Cloth material whipped fiercely against Blair’s head as something massive raced by, ripping through the air right behind them. The steam carriage swayed erratically as a Bloodcloak clung on to the vehicle. People scrambled from its unpredictable path, only for the carriage to swerve into a storefront. Glass shattered, wood splintered, and bricks crumbled as the steamwagon smashed into the building. The Zherrai-Myr went airborne from the collision, then hit the sidewalk, his cloak indistinguishable from his own blood.
Blair felt themself being yanked, and found Rue frantically pulling them along through the chaos. Townsfolk and Bloodcloaks ran amok, their priorities skewed between the invasion and the wreck—a prime opportunity to take advantage of the pandemonium and escape. They met Rue’s pace as she trailed Oz and his kitbag, she shot a quick glance behind them.
“We lost Gus and Audrey!” her trembling voice punctuated by ragged breaths, but Rue didn’t clarify whether they were simply separated or if something even worse had happened.
Regardless, they couldn’t afford to turn back for them. Less than a week ago, they’d already lost the others back at the farmhouse, and now, their numbers dwindled even further. No matter how many times they’ve experienced this, the ache and dread relentlessly gnashed away at them. Further ahead, they saw the rucksack descending into a canal. The two reached the access stairs soon after and discovered Oz commandeering a small utility boat, he saw them and hastily beckoned them with a waving gesture.
Blair followed Rue down the steps, tensing up when they entered the stillness Oz cast. Blair had never known Oz to use his magic to escape pursuit, but neither of them have encountered a raid this massive either. Once they were situated, Oz knelt over the stern. The boat jolted as it soundlessly started through the canals. Blair kept their eyes up to the bridges and sidings to monitor for sentries, but the three of them crouched as low to the boat as the space would allow.
A mute wind whisked around them as the boat picked up speed. Blair remembered what Oz said about the waterways of Nelenurth. All I can do is trust that he knows what he’s doing. A smoky haze dyed the evening sky above the canal, supplemented by the strong, odorous mix of mustiness and sulfur layering the watercourse. Will Gus and Audrey make it out okay? The thought weighed on their mind. Did Audrey intentionally lead us into all of this?
Blair glanced at Rue, if they could voice their concerns, they could imagine Rue defending her—I don’t think so—she would probably say—I’m sure Audrey would have stopped us if she believed this would have happened the way it did. Trusting to a fault, as always.
What would it take? Blair considered. What would cause you to withhold your trust—to always carry suspicion of everyone you meet? The thought sent a pang through Blair’s chest. I don’t want to imagine that. A shadow cast over the boat as they passed under a bridge. I don’t want to know that Rue; that wouldn’t even be Rue.
Light chased away the darkness as the resonance of splashing water, obnoxious winds, and a running motor met them upon exiting of the tunnel. Blair was shocked by both the loud, sudden return of sounds and the open wetlands before them. “What happened?” They asked as they turned around, their gaze shifted from an equally stupefied Oziomon up to the overview. Looking down at them was another one of the soulless Beholden. It’s just one trap after the next. Blair lost their balance as the boat bucked, Oz was pushing the motor to its limits to get them as far and as quickly as possible.
“It figures we would run straight into a dispel screen.” Oz growled. “If I ever see Audrey again—” a pop rang out behind them. “—shit! Stay low, you two!” He worked the steering handle with a gentle sway, enough to change the boat's straight path without tipping it over. Even the sun setting, they were still visibly exposed out in the open. Cracks continued to thunder throughout the marsh. Birds took to the air to flee both gunfire and motorboat. In the distance, the fen extended towards a forest covered hill.
“Oz!” Blair called out.
“I see it!” He barked. “Hang on!” The utility boat swerved from the open water into the tall grass. The additional cover came at the cost of the speed they relied on, but the priority was moving directly to a safety rather than remaining vulnerable. The number of shots lessened after they changed their direction, while a few dedicated agents—undoubtedly virgins—kept up the effort.
*thunk*
A harsh grinding churned behind them, then the motor went quiet. The utility boat lurched through the reeds for a moment longer before coming to a stop. Blair stared at the trees—so near and yet beyond their reach. A heavy hand gripped their shoulder and drove them into the water. The combination of the enveloping chill, the stinging sensation of submerged sinuses and the muddy bottom being closer than anticipated shocked Blair back into focus. They flailed about, trying to right themself and resurface, relieved to find the marsh was chest deep where they landed.
