Six of Ruin (Heirs of Irenwell #1)
Chapter 51: Futile

A thick veil of smoke covered the scorching sun, fire licked the stone walls of Orathia, burning everything in its wake, darkness fell upon the square, but the shade didn’t cool the heated stone.

Fire burned through the wooden barricades Torvald and Danilo used to keep Soterios away from the square. They might have been made out of paper for all their worth. Fire ate them up too quickly.

A huge ditch spread from one side of the square to the other; a deep hole that could have only been created by an earthquake. The streets collapsed, buildings cracked, and Soterios’s army could not cross the impromptu moat.

Sounds of the battle rang in my ear, I ducked my head and hid inside the palace. My heart hammered against my chest, my mouth filled with smoke, and fear blinded me from thinking clearly.

Nickeltinker jumped from the palace balconies to the columns to the houses’ rooftops, shooting arrows at the army gathering at our doorstep, throwing exploding concoctions in their faces.

Ace was in the middle of the square, his legs shook and he barely stood, but he kept his arms in the air, causing the shaking of the ground around the square. He created the moat around the square, I realised, but it wasn’t enough.

There were dozens of cultists on the other side, taking down trees and pushing them over the moat, creating bridges. Rixen and Danilo waited on the other side, ready to fight any cultist that dared to step on the palace grounds. Frank used his hooves to widen the moat and sheer strength to push the trees into it.

Torvald was now a literal giant. He stood almost as tall as the smaller houses, his tense muscles burst through his clothing, leaving nothing but a patch around his waist. Blackness spread over his skin, reaching his head, his teeth, his eyes. He was tall enough to reach to the other side and swipe the cultists into the deep moat like they were nothing but bugs.

But he was hurt. Arrows penetrated his skin, black blood poured down his skin. The cultists focused on him, deciding he was the hardest to take down. Once they managed that, they’d be able to cross to the square.

Soterios was nowhere in sight; the fire burning through the city the only evidence of his involvement.

Shouts and screams and roars attacked my ears, the smell of burning flesh and burning trees assaulted my nostrils, and the smoke burned my eyes. My senses were overwhelmed and my mind raged with meaningless thoughts, all collapsing into nothingness, emptiness.

“Up the cliffs!” Ace shouted, his voice cracking through the screams. “The square won’t hold if I tear down more ground!”

He looked like he was about to collapse; the same paleness I’ve seen in the basement now washed over his face, his legs shook, his arms quivered. He couldn’t fight Soterios, he wouldn’t win.

“Up the cliff!” Rixen turned to Nickeltinker, who jumped from rooftop to rooftop, throwing anything he could replace at the cultists; stones, rocks, bricks.

Nickeltinker jumped to the square, his foot slipping. My breath hitched.

Rixen grabbed his hand before he could fall to his death.

I looked up at the cliffs surrounding the palace. There was no way up. We wouldn’t make it. I ran back inside, through the great hall. There had to be another way.

Surely, Orathians built a way out of the palace on the other side. There must have been a pathway that led to the forest. After all, that was how the last Orathian King escaped his doom. The great hall filled up with smoke, which entered my lungs and my eyes. I coughed out, trying to navigate through the palace.

There was the basement, but that meant certain death.

They might have built the way to the ocean.

Confused, scared and helpless, I wandered through the great hall, until Ace entered the building and collapsed on the ground, sweating and grunting. His entire body shook, saliva and tears dripped from his chin. His loyal warthog followed him, pushing Ace up, preventing him from falling.

“How do we get out of here?!” I shouted, not knowing what to do with myself.

“We take down the entire city.” Ace grunted, his face distorted with pain.

Danilo stumbled through the door, “How do we climb up the cliffs?”

He was covered in blood; arrows pierced his skin in places, bruises covered his bare arms, his sword was battered. The warthog licked his wounds, letting out low, sad whimpers.

“There must be a way through the palace!” I said. “They must have built a way out!”

“Maybe.” Ace leaned against the wall and breathed deeply. “Water, give me water.”

I dug through my satchel and threw the bottle his way. He drank greedily.

Danilo looked around, “The palace is etched into the cliff. The only way I can think of is through the basement.”

