Not everyone is a warrior when battle calls. Some choose a peaceful life, some lack the capacity for peace, and some never get a choice. When pulled to the battlefield, which do you want to be?

  -Unknown

  The next morning, I’m jolted awake by a sharp pain in my side. I open my eyes to find myself curled up on the stone floor of the chapel, facing the wall with the toe of a boot roughly grinding against my back, nudging me awake. I look up to see my new “friend”, the guard leader who met me outside the wall and tried to take credit for finding the elf assassin last night. As I turn to face him, I see the faintest hint of a smile.

  “Get up, or do you need another kick to get off your lazy ass?” He says in a gruff voice. I glare up at the man, and he returns my glare with a wide grin.

  “You were mouthing off last night to the lady, now time to back up your words.” He says, and I feel a sense of smugness and resentment flowing off him. I want to use my fist to wipe that smirk off his face. In my last life, I was more of a healer than a fighter. I never started fights; I always felt fighting was a waste, that no one deserved to get hit. It was antithetical to all my work of trying to hold people together long enough to get them to the hospital. A week on this planet had me reconsidering my position on nonviolence being a waste of time and energy.

  I get up before he takes the opportunity to kick me again. When I do, I square my shoulders, giving the subtle threat that if he kicks me again, I will answer him with more than a kick. “Do not kick me again, or you will regret it.”

  He leans and lowers his voice, “Is that a threat?”

  I lower my voice, “It's a promise.”

  I weigh my anger for him against his desire to punch me. I get through my empathy; it’s a close tie. Tension builds between us, both of us on the precipice of striking out. At the last moment, he reins in his anger, if only a little. My concentration on him is heightened by my empathetic sense, so I can hear his surface thoughts for a moment:

  He’s not worth it; the elves will get him before the day is out.

  After he backs down, he swivels around, leaving the chapel. I follow him out of the church, making my way through the sleeping bodies of the town’s villagers, covering the floor of the chapel. As I leave the warmth of the chapel, the crisp morning air cuts through the cloth under my leather armor, making me shiver.

  The sun’s rays glisten across the ocean in the distance as the morning light starts to peak over the horizon. The guards plot through the dirt roads of the town to a wide building, four times the size of the homes around it, but the walls made of shorn trees make it look like a wood cabin. Most of the streets are barren, but around this building is a swarm of townsfolk in mismatched armor and makeshift weapons.

  The guard speaks over his shoulder. “I bet a hot head like you thinks you could take the whole army yourself, but we need to send someone down there so we can hold the wall when you show your true colors.”

  I feel heat in my cheeks. This man is good at getting under my skin. Anger boils inside me at the accusation that I would abandon them. For a moment, I’m confused at my own anger. I don’t know these people, I don’t owe them anything. Then I think of the child Mia and the others, helpless in the chapel. I barely know Mia and her mother, but everything the guard says only adds to my desire to punch him in the face more.

  Still, I know that with battle on the horizon, infighting will only make things worse for the town. I wait outside as he slips through the crowd into the town’s armory. Moments later, he emerges with a scrawny kid in tow. The kid wears makeshift leather armor that is a bit too big while awkwardly holding a spear and shield. Like this kid will do more than get himself killed...

  The kid’s youth is apparent from his gawky mustache to his lanky arms. Realizing we’ll be fighting together and relying on each other to get through this battle, I hold out my hand in greeting. I hope the guard hasn’t done anything as devious as ordering the kid to stab me in the back. I doubt he would stoop that low, or that this kid would go through with stabbing me in the back.

  Trying to get a read on him, I reach out with my empathy, but his thoughts are so wild and scattered from fear, I can’t get a coherent read except for the vague bundle of nervousness. The boy looks lost, eyes darting, so I don’t take offense when he doesn’t shake my hand.

  “I need a few canteens of water,” I say. Most of my supplies are back on the boat. I want to travel light, and that means not lugging multiple water jugs. The guard eyes me and spits in front of me.

  “You need to go take up your position at the wall.” He says, pointing toward a section of the wall around the town. He starts walking, but I shake my head. I’m not his soldier, and I’m going to grab every advantage I can get. Canteens of water to aid my magic are too much of an advantage not to take with me.

  I walk into the building to see things abuzz. I grab one kid with a box of supplies in hand.

