The caravan was destroyed.

Of the thirteen wagons that formed the train, three remained. Lasfelro’s, the wagon behind his, and one of Larion’s; just one other stood in the road, but the damage sustained to its frame and wheels meant that it would collapse the moment it moved.

The rest of the wagons lay in various stages of destruction; some were flipped onto their sides, horses still attached, making it impossible to right them. Others had their frames smashed in specific places, ensuring that they would fall apart the moment they moved. Others still were completely destroyed, shattered upon impact, contents and drivers flung away.

Many of the caravan members met their fate in a similar way. Among the ruined wagons lay the mangled and twisted bodies of owners and teamsters alike. Even from where the giant had fallen at the back of the caravan, bodies littered the road, no one like the other. The lucky ones had been killed instantly, either flung into the air or trampled to death. Drag marks lay etched into the ground around the unlucky ones, where they pulled themselves along, wounds not yet fatal, before they died in agony. Orcs and birds mixed with them, each body in twisted positions, crimson wounds open to the sky; they had suffered the same amount of death as the caravan had.

Blood soaked into the road, covering whole swathes, filling the air with the stench of iron. Barely any of the road remained visible, so completely did the pools of crimson coat it. Mixed among the sickening scent of blood came the whiff of clogged sewers, the smell of feces taking Werond by surprise.

She didn’t know what death would smell like, having never been exposed to carnage on such a scale. Covering her nose, she prayed the stench would pass.

The explosions she’d heard earlier, Werond realized, was the smashing of Larion’s wagons; two had been destroyed in a similar fashion as theirs had, the contents of each blasting across the Trade Way. In some spots, the piles of gold reflected the light of day so brightly that it blinded Werond, sunspots forming in her vision. In other places, ornate chairs lay ripped apart, weapons were scattered like discarded children toys, and rugs were unfurled everywhere, some had even landed in the trees that the orcs had come out of.

All of it laid bare to the open sky, all of it stained by the blood that pooled here and there, and from the franticness of Larion, crouched among the wealth, all of it was to be retrieved.

Serena had to pull Werond along; Jemna and Lasfelro were already at the middle of the caravan, with the rest of the survivors. Jo had waited for them on the other side of the giant’s body.

“You two going to be okay?” Jo asked, a touch of concern in her voice.

“No.” Serena signed. “But we don’t have time for a breakdown right now.”

“Are you sure?” Werond asked, voice unsteady.

Jo laughed and continued down the road. Serena stepped in front of Werond.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Her eyes were wide. “You can wait off the side of the embankment if you –”

“No, I’m fine, I just…need to get used to it.” Werond said. “But…are you going to be okay?”

Serena sighed. “I told you, I feel like I should feel something, but I don’t. Maybe later…let’s just go.”

She stepped back and locked arms with her, pulling Werond towards the rest of the carnage.

In the middle of the road stood Larion’s last wagon, and everyone who survived the skirmish seemed clustered around it. Towards the back of the wagon, closer to them, Pavel, his armor broken and coated in blood, had been grabbing the bodies of caravan members, and moving them off the road and down the embankment; there, he laid them side by side, folding hands over chests if they still had them. His stony face gave away no trace of thought. The thin guard from the night before, whose name Werond could not remember, assisted Pavel, sorting and cleaning the bodies up as best she could. From the limp and angry cuts that traced her body, she had seemed to face the worst of the fighting.

From the count of the armored bodies that littered the road, they were the only guards left.

Jemna and Lasfelro stood away from the wagon, silent, and eyed the absurd amount of coin that lay on the ground. Cruck’aa, who stood on the opposite side of the road, could not hide his own shock, as he examined different piles of objects, glancing over chairs and weapons alike. Occasionally, he mumbled to himself, his eyes remaining wide.

Sticking out, Larion hunched over the middle of the road, scooping as much coin and gems as he could into his arms; sweat beaded down his face as he piled the wealth into his ripped tunic, and frantically carried it to the front of his wagon, dumping it near the wheels. A crazed look filled his eyes, and he ignored all else as he strove to recover the spilled wealth.

