Darius took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the decision weighing heavy on his shoulders.
There was no easy way out of this, no simple solution that would make everything okay. He wanted out of Estos to start anew, to leave behind the troubles and pain of his past. But the seer’s prophecy shattered those plans, as did the failed raid in Valga.
His core sank to new depths as rival emotions waged a bloody war within. Much of him was compelled to travel back south to warn his people and clear his name, for anything else would be a humiliation against the gods. However, there was a danger that the seer’s prophecy wasn’t true. But what if it was?
Then the dark lord would doom Vlencia and erase her history, people, and culture one city at a time. Darius couldn’t let that happen. He was one of them. He was their rightful heir, and with the kingdom of Elron breathing down their necks, there wasn’t much time to deliberate either. A single chance was all he had because Alere was right—history scarcely offered second chances. It was now or never.
“I’ve made my decision.” A spark of destiny surged through Darius. “I will answer the prophecy and ride south. It may be the maddest thing I ever do, but it beats a lifetime of wandering the roads of Estrana.”
“Then I shall join you.” Alere’s solidarity gave him a morale boost, but such enthusiasm vanished when Jangar appeared in the doorway.
Darius had been so careful to never let his true identity slip since joining the guild of thieves. Only Alere knew of such truths, for anyone else may have sold him to the highest bidder.
“Vresha was right all along. She said there was something she couldn’t trust about you.” Jangar’s face lit with anger. “Instead, I ignored the wagging tongues and allowed a southern rat with royal blood to infiltrate our guild. Had any other Elronian found you, they would’ve killed you.”
“Jangar,” Alere interjected in a calm tone. “This is perfectly explainable.”
“‘Son of King Robick’... ‘Ride south to answer the seer’s prophecy’...” he scoffed. “How could I have been so blind? Maybe that’s why the gods cursed me with one eye. You were never a lost wanderer, you lying snake!”
The Darius before the raid would have convinced him he had misheard the whole thing, but not now. He was tired of falsehoods and keeping secrets. They all shared the same sad circumstance; they were exhausted, penniless, and without a strong direction to travel in.
He levelled with Jangar despite him having the clear advantage. “It’s true. I am Darius Rarkez, son of King Robick—not the Vlencian wanderer I claimed to be. I was exiled by my father ten summers ago for a crime I did not commit, thanks to a brother I thought I could trust. You believed my story, and that saved my life.”
“Then what made you entrust this twat?”
Darius glanced at Alere and shrugged. “I just did.”
Jangar shook his head. “Tell me one good reason I shouldn’t split you into two?”
Alere rose from his bed, his bow clutched in his hand. “Because it would be the last thing you do.”
“Ah, so you DO have a pair of bollocks between those sticks you call legs.”
Darius drew his sword, which failed to glisten in the shadows. He had lost count of how many lives it took, but he didn’t want to add Jangar’s to it. “It doesn’t need to end this way.”
“Too late for that, tittling.” Jangar pulled his axe from behind his back.
“Let’s just calm down!” Darius rebuked. “I see why you’re upset—”
“Upset? It’s bloody rage!” he spat. “I should have listened to Vresha. You’ve made a mockery of me—but no more!”
“Don’t do this!” Alere nocked an arrow. “We’re better as a group.”
Jangar was about to launch forward when distant barking cut through the conflict. Everyone froze in their battle stances and looked around as if their ears had deceived them.
Dogs. Many of them.
“They’re here.” Alere’s face paled as he eased the tension in his bow.
“It can’t be...” Darius added.
Jangar let his axe hang by his side.
“The hellhands must’ve picked up our trail.”
Darius turned to Alere and sheathed his sword. “That explains why the bloodwolves fled yesterday. We must leave.”
“We?!” Jangar snapped.
“I promise you’ll have your chance to slit my throat. But now is not the time.”
Jangar growled. It was clear he felt a great injustice not being able to spill blood. There was also a knowing in his eye that it would come at the price of his own life. He stomped and stormed out of the shared quarters.
Alere was already filling his satchel with waterskins and rations he had stored underneath his bed. Darius shook off the encounter and sped into action, packing up his things.
After a short while, they all reconvened in the living area. By then, the barking had grown much louder. Worse still, hooves and distant yells accompanied the commotion.
“We cannot leave through the main entrance,” Alere declared.
After an unnerving pause, Jangar begrudgingly said, “There’s another way out. But given how you’ve both lied through your teeth, I’m not sure I want to help.”
“Either we all escape or we all die,” Darius snapped. “There is no third option.”
Jangar considered it carefully, glaring at the pair of them. Placing the satchel over his shoulders, he left the living area with his axe firmly in his hand as loose bits of debris fell from the cavernous ceiling. Hellhands had them surrounded.
Darius glanced at the shrouded steps that led in and out of the ruin, his mind painting a thousand ways to die. If there was one place he refused to take his last breath, it was here.
Alere nodded tamely back, and together, they followed Jangar, finding him kneeling by the far corner in his private quarters. Two dull candles protected the room from total blackout while he struggled to remove something.
“Help me move this!” Jangar huffed, revealing a boulder.
