Farren snorted, crossing his arms and jerking his head toward the tunnel. “If I hadn’t, why would I be sticking my head out here? Come on, before someone has a chance to notice that I went missing.”
Nodding in satisfaction, Hall gestured the first of his soldiers forward, stepping up to Farren. “Are you worried that you’ll be missed? I hope that your father isn’t suspicious.”
“Pfft. Father thinks I can do no wrong. Don’t worry, he thinks I go into the basements to get some wine to calm my nerves,” Farren replied, shaking his head firmly. “I’ve been doing that regularly since you reached Skythorn to get him used to it.”
“Excellent. Now, are the floorplans we were given accurate?” Hall asked, stepping into the tunnel and looking around with interest. The tunnel was simple earth reinforced by wooden beams, but the framing was heavily carved with spells. Ivan was no mage, but even he recognized runes of concealment when they were used that frequently.
“Yes, yes, of course they are!” Farren retorted impatiently, walking beside Hall as they started down the tunnel. “I have a question for you, though. What about Princess Jaine and Arise? You’re going to keep your word with them, right? And with Phynis, once you drag her out of that new city of hers?”
Glancing away from the tunnel’s structure, lit by his men’s torches, Hall looked at Farren and made a mental note of the greedy gleam in his eyes, his opinion of the young man sinking still more. After a moment, he nodded. “Yes, you’re going to get both of the ladies we promised. As for the newly crowned Queen Phynis, we’ll see. I believe that our bargain was only regarding the other two.”
“Yes, but I was promised Phynis when I told you how to capture her!” Farren argued. “I thought that it’d be obvious!”
“We’ll discuss this after the city is dealt with, Mister Galthor,” Hall said flatly. “This is not the time or place to bargain on such things. The situation has changed, and we are going into battle, so kindly be helpful or stay out of the way. Now, how close are we to the castle?”
“Fine.” Farren’s voice was like ground glass as he huffed, crossing his arms in front of himself. “We’re only about a mile outside of town, so we should be there fairly soon. The tunnel is about a mile and a half long.”
“Good,” Hall grunted, more pleased with the elf’s petulance than with his previous arrogance.
The remainder of the trip was mostly taken in silence, save for the rattle of his soldiers’ gear and the occasional murmurs. The supports were more solid as they progressed farther, and Hall frowned at some of the symbols. He’d been told that the tunnel was spelled to collapse if breached, but he wasn’t entirely certain what the enchantments actually did. That always made him uneasy.
Eventually he saw the tunnel widen, and the leading squad entered a large storage room with a vaulted ceiling made of finely fitted stones. There were a fair number of crates in the room, but it was kept mostly clear. With the three exits Hall could see, he assumed that the room was fairly highly trafficked. A panel had swung away from the wall to reveal the tunnel he emerged from, and Hall nodded in satisfaction as he stepped inside.
“See? I got you inside. Now you just have to do your part,” Farren told him, stepping to the side as he scowled at Hall.
“Yes, you did. And we’ll follow through, I’ll guarantee that much,” Hall replied with a nod.
“Damn it, Farren, I’d hoped that I was jumping at shadows.” Another voice broke the relative quiet, and an elven man in full plate stepped around the corner. Similar in height to Farren, his armor was plain save for the embossed griffon on green of Galthor. A scimitar was in his hand, and the man’s face was only barely visible past his visor. Frustration and sorrow were evident in his voice as he asked, “How could you betray me like this?”
As the man spoke, a dozen elven soldiers came around the corners of the other halls, the majority of them in gleaming heavy plate. Most elves didn’t favor heavy armor like that, as they usually focused on agility and precision, but a few did, which would make them more difficult enemies in the confines of a building, Hall realized grimly. There were mages behind them as well. Glancing sourly at Farren, Hall reflected on how readily the young man had pushed aside any possibility of his father being suspicious. This was going to be unpleasant, and his soldiers were quickly trying to ready themselves for what he was certain would erupt into a battle.
“Father, I—” Farren began, bewildered and shocked. Thomas Galthor interrupted first, though.
