“I suggest Overlord Balzal that you present your people with your father’s body and inform them of your challenge for his title.” The Goddess circled the new ruler of Gravosai seductively. She handed him the scroll with the maps of Verda’s southlands, where Illian and Ayda met. “Lead my army across Drowners Run and reap your rewards.” She turned to address Overlord Kett as well. “You leave for the Hook of the World at first light. You may camp there before crossing Drowners Run, but I want you in Illian before Paldora’s star crosses the night sky.”
The Goddess made for the door as everyone bowed. Krenorak dragged Balgora’s dead body across the floor and dumped it unceremoniously at Balzal’s feet. The beast grunted and continued to follow the Goddess out of the chamber.
Gideon picked up the spinning top and replaced it in his satchel. They sat back from the balcony rail and looked to one another with revelation in their eyes. The Darkakin were going to war with Illian. Adilandra tried to take comfort in the fact that Balgora was right; no Darkakin had stepped foot beyond Syla’s Gate in a thousand years. Even if it wasn’t being fortified by elf or man, the impenetrable gate and its high walls would keep them out of Illian.
“We need to warn the six kingdoms,” Gideon said. “We need to get word to Karath, in The Arid Lands. They can send soldiers to hold Syla’s Gate.”
“One problem at a time,” Adilandra replied calmly.
“I suggest we follow the big one back to his chambers and find Lörvana,” Galanör offered. “We can always find our way back to the Goddess’s chambers, but we might never find Lörvana in this maze.”
“Agreed.” Adilandra motioned for them to follow her, as she climbed down into the meeting room. She noted Gideon taking the spare Darkakin map of Verda off the floor and folding it into his satchel.
Following Krenorak’s heavy footsteps was easy enough in the quiet of the pyramid. Security inside the palace was more rigid than the milling around that took place outside. Guards were posted periodically along the straight corridors, often at corners to offer a vantage. More than once was Gideon forced to use magic to lure the guards away, until Galanör and Adilandra could strike from the shadows. Opening the first portal had been taxing, but nothing the queen couldn’t handle. Planning for their escape however, Adilandra refrained from using magic and relied on her physical talents and elven superiority.
Ultimately, it proved to be her nose that found Krenorak’s place of slumber. His unique smell of death and shit was impossible to miss after they descended to the next level of the pyramid. Adilandra blamed that particular smell on the reason why she didn’t take note of the Darkakin warrior, rounding the corner behind them. Luckily, it was Gideon who reacted first, whipping out Abigail’s wand and hitting the man with a spell strong enough to render him immediately unconscious. Showing even more genius, the mage had cast an enchantment that stopped the Darkakin from flying into the wall and giving their position away; instead the warrior flew silently and slowly backwards, through the air, until Gideon crept over and carefully placed the body on the cold floor.
Galanör placed his body against Krenorak’s door and used his keen senses to detect any movement inside. Adilandra knew that the elf could discern vibrations in the wood and use it to pinpoint the giant’s location. A dreaded realisation erupted across Galanör’s face, but it was too late, even for his reactions. Adilandra jumped back, seeing the impending danger, as the wooden door exploded into splinters. Two arms, as thick and tough as any tree, shot through the door first and picked Galanör up. Adilandra could only watch, when the rest of the hulking Darkakin followed his arms and continued to charge Galanör into the room opposite his own. The door to that room didn’t hold under their impact, and caved, with Krenorak coming down on top of the elf.
Adilandra moved to help when a faint whimper rang out from within Krenorak’s room. The queen couldn’t help but be drawn into that sound. Lörvana, who had been by her side for so long, Lörvana who had faith in her, Lörvana who had been promised she would see home again... Adilandra had to help her.
“Go!” Gideon instructed. “I’ll help Galanör.”
And help the elf would need. Adilandra could already hear the angry voices coming from inside the room they had entered, though barracks would be a better word.
Inside Krenorak’s room, the queen quickly scanned every corner in search of possible threats. The sight of Lörvana gave her pause. The poor elf hung limply in the arch between the giant’s bed chamber and living quarters. Her hands were roughly bound and looped over a thick hook screwed into the sandstone. There wasn’t an inch of her body that hadn’t been beaten, cut or burnt by Krenorak. Pools of blood collected across the floor beneath the elf, some old, some fresh.
