The six warriors clad in rune-marked steel marched slowly into the chamber, crimson light swirling and flickering with the dust.
For a brief moment, there was silence, only dirt crunching beneath boots, and then the first of the warriors swung theircrimson blade and carved a rising man in half with a single stroke, and the chamber descended into chaos. Lorian soldiers flooded in around the silver-clad warriors, hundreds of them.
Coren pulled on threads of each elemental strand and summoned her níthral in her fist, a spear that burned bright white. She grabbed Ella by the collar. “Take whoever you can and run. The sally port lies in a chamber behind the armoury, marked by a red stone. Go!”
Farwen stepped between them and pushed Coren towards the tunnel. “You go with her.”
“I’m not?—”
“You are whole, Coren. Aldryn needs you. Your fight is not over, but I am tired. Syndril calls to me.” She looked to Moras and Thacia, the two Jotnar Rakina stepping from the dust. “We will hold them here, and we will leave them bloody.”
Tears were already dripping from Coren’s nose and chin. She knew the look in Farwen’s eyes. Knew the acceptance and certainty for what it was. If they all stayed, they would all die. She grabbed the hair at the back of Farwen’s head and pulled them both together. “I could never have survived without you.”
“And I would never have wanted to without you.” Farwen pulled away. “You are the greatest soul I have ever known. Being near you has been my privilege. You are not alone anymore. Escape this place and fly beside him.”
“I was never alone,” Coren whispered.
“Neither was I.”
Coren wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood straight. She grasped Farwen’s forearm. “Die well, sister.”
The words brought a cracked smile to Farwen’s lips. She nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Live better.”
With that, Farwen turned to face the monstrous steel-clad warriors, who were tearing a path through the surviving rebels, and the soldiers flowing through in their wake.
Both Thacia and Moras inclined their heads to Coren. But as Moras joined Farwen, Thacia paused and held Coren’s gaze.
“Aldryn lives?” There was no judgement in her eyes, though Coren would have held nothing against her for it. She and Farwen had not told a soul.
“He does.” Coren couldn’t help but allow the shame and guilt to seep into her voice. She had lied to the others all these years, shared their pain when she knew nothing of it.
“Keep him safe,” Thacia said. “I would give everything in this world to have Myrax by my side again. Now I will go to his instead. Tell Calen Bryer I am proud to have called him kin. And I am sorry for failing him.”
Thacia gave a slight bow and opened herself to the Spark, threads swirling around her as she charged into the fray.
Coren allowed herself a heartbeat to watch as her friends, her kin, fought to give her and the others time.
Dragonbound by fire, Broken by death. Here we wait. Here we rest. Until we are called to make whole what is half.
She grabbed Ella by the arm and pushed her towards the tunnel mouth. “Go!”
“But we can help, we can?—”
“Go, or they die for nothing! Tarhelm is lost. We must save as many as we can.”
“We can make a difference,” the man with wolfhead pauldrons said, his voice calm.
“Can you lay low ten thousand souls? Twenty? Thirty?”
He shook his head.
Ella stared at Coren, the gold in her eyes supplanted by a vivid blue for just a moment. She nodded and turned for the tunnel, shouting, “Fall back! With me!”
The Angan and the man with wolfhead pauldrons followed her, as did any warriors not embroiled in the fighting at the gates.
As Coren did the same, Asius came stumbling through suspended dust, a shard of wood the size of Coren’s arm sticking from his right shoulder, blood smeared across his chest.
She pushed him towards the tunnel and ran, calling out for the others to fall back.