“Don’t even start, boy. I know you came down here on your own and led them inside,” the Baron replied, his voice growing calmer as he focused on Hall. “You, though, you’re a surprise. You must be one of the Justicars. You may have invaded Sifaren and besieged my lands, but I’ll give you the opportunity to surrender.”
“I think not,” Hall replied, drawing his sword as a deadly calm enveloped him. With every moment, more of his soldiers were reaching the room, making the odds more even. He still might die here, but he wasn’t going to lose confidence now, unlike the sniveling, shaking elven traitor next to him. “We both know you’d just execute me. Essan, cover my back and fight to the death.”
“Very well. Sekarth,” Baron Galthor spoke grimly, and with his words flashed just a hint of magic. An instant later the echo of an explosion came from behind Hall, echoing down the tunnel, followed by a series of additional explosions.
Hall spun in place, flinching as he saw one tunnel support after another exploding into a hail of wooden shrapnel that cut into some of his approaching soldiers. Many of them broke into a run to escape the carnage, but as he watched, the roof began to sag and the tunnel collapsed, burying many of his men alive. Turning back to the Baron, Hall’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice low. “You bastard, they never even had a chance in there.”
“Oh? How many villagers had a chance when your army sacked their homes? How many people have you enslaved without the ability to resist? I consider what I’ve done a wise choice, and a mercy, considering what Kelvanis has done to others.” The Baron raised his blade, holding the hilt in both hands. “Soldiers, advance!”
The elves began marching forward, their weapons out as the magi began weaving their spells. Hall’s surviving soldiers, only a little over two dozen strong, rushed forward with desperate war cries, a few of them firing their crossbows. Their handful of mages cast spells of their own, one of them creating a stone wall that blocked the easy advance of the soldiers on Hall’s left flank. Glancing at Farren, Hall spoke angrily. “If you want a chance to live, you’d best fight, brat.”
With that Hall rushed into the fight, spindling his mana and flooding it outward into his body. His magical art was rarely seen, as it was purely internal, and it allowed him to increase his strength, toughness, and speed, and had also helped him live much longer than others would have guessed without completely losing his physique. Age had weakened Hall, but he was still fairly strong.
That saved him in the opening clash as he took on three elven soldiers at once. Armed with sword and shield, the three were closely coordinated, trying to overwhelm him with their attacks. Blocking two attacks in close succession, Hall grunted as he let a blade skid off his armor with a screech. At that moment Essan attacked the man who’d landed the blow, driving him back and reducing the pressure on Hall.
Speaking under his breath, Hall began to mentally weave a spell of his own, teasing the lines of mana into shape as he blocked another attack, punching the third attacker to force her back. The second attacker snarled, rushing forward, and Hall sidestepped, taking advantage of the moment as he plunged his sword into a gap in the man’s armor. The woman screamed as her companion fell heavily, bleeding from his neck.
The woman rushed Hall, and the Justicar watched her come, still chanting under his breath. Deflecting her attack with his vambrace, Hall reached out and grabbed her helm just as he finished his spell. For an instant her eyes widened, then the lightning bolt surged from his hand and through her body
. The woman convulsed as the lightning sparked through her, then fell heavily, the stench of her scorched flesh filling the air.
As the woman fell to the ground with a clatter, Essan’s opponent fell back, bleeding heavily from several injuries. That was when the Baron and his guards stepped forward, and Hall only narrowly avoided the attack, the noble’s blade striking like a serpent and glowing a soft blue, almost freezing his skin with its passage.
“What, afraid to take me on alone?” Hall asked, back stepping quickly to get out of range of the other attackers. Essan jumped forward, attacking the Baron’s guards as Hall swallowed a curse. The man was probably trying to get himself killed! Still, Hall didn’t have time to concern himself with Essan, instead focusing on the Baron himself.
The elven lord almost danced forward despite his heavy armor, striking hard and fast as he replied calmly, “This is war, not a duel.”
“Fair point,” Hall conceded, deflecting the man’s attack again and ceding ground a pace. The other man was strong and fast, but even so, Hall had a few tricks left.
