Mat summed it all up in his mind. Eight of the knights could still hold themselves up, two needed to lay down next to Helen and get the same burning-knife cure as Helen got. But for six of them, there was no salvation. A sad day for the Knights of Ramtin.

The ox was still breathing, but he would be pulling no more cars ever again, more than a dozen arrows sticking out of him and a pool of blood soaking the dirty ground around him.

The old man said the words, “Sorry, old mate, sorry to see you go,” and then with a blade ended ox’s misery.

Mat wanted to say something, but his mouth was just too damn dry, so he pulled one of the arrows sticking from a side of the beer barrel, and placed a clay mug underneath, letting the golden liquid just flow in. There was still some of his blood in the mug, but Mat did not care.

“No need to waste any,” he grunted to himself, not sure if he was thinking of nano-h-cells or beer, probably both.

They left as soon as the knights got patched up and got their horses back, stringing two of them to pull the cart and placing their dead comrades on top of the others, not wanting to waste any time burying them.

“Those bastards might return at any moment. We better leave now,” the old man said.

“They might wait for us beyond the next curve,” Mamaran said, who seemed to have done just fine in the scrimmage with only a slight cut on his fighting right hand.

Mat was too busy emptying the mug to pay it any attention. He sat next to the old man as two horses pulled the cart, turning around when the beer had hit his empty belly, feeling all dizzy, looked at Princess's quiet face. Felt how vulnerable she was, and felt as if he would do anything to help her out, keep her safe.

It is so illogical. Have no chance here with her. Will be off this rock if I succeed. Will die together with her if I don’t.

Maybe on the account of it all, it made life look so scarce, so precious, made him eager to embrace it all, make the most of what he had.

The Captain saw Mat staring at the Princess and had approached him. “Thank you for your help, Farlander. The Princess was right. There’s more to you than… what I thought. So, I owe you an apology. If you did not come to our aid, who knows if any of us would still be alive. You have my sincere-”

“Forget it,” Mat stopped him but then took his eyes off staring at Helen to look at the man. He did not see a cripple anymore. There was pride and sadness in his words, somehow making Mat even more mellow. “No apology needed. No wonder they made you a Captain. You seem to fight just fine with one hand,” Mat said from the heart. “Better than most folks can do with both.”

It was true. The dead that the Captain piled around him did not escape Mat’s attention.

But the Captain's mood did not brighten. “Not good enough. We lost six brave young men today. Not good enough.”

Mat nodded his head and sighed. “It’s never good enough when you watch those close to your heart die.”

Mat wanted to say something to cheer the guy up, but could not find the words. Instead, he asked, “So what happened? The last I saw you, you were heading north. I thought you would be long gone by now.”

“Yes, we were going north. But then the reports came of the Paleskins crossing the Sow River, and we decided to stay behind, try to track them, sent a few scouts to nearby villages, and tell the folks what was going on.”

“Do they normally raid this far North?”

“No. Not in my lifetime, they had not. And from what he could see, there is a whole army of them. This here is just a scouting party.”

“Is that why… I don’t see… what were their names… Something funny, like Tom and Jerry.”

“You mean Link and Pirk?”

“Yes, that’s right. Did not see them among the dead.”

“Yes, they ran to inform the Sevens what is happening here. The whole country is in peril. Kings need to send their armies to the NoKing’s Land. We sent the pigeons to our commanders. The Knights will march here as soon as they can, but there are not enough of us to stand against the whole army. We need the help from the kings.”

“You think you’ll get it?”

“Hard to know. I hope so. If we don’t, the folks of these lands are as good as dead.”

After the Captain left, and two of them were left alone, the old man sighed deeply and said in a hushed voice. “You gave Princess your blood.”

“I know. Had to. It will make her stronger. Can’t explain. But you will see.”

“That’s a fullish thing to do. Devilish. Human blood is secret. Only Paleskins, Orcs, and other beasts drink it.”

“It will help her.”

“You play god.”

“You do not approve?”

That made the old man think a little. “Do you really think it would save her life?’

“Probably.”

“Not make her skin grow the color of ash, turn her into one of them?”

“No. No, it would not.”

“I hope you’re right. I know you are from far away and know of things differently. But here, the blood drinking in these parts is associated with… a lot of… things. None good. Associated with beings of the dark. Those that are rumored to practice such rituals are burned to the stake. I’ve seen the Priests burn a few. It’s never a nice thing. Would hate to happen to you.”

