Page 28

Elindir

T he Assembly erupted into chaos at Tarathiel's declaration. Representatives rose from their seats, some shouting protests, while others stood in stunned silence. The observers' gallery dissolved into frantic movement, nobles and officials pressing toward exits or clustering in heated discussion.

"This is outrageous!" Klaus Wolfheart's voice cut through the tumult. "The Assembly has spoken! You cannot simply discard the vote because it displeases you!"

Tarathiel didn't even acknowledge him, his attention focused entirely on the guards now moving to surround Ruith. "Take him," he commanded again, his voice hard as iron. "Now."

My heart clenched painfully in my chest at the sight of Ruith standing there, still chained, yet somehow more regal than his father could ever be. Everything in me screamed to go to him, to protect him as he had once protected me. Time seemed to slow as guards closed in around him, their weapons drawn. My heart hammered against my ribs as I recognized the subtle shift in his stance. He was preparing to fight, even in chains, even against hopeless odds.

And I would not allow him to fight alone.

A sharp whistle cut through the chaos. Our signal. It was time.

I vaulted over the gallery railing, landing on the Assembly floor beside Ruith. Katyr and Niro rose to join me.

I moved toward the nearest guard, the one holding the key to Ruith's chains. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and something shifted in his expression. He pressed the key into my palm and whispered, “Long live the king.”

My fingers found the lock on Ruith's chains, turning the key with steady hands despite the chaos erupting around us. The manacles fell away with a satisfying clatter against marble.

"Elindir," Ruith breathed, his voice so low only I could hear it. His eyes held a mixture of joy and disbelief.

"Later," I whispered, pressing a sword into his newly freed hands. "We need to move."

Commander Varyk recovered first, drawing his blade. "Seize them! The human has freed the prisoner!"

Guards moved forward in disciplined formation, weapons drawn. But they hesitated, unsure who to attack first. The freed prisoner, the human consort, or the battle mage and general who now stood with us, blocking their approach.

Niro stepped directly into Varyk's path, his own blade raised. "I've waited a long time for this, Commander."

"As have I, traitor," Varyk snarled.

Silver bells chimed as Varyk circled Niro. The Assembly chamber stood frozen, all eyes on them.

The first clash of their blades broke the silence like thunder. Steel kissed steel with such force that sparks scattered across polished marble. My heart thundered in my chest as the chamber descended into chaos around us.

Across the room, Aryn was suddenly at the doors, two guards falling before they could even draw their weapons. Katyr's hands glowed with blue fire, his taps flaring brightly as he worked to shield us from the mages who had begun casting from the gallery above.

"We must go," Ruith shouted as he took up a defensive position at my side. The guard who’d passed me the key tossed him a sword. "Niro! We cannot linger!"

Niro's response was a guttural battle cry as he pressed Varyk back with a vicious combination of strikes. "Go!" he shouted without taking his eyes from his opponent. "I'll follow when this is finished!"

Katyr's magic faltered momentarily, torn between shielding our escape and rushing to Niro's side. "Let me fight with you!"

"Focus on getting them out!" Niro commanded, never breaking his rhythm as he parried Varyk's counterattack. "I'll find you, Katyr. I promise."

Katyr hesitated, conflict evident in every line of his body, then reluctantly redirected his magic to hold back the spells from above. The pain in his eyes was palpable as he turned away from Niro.

I hesitated, wanting to stay and fight alongside him, but Ruith's hand gripped my arm. "This is his fight, not ours."

"The western exit," Katyr called, his hands weaving complex patterns while his eyes kept darting back to Niro. "To the tunnels!"

We fought our way toward the western exit, Ruith and I moving in perfect synchronization despite months of separation. His blade flashed beside mine, each of us anticipating the other's movements as if we'd never been apart. Guards fell back before our advance, some reluctant to engage their former prince, others simply outmatched by our desperate fury.

"This way!" Aryn called from ahead.

