Rebellion - 11 (Patreon)

"A little higher, if ye don't mind." Commander Smith asked politely, and I obliged by spurring the tree-formed emplacement we were standing on to grow just a fraction taller. "Thank you kindly, good sight lines all the way to the bend – I'll set the lads to bracing the lot with earthworks right away."

Nodding to the commander I held back a sigh of relief, waiting for him to start down the wall and give orders before stretching. It didn't really help per se, magical exhaustion having little to do with my muscles.

But it still felt good.

As I took my well-earned break, deciding to lean against the walls of my – our flash-grown fortress, all around people were hard at work finishing up what I'd started. Most of the dirt for the wall's backing was coming from a makeshift moat, with water diverted from the adjacent river to fill it. I could see more permanent latrines, powder bunkers, a sheltered mess, cannons being lifted to their emplacements.

By tomorrow Commander Smith was sure to start with ranging shots, preempting an assault and giving us an advantage in the inevitable artillery battery.

After that... it wouldn't be long until Godfrey arrived. If Lorna had stuck around longer than a single night it would've been much easier to keep tabs on them. It'd be easy enough for me to go up and find his army – more than three thousand men weren't exactly subtle – but offering that information...

I could just tell them I divined it, couldn't I? I didn't have anything with enough of a connection to Godfrey to do it reasonably, but that didn't mean anyone else knew that.

Not that realising that stopped me wishing Lorna was still here, and not just because she'd be a massive help in the coming battle. No, looking back on the question she'd asked me, the way she forced the topic to change and distracted me, didn't sit quite right.

Lorna wasn't afraid of discussing difficult topics with me, let alone with Vivi. She wasn't alone in the guilt for bringing Calia to Gilneas, she knew full well we wouldn't judge her for what she felt, so why?

Musing over those thoughts, coming to no real conclusion, kept me occupied for some time. If I remembered when I saw her next, I might ask her.

On the whole, though, I trusted Lorna to do the right thing. So long as it didn't involve trusting Prince Liam with my secrets or teasing me to the point I felt like a kettle, anyway. What she'd done at the wall still stung – though it was likely part of why he'd been willing to cover for us.

A horn blew, startling me upright. Scanning the horizon for one moment I worried we'd misjudged how much time we would have for Godfrey's arrival, cursing myself for not scouting the moment I was done.

But the banner was coming up the road behind us – from within Godfrey's lands, and it wasn't that of a noble house. A golden cross impressed upon a red banner, the symbol Celestine had chosen for the neutral healers, was approaching.

"Lady Arevin!" Came a cry from below. "Lady Arevin, the commanders are meeting!"

"Alright then." I muttered softly. "Best go tell them what this is about; and meet whoever's here."

-oOoOo-

After I explained what the banner meant, and what the purpose of the group was, came the ride out to meet them and a discussion of what to do with them. Which inevitably led to arguments.

Mostly between me and the others.

"It should be a simple enough matter to allow them to reside within our fortifications, would it not?" Merringale said confidently. "And here they can do the most good, healing the wounded, the injured, and ensuring they live to fight another day."

"And blatantly violating any pretence of neutrality they might have." I replied bluntly.

I could easily see the utility of trying to get them to work for us – the fact we were the defenders in this situation would mean most of the combat would be on our terms, the casualties in our area of control whether they were ours or Godfrey's during an assault.

The problem, however, was that I actually gave a damn about Celestine's position, the position the priests and witches we were going to meet were in. Not so everyone else.

Isobel hummed, more questioning than dismissive. "They would be saving lives either way. And, correct me if I am wrong, but has the church not aligned itself with our cause?"

"Warren and Miller have, Walden sided with the king. The rest have–"

Merringale started chuckling. "I've heard stories about the idiot priest of the hills! No doubt he has little standing amongst his peers, much like the rest of his ash-snuffing family!"

His joke entirely failed to land; not just because Isolde and her escorts were all from the Ember Hills, and thus theoretically subordinate to the Waldens and amongst the 'ash snuffers', but because we'd gotten within earshot of the Golden Crosses' party.

The lead priest, having heard Merringale's words, looked decidedly unamused as he stared at the young lord. "Bishop Walden is a respected healer and known to be blessed by the Light. Only the late Archbishop Tulvan, may he rest in the grace of the Light, was his equal in magic amongst the bishop's council."

