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The gate took them directly into Tephyss’s cavern. What had once been filled with brilliant blue-white light was now dimly lit with smoking torches and reeked with the stench of sweat and unwashed bodies. As Dusk stepped through, a room full of faces turned in his direction. Most of them were familiar, even after being away for so long. But a few in black hoods were not. With an arrow already nocked, Dusk didn’t hesitate for an instant. He pulled the arrow back before a single word could be uttered and released it towards the nearest Circle member, the new unicorn hair bowstring catching the light. With a dull thunk the wooden shaft sunk deep into the man’s eye socket and he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
Then all hell broke loose.
The guards were the first to draw their swords, shouting to one another as they rushed forward. There were three other Circle members left that Dusk could see. Ignoring the guards he turned his sights on another hooded figure, swiftly drawing another arrow from his quiver. They were already pulling their pouches open, dipping their fingers into the dust. He had to take them out before they got a chance to cast.
More bodies rushed through the gate behind him, crying out as they appeared in the cavern. Remembering their orders, the guild dashed toward the cloaked figures, knowing they posed the most danger. A handful of bolts whizzed past Dusk’s head and he released his second arrow. True to their aim, the barrage struck the figures, filling the Circle members with holes before they could cast their destruction upon them.
“Don’t let any of the guards escape!” Dusk cried, pulling another arrow from his quiver. Using it to point, he gestured to a gap at the end of the room that led to the rest of the mines. “No one is to leave this room!”
Ciaran, hearing Dusk’s orders, sprinted forward as he pulled two curved scimitars off his back. Grinning like a demon he dove under the first guard's swing and brought both blades across his abdomen, slicing through the armor and dropping him where he stood. Another came for him, but he dodged to the opposite side and drove a single blade into the guard’s back, severing his spinal cord. Another two men, seeing what he’d done, turned toward the exit to the cavern, their heels digging into the stone as they ran. Dusk watched Ciaran’s eyes lock on them as he charged in their direction. At the last moment he fell to the ground and slid across the stone on his greaves, blades outstretched, running them across the backs of the guard’s knees. With their tendons severed they crumpled to the ground, no longer able to run and crying out in pain. Ciaran didn’t hesitate as he dispatched them both with two heavy swings, nearly beheading them in the process.
Dusk tore his gaze away from the massacre, pulling his bow up, ready to help anyone in need. Lex wasn’t far away, facing off with a guard carrying a wicked looking spear. But Lex, as always, was too fast and the spear was nearly useless against his rapier. He made quick work of the guard as his blade pierced between the man’s ribs and into his heart.
Tara and Diana weren’t far off, taking out a guard each as they stood back to back. The other guild members rushed in behind them, downing the remaining few. Dusk turned about, looking at the slaves that had frozen in place. Some of them still cradled pieces of Tephyss’s skeleton in their arms while others were pressed up against the carts, worried they might be next. All of them had a look of fear in their eyes. Dusk knew he would have felt the same in their position. Strangers in the mine could only mean trouble and probably punishment at the cruel hands of Maxon.
He lifted a hand in the air, calling the other guild members to be silent, straining to hear further into the cavern. A few seconds passed without a hint of rushing boots or jostling armor. He breathed a sigh of relief. For the moment, they were unnoticed, but it wouldn’t last long.
Scanning the crowd Dusk’s gaze came to rest on a tall, almost skeletal figure with wiry muscles and a kind face. It was hard to forget Ox, even after all the time he’d spent away from the mine. Handing his weapon off to Lex, he walked up to Ox with a smile on his face.
“Hey Ox,” he said in a soft voice. “Do you remember me?”
Ox didn’t reply, he just shook his head.
“It’s me, Dusk. They shipped me off a few months ago to be sold.”
“Dusk,” Ox whispered. “Dusk.” He rolled the name across his tongue, as if tasting it for a hint of memory. “Dusk... I think... yes I remember. You were here for a long time.”