With the sheer number of valuables spilled, it would take the better part of a year.

Azbara, looking as though nothing noteworthy had occurred, stood in front of the wagon, speaking gently to the still panicking horses attached to the front. The only indication that he’d even participated in the fight, came from the specks of blood that dotted his face. Werond wondered how much more was hidden by the color of his robes.

He side-eyed them as Serena, Werond, and Jo stopped alongside Jemna and Lasfelro, but said nothing.

Serena released Werond’s arm and walked over to Pavel. Werond inched over to Lasfelro, who gave her a knowing nod.

“Pavel?” Serena signed as she approached at the edge of the embankment.

The guard stopped, and turned towards Serena, a deep weariness in her eyes. Pavel, however, dropped the next body off, and began to walk back up.

“Pavel?” Serena signed again, concern creeping into her voice.

He reached the top, and brushed past her, moving to the next body.

Werond’s chest tightened. His eyes held that same look she’d seen after Vanet’s death.

He paused at side of a body, that of a guard ripped in half, gore splattered against the road like paint flung at a canvas. His shoulders slumped as he contemplated how to move it.

Serena jogged over and stood in front of him.

“Pavel!” She yelled.

The captain of the guard blinked and looked up, as though it was the first time Serena had called to him.

“Are…are you okay?” She asked; the tips of her ears began to turn red. “I, I know, stupid, but…you didn’t say anything.” Serena glanced down and grimaced. “Do you need help burying them?”

Pavel stared back down at the body. He slowly looked up, and turned towards Werond and the others, standing off to the side.

He looked back towards Serena.

“I think…” Pavel said slowly. “there’s too many. Probably…need to burn them or…something.”

Serena nodded.

“I can do that. Not too tired yet, but we’d have to…bunch everyone up.” She looked at Werond and the others. “Can you all help out?”

Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

Werond nodded, and began to step forward, when Lasfelro reached out and grabbed her arm. Not unkindly, he pulled her back behind himself and shook his head.

Werond’s stomach turned.

“Well, I would! I really would.” Jemna said, taking a step forward, gesturing with her bow. “Gotta wonder why Larion and Baldy over here ain’t helping ya though.”

Larion shot off the ground, coins and gems flying from his shirt.

“Are you kidding me?!” He screamed, eyes frantic, veins bulging. “We need to gather all this back up! They’re going to come back and take it and I need it now! Fuck, help me with this!”

Larion bent back down and moved to scoop more coins up; his foot slipped in a puddle of blood and mud, and he came crashing down. He pushed himself back up, tears now rolling down his face, as he struggled to gather the spilled wealth.

Some part of Werond pitied him; regardless of what the wealth meant to him, transporting it remained his only job. She couldn’t imagine looking at such an impossible task and trying to find a solution.

She felt for him, but not enough to move to help Larion. The sentiment seemed to be felt from everyone else.

Azbara stepped forward, horses finally calmed. He eyed his companion, still on the ground.

“While I don’t share the same…feelings Mr. Keenblade has towards all this, I do confess that I agree with him. Captain, if we could halt the burial process, that would be –”

Pavel whirled around, causing Serena to jump.

“How dare you ask that!” Pavel screamed, veins bugling in his neck. “How many of my men died so you could stand there and fucking ask me that?! How many people like your boss died so that he can sob on the ground over money?! Don’t you fucking ask anything of me again, not after that!”

Larion flinched and fell back into the mud and coin. Azbara gave no reaction.

“Pavel.” Serena signed to his back.

“Nah, nah,” Jemna said, stepping forward; beside her, Jo tightened her grip on her bow. “ole Pavel here got a right to be mad. Figures a Dragon Cultist would be more concerned with all that coin anyhow.”

Everyone stiffened, save Azbara.

He smiled.

Werond’s heart slammed into her chest.

“And how long have you known?” He asked. “Since Daggerford?”

Larion shot up, more coins flying, and ran towards Pavel; his eyes never left Azbara as Larion grabbed at Pavel’s tunic.

