Routhen, over 1 year ago…

1

When the first arrow hit the trunk of the tree he was leaning on, striking right beside his left ear, Arnsgar was instantly fully awake! The second arrow, coming less than a second after the first, missed his head as he moved sideways and stood up.

No, he wasn’t dozing off when he was supposed to be on watch duty. Of course not. He just… had blinked for a few minutes too long. That was it.

Grabbing his Greatsword, Soulrender - a huge broad sword, with a black hilt adorned with cut black opals and its long blade, dark as the night sky - the Warrior ran towards the tents hidden a few meters into the small grove the group decided to camp in. As he made his way back, moving from left to right, and left again, a few more arrows flew in his direction, none of them hitting their intended target.

* Wake up, everyone! We have company, and they’re comin’ in hot! Get up, wake up, GET READY, guys!

With a strong and deep voice, no doubt scarred by the years of drinking, smoking, and yelling, Arnsgar shouted as he closed in. Immediately, the tents started to open, and from them, the rest of the group emerged.

First, Bellemora, the Holy Knight, a Dwarf, and leader of the group. She had her shield in hand and was dragging her Warhammer behind her as she jumped out of the tent, seemingly ready and alert.

* An ambush? Now!? It must mean we be getting closer to Ozeron! Everybody, form up! How many are they, Arn?

It had been three nights since they were ambushed last while resting, and yeah, they were careless that time, but they were exhausted and needed the sleep. Otherwise, they’d die anyway. This time though, it was different. This time, it meant they were very close to their objective.

* Four archers coming from the west, at least five more approaching in fast. I bet Vampires. Also, two more, on a slower pace. Constructs or very large Trolls.

It was Thres who spoke, direct to the point, with as few words as possible. He was hanging from the lower branches of a tree, holding a dagger in his free hand. Having skipped the tent tonight, using it as a decoy, he stood watch himself, camouflaged by the leaves. As a Dark Elf and an Assassin, few trusted him and he always felt the same way towards others. He especially didn’t trust Arnsgar on guard duty, that’s why he always stood watch near the group, since they trusted him, and he, in return, trusted them with his very life.

* So, ten on foot, plus two big things that will show up late to the party? I like those odds. We have dealt with worse on the way here.

Picking her Longbow and quiver, Manthea commented on the battle that was about to ensue. The Elf was calm, as she always was. An extraordinary Archer, it wasn’t like she didn’t fear death or getting hurt. It was just that she had full knowledge of her skills, and that of her friends, that she knew she didn’t need to worry. She needed to shoot arrows and kill demons, that’s all. Arnsgar would keep them away from her, Bellemora would defend the girl if needed. She herself would watch their back from afar, and count on Thres to take care of those she couldn’t reach in time. That was how the group worked. With trust, and companionship.

* Yeah, but all those times, I wasn’t wearing just a piece of cloth over me skin! I had me full armor on! With gauntlets and all!

The Dwarf replied, jokingly, as she tried to equip at least boots and gloves of her armor.

* Don’t worry, Belle. Just keep that old shield of yours up and we’ll take care of the rest.

Arnsgar said, taking position a few steps ahead of her, facing the way he had just come from. Facing the incoming enemies.

* Don’t ye talk like that, you know this shield is blessed. It’ll never break, ha! I’ll support you all with the Light of Baldr, so do not fret, my friends! Fight on!

Bellemora said, now ready for the battle. At the same time, Manthea moved to have her back to a tree as to not get ambushed, and Thres jumped from where he was, going into hiding behind bushes nearby, where he could attack without being seen. The battle was about to start.

2

Three more arrows from the west, one going way right of Arnsgar, another being repelled by his sword, and the third hitting Bellemora’s shield. One arrow flew from behind them, in the other direction, followed by a scream of pain when it hit one of the enemy archers, and then two more arrows from Manthea, both on spot as well.

If they had been lucky (“There is no luck, just skill” the Elf would say), they would have felled two of their archers already, leaving another two to be taken care of, apart from the other ones closing in.

By the time the first foot soldier came into sight, jumping from behind the trees and tall bushes, it was met with a flying dagger, right to his throat, one of the few vulnerable points in their armors. With a rusty longsword in hand, these creatures were ugly, horned menaces that probably didn’t even know how to speak properly.