The western exit led to a narrow corridor that descended in a steep spiral. Katyr brought up our rear, his taps glowing as he maintained a shield against pursuers. Behind us, the sounds of combat diminished as we descended deeper beneath the Assembly Hall, but Niro's absence weighed on all of us, especially Katyr, whose eyes kept darting back the way we'd come.

"He'll find us," Ruith told him as we reached a heavy iron door at the bottom of the staircase. "Niro always does."

Katyr nodded once, though the worry in his eyes remained. He pressed his palm against the door, blue light spreading from his fingers across the ancient metal. "This leads to the maintenance tunnels beneath D'thallanar. The oldest part of the sewer system."

The door swung open with a protesting groan, revealing a dimly lit passage that stretched into darkness. The smell of damp stone and stagnant water, overlaid with the unmistakable stench of sewage made me grimace. Ruith's face tightened momentarily before he mastered his expression.

"Better than execution," I quipped, drawing a tight smile from him.

"Marginally," he replied, taking my hand for a brief, fierce squeeze. Even through the chaos of our escape, the simple contact sent warmth through me. He was alive. We were together. Everything else was secondary.

We slipped through the doorway, Aryn leading with the practiced stealth of his Shikami training. The passage opened into a broader tunnel where a stone walkway ran alongside a channel of flowing water. Ancient phosphorescent fungi grew along the walls, casting an eerie blue glow that illuminated our path with ghostly light.

"These tunnels run beneath the riverbed, connecting the island to all fourteen districts like spokes in a wheel," Katyr explained as we moved forward.

"We can reach any part of the city from here without surfacing, then," Daraith said.

"Exactly," Aryn confirmed. "Assuming you don't mind the smell."

Ruith's hand brushed mine as we navigated a particularly narrow section. "This brings back memories. The D'thallanar riots. Aryn led us through these same tunnels."

I caught the shadow that passed across his face at the mention of that day. The day Miya died. His fingers tightened briefly around mine, then released.

"We’ll make it out alive," Aryn promised, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He glanced back at his brother with understanding in his ice-blue eyes.

A distant shout echoed down the tunnel behind us, followed by the clatter of armored boots on stone. Tarathiel's guards had found our escape route.

"Quickly," Ruith urged, though we were already moving as fast as the slippery walkway allowed. "Where are we headed, Aryn?"

"Craiggybottom territory," Aryn replied without slowing. "Captain Seagrave's people control the outer maintenance shafts. They'll get us to the forces waiting outside the city."

We pushed forward, the sounds of pursuit growing louder behind us. The tunnel branched repeatedly, forming a labyrinth that might have been impossible to navigate without Aryn's perfect sense of direction. Left, right, another left, down a short flight of stairs worn smooth by centuries of drainage. I quickly lost track of our path through the underground maze.

The walkway narrowed as we followed a smaller channel, forcing us to proceed in single file. Water sloshed at our ankles, soaking our boots and chilling our skin. Above us, metal grates occasionally revealed glimpses of the city streets, letting in shafts of daylight and the distant sounds of commerce continuing, oblivious to the drama unfolding beneath.

"Wait," Aryn hissed suddenly, raising a hand to halt our progress. "Listen."

We froze, straining to hear over the gentle gurgle of flowing water. At first, I caught nothing unusual—then a faint scraping sound ahead of us, metal against stone. Aryn's eyes narrowed as his hand moved to his weapon.

"That's not pursuit," he murmured. "Someone's waiting for us."

The tunnel curved ahead, preventing us from seeing what lay beyond. Aryn moved forward silently, motioning for us to remain still. He pressed himself against the damp wall, inching toward the bend with the practiced caution of an assassin.

A flash of magic suddenly illuminated the tunnel—not Katyr's familiar blue, but a sickly green that sent shadows dancing wildly across the curved walls. Aryn dove back toward us as a bolt of energy struck the spot where he had been standing, leaving a smoking crater in the ancient stone.

