This time the cry had been male. It must have come from another Imperial soldier.

“No, get the dog, bountyhunter, get the dog!” shouted Elrann.

“This will be easier if I eliminate the men first,” called Vish. His voice was calm, clinical, even amidst the chaos of the chase.

“What is going on back there?!” shouted Sagar.

“I don’t know!” said Ryn. “I can’t see right now! I’ve got to look forwards to steer!”

“He just threw something at one of the soldiers pursuing us!” Elrann called. “Something sharp! It hit him in his visor!”

“Quiet,” said Vish. “I must focus now.”

Another violent jolt on the chocobo behind Ryn, at exactly the same moment that he had to steer the chocobo to one side to avoid crashing into a tree.

This time there was a thwack, like the sound of an arrow hitting a trunk.

“Damn it; missed,” said Vish. “Can’t you steer straight, boy?”

“I’m doing my best!” said Ryn. “The trees are dense here!”

A heartbeat.

Another jolt; another scream.

“You got another one!” Elrann called out to Vish.

“Yes, I can see that, girl,” said Vish. “That’s the nearest soldiers taken care of. They were guiding it. Now to take out the beast.”

Another jolt.

This time Ryn heard a vicious clang.

The beast roared, and there was rage in its roar.

“Godsdamnit,” said Vish, “missed again. Hit its armour. I’m out of ammunition. I only brought three stars with me on my hunt--I didn’t think I’d need any more. Do you have anything else for me to throw at it, boy?”

“What?!” exclaimed Ryn. What sort of question was that? “No! All I have are the clothes on my back! I don’t even have your sword any more!”

The bounty hunter sighed behind Ryn, audibly even over the noise of the chase. “Fine. I’d hoped it wouldn’t have to come to this.”

The chocobo lurched as Vish moved.

“What are you doing?” Ryn called back.

Another jolt, the most violent yet.

“Holy poodoo!” yelled Elrann.

“Raaaaaawwwwwwrrrrrrr!” called the beast, and then its roar cracked and became a whine, a horrible high-pitched squeal that didn’t sound like any dog that Ryn had ever heard.

“What happened?”

“He threw his sword at it!” said Elrann. “He hit it right between the eyes and it stuck in!”

“Yes, but it is still chasing us,” said Vish. “Persistent abomination.”

Unbelieving, Ryn risked another look back round over his shoulder. But then his neck spasmed with pain and he had to twist it back round again.

Just before he did, he got a glimpse of the scene behind: The beast was still pursuing them, but now the black hilt of Vish’s sword protruded from between its huge black dog-like eyes in the middle of its pug face.

“The poison will slow it down eventually, but that will take too long,” said Vish. “I’ll have to finish it off up close.”

Ryn’s chocobo wobbled as Vish shifted his weight again.

“What are you doing now?” said Ryn.

“Taking care of things,” said Vish

It hurt, but Ryn forced his neck to look round again.

Vish was standing up on the back of the chocobo as it galloped along, arms held out to either side for balance. He bent his legs.

“No!” yelled Ryn.

Vish jumped, and the chocobo shook from the force of his departure and cawed.

The bounty hunter soared through the air, somersaulted multiple times, and landed feet-first on top of the dog, which was still pursuing them.

Then Ryn had to twist his neck round again to see where he was steering.

“What’s going on, Ryn?” Nuthea called to him from in front.

“He just jumped onto that dog thing!” Elrann answered for him.

One more excruciating risked look round, and Ryn saw Vish climbing forwards on the beast’s back, reaching over to pull out his sword, then raising it high again.

Ryn flinched.

The beast howled.

When Ryn opened his eyes, the beast was losing its footing, stumbling forwards, purple blood spraying in a shower from its face. It went over onto its side, and skidded along the ground for a moment before colliding with a tree, making a tremendous crunch.

Vish, meanwhile, was in the air, descending rapidly back towards Ryn’schocobo.

“Look where you’re going, boy!” the bounty called out urgently.

He landed on the chocobo and its whole body shook.

Ryn turned his head just in time to see--

--a tree.

Whack!

He was thrown forwards off the chocobo’s back.

He went head over heels and smacked into something before falling to the ground in a jumble of limbs.

His head rang and pain blossomed in his back, but he knew he had to get up.

The chocobo was lying on the ground, panting, at the foot of the tree it had just crashed into.

Stupid bird. What sort of animal needs to be steered out of the way of trees, anyway? Though really it’s my fault for not looking where I was going…

“Ready yourself, boy,” said Vish.

Ryn looked round. The dog-beast-thing was still down, about twenty paces away, whining quietly in a purple-bloody heap, but six remaining black-armoured soldiers were slowly advancing towards them across the forest floor, each on the back of their own yellow-feathered chocobo.

“I don’t have anything to ready myself with…” said Ryn. Now that he had returned Vish’s sword to the bounty hunter he was weaponless. He tried to summon some fire to his palm, but none would come. It was no use. He was just too exhausteed. He didn’t have any energy for it left.

“Then stay close to me…” said Vish quietly. “Where are your friends?”

“They’ll come back for us once they realise we’re not with them any more,” said Ryn, hoping it was true. Mother. Father. Hometown. Nuthea?

The soldiers were close now, about ten paces away. Four against one, though Ryn. Can Vish take them? Surely. After all, he had just single-handedly taken down an enormous dog-monster. On the other hand, there had only been four of Ryn and his friends, and Vish hadn’t won against them.

