Silence fell on the battlefield, only to be replaced by the forest’s careless symphony of singing birds and rustling leaves. The saviours and the saved ones took a good look at each other for the first time.

The saved ones wore simple black clothes, well-worn and salt-stained, and carried heavy, broad cutlasses bearing an uncanny resemblance to butchers’ tools of the trade.

Shoving his people aside, the leader of the saved ones approached the Lifekeepers. He was a ghastly pale man; the way he was dressed suggested that he wanted to hide as much skin from the sun as possible. He wore a cloak with a tall collar; his thick gloves reached his elbows and were wrapped with extra cloth where they met the sleeves; a pair of obsidian-black glasses and a wide-brimmed hat with a broken feather completed his outfit.

Even though it was obvious that the saviours’ leader was Juel, the pale stranger looked at Orion alone and gave his thanks to him.

“Thanks for your help, guys!” he said in a voice that seemed strangely familiar to Orion. “I’m in your debt forever! If you need any help, any problem solved, just ask for Sumah – that’s me! – in any tavern of Tammar, Gurron, or a port city. I always pay my debts.”

“May I take a look at the wounded?” Bala interrupted him. In a moment, all the eyes were on his dark, lanky figure. “I’m a healer,” he explained.

“Do that,” said Juel. “Orion, let’s go check on the kids.”

“Allow me to keep you company,” Sumah unceremoniously chimed in. No one argued with him. “Meanwhile, my people will stay here and help your healer… So, what are your names, my saviours?” he asked.

“Juel Hak.”

“Orion Jovib.”

“Ah, nice to meet you,” the pale man smiled. “The worldholders’ immortal apprentice’s name! Very interesting!”

Juel shrugged. He didn’t find any of that interesting. Or amusing. He still felt like hitting Orion in the face for endangering the mission and being a reckless fool.

“I see you guys are Lifekeepers,” Sumah kept rabbiting on. “But I must admit that you’re quite good at killing people too.”

“Some lives can’t be saved. Some shouldn’t be,” Juel quoted Kangassk Abadar, his master.

“The situation was desperate,” said Orion, apologetically. “I just had no time to plan anything properly… Had I tried to spare anyone, I’d just die myself…”

“Oh yeah, fascinating philosophy,” nodded Sumah, obviously thinking of something else. “Very, very interesting indeed!”

The picture on the other side of the half-hill changed everyone’s mood in an instant: there was a battle too and that battle had ended just recently. Juel and Orion run to the site; Sumah, now grim and frowning, followed them at a steady pace.

“Anyone’s wounded?” cried Juel in that thunderous voice of his. He was still running but the question couldn’t wait.

“I am. Now what?” grumbled Lainuver. He was sitting in the middle of the road, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

Pai answered too, not with words but with a single pitiful wimper. Curled up on the road’s side, he was holding onto his slashed thigh. Had that wound been deeper, he would have been dead already, but, luckily, the wound was shallow, so it was extremely painful, yes, but not life-threatening.

Milian didn’t answer at all: he had no breath left to do that, having had suffered a blow of a battle staff to his ribs, a glancing blow, not direct, though: otherwise the ribs would have been broken.

The rest of the younger Lifekeepers looked battered too. Still, no one was dead or dying. Both Juel and Orion sighed with relief.

“Jarmin?” Orion called for the boy. “You okay?”