"Battle mages," he spat, drawing his blades. "They've cut off our path."

"How did they get ahead of us?" I asked, my own weapon ready.

Katyr shook his head. "They didn't need to follow our route. It’s possible they’ve been lying in wait this entire time."

"Can we find another way?" Ruith scanned the walls for side passages or maintenance shafts.

"Not easily," Aryn admitted, his expression softening slightly at Daraith's arrival. "This section runs beneath Ivygrass territory. The only branch points are behind us now."

Daraith's tattoos pulsed brighter. "They've brought death to these tunnels before," he observed, his voice taking on an unsettling resonance that made the hairs on my neck rise. "Many slaves died here during the riots. Their spirits remain."

"Daraith," Katyr warned, recognizing where this was heading. "Are you sure that's wise? Necromancy in D'thallanar itself—"

"Would be a shocking breach of protocol," Daraith agreed with the faintest hint of a smile. "How fortunate we're already fugitives."

Another flash of green magic illuminated the curve ahead, though this bolt struck harmlessly against the ceiling, seemingly meant as a warning rather than attack. A voice called out, echoing strangely in the confined space.

"Surrender now, and the Primarch may yet show mercy!"

Ruith's eyes met mine. "We fight through," he said simply.

I nodded, shifting my grip on my weapon. "Together."

"Wait," Daraith interjected, his silver tattoos now pulsing with increasing intensity. "The dead may clear our path first."

He knelt, placing one palm against the damp stone floor. Ancient words flowed from his lips, each syllable seeming to hang in the air like physical things. The temperature around us plummeted until our breath frosted in the dim light. A strange wind stirred through the tunnel, carrying whispers and half-formed sounds that might have been voices.

"What's happening?" I asked, unable to keep the unease from my voice.

"The forgotten," Aryn replied quietly, moving to stand protectively near Daraith. "The slaves who died here during the riots. Daraith is... waking them."

From the water beside us, misty forms began to rise, translucent shapes that gradually solidified into recognizable figures. Men and women in tattered clothing, their necks bearing ghostly marks of collars long removed. Their eyes, hollow and luminous, fixed on the bend ahead where the battle mages waited.

"The dead don’t forget," Daraith explained, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control over the conjured spirits. "They will help us now."

The ghostly slaves surged around the bend. Shouts of alarm and panic erupted as they encountered the battle mages. Flashes of green magic lit the tunnel in strobing bursts accompanied by the unnerving sounds of spectral wailing. The temperature dropped further, frost forming along the tunnel walls as Daraith's power intensified.

Before we could implement our plan, a new sound reached us—splashing water and rapid footsteps from behind. The pursuit had caught up more quickly than expected, cutting off retreat.

"The overflow pipe," Aryn said suddenly, pointing to a narrow opening in the wall beside us. "It connects directly to the river."

Ruith assessed the opening with a frown. "Too small for armored guards. But we'd be vulnerable while crawling through."

Daraith shook his head, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of controlling the spirits. "I cannot maintain this summoning if we separate," he warned, his voice thin with effort. "The moment I release them, the battle mages will recover."

"I'll buy you time," Katyr said, raising his hands as blue fire danced between his fingers. "Get Ruith to safety. I'll find another way out."

"No!" Ruith's response was immediate and fierce. "We stay together."

The sounds of pursuit grew louder behind us, while ahead, the flashes of magic grew more erratic as the battle mages fought desperately against the spectral onslaught. Daraith stumbled slightly, Aryn's hand immediately steadying him.

"He can't maintain this much longer," Aryn warned, concern evident in his usually impassive face. "The spirits are growing unstable."

A sudden explosion rocked the tunnel, water splashing violently as debris rained down from above. For a terrifying moment, I thought the entire structure might collapse around us. Then a familiar voice called out from the direction we had come.

"This way! Quickly!"

