Niall stared at Killip until, eventually, the other man turned and walked away. Niall stared at his retreating back, then pushed himself back to his feet with the butt of his spear and walked over to where the rest of the Militia were clustering around Corporal Tate as the order to regroup on her came. It took a while but the Militia that remained eventually all gathered. She looked across them and started to speak.

“In case anyone missed it: we won. It doesn’t mean the work is over though. We lost a number of officers in the battle, the Lieutenant has been given a field promotion to Captain so I am the acting commanding officer for the 3rd Militia Regiment. First order, check the area for our wounded. Do what you can to stabilise them, then get them to the Healing stations in the rear. Any Bulvine wounded we strip of armour and weapons and take them to the west ridge to be processed.”

She paused for a moment. “That doesn’t mean you need to put your lives at risk. Should any of them look to still want to fight, you kill them.

“Patrol Leaders Velaz and Transven you have temporary promotion into acting corporals. Organise everyone into new patrols, then head out in coverage pattern five to make sure tat we don’t miss anyone. Meet back here when your sweep is complete.”

The organisation into new patrols took little time and Niall’s new patrol moved out. His initial concern they would have to continue to fight did not come to pass as none of the Bulvine wounded showed any inclination to extend the war.

The first ones Niall and his new patrol came across had already tossed their weapons away and knelt with their massive hands clasped behind their heads. They did not resist as they were chained and marched over to the rest of the prisoners.

That set the tone for the rest with all the Bulvine the encountered surrendering without a fight as their great shaggy heads bowed in defeat and weariness. Occasionally Niall would look up to see one of them giving him a piercing look, but none of them made a move to try to attack him. It made him think of the encounter with Leon but he did not have the energy to try to work out what that meant at this stage. All of the energy he could muster was taken with Healing those that needed it

Niall and the rest of his patrol were going through the heartbreaking process of checking yet another a pile of motionless bodies when he looked up to see Killip approaching with a grim looking man in a mottled grey and green cloak walking next to him. The ominous feeling that had accompanied him since the end of the battle deepened.

“Patrol Leader Vendra, to me.”

“What is it Patrol Leader Transven?”

“It’s Corporal Transven, and this is the army, you do what a senior officer tell you to do.” Killip looked around him as the rest of Niall’s patrol stared him. “Fine. Champion Gryll has been flying over the battlefield and has reported there are injured cavalry inside the Bulvine camp. I have been ordered to find a Healer for them. You, even with your limited skills, are the only Healer we have here. And, while you’ve been questioning orders, the chances are that some of those Gwillish soldiers may have died.”

Niall looked at his Patrol. “Huff, you’re in charge while I’m gone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Killip interrupted. “Stop making decisions you have not authority to make, Vendra. I have no idea how you were ever appointed Patrol Leader. No, Militia Huffport will not be in charge. I will take charge of this Patrol while you’re away. Ranger Mincris will show you where to go. Now run along, you’ll need to hurry if you’re going to catch him up.”

When Niall looked back round, the Ranger had already started to walk towards the gaping hole in the wall of the Bulvine camp. Niall indulged himself in an eye roll before jogging over to catch him up.

The two did not speak as they entered the camp. There were already Gwillish soldiers working through the camp checking for prisoners and the wounded. The scale of the camp unsettled Niall. Everything was just a little larger than he was used to and that made the experience oppressive.

After a few minutes of walking the number of Gwillish soldiers decreased substantially, and then it was just the two of them walking through the abandoned camp.

“Are you sure we should be this deep without backup, Sir?” Niall said.

“Yes.” Ranger Mincris was clearly a man of few words so Niall decided to leave it.

The Ranger took a left turn off the main path through the camp and the two of them soon found themselves weaving their way around abandoned tents and camping areas. After a couple more minutes the path opened out onto an open space where it was clear that there had been an intense clash between the Bulvine and Gwilliant troops. Bodies in the colours of both sides were scattered across the field. Even at a glance, Niall could see that some of the bodies were still breathing. Champions Gryll’s flyby assessment that there were injured soldiers was correct.

