It was the largest mound of corpses Elba had ever seen. It teetered dangerously to one side, the frozen shock of a hundred dead faces staring back at her.

Dead rebels lay scattered at the base of it. Dead Forsworn too, the occasional Chosen seen here or there, heads cleaved off, bodies ripped apart, or burned to black ash.

There were no ravens to pick at the dead. Nor rats or mice or even fleas. Even the dead were unfit to eat in Danic. It reminded Elba bitterly of the foul tasting cabbage soup she'd endured eating. She'd have rather chewed on a rat instead.

Besides the solumn dead, the courtyard was strangely quiet. Battle could be heard off in the distance, but it was faint and irregular now. Had the rebels succeeded in their attack, or were the other Chosen simply mopping up the stragglers now? It was hard to say, and she wasn't going to stick around to find out.

Something glinted in the mass of bodies towering over her. She narrowed her eyes, nose curling at the faint whiff of corpse stink chased off by the wind, and saw it. The grip of a sword protruding out of a Forsworn's chest. She flexed her fingers, leaned in, and took hold of it.

"Feth me," Elba cursed under her breath, looking away as the blade slipped wetly out, dead man staring at her accusingly.

"Don't look at me like that. You'd be thanking me now if you were still alive." She held the sword up, noting the tiny chips and cracks along the surface. It would do for now, and she wasn't about to dive back in for anything better.

"Found something useful, have you?"

Elba turned sharply about and wished she hadn't as a small wave of nausea washed over her. Oh how quickly she'd forgotten of her child when her own life was on the line, and it was mercilessly swift to remind her.

"Saga? What the hells are you doing here? I thought you and the others were leaving on the damn boat?"

The hill woman leaned back with both hands on her hips and smiled. "And like I told you I can't farking swim so I decided to follow you instead."

Elba stared at her. "But...but what about the others? Are they safe? Are they—,"

Saga held up her hand. "It's all right, Rook. It's all right. Look, I made sure the rest of our merry little band made it out safe and sound. Emme and Astrid took the middle seats, and Tergrid and Nora got themselves an oar each. Good thing too, cause there weren't much room left on that farking boat the witch promised us."

Elba blinked, trying desperately to piece all her words together into one coherent thought. "Wait, you only mentioned the four of them. What about—,"

A husky voice brushed against her ear then. "I figured I'd stay behind as well."

Elba would have whirled about a second time had she not learned that quick movements made for very unhappy children. Besides, there was only one person in all of Danic she knew with a voice as deep and rich and Regis.

"Grimm," Elba said coolly. "I take it the boat was too small?"

" It was very...cramped," Grimm said as she eyed a heavy mace in her hands, rubbing at the ribbed edges with her thumb.

"I see. So, does that mean I get to enjoy the company of the two best swordswomen in all of Danic?"

"Nah," Grimm said with a flinty smile. "The best would be my Mah. She taught me how to swing a sword after all, but she ain't here, so you'll have to settle for second and third instead." She gave Saga a stony wink, and for once the hill woman smiled back at her.

"Oh, now I finally get to see some bones out of you," Saga said. "It only took Emme slipping the leash off of you to see it, aye?"

"That's right. The chains are off now." Grimm hefted the heavy mace over one shoulder, turning her head this way and that, neck bones popping, corded muscles straining. She closed her eyes and smiled, a sharp, sinister slash revealing two rows of shiny, sharp teeth. "Now, I get to settle some scores."

Saga's own smile slipped just a little. Perhaps this was the first time she'd seen the killer in Grimm. Perhaps she was even starting to regret it. A shame, really. Elba had seen it the entire time.

There's these little changes that go through people when they realize someone isn't what they expected. All the little ideas they once had quickly disappear, cleaved away by the truth, revealing the hard facts beneath. They go still and slack as they put you back together in their minds. Sometimes the pieces don't fit back together perfectly, and it scares them something fierce.

"So that's it then?" Elba asked, shaking Saga from her stupor. "You two decided to follow me deeper into the castle instead of escaping with your lives?"

"All women from my tribe are expected to die horribly," Saga said, putting some fierceness back into her voice. "If I die a coward's death, such as drowning for example, then I'd have no right to stand with the Menhir as their guardian when the time comes. I can't allow that."