They were Demons, summoned from Hell by Kieran Steros, a mad tyrant who rose to power and turned his State into a den of horrors and death. Located in the capital city of Ozeron, Steros began practicing the shadow arts of magic, soon turning to necromancy and even sacrifices for Demon Lords. When it all came to light, the Council ordered Steros to step down and be judged by his crimes. But it was already too late, the man had already amassed an army of night creatures and an all-out war began with the rest of the continent of Routhen. It has been almost 3 years since then…

Two more demons pressed forward, Arnsgar stepped up and swung his Greatsword in an arc, hitting one of the demons on the chest, tearing open its armor and almost cutting it in half, but surely immediately killing it. Belle took care of the other one, offering her shield to the demon, and when it hit the shield with its sword, she quickly pushed forward, throwing the demon off balance and making it easy for her to smash its head with the Warhammer, raising it, and letting gravity do most of the work afterward.

But this movement from the frontline of the group opened the perfect position for the two remaining demons to strike from behind them. Circling, hoping their kin would draw as much attention as they did, the demons came from the sides, aiming to not only get Arnsgar and Bellemore from behind but also close in on Manthea, whom they knew they needed to get rid of first. The Archer herself was more concerned about the demon archers, it was her job to finish them off fast as well, so she would be no more than a sitting duck when they’d get the jump on her. But if only it were that easy!

As soon as the first demon charged towards Manthea, Thres stepped out of the shadows to hit it with his Twin Blades, catching him from behind, an attack of opportunity, just as the demon began to move, being caught totally surprised. But the Assassin knew there was another one around, so he didn’t go back into hiding. Instead, he made sure they knew he was there, and to get to Manthea, they would need to get through him. He dodged the first arrow that came in his direction, but the second one was not that easy. It scratched his right shoulder, and he immediately knew it was poisoned. But it was all worth it, though, as the attacks gave away the enemy’s position and Manthea let loose another three arrows, all of them hitting the target. The last demon tried to run back, but as he passed Arnsgar, the Warrior gave chase, quickly reaching the retreating demon, first kicking its legs, so it would trip and all to the ground, and then finishing it off with a single hit from his weapon.

* Arn, be careful! They’ll gang up on you!

Belle shouted, without breaking formation. She knew Arnsgar would always get carried away by battles and do some reckless stuff, but she needed to be disciplined and not only hold her position and stick to the plan but also make sure everyone else would do the same.

* They’re nothin’! Let’em come! You’ll never defeat the mighty Arnsgar, the gre-- Ughh!

3

Feeling overly confident, Arnsgar let his guard down. Shouting about how no one could beat him, and how great he was, he opened his arms, as if in front of a crowd. Undoubtedly, in his mind, he could even hear them cheer and yell, praising, worshiping him. But when he turned around, all he saw were legs. Yes, a pair of legs had closed in while he was daydreaming, and atop these legs was a Flesh Golem, an undead construct, huge in stature and immense in strength. Slamming its enormous arm on Arnsgar, it sent the man flying back several meters, and he felt, even more, when he hit the ground, all out of composure.

* MIKK JOTH GILDETH, O HALAGSTR, ZVA GALJEVA OLG SLOKR!

The dwarvish words came from Bellemore’s mouth, as she walked towards Arnsgar, he was still twisting in pain, trying to get up fast. Manthea had also moved up with Belle, and Thres went back into hiding, trying to get the enemy by surprise. They had moved as one, this time.

As soon as the Holy Knight finished her incantation, a pillar of light came down upon the Flesh Golem, scorching his skin, making him yell in pain. But still, it moved. And not only that, right behind him there was another one.

* Okay, these things will give us a run for our money...

Arnsgar got on his feet and immediately raised his sword once more, now standing beside Bellemora. A few steps behind them, Manthea shot two arrows, and different from her first targets, this one didn’t seem to care at all. The arrows plunged into the Golem’s flash but it didn’t even flinch or take notice.

