Eschen sees this also. His expression hardens, and he calls the Duke back, interposing himself between him and the Enterlan group, yelling something in Ched. He draws his sword, walking briskly towards Solace.

I promised I promised I promised – Leah grips the reins hard, frozen on Beeswax’s back. I promised I wouldn’t fight, I promised, I promised –

The bard scrambles to her feet and starts reciting something in a lilting, acidic voice; the words seem to ooze power, but fall flat and without effect. She looks to the approaching Eschen, easily a foot taller than her and three times as broad, and spins around to run back to Leah. Eschen lets her go, and turns instead to the Baroness and Seffon, who is still staggered.

I was just wearing the ward; he cast it. He said the last time someone activated a battery near him it felt like something dropped on his head. And Solace was casting illusions and anti-scrys…she must be in agony. Leah’s heart is in her throat, and she dismounts.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, kid?” Solace hisses, grabbing at her as she approaches. “We gotta go. We gotta go!”

“I have to help,” Leah spits back, taking her spear and shield from their holsters on her saddle.

Adan has interposed herself between Eschen and the others; the captain seems to hesitate for a moment, eyeing the lieutenant, before jumping into action. In the time it takes for Leah to walk three paces, Eschen and Adan have traded four blows, sharp clangs echoing over the water.

“You’re out of your league, Leah,” Solace says, pulling her back. “Eschen’s been toying with you, in fights before this. Even without magic, he’ll beat you.”

Leah turns back to the fight; Eschen has switched places with Adan, both of them walking circles like boxers in a ring, a whirl of blades between them. The Duke has fled back to the ships, and the other Cheden soldiers are advancing. Seffon’s guards spread out to hold them back, mounted and pointing pikes down at the foot-soldiers. The crowd is roaring by now, fighting against the soldiers, some running away and some trying to rush to the fight. Hidden weapons have appeared in the hands of the disguised city guard, and they join the push against the Cheden soldiers.

Seffon seems to recover enough to move. He reaches forward for the Baroness’s arm and pulls her away, still with a hand on his head, eyes narrow slits against the pain. Eschen sees this, and breaks from Adan long enough to spare a swing at the fleeing duo.

A faint plume of red blood follows the tip of his sword as he completes his swing; Seffon continues running, but the Baroness falls.

The watching crowd erupts into screams; the Cheden soldiers at the edges turn their focus to holding back the tide. To her left, Leah can see the Baron pulling to get away from his guard, his face twisted with a scream that is buried under the general noise. The Baroness is gasping against the cobbles, blood pooling around her from a deep gash across her back. A few seconds pass and she stops breathing altogether.

Adan’s sword is still clanging against Eschen’s. She has a gash along one leg and is limping slightly as they continue to circle each other. The mounted Enterlan fighters are closing with the Devadiss and Cheden fighters.

“Leah, get out,” Solace says, dragging her back towards Beeswax. “I’m powerless here, I can’t help you if you get hit!”

Can Leah Talesh throw a dagger? I have no idea if she can throw a dagger. Leah’s fingers hover over the handle, when a blur of blue and white armour blocks her line of sight to Eschen.

Meredith, eyes streaming, swords drawn, starts unleashing against Eschen’s side, distracting him enough for Adan to stumble away and catch her breath. Eschen faces her, glowering. At first neither moves, then he steps back and backswings to her head. Meredith counters and steps forward to keep pace with him, leading with the longer left sword and blocking with the shorter right. She closes in, too close for his reach to matter, and blocks everything he throws at her with ease, her left-handedness throwing him off balance; his expression is not quite worried, but certainly not confident.

The Cheden soldiers are advancing, and other pockets of fighting have started elsewhere in the square. Already Leah can see numerous other fallen bodies, besides the Baroness’s.

Seffon has reached his horse, and swings up into the saddle in a fluid movement, face flushed, eyes wide. “The army is two minutes west of here,” Seffon says, turning his horse around. “For sanity’s sake don’t be here when they show up.” He bolts off through the streets to the west, two of his guards following him.

