Inara! You need to get out of there! Athis urged from above. More are coming!
More? Inara repeated, her tone somewhere between despair and exhaustion.
Thanks to Galanör’s blades, Inara was only left to deal with the few lucky enough to make it past the elf. While her Vi’tari scimitar kept her body fighting, the Dragorn inspected the lift in as much detail as she could.
That is not a good idea, Athis protested.
I ran out of good ideas hours ago, Inara replied, decapitating an orc. You’ve got ten seconds to come up with a better one!
Inara! Athis objected.
“Get in the lift!” the Dragorn commanded.
“It won’t work!” Galanör shouted over his shoulder. “It’s too slow!”
With even more urgency and a touch of authority, Inara yelled back, “Galanör, get in the lift!”
Vighon ran into an orc, shield first, and slammed it into the wall before hammering it with the steel rim. “Just do what she says!” he bawled, hopping over the railing and turning to face any who followed him.
Galanör’s retreat was like the breaking of a dam. The swell of orcs that chased him back to the lift numbered so many that death was an inevitable certainty. Vighon put his sword through two more orcs, preventing them from hindering the elf’s arrival. Inara, inside the railings herself, couldn’t wait a second longer, for fear that the weight of the horde would ruin her plan.
“Galanör, jump!” She ordered, hoping the ranger could see her swinging her blade and knew what was about to happen.
Almost as sharp as silvyr, the Vi’tari steel sliced through the thick cord of rope that connected the lift to the counter-weight mechanism. Galanör, having already sheathed his fine blades, leaped high, reaching for the floor of the lift as it shot up the ravine. Only elven hands could have maintained such a grip, as the lift was launched at great speed.
The counter-weight dropped past them, bashing violently against the side of the rising platform, and plummeted into the orcs left in the street below.
Inara and Vighon lost their balance and fell to the floor. “Hold on!” the Dragorn shouted.
Galanör’s fingers were the only part of the ranger that could be seen for those agonising seconds it took the lift to reach the top of the ravine. The supporting struts at the top were damaged when the lift stopped with more momentum behind it than the entire mechanism was designed for. Inara and Vighon were thrown into the air before slamming back down on the platform. Galanör’s hanging form was similarly thrown into the air. Only the grace of his kin allowed the elf to land on his feet.
The sound of wood snapping filled the cold air.
“Run!” Vighon hissed, scrambling to his feet.
Inara felt Galanör’s hand scoop under her arm and she was dragged off the tilting lift. Vighon jumped as the whole lift, supports and all, collapsed, promising more death to the orcs below.
The northman came up with a face full of snow. “Are we dead?” he muttered.
Inara took a breath and nodded her thanks to Galanör.
The ranger held up his hand. “That was quick thinking on your behalf. We owe you our lives, Inara.”
The Dragorn waved the thanks away and searched for Athis. The red dragon was easily found, bounding over the gap between the ravines to be by her side again. Just seeing him lifted a crushing weight from her shoulders.
“I can’t believe we made it out of there,” Vighon said, rising to his feet.
They all peeked over the lip of the ravine and watched the orcs scrambling about below.
Most of the city made it to the caves, Athis said. The soldiers too. I watched Russell escape with many of them.
Inara managed a smile. “They made it,” she said for the benefit of those who couldn’t hear a dragon speaking in their minds. “Russell and the others; they made it.”
Vighon mirrored her tired smile. “At least this wasn’t for nothing. I could sleep for a week.”
“We shouldn’t linger,” Galanör warned, serious as ever. “We only have until nightfall before we become the hunted again.”
Inara… Athis’s tone opened a pit in her stomach. The dragon moved aside, turning their attention to the east. We no longer have the light…
Inara moved away from the lip of the ravine with tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. From the south, a cloud of black swallowed the world, its ethereal edges reaching out to block the rising sun. The pale sky slowly disappeared and the first rays of light with it.
Vighon came up beside her, his eyes fixed on the foreboding horizon. “What… what is that?”
As evil spread across the sky and they witnessed the dying of the light, the Dragorn could think of only one answer for Vighon.
A lone tear broke free and streaked down Inara’s cheek. “The end of the world…
Epilogue
Alijah’s head came forward as the sack cloth was torn from his head again. He had been moved through The Bastion in darkness, leaving him clueless as to its layout.
The only constant now was the oppressive cold. This new chamber was vast and filled with shadows. There was no roof and the walls ended in jagged stone; the only part of The Bastion he had yet seen that was in some state of ruin.
The rogue’s body shivered, his cloak, boots, and coat taken from him along with his bow and quiver. His hands were chained above him now, but he could still stand on the icy wet floor.
When the dark mages closed the door behind them, Alijah poured all of his grief and rage into a feral roar.
Hadavad was gone…
He could still see the mage’s final moments when he closed his eyes. Smell his burning skin. Hear his dying screams.
His frustrated roar turned into tears and he let his head droop as he sobbed in the freezing cold. He had lost his mentor, the only one who had seen something in him, trusted him.
What was happening? How could this be his life? Everything had turned upside down. The Crow’s explanation for all of this made no sense to the rogue and he didn’t want anything to do with it. He didn’t want to rule the world, especially at the cost The Crow spoke of.