“He’s the cultist, not me!” Larion whined, tugging at Pavel like a child. “I got roped into this, they tricked me, none of this is even my money! You’ve got to believe me, I’m not with him, I swear!”

Pavel shoved Larion back onto the road, who cowered at his feet; he took a step towards Azbara, drawing his sword, as Larion scampered around Serena and down the embankment.

As he did, Lasfelro stepped backwards, laid his hand on Werond’s shoulder, and continued to back up, pulling her with him.

Serena inched around Pavel towards the middle of the road, as Jo walked towards the other side, arrow in hand. Cruck’aa, eyeing her, moved up, until he stood on the other side of Azbara, some feet away from him, further down the road.

The robed man was surrounded.

“Ah,” he said. “so, you all knew? Hmm. Looks as though we weren’t as hidden as we thought.”

“Knew from the minute you joined; you were bad news.” Cruck’aa spat.

“What? Was it the robes? Standard everyday garb where I come from.”

“Never was able to trust a bald man.” Jo said.

Azbara smiled. “Well, haven’t heard that one before.”

“Azbara,” Pavel interrupted. “I will say this once, stand down. We can settle this peacefully, no need for more fighting.”

“Oh captain,” Azbara replied, still smiling. “I do believe we’re past that point.”

Pavel stepped forward.

Azbara flung a hand from his robes.

Three brilliant orbs of fire streaked out.

One smashed into Pavel; he staggered back, as the bolt exploded against his chest piece.

One flew over Jo’s head as she flattened herself on the ground.

One streaked down the middle, aimed directly towards Werond and Lasfelro.

Serena stepped towards it.

It exploded against her chest and threw her to the ground.

Werond screamed. Lasfelro seized and yanked her back.

Twin arrows flew and pierced Azbara’s chest and leg. He grunted.

Cruck’aa raised his hands, mumbling, as clouds began to swirl above them.

Azbara’s eyes flicked upwards.

CRACK

Werond flinched, as Lasfelro covered his ears.

The clouds dissipated as soon as they came. Cruck’aa swore, staring in shock.

Recovered, Pavel launched himself at Azbara, screaming, sword raised.

Azbara vanished in a silver mist.

Pavel flipped around, eyes frantic; Jo and Jemna notched arrows; Cruck’aa moved towards them; Serena struggled to push herself up.

Another puff of mist.

Azbara slammed a boot into Serena’s chest, forcing her back down, and the air out of her lungs.

Werond struggled against Lasfelro’s grip, screaming to be released. The silent man shook his head, a look of worry etched across his face.

Azbara pointed a palm towards Serena, smile still on his lips.

“Now, now!” He said, raising a finger as Jemna and Jo took aim. “Any moves and she’s gone. Wouldn’t want that, right?”

They froze.

Heart in her throat, Werond watched in horror as Jemna and Jo lowered their bows, scowling.

Pavel and Cruck’aa stepped forward. Fire lit in Azbara’s hand.

“Gentlemen, not a step further.” The robed man said in a honied voice; Pavel and Cruck’aa halted. “Now, unless you wish your friend to end up like everyone else today,” Werond felt her knees give way. “drop your weapons and walk down the embankment. I’ll be leaving now. Won’t touch a hair on her head if you do so.”

Cruck’aa stared with unrestrained fury.

“What, so you can murder her anyways?!” He spat.

Azbara shook his head.

“No, no, my fine feathered friend. I’m a man of my word. Move aside, and –”

Serena jerked.

Azbara looked down at her. Cruck’aa and Jo stiffened. Pavel yelled.

With a flick, Serena had flung a bead of orange at Azbara’s face.

He frowned.

CRACK

Werond covered her ears.

The bead disappeared halfway, snuffed out like a candle.

Serena gritted her teeth. Her fingers twitched.

CRACK

The bead reappeared and continued its path.

Azbara swore.

It blossomed into a fireball, engulfing him in angry orange flames; it curved around Serena just enough not to burn her, igniting an outline of her body in the road.

