The party left King Alaric’s crypt, returning to the main part of the Highcliff Catacombs. The air was cool, and the only sounds were the soft echoes of their footsteps on the stone floor. Despite the disappointment of the Amulet, which Justin had already hidden under his linen shirt, it felt good to be finally moving on. Hopefully, they could escape without Lieutenant Gareth or his followers being any the wiser.
All were quiet as they followed Alistair up the wide spiral staircase just outside Alaric’s crypt. Strangely, the corpses and the Cultist’s body were gone. Was their desecration of the tomb merely a conjuring of the Vault itself? Justin couldn’t say. Certainly, the Amulet in his hand felt genuine enough.
It didn’t take long to ascend two levels, and upon turning, they entered a vast hall of white marble that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Alistair’s light spell pushed back the darkness effectively, revealing the Hall of Heroes mentioned by Alaric’s spirit. The walls were lined with ancient sarcophagi, many bearing the coat-of-arms of the soldier in question: A lion rampant, a stag and oak, a silver phoenix, among many more.
The air was laden with the scent of old stone and earth, mingled with the faint, musty odor of age. Dust lay thick on the floor and surfaces, while broken pots and urns evidenced grave robbers. Highcliff, a city in decline, could no longer protect its venerated dead, and Justin had the distinct feeling that most of the treasures had been stolen, Alaric’s amulet notwithstanding. In older and better times, the Catacombs would have been more well-lit and actively maintained by Clerics or priests. But as the city’s fortunes waned, so had the care for its ancient monuments. Like the great civilizations of Earth, these people had built their legacies, never imagining a time when there would be no one left to maintain them.
Plaques and murals adorned the walls, depicting scenes of epic battles, heroic deeds, and the faces of those who had fought valiantly for the kingdom in centuries past. Alistair’s light spell cast long shadows, and each step they took seemed to echo with the voices of the past.
As Justin passed the silent statues, though he never knew these soldiers, he felt a renewed determination to prove himself worthy of the Amulet. He’d never imagined himself to be a hero, but somehow, that was the way his story was shaping up. Courage, sacrifice, honor—all had been foreign concepts to him. But now, with some help and by sheer necessity, perhaps they were qualities he might one day embody, even if he was only a Socialite.
Eldrin seemed to note the detailed craftsmanship of the carvings. “Every hero has a story, though few of these are remembered today. And right now, each of us is writing our own story, one step at a time.”
To Justin’s surprise, Alistair didn’t shush him. Maybe with the disappearance of the Vault, it was safer to speak.
“Do you think the spirits of these heroes are still watching over Highcliff?” Justin asked, curiosity piqued. He would have thought the idea laughable in his own world, and yet not even an hour ago, he’d spoken to a ghost.
Alistair nodded thoughtfully. “In a way, yes. The deeds and sacrifices of the past shape the present. Their spirits inspire us, reminding us of the values they fought for. We honor them by striving to uphold those ideals.”
Justin couldn’t help but feel that the heroes were watching over him, urging him onward. It was easy to believe certain things were impossible, but this very hall was a reminder that heroism could be found even in ordinary places. Perhaps even in a Socialite.
Maybe Justin couldn’t use a sword, wear heavy armor, or fight in a battle the way Alistair could, but he had his own personal fights. Like getting rid of the Death Mark.
The question became, though, what came after that? He couldn’t say. He supposed his next big goal should be to find a way home, but he didn’t know what was involved in that. Did he need to find another tornado? He remembered the blue portal that had brought him here. If one had brought him here, it stood to reason one could bring him back. Maybe it was as simple as finding that meadow west of Mistwatch on the next fall equinox.
He missed home. He missed his mother. He’d never gotten to figure out what had happened to her, and he felt a pang of guilt that these days, he hardly spared his old life a thought.
Every day, the past was slipping further and further away…
“Still thinking about the Amulet?” Lila asked.
Justin forced a smile. “Yeah, I guess.”
Lila smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll remove that Mark. You deserve to use that Amulet, and we’ll make sure it happens. We’re in this together.”
