Tevek didn’t have to wait long before it slid open. The bodies of several guardsmen lie dead on the other side. Most had been cleaved in half at sword point, but a few had been struck down from a distance by crossbow bolts. Two men loomed above them—one was tall and muscular with a badly scarred face, while the other was of medium height and medium build with pale skin and eyes like burnished obsidian.
“Hello, Highlord,” Kroll said, his lips twisted into a wide, sadistic smile. “I had hoped I would see you again, but I never expected to find you standing here. Perhaps the Aether has a sense of humor after all.”
“I wanted to give you the chance to face me as an equal,” Tevek said.
“Equal,” the man sneered. “There is nothing equal about us, paladin. You are a parasite leeching off your betters—I am the face of the future.”
“Not even another war could make Torsia that ugly,” Tevek murmured. “Besides, you lost the only fair fight you had in Lyebel. I’m sure you had plenty of time to think about that during your time in chains.”
Kroll’s smiled faded. Tevek had faced down plenty of men like this before, and their biggest weakness was always their stubborn pride. If he could slip beneath this man’s skin, he might be able to delay him long enough for help to arrive…
“You are a legend, even in the Imperium,” Kroll said, his voice as cold and sharp as a frozen dagger. “Peasants from Drakendaar to Geriskhad gossip about the great Tevek Dracian and his majestic knights. They whisper about how he battles evil and injustice, and how one day he will come to liberate them from the yoke of the Sovereigns.” He scoffed. “They don’t understand. They don’t see your weakness as I do.”
Tevek glanced over to the pale-skinned man—the Zarul Shadow. “You speak so fondly of your own people. It’s a wonder you’re willing to fight and die for them.”
“The vorhang are pitiable,” Kroll said. “But parasites like you and your knights…you sicken me.”
The Shadow turned and glared at his ally, but Kroll didn’t even seem to notice. He was focused squarely on the paladin in front of him, blade twirling in his hand, just as Tevek wanted.
“I’m not a Bound anymore,” Tevek said “I’m just a man, and I’m going to kill you.”
Kroll laughed, but the dark figure next to him lifted his crossbow and aimed it at Tevek’s chest. With no Aether and no shield, he had no defense against even a simple weapon, and for a moment he thought the Shadow would end this battle right then and there.
But thankfully, Kroll was exactly the type of man Tevek suspected him to be. He smacked the Shadow’s weapon just as he fired, and the bolt whistled well wide of its target.
“No!” Kroll growled. “He is mine.”
“The mistress demands—”
“The mistress will be grateful to have one less leach siphoning away her power,” Kroll hissed. “Your usefulness is at an end.”
The Shadow’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he never had a chance to react. Kroll back-handed his partner across the face, flattening him to the ground, before hoisting up his blade and driving it through the Shadow’s back.
“I was cheated out of this chance at Lyebel, but not again,” Kroll proclaimed, ripping his blade free and swiveling his psychotic glare at Tevek. “I am going to kill you, Highlord, and then I’m going to gut this pitiful wretch you call a king.”
Tevek lifted his sword in an abridged salute. “You are certainly welcome to try.”
Kroll lunged forward. Their blades met in a shower of sparks and steel.
Chapter Twenty-Two
With an abrupt flick of his wrist, Kyle Adar signaled for his soldiers to take aim at the watchmen standing guard outside the southern gate to the Lyebel garrison. The Crell defenses were even lighter than he’d expected; Ethan’s final demonic attack earlier in the week must have softened up the watch even more than Adar had realized. That, or the Sovereigns were so distracted by their attack on Solaria that they’d forgotten to watch their own flank. Whatever the case, he was going to make these bastards pay for their negligence.
“Fire!”
The watchmen never stood a chance. A storm of crossbow bolts whistled across the narrow courtyard, and the defenders near the gate were dead within seconds. The two men patrolling the top of the wall didn’t fare any better; they noticed the sudden attack and dashed for the warning bell, but the rebel marksman picked them off before they could take more than a few steps.