“What have they done to you?” Adilandra whispered.
The queen placed a delicate hand on Lörvana’s swollen cheek and poured her magic into the broken bone. Lörvana opened her eyes, as her mouth took shape again and the swelling disappeared. Tears formed in both of their eyes, relief mixed with disbelief in Lörvana’s, anger and deep sadness in Adilandra’s.
“My queen...” The words barely left her dry lips.
“Hush now.” Adilandra drew her scimitar and expertly cut the binding rope. Lörvana fell into her arms as dead weight, her bare feet slipping in the blood. “I’m taking you home. You’re safe now.” Adilandra repeated the words over and over again, taking Lörvana’s arm and hooking a hand around her ribs.
“Fallön...” Lörvana said from beneath her matted hair.
“We’re going to find him too. We’re all going home now.” Adilandra stopped when she saw Lörvana’s elven sword mounted on the wall, another trophy for Krenorak.
Galanör had lost his sense of what was up and what was down. Krenorak threw the elf round the room like a ragdoll, smashing him into other Darkakin, tables, chairs, hammocks, walls and even the ceiling. All the while, Galanör continued to beat the big man around the head, knocking off his skull-mask and laying into his deformed face. The big man had no nose and no upper lip, torn off by the looks of the ragged skin left behind.
Elven strength did nothing to persuade the giant Darkakin to release Galanör. Every now and then he was forced to kick out with a leg and push back an attacking guard, determined to stab him in the back. The barracks was a mess now, littered with bodies brought down by the rampaging Krenorak and Gideon’s staff. The mage waded in without a hint of fear, though Galanör was only partially aware of the human’s actions.
The sound of magic, being discharged in every direction, punctuated the air. Lightning, fire and ice exploded from Gideon’s staff, striking the Darkakin before they could reach Galanör. It wasn’t enough to stop Krenorak, who had been hit twice in the back by fireballs and once in the leg by lightning. Smoke poured off the big man as he pushed Galanör through the external wall and back into the corridor.
Krenorak shifted his hold on the elf and locked his hands together, behind Galanör’s back. Then he squeezed. The elven warrior couldn’t even shout out, as the man’s mighty arms coiled around his ribs, a python ensnaring its prey. Galanör couldn’t decide what pained him more, the air being forced from his lungs or his ribs slowly cracking. The elf decided to strike Krenorak with a more concise attack and gave up on trying to prise himself free.
Galanör arched his back as much as possible, bringing his arms out as wide as he did. Krenorak snarled and growled, the veins in his arms protruding like worms. The elf brought his hands back together with enough force to break the skull of an ordinary human. The palms of his hands clapped around the giant’s ears, discombobulating the big man instantly. Galanör dropped to the floor in a spluttering mess, his legs unable to hold him, while he regained his breath. Krenorak stumbled and wobbled on the spot, before he fell into the wall and dropped to one knee, utterly dazed.
“Get up!” Gideon shouted through the hole in the wall.
Through blurry eyes, Galanör looked on as the mage twirled and whipped his staf
f around, cracking skulls and breaking bones with every blow. Every two strikes were followed by a spell that wrought devastation amongst the ranks of the Darkakin. As his elven senses returned, Galanör heard the unmistakable sound of bare feet running through the pyramid’s halls.
More were coming.
Adilandra emerged from Krenorak’s chamber with Lörvana limping by her side. The elf had clearly been tortured for many days. Galanör had never met Lörvana before, but seeing her broken body still infuriated him. He staggered to his feet, keeping one eye on Krenorak, and glanced back inside the barracks.
“Gideon?” Adilandra asked with concern.
“He’s on top of it.”
At that moment, two Darkakin warriors flew out of the jagged hole and into the hallway behind them. One was partially on fire, while the other looked to have been beaten with a large stick.
The running footsteps were now accompanied by angry shouting. The pyramid’s entire complement of warriors was rushing up to meet the intruders.
“Run,” Galanör quickly instructed. “Find Fallön and kill that venomous bitch.”