Alijah tried to work it all through in his mind, struggling to believe what that wretch had told him. Having witnessed Asher’s resurrection, he knew Astari were possible, but the motivations of this Sarkas… The thought that The Crow had witnessed The First War and lived in Atilan’s empire was hard to fathom when his mind was clouded by grief and searing hate.
“I won’t…” he stuttered. “I won’t give in.” He started shaking his head, searching for any kind of resolution. “I won’t be broken. I WON’T BE BROKEN!” he screamed at the door.
Alijah didn’t care what The Crow thought he had seen, be it the future or in him. He would die before he let The Back Hand do anything to him.
Something in the shadows moved.
Alijah’s head whipped up, but he failed to pierce the darkness with nothing but the stars for light. Something shuffled and loose gravel was dragged across the stone. The rogue pressed himself against the wall, his eyes darting from side to side.
Two purple eyes opened in the abyss.
Malliath’s long breath exhaled over the chamber and hit Alijah’s cold face. The black dragon shifted in the shadows and his form became apparent with a long tail coiled around one side of the chamber. His wings were closed in around him, but his face was pointed directly at Alijah, his gaze intense.
Looking around, there was no sign of Asher, but from what he knew about the old assassin, he could be hiding anywhere in the dark.
“Why are we here?” he asked, suddenly aware of the volume of his voice.
The dragon continued to stare at him with those hypnotic purple eyes.
Alijah’s initial fear faded away and his frustration and anger returned. “Why are we here?” he shouted. “Why is any of this happening?” he asked, his voice breaking. “Oh, I forgot; you’re Malliath the voiceless. Maybe it should be Malliath the useless.”
The more Alijah stared back at those purple eyes the more he lost himself. Their fates were entwined. Everything The Crow was going to put him through, Malliath would share. There would be no end to their misery, and the longer he resisted The Crow the longer they would suffer. The ancient wizard would never stop; he had already braved the threshold of death to reach this far.
Malliath’s hot breath was the only thing keeping the cold at bay.
“Is it real?” Alijah whispered into the night. “Is our bond real?”
Malliath continued to stare at him, his thoughts his own. The dragon breathed on him again and the rogue basked in the warmth. There was more to it than warmth, though. Alijah could feel his muscles tensing and his skin tingling. He pulled against his manacles, only this time the pain of them digging into his skin didn’t hurt as much.
“What are you doing?” he asked, not expecting an answer.
Malliath let out a long breath of steam into the icy air. His reptilian eyes bored into Alijah, drawing the half-elf into another world where there was no pain or suffering.
Tears streaked down Alijah’s face. He could feel Malliath’s feelings bleeding with his own. The black dragon didn’t want to endure any more torture at the hands of others. He was frustrated and angry with the way the world had treated him, forcing him into exile for fear of his own wrath. Most of all, he was tired. Malliath wanted it all to be over, a sentiment that Alijah shared.
The thought of sitting on top of the world, a world built upon the graves of so many, made Alijah feel sick. Yet, there was a fury that seemed to exist in both of them that would witness The Crow’s vision come true. They could do the hard thing if it meant creating a better realm. A place where dragons weren’t enslaved and the downtrodden were championed.
But how many would die before that was achieved? How much suffering and pain would the two of them have to experience before The Crow released them?
No. He wouldn’t let that happen, not while he still had sense enough to choose. He would end it.
A crack of thunder exploded overhead, preceding the downpour of rain. Malliath’s hot scales steamed in the shadows and Alijah’s body shivered. The dragon’s hot breath, however, continued to breathe life into Alijah’s limbs. If he was going to do anything, he would have to do it now, before he lost the will and the energy gifted to him.
“I will end it,” he promised. “I will end it before it can go any further. You will find peace.”
Malliath stood up in the roofless chamber, his thick claws digging into the stone beneath him. The dragon arched his neck and looked down on Alijah, though he was content to do nothing but look at the rogue.
Alijah could feel it.
Their bond was a cord of three strands: Alijah, Malliath, and magic. The longer they were together the tighter those three strands entwined.
The half-elf darted forward and pulled down as hard as he could on the chain that connected him to the wall. The rusted square bolted to the stone began to shift forward. Alijah gritted his teeth and grunted with the exertion, telling himself that it was the last thing he would ever need to do. He put all his energy into it, all his strength, and determination. The bolts popped out of the wall one by one. The rogue pressed his feet into the wall and pushed with a deep cry on his lips.
The last bolts sprang out of the wall and his body fell forward, onto the wet floor. A single claw came down in front of him and snapped the links in the chain between his hands. Alijah looked up through the pouring rain and met Malliath’s blazing eyes. There was recognition in those eyes.
“I will end it…” he said again, his own tears mixing with the rain water.
With only the bindings around his wrists, Alijah staggered to his feet and made for the door. His whole body was splayed across the surface as he forced it open. There wasn’t much strength left in him anymore.
