Chapter Ninety-Eight
The First Move
Michael stepped back into the Defanin dorm later that night to find Flinn making his bed. The day had turned quickly and the night of the Sixteenth rolled around before any of them had a chance to realise it.
Around them, a handful of people slept, trying to get as much rest as possible before they were awoken and called to arms for the defensive strategy. Almost everyone’s privacy shades were activated, like a small chamber of tombs.
Michael stepped over to his bed and began peeling off his shirt. He’d spent the day training and outlining the plan and outright forgotten to change from his gory rags. His top had a plate-sized hole in the fabric where Lillian had needed to remove the arrow, and almost everywhere else was covered by enormous, dry, blood stains. As he threw the shirt in his cupboard, he realised his bare chest wasn’t in a much cleaner state.
Flinn looked over to him and delicately asked, “You okay there, kid?”
Michael glanced at him and saw just how tired the older paladin looked. He wasn’t old by any stretch of the term, but he wouldn’t have been mistaken for a younger man right then. Someone had told him Flinn was in his early twenties, but the lines in his face were putting him a decade or so over.
“Been a long couple of days.”
Michael spent the next hour or so moving through a nightly ritual. He bathed, scrubbing his skin raw with hot water and soap, realising only by how good he smelt then, how terribly he must’ve smelt before. His hair was a touch longer than he realised and it continuously seemed to fall into his eyes while it was wet. He ran into Syon on her way into the bathhouse as he struggled to keep it out of it his face, and she kindly gave him a small hair tie. It was blue and silk which she tied into his fringe for him.
As she did so, Syon told him fun fact about Paletongue Vipers, excitedly describing the various kinds and their interesting behaviours. Her hands decorated her sentences, articulating her small hyper-fixation with such joy that Michael found himself smiling despite himself.
Syon had one of those teardrop faces which Michael had only ever heard of in books. Her eyes were a bright brown, almost a deep orange, and her arms were lean and strong as she tied back her own thick, wavy hair.
Michael thanked her before she left to bathe and found himself wondering if he’d see her again after tomorrow. He looked into one of the polished bronze mirrors of the bathhouse and found he had a small shadow growing around his jawline and chin. Michael wanted to shave but he’d never owned a razor in his life. He’d never really needed one. He wasn’t even sure he knew how.
Feeling half-civilised again, Michael made his way back up the spiral-steps, still shirtless with a towel around his waist and his pants slung over one arm.
As he walked a rhythmic patter of many footsteps resounded down the staircase from above. Michael blinked in confusion and jogged back to the first floor to see forty or more people in the Paladin Wing corridor, sombrely making their way toward the main keep hall.
Flinn stepped out of the Defanin room a moment after and looked in shock over the gathering crowd. He saw Francis among them with travel-pack slung over her shoulder and gave Flinn and irate look as he jogged over to her.
“What’s happening?” he asked, glancing about with concern.
Francis frowned at him like he’d not been paying attention and idly nodded to every around her. “We’re leaving, Flinn. We were supposed to evacuate this morning, but a few things came up.”
More Legacies emerged sleepily from their rooms to see the source of the commotion and watched in devastation as their friends and allies walked away.
By the time Flinn had thought of something to say, Francis hiked the bag higher onto her shoulder and kept walking.
As Michael watched crowd moving through the hall he suddenly felt just how much more important every arrow in his quiver was about to become. He recognised some of the faces, but most of them were only in passing. Michael saw Sidney emerge from the Rageous dorm down the hall, groggily scanning the crowd. He saw her storming up to Kresta, Amekot’s right-hand, and a good deal of shouting ensued before the older woman stormed off toward the keep hall.
Michael turned to see Flinn had gone back into their room and raked a hand through his hair as a voice flooded the corridor in the tone of Jack’s speech.
“McKennedy, here. All those currently allocated to defensive assignments outside of Fort Guardian, please return to the inner stronghold. All those evacuating, please do so before Nigh and head East to Stormhaven. I suspect Nikereus will be here before the turning of tomorrow. Anyone currently off-duty, feel free to lend a hand to those in need, or else I recommend getting some sleep until we wake the fortress for war. Our defensive initiative begins once Nikereus has settled in. That’s all for now, McKennedy out.”
Michael felt his heart beating hard in his chest and he simply began walking. Jack said words like ‘war’ as though it were no more than three-letters crammed together, and not the possible massacre of everyone he knew and cared for. He could feel the hard marble beneath his feet and before he knew it, Michael pushed through the keep doors and stepped out into the forum. The first thing he saw was the hanging post.
And sitting on the other side of it, were his companions, drinking wine and eating dinner beneath the brazier light.
Michael’s frown bent into a smile of utter disbelief. He forgot his panic as they smiled at him, and he let out a tense breath, shivering at the brisk wind in the valley. “You bloody degenerates.”
Oliver looked at him and gave a deeply, concerned smile. “Helps to be less naked if you want to be more warm.”
