It seemed as though the showdown taking place directly above my fragile rib cage was boiling down to Azraal versus Gavsot. They seemed to be the heaviest hitters, and they were the only two who had yet to take any kind of wound. Each had a blood-dipped knife that could render the other temporarily incapacitated, each was expending as much force as possible to drive that knife into the other's flesh while keeping the other's efforts from success, and each was grunting and straining at the most extreme reaches of their strength and their endurance.
I figured, since I was just laying there uselessly and getting smushed, I might as well do something to tip the scales. I reached up, grabbed Gavsot's knife-wielding wrist, and yanked down as hard as I could. To my surprise, that helped. A lot. Gavsot's knife went through Azraal's eyeball. Azraal screamed briefly, but it faded as the bloodstained knife took effect.
General Gavsot stood and extended a hand towards me. I gripped his wrist and he fluidly slid me out from under Azraal's body and lifted me to my feet. "Good work," he said.
"Thanks," I replied. Then it occurred to me that I was supposed to be the supreme ruler around here. "Uh, you too," I added.
He nodded to his one still-conscious soldier. "Let's get him back and work the spell before he wakes up."
Gus sidled up next to me as we watched the soldiers scoop up Azraal's inert form. "So...you were in there a bit longer than we expected."
"Yeah," I said. "The perfect plan hit a snag or two."
"A snag?" Gus prompted.
I shrugged. "Or two," I answered vaguely. " Um...we should go before Azraal's goons decide to stage a rescue operation."