Book 2 - Chapter 33

Up until that moment, Noah had imagined that the pivotal instant of a world‑altering battle would involve a grand speech, a battle cry, and a rising swell of righteousness as soldiers charged the enemy. The logical part of his mind knew that was unrealistic, but as someone who’d never lived through such a moment, he couldn’t help recalling the stylized images fed to him by video games and history books. Even his brother—a professional soldier—had never fully dispelled the idea.

Until now.

As the last of the conduits fell, Noah followed the group over the wall in silence. The only sounds were heavy breathing, fast footsteps, and the twang of crossbows. They dispatched the few human Corrupted guarding the tower in record time, reaching the base of the staircase before most of the small army realized anything was wrong.

If we survive this, I’m making it my personal mission to install railings on every one of these fucking towers, Noah thought as he began to climb.

Ahead of him, Ken fired his crossbow one‑handed at a flying creature, then leapt several stairs to avoid its crashing body. Ciri froze behind him, waiting for it to fall before resuming her climb. Noah pumped, aimed, and fired at another flyer before ushering Mara upward. The two remaining royal guards brought up the rear, determined to empty their magazines before drawing their swords. Piper darted through the air around them, killing what she could and distracting what she couldn’t.

Far too slowly for Noah’s liking, they climbed. His consciousness narrowed to three actions: climb the next step, fire the crossbow, protect Ciri and Mara. He slipped into a trancelike state, trusting Ken’s training and his own instincts to keep him alive long enough to reach the top.

The ground shrank beneath them. Eldritch creatures charged up after them, prompting their rearguard to turn, plant his shield, and block the way. Following Ken’s advice, Noah registered—and dismissed—the moment the man fell, knowing his sacrifice bought them thirty precious seconds.

“Get in front of me,” Noah growled to Mara as the second guard turned and planted his shield.

“What?”

“I can’t close portals. You can.” He flattened himself against the wall. “Get up there and get this fucking done.”

She darted ahead, leaving Noah with the guard. Noah paused long enough to shoot over the man’s shoulder at an oncoming Corrupted Fae, catching it in the throat. It halted, hands instinctively reaching for the bolt lodged in its trachea.

Pump. Aim. Pull.

A second bolt punched between its eyes, killing it. The guard kicked the body down the stairs, sending it crashing into its allies. Noah pumped again, watching two more Corrupted lose their footing and fall off the staircase.

Looks like Corrupted Fae die just like the rest.

“Go!” the guard shouted without turning. “I’ve got this!”

Gritting his teeth, Noah threw caution aside. He sprinted up the stairs two at a time, cursing the entire way. Blood and bodies of flying creatures made the climb treacherous, but through divine intervention or dumb luck he reached the top at the same time as Mara. He nearly crashed into Ken and Ciri—both firing their crossbows as fast as they could into the room beyond.

Turning, Noah finally saw their objective. A circular blue portal hovered thirty centimeters off the ground, lightning arcing around its edges. It was at least five meters in diameter, and through it Noah glimpsed a sandy landscape beneath a red sun.

Unfortunately, halfway through the portal hung another centipede monster. Its mandibles gnashed and its razor‑sharp feet slashed at them as bolts clattered uselessly off its chitin. It seemed unwilling to fully emerge, but enough of its body protruded to block any attempt to reach the portal.

“Ciri!” Noah shouted. “Use the spell—just like in the tent!”

She dropped her crossbow, flipped through her grimoire, and tore out the page. The scream of the final royal guard echoed up the staircase, drowning out the chime of magic as she cast. Noah turned to face the stairs, crossbow raised, determined to buy them enough time to make every sacrifice worth it.

The centipede slumped to the floor a moment later, shaking the tower. Ken charged through the doorway, knife in one hand and crossbow in the other. Mara followed after a brief pause, letting him check the corners for ambushers.

She had barely crossed the threshold when a flying creature screamed in behind her, slamming her forward into the centipede. Her grimoire skidded across the floor as her elbow struck one of the creature’s red eyes. It bolted upright milliseconds later—the spell broken.

Abandoning his post, Noah lunged for Mara. He grabbed her arm and hauled her backward just as the creature pounced, its mandibles missing her by centimeters. As he dragged her away, it stalked forward, forcing him back until his boot reached the tower’s edge.

One more step and he’d fall to his death.

The strike never came.

Instead, the creature screeched as Ken drove his knife deep between two chitin plates. It shuddered and retreated, focusing on him instead. His knife vanished into the portal as the creature moved, leaving Ken defenseless.

Noah screamed—though the ringing in his ears swallowed the sound.

The creature eviscerated Ken, tearing through armor and abdomen in one horrific motion. Noah forced himself to watch as the man who had become his mentor fell to his knees, his broken body unable to fight. His analytical mind knew the truth: with that much blood loss, Ken had less than a minute.

It’s over. We’ve lost, Noah thought as the rest of the Corrupted reached the top of the stairs, content to watch the centipede finish the job.