Yells of panic filled the air. Pavel rush towards them.

The flames dissipated; Azbara stumbled back out of them, covered in raging flames; he was silent, and made no move to put them out.

Twin arrows thudded into his neck and chest, causing him to jerk.

Pavel reached him.

He drove his sword through Azbara’s back and out his burning chest, burying it up to the hilt, and jumped back.

The red robed man, still engulfed, staggered forwards.

Two more arrows sprouted from his head.

He stumbled back, slipped, and fell to the ground, blade shoved through his chest.

He lay still.

Silence filled the air, save for the sound of his burning flesh. A collective breath was released, as everyone visibly relaxed.

Serena jerked with a silent cough.

Werond ripped herself from Lasfelro and sprinted towards her, just as Pavel skirted around Azbara’s burning body, and fell onto his knees next to Serena. Werond slid to a halt above her head, just as everyone else converged.

Her tunic was burned, her chest was bruised, and half of an eyebrow was singed. But she was breathing, a pained smile on her face.

“I uh –” she signed.

“Serena!” Pavel screamed, checking over her. “What the hell?!”

“What did you do?!” Werond echoed him, grabbing Serena’s head in both hands.

“Uhm…threw a fireball, made it…not hit me.” She grimaced as Pavel pushed on a spot on her chest. “Mostly not hit me.” Her signs came out slow, and she grimaced as though it took the last of her strength to speak.

“Why did you jump into the firebolt earlier?!” Cruck’aa demanded, leaning in. “You’re not wearing any armor or anything! You could have burned to death!”

“Thought…it was going for Werond.”

Serena leaned her head back and gave a small smile towards Werond. Cruck’aa straightened up and let loose a slew of words that probably were curse words, had Werond understood them.

Heat rose in Werond’s face.

“That’s not okay!” she yelled, as tears began to roll down. “That was so incredibly stupid! I appreciate it but you could have died!”

“So could you.”

Werond blinked.

“Ah! If she’s talking, she’s fine!” Jemna yelled; she pointed towards the burn mark across her chest. “It’ll give her a wicked scar now too! Unless she heals it. Which she shouldn’t!”

Lasfelro leaned over Werond, glancing down.

“As scars always tell the greatest stories.” He said, in a rich voice. “But of course, now you know, you’ll never do that again. Right?”

Serena’s smiled wider.

“I can’t promise that.” She signed. “Not if it’s going to hurt one of you guys.”

“Serena,” Jo said. “seriously, you can’t be doing that. We’re not in some cheesy story, theatrics like that will get you killed.”

“Okay!” Pavel yelled, pushing himself up. “We can save the lecture for later. You’re going to be okay, right?” Serena nodded. “Good. Now, we’ve got things to do. Mainly, getting the wagons ready, and figuring out what to do with…all this.” Pavel gestured broadly. “Jo, go get the wagons together, we can shove Serena into one until she’s rested up. Jemna, Lasfelro, and Cruck’aa, work together to figure out what we’re going to do with the damned money. Hell if I’m leaving most of it.” He eyed the embankment. “Now, I need to have a conversation with the coward down there.”

Serena didn’t get up as the group began to disperse. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“You going to be okay?” Werond asked, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

“Yup.” Serena signed. “Just…need a minute.”

“Okay.” Werond said.

They remained there, in the road, covered in dirt and mud. Werond had yet to release Serena’s head. Larion’s screams of terror began to echo from down the embankment; Cruck’aa, Jemna, and Lasfelro, from further away, suddenly took up a heated argument about the best way to go about collecting all the spilled coin. Werond hadn’t a clue where Jo went.

“Serena.” Werond said quietly.

Serena opened her eyes; they’d changed color again, now a pale blue.

“Please never give me a heart attack like that again.” Werond said; she leaned down and kissed the top of Serena’s head. “But thank you.”

Serena snapped her eyes shut, as a blush began to creep across her face and ears.

Despite everything that had happened that day, Werond couldn’t help but grin.