At the very least Merringale had the good grace to be embarrassed and didn't make a further fool of himself. He did enough of that already by spending all his time trying to talk with Vivi.

One would think all the gossip about us would give him a hint, but no. It didn't. Just like Vivi avoiding him – like she was doing now – didn't.

"Gwyneth Arevin, Witch of the Order of Amber and Northgate Rebellion." I introduced myself, smiling slightly as I recognised two of the priest's entourage. "With me are Lord Merringale, overall commander of our forces under Lady Tulvan, and Lady Mistmantle. Might I know your name and those of your companions?"

Allowing his eyes to drift away from Meringale, the priest dipped his head. "Brother Samuel of the Church of Dawn. With me are Acolytes Jasmine and Fred, as well as Witches Rachel and Adrian of the Order of Amber."

"Hiya, Gwen." Rachel waved. "Don't know how to be all fancy about this, but we're here to heal folks. Not fight."

Broth Samuel's lips quirked in amusement. "Quite. Word of the fighting in this region has spread and we are here to offer succour to those in need. Be that those wounded in battle or preyed upon by a passing army."

"Is there no way we can convince you to aid our cause?" Isobel asked plainly. "You must know what Genn has done."

"No." He shook his head in answer. "Our duty is to care for the people of Gilneas, to see that they are tended to even while those who ought to protect them wage war, and that we will do. I ask that you do not make our task more difficult than it need be, noble lady."

Merringale cleared his throat, trying to regain some control rather than ceding it to myself and Isolde. "You are welcome to offer your healing to all we face in battle, of course. Space will be set aside for you within our fortification–"

"We decline."

"Helped Gwen put up a tree house before, just a couple, but I did." Rachel said proudly. "Figure I can make us a spot of our own like your fort for healing."

Beside her, Adrian nudged her.

"With help, 'course."

There was still something of a way to turn this to our advantage, assuming that Godfrey paid any heed to their neutrality. And, well, if he didn't... that'd push them towards us. I might not much like the idea of forcing them, but if it was Godfrey doing it? Not our fault, and a different advantage altogether.

"There's a hill with a small copse near the road Godfrey will be marching down," I told them, "a good position for you to situate yourselves in Clearly apart yet near enough to do your work. Also enough trees to get started with, Rachel."

Rachel perked up immediately, her expression thankful for the suggestion. But Samuel clearly was more aware of what I intended. Still, after a moment he inclined his head. Denying Godfrey the hill wasn't exactly the biggest win possible, but we paid nothing to obtain it.

Merringale wasn't terribly happy with the result, but it was more than enough for me and Isolde.

-oOoOo-

"And there they are, just as you said." Howard noted, his eyes shaded from the high noon sun, as the first men of Godfrey's army came into sight. Outriders only, so far, but the main column wasn't far behind; half a day at most based on the last time I scouted. "Should we deal with them?"

I shrugged noncommittally, we were distinctly lacking in cavalry and they'd have miles to work with besides. Merringale, on the other hand, had other ideas.

"Gordon! See that they are seen off; a single volley will be sufficient I'm sure." He ordered Commander Smith loudly.

He'd been griping and distressing over me and Isolde undermining his command in regards to the Golden Cross since they were established, and it didn't seem likely to stop anytime soon. Hell, despite Caleb admitting Isolde was the more strategically minded of the siblings, he'd pushed her out of the command tent in favour of her brother.

The only reason he had the command of this force was his and his men's knowledge of the Esting Woods which had made our passage faster. That, and he was a dale lord, and Tulvan was more than a little blatant in her biases.

At least the old bint was competent.

Despite my misgivings, and the consternation I could see on the commander's face, the cannons soon roared and spat their fury at the riders. Balls of iron left impotent gouges in the ground, coming well short of being any threat to them... but I couldn't help but notice it was well within our range.

Keeping my smile to myself I silently congratulated Commander Smith for choosing to not give away the limits of our range at this juncture; we'd gone out to recover the ammunition and clear the divots from past shots for the same purpose.

"Well, that was thoroughly pointless." I said instead as the riders turned and fled back up the road to warn Godfrey of what was in his path. "Give everyone a good–"

"Lady Mistmantle, see that the men are given a hearty meal before the coming battle." Merringale spoke over me. "No doubt the rest of them will be here before dusk and the men need full bellies before their mettle is tested."