  “Where can I find water canteens?” He points to a spot on a table covered with water, old ratty-looking leather canteens, rough woolen bandages, and hard tack before running off. I walk over, grab three canteens with water, and throw them over my shoulder. A few people eye me, and I feel through my empathy that at least one person is about to yell at me, but I duck into the crowd and leave before anyone can say a word.

  When I exit the building, I find the guard red-faced with the cowering youth behind him. The guard says a few snotty comments under his breath before marching off. The guard leads us through the buildings to a spot near the outer wall. We’re a couple of hundred yards to the left of the main gate. In the early light of dawn, I shiver and bounce from foot to foot.

  Some of it is from the cold of early morning, but most is due to pre-battle jitters. Most of my fights up to now have been reactionary. It was kill or be killed, but I don’t enjoy having so long to think about which of the two I will be. Even when I took the fortress, I was reacting to their forces, their position, and the time of day. Now there is only waiting, not knowing when or how the enemy will attack.

  The guard points at me. “Heartbran says you are to hold this spot. Don’t let the arrows hit you in the back when you turn tail.”

  He punctuates by spitting. I glare a hole in his back as he starts his trek back into the heart of the city. With the guard gone, I turn to the kid I would be fighting beside. I put my hand out in a second attempt at an introduction. “Hey, my name is Jason, what’s yours?”

  He starts. “Ah, my name- it's, ah… Jimson.”

  “Hi Jimson, nice to meet you. You been a guard long?”

  Jimson looks at my hand wearily before slowly shaking it. “No, I‘m an apprentice at the mill. Did you hear anything about what is going on with the elves? Are they about to attack?”

  I shake my head. “Take a deep breath, Jimson. You and I will get out of this together. No word from the elves yet, let’s just sit tight.”

  “James says the elves can shoot better than any hunter and will rain magic down on us.”

  “Who is James?” I’m sure this James is just as scared as Jimson, but James is doing himself and the village no favors.

  “James is a year older; he has been working with the quartermaster helping up the other guards. He said he heard the guards talking about how the elves can shoot from a mile away.”

  I have nerves of my own, but I can recognize that the boy is emotionally spinning out of control. I take a deep breath and put a hand on his shoulder. He jumps slightly, and his eyes go wide.

  “You and I are going to be fine.” I project as much confidence as I can. “Everyone is nervous, and they are talking without thinking. Keep your shield up and follow my lead.”

  He raises his shield and mumbles. “Shields up, follow your lead.”

  I shake my head. “Relax, kid, the elves are nowhere near. Just take a seat and I’ll let you know when things are starting.”

  I check my health, stamina, and mana again, to see them sitting at full. I take stock of what else I have available. I’ve let go of my raised minion on the boat; food and water were valuable, but surviving this battle took priority. I don’t dismiss the minion Morgana is inhabiting, but her presence has reduced the cost, so it doesn’t even drain my mana. I grip my sword in my right hand and shield in the other. I don’t have current running, as I normally would. I slowly circled the water in my canteens on both sides. It isn’t a lot of water, but if I had barrels of water next to me, the elves my target me, suspecting some kind of trap.

  Jimson eyes me. “Bringing three canteens with you probably wasn’t smart, Mister. You’re going to have to piss right before the elves attack. We can’t be running to the latrine in the middle of the battle.”

  I smile and wave him off. Well, he certainly seems to be doing a little better. “I’ve only had a sip.”

  He looks down at me, jumping around to warm up and get rid of some of my jitters.

  Jimson raises one eyebrow questioningly. “It looks like you are doing the rain dance.”

  I roll my eyes. “Ha, very funny, no, I’m just jittery.”

  “What? Didn’t you say you killed that elf last night? They made it sound like you were some kind of professional soldier.” Jimson says to me, appraising me again.

  “Well, I’m not but-”

  “Wait, how many elves have you killed? Don’t tell me that was your first. It would be just my luck. Some farmer trips on an elf in the middle of the night, and now he is a hero.” Jimson says in a wilting tone. Yep, definitely doing better if he can summon that much sarcasm, I think to myself sourly.

  Before I can answer, I hear the deep ring of a bell from the chapel. Jimson and I go back to the wall to stand on boxes so we can see the elves approach. In the distance, well-formed columns of elves slowly trail their way towards the town. As the elves near, half of their number break off to form a line. They pull out bows, drawing and loosing their arrows. As they release a steady stream of arrows, the other half of their number sneaks forward, trying to close the distance. I realize none of the town guards have bows or arrows, so they hug the wall with their poorly made spears.

