Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen
Forgotten Farewells
Michael caught up with his taskforce at the end of the tunnel as they came to a stop before a rusted, iron ladder, stretching to a hatch above.
The ground shook and the roars of the beasts above were muffled through the soil as more rocks and clumps of dirt sputtered from the ceiling.
Jack stepped onto the ladder and began hauling himself up.
One by one they followed him, making their way closer and closer to the rumble of their doom, doing their best to ignore the sounds they couldn’t quite distinguish. Triumph, sorrow, pain, and courage. It all sounded the same beneath the soil.
Jack’s shield clattered against his armour as he neared the highest rung and his helmet, hanging from his blet, clicked every time it shifted. He tried not to wear it unless he was in the fight or about to be. It was a code of the Riniglacian Javen-warriors to don their armour only in the taking of life or the preservation of it. Jack reserved that rule only for his helmet since he practically slept in the rest, guiltily aware of how upset it would make his ancestors.
A sheet of pasture was layered over the trapdoor overhead, trickling soil and grass as he touched it. It was overgrown and the wood was rotted, falling apart in places. He head up the trapdoor just enough to see out, and a slice of light filled the tunnel. He bent his neck down to the others.
“Last chance to go back,” his voice echoed, faintly muted by the sounds of carnage.
At the bottom of the ladder, Michael’s voice echoed, “Fat chance.”
Nichole mumbled, “Maybe next time,” giving a tired smile.
Rose shrugged and turned awkwardly. “I would but Michael’s in the damn-way...”
Jack sighed and said, “I’m serious, guys.”
Sidney sighed beneath him, shaking her head. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“Be it Riinin Enthall, the Dark Lands, or the Malankin getting trapped in your body when you die type-shit... we’ll follow you, lad. To any end,” said Karmine, in a low, harmonious voice. “Now, hurry up, my arms are getting sore.”
Jack ripped through the layer of topsoil and crept quietly up onto the valley floor, staying low in the tall grass. They were closer to the hillside than he’d imagined, managing to sneak under Nikereus’ entire array and come up behind the right-most command tent.
As the others came up too, the scarred, young man drew his mace and shield, glancing to the pavilion directly ahead. “That one was empty, right?” Jack whispered to Michael as he pulled himself out of the tunnel.
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“That’s what Carter said.” Michael softly closed the trapdoor, and stuck an arrow in the ground beside it, so they could find it again.
They took off at a nimble sprint, mounting the low edge of the hills as they made their way toward the central command-tent.
Nichole glanced to the fortress in the near distance, wondering where Aroha was and if she was safe. Of course, she’s not safe, she muttered in her head. Nichole firmed her grip on her bow and said to Michael as they ran, “Have you had any visions recently?”
Michael shook his head. “I tried using it when Carter got captured and it nearly floored me. I haven’t been sleeping for the past couple days either, so I haven’t really had the chance. Not that the dream-based-ones are very helpful anyway.”
Though he had a handful of excuses, and there was truth to them, Michael had been somewhat avoiding it. His visions were like migraine-born-nightmares. They happened when he least wanted them to, left him feeling hollow with pain, and just uncertain enough that it could be a bog-standard nightmare or genuinely the miserable end to a short life.
And another part of him, however embarrassed he was to admit it, was let down. When Oliver had needed him most, Michael’s power didn’t help- it actively led to his near-death. And now, every time he thought about using prophecy to aid himself, he merely wondered what unseen arrow would catch his blind side.
They kept up their pace and grew nearer to the low hills behind the central command tent. Lying high in the slope was the crevice from which Nikereus’ army had passed through, dark and slitted, like the waking eye of some old god. The grass around it for nearly fifty feet was deal and black.
The armies of Nikereus pushed closer and closer to the moat, but their rear-ranks were only a few hundred feet away. It would only take one Obthraie glancing backward to alert their commander. Luckily for them, they seemed ravenous to break through the bowed gates.
The company finally slowed down as they came within thirty feet of the black-canvas pavilion at the heart of the array.
Jack held out his shield and mace in a sharp stopping motion to the others. He shook
his head, glancing to the distracted army and the unguarded tent. “I don’t like this. It shouldn’t be this easy.”
Nichole frowned and looked to the others, all falling into the same line of thinking until she muttered, “Maybe it’s a trap.”
Michael pursed his lips, very aware that Carter likely felt the same way before he was nearly killed. There wasn’t even a single guard within three-hundred feet of the tent. “Agreed, something’s not right, we need to... to sort something else out.”
Jack planted his mace in the soil and cursed.
Sidney glanced to him, and said harshly, “People are dying Jack. Going back won’t stop this!”
As she said those very words, two Mountain Wolves slammed into the main gates, forcing out an array of screams from the Legacies within while the wounded steel groaned and settled again.
They looked in horror as the bent gates were so inwardly warped that they could see into the actual forum itself, and Nikereus’ army exploded in vicious shouts of triumph as another Mountain Wolf lined up.
Nichole nocked an arrow and shrugged. “So be it.”
Jack squinted in surprise at Nichole. “You’d walk into something like that?”
“You know, Jack, I would. I would, because this isn’t about us. It’s not about you and me. It’s not about Michael or Sidney or Rose or Karmine, it’s about everyone on the other side of those walls counting on us. This is what we came to do, and we’re going to do it, because there is nothing else to do and no one else to do it. That gate will crumble before we could even make it back. This, right here... this is it.” Nichole took a tearful breath and looked to every one of the Legacies before here, standing in awe. Then Nichole gritted her teeth despite the tears and the venom rose behind her eyes . “So, lets show that pretender what happens when you try to trap real monsters.”
As the six warriors drew their weapons and said their prayers, they stood for a single, long second, realising just how many people they’d forgotten to say goodbye to.