“Right, Patrol Leader,” the Ranger said looking around as he spoke. “Get to work. Your backup will be here soon.”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“I have better things to do than to baby sit you.”

“But there are wounded Bulvine here as well.”

“I can’t believe I’m having to explain this to you, Patrol Leader, but you need to make sure you Heal the soldiers in Gwilliant colours, not the Bulvine. If it helps, just avoid healing anything that looks like it might make milk. Is that so hard to understand? Now get on with it.”

With that, the Ranger turned and walked away.

Niall felt deeply uncomfortable being left by himself as the Ranger disappeared into the Bulvine tents. However, a groan from a body next to him brought him back to himself. Regardless of Ranger’s high-handed approach, there were people here that needed healing.

He put his spear and shield on the ground and knelt next to the nearest body. It was a wounded dwarf that was breathing shallowly and unevenly. Niall focussed and started to push his Healing Spirit into them.

He was deep into the healing process when there was a scream from Pobble in his head.

“Drop to the ground. Now!”

Without thinking, Niall did as Pobble ordered. As he did so he felt something swish through the air above him. He rolled to one side and scrambled to his feet. Looking at him with crazed eyes was Stefan holding a longsword and a buckler.

Stefan was not wearing a helm and his armour was stained with blood. There was a deep gash to his midriff but it did not appear to be bothering him.

Niall drew his sword and then glanced at his spear and shield. He would have to try to get to them without exposing himself to Stefan.

“Good reflexes, blacksmith. I think you’ve learnt a few tricks since we danced last. It won’t be enough though. Not here. No one to save you and nowhere to run. Just you and me.”

“What you do you want, Stefan?” Niall wanted to get Stefan talking. If he could distract him long enough then maybe Killip or the Ranger would return with help.

“You know what I want. I want you dead. Leon told me he had given you a way out and you and refused. No more chances for baby blacksmith. I finish you and he will make everything right again.”

“Leon’s lying to you Stefan. He can’t do anything for you.” Niall circled as he talked and Stefan followed him.

“Oh really? But he’s already done it. He gave me this sword as proof of his goodwill. It’s better than the rubbish that Devon makes. He’s shown me the gold he’ll give me once it’s done. It will buy me out of my army contract and pay for me to train as a Blacksmith with any of the Master’s in Hallen. There’ll even be enough to set me up with my own smithy anywhere I choose. I’m going to go back to Raintor as a success and my father is going to be proud of me. Everything is going to be fine.”

As Stefan spoke, Niall had continued to circle round until he was almost on top of his spear and shield. He feinted and then leaned down to scoop up his spear. Stefan watched him with a small smile on his face but did not move. Niall grabbed the handle of the spear but still Stefan did not move, instead his eyes flickered to something just over Niall’s shoulder.

While part of him screamed that this may just be a trick, Niall was already in motion as his instincts and reactions took over. He rolled to the left and was glad that his subconscious had taken charge. The chains of a spiked flail skimmed over his head and turned to see a Bulvine soldier behind him.

He scrambled backwards until he could see both Stefan and the Bulvine.

“Oh, you’re a tricksy one aren’t you Mr Blacksmith? Did you think it would just be me that was sent to get you? No, we’re not leaving this to chance. This fine Bulvine warrior is here to help. They know they have no chance of getting back alive, so they’re motivated to make this count. Gentlemen, over to you.”

The Bulvine had not paid any attention to Stefan, but, instead, was walking towards Niall. Niall did not wait to conceded the ground. He forced himself to battle readiness and dropped back into the state of battle Flow he had been in for so much of the day. The Bulvine warrior looked more competent than many that Niall had fought that day, but Niall had no fear of losing.