“I have to stay above ground.” Ace shook his head. “I can’t create more moats if I’m underground. If I want to take down the city, I have to go up.”

“You can’t take down a mountain.” Danilo paced around, his nervous glance escaping to the battlefield outside.

“No, but I may be able to take down a peninsula.” Ace wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Get out of here, keep them off the square. I need a moment, my strength is wavering.”

“Where the fuck is Soterios?” I asked.

“Probably preserving his strength, which is what I should be doing.” Ace’s knees gave out and he collapsed on the ground.

Danilo hesitated for a moment, and returned to the battlefield, the warthog followed him. I glimpsed through the gates of the palace. A couple of cultists managed to cross the moat, Rixen singlehandedly fought them until Danilo joined in.

There was something graceful in the way they moved. Their weapons sliced through the air and the enemies’ throats, blood sprayed all around, colouring the white stone deep dark red. Sweat poured down their foreheads, their faces distorted and their muscles tensed, but their strength did not waver.

They fought with everything they had; their passion, anger and hatred. But most importantly, they fought to protect each other.

Nickeltinker tied a rope to the top of the marble column and swung through the crowd of cultists, his dagger slicing across their skin. Torvald and Frank pushed the tree-made bridges into the moat, taking the cultists down with them, but there were too many of them.

Magic coursed through my veins, strong, powerful and determined, but I didn’t know what to do with it. Mindlessly, aimlessly, I sent it out, trying to enter any cultist’s head, but I failed. Ace was right. Perhaps my magic wasn’t weak, but it meant nothing if I didn’t know how to use it.

Then, emerging from the fire like an invincible apparition, Soterios appeared. Dressed completely in black, no weapons in hand, and a determined, hard expression on his face, he stepped in front of the moat. The cultists looked at him with admiration and resolve. They would fight for him to the death, seduced by the idea of power, magic and immortality.

I stumbled back into the palace, “He’s here.”

Soterios glanced up at the palace and with a single blink, set the entire left wing on fire. Heat spread through the great hall, followed by acrid, black smoke. I coughed out, my breath getting stuck in my throat.

“Alright.” Ace pulled himself up. “Tell everyone to get in here.”

I rushed to the door, and stopped there. My eyes widened.

Soterios nodded once.

Rixen and Danilo let out animalistic shrieks and let go of their weapons. The metal sizzled and burned, turning bright red, until it melted into shimmering puddles on the ground. The cultists took the opportunity.

One of the flung himself into Danilo, but the warthog pushed him away before he could do any damage.

Like a fool, I aimed my magic towards Soterios, but nothing happened. His mind was a solid, burning shield and pain sliced my mind as I tried to penetrate through it.

“Inside!” I shouted, another fit of cough shushing my words. “Inside, now!”

Nickeltinker listened to me, his rope swung all the way to the square and his feet landed near me.

“The palace is on fire!” The floran’s gentle eyes widened and he pointed at the burning left wing. “We’re not going to make it!”

But I couldn’t think straight, not when another cultists grabbed Rixen and they both stumbled to the edge of the moat. The cultist was strong and big, far bigger than Rixen, but he lacked the coordination.

My legs gave out, “Rixen!”

And then, nothing could stop me. I grabbed Nickeltinker’s dagger and ran to the middle of the square.

“Irina!” Nickeltinker rushed after me, his voice lost in the background. “A bad idea, a very, very bad idea!”

But I didn’t care. Rixen’s feet moved closer to the moat, closer to death, and I ran. The dagger in my hand began to burn, the searing pain stinging my palm, but I held it tight. My mind somehow blocked the pain and I slammed the tip into the cultist’s neck, evoking a deep, primal cry as the blood trickled down his neck and his back.

Rixen grabbed the man’s shoulders and pushed him into the moat.

Our eyes met for the briefest moment. But the moment was enough to realise our connection was gone. All the love that shone in his golden eyes didn’t reach me, it didn’t tingle my soul the way it used to. There was nothing.

There was also no time to think about it.

Rixen grabbed my hand as the ground beneath us began to shake. I glanced at the palace; Ace was on the ground, both of his hands glued to the floor, whispers falling off his lips.