They were slow, at least, and with each step towards Belle and the others, the group took one back, keeping their distance, trying to come up with a strategy to deal with those aberrations. Pure head-on brute force only might not do it this time.

* I’m going to have to use special arrows. Regular ones are not being effective.

Now taking the time to choose which arrow to fire, Manthea pulled her quiver around her shoulder, to give it a good look. Meanwhile, Arnsgar grunted, and went in for the strike, one and two, and then jumped back before he could be hit again. His attacks were not as effective either, it seemed. Bellemora, however, spoke a single word as she moved in close to the Golem, ‘LEORM’, and her Warhammer shone brightly - The Justicer, with a long handle made of bright metal, with gold-adorned leather around the grip, her holy weapon had a head made of silver, with a cross on its side, and a star-shaped spike on the other end of the head. With the holy magic-infused weapon, Bellemore hit the Golem's leg, right on the side of its knee, and this time it seemed to work as intended. Groaning from the hit, the Golem was forced to its knee, and at that moment, Thres fell from above right on the creature’s back, both daggers diving deep into the creature’s nape, cutting down all the way to the base of the neck. Growling in pain, the Golem shook its torso from side to side, trying to throw the Assassin off of it, to no avail, the blades only ripping the cut open more and more each time he swung. Disoriented, the first of the Golems didn’t even see the two ‘special’ arrows flying in its direction (and even if it did, it wouldn’t be able to dodge or deflect it). As soon as the arrows hit - one in the cheek and the other directly into the eye socket, they began secreting a special oil that filled the creature’s face in an instant, being absorbed by its skin. By the time the third, flaming, arrow hit its forehead, the oil had dispersed enough and the Golem’s head was ablaze!

But that wasn’t the last of their problems, and they were instantly reminded of that. Just as the first Golem fell dead to the ground, the second one had managed to catch Thres in one of its large hands. With long fingers, the creature locked the Dark Elf on its grip and was beginning to crush him inside its palm. Thres had let go of his weapons so he could try to force the fingers open with pure strength, but to no avail. The creature was much stronger than him. Seeing his friend in such a dire situation, Bellemora ran towards the second Golem, jumping over the corpse of its pair, but as she tried to do the same thing she did to the previous one, this Golem dodged the attack, taking a step back. Manthea was still getting the next volley of arrows ready when Arnsgar took the opportunity and charged towards the Golem. Ditching his weapon for now, the Warrior grabbed one leg of the creature, and with a screen, as loud as he could manage, he pulled it with as much strength as he could. A cracking sound was heard as Arnsgar smashed the insides of the creature’s ankle, pulling it to the side and making the creature fall prone on its face, letting go of Thres in the process. Rolling to the side, Thres quickly picked up his blades and, even though he was injured, jumped on the creature's back and began slashing and cutting his way up to its neck.

A single arrow lodged itself right on top of the Golem’s head.

* Get back, everyone. Things are about to get nasty.

Manthea said, with a calm voice, turning her back to the Golem and removing the quiver from her shoulder. The battle was over, and she knew it. Arnsgar ran back, picking up his sword on the way. Bellemora did the same, but not before helping Thres gain as much distance as possible. None of them saw the Golem touching the arrow at the exact moment it exploded, blowing up the Golem’s head and hand, throwing pieces of rotten flesh all over the place, including the group themselves and their tents.

4

In less than a minute the group had suited up, packed up, and was ready to keep going. The sky was still dark, and it would be a couple of hours before dawn came, but they knew they had to press on. They were close, very close.

The tents would be left behind, and there would be no attempt to hide their tracks or their presence. Soon they would be out of these woods and at the gates of Ozeron. There was no point in trying to stay hidden. At this point, Steros knew they were coming. It was only a matter of ‘when’.

* I hope you all got some rest before the scouts came because we are not stopping anymore, not until we get inside that city. We only stop in Ozeron now.

Bellemora was serious when she said that. It would be harsh, they couldn’t afford another ambush. What if they had some bad luck and got seriously hurt?

That’s when she remembered Thres got scratched by a poisoned arrow. Stopping what she was doing, she raised her head and looked around for him. He had his back to her and was tying up his backpack. She started to walk towards him.