  I contemplate shooting ice shards, but I don’t think I can shoot ice shards that far, so I save the mana for later. I duck and focus on my mind sense, feeling out for those nearby. I feel the scared defenders, including Jimson, and at the edge of my mind, I feel hostile intentions getting closer. With the elves coming into range, I ready myself.

  Watching with mind sense, I wait until they are a few feet from the wall. From the corner of my vision, I see a blazing light coming from our side. I look to see the woman from last night on a raised platform, pointing her staff at the charging elves. The platform has a wall to shield her from arrows, but also contains slits where she fires from, literally. I see a little charring around the edge of where her staff had been. I’m a little jealous that she got cool laser powers. Before I can contemplate my lack of pyrokinetic powers, my mind sense tells me the elves were climbing over the walls.

  The first elf slides over to get skewered by Jimson and I’s blades. More elves follow the first. I let loose a well-timed mental pulse, causing the invader to flinch, so the elf has no time to block as our blades skewer him. Two more elves with swords took his place, and a third stood on the wall, readying a bow to provide cover.

  I pull water from a canteen to spin in front of me, just in time to deflect arrows and counterattack with ice daggers, skewering the archer trying to provide cover. Two more swordsmen make their way over the wall and charge at me. The left warrior gets to me first. I angle him so his body blocks the other one. I block his swing with my sword.

  Saying I’m a novice with the sword and shield would be very generous, but I have enough finesse to competently block my body with a shield and stab with a sword. Unfortunately, I’m not a match for the elf in melee combat, but I never planned to go toe to toe with an elf trained in physical combat.

  I planned to hold him off with my sword and shield while using my magic when I find an opening. The second elf continues to keep the pressure on me by following up with his own attacks.

  Unable to concentrate enough to form an ice shard, I resort to channeling water directly at him to knock him off balance. Despite causing no damage, the water takes most of the power out of the sword swing, allowing me to easily deflect his blow with my shield. The other elf tries to sneak under my shield, but I back up, creating enough distance to dodge.

  My mind fumbles for a solution. Should I raise their companion? No, he is sitting in the sun on the other side of the wall. Mental blast? No, it will take too much focus. Ice attacks? Again, too much focus.

  The spell forms are easy to summon, but I need more practice to make them at-will abilities. Still, I have a few tricks to trip him up. I reach out to the shadows behind the wall, raising patches and forming tendrils to grip their feet, throwing off their stride enough to give me some breathing room. Between shadows and my water current spell form, I keep the elves from bringing their superior skill and numbers to bear. The more they pressure me in the fight, overcoming my little tricks, I feel a rage build up in me.

  “Stop!” I roar out with all my power. A useless gesture turned into a powerful weapon when accompanied by an infusion of mental affinity mana.

  They both freeze for a second, and I pepper the right elf with three ice shards. He grunts as the sharp thud of ice impacts his body, and he falls to the ground. Facing down only one opponent, I activate the current spell form and circle the water onto his head. I keep turning it in place to cut off any air.

  The elf takes two more swings at me, then panic sets in. He claws at the bubble, but when it remains in place, he starts to scream. The scream is muffled in the globe of water, but I don’t let him suffer for long.

  I take advantage of his panic and finish him off with my sword. Out of the corner of my vision, I see the elf I peppered earlier is back on his feet, but after seeing his companion, he starts to run away, limping. I pull the water back to me from around the dead elf’s head and form a long icicle. I motion with my hand, and the icicle sails through the air, impaling the remaining elf against the stone wall.

  Behind me, there is another archer peaking over the wall. While fighting in close combat with the swordsmen, there was no clear shot, but now the archer is free to launch arrows. I feel a sharp peak of emotion as the archer sees his shot and grins at me. I raise my shield in time to block the headshot.

  The arrow penetrates through the wood into my arm, but it is superficial: just deep enough to draw blood. I hit him with a mind blast to buy me a few seconds to find cover. From cover, I concentrate on the shadows along the wall.

  Leaning over the wall, the elf doesn’t see the tendril of darkness wrap around him. The tendrils aren’t strong, but they’re enough to take the elf off guard. I hear the wet smack as he slams on the ground. Dazed and injured, he lies helplessly on the ground with his broken arm and blood running down his face. He cries out, cradling his bloody arm and the wide bone protruding from it. I put him out of his misery with a sword strike across his neck.