“Move!” Adar ordered, leaping to his feet. The Solarian priest dispelled the shroud of concealing magic he had woven over the unit to hide their approach, and everyone rushed forward towards the gate. All around the garrison, the other rebel squads began their assault as well. Adar had divided them more or less evenly, providing each group with twelve soldiers, one Knight of the Last Dawn, and a Solarian priest. He wasn’t sure how much longer the latter would hold out—if Ethan’s plan succeeded, the Solarian king wouldn’t outlive the day—but as long as his men smashed their way into the garrison soon, it wouldn’t matter. Once they were inside, the paladins could probably handle the rest of the fighting. The local commander would surrender, and Lyebel would belong to Galvia once again.
Ria took up a position directly across from him and nodded. Adar could see the twinkle of resolve in her eyes. She had been looking forward to this a long time. So had everyone here.
“Squads two and three are in position,” the priest reported. “They await your command.”
“There’s no reason to hold back,” Adar said. “Go ahead and punch through.”
The priest nodded and sucked in a deep breath. He extended his hands towards the gate, and a few moments later a roaring plume of flame erupted from his fingertips. Normally, it would take forever to burn through a metal portcullis, but the priest wasn’t actually trying to melt the steel bars. He merely softened them up for a few seconds before lashing out with a series of white-purple bolts made of pure Aetheric energy. Less than a minute later the glowing bars of steel buckled and collapsed.
“Charge!” Adar ordered.
The rebels poured into the compound, Sir Lavonde and his glimmering Aetheric shield in the lead. The watchmen inside the gate were prepared for the attack, but it hardly mattered. A third of them dropped beneath the first volley of bolts, and the Solarian priest annihilated several others with a scorching blast of flame. Lavonde, for his part, rushed directly towards the defending Imperators. His shield easily deflected their magical assault, and he cut them down before they could signal for a retreat or rally more of their men from inside.
“Secure the perimeter,” Adar called out once the skirmish was over. “Once the other squads are ready, we’ll push into the central keep.”
“It’s really happening,” Ria whispered as she stepped up next to him. Her eyes remained fastened on the priest and the paladin along with them. “The outside world finally takes notice, and suddenly the Crell can’t stand against us.”
Adar nodded, and a thin smile tugged at his lips. After all the years of blood and death fighting to regain their homeland—after all the years fighting alone while the rest of Torsia seemed content to sit back and watch—they were finally about to achieve a real, lasting victory. A week ago, he had been ready to give up and commit suicide; now he felt as exhilarated as when he had first joined the Galvian army all those years ago. This time, they were finally on the offensive. This time, their enemies were the ones running scared. This time, Galvia would be free.
The priest shattered the inner doorway with another blast of magic, and Adar unsheathed his sword.
“For King Whitestone!” he cried out. “For Galvia!”
They charged forward into the keep, racing towards destiny.
***
Tevek smashed an elbow into Kroll’s side, knocking the other man backwards into the chamber wall. The paladin hacked downward in an attempt to score a quick killing blow, but Kroll wasn’t defeated so easily. Whipping up his own blade, the Crell deflected the slash just ov
er his head and then jabbed his left fist into Tevek’s jaw. Reeling, Tevek barely managed to hobble away in time before Kroll sliced open his gut and spilled his entrails across the pristine floor.
This “Breaker” was a skilled fighter—there was no denying that. He was easily as strong as Tevek, and what he lacked in experience he made up for in youth. After just a few minutes of parries and ripostes, Tevek could already feel himself slowing down. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how much he had come to rely upon the Aether to bolster his muscles and compensate for his aging body.
But it didn’t matter. He had sworn to protect Areekan with his life, and that was exactly what he was going to do. All he needed was a change in tactics—he just needed to fight defensively to force Kroll into wasting time. Even a Breaker couldn’t stand against an entire regiment of elite Alliance soldiers.