* It’s okay, Belle. It’s only itching a bit. Don’t worry. Save your strength.

The Assassin replied, making clear he knew she was approaching him, and with what intent. He didn’t turn to face her when he spoke, though.

* You are my strength, Thres Merethyl. You, and every and each one of you here. You are my strength, and I am nothing without you by my side.

Looking around as she spoke, Bellemora saw the timid smile on Manthea’s face and the arrogant smirk on Arnsgar’s. When she look at Thres again, he had turned to face her and didn’t seem as pleased as the others.

* Don’t call me that. You know I hate that name. ‘Thres’ will do it. Only ‘Thres’.

Anger burned within his eyes for a moment but then died out. He took a deep breath and then got on his knees in front of Bellemora. She smiled, understanding the movement, and placed the palm of her hand above the small cut on the man’s shoulder. It was thin, almost invisible, was it not the purple lines of poison trying to get inside the Dark Elf’s skin and into his blood.

They didn’t know which poison it was, but it was safe to assume it was not only of the ‘mild’ ones, that only make you feel dizzy and throw up a few nights. This one was certainly lethal. And had Bellemora not used one of her spells to cure Thres of it, he would be dead in a few days, at most. Not that he cared, actually. As long as the mission was complete, Steros was defeated and his friends were safe back home to take care of their families and friends, he wouldn’t mind dying.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

* I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak like that. And thank you. But please, you have to rest as well.

His tone this time was much more moderate. He usually tried not to show much emotion, but anger had a way to crawl up his mouth more often than any other feeling. He stood up again, and with a knot on the leather strap of his backup, Thres was ready to begin moving again. As were the others.

* How far is it now? Around 8 hours or so? We might be getting there just as the sun is setting again, right?

Manthea was their guide inside these dark woods, but once they were through on the other side, they wouldn’t need a guide. The city of Ozeron would be on the horizon, plain for all of them to see. From then on, it would be a matter of strategy more than tracking. Decide which battles to face for a more direct route, and which battles to steer away from.

Even though everyone knew they had a say in it, it was Bellemora’s decision in the end, as she was their leader. And they trusted her with their lives.

* We’ll walk for most of the day, yes. Not much point in staying in the shadows now, eh? The sun’s heat will drain us of our strength, but it’ll also keep us safe from the night creatures.

It seemed like a plan everyone agreed upon, with no one replying to Bellemora. Except for Arnsgar’s smart-ass remarks.

* Good. I want them to see me coming. I want them to know it was Arnsgar the Steel who felled them!

5

The capital city of Ozeron towered the center of an almost-devastated land, with its high marble walls, and even higher buildings, adorned with gold and silver, the city exhaled luxury, even from afar. Even now, with the soot from smoke and dirty of rot and blood filling its streets, and death and decay all around it, it almost shone like a glimmer of hope in a nightmare. Almost ironically, the city looked like a safe bastion amidst the chaos that surrounded it.

From the now-dark woods to the city, the way was paved with farmlands, once gleaming with life and happy people, waking up early to tend to the soil and care for the animals, eager to help one another and try to provide a better life for their families and those around them. But now, long years since Steros seized power and started dwelling in the dark arts, the path was filled with corpses and zombies, and half-dead creatures that could barely stand the light of the sun. Evil men who sold their souls to the power of Kieran Steros also roamed the land and patrolled the area. Mercenary, dumb enough to believe they would have a better life once it was all done. Hardly would they have a life at all, if Steros got what he wanted…

* Once we get inside the city, we rush to the palace. No stops, no sidetracks. Straight into the palace. Steros must be at the Throne Room.

The group was closing in on the city, and Bellemora’s plan seemed logical. No one questioned her.

Having faced three groups of enemies since leaving the dark woods - a patrol of five guards that seemed to be beating an animal for fun, three zombies munching over a long-dead farmer, and a lone fire demon who never saw them coming -, their energy was starting to dwindle. The faster they could finish this, the better.

They had also stopped for 15 minutes to catch their breath and eat the last of the rations they had brought with them. It was really their last stop, since there was no more food to be eaten after that. They didn’t plan the journey back. It was a one-way trip to Murder Town.

