Chapter 203: Sixty Seconds

For a moment, nobody reacted at all.

They simply looked at him.

As if he had spoken in a language none of them understood.

Then Zuri laughed. It was a short, sharp sound, completely without humor.

"No," she said.

"Zuri-"

"No." She stepped in front of him. "Absolutely not. Are you insane? You’re an Ascendant. You have one Star. You can barely hold a sword."

"I know."

"Then what are you talking about?"

Gareth had moved to stand beside her. His face was hard.

"Young master, this is not a time for jokes," he said.

"Besides, the Duke has given me one order. Keep my son alive no matter what. No matter what." He did not raise his voice. "I will not let you walk onto that bridge."

"You’ll have to," Encrid said.

"I’ll carry you across myself if I have to."

"Sir Gareth."

Encrid looked at him steadily.

"I am not doing this because I want to die. I’m doing it because I’m the only one here who can do it and come back."

Silence.

Ysolde was staring at him.

"You can’t hold that bridge for even a second," she said. "I’ve fought you. I know exactly what you can do. You’d be dead before the first Reever reached you."

"The Encrid you fought, yes."

"What does that mean?"

Encrid did not answer right away.

He could not tell them.

He could not tell them about the system, or the windows, or the tokens sitting in his inventory. He could not tell them about the Temporary Realm Limit Breakthrough Token that he had earned for helping five people open their Stars, or the Temporary Proficiency Token the system had given him on his birthday, like a joke.

He had kept both of them for a year and a half.

He had never used either of them.

He had kept them for this. Not for this bridge, not for this horde. He had not known what it would be. He had only known that one day, something would come that he could not survive with his own strength. And on that day, he would need to be someone else for one minute.

"For one minute," Encrid said carefully, "I can be stronger than anyone on this rise."

Nobody said anything.

"I can’t tell you how. I’m not going to try. But I can do it. And when the minute is over, I’ll still be standing."

He hoped that was true.

? ? ?

The Grand Magus had not said anything.

He had been watching Encrid the entire time, leaning on his walking stick. His sharp old eyes had not left his face.

Now he spoke.

"You’re not lying," he said.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"I can tell when people lie," the old man said. "It’s one of the few useful things you pick up after living this long." He looked at Encrid for another moment. "You believe what you’re saying. And you’re not a fool - so it must be true, after all."

He paused.

"There’s something on you," he said. "Something I can’t see clearly. Something that doesn’t belong to this world."

Encrid felt a chill go down his spine.

The old man looked at him for a long moment more.

Then he shrugged.

"Well. It’s your life." He looked at Zuri and Gareth. "If he says he can hold it for a minute, he can hold it for a minute. Or he can’t, and he dies, and the Span falls anyway. Either way, you lose less than if the young woman goes."

"He’s my brother," Zuri said.

"Yes," the Grand Magus said. "I figured."

The window appeared..

[ ? ? ? Emergency Quest ? ? ? ]

[ The last road south must be closed. The Grand Magus of the Eight Stars requires one minute. Give him the time he needs. ]

[ Objective: Hold the northern end of the Darwen Span alone for sixty seconds. ]

[ Reward: ?????? / Narrative Relevance increase ]

[ Failure: Death of the host. The horde crosses the Riven. ]

Encrid read it once.

The failure condition was as terrible as he had expected it to be.

Death of the host.

He had known that. It was still strange to see it written down.

He closed the window.

? ? ?

Zuri did not argue again.

She stood in front of him for a long moment with her jaw clenched and her eyes wet. Then she grabbed the front of his coat, the same way she had on the road that morning, and pulled him against her.

"If you die," she said into his shoulder, "I will never forgive you."

"I know."

"I mean it."

"I know you do."

She let go of him. She stepped back. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and did not look at him again.

Gareth had not moved.

"Sir Gareth," Encrid said.

"Young master."

"When you see my father again, tell him I ordered you to let me go. Tell him you argued with me. Tell him I wouldn’t listen." Encrid paused. "Tell him it wasn’t your fault."

Gareth’s face did not change.

But something in his eyes did.

"I will tell him," he said slowly, "that his son was the bravest man on the Riven."

Encrid did not know what to say to that.

So he turned to Gus.

The boy had come up the rise at some point during the argument. He had not said a word. He was standing a few paces away, his hands clenched at his sides, the white-gold fire of Ember Veil flickering around his knuckles.

"Gus," Encrid said.

He reached into his coat and took out the things he had been carrying. The folded paper with the nine names. Ellis Cavel’s list. Arthur’s letter, with its careful, crooked handwriting.

And the small blue-glass lamp from the Lampwrights’ Hall.

He held them out.

Gus looked at them. He did not take them.

"Young master-"

"Hold these for me," Encrid said. "I’ll want them back."

Gus looked at him for a long, long moment.

Then he took them.

His hands were shaking.

Encrid turned around and looked at the Span.

On the northern end, Merta was walking onto the bridge. She was the last. She had the evacuation order folded under her arm, and as she passed the northern end, she stopped and looked back at Encrid.

She raised her hand.

A fist.

Zero.

Everyone was across.

? ? ?