Silas stood grinning in front of us. His Hand bodyguards in full plate armour and another four warriors ready to pounce us at a word's notice. Ivor gripped the straps holding the Eighth Book of Harrow.
We retreated.
Back in the darkness of the library we quickly retraced our steps to one of the doorways. Since we knew the layout of the citadel and the way the portals worked, our plan was to split their numbers chasing us and confuse them. The Citadel was collapsing around us so we had to get out as soon as possible, with the Eighth Book, at all costs.
Running through a doorway our Spellcasters buffed our defences in preparation for the fight ahead. We leapt from portal to portal, until the angelic doorway leading to the foyer stood before us again. We drew our weapons, adjusted my quiver , twanged my bow in preparation, took a deep breath and knocked on the door. The angel doors opened and we stepped through.
Silas and the others still stood there. Waiting for us. Great.
"Give us the Book and the four of you will be allowed to leave," Silas declared. Either he couldn't count, or one of us wasn't part of his bargain.
"Eat dirt and die!"
"Come get it yourself!"
"Over our dead bodies!"
"Charge!!!"
The four warriors, garbed in loose cloth wrapped around their faces leapt forward, fanning out to circle us. The bodyguards went through an elaborate kata while Silas started to chant.
Our escape route was blocked and the citadel was crumbling around us, but we were in the moment. Until Silas was dead we weren't going anywhere.
Jarl froze the floor in front of them to keep our enemies at bay, Ivor's hammer lit with a flaming roar, metal on metal unsheathing of Ahmok's deadly blades and Elessar's chanting put a grin on my face.
I took deadly aim on one of the Slayers. We were outnumbered, and by the looks of it in deep shit. Yet the creaking of my bow and the point of my arrow in line with my target completely blocked this out. To an onlooker a wooden shaft suddenly sprouted from the slayer's chest who went down like a brick.
First blood.
The battle that followed was furious. The lights suddenly blinked out, pitching us in absolute darkness. Elessar screamed and writhed in agony behind me. Our enemies weren't wielding any bows.... magic! One of them was a spellcaster – I made a mental note to ask my fellows to tell me if they knew about our enemies before going into battle!
I followed Elessar's screams in the darkness until his spasming hit my leg. Not knowing what to do against this kind of magic, I pulled out a healing flask and forced it down his throat, if anything to buy him some more time.
Amok cursed in the darkness, almost stumbling over Jarl's icy floor, who finally lit our immediate area with a cantrip. Elessar's face was whiter than usual, he clutched his chest and squirmed in agony, then slumped unconscious – better that way for now. I hoisted him on my back and followed the wall to what I hoped was the direction of our exit.
Looking to the right I saw Ahmok's blades dance across one of the Slayer's chest. Blood gushed from the his chest and he fell backwards and with a snarl Ivor lunged forward, his roaring hammer crushing the life out of him.
The battle was getting desperate now. Silas was preparing to cast another spell, and from what I had seen already I knew that we weren't going to survive another one of his attacks. Ahmok must have sensed this too because he jumped over the ice brandishing his blades with expertise.
Just then the lights went out again... Jarl. I bumped head-first into the wall and stopped mid-step. Elessar must have been shaken awake by his muttering.
I gratefully put Elessar down and tried to peer into the darkness. He told me that Silas used a spell that physically crushed his heart. Another second and he would have surely died. Something must have broken Silas's concentration, otherwise he wouldn't have woken up again.
The Nethermancer could see through Silas's spell of darkness, so I followed his light step towards the exit.
The light finally came back on and I groaned. Ahmok was surrounded on all sides by the bodyguards and slayers. With every blade he blocked another two sliced in. One guard kicked Amok in the chin, snapping his head back. His heavy sword followed the kick almost instantly, giving an opening to the other bodyguard who stabbed him from the back. They were butchering him!
Looking at the bodyguards I knew that finding a chink in their armour would be difficult, but as I concentrated I felt an old magic stirring within me. His armour became clearer, more obvious. My Family's crest, no more than a hand's breadth wide blinked into existence on a fold of his armour. I held focus and drew my bow. The crest – Three arrows pointing inwards to a jewel sharpened in clarity. I loosed and the bodyguard jerked and went down.
Elessar and Jarl threw everything they had at the rest of time, clearing a space for Ahmok to bolt free.
Silas saw this and reached out to Jarl who's grin disappeared in a cry of pain, clutching his chest and fell back. Elessar somehow managed to come out of it alive, but Jarl didn't seem so lucky. The last thing Jarl screamed was for us to get out with the book.
Ivor ran through the giant doors towards the dock. The sound of storm outside was legion. In that storm was Madness, and it knew that the Citadel and it's protective shield was shattering.
Time was running out.
Jarl gave a final kick and his heart gave in.