Niro appeared through the settling dust, his armor splattered with blood that I hoped wasn't his own. Behind him, Klaus Wolfheart led a group of warriors bearing his clan's insignia. Wisps of shadow still clung to Niro's hands, dissipating slowly into the dim light of the tunnel.

"What was that explosion?" I asked as Niro reached us.

"Shadow compression," he explained, flexing his fingers as the last tendrils of darkness faded from them. "I collapsed part of the tunnel to cut off Tarathiel's guards. The eastern tunnel is clear. Lord Wolfheart's people have secured a path to the river gates."

Relief flooded Katyr's face at the sight of Niro alive and relatively unharmed. "Varyk?"

A grim smile touched Niro's face. "The silver bells will ring no more."

There was no time to celebrate. From around the bend came screams that belonged to neither ghost nor living person, but a terrible hybrid sound as Daraith's control began to slip.

"We need to move," he gasped, his silver tattoos flickering erratically. "They're breaking free. I can't—"

Aryn caught him as his knees buckled, supporting his weight without hesitation. "Niro, he needs help," he called, a rare note of vulnerability in his voice.

The battle mages had begun a coordinated counter-attack, their green energy now pushing back against the ghostly forces. One of the spirits emerged from around the bend, its form distorted and wild, no longer under Daraith's control. It let out a piercing howl.

"Move now," Klaus ordered, his warriors forming a protective line. "My people will hold them here while you reach the river."

"Lord Wolfheart," Ruith began, clearly reluctant to leave allies behind.

"This is not a discussion, Your Majesty," Klaus interrupted. "My daughter awaits your return to Calibarra. I intend to ensure you can fulfill that obligation."

Ruith clasped Klaus's arm in farewell. "Fight well, my friend."

Klaus nodded, already turning to organize his warriors against the approaching threat. "Go!"

Niro took Daraith from Aryn, supporting the exhausted necromancer as we raced back the way we had come. Daraith's face was alarmingly pale, the silver tattoos now barely visible against his ashen skin.

"The summoning took too much from him," Aryn explained tersely as we followed Niro down a different branch that spiraled deeper beneath the city. "He channeled too many spirits at once."

When Daraith's eyes fluttered open briefly, Aryn leaned closer to him, his voice low but sharp with a mixture of concern and irritation. "I told you not to overextend. You never listen." Despite the harshness of his words, his hand gently brushed a strand of hair from Daraith's face. "If you die in these tunnels, I'll find a way to bring you back just to kill you myself."

Daraith's lips curved in a weak smile. "Worth it," he whispered hoarsely.

"Stubborn necromancer," Aryn muttered.

Behind us, the sounds of combat mingled with unearthly wailing as Daraith's freed spirits lashed out indiscriminately.

The new tunnel widened as we progressed, the ceiling rising until we could stand comfortably. The flowing water beside our path grew deeper and faster, suggesting we approached one of the main channels that fed into the river beyond D'thallanar's walls.

"The river gate is just ahead," Niro explained as we ran. "A maintenance exit where the sewers empty into the Thallan. Captain Seagrave has boats waiting downstream."

"And guards?" Ruith asked, ever the strategist.

"Likely," Niro admitted. "But they'll expect us to exit through the city proper, not beneath it."

The tunnel ended abruptly at a massive iron grate where the water channel joined a larger flow that rushed toward daylight visible beyond. The grate itself was ancient, crusted with minerals and rust, but still solid enough to prevent passage.

Katyr approached it, hands already glowing. "Stand back," he warned. "This will draw attention."

Blue fire erupted from his fingertips, concentrated beams targeting the grate's weakest points. Metal groaned in protest, then surrendered with a shriek of tearing iron. The section collapsed outward, creating an opening just large enough for us to pass through single file.

Beyond lay the river itself, sunlight sparkling on its surface. The bank was steep here, with no obvious path up to the streets above. The river's current moved swiftly. If we fell in, there would be no easy swim back.

