For a heartbeat, the world holds its breath as my eyes linger on Hamza's broken form.

  Hamza...?

  I charge, snow spraying underfoot, the screams of the dying drowned beneath the pounding in my ears. Brigands stand between me and Yurik, blades raised....

  But I’m faster.

  Much faster.

  My spear lunges, jabs, twists.

  Throats open, guts spill, bodies fall. I don't stop. I'm not sure I can.

  My 'heart' blazes with... something. A storm. A hunger. I feel strong, fast and move with a clarity I've never known. Before I know it, the path between me and Yurik is cleared and my spear is launched at the back of his neck-

  "What-?"

  With a growl, Yurik leaps back, avoiding the thrust by inches.

  His face twists in fury as he turns to me, warhammer dragging through the mud.

  “You… that’s right. The bleeding heart came with you, didn't he?” Yurik growls, his eyes shadowed. “That’s disappointin’, Seven. I thought we were alike.”

  He lifts his warhammer, leveling it at me like an accusation. “That makes the lot of you snakes then, eh?! Who sent you?!”

  I don't answer. There’s no point, and no time.

  He swings the hammer in a brutal arc, aiming to smash my ribs. I retreat, jabbing forward with my spear to force him back. The point nicks his shoulder, scraping along his brigandine, but the armor holds strong.

  Around us, the battle rages. Brigands and mercenaries clash, bodies slamming into each other, screams and curses filling the air. A wounded man stumbles between Yurik and me, and Yurik shoves him aside like a sack of flour, using the distraction to charge.

  I brace my spear low, trying to keep the distance, thrusting at his knees. He grunts, twisting aside and swinging his hammer low. I leap back, the blow sending up a spray of snow where I had stood.

  "Afraid, little rat?!" Yurik bellows, spittle flying.

  He lunges again. I sidestep, raking the spear across his thigh. He snarls and lashes out, catching my shaft with the haft of his hammer and jerking it aside. For a moment, my arms strain to hold onto the weapon, nearly yanked from my grip.

  Yurik stares at me, his gaze sharp and cutting. “So this yer plan from the beginnin', eh? That bastard Two send you? Or was it that monster Maldor?”

  I shake my head silently, briefly looking to Hamza.

  He... isn't moving.

  Yurik squints, searching my face. “Then why? Why turn on us?”

  I shrug, cold and flat. “Coin. Mayor put a bounty on all your heads. I will collect.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  No reason to tell him more. Who knows what could happen if he survives today...

  Not that I'll let that happen.

  Yurik barks a short, bitter laugh. “Workin’ for old Edwin, are ya? Didn’t see that one comin’. Guess I should’ve.”

  We circle each other, snow swallowing our boots. I feint left, then stab right, aiming for his exposed side. He bats the thrust away, but the momentum carries him a step off balance.

  I surge forward, trying to drive the spear into his throat, but a falling mercenary slams into my back, knocking me off-balance. I stagger, and Yurik sees the opening.

  He roars, hammer raised high, and I barely roll aside as it slams into the snow with a heavy thud.

  Shit. Mail or not, one hit from that hammer and I'm fucked.

  I dart back to my feet, spear jabbing to keep him at bay. He snarls, mud and snow splattered across his face, teeth bared like a wild beast.

  "Chose the wrong side boy, Edric will change this kingdom."

  As Yurik lunges again, I kick a spray of snow straight into his eyes. He snarls, staggering back, furiously wiping at his face.

  "Cheap little bastard!" he roars.

  I lunge, ready to land a killing blow, but Yurik, grinning wickedly, twists suddenly, yanking a hidden dagger from his boot and flinging it low at my legs. Instinctively, I jerk back, but the blade slices across my calf, shallow but enough to throw my balance. I stumble, and just as I recover, Yurik kicks up a wave of snow and muck into my face, blinding me.

  "Two can play that game, boy!"

  I slash blindly with my spear, blinking away the snow, but Yurik casually knocks it from my hands, sending it spinning across the frozen ground.

  "Yer dead now!"

  I barely twist aside, but not fast enough. The hammer clips me, the mail absorbing the worst of it, yet the force still drives the breath from my lungs. I double over, gasping, vision swimming, the world narrowing to the stomp of Yurik's boots as he draws closer.

  I yank the club from my belt, gasping for air, but Yurik is faster. His warhammer crashes into the side of my weapon with a deafening crack, sending it flying from my grasp. My hand quivers violently from the jarring force of the blow, pain lancing up my arm.

  He looms over me, hammer raised high, sneering. "Pray to Lumina, boy. Ain't no one else gonna save you."

  "Grrngh-"

  He stops, a sudden thud striking his back, an arrow loosed by William.

  The shaft breaks against his brigandine, the crude hunting bow lacking the strength to pierce it. But even so, the impact jolts him, drawing his attention for a precious moment.

  I lunge forward, Joss's knife in hand.

  "You little fuck-"

  He catches me, dropping his hammer into the snow. Two hands clamp down on my wrist, iron-strong, and with a cruel grin, he twists, forcing the knife from my grip.

  "Almost had me boy. But yer too green."

  I grunt and knee him in the crotch, but the steel plates of his armor turn the blow aside uselessly.

  We wrestle furiously, slipping and sliding in the churned-up snow. He drives me back, locking his thick arm around my neck in a crushing headlock, wrenching me downward while twisting my torso painfully.

  Fuck, he's too strong!

  Even with the potion’s strength, I can’t overpower him. So I twist, desperate, muscles straining, until my right palm, closes around his face, shoving against his scarred, snarling features, trying to force him back and loosen the grip on my neck even a bit.

  My vision darkens, breath strangled in my throat. Desperation claws at me as I flail, my fingers scrabbling at his head, trying blindly to gouge an eye, crush a nose, anything to break free.

  But then, through the suffocating panic, I stop struggling, a fierce clarity sears into my mind.

  I speak the word.

  "H?tbolt."

  My palm, latched onto Yurik's snarling face, erupts in fire. A roaring blast of searing heat engulfs him, washing over his head and shoulders in an instant.

  His grip falters, the crushing force on my neck easing as he gurgles in agony. I suck in a ragged breath, but I don’t stop. My hand sears against his ruined face, fingers locked like a brand, pouring every last ember of power I have left into him. The smell of burning flesh fills the air. He thrashes weakly, but I press harder, screaming wordlessly as the heat surges.

  When the light fades, Yurik stands swaying like a broken marionette, his face charred, blackened, and unrecognizable, a guttural, wet wheeze rattling from his cracked lips before his knees buckle.

  "E-Edric..."

  He crumples into the snow, steam hissing from his scorched face as the cold bites into burned flesh.

  I did it... He’s dead....

  Hamza....

  Results

  + 1 Mana

  + 1 Life

  + 1 Skill

  -1 Brigand’s Club