Here we are, in the middle of the clearing, again. Mandollel, Finna, Rworg, and me. The familiar unfamiliar trees surround me, the white rocks jut out from the ground. The smell of dirt and pines and moss hangs in the air.

  Somewhere on the other side of the border, the Kertharians are preparing to attack the nearest settlements and then all of Velonea.

  This time for real.

  “Folke, help Finna get the Device out. I’ll put the Gem back into its place,” Mandollel says. He cradles the Time Gem in his slender hands. Even in the darkening forest, his hair is light and almost seems to shine. He’s taller than me and equally thin, but from the time he fell on me, I know he weighs a ton. I have no idea if it’s an elven thing or if it’s because he seems to be made of coiled steel springs, based on how strong he is and how he moves.

  I catch the backpack as Finna shrugs it off her. The whole adventure in Tenorsbridge, unveiling the conspiracy, stealing the Time Gem from Lictor, it was all preparation. I can’t get distracted, lost in feeling homesick or worry about what awaits me once I’m back.

  I unfasten the straps and pull out the Device. It sits heavy in my hands, thick plates of metal forming a sphere. Around it are more knobs and levers than I’ve seen so far in my life put together. I set it on the ground and stand up.

  I’ve promised everyone to be back. I’ve died enough times to know I really don’t want to. The Mountain Ride helped me get to the bottom of everything in Tenorsbridge, but now I’m on my own. The real adventure begins now. The real danger.

  Finna pries off the plates. The Device yawns empty without its core, complicated insides laid bare. Mandollel is still transfixed with the Gem, his almond eyes staring into its depths and reflections. Rworg nudges him and he makes a soft sound. When he moves, it’s like he’s been sped up. His fingers are a blur as he sets the Gem back into its place in the Device. Maybe the Gem affects him. I have no idea what its powers are.

  With a final turn of his knife, the last screw locks the plate back in place, covering the Gem. Not having to watch the light play on and in it anymore is a relief. Not one of us could look away while the Gem was still visible.

  Mandollel slides it back into Finna’s backpack and closes the straps. She is as disheveled as always. Her hair is equal parts thick, luxurious, and grimy. Her clothes look like they’ve been picked off the gutter, full of patches and stains, but it’s a show. They are well made, thick, flexible. Nothing on them that makes any kind of noise. She can move in them freely and the colors blend into the shadows of the forest.

  Rworg adjusts his gear, tests the handle of his sword to make sure he can get it off his back if needed. The sword sits to one side of his back, it and him equally massive. The curved blade is nearly as long as me and even he can fit both of his huge hands on the hilt. I’ve still seen him use it one-handed. The guy’s stupidly strong. That’s about as much as I know about him, really. He’s from Kerthar, even further from the east than the people we’ve fought so far.

  Mandollel peers into the forest. The motes of light in his eyes glow faintly in the gloom. “We need to move. For once, we can do all this according to plan.”

  Rworg huffs and nods. Finna grunts. About what I’d expect. Finna adjusts the bag on her back and grabs onto the straps, steadying herself.

  “Wait, what about the camp?” I ask. “Ah, right, you don’t know about it.”

  Things will still be confusing for a while. We’ve all been on our own personal Rides using the artifact, looping time or whatever it was that the thing did. We’ll have time to go over everything on the road, but for now, we’re still in the dark. During the last three hours or so, I’ve lived the same day over twice, died maybe eight times, flown over the entire region, fought and lost and won against Kertharians and a teratomes.

  The most vivid memory is the image of the farm burnt by Kertharians. Anything experienced on a Ride doesn’t really feel like much, but the burning house, the corpses, the utter senselessness of it all, haunts me.

  “There’s a Kertharian camp near here. They are planning an attack on a village. Tenorsbridge won’t do anything about it.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “I know of it,” Mandollel says. “We can’t risk the mission. You die every time we try attacking the camp.”

  “Well, it’s your plan that gets me killed every time.” Not that I’m petty, or anything.

  Finna bites the nail of her thumb, the click-click of her teeth sounding loud in the dark. “Of course they won’t do anything about it. It’s too close to our route.”

  I jerk my boot away as she spits a piece of nail toward my feet. “Lictor said that they couldn’t get it to work for some reason.”

  “Hah!” she says.

  “How will the village weather the attack?” Rworg asks. When he speaks, the syllables are mangled, squeezed, and spat out.