  I take deep breaths to calm my racing heart and mind. My stamina is below twenty percent. My mana is above fifty percent, which is honestly pretty good considering how much magic I needed this fight.

  Despite my current success, I’m not looking forward to taking on even one more of the elven warriors. While I came out almost unscathed, I don’t feel like I’m doing well. If I had made just one mistake, that could have been all the opening they needed to finish the job.

  I don’t pull up my stats, but I allocate all my points to squeeze every advantage I can. It might not be the right move to make decisions in the heat of the moment, but I want to do all I could to maximize my chances of surviving. I put points in strength, dexterity, agility, willpower, and intelligence. Then I quickly put the skill points in mental manipulation. I would probably level it faster than most of my other skills, but it had been a major factor in the fights so far and I did not want to come up short against an opponent.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Well, that was interesting. I didn’t expect a mind spell form, but I will take it.

  I muse over the new knowledge implanted directly in my mind as I look at the new active skill description. Distracted by looking at the screen, I don’t see the attack coming.

  Before I have time to contemplate what happened, an arrow slices my calf. I curse as I feel hot blood drip down my leg and retreat. I’m to pull out water to heal the wound, but I used the last of my canteens to finish the elf warrior. If I had been thinking I wouldn’t have let my supply of water drop after the fight, but it had already created a muddle puddle.

  Manipulating muddy water is much harder than pure river water. I release my tentative hold and take a few deep breaths before calling upon my blood magic. Slowly, the blood pouring from the bodies of the dead elves trails toward me, filling up my health pool.

  Without any water, I try to use the current spell form with blood. The spell form flickers like a faulty light switch. I can tell there is potential there, like it just needs a slight adjustment to work. An adjustment I will need to think about later. For now, I will have to manipulate the blood without a spell form. I gather as much blood as I can while I sit under the shade of a house, taking cover.

  Manipulating blood feels very different than water; it has the same need to flow, but it feels much heavier. It also doesn’t respond like I expect it to. It’s like when I first started commanding the undead; clumsy and disjointed. Not willing to bet my life on my fledgling blood magic, I dismiss it.

  I physically pull one of the dead elves into the depths of the shadow and raise the soldier. Through my mental sense, I feel the archer sneaking around the corner to finish me off. I command the undead to stay still to wait until the archer is in front of him to attack.

  I hear the faint footsteps of the archer, and he squeals as the recently dead elf tackles him, pulling him off his feet. I quickly round the corner to take advantage and stab down into the pinned elf.

  The sword clumsily stabs through his dead campion before going deep into the flailing elf. I raise the sword over and over until the warrior stops moving. I take deep, heaving breaths as the adrenaline drains away. I curse as I realize that the elf I raised earlier was also destroyed in my flailing. I look around when I realize Jimson is nowhere to be seen.

  I start to fear what happened to him, maybe one of the elves got him in the fight, but then I see an abandoned spear on the ground. I groan as I see he’s fled the field.

  Flashes of light illuminate the shadows of the city before I feel the earth shake through the city. I look over to see Olivia haggard but still firing beams of light at the enemy. The once scorched wall is now charred and slowly burning. Below her, I can see her companions surrounded by the corpses of four dead elves. Then I see on the other side an elf takes aim and hits Olivia. She shouts out before turning and blasting a hole through his chest.

  I focus on my mind sense and feel a few other elves moving through the city. Most of the elven invaders are standing in front of the gate and are about to scale the wall. A few guards try to push them back, but a scant few guards with spears can do little against a team of agile archers covering the advancing elves.

  I curse, knowing it’ll only get harder when the gate falls. I raise two to the elves and invest mana into them, so they’re level five. I don’t want to hamper my mana regeneration, but without a source of water to heal myself or shield myself from arrows, I will need the bodies to keep as much distance between the invaders and myself as possible.

  I think about trying to pull water from the ambient environment. I could pull water from the air or damp soil, but it’ll take a considerable investment of mana to summon forth very little water. I do, however, pull blood into my left canteen. It’s slow and a bit gross to carry a leather bag full of the blood of my enemies, but at least I’ll have something to heal me if I get hit again. With no additional notifications, I sheath my sword, pull off my damaged shield, and grab the dead elven archer’s bow and quiver.

  My plan is to have my undead with swords charge the enemies as they enter the town. I can hide myself in the shadows and snipe from the back. I look down at the bow in my hands and “tsk”. Maybe not snipe, I’m not great with a bow, but I can at least attack from a safe distance.