Blair hacked and coughed water out of their airways. “What the—” Rue surfaced next to them, just as discombobulated. Oz trudged past them, carrying the bag on his shoulders. “A warning would hav—”
Oz spun around. “Fucking move!” His demand was emphasized by a reinspired volley firing at them. Blair scooped their arm around Rue and waded through the reeds. The towering trees that heralded the night drew closer; at some point the gunshots ceased, but a recovery party was certainly wasn’t far behind.
The three crawled out of the bog and into the concealment of the forest. It may as well have been the middle of a moonless night under the forest canopy. Blair and Rue took a moment to squeeze out their water-laden clothes. Oz staggered ahead of them before collapsing to his knees, the rucksack dropping off to his side.
“Oz, are you alright?” Rue asked as she hurried over to him. His response came in the form of strained breathing through his teeth. “Blair, I need your help.”
Blair approached the figures muttering their incantation as they rubbed their hands together. Palms illuminated, Blair held their hands over Oz. Rue grabbed their wrist and pulled them downward. Oz grunted as Rue tore at his right pant leg.
“Oh no, Oz…” Ruusuz murmured.
A deep, thumb sized wound centered in the man’s calf, dark blood oozed out freely. Blair retracted their hand out of instinct. When did this happen? “Oz, have you been walking around with that this whole time?” They asked.
“Didn’t even feel it until now.” Oz hissed as Rue ran her hand along his shin.
“There’s no exit wound.” She said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“No time for that.” The former soldier scooped up some mud from the pooling water and blood, then smeared it over the penetration. He coated the wound as well as he could, but the bleeding persisted.
“Oz, don’t.” Blair cautioned. They stepped toward the rucksack and pulled at the straps, but it wouldn’t budge. Blair tried again, but couldn’t lift the bag. Oz rose to his feet, a groan slipped out as he shifted his weight. “Oz.” they repeated.
He lifted the bag, his entire frame shuddering as he hoisted it onto his back.
“Oz, we can just leave it behind.” Rue implored.
“Without this bag.” Oz huffed. “We all die.”
“I’d rather have you.” Blair admitted.
Oz tried to pass a whimper off as a growl while he hobbled forward on his injured leg. “Then you better keep up, Blair.” He picked up a steady speed, despite his limp. “We have a long night of running if we want to get out of this alive.”
Hours into the relentless night, stumbling blindly through wooded hills began to take its toll on their bodies and spirits. As much as Blair wanted to light their way, a Beholden would have picked up on their trail and inevitably ensured their capture. Building a fire was out of the question as well. Even with their constant movement, the combination of drenched clothing and the nocturnal chill sapped away at their strength.
Blair’s teeth clattered as they kept climbing, it was the only noise they could hear as the nightlife remained further down the hill. They lost track of how long they have been on the incline, but they should have reached a plateau of some sort by now. Oz lumbered ahead, keeping a steady pace, but it was only a matter of time before exhaustion collected its dues. Even in the eigengrau, Blair could make out Rue’s silhouette—a hunched, trembling figure trudging along. She had fallen a few times earlier and kept hugging herself tightly, rubbing her arms to stay warm but gave little time for her to steady herself.
Oz stopped and let out a subdued bellow before his profile slumped against a tree. Blair and Rue worked their way up to him. “I can… I can keep…” His shuddered breathing cut through the dark followed by some rustling. Blair collapsed next to him, holding him down as Rue joined them. “We can’t stop—we can’t stop now.” He protested.
“We have to stop.” Blair’s voice was roughened by their dry throat. They felt something being forced into their hands—Rue’s canteen. Blair fumbled around for the cap then took a quick, but generous swig. “We need to stop.” They reiterated as they pressed the bottle into Oz’s grasp.
Grateful gulping preceded an exhale. “If we’re stationary for too long, they’re bound to find us.” Oz resigned as his reach crossed over Blair.
“Yeah, well if they catch us, then they’ve earned it.” Blair muttered. “I can’t keep going, not like this.” The cap fastened onto the canteen, Rue pressed into Blair, who pressed onto Oz. Their bodies shivered arrhythmically.
“Someone will need to stay awake—” Oz shuddered “—keep watch.”
The combined warmth brought an iota of comfort, the only comfort felt in these harrowing hours. “I’ll do it.” Blair lied. “Just rest.” They came to the realization that the wind was hauntingly absent, in a way that felt almost unnatural, especially at their height. It was as if nature offered them a quiet reprieve so brief—an almost cruel illusion, fleeting and fragile. Far be it from me to turn down a gift, even as modest as this. Blair closed their eyes, sleep came quickly.