Well, whatever. So long as it was getting done.

Deciding to take my leave, I headed down to find Vivi and get some alone time in with her before everything went to hell, as it was sure to do.

-oOoOo-

Godfrey didn't try anything the first day, taking the evening to set up his camp at the base of the ridge and beside the river. I personally wanted to get close and do what I'd done to Lord Permont, although perhaps more fiercely in order to even the odds we faced, but the command council vetoed it.

Howard and Commander Smith out of concern for my safety, the extensive watch Godfrey had posted too much for them to condone risking our side's healer and magical support. Caleb simply because he didn't believe I could get close enough – a flaw of my transformations being unknown – and Merringale... if I had to guess, he didn't want me getting all the glory.

I tried getting close anyway, if for no reason other than to get a measure for their numbers, but quickly discovered there was merit to Howard and Smith's concerns.

For one reason or another, and I suspected spite over a pragmatic desire to remove scouts or messengers, Godfrey had his men ordered to shoot down any ravens that approached his camp. At all. I might have made it out unscathed thanks to being a small target in the dark, but they sure as hell tried to kill me.

Strong as I might be, I couldn't direct magic from a mile away. A hundred yards easily enough, two hundred with proper preparation – as I'd used against Carnam Castle and Lord Permont – but beyond that? If cared little for accuracy... half again as much. Maybe.

But I rather doubted I'd ever manage to direct spells a full mile away. Not without a full-blown ritual that involved multiple casters to balloon and multiply our powers; I could walk along fields and regrow miles over the course of an hour, sprout an entire forest in my wake, but what I'd done outside Gilneas to lead Genn into accepting the order's help openly had required a lot of preparation and coordination.

Which left Godfrey's camp frustratingly unharassed come morning and us simply waiting for him to make the first move. Or, as the case may be, for the Golden Cross to do so, as one of their acolytes approached under the white flag of parley.

"Sister, iffin you don't mind the commanders want you to repeat the good priest's message." One of the soldiers who had escorted her inside asked as she came before us.

Surrounded on all sides by onlookers and under intense scrutiny, the woman – Jasmine, I remembered her name – looked a little rattled, but nodded firmly. "Brother Samuel asks that, before the beginnings of hostilities, both sides meet under the auspices of the Church of Dawn and Order of Amber to discuss the terms of battle." She said, somewhat rushed but still clear. "While there is little hope that blood shall not be spilled this day, it behoves us to seek a resolution to this conflict between brothers and sisters. And if, impossible, terms under which the Golden Cross may perform its work."

Rehearsed or not, I had to give her some measure of respect for getting it all out without stumbling. I'd dock points for the way she sagged in relief at the finish, though.

"What do you think?" Isolde asked Howard, but he responded slower than another.

"It is obvious, is it not." Merringale declared in immediate answer. "Our purpose here is to delay Godfrey's forces until Our Lady of the Dales arrives. If that is done in battle or in talks, it makes little difference. Convey our respect to Brother Samuel, and inform him that we will arrive promptly."

Sighing in relief, Sister Jasmine inclined her head. "Of course, Lord Merringale. Um. I should also say that Brother Samuel wishes for the party to be small, no more than three guards and three lords or ladies..." Her eyes flicked to me. "Or witches. At the turn of noon."

After a few more words of agreement, and pleasantries dispensed with, the acolyte took her leave.

The moment she was gone, leaving only the command staff present, Howard turned on Merringale with narrowed eyes. "We should have taken time to discuss matters. You have committed us to this course alone, Lord Merringale."

"There was no other clear choice." He waved Howard off. "Don't you agree, Caleb?"

Caleb glanced at Isolde, who was firmly on her husband's side, before nodding the barest inch. "If we are able to drag negotiations out an entire day it is a worthwhile endeavour."

"That is beside the point!" Howard snapped. "You have the command, Lord Merringale, but this force is not yours alone."

"He may have overstepped himself, but the choice has been made." I interrupted Merringale before he could retort further; I wasn't interested in listening to more of their whining. "I volunteer to be part of those attending negotiations – I am most aware of the Golden Cross' purpose and intent amongst us."

Not that that was why I wanted to go. No, there was a distinct part of me that wanted to see Godfrey's arrogant face fall when he realised he was stuck and wouldn't easily break past us to safety.