Justin nodded. “Thanks.”
The party continued through the Hall of Heroes in silence, the passage eventually ending at one last hero at the end of the hall. This statue stood twice as tall, its imposing figure dominating the space. The placard declared it was a representation of King Eldred the First, the First King of Highcliff.
The party paused for a moment to examine the statue.
Alistair looked at it admiringly. “He rebelled against the Shadow Empire nearly six hundred years ago. He’s not called the First simply because he’s the First King of Highcliff. He’s called the First since he was the first to stand up and declare Highcliff’s independence, inspiring others to do so as well. His reign did not last long. But if not for him, perhaps the Shadow Empire would never have fallen. It’s a lesson for us all.”
“What lesson?” Lila asked. “If you stand up, you’re the first to die?”
“Nay,” Alistair said. “Sometimes, all it takes is one good man, one brave deed, to change the course of history. The gods smile upon that. And now, the People of Highcliff will remember him as long as the city exists, and perhaps even beyond.”
Justin watched with a feeling akin to awe. The statue depicted Eldred in full armor, a great sword in one hand and a shield emblazoned with the Highcliff eagle in the other, his expression stern and resolute.
“End of the line?” Justin asked.
“Let me have a look,” Eldrin said.
The Ranger walked around the statue, finding a narrow crevice behind it. A rectangular recess could be seen in the darkness there, on which he pushed. Sure enough, the recess spun, a cloud of dust falling from above.
“Like clockwork,” he said with a smile.
“Let’s move on,” Alistair said.
They squeezed behind the statue and went through the recess, finding a narrow passage beyond, of simple stonework and no further adornment. The air was cooler here, carrying a faint draft from somewhere ahead. They followed the narrowing corridor until they reached a set of stone steps leading upward into the unknown.
Justin felt himself becoming nervous. This was the moment they’d been waiting for—emerging from underground. Would it be to safety or danger? Now that the Vault was gone, the catacombs were relatively safe. It was easy to imagine them hiding in here for a long time, if not for Baron Valdrik being able to sense Justin’s Mark.
Only time would tell what awaited them on the surface. Justin watched Eldrin closely, knowing that his Ranger’s Intuition would be key here.
Alistair led the way, his light spell casting a soft glow on the steps as they climbed cautiously. The air became noticeably cooler as they ascended, a sign that they were getting closer. Each step seemed to echo in the confined space.
After what felt like an eternity of climbing, they reached a simple stone door, cleverly disguised to blend in with the surrounding stone. The door was made of the same material as the walls, with intricate carvings mimicking the natural rock formations around it. Alistair pushed the door open, revealing a narrow exit that led outside. Sunlight flooded in, momentarily blinding Justin.
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The party emerged onto a hillside, Justin’s eyes taking a moment to adjust to the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the forested landscape. The cool breeze was a welcome change from the stale air of the catacombs; the temperature had dropped significantly since their time underground. Justin was thankful for his new coat.
The leaves of the forest were changing, many already yellow and red, some even borne by the wind. From their vantage on the hill, Justin could see the northern countryside, a mix of rolling hills and woodlands, with the foothills of the Umber Range to the northeast. Nearby, the ruins of a disused watchtower stood sentinel, a relic of a bygone era. The view was breathtaking, yet the sight of the ruins brought a sobering reminder of the impermanence of all things.
Alistair slammed the door shut behind them, and Justin marveled at how well it blended in. There was no chance that the Baron’s men could find this, even if they were trying.
“We must keep moving,” Eldrin said, his voice low and urgent. “Shadowflight should be returning soon with information.”
They headed downhill and into the thick of the trees. Looking behind, there was no sign of Highcliff; the hills blocked Justin’s view. All was quiet as they blazed a trail through the forest, the ground giving way underfoot to Eldrin’s guidance.
It seemed that they had made it, but Justin wouldn’t rest easy until they were a few days out from Highcliff with no sign of pursuit.