Michael blinked and glanced down at the towel around his waist and the pants across his arm as the others broke into a bout of laughter and he turned bright red. He gestured awkwardly back to the keep before Rose grabbed his hand and pulled off her cloak, handing it to him with a small smile. The young man took it and embraced his embarrassment as he sat down, rubbing his face.
When he looked back up, Oliver held his gaze for a while before simply smiling. He’d been quiet about everything that’d occurred the day before, but Michael trusted him to talk about it when he needed to. Though as the wind grew colder and a storm brewed in the distance, he hoped whatever time he chose wouldn’t be too late.
Nichole pushed a hot cup of mulled wine toward him and the bowman thanked her, as she looked down the row to see James fiddling with a Kosadi.
It was dull and inactive, but still every moment or so he run his thumb across it, as though hoping it would clear away any interference for the next message to come through.
“Any word from Slick?” Michael asked, following her eye-line.
James glanced at him and set the stone down. “Last night, he told me that Nikereus’ full force is waiting about half a league down from the mouth of the cave. I told Jack, and Jack wanted him to come back, but Carter’s decided to stick it out until they begin advancing, so we know exactly when things are going to heat up.” He picked up the stone again, inspecting the other side. “That was Nigh’s start, yesterday, though, so I don’t know why he isn’t responding.”
“Want me to hang onto it? Save you the full-time worrying?”
James pulled his curly hair out of his serious face and nodded, sliding the stone toward Michael.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
As the rocked grated along the table, it vibrated and glowed with a deep azure light, words scribbling across its face.
Everyone stared in shock for a moment before Michael swiped it up and read, “He says, ‘wolves’, ‘running’, ‘ballista’...”
The words hung in the air in the air with a horrid silence as Michael looked up to the others and erupted to his feet, shouting to Sidney as she ambled across the forum, “Selene! We have a situation- James, no!”
The curly-haired boy took off at a sprint through the forum and toward the nearest wall-staircase, ripping up the steps and out onto battlements quicker than anyone would’ve believed. He looked out over the defences and ran toward Lain, stood with a crossbow in her hand.
“James?”
“Get to the ballista, now! Archers, form up!” James stormed over to the nearest ladder-lever and heaved it down.
Michael scampered up the steps behind him, yelling, “James, you need to stop!”
Dark howls filled the morning air, and the confused guards all turned to the hillside, marked by the jagged chasm, and Lain shouted, “Defensive positions!”
James grabbed a shortsword from the sheath of someone on duty and leapt onto the ramparts as they yelled, “Hey!”
Michael’s heart went ice-cold as James dropped out of sight to the stone rung below, holding a blade in one hand and gripping the ladder-slab with his other.
Michael ripped his trousers on under his towel and stepped up to the battlements, shouting James’ name over and over when the howls rolled out again. He looked up and saw a small figure leap from the mouth of the crevice and land in a muddied slide, gliding down a portion of the hill.
Less than a moment after, a pack of five Shade Hounds came tearing out from the opening, gnashing their teeth and tearing the wet soil with their claws as they bolted after him.
Michael swung himself over the battlements and saw James drop down to the final, slightly longer slab of stone, stretching over half of the moat.
“Michael, what’s going on? Is that Carter?” Lain shouted, grabbing his shoulder. “Get on the ballista and sound the alarm!” Michael yelled and lowered himself down to the next rung, feeling his entire body tremble as the wind shifted across his back.
Lain saw the looks on the faces of the wall guard and barked, “Archers, standby!” as she tore over the nearest ballista and cranked it into position.
Bells began chiming in a riot of gonging.
James stepped as far back as he could as Michael’s shouts filled the air, before he barrelled down the slim platform and threw himself over the sludge-filled moat, landing in a messy tumble on the other side. James scrambled to his feet and began sprinting up the hill toward Carter in the distance.
The wolves of shifting shadow barrelled down toward Carter as he put every ounce of strength into his legs, with less than fifteen feet between himself and them.
On the battlements above, Sidney tore up the steps and shouted, “What in Enthall is going on here?”
Lain saw her and went pale-faced but didn’t redirect her attention as she shouted, “Hounds approaching the fortress, Ma’am! They’re pursuing Carter from the cavern!”
Sidney looked over the scene in horror before looking down over the battlements to see Michael hitting the bottom rung and readying himself to jump. She breathed out a curse and picked up a heavy crossbow, sighting the nearest Shade Hound. “Michael! Don’t let them cross the snare-line or Nikereus will know where our runes are lined up! Lain, fire-on that eager one!”
Lain cranked the massive ballistae as electricity crackled across the bolt and a hue of blue energy encircled the entire turret. She knew exactly how far it would drop and how quickly it would travel, which meant she was pointing the weapon exactly at Carter in order to hit the monsters. “Target sighted!”
Sidney adjusted her crossbow. “Ballista-op, fire!”
As Michael landed on the other side of moat, an arch of sapphire lightning careened overhead and landed in the face of the fastest Shade Hound, vaporising it as the other four launched through the plume of its smoke. As Michael clambered to his feet, he saw delicate, glowing lines of every colour streaming through the grass, all circular runes which would go unseen unless one was looking for them. They spread across the curvature of the fortress hills, like spider webs beneath the vegetation.