“Shadowfinger!” called one of the helmeted soldiers from his mount. Ryn recognised the voice. It was the thin one from before. Wedge. “What are you doing running with these rebels? You know the price for desertion and treason against the Emperor!”

“They captured me while I was hunting them,” said Vish. “Now that you’re here, I can help you bring them in.”

What?

Vish stepped to the side of Ryn and slipped an arm around Ryn’s neck. With his hand he raised his black blade so that it was level with Ryn’s throat, ready to be drawn across it.

“What are you doing?!” Ryn yelled, despite the swordpoint glinting somewhere under his chin.

“Be quiet, or I’ll slit your throat here and now!” Vish barked. Then he dropped his voice and spoke so that only Ryn could hear. “Just play along, boy. Either my head’s gone soft, or I’ve taken a liking to you and your traveling party. I reckon I can get more poppy more quickly traveling with your old man than if I stick with the Empire. So play along.” He raised his voice and spoke to the soldiers again. “Have you got anything to tie him up with?”

“Of course,” said a soldier with a deeper voice, whom Ryn remembered as ‘Biggs’, as he drew up on his chocobo. “What of the others from his party?”

“You should send your men to keep chasing them. They are tired and depleted; they have no energy left for casting their magics. Also, they are inept at riding.” Does he mean that? “You will catch them too before long.”

“Good,” said the soldier Biggs. He motioned with his hand to two of the other mounted soldiers. “Vance, Gill, continue your pursuit. Remember: dead or alive are both fine. Go now.”

“Yes sir!” Two of the soldiers rode off on their chocobos.

That was clever. He got rid of two of them. Assuming he’s not actually betraying us...

“Have you got anything to tie this one up?” Vish asked Biggs.

“No,” said Biggs. He dismounted, and the other two remaining soldiers followed suit.

“A good beating should subdue him well enough,” said Wedge. “You hold him still while we have some fun. This is the one who tricked his way into the Healing House earlier today.”

“Alright then.” Vish shifted his posture so that he had both arms around Ryn and gripped tight. Then he whispered in Ryn’s ear: “I hope you know how to handle a sword, boy. I will lend you mine. I have other methods of fighting.”

“Hold him nice and still, Shadowfinger,” said Wedge as he approached them. He had thrown his gauntlets on the ground and was clicking his knuckles.

“As you wish,” said Vish.

Wedge stood before Ryn, pulling back his fist to prepare a punch.

Is he going to do something or not?

“Now!” Vish yelled.

He shoved Ryn forwards into Wedge.

Ryn crashed into the soldier and the two of them went down in a tangle. Ryn managed to roll off the soldier, readying himself for Wedge to recover and draw his weapon, but before the soldier could do so Vish was on him, thrusting his blade into the soft gap between Wedge’s helmet and the black carapace of his breastplate.

Wedge’s scream made Ryn’s guts tremble.

“Here, you take this.”

The Shadowfinger slid his blade out of Wedge’s neck and turned it round to hand it by the hilt to Ryn, who took it and stared. The black blade now wept deep red.

“Snap out of it, boy,” said Vish. “It’s time for you to fight.”

“Traitor!” The other soldiers were shouting. “Bastard! Dissenter!”

The Shadowfinger turned and then ducked out of the way of the blade of one of the soldiers. He took his legs out from underneath him with a vicious sweeping kick, quick as lightning, then picked up his blade when the soldier dropped it, and stabbed him too.

“Stupid rebel brat!” shouted another soldier as he rushed towards Ryn, while the others all went for Vish. The deeper voice. Biggs. “You got my comrade killed!”

Ryn brought his sword up to defend himself on relfex and the soldier’s blade clashed against it with a clang.

Both of their eyes widened with surprise. Ryn was as shocked as the soldier was that he had successfully defended himself. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip, putting one foot out behind him to steady himself.

The two of them stood like that for a moment, their swords grating against each other, locked in a contest of strength. Ryn gazed into the soldier’s visor while he pushed as hard as he could to stop Bigg’s blade coming down towards him, but all he could see in there was blackness.

All at once he felt a weight of loneliness, or worthlessness, of sadness, as if he was the only person in the entirety of the world and had been tried by the gods and found wanting. Why should he feel this now?

Mother. Father. Hometown. This is madness. I don’t know how to fight. I’m going to die.

He gave a fraction of ground to the soldier, and the two locked blades began to move towards him.

Ryn leapt backwards with both feet, landing a couple of paces away, and as he did so the tip of the soldier’s blade caught the very edge of his jerkin, shearing off the end of one of the thongs that tied it up.

Ryn looked down, opened his mouth, blinked and then dived to his left on instinct, hitting the ground and rolling to avoid another whistling arc from the soldier’s sword.

Blood rushed in his ears.

He staggered up, wrapped both his hands around his sword hilt, let out a shout and charged at the soldier. He rained down everything he had left on the soldier, more shouts and gasps escaping from his mouth with each blow. But it wasn’t enough. The soldier blocked them with ease, no strain or urgency in his movements at all. When the last of Ryn’s strength was spent, the soldier batted away his final blow with a lazy turn of his arm, drew his blade back, and…

...stabbed Ryn through the chest.

The shock of a sword blade sliding through his flesh.

Ryn blacked out.