hand!

  She needed to finish it and fast. The rogue was not giving up either. He pushed and strained with all his might, throwing her off balance every time she tried to cast. The pain was growing; she had to do something soon. She had no more bound spells, and she had no more time.

  She had to make a choice.

  Surely the loss of the Benelim and Tenente Leo would be seen as acceptable if she’d apprehended the traitor. It would be tragic, but they all knew the dangers. A rogue Shard was a dangerous prospect, and there were many, many questions that her sacerdozio would have for the traitorous Shard. He could be the missing link that they needed.

  She let the rogue go, and he flew away into the sky.

  No, she was a Godshard; she followed the teachings of the Twin Path, the example of David and Solomon. What would it say about her if she let people die when she had the power to save them?

  She turned back to the ship and finished the incantation. A great burst of wind surged the vessel, churning and shifting to take on an unknown form.

  Avella cringed; the toll had been too much. She’d been on the knife’s edge, and that tipped her over. With great exertion, she hovered in the air. Her breathing was heavy, and tired eyes locked on the ship. She was fading fast, but she had to keep going. She had to make it back.

  On the vessel, the wind took the form of warriors, soldiers of mist. Despite their wispy appearance, they grabbed onto the Maelim and shoved them overboard. The survivors rallied, and with the wind spirits aiding them, the Maelim were all slain.

  There was no cheer or celebration, just exhaustion.

  “What was that?” asked Curio.

  Leo stumbled to the port side and saw Avella hovering over the waters. “She’s back!”

  Petro limped by Leo’s side, his eyes squinting and said, “Does she have the rogue?”

  Leo wasn’t listening. She was sinking lower and lower before she dropped into the tides. Leo immediately dove into the water. It was cold, and his clothing bogged him down. He stripped off his tunic and puffy sleeves. He heaved and thrust himself forward through the surf.

  She was limp, floating on the waves. The river was threatening to take her downstream. He grabbed onto her unconscious form and dragged her back to the ship. Petro and Curio were waiting, and they sent down ropes. Leo hauled them on board.

  Leo collapsed onto his back, eyes up to the cloudy skies, heart racing in his chest. Avella stirred, much to Leo’s relief.