Garinor found himself floating in the air, looking down upon a strange scene. He saw Urleon in one heap, while Song was bent over another body in a second heap. As he wondered why he was up in the air, he realized that Song was huddled over his own body. It was surreal and he wasn’t sure he understood what was happening. He had sampled some of the ale at the outpost, but this was too real for it to be a hallucination.
He drifted down and saw that Urleon was dead and that Song was sobbing heartily. Garinor swept closer and saw a dagger sticking out of his own chest. He wondered why he was able to see himself lying there in death with his friend mourning him painfully. But before he could dwell on it, he noticed that his thigh was on fire.
At least, it felt like fire. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the bloodstone he had obtained days before. Its heat was magnified and he couldn’t understand why it wasn’t also glowing. As he held the rock in his hand, he saw dust drifting away from it in tiny sheets, and as it did so, he felt a strange tugging sensation in his heart. He was being pulled back toward his body little by little.
It wasn’t a rough sort of tug, but an oddly rhythmic one. He likened it to the sway and flow of a richly emotional song and as he looked down at his friend he understood why. Song’s tear-strewn face was staring at Garinor’s lifeless body and he was singing a requiem for his passing. Garinor felt his very soul caught up in that emotion and he drifted down in time with the beautiful music until he was looking up at Song again and in his hand the stone had vanished altogether.
Garinor felt a strange tension in his chest where the dagger had been, understanding vaguely that the magic of the bloodstone had also removed the weapon when it healed him. He looked up into Song’s pained face and he felt honored at the deep resonance Song shared with the world around them.
“That’s beautiful,” he whispered.
“G—Garinor!” he choked. “But how?”
The boy managed an awkward smile. “Must have been your voice, my friend.”
“You scared the life out of me! How is this possible?”
Garinor smiled at Song. “I left out one part of my tale, Kihel, but I didn’t know it was important until just now.” He recounted the tale of the stone he had found and of blooding it accidentally. “I don’t know how, but it saved my life.”
Song wrapped his arms around Garinor and cradled him. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I feel a little dazed but also a bit refreshed, too. It’s strange.”
“I saw you leaving and I thought it was for a little respite, but when you didn’t come back I was worried so I followed.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“I wasn’t in time.”
Garinor shrugged. “You won’t believe me, but I’ll tell you anyway. I could hear you singing while I was dead. It felt like you called me back, or at least gave a vehicle for the stone to bring me back. So as far as I’m concerned, you really did get here in time.”
Song wiped his eyes and shook his head. “You’re an idiot,” he declared and they shared a laugh.
They returned to the outpost where the two of them locked the door and barred it with one of the beds before falling asleep, determined to keep out any other intruders. They greeted the morning cautiously and then ventured out to reconnect with the main force and Chief.
“I shouldn’t have taken you away from the others,” Song repeated all morning long.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Everything’s fine right now.”
It was late morning before they jogged to the west and approached the camp again. Song noticed that everyone was particularly tense when they arrived and it wasn’t long before he knew why. The prince’s army crested the hill and a battle was engaged moments later.
Song did not leave Garinor’s side. He protected him with renewed vigor, determined to compensate for his laxness the night before. He called out reminders to Garinor of their sparring sessions the previous day, helping the boy to defend himself as the prince’s well-trained soldiers came barreling in.
Off in the distance, Garinor saw a sight that infuriated him. There, poised on his horse in his fancy clothes, was the prince himself. He already disliked the man, but the attack on his life only hours ago filled Garinor with an unbridled rage that turned him into a reckless force. He released a feral scream and bolted away from Song, determined to exact his own justice.
Garinor’s path was not a clear one and he faced off against half a dozen of the prince’s men. Each one he cut down brutally, seeing them as another Urleon trying to trick him into complacency. His short sword bit deeply and he barely registered his actions. He parried when he could and though some attacks broke through his defenses, he plunged onward.
At last he was at the prince’s side. He slashed his sword up at the unsuspecting prince, who dodged the blow but off-balanced himself and fell. But Garinor didn’t want to cut the prince to pieces. He wanted to mangle him with his own hands. Thus he threw down his sword and leaped onto the athletic man, fists blazing in the afternoon sun.
The prince fought back and turned the brawl to his advantage, flipping Garinor over and pummeling him angrily.
Song realized belatedly that Garinor was in peril and he finished off his own battle and then made his way to the boy’s side.
Before he got there, a new cry echoed in the air. A force of nearly forty men charged into the fray and took on the contingent of Daggerfists, completely overwhelming them. Song reacted instantly. He sprinted toward Garinor and unceremoniously tossed the prince off him, grabbing the boy and practically throwing him onto the prince’s horse. He then sprang up behind Garinor and turned the horse to the north. And so it was that he saved Garinor’s life.