Gideon strode out of the barracks with his staff in hand, blood staining both ends. The mage had received his fair share of blows and wore his cuts and bruises with pride. In truth, Galanör was impressed. Gideon gave Krenorak a wide berth, who was still holding his meaty head in his hands.
“Go with them and rescue Fallön,” Galanör said to Gideon. The elf kept his eyes on the corridor behind them and the growing noise of the approaching mob.
“They have a better chance if this lot doesn’t catch up with them,” Gideon replied stubbornly. “I’ll stay with you, if it’s all the same.”
There was no time to argue and Galanör knew it was the mage’s decision to make. “So be it.” He turned back to Adilandra and Lörvana. “Go, now! If we all survive, then we’ll meet at the eastern edge of the city.” He could see Adilandra hesitate to leave them behind, even the human. “Whether you like it or not, you are my queen. I will be damned if I let you die in this gods-forsaken place. Go now, Adilandra, or this will all be for naught.”
The group of Darkakin rounded the corner and filled the hallway from wall to wall. The sounds they made were closer to animals than human. Krenorak was starting to crawl up the wall again now, regaining his sight and hearing.
“Take this.” Adilandra handed Galanör an elven scimitar, one-handed like his own. “Give them a reason to fear elven steal...” The queen cupped his cheek affectionately and met his eyes one last time, before taking Lörvana away from the mob.
Galanör didn’t watch them leave, but instead turned to face the Darkakin. He rotated the scimitars in his hands, feeling for their unique weight and balance together. They were more than enough for what needed to be done. Gideon pulled tight on his fingerless gloves and stood his staff on-end, by his side. His dark curly hair was matted to his skin and dripping with sweat.
The Darkakin halted their charge halfway down the corridor and formed a rough line, as they bared their teeth and raised their swords, spears and clubs.
“Are you ready for this, boy?” Galanör asked the mage.
“My count’s higher than yours.” Gideon indicated the fallen Darkakin strewn across the floor between them and the mob. “And don’t call me ‘boy’.”
Galanör smiled wickedly. Cocky was better than afraid, though he suspected some of it was a mask to conceal his true feelings.
“Never stand still.” Galanör called on his own training. “Keep moving and use the reach of the staff to your advantage.”
“You want to see the reach of my staff?” Gideon exploded into movement and launched his staff out in front of them.
The Darkakin charged at the same time the mage unleashed an icicle the size of a spear. The needle-tipped icicle cut through the middle of their ranks and continued along its trajectory, until it had sliced through six warriors and finally impaled a seventh to the wall.
The shock was enough to slow their charge and allow Galanör a moment to leap into the fray, unscathed. His dark cloak billowed behind him when both scimitars came down hard, with unstoppable speed, and killed a Darkakin each by splitting their torsos open. The elf immediately crouched low and, avoiding the inevitable slashing of swords, angled his blades out wide as he came back up. Adding a twirl to his efforts, Galanör decapitated two more Darkakin and severed the arm of another.
Gideon’s staff swung around the mage in a blur, before it slammed into the chest of the one-armed man, sending the Darkakin flying into the group behind him. Both elf and man worked in tandem with Galanör hacking and slashing, pivoting and rolling, while Gideon fired spell after spell into the crowd, constantly using his staff to parry attacks. Galanör jumped off the wall with grace and agility honed over four centuries, and cut four Darkakin down, one after another. More often than not, his elven blades sliced right through their parry, breaking their weapon, and diving deep into their bodies.
Fire erupted along the far wall when Gideon let loose a torrent of flames. The hall broke out in agonised screams and the smell of burning flesh. Galanör was forced to cut several warriors down before their burning bodies touched him. Their numbers continued to swell with more Darkakin joining the fight, but it made no difference to the elf, for as long as he wielded two blades of such fine make, there was not an army that could stand against him.
An alarm rang out in Galanör’s mind when he realised Krenorak was no longer in the corridor. His hulking form was hard to miss, even amid the chaos of so many combatants. Galanör’s alarm soon turned to fear when he thought of where the giant might go in favour of such a fight.
Adilandra approached the Goddess’s chamber with caution. There were no guards blocking her way and the double doors were open. Lörvana did her best to keep up, however the elf was unable to conceal her footsteps as the queen did. Adilandra had given her a knife, but knew that she was in no state to use it.