With an annoyed growl, Kroll attacked. He hacked away relentlessly with his broadsword using the confined space to his advantage as he forced Tevek to backpedal and retreat. Steel clattered against steel, but Tevek quickly realized he simply couldn’t keep up with the other man’s sheer ferocity. Kroll’s backswings nicked him in several places, drawing blood beneath the paladin’s armor, though eventually Tevek managed to score a slash across Kroll’s shoulder.
Both men had been trained to fight in heavy armor, and they were accustomed to taking harmless cuts and scratches as a part of their combat style. Theirs was not a graceful dance, but one of sheer power; they struck with sweeping slashes and brutal thrusts, and both men were happy to pummel with their fists and body as much as their blades.
“You may be a legend,” Kroll spat as he retreated backwards, lifting his blade defensively and catching his breath, “but you are old and weak. It’s a miracle you survived Lyebel.”
“You were sloppy,” Tevek said with a shrug. “You’re just lucky Elade spared you.”
“A decision I’m sure she already regrets. Has the Dawn banished her yet? Have they strung her up in gallows in terror of her potential? Your order claims to respect strength, but they fear their most powerful member. What does that tell you?”
“It tells me you don’t know as much about us as you believe.”
“I know that you are weak. I know that before this war is over, the mistress will break each and every one of your precious knights.” Kroll smiled. “And you will have exiled the only one who could save you.”
The Breaker leapt forward with a wicked overhead chop, but Tevek was ready. He caught the blow head-on, and for a moment the two men glared at each other, blades locked together, before Tevek pressed the small button on Temperance’s handle. Two dagger-like clamps suddenly popped out of the cross-guard and latched onto Kroll’s blade. Tevek twisted his sword hard, and Kroll’s weapon flipped free of his grip before skittering across the chamber floor.
The battle could have easily ended right then and there, but Kroll adjusted quickly. With a guttural roar he drove an elbow into Tevek’s chest, then punched him squarely in the chin. The paladin toppled backwards, and he would have completely lost his balance if not for the chamber wall. By the time he recovered, Kroll had already swept up his blade and launched another offensive.
Tevek knew his time was running short. He was out of tricks, and Kroll’s strength seemed to be waxing even as his continued to wane. He still couldn’t hear the Solarian reinforcements closing in, which meant they could have easily been minutes away—minutes he no longer had. Tevek needed to find a way to force Kroll to let his guard down…and at this point there was only one way he could think to do it.
Battling off another quick series of slashes, Tevek decided to take a gamble. He risked a wild lunge into Kroll’s defenses, and he managed to clip the Breaker’s forearm…but completely exposed himself in the process. Kroll retaliated with another flurry of strikes, and after swatting Temperance aside, he drove his blade directly through Tevek’s chest.
The paladin lurched forward, a welling of blood rising up his throat and dribbling out his lips. He was dead—he knew that much for certain. The strength was already leaving his limbs, and blood and bile filled his lungs and choked off his air. His eyes flicked up to Kroll’s, and the Breaker grinned sadistically as he slowly twisted his blade.
The world became a indecipherable crimson haze, and Tevek’s thoughts flashed to darkness and sorrow he was about to leave behind. In the span of a few weeks, he had lost everything. His powers, his knights, and now even his life. Those he loved most would be chased down across the world or be forced to live their lives in secret, and so much of the light he had sought to bring to Obsidian had already been stamped out before him. The Crell threatened to conquer all of Torsia, and once this man made it past him, they might very well succeed.
He tried to cling to his lingering rage and bitterness, to somehow summon the will to fight on…but there was nothing left. His knees sagged, and he nearly crumpled to the floor—
And then a single image flashed in his mind: an ageless faeyn woman, her lithe body sheathed in a silver dress, looking down upon him for the first time. Her violent eyes sparkled, and he swore he could feel her hands on his face…
With a defiant roar, Tevek slammed his forehead into Kroll’s face with enough force to shatter the other man’s nose. The Breaker stumbled backwards, his eyes gaping wide in confusion, and Tevek swung Temperance in a final, desperate slash. Blood showered the chamber, and Kroll’s body crumpled to the floor. His head rolled out into the corridor.