  I move into a dark corner and concentrate. I pull the shadows over myself with my shadow affinity and even try to mentally project “no one is sitting here in the corner, look elsewhere. There is only a wall here.” After a few minutes, I grin as I get two spell forms.

  Neither of the spell forms is an invisibility spell, but two stealth spell forms will make it significantly harder to locate me. The spells are nowhere near true invisibility, but it’s another tool in my magical toolbelt. My excitement is cut short when I realize how much of my mana regen would be going to the stealth spells and the dead I’m keeping boosted to level five.

  My mana regen is nearing zero with all the invested magic I’m keeping up with, and I don’t like the idea of having a low magic regen. I know it’s a risk I need to take. In battle, every minute counts, and each point of regen is measured in hours. It’ll take hours to fully recover my magic, and invested magic gives me a way to use magic now.

  I’m drawn from my introspection as three elves stride through the gate, confident in their assured victory. All around them are the guards, either fleeing in fear or dead on the ground.

  I move to wreak havoc on the overconfident intruders, letting my arrow fly before it promptly embeds harmlessly in the wood. I silently curse my poor archery, and the elf's eyes trace the arrow back in my direction. Fortunately, my undead are here to distract them by sprinting toward the group. The elves at the gate seem perplexed to see their own running to them. The lead elf even calls out in greeting.

  They are too slow to realize the threat before them. The elf nearest the gate is in shock when his two companions are impaled by elven blades. I grin, thinking this is my chance to turn the tide of the battle, but my excitement is cut short as additional elves pour through the gate portcullis, quickly cutting down the undead.

  While my undead minions are the perfect distraction, distracting even me. I’m almost so taken in by the battle that I wait long enough that I should move to cover. I sneak out of sight, focusing on obfuscate and fade, hoping to tease every bit I can, as I curl up behind a house to reduce the chances of being seen.

  With tensions high, I can feel the elves' heightened emotions with greater clarity through my natural empathy. I can feel it so clearly, I can even tell when an arrow slams into one of the elves, killing him. I sigh in relief, knowing the elves will focus on whatever madman decided to take on an entire squad of elves. I use the distraction to move between the houses, trying to retreat toward the tower.

  My goal is to circle around, to fight the elves with Olivia and her group. I’m bad with a blade and worse with a bow, but my magic has been a potent weapon. With Olivia’s knights to keep the elves pinned in melee, I can focus on pulling up undead and blasting the elves with ice.

  Between the buildings, I look up to the tower to see Olivia panting on the floor but still conscious, while Benjamin takes opportunity shots at the elves. Olivia’s group is forced to retreat as the elven archers are too much. Not wanting to run into a hail of arrows, I move around the buildings to try to sneak up behind the elven lines. I travel most of the way unspotted and feel elation at how well new stealth spells are doing.

  I round a corner to see the three archers scanning the alleys between the houses. I charge, getting halfway across the distance to them, before the nearest notices me. Despite noticing me, I close the distance and cut him down before he can stick an arrow in me.

  Unfortunately, there is a fourth archer that I didn’t see until after I committed to my attack. The archer gets off a shot that thuds into the meat of my thigh. My leg crumples under my weight, and I fall on my back.

  I scramble to retreat as I feel the pain of another arrow lance into my arm. I desperately pull the body of the elf I slew a moment ago to act as a shield. The elves don’t give up, trying to angle around to get a shot off, though I notice they are reluctant to fire, trying to conserve the dwindling arrows in her quiver. With the stealth spells no longer aiding me, I release the magic before investing most of my regen to raise the elf on top of me to level 5.

  One of the elves shouts something, and two of them begin backing away, eying the tower.

  The undead on top of me smoothly draws his bow and fires an arrow into my pursuer. Too late, she realizes I have converted her former companion to an undead, and she is riddled with arrows. The two elves who were considering abandoning me to assault the tower abandon the plan to focus on me.

  They dodge around corners for cover and snipe at me. The undead on top of me is unable to aim the bow and hit the elves back. The elves turn the undead on top of me into a pincushion as I crawl across the ground to create distance. I pull the body on top of me, blocking body shots meant for me.

  After an agonizing eternity of pulling myself through the dirt, I reach a corner of a building to hide behind. Once behind the building, I break the arrow in my calf and pull it out. I scream as a sharp pain accompanies the arrow leaving my leg. I pant for a few moments before I pull on the blood in my canteen to heal myself.

