Hours later, I trudged back toward town, my armor feeling several times heavier than when we’d first left. The river stretched ahead, a clear blue path leading back to Starkfell, and above us, the purplish-orange sky caught my attention.

  We’d been hunting those blasted wolves longer than I’d planned. Hopefully, Clover was still awake…

  Timbur strutted beside me, a wide grin splitting his face. There wasn’t an inch of him not covered in crimson, and I sighed, glancing down at my equally splattered armor.

  I’d need to wash up before I could sleep…

  Timbur flicked a glance over me. When our gazes met, his grin faltered into a confused frown. “Oi, Freddy? Why do you look so down? We killed dozens of those mutts—it was a great night!”

  I forced a limp smile and shook my head. “Just tired, big guy. I still have to go with Clover tomorrow to clear out that dungeon and hopefully find Haltir. And I need to wash my armor before I can rest.”

  That wasn’t even getting into whether I’d actually sleep tonight. Before, I’d managed at least some rest thanks to Clover, but were we even sharing a sleeping space again? I hadn’t thought to ask if we’d be camping outside Starkfell or if she had somewhere else to stay…

  A heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder, nearly driving me to my knees. Timbur’s booming voice jolted me from my thoughts.

  “If that’s all, I can help!”

  I raised an eyebrow, turning to him, but before I could ask what he meant, he readjusted his grip—then suddenly lifted me clean off my feet.

  The bottom dropped out of my stomach.

  “What are you—”

  The words barely left my mouth before I was flying—then plunging.

  The river swallowed me in an instant.

  Icy water slammed into my skin like a thousand daggers, cutting through my clothes and armor. My lungs seized from the shock, and I lurched, the rush of sensations overwhelming.

  Frederick! My spirit’s voice rang sharp in my head, laced with fear.

  I’m alright!

  Or… I would be, once I reached the surface.

  But every movement felt sluggish, weighted down. My armor didn’t help. I pushed off the riverbed, rising a few inches—only for the heavy plate to drag me back down. The surface felt miles away, and my lungs clenched in warning.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Panic coiled tight in my chest. I shoved it aside with sheer will.

  I’d survived facing off with a dragon. I refused to die here, at the hands of a well-meaning—if dim—berserker.

  Tilting my head up, I found the blurry moons above and forced aching limbs to swim toward them. The cold carved through my muscles, gnawing at my nerves like starving beasts.

  Gritting my teeth, I pushed harder.

  I wasn’t making enough progress. My choices were clear: either cast an enhancing spell or ditch the armor.

  I tried the former first.

  Channeling mana through my veins, I cast Bolster.

  Power surged through me. My limbs burned, but this time, when I swam, I stayed off the riverbed.

  Triumph flickered through me, but I didn’t stop to celebrate. The surface was still too far.

  Every second stretched unbearably. What little oxygen I had was leaking away. Exhaustion gnawed at my bones, threatening to drag me back down.

  I couldn’t give up now—the light was so close…

  I fought through the ice seeping into my limbs, the iron grip around my lungs squeezing tighter. Inches from the surface, my arms slowed, refusing to push further.

  Then—Bolster snapped.

  My mana recoiled, lashing through me like a whip. The water seized its chance.

  I started to sink.

  Before I could slip under completely, something broke the surface—slamming into me with enough force to knock the last of my air from my lungs.

  Water surged into my nose and mouth. I gagged, thrashing in a desperate fight for breath. Something wrapped around my waist. I barely noticed.

  Darkness crawled into my vision, sinking hooks into my mind. Then—we broke the surface.

  I sucked in air, relief hitting like a truck at finally being able to do that. The water I unwillingly swallowed hacked back up, my lungs burning, every breath dragging fire through my chest.

  A hand rubbed my back. Slowly, through the roaring in my ears, I heard Timbur’s voice.

  “Shit, my bad. I thought you knew how to swim, Freddy!”

  Of course, that’s what he thought the problem was. Berserkers weren’t exactly known for their intellect.

  I shook my head, stopping when the world spun sickeningly. “I can swim,” I choked out between coughs. “Armor’s too heavy.”

  Understanding finally dawned across his face. His brows pinched. “Oh…”

  His hand kept rubbing my back, guilt creeping into his expression. “I’m sorry. Just wanted to mess with ya—didn’t think it through.”

  Just like earlier with the boy.

  Genuine distress shone in his features, and I waved him off. “I’ll be okay. Just… gimme a minute.” He nodded, settling onto his heels as I relished my ability to breathe.

  A sharp breeze cut through the night, and cold knifed into me, sharp and unrelenting. My soaked clothes clung like a second skin, sucking away what little warmth I had left. Violent shivers ripped through me, and I grimaced, trying and failing to steady my hands.

  Timbur caught sight of the tremors and frowned.

  “…Is that normal, or should I be runnin’ for Clover?”

  Well. At least he thought to ask…