“Inside!” Nickeltinker shouted. “Come on!”

Soterios crossed the moat over the fallen tree almost elegantly, without a care in the world. The fire devoured the palace from top to bottom. Torvald and Frank were exhausted, their movements limp and lethargic. My hand burned and sizzled, blisters covering my entire palm, and the pain finally reached me.

I cried out, almost stumbling over my feet, as we ran to the entrance. The ground beneath us turned hot, burning through the soles of our shoes. We began to hop, rushing to the palace. But there, in the shade of the stone fort, Ace winced and lifted his hands from ground, his chanting breaking.

Heat spread in waves; melting our footwear, the metal, even the marble. Pain bit my skin, smoke began to lift from my hair, sweat coated my forehead, sliding down my neck and my back.

“Goddammit!” Nickeltinker shouted. “He’s going to cook us alive! Someone needs to distract him!”

Ace shook his hands, gritted his teeth and glued his palms back to the floor. Veins on his neck and forehead bulged, but he kept on chanting. Ground continued to shake. One by one, we entered the palace, replaceing little comfort in the shade.

Smoke danced around us, heavy and suffocating, with nowhere to escape. Frank licked his skin, panting heavily, Nickeltinker hopped around, blowing on his burned hands, Rixen and Danilo looked around for weapons.

But Torvald remained outside.

Panic surged through me as the giant walked straight towards the fire mage, pitch-black axe in hand, determination in his steps.

“Torvald!” Ace shouted. “Neither the time nor place, get over here!”

“No!” The brute shouted, coming closer and closer.

Soterios didn’t move. The fire didn’t burn him, the heat didn’t wound him, and Torvald’s size didn’t scare him. His eyes merely glided over us and back to Torvald.

Fire burst around the giant, climbing up his legs, licking his skin, and devouring what remained of his clothing. The giant shrieked; the sound impossibly loud and piercing and painful. My mouth fell open, breath stuck in my throat.

“Torvald!” Rixen shouted, but Danilo grabbed him before he managed to run outside.

Torvald screamed and screamed as fire ate him up. I couldn’t force myself to look at it. My heart yearned to do something, to help him, to set him free. Rixen trashed against Danilo, but he was weak and tired, and Danilo was still physically stronger and bigger. Silent tears poured down my cheeks, washing away the heat.

My mind unscrambled itself enough to realise magic burst through my veins, begging me to let it out. I stared at Torvald and let the magic out, not knowing what it might do. Burning spread through my skin and I hissed.

Torvald’s screaming ceased. Fire danced around him, orange and red and yellow licks still ate through his skin, revealed the pale pink flesh underneath, charred his face black, but he didn’t seem to feel it.

I fell to the ground, pain twisting my soul in half.

Torvald grabbed a hold of his axe and swung. Cultists fell one by one as the pitch-black axe cut through their skin, their heads, their bellies. They fell down the moat, their lives ending in burning agony.

“He has to get away!” Ace shouted, his teeth grinding against each other. “The entire thing is going to collapse!”

“Torvald!” Rixen yelled. “Get over here!”

But Torvald was already dead, his soul just didn’t know it yet.

Pain continued to twist my guts and Torvald swung his axe, trying to reach Soterios. But the mage was swift and agile, like fire itself, and he avoided each critical hit. The concrete around them cracked, chunks of stone fell into the hole. Cultists slipped to their death.

The fire mage disappeared in the smoke, leaving Torvald alone on the square.

The giant faced us; chunks of skin fell of his face, revealing bones and pink flesh underneath, fire licked his body, taking a piece of him with each moment.

Torvald smiled, “I hope I’ve served mankind.”

The concrete cracked. The piece of stone he stood on collapsed, taking him down into the bottomless moat.

“No!” Rixen shouted, but he couldn’t move, Danilo held him firmly in place.

The warthog growled, grunted, then whimpered, his hooves scratching against the ground. We retreated into the palace, using the moment of Soterios’s distraction.

“The heat stopped.” Nick looked around, wide-eyed. “The heat stopped! Come on, Ace, it’s now or never!”

But Ace lay on the ground, his eyes closed.