A placid look crossed Ken’s face. In a final act of defiance, he slowly raised his hand toward the portal, fist clenched. He turned to the three of them, smiled, and opened it—revealing a torn piece of paper.

Only then did Noah notice Mara’s fallen grimoire lying open beside him.

A familiar chime rang out as Ken broke one of the cardinal rules of magic. The centipede lunged, devouring him as quickly as possible as if trying to undo the already-cast spell. A moment later, the portal winked out of existence, severing the creature’s head.

Act now. Process later. Ken’s voice echoed in Noah’s mind as grief threatened to overwhelm him.

“Get up!” Noah barked at Mara, ripping the magazine from his crossbow.

She scrambled to obey as the Corrupted broke from their stupor and charged. Their attack was interrupted by a ferocious Piper, diving and clawing at their faces, buying Noah precious seconds. Gratitude for the runt griffon swelled in him as he pulled the grappling bolt from his utility belt and slammed it into place.

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“Hold onto me!” Noah shouted, aiming at a nearby tower and pulling the trigger.

The rope unspooled for a full second before the bolt struck home. He tugged once, testing it, as Mara and Ciri wrapped their arms around him. He glanced back.

“Time to go!”

Hoping Piper could extricate herself, Noah stepped off the ledge. Mara and Ciri screamed as they fell, stopping only when the line went taut and they swung over the city. Noah dropped his crossbow and reached for his borrowed knife, slicing the line as they passed two meters above the ground.

They hit hard, tumbling across cobblestones in a mess of bruises. They staggered upright, scanning for threats. Piper caught up moments later, dropping to the ground with a soft caw.

“We need to move,” Noah grunted.

“Sewer cover,” Ciri said, pointing.

“Can you… docks? From here?” Mara asked through a groan.

“Yes,” Ciri hissed, already moving.

Without another word, they staggered toward the sewer grate. Noah wrenched it open with both hands, and Ciri cast another spell, dropping an orb of light down the hole to illuminate the tunnel. The image of the royal guard being mobbed by grey‑skinned monsters flashed through Noah’s mind, freezing him for a heartbeat.

The sound of rapid footsteps from the next street made the decision for him.

He swung his legs down and began his descent, Mara following close behind. Piper swooped into the hole just before Ciri climbed in, dragging the sewer cover shut behind her.

Noah checked his bandolier as his boots hit the wet ground, mentally cursing his lack of options if the sewer monsters returned. He drew his borrowed knife and handed it to Mara when she reached the bottom, knowing she’d lost her grimoire in the tower. She took it as Ciri retrieved the glowing orb and pointed wordlessly down the tunnel.

Darts. One firevine egg. One tar grenade, Noah thought as they stalked through the twisting tunnels. We’re not going to survive long if those things come back.

For twenty minutes, they moved in silence. Every sound, every shifting shadow, every twitch of Piper’s head sent a spike of fear through them, fraying their nerves to the breaking point. Noah’s hands hovered over his remaining weapons, silently praying they’d reach the exit before he had to use them.

Their luck held until they were nearly there. Piper cawed softly and nudged Noah, causing both women to freeze and stare into the darkness. At barely a whisper, he relayed the runt griffon’s warning.

“She says there are more of the creatures behind us.” He paused. “A lot more. They’re spreading out—like they don’t know where we are.”

“We need only turn left up ahead,” Ciri whispered, nodding toward a branching tunnel. “Then proceed thirty meters straight to the exit.”

“You’re sure?” he murmured.

“Yes.”

A splash echoed behind them. Noah popped the clasp on his tar grenade.

“I’m throwing this behind us. The second I do, both of you run. Don’t look back. Don’t slow down. I’ll be right behind you.”

Both women nodded, jaws tight with determination.

As quietly as possible, Noah drew the grenade, turned, and cocked his arm. The splashing grew louder. He tossed it, sending the clay sphere arcing through the darkness.

The moment it hit the ground, both women sprinted as fast as their bruised bodies allowed. Noah followed a heartbeat later, his longer legs closing the distance. Inhuman screeching and bellowing reverberated through the tunnels as they ran, desperate to reach the exit.

As he rounded the corner and saw the opening, Piper took to the air, cawing a warning. Noah reached up, popped the clasp on his last firevine egg, crushed it, and flung the powder blindly behind him.

Screeching told him he’d hit something.

The proximity of the sound told him exactly how little time they had left.

He reached the edge at the same moment as Ciri and Mara, grabbed both women by the waist, and hurled the three of them over the ledge. They missed the moored rowboat entirely, splashing into the cold, dark water instead.

He surfaced to see a mass of grey bodies clustered at the tunnel mouth. Their red eyes glared with malice, but none stepped beyond the sewer’s boundary. Ciri and Mara surfaced beside him, staring silently as they reached the same conclusion.

“Come on,” he urged. “Into the boat.”

