“And what the Holy Hell is that supposed to mean?”

She was cut short by a low rumble somewhere in the distance. Although the cries of battle in the square before them filled the night, it was the faint thud-thud of footsteps that turned Nicole to shocked silence.

From an alley leading toward the gate stepped a mountain troll. Although near equal in size to the one Farris found in the Glenn, this one differed significantly in its form. A wide, round nose hung over a sneering face, scarred and cut with blood. From its massive belly hung shimmering ropes of entrails, emerging from a long gash from chest to waist. A thick, bloody bone protruded from a broken leg, though this only seemed to affect its stance slightly. It lumbered towards Farris and Nicole, leaving a trail of thick blood behind.

The elk balked, stepping back. The troll’s mass took up most of the alley, leaving Farris and Nicole with no means of escape.

“Would you rather I left you?” asked Farris, offering a hand to Nicole. She didn’t take it, but deftly climbed upon the elk, taking a place behind Farris. She wrapped two hands around his waist.

“Can we outrun it?” she whispered. But Farris didn’t respond. Their only hope was to send the elk charging straight into the troll. Given how terrible a plan this was, Farris opted to keep it to himself.

The troll let out a horrible cry as it plodded forward, now faster than before. Farris held his halberd before him and urged the elk onward. The beast did not respond to his touch. A terrible fear gripped Farris.

There’s no escape. There’s no way out.

A crackling shot rang out from somewhere behind the troll, and the beast suddenly lost its footing. Its massive body fell to the ground with a crash. Behind it, stood a Reaper, a thin stream of smoke rising from its arm. The Reaper looked just like the others, though significantly damaged. Steel stained and torn by battle made up its body, and it had lost its helm. Indeed, the pilot’s own head was only slightly visible over its two massive shoulders.

“Garth!” cried Nicole. “You’re alive! I thought—”

“Run,” said Garth, just as the troll began to stir once more. “There’s not much time.”

The troll forced itself upward with a roar. It swung for the Reaper, but Garth deftly jumped aside. He raised his great firearm and shot at the troll once more. A huge, black ball erupted from the Reaper with a crack of smoke, striking the troll’s chest. The undead beast, however, barely stumbled.

“Get out of here!” cried Garth, as he plunged forward towards the troll. He raised the Reaper’s other arm, shaped like a lance, and forced its tip through the troll’s body.

“I’m not leaving you,” said Farris, urging the elk forward. “We can outrun it. We can—”

“Skies above, Farris, listen to me for once in your life!” Garth pulled his lance from the troll’s stomach, but even as more innards spilled to the ground, the troll still stood. “You were right about the king. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Farris gripped his halberd and went to dismount the elk. Only Nicole’s hand on his shoulder made him hesitate.

“Listen to me,” roared Garth again, readying himself for another strike. “The horde came here for a reason. This girl clearly wants to slay the king. You can’t let that happen. Go to him. Protect him. Fly him across the fucking Eternal Sea if you need to.”

The troll leapt forward, but this time Garth wasn’t so quick. The massive beast fell on top of the Reaper, pinning Garth to the ground.

“What are you waiting for?!” screamed Garth. “Go!”

Farris didn’t remember sending the elk into a gallop. He didn’t remember passing Garth, leaving him alone with the troll. In a daze, Farris rode out into the Saltworks, towards the centre of the city. It was only when he left the fighting behind, and the din of battle was replaced with the silence of the night, that Farris fully comprehend what he had done.

Chapter 30:

Apotheosis

The church teaches that Seletoth created the heavens and the earth, and all the life that dwell in both. But they do not elaborate on why He did this. The Church insists we worship not only Seletoth, but His wife Meadhbh, too, yet they provide no elaboration on why the Lord chose this particular mortal. The writings and teachings of the Church raise far more questions than answers. But when you fully embrace Seletoth in His purest form, He leaves no room for doubt. Some have learned of the true nature of God, but the blinding truth drove them mad. Maybe the Church is protecting us from this same fate, but perhaps they provide no answers because they too are afraid of what they could really mean.

Excerpt from On the True Nature of God, by Hamlan Caithin.

