The appearance of the mountain grey garb of the Vigil was a surprise he’d not anticipated. They worked their way into the line of archers in small groups. The phrenics Ghen and Rhoane, both trusted members of Paelec’s scout troop, stood with bows ready in the front. Taq, the elementalist, the remaining member of the scout group, leaned against the stone railing. His chest heaved from the exertion. Slender flashes of lightning sparked from his tattooed right arm. Vox, in a similar pose of exhaustion, stood a few meters to his side.
Above the center of the Pining Gates, Ryl was unsurprised to see Fay. Lord Eligar’s typically jovial face, however, was wrought with a curious expression. His eyes darted from Ryl to the Horde, then back again. At the moment, the expressions he garnered were little of his concern. To Fay’s side, however, was a sight that made Ryl smile.
Andr stood, an arrow nocked, ready to fire.
The mercenary nodded as their eyes met. He tossed his bow to the nearest soldier, who filled his spot along the edge of the wall. He hastened to the rope ladder, swinging his leg casually over the railing as he began his descent.
The expressions from the varied contingent of soldiers manning the wall was telling. Guards from Cadsae Proper stood side by side with the troops from House Eligar. All manned the line, standing alongside the Vigil from Vim and the phrenics who occupied the center of the formation. A greater measure of space was granted to the unsettling cloaked warriors in their ranks.
Ryl rotated his head back to the Horde, watching for any sign of attack. From his location, his vision, though narrow between the wreckage of the remaining buildings, carried out into the Sea of Prosper. The thunderous reports that had echoed from the frigates in the harbor had settled. Most now moved with speed, catching the wind, fleeing from the doomed city. As far as their cannons were concerned, there were none left to defend.
The army of the king was still hidden behind a row of buildings to his left. None had joined the fray while the phrenics battled the Horde. Ryl considered them a lost cause. Most were likely too far gone, sons of nobility, stationed out of privilege, not prestige, not honor.
Ryl heard the slightly uneven cadence of familiar footsteps approaching from behind. He felt the glow of the phrenics converging on his position as well. The stony hand that gripped his shoulder sent a shiver down his spine.
He’d promised the phrenic councilor he’d see them all home.
Two phrenics and a pair of Vigil had died on his watch.
“I’m sorry, Paasek,” Ryl whispered, his voice wavering, though he tried to hide the emotion.
“You cannot blame yourself for things that were out of your control, my friend,” Paasek grumbled, though the hurt of loss stung his words. “The loss on all accounts is great, yet all knew the risks. From what I’ve seen inside the Erlyn Woods, you have succeeded in freeing the tributes from The Stocks. Reclaimed a few more from the processing facility as well.”
Ryl inhaled a deep breath, savoring the momentary clean air, free from the oppressive stench of the Horde.
“Thank you for coming.” Ryl’s heartfelt admission needed no additional emotion. “I fear you’ve doomed yourself for the cause.”
There was a commotion among the Horde. The intersection of the avenue with the Kingsway bristled with activity. The blackened bodies of the demons jostled as if pushed by an unseen force from the west. A solitary blast of a horn rolled over the city.
The tension that mounted amongst the Horde was palpable. The structure of the mindless killing machines was now simple. Among their own, they accepted strength. Among others, neither mercy nor justification were given.
“It seems that it’s not just the Horde who wish to see this through,” Andr said as he stepped up beside his friend. “Before you ask, the tributes are fine. Many were waking before we left. They should likely all be awake within a few days’ time. Nearly one thousand Vigil remain at their side.”
Ryl looked at his friend, reaching out and placing his hand upon his shoulder. The gesture was to have been more benign, more symbolic, yet he found his weight pressing down on the mercenary as he fought to maintain his balance.
Andr gritted his teeth under the added weight. He looked at Ryl with worried eyes.
“You don’t have to shoulder this burden on your own,” Andr assured him. “There are Vigil among the ranks, mixed in with Fay’s men, who fight for you as their own.”
Ryl cast a glance back to the wall, where Fay stood watching the proceedings.
“I’m sure he neglected to tell you in the commotion,” Andr mumbled. “You’ve been adopted into his house. Averine gifted a rather large holding to the young lord in your name. I supposed I should refer to you as ‘sir’ now.”
Ryl was astonished at the gesture. His vision traveled the top of the palisade, looking for a glimpse of his benefactor.
“I’ve benefited from his kindness far more than I already deserve,” Ryl muttered. Averine had given him a chance at life. He’d given him the initial push to start the cogs in motion that had led him to Da’agryn, to Andr and Fay. The path to the mountains, to the phrenics and to Kaep had followed. He’d never have viewed the wonders of the hidden city of Vim without the assistance of his previously unknown benefactor.
His thoughts were distracted as his focus was drawn to the south. The ringing of steel whined in his ears as both Andr and Paelec drew their swords again.
The rumbling movement resolved into the sounds of heavy boots stomping on the stone roadway. A new enemy approached. Commotion registered across