With great difficulty, they hauled themselves over the edge of the rowboat without capsizing it. The moment they were in, Mara cut the rope tying them to the ladder rungs. Noah grabbed both oars and began to row, putting as much distance as possible between them and the horrors of the sewer.

His adrenaline faded over the next few minutes, revealing a dull ache in every muscle. Knowing they were close to the end helped him push himself to the limit, rowing until the boat bumped against the side of their ship. Mara and Ciri had to help haul him up the ladder, all three collapsing into a wet heap on the deck.

As he caught his breath, Noah realized something was very wrong.

“Piper.” He called to his still-airborne griffon, not knowing exactly where she was. “Do a big circuit of the boat. Figure out where everyone is.”

She cawed in response, prompting him to roll over, force himself upright, and scan the deck for clues. Finding no obvious ones he staggered toward the tiller only to freeze when the hatch at the stern opened and a black‑clad conduit stepped out.

Fuck, Noah thought, reaching for the darts on his bandolier.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a woman said behind him, her accent unfamiliar. “Not if you want these two to live.”

He whirled around. Half a dozen more black‑clad conduits had emerged from nowhere, surrounding Mara and Ciri. Ciri stared despondently at her still‑wet grimoire, and while Mara held his knife, the look on her face said she knew they were hopelessly outnumbered. Each captor held a grimoire in one hand and wore an assortment of knives on their belts.

“I don’t know what your leaders told you,” Noah said. “But whatever it was, they’re wrong. That portal could have killed everyone—Ferrum Vale included.”

The woman who’d spoken earlier—clearly their leader—laughed. “I doubt that very much. Now, all of you need to drop your weapons and place your hands behind your heads.”

“I’d rather die fighting,” Mara snarled.

“Fighting? No. There will be no fighting. Only a culling.” She paused. “Or you can do as I say, and I’ll take you to these leaders you speak of. They’d be very interested in meeting you.”

Certain death now or possible escape later. Noah did the calculus in his head as he unbuckled his bandolier and dropped it to the ground. I’ll take those odds.

Seeing his surrender, Ciri and Mara did the same. Their captors quickly bound their hands with rope, then tied them to the mast in a sitting position. Four of them kept careful watch as three of them tied knot after knot, ensuring they wouldn’t escape. A thick fog began to roll in around them, obscuring their view of anything beyond the confines of the boat.

“You’ll have to forgive my associates for taking so long.” The woman spoke again, her brown eyes meeting Noah’s. “We aren’t used to taking prisoners. Rest assured, we’ll be underway shortly.”

Ignoring her taunt, Noah chose a different tactic. “You seem like a smart lady. You’re being lied to.”

She answered with a sharp slap across his face, her gloved hand cracking against his cheek. “No more talking.”

Anger flared. For a moment he imagined one of Mara’s telekinetically‑powered knives slamming into her from the side, freeing him. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and forced the image away. It wouldn’t help.

When he opened them, a hard object fell from the sky and struck the woman in the head, dropping her flat onto the deck. Blood trickled from her ear as she convulsed once and went limp. Noah’s gaze darted around until he spotted the weapon—a fist‑sized ball of hail.

What the—

A soft groan sounded behind him. Another conduit collapsed, knocked out cold. Less than a second later, a third fell the same way. Only then did the kidnappers realize they were under attack.

They turned away from Noah, Ciri, and Mara, peering into the fog.

Unfortunately for them, Piper chose that moment to return. She dove at one of the conduits, clawing at her face. The others tore pages from their grimoires, trying to cast, but Piper darted away again, disappearing into the fog.

The clawed conduit clutched her eyes, screaming for healing. Two moved to help her—only for the third to let out a soft gasp. Everyone turned just in time to see her fall face‑first, her throat slit.

Standing behind her on the deck was Hannah.

Her white shirt was stained with blood, and the corner of a grimoire peeked from her vest pocket. Noah’s bandolier was slung over her shoulder. In one hand she held her short sword; in the other, one of his poison‑tipped darts.

Before the assassins could react, she flicked her wrist. The dart sailed across the deck and buried itself in a conduit’s neck. Piper reappeared milliseconds later, crashing into the final functional conduit and tearing at her face with the ferocity of a small lion.

Not willing to leave anything to chance, Hannah sprinted across the deck to help Piper. She stabbed the conduit through the chest, killing her, then spun and slit the throat of the last injured one. Their bodies hit the deck with twin thuds. Hannah stood over them, chest heaving.

“Who… are you?” Mara asked, voice tight with trepidation.

“Hannah,” Noah said, grinning despite everything. “I knew there was a good person in you.”

She turned and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t push your luck. I could still leave you tied up like this. Maybe then you’d learn your lesson.”

“What lesson is that?”

“That someday, your damn heroics are gonna get you killed.” Her expression softened as she moved to cut their bonds. “Just not today. Come on—my ship’s moored close by.”