Maybe it was booze in his stomach that went more into his head than it should have. Maybe it was just weariness. But Mat just felt like he just did not care who knew what. “Fuck the Priests. Let them just try. I’ll send them to the same place I sent those Paleskiners there.”

The old man nodded his head and looked at Mat, then asked. “Have you ever met any of the Priests since you came here, Farlander?”

“None that I liked,” Mat answered that quickly, not really sure if that was true, the memory hole of the last few months still standing dark and quiet.

“The Priests are monsters of their own,” Mat added.

That made the old man chuckled. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”

“Fuck ‘um. Fuck ‘um all,” Mat said, realizing that he did not want to think how many rules of the Core he broke by letting the Princess drink nano-h-cells. Probably enough to get his ass canned for good. “Fuck the Core and the Priests and all the fucken’ lot, everyone who expects you to watch as good people die.”

“Seems you’re starting to remember things, at least things that are important,” the old man told him.

Mat pulled on the mug, not really ready to think about it. “Far from it. The last year… is still a black hole.”

“You know, ale… is good for forgetting. But if you want to remember, there are herbs and mushrooms. The Mother used to make a special mix them, boil them, and after you drink it, your mind would come out, whether you want it or not.”

That made Mat sigh. And think.

He could pour himself another mug, forget about all the threats and dangers. Forget about anything. But the alarm ran inside of him, a different kind of warning, certainly not from Pia. It could not have been Pia. It must have just been himself, asking him if he gets drunk and the monsters attack again, who would be there to defend the Princess?

So, he dropped the mug and decided to sober up.

That bravado… that’s fucken’ beer taking. Don’t fuck up.

For once he was glad that the planet went dark and that nobody could have seen what he had done.

“Yeah, if I don’t get better soon, maybe I’ll have some of the Monther’s brew,” Mat said, thinking he may actually need all the help he can find.

He woke up as they pulled in front of a big farmhouse.

It was dark, but about a half dozen torches and a pair of gas lights showed him that there were dozens of horses already inside the big stable.

“So, this is Big John’s place, huh?” Mat asked looking at the wooden sign hung high above the entrance door.

“Yes, my dear Farlander,” the old man answered, then added. “Don’t worry, you will be my guest tonight,” after seeing Mat digging through his pockets, realizing he had nothing of the value there.

Mat watched as four knights gently picked the cloth that held the Princess's limp body and carried her slowly inside. The Captain was there to open the door.

“Let me know when she wakes up,” Mat called on to him, more sure that the Princess was going to wake up than anyone around.

A big woman in her late fifties, with dirty apron tied around her waste, ran out to greet them, hugging Piercer harder than he seemed to want to be hugged.

“That’s my sister, Vaina,” the old man explained. “It’s her husband's name there on the sign, but she’s the one running this place.”

“Pee, I was so worried, the Knights came and told us,” Vaina started to talk, hugging him even harder.

“Don’t you worry, little sister. I’m fine. Never better. Even sobered up, if you can believe it. Now… This is aaaa…” the old man pointed to Mat but then suddenly remembered he did not know Mat’s name.

“Mat. I’m Mat.”

“He’s a Farlander. Saved all our lives out there. If it was not for him, I doubt you would be hugging me right now.”

“Thank you,” Vaina said and finally let go of the old man just to go and hug Mat hard.

“How is it inside?” the old man asked.

“Packed. A dozen of Knights came, but a lot of our folks too. Everyone’s scared. Quite a few families have already left.”

“A lot of travelers,” the old man said, looking at the stable. “When we built this thing, you said ‘why so big’, and look at it now. All packed up. Could not tie a donkey in there now. To bad it may all be burned to the ground soon.”

“Yes. We heard the news. And don’t you worry about the wagon. I’ll send Rem and his big brothers to take care of it all,” she said as she stopped the old man from going to attend to the horses.

“Go inside. You must be dead tiered and hungry,” she added. “I saved some food for you. They wanted it all, but there is a half of lamb in there for two of you.”

The old man hugged her sister hard, “You’re the best. And get yourself packing. I have to go to the City of Lan, and I ain’t leaving you behind. Not with the Paleskins lurking in every neck of the wood. So, let the boys load up the big wagon. We’re leaving with the first light tomorrow.”