42

There is a sickening crack as bone and tissue give beneath the blow. Zhan-Ukhel sinks to his knees before you, his eyes wide with surprise and outrage. He tries to speak. Then blood bubbles from his mouth, his fingers relax on his blade, and he topples sideways to the ground.

The death of their leader causes the Black Wolves to hesitate, and your warriors push forward, cutting several of them down before the rest turn and flee from the cavern. Although you know they'll soon be back, you've earned a brief respite.

You sheathe your sword and look around for Drazha, only to see her lying on the cavern floor next to the prostrate form of the Black Wolf warrior she was fighting. As you rush over, you see the dark, damp patch on Drazha's side, and the flecks of blood around her mouth. "Not as quick as I thought I was," she wheezes. "I'm sorry, Basileios."

"Don't be sorry," you say. "Don't say anything. We can still get you out of here, you'll see."

"Not this time," she replies. "I just never thought I'd die so far from home." She draws a long, shuddering breath, and you sweep your cloak from your shoulders and place it over her.

"I'm glad I'm not alone," she continues. "Just promise me, Basileios, that you'll remember me. That's how we live forever."