Was I still holding a grudge over what he did to my home? Yes. Yes I was.

I was perfectly capable of being petty.

It just wasn't something I was particularly proud of or willing to let happen all the damn time, like some people. For Godfrey I could make an exception; and anyway, we were at war, it's not like I cared about his feelings on the matter.

"The party should consist of those of us with rank. Lords Merrowfall, Mistmantle, and myself." Merringale said imperiously. "And Lady Vivianne to guard us, of course."

Howard snorted and shook his head. "No. I will remain behind to ensure our defence is readied along with my sister."

Rather than saying anything I simply looked up at Merringale; he wasn't terribly impressed nor intimidated, despite knowing the extent of my abilities he didn't seem to look past my stature. Still, it got the point across enough, and the matter was settled with minimal bickering.

Only an hour all told. Tulvan really should have put someone more mature in charge of us all – the only one here over thirty was Commander Smith and he had the good sense to stay out of things save when tactics mattered.

-oOoOo-

"You should be glad I care for the honour of the church, witch." Godfrey said as he stared down at me through his monocle, one hand resting at his belt atop an ornate cane rather than the pistols he had kept there at the wall. Weapons had been surrendered before we were allowed into the tent – something rather to my benefit, I had to feel. "It is the only reason I offer you this single chance to take your measly forces and depart so that I may stop the privation Crowley is inflicting upon my lands."

Merringale cleared his throat. "Lord Godfrey, you will find that I am the commander of Lady Tulvan's forces here. And we shall not grant you passage, to do so would be a betrayal of my oaths."

"Your oaths?" Godfrey scoffed without giving him a second glance. "Worthless. Perhaps as worthless as this thought of a Golden Cross to heal the rebel scum that bar my path." Finally looking away from me, and letting me blink, he turned to Brother Samuel and gestured with his cane. "You may not be traitors yet priest, but by not siding with the king you court treason."

"Is that a declaration that you will not respect their neutrality?" I queried with a smile before Brother Samuel could reply. "If so, we would gladly grant them the protection of our fort as initially offered. Of course, your men would still receive their aid."

Godfrey clicked his tongue. "No. I will not interfere with the work of the church regardless of who they wish to heal."

A fraction of the tension in the air eased. But only a fraction. Godfrey's two aides, neither man I recognised, stood impassively with their gaze fixed on me even when their commander's attention waned.

For the Golden Cross, Rachel stood awkwardly beside Brother Samuel, clearly feeling out of place, while the priest had his hands folded in front of him. With a serene smile on his face, he turned to Godfrey, ready to speak, only to be interrupted by the lord continuing.

"Of course, once one is healed, they are no longer the business of the church." Godfrey said smarmily, the barest of smirks on his lips. "And my men will be ready to take any criminals into custody. Traitors to the crown and the like."

There was a moment of silence as his words settled in.

"Absurd!" Merringale burst out furiously. "You would make a mockery of neutrality!"

"Indeed." Brother Samuel said far more neutrally. "I cannot say I am pleased by such a manipulation, Lord Godfrey."

"Personally, I find myself unsurprised." I crossed my arms under my chest and frowned. "Any care for the honour of the church or not, what else could one expect from a man who gleefully slaughtered the innocent rather than save them from a fate worse than death?"

Caleb placed a warning hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it off. This was who Godfrey was and it wasn't a surprise.

I wasn't getting what I wanted here. Too cocksure, too arrogant, too... smug.

And frustratingly, I couldn't pretend it wasn't warranted. We'd picked our defensive position and it was not able to project power onto the hill I'd asked the Golden Cross to take. Not in a manner that would let us stop what he threatened.

Of course, being on the defensive meant that most of the casualties would be with us anyway, within or adjacent to our fort, and we had a healer in me...

But it was denying us resources and claiming them for himself. Entirely one-sided. Sodding Godfrey.

"The girl responsible for bringing the demon down upon our heads can hardly lecture me on slaughtering the innocent. More lives lay at your feet than mine, witch." Godfrey sneered back.

Rachel glowered at him. "Now that ain't–"

"As to this supposed neutrality of the church," he bowled over her and drowned out her words, "would that be the same church who at this time incites rebellion across the Headlands? Or perhaps the church which preaches the downfall of the king?" He let out a short bark of laughter, one of his aides mimicking him. "Had Bishop Walden not held true, there would be no honour to respect."