As he clashed with the Baron, Hall took an instant to take stock of the situation. As the Justicar lunged, driving his opponent back, he saw over half his men were down, which caused his lips to thin still more. Farren was still cowering behind him, which meant that the boy wasn’t going to be of any use. With a groan, Essan fell before the bodyguards, the elf unconscious or dead as he toppled to the ground, cinching Hall’s decision as he murmured, “Last resort it is.”
Thomas Galthor seemed surprised when Hall jumped backward, surging his mana toward his armor, spitting out the words he despised so much. “Lady Irethiel, I accept your offer. My service for strength.”
For an instant there was no reaction, then a flood of fire rushed through Hall’s body from the command sigil he bore. The fire merged with Hall’s mana to flood his armor, and a brilliant glow filled the room as his armor glowed such a bright crimson that it lit the room. The Baron fell back, his voice filled with shock. “What in the name of the gods?”
Hall couldn’t answer him, the fire turning to intense pain as his muscles twisted and reshaped themselves, his skin melting into the armor, and the armor turning into his skin. Hall felt strength surge through him with the pain, his body growing stronger with every passing moment, and a blast of heat exploded from either side of him as infernal portals opened and two allies stepped through.
As the portals snapped shut again, one of the women spoke in a husky voice, and Hall glanced at them in surprise. “Our Lady sends us to aid you, Justicar.”
Both women were succubi, with exaggerated figures, bat-like wings, and long prehensile tails, but unlike most succubi he’d seen, they weren’t dressed to seduce. These two were wearing strangely segmented armor that shone like black chitin, hugging their bodies with a sinister beauty. The blonde on the left was wielding a deadly-looking spiked whip, while the brunette had a rapier. Even more surprising was that he recognized the two. The speaker was the blonde, Vivian, and she was one of the Enforcers that had been sent to capture Medaea, then given to Irethiel. If they were here, that meant their corruption was complete.
“You’re consorting with demons in truth? I thought that was but a foul rumor,” the Baron spat, steadying himself. “I see that I still thought too highly of you! I’ll—”
Vivian lashed out with her whip, the length flaring with fire as it interrupted the noble, striking his arm so hard that the plate caved in, and her voice was lazy as the sound of breaking bone echoed through the room. “Silence, mortal. Do not profane our ears with your sniveling. Shall we, Farin?”
The other woman giggled, smiling. “Definitely.”
Hall grunted, standing from where he’d been kneeling. Strength and confidence surged through him, the aches of his age vanished as though they’d never existed. It almost felt like he could challenge anything, and he smiled broadly. Tilting his head to crack his neck, he interrupted. “Wait. I want to see how I can do. I feel… much better. Closer to how I was in my prime. Not quite there, not yet, but…”
“As you wish, Milord,” Vivian murmured, taking a step back, her eyes flickering with disappointment. Farin didn’t step back, but didn’t attack either, watching Hall with obvious interest.
“Protect the lord!” one of the guards ordered, gathering together with the others. Around the room, all but two of Kelvanis’ soldiers had fallen, and even those two were falling back in shock, staring at Hall and the demons. Hall paid no attention to those two, instead focusing on the thirty elven guards. He smiled, smelling their fear… and attacked.
He rushed forward like lightning, his speed nearly double what it was before. The elves seemed so slow by comparison, and Hall laughed as he hit the man in the center with his shoulder charge, sending him flying backward and knocking another pair of guards off-balance. He swung his sword hard, cutting through the seam of another guard’s armor, taking her leg almost clean off and dropping her to the ground as he reached out and grabbed the last guard’s sword hand before he could begin swinging. As the woman began to scream, Hall murmured, “Too easy.”
The man whose hand he’d grabbed paled as Hall increased the pressure of his grip, struggling, then screaming as his hand was crushed. Letting go at last, Hall smirked as the man fell to his knees, sobbing in pain as his sword clattered to the ground. Looking at the astonished Baron, the Justicar spoke again. “I see. Go ahead, ladies. Obviously this’ll be easy now.”