“Ten long years,” Dusk replied. He knew how easy it had been to forget those that just disappeared, so he was surprised Ox remembered him at all. The mines had a way of stealing things like names and faces away from its inhabitants. “I remember you. You were born here in the mines and you’re a cart-puller. You always kept a little salt in your pocket to help make the food taste better.”
Ox reached in his pocket and pulled out a small pinch of red salt. He looked down at it with the faintest hint of a smile. “You’re right.”
“We aren’t here to hurt any of you,” Dusk said, raising his voice so the rest of the slaves could hear. “In fact, we’re here to set you free.” He looked up at Ox. “Is Maxon still in charge?”
Ox nodded.
“Good,” Dusk growled. “By the end of this day the mines will be yours to do what you please with or leave behind entirely.”
Ox stared at him blankly, a cow-like expression on his face. Dusk knew he could expect little else. Most of the slaves would have a similar reaction after being beaten into submission by long years of hard labor. But in time they’d come around.
He turned to address the room. “Please put down your pickaxes and any of the crystals you carry. It’s all to be left here. Once we’ve cleared away the guards and the foreman, you’re free to do what you like. We’ll call you up once the deed is finished. Until then we ask that you all stay here and keep quiet.”
Dusk patted Ox gently on the arm, causing him to flinch. A small wave of guilt washed over him, but he just smiled warmly and turned back. The rest of the slaves wore blank expressions as well, although he saw a few glancing down at the bodies strewn across the floor. They were scared of Dusk and his followers, but knew anything was worth enduring if it meant avoiding the punishment of the foreman, so they stayed still. He needed to save them from this hell they were trapped in and he was determined to do it. Taking his bow back from Lex he stepped up to the rest of his allies.
“Get them to the back of the cavern and out of sight,” he said. “But be gentle. These people are used to being beaten for breathing too loudly, much less anything else. This is more excitement than they’ve had to deal with in a long time.”
The guild members broke away and began to herd the slaves like cattle to the back of the cavern. Dusk took a moment to gather up the pouches from the dead Circle members. One of them had spilled across the floor and another was soaked with blood, but two still remained. Cutting them from their belts he gave one to Cyrilo and kept the other for himself. The horn was still in his bag and he wanted to avoid using it until they absolutely needed it.
Glancing across the room he noticed the mounds of coins had been cleared away and the ground was no longer slick with dust. Instead it was littered with small stones and broken crystal fragments. As his eyes came to rest on Tephyss, he felt a small gasp escape his lips. The once massive and beautiful creature that had been perfectly preserved in shining crystal was almost unrecognizable. The wing had been carved off the ceiling and the long tail completely ripped from the floor. Most of the neck and hindquarters were gone, already taken away by the slaves. A large hollow had been carved out of his chest, where Dusk assumed the broken piece of the heart had once been. Massive chunks were taken out of his neck and back, giving Dusk a clear view of his head on the other side. The horns were broken and the once serene face of Tephyss had been chipped away, leaving nothing but a hunk of blue stone glowing on the floor.
When they’d first arrived, he’d had the idea to take another piece of Tephyss to give to Cyrilo so they would both have plenty of magic. But seeing the blatant disregard for the final resting place of the dragon king drove the thought from his mind. He couldn’t bring himself to damage Tephyss any further even if he wanted to. For the first time he was glad Lyra had been too big to come with them. Seeing her lover in such a state of disrespect would have driven her to madness and with good reason.
Tearing himself away from the devastation in front of him, Dusk walked back to the group. The slaves had been moved away from the cavern exit and the others were awaiting his orders.
“Kill anyone in a black cloak, and the guards,” Dusk said, his voice easily filling the silence. “And if you see a fat man giving them orders, leave him alive. He’s mine.”
The guild nodded, drawing their weapons once more. Dusk pulled his own bow and nocked another arrow. He had some hunting of his own to do. With a final nod he led them forward through the cavern toward the main shaft of the mine.