The rock wasn’t all that large, but it promised a challenge. Darius rushed over and gripped the other side while Alere kept watch of the hallway.
“When I count to three, we pull.” His cheeks flushed red. Being this close to him felt awkward given their near-blow. “One... two... pull!”
Together, they mustered all their might to move the rock. It put up a good fight, but eventually succumbed and rolled forward, almost claiming their toes in reprisal.
The jagged hole that stared back at them confused Darius. It was large enough for an average-sized man to squeeze through. However, Jangar was anything but average. Where it led was anyone’s guess.
“Can you fit through it?”
Jangar narrowed his eye. “You’ve pissed me off enough already, tittling. I suggest you stop right there. Alere!”
Alere peered around the corner, his bow poised.
“You two go first.”
“Why?” Darius quizzed.
“Because I’d rather one of you lose your heads before me. Now move!”
The commotion outside intensified. They heard calls for surrender and knew it was just a matter of seconds before hellhands gained entry into the lair. There was no room for questions—no time for doubts.
Alere fixed his bow on his back and rushed beside the gaping hole. He was the first to crawl into the dark tunnel, being the leanest of the three. Darius watched anxiously as his torso and feet disappeared.
It was now his turn.
“Hold on to this for me,” Jangar handed over his satchel.
Darius inspected it for a moment before tossing both his and Jangar’s satchels into the jagged gullet. He took a glance at the private quarters, knowing full well it would be his last memory of this forsaken place. It was as sobering as it was fleeting.
Putting one elbow in front of the other, he crawled into the damp space. The further he travelled, the colder and wetter the tunnel became. It was as if he was crawling into the stomach of a beast.
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While Darius couldn’t see Alere, he could hear him grunting and panting ahead. He squeezed a glance behind as Jangar eclipsed the entrance, plunging them into complete darkness.
Darius pushed forward, ignoring the serrated edges that bore into his forearms. When the tunnel narrowed and took on a steep incline, panic set over him like a cloud.
His breathing became heavy as sweat collected on his forehead. Everything screamed for him to stand and push the walls away. Keep going. Keep pushing. It was the only thing his mind could muster. Just as he grew faint, light poured in up ahead.
“I think I’ve found it,” Alere called out.
Darius gasped as though he had breached the surface of water and watched as Alere hoisted himself out into pastures new.
Darius crawled forward with renewed vigour. When daylight touched his face, it almost blinded him. Branches and clouds blew overhead without care or compassion for his dire situation.
“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost, brother.” Alere leaned down to lend a much-needed hand.
“I feel like I have.”
He dragged himself to his feet, swaying as he steadied his footing. Handing Alere the satchels, he lifted himself onto the greenery where he lay to catch his breath. Never before had he been under siege by such anxiety. It was as if his throat had ceased up.
When he craned his neck, Alere had already pulled Jangar out of the tunnel. The big man’s tunic was ripped and filthy, but that didn’t faze him. Without uttering a word, he snatched the satchel and closed the grassy lid.
Ahead sat a mound that obstructed their view of the neighing horses and barking dogs below. Jangar crouched forward and laid atop it, signalling for them to join.
Darius peered over the blades of grass and saw more than a dozen men on armoured horseback. Gold-plated armour and helmets adorned each hellhand. Their swords were unsheathed and poised for blood.
Running around them were more hounds than Darius had ever seen at once. With wiggling stumps for docked tails, each sniffed every inch the ruin offered—their noses leading them to the door.
“Surrender or die!” the commanding knight called from his black stallion. His helmet fashioned two feathers and a design that left no doubt who he was. “You have nowhere to run!”
There was something familiar about the man, but Darius couldn’t put his finger on it.
“The bastard!” Jangar hissed, his eye ablaze with anguish. “He’ll pay for what he did to Vresha—and Philyp.”
“Have it your way!” The commander nodded at his waiting men. “Spare no one!”
With perfect obedience, all but two knights dismounted their horses and stormed the lair. The door proved a minor obstacle, for their steel boots brushed it aside with ease. The hounds yelped in excitement and led their handlers into the underground dwelling.
“What do we do?” Alere spoke in a quick breath.
“We cannot flee on foot. They will track us down in no time.” Darius scrutinised the commander and the two warriors saddled beside him.
“Please don’t say you’re suggesting we attack them.”
“What other choice do we have?”
“These aren’t ordinary knights, Darius.”
“And I’m no ordinary thief—I am a Crimson Guard graduate!”
Jangar craned his neck over, his brows scrunched together. “Yet another one of your secrets, tittling?”
“Not now,” Darius brushed aside his comment. “We need horses if we want to live beyond sunset.”
“But I only have six arrows left in my quiver.”
“Then make them count.”
Alere paused, his jaw clenching. Darius took his silence as agreement and studied the three elite guards, looking for any weaknesses his sword might exploit.
Their armour was thick and likely resistant to lesser weapons. With a bit of luck, his fortified blade would find a way through it. If all else failed, there were gaps and cracks to be found.
“So, what’s the plan?” Alere spoke with dread.
Darius exhaled. “Hopefully, one that doesn’t get us killed.”
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