The Bastion’s winding halls were a maze to Alijah, who had only seen the inside of three chambers. Remaining as quiet as he could, the rogue stumbled down the corridors, hugging the walls before checking the corners. There could be dark mages anywhere. Cold and wet, he struggled to stop himself from shivering as he left footprints behind his every step.
An icy draft blew against his exposed skin, drawing him down the hall to his right. The Bastion was high up in The Vrost Mountains and the chamber he had just escaped from must have been near the top of the fortress since there had been no sign of any mountain above him.
The next corridor ended with an open arch that led onto a circular balcony. The stonework under his feet looked to be in some kind of pattern, but the heavy rain made it impossible to decipher. Alijah walked to the very edge, where there were no railings, and looked down. He was above the bulk of The Bastion and indeed The Vrost Mountains. It was a drop no man could survive.
Alijah clenched his fists, tears still streaming down his wet face. If he was gone, The Black Hand would have no reason to continue their fight. It could potentially unravel the entire war with the orcs. It would also save Malliath from torment…
He knew, above all else, that he would do anything for the dragon. His only regret, and it weighed heavily on his heart, was not saying goodbye to Inara or making peace with his parents. The truth of his love for them was something he had tried to bury deep in his soul.
But this was the only way.
Alijah edged forwards until his toes were hanging over the lip. It would be instant death from this height. He wouldn’t feel anything. One step and it would all be over.
“Don’t do it, Alijah!” The Crow called over the rain.
The rogue looked over his shoulder but kept his body facing the edge. “I won’t let you turn me into something else! I won’t let you hurt Malliath!” Alijah looked down again, his breathing ragged. “Not while I can still choose…”
“To build a better world, Alijah, the old one must be broken. You won’t do this from a place of malice; you’re not evil and you won’t be when you’re ready to leave this place.” The Crow stepped into the rain. “Killing yourself won’t save lives. It will only ensure the suffering of generations to come. You don’t see that yet, you don’t see how truly flawed this world is. But you will.”
Alijah clamped his jaw and kept his eyes on the chasm below. He had to be strong now. One last time.
“Alijah…” The Crow purred, drawing closer.
“You would have me become a monster!” the half-elf snapped.
“No,” The Crow reassured. “I will be the monster. I will kill everyone you love and hold dear if I have to. I will break the chains that hold you back and set you free! I have come too far, seen too much to let this world rot under the reign of lesser beings. You, Alijah Galfrey, will rise above them all and show the world a better way. I will do whatever I must…”
Alijah let his head drop. “No,” he whispered. “I won’t let you hurt any of them…”
To take a step was a simple thing, a small thing even. But right now, in the hammering rain, it would take such a simple and small thing to change his destiny.
Alijah exhaled a slow breath. There would be no more pain.
And so he stepped off the edge, and let the darkness swallow him…
Author Notes
Here I am again. I just couldn’t stay away from this world! The broad strokes of this particular story came to me when I was halfway through writing Empire of Dirt. As Reyna and Nathaniel grew closer in that story, I came to see that whatever came next would be about family.
As always, I’ve got a few other characters who have their own journey to go on. I always like to make sure that every character has their part to p
lay and is vital to the story as a whole. Boring side characters can ruin a book.
I’ve read a few books over the years where extra characters were slotted in for no good reason, or they were simply boring and I switched off.
So, Asher is back! Like I said, I had this story in mind before I finished Echoes of Fate, so I always knew the old ranger would return. Though, he is an enslaved Dragon Knight with a penchant for burning things at present. I guess we’ll just have to see how that goes…
It was hard seeing the reviews for Relic of the Gods, with some people stating they wouldn’t read this series because Asher wouldn’t be in it. I really wanted to say something, but I hate spoilers! So, thank you to those of you who held on and picked up this book.
I’ve always seen these books as The Echoes Saga (maybe 9 in total), with books 1-3 consisting of Echoes of Fate. The Fall of Neverdark is book 1 in the ‘Lost’ series, but I probably see it as book 4 in the overall saga. I did my best to try and find a happy medium so that both new and previous readers could pick this up and enjoy it.
After Echoes of the Lost, I’m fairly certain there’s one more story to tell in The Echoes Saga. After that I have plans to write in a slightly different time period of Verda, but I’ll reveal the subject of those books at a later date. If you make it as far as the appendices at the back of this book, you’ll see that this world has a lot of history that has yet to be fully fleshed out. I can’t say for sure how many years I’m going to spend in Verda, but I know there’s a lot of stories therein that need to be told.
It’s possible by this point that you’ve already got a favourite character from this book, or maybe a few. One of my favourites that I just loved writing from the POV was Doran Heavybelly. I knew he had to return from Echoes of Fate and I received a lot of messages from fans wanting more of him too. This worked out great because I always had plans to go to Dhenaheim and introduce readers to my dwarven kingdoms; they just didn’t fit into the previous trilogy.
I apologise to those of you who were really hoping I would dive head first into Dhenaheim. Doran has a very different perspective to most other characters but, more importantly, he has a unique perspective on his own people. It felt important to tell the beginning of his tale through the journey to Dhenaheim since he was returning home and what that meant to him. Needless to say, Age of Ruin will plant the reader in the heart of dwarven culture.
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