As they traveled northwest, Eldrin’s sharp eyes scanned the area, sticking to the bases of the hills. They’d walked about a half-mile when the Ranger held up a hand and crouched, signaling the others to do likewise.
Justin kneeled, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he simply watched Eldrin’s gaze, which was focused on the sky.
Moments later, Shadowflight appeared, circling above before swooping down to land on Eldrin’s arm. The bird’s urgent movements conveyed an obvious message: trouble was coming.
“The Baron’s men are close,” Eldrin said, his voice tense. “They expected us to come out this way. They must’ve figured out where the secret passage came out.”
Alistair frowned. “How long do we have?”
“Minutes, maybe,” Eldrin replied quietly. “We need to decide our next move, and fast. We can’t hope to outrun them.”
“Why not?” Justin asked. “They don’t know we’re here yet, do they?”
“They know nothing, but they’ve guessed correctly. If we go forward, we’ll run into them. Go west, and we’ll reach the River Marin, which is too wide for us to cross before they catch us. The hills are too steep to climb effectively.”
The party exchanged glances, the gravity of the situation settling in. The thought of being captured, especially with the Amulet of Equilibrium in their possession, was unthinkable. They needed a plan, and they needed it quickly.
The party quickly gathered in a tight circle, their faces grim.
“We need to find some high ground,” Lila suggested. “Eldrin can ambush them with his new bow. I can come at them with my knives. Alistair, you can draw their attention.”
The Paladin was already shaking his head. “It won’t be enough, Lila. Now, you must remember your vows to follow my every order. I want no arguments.”
The others were silent, waiting for Alistair to speak. Justin’s heart raced.
“The best chance for us to escape is to split up. Eldrin, you lead Justin and Lila west toward the Umber Range. You’ll be able to cross the river and lose yourselves in the woods if I can give you enough time.”
Eldrin nodded, his face set with determination. “The terrain is rough, but it’s our best shot.”
Justin shook his head. “Alistair, you can’t mean this. What are you supposed to do?”
As Alistair met his gaze, a calm resolve in his eyes, Justin already knew the answer. “I can handle them, Justin. My only job is to buy you time. Eldrin knows these lands and the way to Mont Elea. The most important thing is to keep you safe and out of the Baron’s hands.”
Justin frowned, frustration bubbling up. “Why am I so important? What’s going on that you’re not telling me?”
Alistair hesitated, then shook his head. “There’s no time, Justin. Just know that the Baron wants you for a reason, and we can’t let him get his hands on you. Now go, before it’s too late.”
Lila opened her mouth to argue further, but Eldrin placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Alistair knows what he’s doing. We need to trust him.”
Justin took off the Amulet, thrusting it at Alistair. “Take it, Alistair. You’ll need it more than me.”
“Run, you fools,” Alistair said, his voice a low growl. “Or all this will have been for naught.”
At that moment, Justin saw something movement in the trees, downslope from where they were.
As much as he hated it, the Paladin was right. He would buy them time. Hopefully, enough to escape.
Justin couldn’t imagine him dying. He didn’t know what he’d do without him.
“Stay safe,” Alistair urged, looking each of them in the eye. “Stick together and keep moving.” Alistair’s sharp blue eyes settled on Justin last of all. “You’ve come so far already—don’t let this setback define you. Keep going, for all of us.”
With that, he stood and walked downhill, hammer in hand, doing nothing to hide his presence. Eldrin waited a moment, keeping his palm outward to signal them not to move. Justin wondered why they weren’t moving yet until he realized Eldrin wanted to make sure Alistair had all the enemy’s attention first.
“Now,” Eldrin said.
Eldrin, Lila, and Justin turned and started heading west, crouching low and moving swiftly. Before they lost sight of him completely, Justin turned, glimpsing Alistair on one knee, saying a quick prayer, even as Gareth and his men were advancing toward the high ground he’d picked out. The Paladin’s faith would have to be his anchor, giving him strength and resolve.
Justin realized Alistair wasn’t afraid to die; he was determined to hold the line and buy as much time as possible for the others, as a true Paladin should.
