I rolled to my side. By the Oracle, I couldn't stand. But I needed to summon the strength. I might have been too weak to fight, but I would be damned if I couldn't find a way to die on my feet at least.

I took my sword and tried to use it to lever myself up. The unnaturally sharp blade simply disappeared into the ground, affording no support. I hit the dirt again, chest first, and barked with pain as my wound reminded me that I was a fool.

Dirk had crawled closer. "Yinz need to rest up a minute. We'll figure it out."

I groaned. "Unless we can figure out how to put a few pints of blood back into my veins I don't think resting is going to help."

He spoke weakly himself, the exhaustion of his own injuries taxing him. "Does no good to push now. What would a few minutes matter. Take a chance to get yinz energy back."

I said, "I can't. There's a Footfield coming."

I could hear the urgency and rising panic in my voice. The Buffalo Griidlords had turned murderous during the Choosing. If they had seen the scene of bloody carnage I had made of their knights, and found me here, my guilt would be proven. It would surely mean death for me in this state. It might mean war with Boston. I cursed again my foolishness.

Dirk followed the direction of my gaze as I stared into the distance, sensing the Footfield.

He said, "That way."

There was something almost like amusement in his tone.

I nodded.

He rolled back, letting the ragged grass of the Wilds cushion him like a mattress. "We're gonna be okay."

I said, "How?"

He smiled. The smile was only half real, blurred by pain and fatigue. "Because that's east."

I shook my head, trying to clear the daze. I was woozier than I had realized. He was right. The Footfield was coming from the east, not the west as I had imagined.

Seconds later the distorting dome of the Field appeared over the crest of a hill. The Footfield was dazzling in the storm. Rain drops passed through it, but as they did, they seemed to enter another plane of space-time. The water made what looked like a quicksilver glaze around the Field.

A few moments later they were on top of us. The Field disappeared, and Olaf and Tara were rushing to us.

"Ti," Olaf bellowed. "The hell do you think you're doing out here."

Tara slowed, looking between me and Dirk. His presence was understandably puzzling to her.

I stammered, "How did you find us."

Olaf lifted the helm of his suit away so I could see his face. He said, "The alarm was raised after… what happened… when Balthazar found out about… when he found out about Perdinger and that you'd gone after him, he sent us to come get you."

I said, "He sent the Shield? Tara would have been faster."

Tara said, "I wouldn't have been able to convince you to come back. But you might have listened to him. Besides, after the last time, I'm not going within leagues of that fucking city."

Olaf knelt by me. He pushed me over, exposing my wound. I had a momentary awareness of how strong he was. The Shield suit was all strength and bulk, the man within no less so.

As he applied his hands to the wound, his eyes didn't leave my face. He was inspecting me for more than physical damage. His eyes were deep with concern. He said, "Ti… did you get him."

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I shook my head, suddenly unable to find words. The accusation of my failure cut me deeply. Too deep for words.

Heat pulsed through my core from Olaf's hands as he employed HEALING HANDS. Light flared, fracturing through the rain between us to cast a misty aura.

Olaf spoke slowly as his skill knitted my broken flesh together. "If you didn't catch Perdinger… how did you get this wound."

The nature of his concern became clearer. There was no doubt he was worried about my psyche after what had happened to Lauren. But, being aware that I had crossed the lands with murderous intent, and finding me here wounded as one could only be after a battle, there must have been confusion and deep anxiety as to what I had done.

Dirk answered for me. "There'll be time enough for that when we get back to Boston, m'lords and lady. He didn't scale the walls of the city if that's what yinz worried about."

I closed my eyes hard as I remembered the intensity of my rage when Perdinger had reached the safety of the gates. I had been about to scale the walls or hack them down. I was completely certain that, had Dirk not called me to his aid, I would have done that very thing.

In this moment, lying in the grass, rivulets of rainwater surging across every surface of my armor, the rage seemed to have taken refuge somewhere else. In its place was a strange hopeless numbness.

My friend was dead.

With the healing completed, I was able to stand again. The power of Olaf's skill was incredible. We hadn't had an opportunity to experience the tactical advantage HEALING HANDS could bring. Olaf could take a downed Griidlord and make them combat ready again in minutes. If only the skill didn't have such a painfully long cooldown.

Olaf hefted Dirk to his shoulder. He did it with care.

I let Tara pluck the strands of my Footfield loose to tie them in with hers and Olaf's. They wove them together quickly and easily and we moved again. I was almost completely healed. A trace of weakness clung to my body, probably from the blood loss, but I was able to run, not just stagger, my way back to Boston.

I ran in silence. Olaf and Tara tried to engage me, probing me, testing my mental state. I mostly ignored them. I had only one thought in my mind. Perdinger needed to pay.

***

As we crossed the flatter plains and shallow hills that marked the farmlands of Boston, the storm faded behind us. Night was closing in, and a new darkness was arriving, but in the wake of the storm, the sky still grey but lighter, there was an unnatural stillness that did nothing to soothe the bleakness in my heart.

I struggled to understand what we were going back for. I struggled to keep my thoughts in enough order to imagine any minute after the one I was existing in. I let Tara and Olaf lead and just aimed my paces at their backs.

When we arrived at the city gates there was a rush of activity. Soldiers were massed in ranks. The guards on the walls and the gates had been doubled, tripled. Knights of varied house colors clustered in groups, many of them still mounted. I saw the colors of House Oakcrest.

A Tower aide moved toward us as we left the Footfield. I knew the woman, she worked directly for Balthazar. Jean. She was a slim brunette, utilitarian in attire. On the few occasions I had seen or interacted with her I had gained the impression that she was utilitarian in all aspects.

She spoke quickly, bowing her head as she neared us. "My lords, my lady. It does my heart good to see you back safely."

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, inspecting. My wound was healed, but the hole in my suit remained. Her quick eyes didn't fail to take in the detail. Emotion flashed so briefly across her face as she took me in. She banished it in a heartbeat, but I saw it. Worry.

She went on. "Lord Balthazar would see you at once."

I waved at her, denying the suggestion. "Jean, I can't right now. I..."

I didn't know what I wanted. I knew I didn't have the fortitude to be in Balthazar's presence. I had the vague awareness that liquor could make all these feelings go away. It wasn't a fully formed plan, but I felt a tug toward the obliteration only alcohol could bring. It could be a safe port in the sea of anguish that threatened to drown me.

She spoke again, her voice just as reverent as before, but somehow firmer at the same time. "My lord, with respect, that won't be possible. The Lord Supreme is convening an emergency council. Your presence is compulsory."

Rage flared in me. I heard the dangerously flat tone of my voice as I said, "Compulsory?"

POWER flickered in me. I felt it. Tiny paths of fire traced themselves over my armor for a moment. I didn't mean them to present themselves. They came unbidden. Who dared compel me after what I had experienced that day.

Jean took a step back, eying me. It was the same look Olaf had used on me. I suddenly understood that there was concern for my sanity. It wasn't unreasonable. I had seemed to race across the lands to wage single-handed war against the city of Buffalo. I was standing before a simple aide burning with the corporeal light of my anger.

I found the flex of POWER that seemed tied to my rage and untied the knot, relinquishing POWER.

She said, "My lord, I know. The Lord Supreme knows the loss you suffered this day. The Lord Supreme cherishes you, my lord. He wouldn't burden you with the need to attend the council chamber if it were not vital."

"Today's events might mean war."

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