“Archers, nock!” Sidney bellowed from above. “Karmony, reload Sparrowson’s ballista!”
James slammed into Carter and shouted, “Are you okay?”
Carter yelled, “Not now, love, fuckin’ run!” as he tore him back toward the fortress with the remaining wolves nearly ten feet behind them.
James gritted his teeth and whipped the borrowed sword backward through the air, slamming it into one of the creatures and knocking it into a stumble.
Carter grabbed two knives from his hidden sheath and threw them over his shoulder, glancing the closer Shade Hounds and forcing them to a stagger while the two others pushed passed them.
Michael saw his two friends tearing toward him and heard Sidney shouting, “Archers, hold! They’re too close together! Hold!”
Michael’s heart threatened to burst through his chest and he skidded to a stop. He let his veins flood with light and readied to raise his hands when suddenly someone gripped his left hand and he turned to see Magnus, looking staunchly across the mayhem.
Standing there in his dark cloak with Starfire painting his crimson eyes the colour of dawn, Magnus stiffly asked, “Ready?”
Instinct bled through them in the space of a heartbeat and Michael nodded, gritting his teeth as they each stretched out a hand. At once Michael shouted, “Get down!”
James and Carter dove to the ground, sprawling over the field of magical snares as their Arcancy light blazed overhead, roaring out from the Legacies’ palms, striking the Shade Hounds to a halting stop as they yelped and barked, unable to push through the inferno of starfire.
Mere inches from the line of runes, glowing dangerously beneath the tall grass, Michael and Magnus, still clamped hand-in-hand, surged forward over their friends and forced the creatures back as Sidney shouted, “They’re clear! Fire at will!”
The two light-bringers broke off their magic and dove backward as a flurry of arrows came careening down, slotting through the dark creatures like acid rain, turning them to dust.
The field went silent while the boys all slumped into the long grass, letting out weary breaths.
Sidney shouted from above as several dozen others flooded to the battlements but her voice was lost to the wind.
Michael glanced up to see the rest of his friends gathered at the wall, looking down in desperate relief. He looked back just in time to see James’ veins retreating into his skin as he breathed slowly with his eyes closed.
James glanced at Michael and they held one another’s eye for a long moment, when the sound of drums thumped in the distance. Boom… Boom-boom… Boom….
Like rolling thunder, it echoed across the valley, and a rhythm slowly grew, cascading across every tower, through ever hall, by every pair of living ears, be they awake or asleep.
Next came the cracking footsteps of stone upon stone, followed by unknown words rattled in the Obthraien tongue.
And like ants from a disturbed hive, the army of Obthraie immerged from the dark cavern in countless droves, all moving in their enchanted lock-step as they descended the hill.
Magnus rose from the soil with the first disturbed look the boys had ever seen in his eye, and he mumbled, “Back. Now.”
But Michael was busy staring at the ashes of the dead wolves straight ahead. Those struck down by the arrows were already rising again, but not the ones who’d burned were sinking into the mud.
“Magnus, what-”
“Michael, run!”
He needed no further convincing when a wave of Shade Hounds poured from the mouth of the cave.
At the crest of a distant hill, the string of evacuating Legacies stood watch, and as they saw the thousands upon thousands of stone soldiers pouring into the fields, their screams filled the night sky. They fled the hidden valley of Fort Guardian, praying the Shade Hounds and Mountain Wolves had no mind to follow.
Slowly, the unending ranks of many-armed soldiers filled the grassy basin, stretching around a good quarter of the entire stronghold with only their invasion camp.
From the battlements above, Sidney looked over the sea of Soiltorn, Shade Hounds, and Mountain Wolves, as Jack stepped up to her side with his hand on a newly loaded crossbow. “Are we ready?” Sidney asked.
Jack looked to each of their stone faces, scanning the horde of silent besiegers looking for anyone who stood out, but there were none. If Nikereus was down there, they were wise and well-hidden, alongside their Heart Stone and Immortal Flame.
“I’m not sure it matters, Sid. Want to deliver our message?”
“Only if I can add a little flare.”
The dark-skinned maceman smiled as he stood back. “Be my guest.”
Sidney made the intricate gesture as she muttered the enchanted words, and her eyes glazed over with an electric shade of blue.
Michael, James, Carter, and Magnus scurried up the ladder just in time for her words to roll out across the valley like thunder.
“Nikereus, we wish to inform you that your infiltrator was rooted out, and is now in our darkest cell, wishing he was never born. Any advantage you think you gained, is null and void. In fact, we appreciate your assistance in luring his treasonous hide out from the shadows so we could appropriately deal with him. Which brings us to the here and now. You are encamped in Legacy territory with an armed host. Remain and you will be removed by lethal force. If you choose to assault this stronghold, it will end in your annihilation. If you believe we are not the Legacies of Old, then we will see you on the battlefield, upon which we will leave you, knee high in the corpses of your brethren. By the end of this, you will be remembered only as the monarch of your own tomb. And even that, I will salt, and render your final act of pathetic hilarity forgotten to the world. Rest up. You will need it.”