We all crowd into the plane, and Nils shuts the hatch above us, then hits some buttons on the console.

A screen shows us what is happening outside. Two tanks roll out from the behind the castle, flanked by dozens of soldiers.

“That must be general Olmstead,” Rikard says.

His voice is right behind me. We’re all crowded into the glider like sardines. Rikard’s strong arms are wrapped around me protectively―he literally hasn’t let me go since we were reunited.

“Princess Jane,” Karl says, “Did you see how many men were with Olmstead?”

I shake my head. “They locked me away soon after taking me in. I only ever saw one room of the castle other than the dungeon. I don’t get the impression there were too many men though.”

We watch as the tanks and soldiers from the castle move down the snowy path I was just on, heading toward the main road.

Then, we see a lone figure jump up from the snow and rush away from the road.

“Zoom in,” Rikard says.

The screen zooms in, and we see that the figure is Siegfried, still wearing a Sydian soldier’s uniform. He’s unarmed, and I realize with rising fear that he’s running straight toward us.

“He saw the plane land,” I say, “He knows we’re here.”

“He’ll lead them right to us,” Nils says.

“Maybe they’ll ignore him,” Rikard says.

As if Rikard just jinxed it, one of the tanks and six or seven soldiers break off from the main group. The soldiers jump onto the tank, and the tank accelerates down the snowy hill after Siegfried. After us.

“Dammit,” Magnus hisses, “Can’t they just put a bullet into his back and be on their way?”

“Guess they want him alive,” Rikard says.

Rikard reaches into a big bag and ruffles through it, finally bringing out what looks like a big toy Nerf gun that’s been painted black. I half expect him to pull out a bright-orange foam dart, but instead he removes a black, metallic sphere. He slots it into the barrel of the gun.

Magnus looks at it and hisses.

“Come on,” Rikard says. “You got a better idea?”

“The Wraith is made out of metal too,” Magnus says.

“We’ll be out of range,” Rikard says, stubborn cockiness filling his voice. “Open me a firing hatch.”

Nils hits a button, and a small hatch opens up. Rikard sticks the sphere and the barrel through the hatch, and with way less time aiming that I’d expect, he pulls the trigger.

The sphere blasts off the barrel so fast that I can’t even see it moving―at least not at first. Soon though, I catch sight of its black shape in the air, falling down toward the snow way behind the tank.

“You overshot,” I say. “You should have let me do it, remember how good I was on the target range?”

“Just watch,” Rikard whispers.

The sphere crashes down into the snow several hundred feet behind the tank, and nothing happens. There’s no explosion, no flash of light, nothing

“I’m watching,” I say, feeling suddenly nervous.

Siegfried is getting very close, and the tank and soldiers are not far behind him.

Then it happens. The soldiers all stop, looking down at their rifles. I see the tank’s treads keep moving, but the tank isn’t getting any closer to us. It’s as it’s running on a treadmill.

The rifles are ripped suddenly from all of the soldiers’ hands. One soldier’s rifle flies back and clips the guy behind him in the face, knocking him out cold. The rifles all fly backward like a flock of birds, and the soldiers spin around in confusion as the rifles slam together in mid-air, all racing toward the same central point: the sphere.

As soon as the rifles sink into the snow and snap onto the sphere, the tank starts to slide backward even as its treads move faster, fighting the magnetic field.

Some soldiers jump out of the tank as it accelerates backward toward the sphere. The last man out of the hatch gets ready to jump off, but he’s too late. The entire tank flips backward while he’s still on top, and the huge massive vehicle crushes him into the snow as it flies backward toward the sphere.

The tank scrapes across the snow, clearing a path of grass in its wake, until it finally slams against the sphere. The tank’s gun starts to bend backward until it snaps off and slams against the sphere, and then the entire outer hull starts to buckle inward, like a can of soda. Soon, the whole tank is crushed down into something the size of a La-Z-Boy.

Siegfried takes a few moments to stare back in disbelief, but once he realizes what’s happening, he rushes toward us.