And just as quickly—it left. Blair was awoken by an errant gust. the sky above softly illuminated by the sun that had yet to crest, which made their surroundings clearer. As far as they could see through bleary eyes, their spontaneous sanctuary wasn’t discovered nor in immediate danger of being discovered. Not only that, the hill’s opposite slope started just a few meters away. Their shifting stirred Rue awake; she sat up suddenly—mirroring the same survey Blair had just done.
“We—” she winced, then opened the canteen to take a drink. “—we made it through the night…” Her tone was so unclear that it was hard to tell if she was making a statement or asking a question. She handed them the canteen then reached over to the still sleeping Oz, placing her knuckle against his moist forehead. “Feverish”
Blair took a swig. “I’m just glad he didn’t bleed out, considering…” Rue lifted herself up, the cold morning air quickly took residence in her place. Blair rose to their feet next. Muscle, bone, and stomach ached immensely—at least the bladder and bowels had enough sense to read the room. They looked down at Oz, the big man never looked so small—so feeble than he did in that moment. “We should wake him.” Blair said, in the same indecisive tone.
“You think so?” Rue asked.
Blair nodded. “It’s what he would have wanted us to do.” They looked up at the gradually brightening sky. “He’ll probably be mad we slept so long.”
Rue knelt down and gently shook Oz’s shoulder. His eyes snapped open with an equally sharp inhale. “Are we—”
“—we’re safe,” Rue assured him, handing over the canteen “at least for now.”
“How’s your leg?” Blair asked.
He winced as he rotated his ankle. “I’ll be surprised if I’ll get to keep it.” His voice strained through gritted teeth.
“You can lose it after we get off this mountain, soldier.” Blair felt terrible for saying it, but Oz always met that kind of challenge with unwavering action—yet, was this taking too far? I don’t want to push him to breaking even more than he already is.
Oz’s face tightened, likely from the combination of pain and resolve. Using the tree trunk as support, he slowly rose to his feet. Rue and Blair stood by to assist, knowing full well that even together they wouldn’t have been able to lift him, with or without the massive kitbag. Blair spotted a fallen branch nearby just tall enough to serve as a walking stick. They lifted it and brought it to the injured man, but it still didn’t feel like enough.
“You had to have packed some medical supplies in there.” Blair said. “Why don’t we open it up? It should lighten the load for you too.”
“No.” He declined “If they happen upon us, you’d have to leave the supplies.” With that, he took a hesitant step forward, followed by another.
“Oz.” Blair called out. He turned slightly, as not to imbalance himself. “Let’s just take it slow—conserve our energy. We don’t need to hurry.”
He nodded, then continued, keeping a laggardly pace on the downhill slope. Blair and Rue joined him on the cautious descent. Along the way, a parting of trees revealed a large body of water coated in mist. “That must be the Beresston Sound.” Oz sighed. “Just like the Pohegar, that leads out to the Ithcier.”
Blair frowned, Oz was implying—intending to flee Arenoor. Maybe we can just travel along the coast… But the reality set in …And go through this again and again, welcoming people into your life only to lose them because of your hardheadedness. They looked to Rue and Oz. You’re all I have left; I don’t have the capacity to lose any more.
Rue noticed Blair’s gaze. “What is it, Blair?”
They stepped around a small boulder, dragging their fingers across its rough surface. “I’ve never been on a boat before,” they admitted “so I’m afraid I won’t be much help starting out.”
Rue stared at them as Oz chuckled. “It needs to be a sailboat; we’ll have to oar out until it’s safe enough to unfurl.” He explained. “Rue can take us out from there.”
Blair felt the impulse to argue that Rusuuz wasn’t some tool, but quickly yielded at the realization that Rue’s ability was ideal for sailboat travel. “I’ll keep an eye out.”
The sounds of forest life intensified with the rising sun and their descent. As welcome as the chittering bugs and singing birds were compared to the stark heights, every moment shift in motion, each rustle in the leaves kept them on edge, testing their vigilance. For Blair, there was reckoning—We’ll finally be safe once Arenoor is far behind us—a resounding finality rather than an unequivocal surrender. If true liberation and justice are meant to overthrow this oppressive regime, it will have to be someone else’s fight. Blair once thought they could be a beacon of resilience, but a light that is snuffed out only deepens the surrounding darkness.
The tree line met the shores of the Beresston Sound, where Oz directed them to the follow the coast to the south. Eventually, the forest broke away from the lapping waves and a small town on the bay came into view. They debated on waiting until nightfall to steal a vessel, but Oz insisted that the swirling mists in the channel offered just as much coverage as the darkness could. Blair and Rue conceded, knowing that every second counted and that the relentless Zherrai-Myr could close in without warning.
