Coughlin held up the flint and sparker. The figure drew back their arm, ready to throw the spear they held. “Stop,” said Coughlin. The figure did. “You are their leader,” he said. Coughlin nodded. “My people,” said Coughlin through a mouthful of blood. “They are all dead?” The figure nodded in return. “They took all my men with them, though. They fought well.” “They were good, my seaguard.” “As were mine.” The officer hunkered down a little, getting ready to throw. “Do you think you can make the spark before I can kill you?” There was no threat in the question, only curiosity. “Whether I do,
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