"I must take offence at that statement," Brother Samuel spoke up more firmly, "Bishops Warren and Miller have turned against the crown, yes–"

"And so you admit it."

"–but Bishop Frey did not, nor did Bishop Rowan, and it is their example I follow."

"If this is the respect the crown wishes to show the church, mayhaps you will reconsider your position." Merringale offered leadingly before looking to Rachel. "Or you, witch, will you not aid your fellow?

"I don't–"

"Rachel has chosen to follow Celestine's edict and that is–" I spoke up for my acquaintance-maybe-friend as things devolved into a mess of arguing.

It went nowhere; Godfrey entirely unwilling to budge from his initial position, and no concessions on our part that we were willing to grant. If the purpose of these talks wasn't for us to waste time, it would be a waste of time.

Refreshments were brought, drained, and brought again. Midday fell into the distant past as the waning sun of early evening took hold.

"We are agreed, then, that the Golden Cross may pick the field of injured each dawn and dusk?" Brother Samuel asked as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "And those injured cannot be taken from our care until they are able to move freely and without injury to themselves or others?"

"Yes." I said immediately.

His intent on keeping people too injured to be taken away while still saving their lives was plain enough to me even if it wasn't for Caleb or Merringale.

"Yes, agreed." Godfrey grunted. "If it will end this farce of a meeting at last. Are you satisfied, priest?"

"Sufficiently." He replied exhaustedly. "Now, with your leave, I have many preparations to make so that this battle does not become a tragedy remembered throughout the ages." Bowing slightly, and not offering a formal farewell, he departed with Rachel.

Managing a bright smile, somehow still enjoying the arguments, Merringale adjusted his coat jacket. "With the matters of the church dealt with, we can begin discussing the terms of battle, which articles of war we might follow, a method of prison exchange should we come to possess them and, of course, the forfeit for those that breach–"

Looking thoroughly exasperated Godfrey slapped his cane into his hand once, twice, and a third time.

It was annoying to feel some degree of–

My skin stood on edge and my teeth buzzed as I felt a buildup of Arcane magic, dodging to the side without even pausing to think. Caleb turned to look at me puzzledly for a brief moment before being blasted backward alongside Merringale, crashing into the canvas of the tent.

"Honourless coward!" Merringale roared from the tangle he was in. "Trucebreaker!"

"I accepted the parley of the Church of Dawn, not rebels." Godfrey replied easily. "I did inform you that it was only the care I hold for the honour of the church that allowed me to make you my offer."

He was talking, distracted, and if he was going to play that card then I was free to do so as well, the arrogant bastard. The grasses beneath us surged and–

A surge of Arcane rushed through me, the Life magic I'd been forming obliterated and torn apart by its passage and leaving tattered shreds in its wake. My head thrummed with the horrible echo of what remained of my spell.

It was enough to make me nauseous and I hated it.

Scrambling to my feet I ignored the tangled mess the counterspell had made of my connection Life and drew upon the Astral and shot a lance which pierced the mage's side in retaliation. If they wouldn't let me captured then so be it.

"Can't be having that." The first mage said, completing a series of gestures and thrusting a palm at me. "There. Nethers, the archmage wasn't kidding when he talked about her Mana Sight."

Staring up at the too tall, much too tall canopy of the tent, the too-large mages and arrogant lord looming over me, I bleated confusedly.

Then bleated again, hearing the sound I made.

I'd been polymorphed. Letting out a furious bleat I looked at Caleb and Merringale, who were being held at halberd point by – that was a Loken damned Royal Guard. Where was Vivi?! Were there more of them?!

No, she could– I needed to handle myself–

Lifted off the ground my attempt to get outside, and remain in place to fight back, was aborted. "Always remarkably cuddly, these sheep." The mage said as he held me to his chest. "One prisoner witch, as ordered Godfrey."

"Will the shackles hold as she transforms?"

"Of course! Well, they'll dispel the enchantment first thing–"

"That was all I needed to know." Godfrey interrupted him and walked closer, a great sneer forming on his face as his monocle shined mockingly. "I wonder, witch, if you can even understand me, but I shall ask regardless. Was this what you saw when you claimed that I don't matter? Was the end of your life so meaningless you would disregard it?"