"There," Aryn pointed downstream, where several small boats had been secured against a partially collapsed pier. "Seagrave's people."

We moved quickly along the narrow bank, slipping occasionally on moss-covered stones. Niro continued supporting Daraith, whose condition seemed to be stabilizing, though he remained worryingly silent. The river gate emerged behind us, a dark mouth in the massive wall that surrounded D'thallanar. Guards patrolled the top of the wall, but their attention remained fixed outward, watching for threats approaching the city rather than escaping from it.

The boats were simple fishing skiffs, but they would serve our purpose. As we approached, Craiggybottom clan members rose from their hiding places among the reeds.

"King Ruith," their leader greeted with a quick bow. "Captain Seagrave sent us. The boats will take you downriver to where your forces wait."

"How many guards at the river checkpoint?" Niro asked, already assessing our next challenge.

"Doubled since the alarm was raised," the woman replied. "But they're watching the bridges and main gates. This section is lightly patrolled."

We boarded quickly, distributing our weight carefully to prevent the small craft from sitting too low in the water. Ruith and I took the first boat, while Katyr, Niro, and Aryn settled Daraith in the second. Our Craiggybottom allies took up positions to guide the vessels into the current.

Behind us, a low rumble shook the ground. Dust and debris erupted from the tunnel entrance we had just left, followed by an unnatural silence. Whatever battle had raged between Klaus's warriors, the battle mages, and the unleashed spirits had reached some kind of conclusion.

As we pushed away from shore, a shout came from atop the wall. We had been spotted. Guards pointed in our direction, their voices carrying faintly across the water as they called for reinforcements.

"Row!" Niro commanded. "Quickly!"

I took up a pair of crude oars and began rowing along with everyone else in the boat. Behind us, the alarm spread along the wall, guards running to positions where they might intercept our escape. Arrows splashed into the water around us, most falling short as the current carried us beyond effective range.

"There's the checkpoint," Ruith warned, nodding toward a fortified position where the river passed beyond the city's outermost wall. A heavy chain could be raised to block the passage of larger vessels, while guards with crossbows monitored all traffic from stone towers on either bank.

"They're raising the chain," I observed, watching the massive links slowly rise from the water.

"Too late," Katyr called from the second boat. "We'll pass before it's fully up."

He was right, but only just. Our small craft slipped beneath the rising barrier with inches to spare, metal scraping against the top of the second boat as it followed. Crossbow bolts rained down from the towers, several striking our vessels, though fortunately hitting no flesh before Katyr erected a barrier.

And then we were through, the current accelerating as the river narrowed beyond the checkpoint. D'thallanar receded behind us, its towers and domes growing smaller with each passing moment. The guards continued firing from the wall, but we had passed beyond their range.

Ruith sagged against me, the adrenaline of escape giving way to exhaustion. His body trembled slightly against mine.

"You came for me," he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the rush of water. "You actually came for me."

I curled my fingers through his, the simple contact offering reassurance we both needed. "Always," I replied. "Wherever you are, I will find you."

He smiled then, a genuine expression that transformed his face. His eyes held mine with such intensity that the world around us seemed to fade away—the river, the pursuit, even the others in the boat with us.

"I love you," he said simply. "Beyond reason, beyond sense. I love you."

"I know," I replied, unable to keep the smile from my face. "I've always known."

Behind us, bells rang urgently from the city's towers. For a moment, I felt a pang of guilt for those we'd left behind—Klaus and his warriors, the ordinary citizens caught in whatever chaos now spread through D'thallanar's streets. But that guilt was quickly overshadowed by the overwhelming relief of having Ruith beside me, alive and free.

The river carried us swiftly away from D'thallanar, toward allies waiting beyond the next bend. Toward the future we had fought so hard to protect.

Behind us, the distant clamor of bells continued, spreading the alarm of the escaped prisoners. Let them ring, I thought. Let the whole realm know that Ruith Starfall had defied the Primarch.

Let them all know their king lived.