It was almost too easy. As they moved through they found very few guards in the passages. The slaves they came across stayed silent and stepped out of the way without prompting, keeping their heads turned toward the ground. Before any guard had a chance to spot them, their body hit the ground with a bolt buried in the back of their head. Diana hadn’t been joking when she said her men were the best the guild had to offer. The speed and ease with which they dispatched their enemies was impressive and frightening. The guards had no reason to feel unsafe in the mine with all the slaves submissive and subdued. It made them easy targets. In less than an hour, every guard inside the mine was dead and the slaves pushed behind the group as they made their way towards the light at the end of the tunnel.
Before they could reach it, a figure stepped into the blinding sunlight, glancing down the tunnel. A bolt whizzed past Dusk’s head and due to the glaring sun, struck the figure in the shoulder. He cried out in pain, reeling backwards and out of sight. Dusk could hear him shouting across the encampment, summoning everyone left to defend the mines.
“To the front!” Dusk yelled over his shoulder, sprinting toward the mouth of the cave.
A moment later the group burst into the sunlight, temporarily blinded. The sound of boots and metal armor filled their ears as the forewarned guards rushed them. Dusk whirled about as his eyes tried to adjust. He saw a figure barrelling towards him and before he could pull up his bow he saw the flash of steel. Bracing for impact, he threw his arms up in front of him. But instead of feeling pain, he heard a loud clash of metal. Looking up he saw Ciaran, his scimitars crossed in front of him, trapping the guard’s sword. With a swivel of his wrists he wrenched the blade free and skewered the guard without hesitation. Dusk nocked his arrow and pulled the bow up, firing as another figure rushed them. The arrow plunged into his throat and he dropped his weapon, sinking to his knees in front of Ciaran before falling to the side, blood pouring out of his mouth.
Ciaran nodded to him and rushed off. Dusk pulled another arrow and began to fire, dropping guards left and right who were locked in combat with his friends. Cries filled the air along with the stench of blood as the grass was slowly painted with it. The battle only lasted a handful of seconds before at least twenty guards lay dead in front of them. More than one of the guildsmen were clutching at a shallow slash on their arm or a graze on their forehead, but most were unharmed yet. The bowmen still held their crossbows aloft, pointing them toward the other end of the clearing. Dusk followed their line of sight until his eyes came to rest on a meaty-looking man flanked by several armored guards in full plate.
The fat man stared at him, his thick arms planted on his waist with a cocky grin painted across his face. “Well well, if it isn’t our little runaway. Bit early in the day for you to be making an escape, isn’t it?”
Dusk felt his blood begin to boil immediately. He pulled his bow up, arrow pointed directly at Maxon’s forehead. Two of the guards closed in immediately, large wooden shields blocking Maxon from view.
“You’re awfully foolish to come back here,” Maxon said from behind the shields. “Although I shouldn’t be surprised. Even a beaten dog comes back to its master eventually.”
“I order you to stand down,” Lex yelled, stepping forward with his rapier aimed towards the guards. “I am Alexander d’Ronja IV and you will surrender this instant. This mine is my property and as such your loyalty lies with me.”
“Pah!” Maxon scoffed, laughing to himself. “Nice try boy! That little brat is dead, Lord Tiernan told me that himself. If all of you want to live to see another dawn you’ll put down your weapons and give up this foolishness. Either that, or you can all die, I really don’t care which.”
“The only person who’s going to die today is you!” Dusk yelled back.
Maxon laughed. He was toying with them, just like he did everyone. Dusk’s anger got the better of him and he let his arrow fly. It flew across the clearing and sank into the wooden shield where Maxon’s head would have been. The guard reached over and easily broke the shaft away with his metal gauntlet. Maxon pushed the shield aside and stepped forward.
“A disappointment as always. I grow bored of this,” he said simply. “Kill them.”
All the guards lifted their weapons and began to march forward in slow formation. Arrows and bolts flew from the guild archers, but bounced harmlessly off the metal plate. The guards were too quick with their shields and too well covered by the plate armor, leaving very little exposed. Dusk took a step back, wondering what he should do, the others looking to him for guidance as the soldiers closed in.