  Mandollel answers. “It won’t.” He’s looking into the forest like he can see through the darkness. He just might. Or then he doesn’t want to face Rworg. “Everyone will be killed. The Kertharians will continue further west, but we haven’t seen what happens after that. The Rides don’t reach that far. There’s no telling where they will end up.”

  I take my bow from my back and ready it. Without the extra thumbs, it’s so easy I almost forget what I wanted to say. “I have practiced attacking the camp. I have a plan that works. We’ve done it.”

  “Too risky,” Mandollel says, shaking his head.

  “I’m with Peacock,” Finna says. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  The small, still hand peeking from under the corpse of the mother. The smell of burning flesh. “They have a map that shows the positions of their camps on the other side of the border. We can use that information.”

  Rworg yanks the sword off his back. The fasteners snap open, letting the sword come loose. Putting it back will be much harder. “No. Not because of maps. Because it is our duty.”

  Finna groans and bites at another nail. “Forget it.”

  How did Lictor do it? I don’t have his magnetic intensity, the unnatural certainty of knowing exactly what is going to happen. He took us here and made us attack the camp. Even Mandollel didn’t question it.

  Finna did, though. I remind myself that she’s still the hostile and dubious version that left the moment things didn’t go like she expected. She’s not going to have any nails left before we reach the border if she keeps that up. Her mouth is tense, but what is visible of her eyes tells me she’s not as certain as she tries to sound.

  “Finna, I’ve seen what they do if we let them. They’ll kill everyone, even babies!” The words catch in my throat as I realize how much I sound like Lictor. I force myself to continue. “It doesn’t justify killing all the Kertharians like he planned, but with this camp, it really is about protecting the innocents. We’re all the protection they have.” There’s no need to specify who he is. Not after everything.

  “We’re all the protection the whole of Velonea has. Folke, we can’t risk it,” Mandollel says.

  I clench my fists. They are right. Of course they are. It’s not like I want to go shoot arrows at mages and risk getting killed five minutes into the mission, now that we are finally here.

  My thoughts are cut short by the racket of Rworg pushing his way into the forest. “I saw movement,” is all he says, snapping branches and trampling on the underbrush.

  “You just want to go fight!” Finna shouts at his back, voice low but loud in the dark.

  He stops, sword glinting in the scattered moonlight. “There are no excuses not to go. Protecting people is the mission.”

  Mandollel drags a hand through his hair and presses his palm on his brow. “This is why we don’t tell Rworg about the camp.”

  Everyone has their own collection of experiences. We’ve all been trained separately, taken on multiple Rides. If I remember correctly, Rworg and Finna don’t even know about camp. Mandollel obviously does, but he seems to know generally more about the big picture than the rest of us. Knowing what’s going to happen is a huge advantage, but I still can’t wait until I don’t have to stitch together experiences and memories and keep straight what happened and what didn’t.

  “You’re sure about this?” Finna asks me.

  When Lictor brought us here, she left without a second thought. With me, she’s at least willing to listen. “I’m sure. I can’t let them do this. I can’t.”

  She rolls her eyes, like she does. Smacks her lips and pushes a hand into her mop of hair to scratch at her scalp. Finally, she throws the hair off her face. “Alright, good enough for me. Let’s do it.”

  Rworg made a show of leaving, but stopped to listen to the rest of the discussion. His teeth shine white against the black as he grins at us.

  Mandollel sighs, defeated. I cut him off before he manages to start speaking. “We do it my way. Rworg goes first. We three approach from the side. I’ll explain the details as we’re getting closer. They’ll attack anyone they see nearly straight away.”

  “Straight away,” both Finna and Mandollel say. They look at each other and Mandollel shrugs. “At least they did attack you,” he continues.

  That explains why I always got killed when he made the plan. I wonder if he used me as a decoy, but on second thought, I don’t really want to know. “They don’t attack Rworg. They listen for a moment to what he has to say.”

  Rworg’s face is blank, his voice steady. “Must be because I’m handsome.”

  “That is actually interesting to hear,” Mandollel says. He rubs his chin and pouts, then turns toward the forest. Guess he’s convinced as well.

  I still have my bow in my hand. I change my grip to make sure it won’t get tangled up in anything as we start creeping closer to the camp.

  “Not even a chuckle?” Rworg asks.

  Finna walks past him and pats him twice on the upper arm in consolation.

  It’s about as high as she can reach.

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