Out in the raging storm I turned around to see the slayers chasing Amok and the bodyguards attacking Elessar. A deep rumbling from the Citadel's foundation cut through the storm's wrath – if we didn't stop this now we were all going to die.
Silas strode forward as he was preparing another spell. I could barely make him out through the wind and rain. Reaching in my quiver I fingered my last arrow, slightly longer than the others, it seemed to absorb the light around it. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I pulled it free. The Arrow of Death. It was now or never. I took a deep breath, judged the distance and the roaring wind, nocked the arrow, drew and released.
The deadly shaft arced high through the air, cutting through the storm like the Reaper.
I like to think that Silas felt Death streaking towards him. His form crumpled to the floor, his life blinking out instantly. Silas was no more.
Elessar dodged and ducked the great sword that tried to smite him down. He leapt up from a crouch, reaching for his face as if pulling off a mask. His grotesque face hissed at the bodyguard who dropped his sword and stumbled backwards in terror.
Ahmok turned on the Slayers and stated the obvious – if we didn't all leave now all of us would die. The slayers looked at each other and nodded to Ahmok. A temporary truce.
Ahmok ran back and picked up Jarl's lifeless form.
Ivor struck the gong. We peered into the waiting storm, hoping that the barge would have heard the summons. When it finally did we leapt on board and rowed for what our life was worth.
Never have I seen such demonic creatures. They were all around us, swimming through the waters, clawing at us from above and raping our minds with their insanity. A mother devouring her deformed child hovered over the water. Maniacal creatures tore at each other to get to us. We held on for dear life as the storm whipped the flat barge about. Finally we shot through the rift and into the Mist Swamps.
All around us life burned and was flailed by the horrors that boiled out of the rift behind us. Barely able to hear each other Elessar ripped a portal open and leapt through with Ahmok right behind him.
Meanwhile Jarl was jarred back to life by the liquid from the Last Chance Potion Ivor shoved down his throat.
I would have preferred to remain dead. The expression of Jarl's face confirmed it.
The Air Whisper was so close. Around us the countless dead were stirring awake, blocking our route. Ivor landed blow after blow, keeping them at bay.
In the meantime Elessar and Ahmok emerged in the bottom-most chamber where we had fought the horror. With a twist of the mechanism they shut down the beam of light and sealed the rift.
The wind stopped howling, yet the damage was done. Hundreds of horrors raced across the Mist Swamps, destroying everything in their path. I could feel the land around being leached from life.
From the Air Whisper a voice called out to us. It was Raan, the spirit soldier. They had loyally remained behind fending off enemies off the magnificent ship. We were hauled up to the deck where Elessar and Ahmok appeared before us.
We had to get away, and fast!
We told Jarl, who looked like he was sat on by a dragon, to try to fly the ship. He just looked at us weakly and coughed blood.
"We will remain here to fight with you, but we don't have much time. What little powers we have left we'll transfer to you. May the Gods hear your prayers".
And with that the remaining spirit soldiers seemed to meld with us. All my weariness fled out of us. Never before have I felt such power coursing through me.
Jarl bound up from the deck, eyes clear as day and a grin on his face. He quickly ran up to the navigation platform and grasped the wheel.
"Everyone to their posts, you land-lubbers, let's get this girl in the air!".
Somehow we all knew what to do. We unfurled the sails and each of us took an oar. With straining backs we heaved with all our might. It was impossible, but somehow, with a loud , tired groan the Air Whisper righted itself and started to wobble to the air.
We rose high. The destruction that the horrors wreaked was unbelievable. Entire areas were blacked, a sea of creatures writhed and tore at the Earth, probably poisoning it for centuries. In the distance a huge black form hovered over the complex, spewing gouts of flame and turning the whole place into rubble, melting it down and utterly destroying it; it was a dragon.
We rowed and rowed, increasing our distance towards safety.
Panic hit us when in the distance we saw another spec on the horizon. Our heightened senses clearly made it out to be an enemy air ship. The way it was gaining on us there was no chance of escaping the air pirates. Elessar whipped out the summoning stone and called Wolf. Words were exchanged and from the relieved sigh we knew that we were safe. The ship coming towards us was our friend Wolf!
We slowed until the other ship caught up and were quickly boarded by the Trolls, who manned our places and quickly brought the sagging ship back into the air.
Although the Mist Swamps were now plagued by horrors and much work lay ahead, we bested the pirates and slavers, fought the undead, defeated a Horror and it's Constructs, found the Lost Citadel albeit destroying it in the process, and succeeded in thwarting the Hand from finding the Lost Citadel and claiming the 8th Book of Harrow.
Not for a long time have I felt such pride to fight beside Heroes like Jarl Skålder, Ahmok Silanaas, Ivor son of Gunthar and Elessar Silfalas. Now amongst them the name Cyrellion D'Aesh B'Aernon may be sung loud and clear in the Ballads of Barsaive.
The Trolls whipped the ship around, down the road to our next adventure.
THE END
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