Tevek collapsed to his knees. His body surrendered, and he expected darkness to rush up and greet him. But instead he saw Selvhara’s smiling face looking down at him, and he reached up to hold her hand.
***
“No!”
Krystia’s shriek echoed up and down the corridor, and she sprinted forward faster than seemed humanly possible. Ethan frowned and struggled to keep up…and then he saw Tevek Dracian’s unmistakable figure slouched limply inside the purification chamber.
“Tevek, you fool…” Ethan whispered, shaking his head and coming to an abrupt halt. He had known that his old nemesis was here in the King’s Tower, of course, but he had assumed Tevek would be smart enough to stay out of the way. Obviously, Ethan should have known better. Even without his powers, Tevek Dracian was still a paladin, and that meant he was physically incapable of seeing reason.
The corridor was littered with bodies. A squad of royal guardsmen had been shot or cut down, and the Shadow’s corpse rested between them. Just outside the chamber, Kroll’s disembodied head stared outward into the corridor, an incredulous glare permanently frozen on his blood-soaked face.
As Krystia dove atop Tevek’s body and frantically tried to resuscitate him, Ethan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. With everyone else dead, their path to Areekan was clear. He couldn’t have possibly planned this any better. They had shown up at precisely the perfect moment to blame the Crell for the king’s death, but now they could also work Tevek’s demise into their little drama. The Council would see how many had fallen in defense of the king, and they would turn to Krystia as their only savior.
Assuming she recovered from the shock of Tevek’s death. Unfortunately, that was no guarantee.
“Stay still, stay still,” she breathed, her hands trembling even as they closed with magic. The dampening crystals seemed to have little influence on her power, just like she had promised earlier.
“There’s nothing you can do for him,” Ethan whispered. “But we need to hurry: the other guards will be here soon.”
Krystia didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. Tears streaked down her face as she clutched Tevek’s body tightly in her arms. The paladin was clearly dead—he had been completely impaled upon Kroll’s broadsword. Ethan didn’t understand how Tevek could have possibly beheaded the Breaker while suffering from such a wound…
But again, Ethan knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d always found it easy to hate Tevek Dracian, from the paladin’s unbreakable idealism to his ins
ipid naiveté…but most of all, Ethan had hated the way everyone else seemed to adore the other man. Tevek preferred the difficult path to the practical one, and somehow he almost always succeeded anyway. His triumphs made men who cloaked themselves in rationalizations and pragmatism—men like Ethan—look like fools or even cowards. Even here, stripped of his powers and twenty years his opponent’s senior, Tevek had taken down a Breaker. It was the kind of impossible victory he had achieved countless times before in his life. It was what made him a hero. It was what made extraordinary women like Selvhara Narhesti turn away from deplorable men like Ethan Moore.
Taking a knee, Ethan leaned down and closed Tevek’s eyes. “Rest well, old friend.”
He remained silent for a long moment, wondering distantly if his withered body was even capable of producing tears at this point, before a sudden crackle of energy rippled across Krystia’s body. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, but she brought herself to her feet. With a flick of her wrist, a brilliant pulse of violet energy erupted from her fingertips and blasted the double doors at the back of the chamber. When the smoke cleared, the door and its frame were gone as if they had never even been there at all.
Inside, the High Priest Kaeldar and two royal guardsmen stood ready to defend their king. A protective barrier of Aetheric energy glimmered around the priest, and the soldiers held their swords out threateningly.
“Krystia?” the old man gasped. “By Sol…what happened?”
Her face didn’t even twitch. She stepped forward through the chamber, eyes locked with the Voice. The two guards raised their swords to strike—and then wordlessly crumpled over, their weapons clatteringly harmlessly to the floor.
Kaeldar’s eyes gaped wide with horror. He stood stiffly, as if he were paralyzed, the only movement was his shaking head.
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