And once they got to the outer walls of the city, Thres and Manthea began to search for a way in: a shorter part of the wall, a broken part large enough for them to fit in, a rope they could climb, a sewer gate that could be removed. And of course, it was the last one they found.

* Sliding on their shit, to save a bunch of coward-hiding little worms. Argh, I hate this part of being a hero.

Even trying to whisper, Arnsgar’s voice was loud, and they feared his complaints would call the attention of nearby hell hounds, but luckily it didn’t. With a stern look of disapproval, Bellemora made sure to let him know he should stay quiet, at least for now. And so he did.

The water was thick and black, no doubt a mix of bodily fluids and human remains, as well as blood. And the odor was one of the most disgusting things they had ever smelled. It wasn’t pleasant to anyone. Even Thres grunted a few unintelligible words when it was his turn to cross the sewage gate into the city. But it was the best and fastest way, and within minutes, they were inside Ozeron.

* Remember the people here have been living in fear for three years. They might flee, they might scream, they might even attack us if they see us. But we must not hurt them. They’re victims. We are here to help them.

Always thinking about the welfare of others, Manthea reminded the group - mainly Thres and Arnsgar, that there were still people living inside Ozeron. Those who couldn’t afford to leave, those who didn’t want to leave all behind, those who just missed their chance, and now it’s all too late. There were not many people left, that’s for certain. No more than a few hundreds, which in a city as big as Ozeron is, is quite a low number.

They stayed inside their houses, quiet and silent, during the night, hoping no demon or vampire or hell fiend would find them in their sleep, and then when the sun rose, would scavenge the streets, the abandoned houses, the ransacked markets, in search for food, water, and clothes, mostly. All still keeping alert to mercenaries and necromancers roaming about, in search of subjects or another play-thing to pass the time.

They were a weary people, that’s for sure. Fierce too. The dead bodies of thieves and goblins laying all around showed that. They were still willing to put up a fight if they needed to. And it was those Manthea was more afraid to run into. Not because she feared they would harm them, but because she would have to kill them to protect her friends. And the fight would no doubt attract unwanted attention. So everyone needed to be very careful.

* What if we followed the sewers to the palace. We could enter the place without being noticed, hopefully.

Even though that was one of their worst experiences so far on this journey (and they had been through a lot!), Thres’s idea was sound. If they could find a way into the city that easily, the same tactic could be tried to get into the palace.

* No way! I’m not diving into shit and guts again! I rather storm the gate, alone if I have to!

Arnsgar was the only one to respond, even if no one was really happy about the idea of going into the sewage again. And as crazy as it sounded, going to the front door alone would definitely be something he would try if dared to.

* Stop that! No one is going to the front door. You want to get us killed?!

Bellemora made sure to reply to that comment, just to make it clear he should not do it, even if it was just a joke. Who knows, Arnsgar wasn’t the smartest person there.

* Look at this place! Do you think whoever is in that palace is using the latrine correctly? I bet the sewers there are cleaner than these streets.

And Manthea had a point. It was not like the place was a fully functional city these last few months, so it was safe to assume that whatever roamed the halls of the palace had little interest in doing their business in the right place.

Satisfied with their arguments, Arngar nodded and accepted the plan. Thres was already in place and as soon as Bellemora gave him the signal, he started moving. He was the best of them in keeping out of sight and finding a way to stay hidden, even in an ‘abandoned’ city like this one.

Threading by side streets, under demolished buildings, and sometimes even on roofs of houses, the group followed close to the sewer stream above ground, until they reached the center of Ozeron, where the magnificent palace stood. Nicknamed ‘Mount Doom’ by people, the dirty white construction stood tall above the almost-empty city, like a candle in the middle of a chocolate cake. In its days of glory, Ozeren was one of the richest cities in Routhen, with streets bustling with merchants and travelers and adventures from all over the continent. The palace at the center glimmered under the sun and showed everyone how prosperous life was inside those walls.

Now, the palace lost its shine, and the marble now is dull, off-color. The few golden arcs remaining are stained with blood and an oily, viscous liquid no one dared to wonder what it was. I was like the palace, that once had a life of its own, is now dead. Or, better yet, undead, like so many of its inhabitants now.