The metal chains of the flail whistled through the air toward him and Niall put his spear in the way. Heavy chains entangled themselves around the shaft splintering the wood as they did so. Niall tossed the useless spear away but it had done its job of distracting and disarming the Bulvine. He drew his short sword and plunged it into the narrow gap between the Bulvine’s helmet and chest plate.

The Bulvine fell and Niall stumbled as his grip on the sword pulled him forward. It was this that saved his life. As a blow slammed into his body and sent him flying across the space before he painfully crashed into the ground. It was only a glancing blow but the power behind it mean he could immediately tell he had broken his ribs. He tried to take a breath but almost nothing came in. The ribs had punctured a lung.

He looked up to see a Bulvine larger and more powerfully muscled than any of those he had fought so far carrying a mace with a head larger than Niall’s head.

“Oh, sorry,” Stefan called over. “Did I forget to mention he had a friend? Must have slipped my mind. Let’s see how you do against him.”

Niall pulled Spirit into him as fast as he could manage however, after healing for so long, his reserves were low. Scrambling to try to buy some time he pulled his broken body away his sword still in his hand. The Bulvine hefted his mace and walked after him, he did not rush, and there was an inexorably inevitability about him. This air of confidence and competence around him was nothing like the other fighters Niall had encountered.

Niall wheezed as he moved. Everything he had learned through practising his Flow was used to the fullest extent to keep him alive. He could feel his Spirit refilling but it still was not enough to be able to carry out the level of Healing his body required.

He continued to stagger away and headed towards one of the large tents that lined the square. Without knowing what he hoped to find he flung open the flap and fell in. Somehow, he was still clutching his sword and he used it to slash open the back of the tent and stumbled out.

His Spirit was not yet enough to heal himself but he used what he had to enable Soft Step and forced his body into another tent. Inside the tent there was a study cot and Niall scrambled underneath it. With that meagre element of concealment, he stopped and tried to calm his broken panting to silence. Outside he could hear the tear of fabric as the Bulvine forced the rip in the back of the first tent wider and pushed his way out.

Then his Testimony was thrown up in front of his face. “Niall must check his Testimony.”

“What?” Niall swiped his Testimony away and it immediately came back.

“Now,” said Pobble. “Look at the changes.”

With an ear out for the Bulvine soldier, Niall gave in and did what he was told. His Battle Militia call had been replaced.

Class evolution: Battle Militia to Elite Militia Warrior

Skill evolution: Spear to Spear Master

Skill evolution: Short Sword to Short Sword Master

New Skill: Final Strike. Hounded by enemies on all sides there is a moment when all is lost unless a hero can perform a miracle. You are that hero. This is the miracle.

Elite Militia Warrior 1: Moulded by training and forged in battle, you are the paragon of what a militia fighter can be. +10 Strength, +5 Endurance, +5 Agility, + 5 Perception

- Battle Militia 10

- Spear Master 4

- Short Sword Master 2

- Final Strike 1

“I’ve evolved again? What’s Final Strike? That description tells me nothing.”

“It is what may give Niall a chance. Niall must push untuned Spirit into his weapon before he strikes. It is the only thing that will keep him alive.”

Then there was silence. Niall realised he had regained enough Spirit to Heal himself and poured it towards his ribs and lungs. He almost groaned with relief as the pain subsided, but he had no time to appreciate it was he heard the rushing of wind outside. Before he could work out what was going on he realised the edges of the tent he was in were flapping and then the whole thing ripped out of the ground and flew into the air.

The cot Niall was hiding under also flew into the air and it was all he could do to dig his sword into the ground and hold on to avoid being whisked upwards himself. He squinted up to see the Bulvine spinning in the air. It was the same move the other Bulvine had used against Devon and Gwen when he had first appeared.

The realisation his opponent was not an ordinary Bulvine fighter sent a chill down his spine. Niall was facing another Bloodaxe assassin, and the last one had required the combined skills of both Devon and Gwen to defeat it.