When, at last, it returned to Asher’s view, there was no sign of Athis or Malliath, nor their Riders. The main doors were blowing wildly in the wind.
They must have gone inside, Avandriell considered, her bronze head searching the black sky as she came in to land. You must go after them, she insisted.
Asher climbed down to stand beside his companion. You can’t go back up there, Avandriell. With or without me, you’re not powerful enough to face Malliath.
Avandriell arched her neck and puffed out her hardened chest, adopting the most regal of stances. Learn this lesson, Ranger, and learn it well, she said, leaning down to bring her golden eyes to his face. You can’t stop me.
Asher was taken aback having expected her to spout some nugget of wisdom passed down from Thessaleia. Taking advantage of his surprise, Avandriell bounded away and leapt back into the sky.
“Avandriell!” he cried aloud, his face turned up into the rain.
Go, Asher, she urged. You have your fight and I have mine.
The ranger growled as he pulled free his two-handed broadsword. If you survive, I might just kill you myself…
Deep in the bowels of The Bastion, a place that had long been kept by the dead, Vighon Draqaro slammed into a wall as he tried to navigate the corner at speed. With his shield between him and the stone, the northman pushed himself off and renewed his mad dash to escape the horde of Darklings.
Not far in front, Reyna and Nathaniel led the way through the labyrinth, their swords lashing out left and right as Darklings burst from the side passages. Vighon held his shield out in front of him and rammed his way through a pair that emerged to separate him from Nathaniel. Their rotten skulls cracked and twisted out of shape but, even knocked to the floor, the Darklings didn’t give up their savage attack.
Vighon gave a sharp yell as one gripped his ankle and brought him down. He instinctively kicked out and put a boot in what remained of one of their faces. It didn’t free him of its grip but it stopped the fiend from biting his leg. The second Darkling scurried across the floor and leapt for the king, its bony fingers sharpened to points. The sword of the north flashed from up to down, its fiery blade of silvyr slicing the Darkling in two.
The other Darkling, the one intent on taking a chunk out of his leg, was clawing its way back to him. Vighon would have prepared himself to vanquish the creature but, unlike the Darkling, he could see what was coming. Sir Borin the Dread brought his large boot down on its head, and nothing remained between his foot and the stone floor.
“Vighon!” Nathaniel shouted from further down the passage, his eyes looking beyond Sir Borin.
The northman quickly picked himself up and saw the incoming Darklings scrambling over each other to reach them. “Pick up your feet, Sir Borin!” With the Golem thundering behind him, the king ran after the Galfreys.
Reyna was waiting for them at the next corner. The elf nodded for them to continue after Nathaniel as she brought her bow to bear, an arrow nocked on the string. The enchanted weapon launched the arrow with enough force to reach the far end of the passage, where Vighon had slammed into the corner. On its way, the missile burst open a dozen Darklings, reducing them to rotten debris. Yet still their numbers swelled from every passage until the undead were crawling along the walls and ceiling.
“Go!” Reyna shouted, nocking another arrow with great speed.
This time, she didn’t aim for the Darklings. The arrow went high and struck the ceiling a few feet in front of the horde. Vighon felt the explosion rock the fortress while his ears were overwhelmed by the sound of the passage collapsing on itself under tons of stone. He came to a halt after reaching Nathaniel and the pair turned around to see Reyna emerge from the dust.
“That’s only bought us some time,” she said. “They’ll find another way through to us.”
“Any idea where Galanör and Aenwyn are?” Nathaniel asked, his chest heaving.
Vighon shook his head. “We got separated when the Darklings came through that wall,” he told them.
A sudden noise echoed from further up the passage. Reyna was aiming her bow before Vighon had even taken his eyes from her.
“We can’t stay here,” Nathaniel stated gravely.
“We should ascend to The Bastion’s upper levels,” Reyna suggested.
Vighon wasn’t going to protest. “You know your way around here better than I do - lead the way.”
Nathaniel eyed the towering Golem. “Perhaps he should take the lead. Just in case.”
The northman agreed. “Sir Borin,” he began, gesturing down the passage. “You will lead us that way.”
Behind the Golem’s thundering steps, the trio began their journey up through The Bastion. Shrieks and howls reverberated through the fortress and, here and there, they even heard the clash of swords. They quickly surmised that, somewhere in the maze of black stone, Galanör and Aenwyn were fighting Reavers. Try as they might, however, they could never locate the source of these sounds.
“This is useless,” Vighon fumed, turning down another empty hall. “We just have to survive up here while all of our forces are fighting for their lives in the valley. We should be down with them if we can’t face Alijah. And who knows how that battle is going,” he added with a quick nod at the ceiling.
“We have no choice in the matter,” Reyna whispered. “Alijah has proven adept at anticipating our moves.”
Leaving Sir Borin to continue walking, Vighon stopped in the passage and turned to face the elven queen. “Where are we even going? Nowhere in here is—”
The king’s last word was stolen from him, drowned out by an almighty crack of stone as the wall ahead was blown in. Behind that force was Malliath the voiceless. His horned head forced its way into the The Bastion in