Screams rang out behind him as the two succubi attacked, but Hall didn’t so much as blink, advancing on Thomas Galthor and his remaining guards, his voice calm. “I’m going to make this slow and painful, Baron. I’m going to drag every bit of information out of you, then you’re going to die.”
“I think not.” At that moment, another man stepped around the corner, his face like iron as he held up a crystal orb. The man threw the orb to the ground, where it shattered with an echoing chime and a flash of brilliant light. “My apologies, Milord, it took more time to retrieve these from the shrine than expected.”
The light and sound seared Hall, driving deep into his body like an awl, and he cried out, hearing the screams of the two succubi as well. Staggering backward and falling to his knees, he blinked away the pain, only to see his armor… no, his skin was sizzling as if it was on fire. He asked, dazed, “What? How did you…?”
“My lord was skeptical about the information that Kelvanis was allied with demons, so I thought it best to take measures of my own,” the man replied, and after a moment Hall recognized him as Captain Varthel Ansov. He was wielding a bow now, and the nocked arrow had a head of gleaming silver that glowed white. “That was a sanctification crystal. It will briefly render all demons vulnerable to death, even in the mortal world. With that and a few light-blessed arrows, even I can deal with you.”
“No! Not after everything I’ve—!” Hall snarled, struggling to stand back up. Ansov didn’t even blink, loosing his arrow directly into Hall’s chest. The arrow cleaved through his flesh with effortless, searing pain, and moments later, Hall’s sight went dark as the pain drove him unconscious for the last time.
The second succubus screamed as Captain Ansov fired the arrow into her chest, falling to the ground as it smoked and reduced the brunette to dust. He took a deep breath, scowling at the remaining soldiers of Kelvanis and Farren Galthor. There were additional survivors who’d been incapacitated, but they didn’t matter, the dozen injured of his own people hurt quite enough.
“Well, you can either surrender, or we can finish the job,” Ansov told them flatly.
After only a moment of hesitation, the two soldiers dropped their weapons, the higher ranking of the two speaking softly, shock in her eyes. “We’ll surrender. I swear, we had no idea about… about the Justicar being a demon.”
“Be that as it may, you invaded our homes. We’ll treat you better than you’d treat us, though,” the Baron grunted, moving forward with a wince. He nodded at Ansov, seeming chagrined. �
��Thank you, Captain. You saved us with your precautions.”
“Just doing my duty, Milord. You should get your arm looked at,” Ansov replied, looking at the dented armor in sympathy. “What do you want me to do with Farren?”
“Damned fool.” Thomas sighed, staring at the young man, who appeared completely frozen with the shock of what had happened. “Imprison him. We’ll try him when the siege is lifted.”
“As you command,” Ansov replied, and gestured forward some of the other soldiers.
At their approach, Farren recoiled, his voice unsteady as he protested. “N-no! Don’t touch me! I didn’t know what they were!”
“Save it, Farren,” Ansov growled, his eyes narrowing. “You chose to betray the city. At least show some dignity.”
“No! You can’t do this to me!” Farren lunged forward, only to be caught by the guards. As they dragged the screaming young man away, Ansov sighed, glancing at his lord.
Baron Galthor looked like he’d aged years in only a few hours. Still, at least they’d taken the heads of one of Kelvanis’ leaders. Looking at the spot where Justicar Hall had died, there was only a pile of half-rusted armor, dust, and a gleaming longsword, untouched by its owner’s corruption even now.
Chapter 22
“Queen Beryl, thank you for agreeing to speak with me,” Queen Calath said simply, looking into the mirror at the impassive, icy façade of Yisara’s ruler. Beryl Yisara was tall for her people and possessed an athletic figure, though she was still several inches shy of six feet. Her blue eyes glittered with an iron will Calath could admire, and she wasn’t wearing the usual regalia, instead dressed for battle, wearing chainmail, greaves, and vambraces, with a sword at her side. The only sign of her station was the simple presence circlet atop her tightly braided hair.
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