  From the edge of my vision, a canteen is proffered to me. I look up to see Morgana a little worse for wear. Her body may have been porcelain-like yesterday, but a night in the woods and navigating a battle had given her a rough appearance.

  “You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” I say, accepting the canteen

  She smiles at me. Not a happy smile but an eager one. She is about to satisfy the only two desires burning within her dead heart: protecting me and killing elves.

  I do the trick I tried earlier, where I put an orb of water around one of the elven archers’ heads. Unfortunately, this time, I cannot give her the mercy of a quick death as she fires arrows until the bitter end.

  While their companion has an orb of water over their head, I shoot arrows at the other. The arrows do little but distract the elf. While I draw attention to myself, Morgana circles around and assassinates two of the archers before they know what happened. With three of them down, the last elf tries to bull rush Morgana but gets a belly full of ice daggers for his trouble.

  When the battle is over, Morgana walks over to eye the female archer I suffocated. “Can I have her body?”

  I look at the dead body of the elf Morgana currently inhabits; her body is damaged, ranging from light scratches from a night in the woods to cuts from fighting the elves. Then I look at the other bodies that are full of arrows.

  I nod as I raise the female elven archer to level 5. Interestingly, when Morgana inhabits this body, I notice she feels stronger. Was it the fact that it was a woman, or that the undead was already level 5? I also notice that there is still a drain on my mana regen, but instead of it being 50, it is only 5. Unfortunately, the other elf has too much mana invested in it. To keep it working, I will need an extravagant amount of my mana regen, so I release it.

  I pull the remaining water back into the empty canteen on my right. From the canteen on the left, most of the blood is gone. I pull out the last little bit to top off my health, though the wounds are now only superficial.

  I turn back on my two stealth spells, but with my mind sense, I can feel there are no enemies around me. I leave the spells on until I near the tower, without anyone around to hide from, I dismiss the magic.

  I walk up to find Kurt’s armor covered in dents and a few arrows piercing through the gaps in his armor to the man underneath. Though he looked rough, none of the injuries were major. He watches me as he lies on the ground, exhausted. Across from him, Benjamin was in a much worse state, but the man had already treated his wounds. He had bandaged his arrow wounds, and he sipped a ruby vial in his hand.

  When I get to the foot of the tower, I notice Lucian is knocked out on the ground, covered in blood. A quick check tells me he is still alive and breathing. Most of his wounds are superficial, but the number of cuts on his armor tells of a hard-fought battle. Kurt and Benjamin eye me wearily, too tired to say anything as I climb the ladder to Olivia. It’s clear that they couldn’t fight me even if I did intend harm.

  What I find at the top of the ladder makes me cringe. She’s pinned to the wall as she bleeds from numerous wounds. It looks like she seared a few of the wounds shut, but the blood on the floor tells a story of desperation. She has many empty vials littered around her, and her eyes flutter as her consciousness wanes.

  With feeble fingers, she moves to bring the mostly empty container to her lips. She barely recognizes that I’m in the tower as her eyes glance over me, not quite able to focus. I creep closer, worried I might scare her, and I notice her gaze is unfocused, unable to recognize me. She points her staff at me lamely, not quite getting it all the way up. I easily knocked it aside.

  I see her eyebrows scrunch at me, not even able to muster the strength to properly glare at me.

  “Hold still,” I say as I crouch at her side.

  I pulled the water out of my canteen to tend to her wounds. I start by concentrating on the wounds that are bleeding most vigorously. If the vials are healing potions, as I suspect, then I feel the best thing to do is reduce the damage being inflicted so the potions aren’t fighting an uphill battle.

  Eventually, I see some color return to her pale form, and I decide to go after the arrows pinning her to the wall. I started breaking the ends of the arrow shafts in preparation to pull her off them. With the arrows firmly embedded in the wooden frame of the tower, this will be better than trying to unpin her and then breaking the arrow.

  I start by pulling her leg off one of the arrows embedded in the floor. She cries out, grabbing me feebly, but I stoically continue to heal her. I feel a spike of alarm from Morgana. It is an alarm warning of potential danger, but it passes just as quickly.

  I continue to work until the last of the water soaks into her. I look over to see two arrows still pinning her to the wall. The wounds seem relatively stable, and the healing potions have repaired the bulk of the damage from the arrow wounds I pulled the shafts from. My mana is close to bottoming out, but I turn to look for more water when I see Benjamin and Morgana staring each other down.