"Like I told you," Grimm said. "I came to settle some scores. Best time to do it is on a battlefield, I reckon. No one really knows who stabbed who in the end, and no one really cares."

All fair points, in their own psychotic way. Elba considered them both, realized it was probably better to go together then alone, and nodded her head as if she'd come up with the plan herself. "Well, I suppose there's no denying either of you. Can I ask a favor then? One I feel I've no right to ask, but will do so regardless."

"I'm listening." Saga leaned forward, cupping one ear with a hand. Grimm nodded intently.

"Would you stay by my side for a little while longer? Long enough for me to find my husband. Then you can continue on with your quests of...dying terribly and killing those who wronged you."

Not the best way to put it, but Elba was too tired to phrase it any better. Libro was the one with the silver tongue, after all. She was the one with the silver sword arm.

Saga tapped a finger to her lower lip, eyes rolling at the sky as she pondered over her answer. "Well, that is a rather tall request to make. I suppose I'd have to hear Grimm's answer first to decide my feelings on the matter."

"I'm going," Grimm said immediately.

Saga gave a mock sigh and looked down, spotted a nice looking spear laying nearby and kicked it up with her foot. She snatched it out of the air, weighed it, and smiled. "Well shit. Guess I should come along too, then. The more the merrier, as they say."

Elba forced out a watery smile. She'd spent a lot of luck getting to where she was now. Something kept telling her that luck would quickly run out if she started to reckless.

But she had a sword now, and two people she could rely on to protect her. If her luck ran out, she'd simply have to resort to good old fashioned violence.

"All right," Elba said. "Then let's go.

*

Now there was a sight to behold. Elba paused round the corner of a burning building. Several Forsworn had gathered around a gate, beating their axes uselessly at the ironwood bars. Three Chosen stood behind them, shuffling about restlessly, muttering to themselves, staring up at the murder hole above them with disapproving eyes.

"What's going on?" Grimm muttered as she loomed over Elba for a closer look.

"Looks like someone locked them out." Elba peeked up at the gatehouse, heard the faint clatter of weapons, shadows flitting past the arrow slits. "If I had to wager a guess, I'd say my husband probably had something to do with it."

"Cheeky little sneak sure has a way with doors, eh Rook?" Saga asked, giving Elba a sly poke on the shoulder.

"He is quite good at it."

"They'll never get through with the gear they have now," Grimm said. "That gates built to withstand battering rams, much less a couple of axes. They'll never get through."

"Hopefully they'll realize it and move on." Elba stared back down at the Chosen. They were arguing loudly now, teeth clenched as they chattered in the Danic tongue. One of them, the tallest of the three, started barking out orders, pointing west towards an alley. The other two Chosen bowed their heads, growled a few words at their subordinates, and stalked off.

"Well thank our lucky stars," Saga said. "Guess we don't have to worry about—" her remaining words tumbled out in a surprising gasp as Grimm clapped a heavy hand on her shoulder, calloused knuckles pressed stark white against the skin.

"Farking hell," the hill woman snarled. "What did I do this time?"

"It's him." Grimm's voice came out a seething snarl, low and slow like the drawing of a blade.

"Him?" Saga asked incredulously. "Him who? For farks sake you're not making any damn sense!"

"It's Asmund."

Elba peeked back around. The remaining Chosen was a tall, big boned monster with a round head, beady eyes, and a fleshy face despite his heavy decomposition. His nose was missing, revealing two narrow slits beneath, his flabby body swaddled in Black Glass, heavy sword strapped at its side.

"Farking shit," Saga muttered. "What are the farking odds?"

"How can you tell?" Elba swallowed. She could see Grimm becoming visibly angry at the sight of the creature. "All these bastards look the same to me. A corpse is a corpse."

"No." Grimm shook her head, never taking her eyes off Asmund. "It's him. I know it." She stepped away from the building, mace gripped tight in one hand, heavy footsteps crunching in the snow. "He's the one who hurt Nora. He's the one who tormented us for months."

"Grimm!" Elba hissed, but there was no stopping her now. That woman was more bullheaded and brazen than even Regis. There was no stopping her now, only mitigating the damage she was about to cause.

"Fark!" Saga squirmed, fingers wringing around the grip of her spear. "What do we do, Rook? What do we do?"

