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.
“You escaped,” said Argyll, as if he was barely surprised. “What brings you here?”
Farris stepped forward. “The city won’t hold for much longer. If protecting the king is still your highest priority, then I recommend we escort him out from the city. Skirmisher can—”
Argyll raised a hand. “What authority do you have, to come in here and demand what our next actions are?”
“I have no authority,” began Farris. “But we have no real hope of fighting the horde. If their leader really wants the king dead, we must ensure that doesn’t happen.” He gestured towards Nicole. “We are leaving Penance by airship. Anyone who would like to come too can join. The decision is yours, not mine. Will you come?”
“Let’s ask the king himself,” said Argyll, smiling as he bowed to Diarmuid. “What does His Grace think of this plan?”
King Diarmuid sat upright and threw Farris a peculiar glance. “This was not meant to happen,” he muttered. “None of this was. We no longer walk in the Light of the Lady.”
“See,” said Argyll. “His mind is not sound. He is incapable of making a decision for himself.”
Farris paused, considering his next move. He turned towards Padraig. “Captain Tuathil. You have taken responsibility before for the king’s well-being. If anyone is able to answer for His Grace, it is you.”
Padraig threw a peculiar glance from Farris to Argyll. He swallowed deeply. “If I leave, this will be the second time I’ve fled from the horde. But where are we to flee to? Is there any land left untouched by the dead?”
“To the south,” said Farris. “Over the Sea of Storms. We’ll keep flying until we find land.”
Argyll let out a short, sharp laugh. “And then what? Settle? Make a new life for ourselves? Establish a new kingdom?”
A loud crash rang out from below, followed by several scattered screams.
Each strand of hair on Farris’s body stood on end.
It’s over. There’s no escape.
Across the room, Argyll dashed to the window. “They’re here!” he cried; his voice quivering with terror. “They’re filling the streets. One of the gates must have fallen.”
Nicole stepped forward and removed her helm. Her expression was stern and unmoving.
“There is no shame in running when your foe cannot be beaten,” she said. “Come with us if you value your life over some archaic notion of valour. If you do not value your life, then do so for the king you have sworn to protect with it. Spending more lives now will only grow the horde. You can come with us or join the horde and fight against us. Your choice.” With that, she turned to leave without looking back. If she had, she would have seen that even King Diarmuid himself had risen to follow her.
***
“Get behind me!” cried Aislinn, positioning herself in front of Fionn.
The mage held his severed hand against his chest and could do nothing but look up at the great figure that protected him. Plates of Simian steel covered every inch of her body, leaving nothing but her jaw and mouth exposed. In two hands, she gripped a massive greatsword, which she wielded as easily as if it were made of wood. Even with the horde approaching from down the valley, her stance did not waver.