6

There were no guards near the gates to the sewers of the palace, and the group managed to avoid the creatures lurking in the shadows within the city. The light of the sun was going down, and they knew that soon, in a few minutes, dark will have fallen upon them, and then the monsters will come out to play. To they had to get in now, or they could be trapped outside until the next sunrise, something they could not afford.

Right outside the sewer gate, two hell hounds seemed to be playing with a half-eaten woman, toying with her arms, pulling from one side to the other, chasing after it, and moving it with their long-clawed paws.

The first one to see the scene, Thres stopped and made everyone aware of the situation. This new obstacle needed to be dealt with fast. The shadow of the palace against the sun already covered the opposite side of the street they were on, and soon it would embrace the whole city, and the streets and skies would be full of creatures of the night.

* We need to get them strong. One hit to kill them.

When she spoke, it was clear Bellemora was trying to come up with a plan to make it work. The objective was clear to her: kill them before they could react. The group knew they were fast and hard a hard-to-hit target. They couldn’t waste time fighting them, not here, not now.

* I can hit them both with my arrows, at once.

Manthea was the first to volunteer.

* No, it would not kill them. They have endurance. We can’t afford to let them run.

Thres replied immediately. He too was trying to figure out a way to solve this problem.

* Why not just run to them and bash their heads in?

Arnsgar simplistically asked.

* They certainly run faster than you, Arnsgar.

Thres replied again, this time to the Warrior, with a tint of poison in his words.

* Well, why don’t you run to them, then? Aren’t you oh-so-fast sneaky bastard?!

The bigger man barked, almost jumping on Thres to cover him with punches and kicks.

* Shut up, you brainless hunk of muscles! I’m trying to th-

Before the Dark Elf could finish, Bellemora made them stop, pushing them to different sides, and telling them to stay quiet. It seemed she had come up with a plan.

* Okay, listen to me. We don’t have much time and I’m pretty sure we get only one chance at this. So pay attention!

And she started to explain her plan to the group.

* First, Manthea, you hit them both with freeze-infused arrows. It’s not meant to kill them, only prevent them from moving, at least for a while. As soon as your arrows fly, me and Arn will run towards them. Arn, be ready to throw your weapon at them if they end up escaping the ice before we get to them, okay? You go to the one further from us, and I’ll get the one closer since I can’t run that fast. Thres, you’ll be our failsafe. If one of them escapes, you’ll have to chase it and make run it doesn’t run away or make too much noise. Okay? Everyone agree?

With a nod, the whole group seemed to believe that was their best choice and were instantly ready to put the plan into action. Their cue would be Arnsgar and Bellemora running. Manthea was ready with three arrows pointed at the beasts. And then the Dwarf and the Human jumped forward, she let loose two of them. At the same run, Thres ran around them, to get closer, but stay out of sight.

One of the freeze arrows hit the target, the hell hound across the stream, while the first one missed, as the dog heard the running steps of the duo. Immediately, Manthea released the third arrow, accounting for the beast’s movement, and hit it on point, ice crystals rapidly growing around the chest and paws of the creature, freezing it in place.

Seeing the creature in a different position than before seemed to confuse Arnsgar, who instead of going to the farthest one, attacked the dog closest to him, the one recently hit by Manthea’s arrow. Bellemora groaned but didn’t say anything, instead upped the ante to the next one, to attack it herself.

With one of the dogs dealt with, after two blows from Arnsgar Greatsword, only the other hell hound remained. The ice that restrained it began to melt, the spell losing its power. Trying to kill it before it was free, Bellemora swung the Warhammer in its direction. The move was badly calculated and even worse executed. The hell hound dodged, moving its head away, with little movement it had returned to it, and avoided the weapon. Each second, more and more of the ice let go of its body.

That was when, plunged into the air, a winged imp dove from the widows of the palace above and flew in the direction of the group and the hell hound. At first, it didn’t seem to understand what it was, but once it caught the group right in its fields of vision, it understood: fresh meat. It buzzed in, down in the direction of Arnsgar, caught by surprise by the newcomer, and scratched its face and arm, rising into the air again and out of reach.