Before he could say anything he saw a golden glow form off to his left. Glancing to the side he saw Cyrilo drawing a large rune in the air, his fingertips glowing brightly and two empty pouches laying on the ground in front of him. As he made the last slash the rune exploded into a thousand sparks with a bang. The sparks hovered for a moment before they shot forward and attached themselves to the heavy metal armor of the guards. They looked on for silent seconds, not understanding what had happened.
Dusk saw the waves of heat first, then the glowing of the metal as the armor began to heat up wherever the sparks had touched it. The guards, feeling the heat, tried to scrub the magic off, but it had already buried itself in the metal. As the iron began to glow the guards threw their weapons and shields to the ground. They cried out in anguish as they tried to tear the armor from their bodies, but they were too well strapped in. Some of them ran for water, but never made it, while others continued to struggle. Time slowed down as each one of them began to burn, their clothing under the armor going up in flames. The smell of burning hair and meat assailed the group's nostrils as they watched in horror. The most inhuman noises began to fill the air as they all slowly burned to death inside their own armor, trapped by their own defenses. One by one they collapsed to the ground, the grass scorching beneath them and black smoke pouring from between the plates.
The only one left standing was Maxon, having not armored himself at all in his arrogance. His face was frozen in horror, his eyes darting back and forth at the smoking piles of armor filled with burnt corpses all around him. He looked back at Dusk, no words escaping his open mouth. Dusk still had an arrow trained on him. All he had to do was let go.
“I’ve dreamed about this day for more than ten years,” Dusk growled. “Each time you came near me I wanted to put my pickaxe in your skull, even if it cost me my life. How many people have you killed over the years? Tortured? Molested? And for what? The sheer joy of it? Or just to prove that you’re the one in charge?”
Maxon didn’t reply.
“You don’t deserve to live.” Dusk let the tension out of the bowstring, dropping it to his side. “But I’ve seen where the path of vengeance leads and I refuse to take it.”
Diana motioned for her men to stand down and each of them lowered their weapons. Tara stuck the tip of her sword into the dirt, crossing her hands over the pommel as she stared Maxon down. Ciaran dropped his blades to the ground and caught Cyrilo as he swayed. The magic had taken its toll and he fell into Ciaran’s arms, unconscious from his spell. Only Lex kept his sword at the ready. Together he and Lex stepped forward, coming face to face with Maxon.
Dusk was surprised to see how small and frightened he looked without his guards. Dusk reached down and ripped the whip off Maxon’s belt, throwing it to the side. He stared down into those terrified eyes, a feeling of power flowing through him.
“P-please,” Maxon stammered. “D-don’t hurt me.”
“I’m going to give you one chance,” Dusk whispered, leaning in close. “If you can make it to the treeline,” he said, pointing over Maxon’s shoulder, “you’ll be free. You have ten seconds before we begin to shoot, one arrow afor each of the marks you carved into my arm over the years. Think you can make it?”
Maxon swallowed hard, his eyes darting back and forth as the sweat gathered on his brow.
“I’ll turn around and count. You better get going.”
Dusk turned on the spot.
“One.”
Silence.
“Two.”
He wasn’t running. Maybe he wanted to die.
“Three.”
Before he could say the next number he saw a flash of movement to his right and heard a gasp of pain. Spinning around he saw Maxon standing with a dagger in his hand, raised in Dusk’s direction. However, Lex’s blade slipped delicately between his third and fourth rib. Both he and Maxon stood perfectly still, their eyes locked on one another.
“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Lex growled and gave the blade a sharp twist.
The dagger fell from Maxon’s hand as Lex ripped the sword from his chest. Blood poured out of the wound like a spigot on a barrel. He groped at it for a moment, then looked up at Dusk. Reaching forward, his hand grasped at Dusk’s armor, leaving a smeared bloody handprint in the center of his chest. The light left Maxon’s cruel eyes and he sank to the ground, never to rise again.