A shout from the docks; Meredith’s short sword has been knocked from her grasp and her right hand is dripping blood, but she continues with the longer blade, Adan at her side. Eschen keeps moving, trying not to be flanked by them or pressed towards the edge of the dock.

Leah turns to Solace. “Take Beeswax,” she says, shifting Solace over to the cream horse. At her vague protests, Leah grabs Solace’s waist and hoists her up and over the saddle like a sack of grain. “Get out of range of the battery. It’s a small one, it shouldn’t reach very far. As soon as you can cast again, contact the Algic ships. Use a beacon, use telepathy, quick-shift out to them, just do something to get the message to them that the city needs backup.”

“What if I don’t speak Algic?” Solace protests, shifting around to sit in the saddle.

“Solace, go!” Leah says, and when it looks like Solace is about to protest she slaps Beeswax on the rump. The horse gives an indignant jump and bolts into the crowd, before Solace gets her under control and turned around, running out of the city and along the river, scattering the mob of citizens and soldiers.

Leah spares another glance at the dock. Eschen seems slightly outmatched by the two fighters teaming up against him, and has started to fight dirty, desperate. Finally Meredith catches him off-guard and finishes a swing with her long sword pointed under his chin, nicking flesh. Eschen does not drop his sword yet, even after Adan adds her blade against his neck. Singling her out among the crowd between them, he stares Leah down, seemingly challenging her to come add her blade. Leah feels the blood-boiling urge to join Adan and Meredith, to get her revenge. She smothers it only with difficulty.

Tearing her eyes away, Leah rushes over to the last place she saw the Baron. His guard is still there, holding him back as he tries to pull free and go to the open patch of stone where the Lady Valerid still lies.

“Sir!” Leah yells as she gets close, grabbing his shoulders and helping the guard hold him back. “Lord Valerid, you need to leave!”

His voice is hoarse, and he barely whispers as he struggles to break their grasps, eyes fixed on the collapsed body in the trampled pool of blood. Leah leans in to hear. “Get her,” he breathes, eyes red and wild. “Don’t let them keep her, bring her back, bring her back, get her – ”

Leah looks over at the guard. “Get him to Wellen’s; the hedge-wizard’s house. Knock him out if you have to.”

The guard nods, eyes staring without quite seeing. The Baron is still whispering.

Leah grabs his face and turns him away from the sight of the body. “Sir,” she says, looking into his eyes. “I’ll get her. I’ll bring her.”

“Bring her,” he repeats, nodding. “Get her to safety.”

“I will.” Leah stands straight and pushes them to the south; looking back at the docks, she sees Meredith watching her with wet cheeks. The newly made captain nods to her, and Leah nods back. The guard leads the Baron away, wending through the crowd unseen, all the faces of the mob fixed on the battle and on Eschen, still not yet surrendered but also not fighting.

Leah pushes through until she reaches the Baroness’s body. Mostly it is being avoided, but red splatters of footprints still trail through the puddle around her. Crouching down, Leah rolls her over and picks her up, hoisting her in a fireman-carry. She looks around for an unattended horse, and finds one that belonged to a Seffonshold guard, its rider since slain.

She slumps the body over the front of the saddle, then settles in herself, turning the horse away from the growing conflict. A few people try to grab or swing at her, but she kicks them out of the way, aiming south and kicking the horse into a run, down cobbled roads and muddy side-streets, looking for the familiar cottage.

She finds it ransacked and uninhabited. Swallowing fear at what may have happened to its occupant, she pulls down the Baroness’s body and carries it inside, laying it out on its side on the wooden table and cutting off the outer layers of clothing. The interior of the building is not quite as ruined as the exterior is, and most of the ingredients are still in the shelves and drawers that Leah remembers watching Wellen rummage through so very many times before.

Splinters. Sinew. Water. She knows she’s not thinking straight, but she likewise knows she has to try.

The guard and the Baron stumble through the doors as she is assembling the ingredients. “Matches,” she says imperiously, holding her hand out.

“What?” the guard blurts, looking around the room with wide eyes.