***

The elk’s trot slowed to a stop as Farris and Nicole passed the Tower of Sin. Neither had said anything since leaving the Saltworks, but Farris’s mind raced through the possibilities Garth’s final words implied.

To take Diarmuid away from Alabach, he mused. It’ll keep him safe from Morrígan, perhaps, and they do say there are great lands to the south, but with the Grey Plague….

This thought brought back the memory of the night Farris had killed Chester the Lucky. They had been drinking in a bar on the Cruachan waterfront beforehand. There, Chester had speculated that the Grey Plague was nothing more than a myth produced by the Church to prevent anyone from leaving Alabach.

Skies above, Chester. I hope you were right.

The great House of the Triad appeared ahead of them. The streets of the Shadow of Sin were deathly quiet, but there appeared to be more activity inside the Triad than usual. It seemed as if those who couldn’t fight were sent to the House in response to the horde’s arrival.

They won’t be safe for long. Farris swallowed deeply on recalling the state of the Saltgate. The wall had been breached. The undead were inside. Farris had left dozens of soldiers behind when he fled.

They followed me. I fooled them into following me.

Gritting his teeth, Farris slowed the elk to a stop. Light from inside the building spilled out from the fanlight over the two iron-bound doors, illuminating the steps before him.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing to Nicole as he climbed down from the elk. She was slow to move, but eventually pulled herself down from the mount. With the thick Simian-steel helm covering her face, Farris could only guess at what expression it hid.

They both sprinted up the stairs. Of course, the doors to the Triad were locked shut, but an answer came immediately after Farris pounded upon them.

“Are you seeking refuge?” came the loud, booming voice. “We’ve no more room, but Sin is still taking civilians.”

“We have a message for the king,” said Farris, keeping his voice as stern and official as the one he was responding to. “On the progress of the battle.”

There was a pause. “Any word from the Goldgate?” he asked, less like a guard, and more like a concerned Simian.

“Last I heard, the retreat was sounded,” said Farris. “But the gate still stands.”

The door opened a crack, and the face of the Simian guard appeared. His eyes were wide, and his mouth slightly ajar.

“Plackart sounded the retreat?” he asked. “He’s not one to turn his back on a fight.”

Farris took a step forward. “Are you going to let us in, or would you rather wait for the horde?”

The guard promptly stepped aside, letting Farris and Nicole enter the Triad’s hall. Hundreds of refugees, Humans and Simians alike, filled every inch of the floor. Mothers clutched babies, husbands held their wives, and young children ran back and forth around the encampment, blissfully ignorant of the terror that awaited them. A young Simian boy huddled with his family caught Farris’s eyes. The lad threw him an amusing look, like one would make trying to stop an infant from crying.

Farris smiled back, despite everything. As he weaved through the crowd, he couldn’t help but wonder where he would be tonight if he was a still a child.

I probably would have objected to coming here, he thought, taking the stairs two at a time while Nicole followed behind. But Garth would have brought me. Farris’s throat went dry at the thought. He always got his way in the end.

They passed more guards, and they looked on with hope, perhaps expecting more news from the frontline. Farris averted their gaze. There was no point. The city was going to fall, and Farris’s last hope was to escape. Even if they succeeded, it would mean leaving every person here to the horde.

Skies take me, I couldn’t help the prisoners. I couldn’t help my brother.

He attempted to compose himself as they reached the Triad’s meeting room. Indeed, it was most likely that Argyll would be there, pouring over a map of Penance, carefully planning what was to happen next.

“I have a message for the king,” said Farris to the Simian guard at the door. “He is not expecting me, but the news is urgent.”

Without saying a word, the guard stepped aside. When the door swung open, Farris’s prior convictions were proven partially true. The Silverback indeed was there, but he wasn’t poring over a map of Penance. Instead, he stood with his back to the door, staring out the window at the fallen city. It was Padraig Tuathil who was studying the map of Penance, adjusting the wooden figurines scattered across it and mumbling to himself. King Diarmuid sat alone, his eyes far away, his body rocking back and forth. He too, was whispering to himself, but Farris guessed his words made less sense than the captain’s.