"We go after her, and make sure she doesn't get herself killed." Elba charged off after Grimm, Saga's boots scraping after her a second later.

It was about twenty paces in before Asmund noticed Grimm approaching. It was yelling something in Danic to the remaining Forsworn before it turned around, piggy eyes squinting at her.

"What the fark?" It spat, nasally voice whistling in the back of its throat. "What are you doing out of the tower, bitch? Get back in your room before I—"

Grimm swung the heavy mace hidden behind her back, cracking Asmund hard across the jaw, sending it sprawling into the snow with a bone shattering thud.

It mewled and tried to get back up, but Grimm hit between the shoulders , slamming him back down, leaving a fist sized dent in its breastplate.

"Agh," Asmund wheezed, tried to crawl away, but Grimm was fast, faster than Elba had ever seen her move before. She planted her boot down, raised the mace high, and sent it hurling back down. It smacked into the back of Asmund's skull, rust colored ashes spilling out and staining the snow a brownish red.

She hit it again, and again, and again, the other Forsworn watching on in stark disbelief, as if they'd never seen one of their own elite reduced to pulp before their very eyes.

By the time Elba and Saga arrived, Asmund's head was little more than a vague outline of what a skull should look like. Grimm kicked the body away, sent it flopping into a corner, and turned to the other Forsworn.

"Well?" She snarled at them. "Does anyone have the stomach for vengeance?"

A lot of them shook their heads. A few dropped their weapons and started to back away.

"Goddess." Saga curled her lip up and spat. "If this ain't the most pitiful thing I've seen yet."

"All right then," Elba said, shouldering Grimm to address the crowd. "Get out of here now. All of you. Before Grimm here starts putting heads on spikes."

The other Forsworn looked at each other, looked at Grimm, looked at the convenient alley she'd left open for them to escape too.

They were smart boys in the end, practically stumbling over themselves as they ran for the hills.

Grimm watched them go. "Would have been nice, killing those traitors."

"It would have been a waste of your talents," Elba said. "Remarkable work with Asmund there. I could learn a thing or two from you."

"Aim for the head. That's my advice."

"I'll remember that." Something hot and wet plopped on Elba's head. She froze, put two fingers to the spot, tips of her fingers coming back crimson. She looked up sharply. A face stared down at her from the murder hole, bloodshot eyes wide with shock, green beard frozen with dirty rime.

"Moss," she breathed, heart fluttering at the sight of him. First relief, then a deep, crushing fear. He was bleeding all over, scratches and bruises all over his face, one eye sealed sticky shut from a jagged cut along his brow. His greasy hair was matted and tangled with old blood, his or someone else's she couldn't tell.

"Elba." His voice was a sour, guttural scratch against her ears, and she choked back a sob.

"Moss," she sniffled. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, girly." His stony frown broke away in a weak smile. "How's the kiddo?"

Elba placed a hand over her belly, reassurance flooding her senses despite it all. "Safe and alive, I think."

"Good," Moss nodded, his one working eye fluttering to stay open. "That's good."

"Are you all right?"

"Never better. Dealt with a few Forsworn. Nothing I can't handle."

"I should go up there. Make sure you're all right."

Moss waved the thought away. "No, no, it's fine. Just a scratch is all."

"But I should—"

"Libro's beyond the gate," Moss cut her off. "Trying to kill the Right Hand. He needs help. Your help."

"Libro?" Elba swallowed, remembering why she was escaping Kel Dracon in the first place. "Are you sure you're all right? I could send Saga or Grimm to help you."

"I'll be fine. Kill that bastard and let's get out of here." Moss disappeared from view, and for a moment Elba stood there, fear coursing through her sore, aching body. Fear for Moss, fear for her husband, fear for what lay beyond the gate.

"Whatever happens, I'm with you." Grimm placed a heavy paw on Elba's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "You got me this far. You gave me my vengeance. For that, I am grateful."

"I'll stick around too, Rook." Saga saddled up beside her, stamping the butt of her spear on the cobbles. "Besides, I'm curious to meet this man of yours. Does he have a sister by chance?"

"Saga," Grimm growled.

"What?" The hill woman demanded. "Am I ruining the farking mood or something?"

***