The chamber was as she remembered it. The large, square bed lay on the far side of the room, decorated in drapes. Torches lined the walls, casting stark shadows around the low tables and padded cushions. Adilandra looked to the wall where she had been chained for several nights. She wanted to set the entire chamber on fire and watch it burn.
“Tread lightly, elven queen,” the Goddess emerged from the shadows by her bed, “you have entered the dragon’s lair now.” Beside her was the Overlord known as Kett and her skinny servant Hyvark. “What were you going to do little elf, walk in here and take back your friend?”
As she spoke, Fallön stepped out of the shadows on her other side. He wore nothing but loose clothes around his waist, displaying his pale and malnourished body. His once beautiful eyes were dark pits against his prominent cheekbones. He made no attempt to escape or fight for his friends, but stood obediently by the Goddess. The potions he had been forced to ingest had left him nothing but a slave.
Lörvana gained some life at the sight of Fallön. Like Adilandra, she wanted to free him of the Goddess and kill them all. Adilandra felt the weight of her and knew she would be the only one fighting; Lörvana was too weak to even hold herself up. The queen gently placed her on the floor and stood between them.
“I was going to free them and escape, continue with my quest and find the dragons. Save Illian if I can, maybe all of Verda.” Adilandra squeezed the hilt of her glistening blade. “But now, I’m going to bring them here first. This city will burn whether we stop Valanis or not...”
“Kett, stop her from talking now.” The Goddess sounded bored.
Overlord Kett produced a smile of sharpened teeth and pulled free the double-handed meat cleaver from his back.
Adilandra didn’t wait for the cleaver, but instead leaped across the room in a single, powerful bound and brought her sword to bear. Kett moved as a snake, evading the strike with spinning acrobatics. It would be foolish to assume that he hadn’t achieved his position without some prowess. His skill was out-mastered by her own, howev
er. The queen deflected his blade, and brought her own, high enough to come down with the flat, golden pommel of her scimitar. The hilt broke his nose and sent him reeling into the wall, where his back caught a torch and burnt him.
That was when she missed it.
In the raucous, Krenorak had entered the chamber and picked Lörvana up from behind. His grip constricted her throat, turning her face from red to purple, as he lifted the elf off her feet. Kett took advantage of the distraction and lashed out with his cleaver. Adilandra’s elven reflexes saved her hand, but weren’t fast enough to prevent the wide blade from cutting her wrist, causing her to drop the scimitar. The Overlord followed up his attack with a swift fist to her face.
The queen of elves fell into the middle of the chamber, helpless between her friends and their captors. Lörvana screamed with rage, unleashing all the injustice done to her by the giant. With the knife in hand, she swung her arm up and back, into Krenorak’s face, driving the blade into his left eye until the hilt jammed. The giant Darkakin went stiff and his expression dropped, lifeless as the rest of his body.
Lörvana shrugged the beast off, dropping on top of him in a fit of rage and retrieving her knife. Again and again she plunged the blade into his chest, until Krenorak’s torso was a ragged hole.
Adilandra lay sprawled on the cold floor when a sharp pain dug into her shoulder. Impaled deep into her shoulder was a green, feathered dart, fired from the blow pipe in the Goddess’s possession. The toxin worked fast. The Goddess and Fallön were already becoming blurry and her muscles refused to move with any coordination. All the while, Lörvana continued to stab Krenorak’s dead body, oblivious to everything.
“Overlord, if you please...” The Goddess looked from him to Lörvana.
“No...” Adilandra’s plea sounded more a moan than a discernible word.
Kett strolled over to Lörvana, with his cleaver resting over his shoulders and a wicked smile displayed across his pale face. The elf didn’t even look back when the Darkakin Overlord swung his deadly blade. Lörvana’s head flew from her body and rolled over the floor, stopping before Adilandra’s poisoned body. Tears flowed from the elven queen’s eyes, faced with the decapitated head of her friend. She had just enough strength to stand up, though the soles of her feet were becoming numb.
Rise of the Ranger (Echoes of Fate: Book 1) Page 40