"I could do that," I say. "But I won't."

  "Why?" Mandollel asks. "It would make sense."

  "We're a team for a reason. If the Kertharians would find Finna before the stake is done, is she supposed to fight them alone? What she's going to do to a mage flying above her?" A cold feeling is creeping down my spine. I know they are going to talk me into it, if I let them. It would be so easy, just to wait somewhere with the device, hidden and safe. Watch the auroras blaze and flip some switch, saunter back into Velonea. It would be just 30 years, and I could go meet them. "I won't let you talk me into it. I know it sounds like the right option, but if and when something goes wrong, I don't want anyone to be facing it alone.

  "He faced a lot of stuff alone already," Finna says, pointing his thumb at Mandollel. He tries to say something, but Finna continues. "But you weren't sent here alone. I'm with Folke on this one. This is too much like a suicide mission without you trying to make it into one."

  "Suicide is not the point. Doing what we came to do is," Rworg says. He holds a chunk of meat between his fingers and blows on it. Wisps of steam fly away, and he places the meat in his mouth, chewing carefully with his mouth held wide around it.

  I wish I could be as casual or composed. Whichever it is. Finna throws glances at the meat before me, and I push the rock I'm using as a plate toward her. I ate enough to feel full, and the flaky structure is not my favorite. She's probably ravenous after heating the pot that hot. "I still think we have a better chance of both succeeding and getting out if we work together. I don't even like splitting the team into two, but we'd meet up soon enough."

  Mandollel starts to braid his hair, pulling the braids open as they are done. "It feels easy to say we should do this or do that. The reality is that we can't be certain what the right choice is. Every step of this plan needs to work. If even one of the stakes is disturbed before it finishes priming, it won't matter what happens with the device. Handling two stakes at the same time feels like a reasonable compromise between doing it all one step at a time and trying to do everything at once."

  "I hear you convincing yourself, elf," Rworg says. "Yet, I do not claim to know better, myself. The Janitor included Folke for a reason, and we have been served well following his counsel so far."

  Finna rolls her eyes and blows a raspberry, showering the air with flakes of snake meat. "Lictor probably included him just to mess with us. His plans are disgusting and awful."

  "Yes, absolutely. But they have worked most of the time," Mandollel says, tucking a braid behind his ear. "We're approaching the end of our mission. Whatever happens, we can be proud of ourselves. We have bested many an ob--"

  A piece of hard tack slaps him on the forehead and drops off. Mandollel catches it on the way down in his fist and gives Finna a look.

  She has both hands full of meat, stopped on the way to stuffing more of it into her mouth. Her eyes are equally wide in surprise as his.

  "I heard you practice that speech too many times before we left, elf," Rworg says. "We know what is at stake. We are comrades, and we will finish what we started. No speeches are necessary. Anyone doing willingly what my people are doing would deserve death, and yet we must give them this chance to be saved. Veloneans will remember their atrocities, but with the time that we give them, there is a chance for redemption."

  "You just said speeches aren't necessary," Mandollel says.

  Finna and I both crack a smile. I tense my face not to laugh out loud, seeing the way he pouts. Rworg winks at me, the first wink I've seen since leaving Tenorsbridge.

  Mandollel watches us break into laughter and starts to chuckle as well. "To be outwitted by a barbarian and laughed at by children. Such is my lot and reward for trying to help humans," he says, eyes sparkling and squinted in laughter. "Eat the rest of your snake so we can get going, you goblins."

  I watch the horizon as we prepare. The orange haze has diminished, but I don't know if that's a good or a bad sign. The Kertharians have maybe pushed further into Velonea, or they have been killed. Either way, I hope it means fewer Kertharians will be near enough to reach us.

  I help Rworg secure his sword on his back. He thanks me once again, and I manage not to say he doesn't need to thank me. I just shake his hand. A hug wouldn't have been out of the question, but he does smell like death, even from the distance of a handshake. Still, it feels important to send them off properly. Whatever happens next, it will probably be the most dangerous part of this mission.

  "I've memorized the location, so you can keep the one showing where we need to take the device," Mandollel says. "Remember the way I showed you. Not as hard as you can, always hold back a bit. Control is more important than the raw amount." He goes faster word by word, managing to finish the reminder before Finna interrupts him.

  "I got it. You just handle your part," Finna says. Her eyes are dark, her face pale, cheeks rosy. They are visible for once, as she did let him braid her hair. They both complained about the tangles for the whole time, but in the end, they did get it done. Mandollel suggested he could shape her eyebrows a bit, but at that point, she did threaten to stab him.

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  I have to admit she looks great. Her neck is long, and her ears are small and cute. I squeeze my other eye shut and bite my tongue between my teeth, turning my focus back to Mandollel.

  He hands me a thick bundle of arrows, freshly made. "I hope you won't need these, but if you do, they will fly true. Travel safe, you two."

  We clasp hands. He turns away and launches into a run. The sound it makes is like an owl flying by, a flutter of something in the dark.

  "Goodbye, Folke and Finna!" Rworg shouts and turns to follow Mandollel. The elf gazes back and splutters his lips as Rworg stomps to catch up with him.