I needed to get away. I needed to get Vivi and get away. They were prepared for this, Godfrey had known I was here – the fort? My handiwork? Speaking with the Golden Cross? Not that it mattered – and planned how to deal with me.

Counterspells because I was too strong with magic.

Polymorph to trap me longer.

A shackle that burned enchantments. Mana suppressant? They had to exist, else mages could never be prisoners.

But if they thought I was out of tricks, they were sorely mistaken. Writhing and struggling in the mage's grip, I angled myself as best I could, then, pulling on the spark of essence welded to my very soul, I changed. Gone was a flailing and inelegant sheep.

In its place, a feral fox with fangs and claws scrabbling up the mage's chest to reach his neck – and sinking my teeth in deep I tasted hot coppery blood.

I felt a brief flash of disgust clash with joy rush through me at the taste, the kill, and tore away.

Kicking off of the mage's falling body I leapt at Godfrey, only to find he hadn't disarmed himself. My amber eyes met his narrowed grey as his pistol barked and a bullet lodged in my chest.

"Light take you, beast!" He roared as I tumbled to the ground, shifting back into a human and beginning the work of healing the hole in my chest.

It hurt to breathe; I didn't have the time to dig it out, so I was gonna have a bullet in my chest until I got to a surgeon…

Running was going to be bloody agony.

The royal guard moved from where he was pinning the two lords, only for Caleb to latch onto his arm – it was hardly effective, and earned him an elbow to the face, but it held him down.

Godfrey's pistol was smoking. Unloaded. I could take him, the royal guard, whoever Vivi was fighting outside to create the sound of so much clashing steel...

If it wasn't for the mage, watching me carefully with Arcane magic buzzing sharply enough to make my teeth tingle.

"You didn't matter Godfrey," I spat out a globule of blood; bloody bullet was still in my chest, "because when you betrayed your king, betrayed your country, all to buy amnesty from the undead, and it failed you took the cheap way out. Throwing yourself off a cliff like a coward unable to face the consequences of your actions."

He started to chuckle. "Mad. Utterly mad. What reason that archmage had to believe you I will never understand. Alan?"

"A moment, Lord Godfrey." The royal guard replied, finishing his beat down of Caleb. "Surrender now and I swear that you will be taken, unharmed, to his majesty to face fair judgement." He offered.

I snorted, the hole in my chest closed around the bullet, and shifted painfully into a fox again. I felt the Arcane wash over me, trying to interrupt the transformation... but it was too deeply internal for his magic to reach, unable to push past my own magic to interfere. More fool him – a moment later a pair of illusionary copies sprinted in different directions, one for the forest, and the other for the fort.

"Damn you! Fred, get that witch!" Godfrey snapped harshly, the mage hesitating before throwing a bolt of frost.

In truth, I ran for Vivi; the spell missed, and I slipped out underneath the tent. Seeing her beset by two more damnable Royal Guards, being continuously pushed back and hemmed in, I knew we had to run.

We weren't winning this fight in the position we were in.

Shrieking loudly to catch her attention I started to run, loping along as quickly as I could and praying she would follow.

"Gwen! Oh, for– get away from me!" She yelled, a burst of wind following a moment later. The rushing gale blew past me with unfitting joy, uplifting and pushing at my back. "Don't wait for me!"

Riders were coming from Godfrey's army, the royal guard were pursuing despite the momentary disruption Vivi had forced upon them, and we weren't moving fast enough. Dreading it I reached into myself again, tugging on the dimming of day and the ending of light.

The pain in my chest redoubled, the size of the bullet remaining the same as it stayed lodged in my now far smaller frame. Cawing desperately, I flapped my way into the air and banked for the river.

Vivi followed my turn, the distance between her and her pursuer closing moment by moment.

I could stop flying, turn back into a human, stop hurting so much, land, and save her. Stop the royal guard in his tracks. The mage was too far away to stop me now, wasn't he? But if I didn't, if my spells didn't work, they would catch up.

It didn't matter if they got to melee, Vivi would be there, that was the whole reason–

Cannons roared and, in a single bloody moment, my choice was rendered moot. The leading guard had his chest taken entirely by a cannonball passing through him.

The scant moment of hesitation that brought to the second guard was enough to see us away. I glided over the river towards the safety of the far bank and Vivi, demonstrating her grace, ran across the water’s surface with scarcely a ripple.