The Paladin’s words echoed in his head. All it takes is one good man, one good deed, to change the course of history.
It wasn’t long before the sounds of battle echoed off the hills. The clashing of steel and the shouts of men filled the air. Justin’s stomach twisted with worry, the reality of their situation weighing heavily on him. The Umber Range was now in sight, the forest ahead promising cover and safety…as long as they got enough of a head start.
As they ran through the trees, the gravity of the situation hit him in full force. Despite Alistair’s words, Justin knew this would probably be his last stand.
----------------------------------------
Alistair stood firm as Lieutenant Gareth approached up the hill. The Paladin had chosen a sunny spot, knowing it would weaken the undead Shadowblade. And yet, possessing a level above twenty meant Gareth likely had some resistance to sunlight. It certainly didn’t seem to slow him down as he approached in his dark armor, his eyes cold and calculating.
Flanked on either side were more soldiers, an assortment of warriors and mages, about twenty in all. Half bore the stench of fully realized Death Marks, while the others were still mortal, loyal to Morvath by choice. The air seemed to grow colder as they neared, the oppressive presence of Gareth and his retinue casting a pall over the hillside. Alistair felt the weight of their malice, like a dark cloud settling over him.
He glanced around, taking in the scene—sunlight dappling through the sparse trees, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the distant cry of a bird. It was a beautiful fall day. Alistair’s heart ached, knowing this might be the last time he saw such simple beauty. The Creator was truly good.
He thought briefly of Justin, Lila, and Eldrin, praying they were far enough away by now. The gods were watching over them; he had to believe that.
He tightened his grip on his hammer, feeling its familiar weight. There was no way he could survive this, but he could delay Gareth and his soldiers long enough for the others to escape. He drew a deep breath, centering himself in the light of Arion, God of Power.
Alistair’s voice rang out clear and steady, a challenge and a warning.
“That’s close enough, Lieutenant,” Alistair said. “In the name of Arion, tread not another step further, lest you wish to taste my hammer.”
Gareth’s smile widened, a cold and mirthless expression. “This need not come to blows, Sir Alistair. The Baron only wants the boy.”
“He won’t have him. So long as I draw breath.”
Gareth’s eyes gleamed with a sinister light. “Oh, you won’t be for too much longer, I assure you. You are a foolish man, Alistair. Why die for the likes of him?”
Alistair felt a surge of anger. “Your master didn’t tell you?”
“He did. I’m the only man he trusts to bring the boy to him completely unspoiled.”
“You’re not a man, Gareth. Not anymore.”
Gareth chuckled, the sound devoid of warmth. “It irks you to see me more powerful than you ever could be. Those prattling Priests of Arion have nothing over the power of Death.”
“You are a traitor, a thief, and a heretic,” Alistair retorted. “You left the Templars because you craved power and glory, no matter the cost. You sold your soul to darkness.”
Gareth’s expression darkened. “Typical take for a Life-loving fool.”
Alistair glanced at the soldiers behind Gareth, noting their unease. “If you wish to prove the power of Death, why not a duel? Life against Death. We are of a similar level, Shadowblade, so the fight would be fair.”
Gareth laughed openly, the sound echoing across the hillside. “Do you take me for a fool, Alistair? I see now what you’re doing. You would speak and speak until the sun falls, and the moon rises over us all. Even knowing the night would make me even more powerful. Your aim is not to defeat me, but to slow me down.”
“You were never known for your Intellect, Gareth.”
Gareth’s smile faded, replaced by a sneer. He drew his long, curved blade, a weapon that seemed to absorb the surrounding light. Alistair could feel its coldness, the chill of the grave, and smell the stench of Gareth’s Death Mark, full realized, wafting toward him. The other soldiers drew their weapons.
“You will not be speaking much longer,” Gareth said, his voice low and dangerous. “Morvath take your soul!”
With a roar, Gareth shot forward, fast as a shadow cast by a setting sun. Alistair raised his hammer, perhaps for the last time. If this was the end, he would make it count. He felt no fear—only a deep, abiding peace.
It was up to the gods now.