They first marina they came across was a fair distance from the town, a large house loomed nearby—likely a prominent family’s private dock. Blair could imagine Audrey being right at home; but they struck the diviner’s visage from their mind. Staying out of sight they assessed the scene.
Oz pointed to the lone, two-masted sailboat moored to the dock. “You two board the ketch, make sure no one is inside and raise the anchor.” He pointed to Rue and Blair, respectively. “I’ll toss in the kitbag and unmoor the boat from the dock.”
“Okay.” Blair answered, taking Rue’s hand. The two of them dashed towards the pier. Feet pounded against wooden boards and water splashed against the supporting poles. Blair kept their eyes on the sailboat, much bigger than they anticipated. They scanned the vessel’s frame and spotted a taut rope trailing into the water. Blair let Rue ahead on the narrow ramp before bounding onto the deck, Oz came up in their peripherals as they raced toward the anchor line.
Blair grabbed the rope and began pulling, but the line wouldn’t budge. They shifted their footing to try again only for the body-sized bag to crash down onto the deck behind them with a jarring thud, knocking Blair off balance. The rough rope briefly ran across their palms, but burned enough for Blair to release it. “Shit.” They snatched the rope again and managed to tug the anchor loose.
They worked the anchor line upward; saltwater found every crack in their raw hands; eventually the water relinquished the weight. They didn’t know where the anchor was supposed to go, so Blair saw fit to drop it onto the deck much like the kit bag. They felt the thud, but didn’t hear it. Blair couldn’t hear anything.
They whipped around to see Oziomon still on the pier, tossing the ramp aside and using his bad leg to push them away from the dock. Blair screamed soundlessly as the boat drifted away from the marina. Oz flung his arms outward with frantic urgency, his face twisted in anguish—a look that burned itself into Blair’s memory. He turned around, as though something caught his attention, then set off towards land in a halting, uneven sprint—only for his shot leg to give out. It took everything in Blair to keep themself from looking away as Oz struggled to get back up and lurched towards the tree line on three limbs.
Blair felt something knock into them, they faced a tearful Rue, her lips wordlessly moving. They had to move; Oz gave them this chance. That’s right, the oars. Their own eyes blurry, Blair looked around the deck for oars, but found none. Blair pantomimed to Rue about the lack of manual propulsion, then pointed to the large sail. Neither of them were familiar with sailboats, all they could do was haphazardly pull at whatever strap or mechanism they could hoping with would unfurl the sail. The stillness prevented any audible indications, so when part of the fabric opened up, they hurried to figure out what they manipulated so they could do it again.
A crank mechanism was affixed to the mast; Blair had rotated it momentarily before moving onto the next possibility. They spun the handle around again and the fabric opened in turn. Blair gestured to Rue as they belligerently ran the crank. They felt a breeze pick up from behind them, Rue was already calling the winds that would carry them to freedom. The rotating motion came to an abrupt stop as the crank handle broke away from the mechanism and fell to the deck. Where did it go? Blair couldn’t hear where it dropped so they knelt down to search for it. We’ll need it to furl the sail again.
Blair looked up towards the pier, even with Rue’s wind picking up, the heavy veil of mist refused to cede. They could make out the outlines of a small group gathered on the dock. That’s one less worry. Blair returned to their search; the kitbag made the effort more cumbersome. They worked around Rue, making sure not to disturb her focus. Just as Blair was about to give up, they found it across the deck, nestled in the anchor line they dropped earlier. They heaved a heavy, silent sigh of relief and took a moment to close their eyes and feel the cool ocean spray. The breeze then carried an oddly warm spatter, followed by something warm and heavy.
They fell backward as Rue crashed into them. Blair rolled her onto her side What happ—
Rue looked up at them, her eyes brimming with sheer terror. Just beneath her collarbone, blood gushed from an open wound. Blair shrieked soundlessly, pressing their hand onto the gruesome hole while adjusting Rue into a prone position.
Rue! No, please baby, stay with me! All words of comfort robbed by the stillness. Settling her on the deck, Blair pulled their had away from her back, also coated in blood. No.
Rue held Blair's arm in a tight grip with one hand, all the while raising the other up past their face. The sensation of wind grew stronger above them. Blair cradled Rue in their arms, desperate to feel the heartbeat that couldn’t be heard. Whether their apologies were whispered softly or torn from their soul in anguished screams, the stillness refused to carry the weight of their sorrow. The boat sailed on through the enveloping mists.