The soldiers who were chasing him, now unarmed, turn toward each other. They seem like they are arguing about what to do: go back for their rifles, chase Siegfried, or just turn tail and run.

I don’t know if Omstead died in the tank, or if he’s one of the men standing there with the soldiers, but wherever he is, he’s lost all authority of command. Only a few soldiers continue unarmed after Siegfried, while a few others go back for their rifles. The rest of the soldiers run away, as far from the sphere as they can.

“Go!” Rikard shouts.

Nils slams a button, and the entire hatch pops open.

I watch as the four men jump out of the plane and open fire.

The soldiers chasing Siegfried go down first. I can clearly see the bullets hitting them, and their blood staining the snow.

Next, the ones heading toward the sphere dive to the ground. With no way to return fire, they simply crawl away, hoping to take cover behind the mangled tank. They all get hit soon enough, and soon none of them are crawling.

A few of the soldiers who ran are cut down, but a handful of them escape. Though I doubt they’ll come back anytime soon, even if they find new rifles.

Siegfried hit the deck as soon as the machinegun fire started, and only many seconds after the last gunshot goes off does he finally stand back up. He puts his hands up into the air, and all four men point their rifles at him.

“Come on,” Siegfried says.

“You want me to shoot?” Rikard says, “Because that’s the only context ‘come on,’ would make sense to me in.”

“Nordia needs to heal now,” Siegfried says. “If I am presumed dead in battle, it’s better than a lengthy trial. A trial would open up old wounds, keeping them fresh and preventing them from healing over…”

Rikard takes a big step closer to Siegfried, sticking the barrel of his gun right into his face. “Why should you be presumed dead?”

He puts his finger on the trigger, but then I feel the plane start to rock.

I feel the whole thing move beneath me, and my stomach drops as I remember what happened to the tank. I look down at the four men in panic.

“I told you!” Magnus shouts.

Before Rikard can even respond, the gun is ripped out of his hand by the sphere’s magnetic field.

It slams right into Siegfried’s face, and he stumbles backward a few steps before crashing down into the snow.

“Jane!” Rikard says, looking up at me.

He reaches his hands out, and I jump our of the plane and into his arms.

Over my head, I see a number of guns flying out of the plane and rushing through the air toward the sphere.

“Clear out!” Nils shouts.

Rikard carries me in his arms out of the path between the plane and the sphere, and just as we step clear, we look up and see the cloaking device on the plane malfunction. It becomes completely visible, and it shakes violently.

“Siegfried,” I whisper, pointing to him. He’s no longer face down, but he’s only on his knees, directly in the path of the plane.

His face is bloodied, and he’s pulling himself back up to his feet. He stumbles back and forth a few times as he gets a foothold, and he looks up just in time to see the plane lurching toward him.

He starts to run away from it rather than to the side. If he cut to the side, he’d immediately be run down. He’s able to keep a lead on it for a few seconds, but as the plane slides on its belly near the epicenter of the sphere’s magnetic field, it accelerates exponentially, and Siegfried falls over in the thick snow.

It’s the last we see of him. The plane runs over his body, scraping him across the ground like an ant beneath a man’s boot.

“Come on,” Rikard says, shaking his head. “We need to get out of here.”

* * *

We got back to the capital through a combination of good luck and Rikard’s wits. We joined the refugees for a while, but eventually Rikard paid off a Nordian truck driver to smuggle us into Latvia. Rikard didn’t have any money on him, so he had to make the truck driver a Nordian baron.

By the time Rikard and I made it back to the palace, the war was all but over.

It turned out that the Sydian people didn’t have much stomach for war. Sydian civilians attacked and raided the Sydian army’s supply lines, and the civilians refused to give away what little food they had to feed the front lines. Within two weeks, the Sydian army was starving and out of ammunition, and they surrendered as the frontline completely broke to a final Nordian attack.

The king accepted their surrender under one sole condition: the referendum vote had to be held immediately.

Less than 15% of Sydian voters wanted to leave the kingdom after their humiliating defeat, and the separatist leadership was all put on trial for treason.

Rikard was hailed―once again―as a war hero.