“Matches. Flint. Anything.” Leah begins driving the splinters into the now-familiar pattern. Sewheil is born-magic. I don’t know how she does the final part, but if what I’ve been reading about runes is right…and from that thing in Solace’s priestess book thingy…

The guard pats his pockets and comes up empty. Lord Valerid kneels at the head of the table, holding the Baroness’s head in his hands, very gently, brushing the hair out of her face and whispering to her. Leah tunes it out, focusing on the spell.

She wraps the sinew around the splinters, then dips a finger into the congealing blood to draw two runes on either side of the wound; one for desiccation, and one for sun.

Works better with something that actually burns, Teo’s voice rings in her ears. Leah clears her throat and focuses on the sinew. “Do hai iebar, Do aieha, lo maitassi, lotai eha.”

Flame springs up vigorously on all the sinew and splinters at once. The skin below glows faintly red, not from the reflected light but from within. Leah moves to the Baroness’s front and traces the two curves and a line of the Noi rune, whispering its name as she does so. She takes a pitcher of water, and pours it over the sinew spell.

Lady Valerid’s body convulses. The guard gives a horrified yell and stumbles back against the wall, and the Baron falls silent, still holding her head.

“Lilia?” he gasps out, stroking the Baroness’s forehead. “Lilia?”

The Baroness’s eyes flicker, and blood starts to pour from the wound again. Leah rushes over to brush away the ash and water, looking for a needle or bandages or anything to close or cover the wound.

“Lilia?” The Baron’s voice has a panicked tinge. Lady Valerid breathes in once, then not again.

There isn’t enough light in here…the sun’s setting too fast, I can’t see a damn thing. Where did Wellen keep medical supplies? Did I ever even know where? Were they part of what was ransacked? Does he have anything useful? Would I know how to use it if he did? What can I do, what can I do, what can I do –

“Leah.”

Leah jumps and whips around to the door, reaching for the dagger. Solace stands at the threshold, eyes sad, hands clasped before her.

“Solace!” Leah smiles. “I know it’s not your specialty, but do you know any healing magic? Anything at all, anything, she’s not holding on – ”

“Leah.”

Leah pinches the edges of the wound together – deep red muscles oozing blood, flecked with the shattered white shards of what might once have been a vertebra but Leah would rather not think too hard on that – and stares at Solace.

The bard nods down at the Baroness. “Let her go.”

“Help me,” Leah says angrily, hands sliding over the skin, not quite keeping her grip. “Can you heal anything? I’m trying anything, please.” It ends as a hoarse whisper, petering out to silence.

The sunlight barely hits the room anymore. Solace steps in and rests a hand over Leah’s. “Closure is a form of healing, too.”

The blood stops pouring, and the Baroness’s eyes turn glassy. Lord Valerid’s breathing cuts out, his mouth open, hands trembling over the still face.

The cottage is silent for a moment, and then a rush of golden light rises from the body on the table. Leah and the guard both fall back, but Solace remains beside it, a hand reaching out to hold a tendril of the light.

The glow coalesces, and takes human form, spectral and beautiful, kneeling on the table over the body. Lady Valerid’s face looks around in confusion, blank eyes blinking, hair writhing as though underwater.

“Malan?” Her voice echoes, huge in the small room.

Lord Valerid stands and reaches out a hand for hers. “Lilia, I’m – ”

“Malan, dearest.” The ghostly figure’s hand passes through his. “I am called. I must go.”

The Baron holds the air around her hand, not quite touching it, and reaches his other hand to trace across the rippling surface of her face; his fingertips pass through the skin with no impact. “Go in peace, and find your rest,” he says, voice cracking. The guard joins in, belatedly. “Go in peace, and feel no want. I will meet you there in time.”

The gold figure begins to dissolve, and the Baron’s hands clutch at it, like trying to grab a shadow on the wall. The light disperses, and fades, and the workshop is left dark and empty. The sounds of a not far distant battle, pitched and brutal, reach them through the open door. Within, there is the faint sound of Lord Valerid’s choked breathing, blood dripping to the wood floor, and nothing more.