  Finna sticks a finger into her cute ear and turns it around in there. "Guess this really is it," she says.

  "Yup," I say. There's not much else to say. We settle down to wait, sitting back to back for warmth. It makes my cheeks feel hot, if nothing else. I focus on adding the fletching to the arrows, trying to ignore her braid brushing against my bare neck.

  My quiver is full. Finna's daggers are sharp. We walk over the swamps, not hurrying this time. She guides us, looking at the map every once in a while. She isn't as sure as Mandollel and doesn't go as long stretches without making sure we're still going in the right direction, but I'm still impressed.

  I've always been bad with maps. Once I've seen a place, I can find it again and make my way around well enough, but using a map has never come naturally for me. Lille always said that I'd have to personally walk around the whole continent to find my way anywhere, unless I learned.

  Turns out, I could just have people read the maps for me, hah.

  The place is another patch of swampland, as depressing as the rest of the swamp has been. The land is flat as a tabletop as far as the eye can see, dotted by puddles and clumps of moss and trees the size of bushes and frogs the size of rabbits. Or at least, that's what they sound like.

  If someone attacks us, there will be nowhere to hide, but the possibility feels remote. No horse could make it through this bog, and anyone moving on foot would take longer to reach us than the whole thing should take with the stake if Finna speeds it up.

  I'm still not sure how tough it will be on her. So far, using mana has just made her hungry, but I think the amount will be higher this time. I have a big portion of meat wrapped up, just in case. We waited and rested for a couple of hours before leaving. We agreed that we would set the stake just before the sun peeks over the horizon. That should give Rworg and Mandollel enough time to reach their spot, and we want the Kertharians to notice the disturbance Finna causes first. Maybe we'll pull off some Kertharians from the west, making it easier for Rworg and Mandollel to handle their part. Their auroras will hopefully draw away some Kertharians coming after us and help us slink away from the swamp and to the west.

  Once Rworg and Mandollel spot the first signs of our auroras, well, Mandollel will probably be the one doing the spotting, with Rworg's eyesight being what it is, they will set their stake.

  We'll meet at the location of the device, hopefully without half the Kertharian army and mages behind our backs. The final thing Mandollel did before leaving was to teach us how to operate the device, if we would need to do it without him.

  It was surprisingly simple, in the end. The knobs and levers don't all even move. They've been set in Tenorsbridge to be correct for this single purpose, and melted or welded in place. Probably to stop anyone from using the device against them, even in the case that we would fail enough for the thing to end up in Kertharians' hands. Still, they must trust us quite a bit to have let us just run around Kerthar carrying it around. For a good reason, it seems. After the first mishap, none of us has even gotten scratched so far.

  "How about now?" Finna says, peering to the east. The sky is turning from black through dark to light blue just where it touches the horizon.

  I weigh the stake in my hand. I've been turning it around and poking small holes into the moss for the last quarter of an hour. Water trickles to fill the holes as I watch them. "I think so. We still have some darkness left. Ready?"

  Finna rubs her hands together, spreads her arms wide to the sides, wiggling her fingers. "Always."

  I set the stake on the ground and stomp on it. It's much easier here than it has been in the previous spots. The stake plops into the moss and my boot sinks so deep, I barely avoid pulling out a bootful of swamp water.

  "Great, now I have to stick my hand in up to my elbow," Finna says. She rolls up her sleeve and starts to look for a place to kneel. "Keep an eye on the horizon, Big Foot."

  Just one stomp, and now I'm called the Big Foot? I guess it's better than Peacock. There's nothing to look at in the horizon. She keeps making faces, holding her hand underwater. The blue glow lights up her face from below, shining through the green water.

  "The water is damn cold," is all she says during the whole time.

  I can feel it happening this time. Hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and cold shivers run through my body, but they feel like they are something external, an invisible wave passing through me and raising my skin into goosebumps.

  The auroras blaze into the sky. They snap and rattle, loudly this time. Actual sparks of blue drift down on us. They hiss when they touch the water. The light is intense green, streaked by brilliant white and burning crimson.

  Finna yanks her hand up from the water with a sucking sound. She moves her fingers, wrinkled from being submerged, and hugs the arm to her chest. "Damn, they are going to see that all the way from Krakkea. Or Tenorsbridge, for that matter."

  "Maybe they will send help?" I say. Concerning how bad they made the war sound for Velonea, I doubt they will.

  "As if," Finna says, shivering. She pulls down her sleeve and wobbles, almost losing her balance.

  I catch her before she falls. She's cold and clammy, maybe from using so much mana or holding her hand underwater for ten minutes. Probably both. The swamp is like something from a nightmare. A green, ghostly bog, steam rising and painted into swirling colors by the auroras. It's harder to see far, but we're already done. No one can get to use before we're well on our way toward east.

  I hug Finna close, trying to warm her enough so we can get moving. The auroras start to crackle. The sky screeches, like something alive being ripped apart. Tendrils of light reach south, snapping and lashing in the air.

  I knew everything was going too well.