  I raise an eyebrow, projecting confusion over the bond. My exhausted mind isn’t quite able to decipher the situation. Fortunately, Morgana clarifies the standoff.

  ‘He was going to shoot you when she cried out.’ Morgana sends across our link.

  Kurt has an arrow nocked too, but he looks far more relaxed, the arrowhead pointing at the floor of the tower.

  “You’re a healer?” Kurt asks with an eyebrow raised. “And a dead caller?”

  “Yes…” I say a bit wearily. I’m not sure what a dead caller is, maybe a necromancer? Whatever it is, I will need to talk to Kurt about it later.

  “Why didn’t you mention this last night?” I hear him ask with the heat of accusation.

  “I’m not doing this right now.” I shake my head, too tired to argue.

  Benjamin’s face turns into a silent snarl, but I cut him off.

  “I need more water if I’m going to finish healing her.” I punctuate by pointing to the barely conscious woman pinned to the wall.

  Benjamin continues to stare at me, too scared and angry to leave, but I refuse to budge. I point at him as I command, “Go get it.”

  “Send your corpse to get more.” He spits back to me. Exhausted as I am, I barely have the strength to focus on my empathy, but his emotions are strong enough that I feel distrust radiating from him.

  “Ok, first I don’t know where to send her, and second, go do it before your lady starts bleeding out again.”

  Just as the situation is about to devolve into a shouting match, a jug of water lands at my feet. We both look over to see Kurt slowly hauling himself over the ladder, off to get more water.

  Before he disappears over the lip, he answers my confusion at the jug of water, “I saw what you were doing and grabbed some more water just in case.”

  I nod in thanks, grab the clay jug, and move to the next arrow. There’s one in her right arm and another in her left shoulder. I take care of the shoulder wound first since it’ll be more serious of the two.

  She cries out again when I touch it to break the shaft. All the pain finally overwhelms her, which is a small blessing, allowing me to pull the arrow out of her without risking her jerking and causing more damage. I gently apply meager healing through magic, milking the last remaining points of mana.

  As I heal the shoulder, I notice the effects of the health potion slowing; the wounds no longer heal preternaturally fast. Despite the slowing rate, the bleeding slows, and I use my magic until it looks like a raw ulcer, instead of the gaping wound it was moments ago. I pull the meager water remaining after healing her into my canteen and slump down exhausted.

  “That wound isn’t closed, and she still has one more arrow.” I hear Benjamin say somewhere between an order and an accusation. The wound itself is raw, but it’s a surface wound.

  “I am tapped out of mana. I need to rest.” I say, not moving from my spot, even to square up to him. Benjamin looks pensive as his eyes flick between the empty potion vials on the ground and Olivia.

  “She’s already had too many; we can’t give her another healing potion. I wouldn’t be surprised to find she already has minor health potion poisoning.” Kurt says as he climbs back up the ladder with a bundle of water skins across his chest. I sense Kurt is also suspicious of me, but not in the raw biting way Benjamin is. His suspicion verges on curiosity; he wavers back and forth, trusting me to help her but keeping his guard up because of how important Olivia is to him.

  In the end, Kurt and Benjamin cut the arrowhead off at one end and wrap the arrow into place with cloth. I could’ve started to heal the arrow wound, but a massive wound in her arm would have caused all types of complications. I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to fully treat a wound of that size. Not to mention that my water is limited, so if a bleed went on for too long, I would Kurt to go fight the town for some of their dwindling supply of potable water.

  Eventually, the ranger slips down the back of the tower and calls the guard to help him carry the young noblewoman. A few minutes later, a stretcher carries her away. I lie there recovering and watching the entire scene play out. Only once they’re gone do I check my status.

  I save the skill points but allocate my attribute points. I put two into intelligence, four into wisdom, and four into charisma. After the battle, I want a sizable increase in mana regen and spell power to assist all my investment spells and my new stealth spell forms. I also want to start investing in charisma.

  If wisdom increases my mana, and intelligence increases my mana pool, then charisma should increase the power of my magic. My goal is to increase the effectiveness of my mind magic. I also wouldn’t mind the side effect of being more likable. I have gotten off on the wrong foot with everyone I met, even the people I went out of my way to help!

  If my increased Charisma makes people less rude, that will be a major win. I know my base charisma is below average; even with rewards, it was my lowest stat. Time to pump those numbers up!

  I stare at the stat changes for a few minutes before drifting into sleep.