Stunned by the sudden appearance of another foe, the group only realized the hell hound was free and it started running, away from the group, no doubt toward its pack. Bellemora gave chase, but she knew she couldn’t catch him. She had two choices: casting a spell to smite the creature (alerting every night creature within 100 meters or so), or throwing her Warhammer at it, risking not hitting it, and losing her weapon.

But before she could decide, two arrows flew by her, catching the dog as it jumped over a small pile of debris. It seemed like the damage sustained by the first freeze arrow, the glancing from Bellemora’s hit and these two new arrows were enough to take it down. Bellemora, however, wanted to be sure. With haste, she approached the downed creature and smashed its head with a single blow.

Seeing that display of power from above, the flying creature knew it was no match for the group. So instead of diving in for a second attack, it seemed to browse around for friends. And when found, it started making its way toward what seemed like demons, coming out of a hole in the ground, two or three blocks away from there. It was going to get reinforcements.

So imagine the winged imp’s surprise as two blades pierced its body: one in the wing, the other on its leg. The two small daggers drive into the imp’s flesh and started to pull it down to the ground. Attached to the hilt of the daggers were strings of thin, silvery lines. Thres yanked once more at the strings in his hand, trying to knock down the flying creature. And when it fought to stay airborne against the strength of the Assassin, the dagger tore a piece of its wing open, and the imp screeched loudly from the pain.

The group knew it was not a good sign. In seconds, dozens and dozens of creatures would swarm the location they were at, and they would be either eaten alive or fight through the night, neither a good option. So in a fit of desperation, Thres pulled the line one more time, with all he had, and the dagged did not give in, latched into the creature’s thighbone. It was flung into the ground, and as soon as it hit the dirty stones in the front of the sewer gate to the palace, Arnsgar stomped it, with his heavy steel boots, putting it out of its misery and silencing the creature for good.

* Nice going, Elf. Now everyone knows we’re here.

The Human did not waste time baiting Thres for his mistake. But before the other could reply, Bellemore stepped in again. And there was urgency in her voice.

* Come on, we have no time to waste! Get in, and they might think it was just a fight between the dogs and the flying thing. But we need to get out of here, fast!

Not losing any extra second, they rushed to the gate. Thres and Manthea were able to squeeze in with some difficulty, but for Bellemora and Arnsgar they had to put their strength to test, bending the metal open as much as they could for the rest of the group to join the first ones. And in mere minutes, they were inside the palace. Looking behind, once they had gained some distance, they could see the waves of creatures roaming around the dead city, flying through the sky, bringing terror and leaving only horror and death.

But their quest was almost over. They were inside the palace in Ozeron, home to Kieran Steros, the mad tyrant who decided to conquer Routhen with an army of demons and creatures of the night, wielding the power of the shadow itself. All they had to do was find Steros and put an end to his life. Then the whole world would be saved, and they could return home Heroes.

7

They had been walking the corridors of the palace for minutes now, growing impatient with every step, anxiety lurking behind every shadow on the wall.

* I can feel it. The power. This corrupted and dark power. It’s coming from below.

This was one of the few times the others had seen Bellemora so nervous. She barely spoke (none of them did), and when she did, her voice was cold. She knew the moment of truth was coming, they all knew that. When their resolve would be tested, and the fate of everyone and everything would hang on their actions. And they had to have to will to see it through. No matter what it takes.

* No matter what it takes…

The whispered voice of Manthea sounded soft on their ears, like a death sentence. They were closer than ever to their final destination when Bellemora pointed to the stairs going down, to the Dungeons.

Without questioning. they followed her down one, two, three stories of stairs, until the stairs ended and the marble of the walls gave place to a much darker and rustic stone, covered in a black moss that seemed like rust or bark on a tree. It was cold down there, and it seemed the light of their torches, and the lamps placed on regular intervals on the walls, could not fight the growing darkness around them and lit up only centimeters away from their flames. It was like the Shadow had a life of itself, and It was engulfing everything around it, every whisker of light it could find.

But still, they pressed on. Step after step, in the direction they knew they would find Steros. Where they would either finish their mission or die trying (and the world would suffer for their mistake).

End of Prologue