74. Aedon
74
AEDON
“ T here’s no time for questions!” Aedon called to his companions as they straggled behind him. “Just trust me—and run!”
They dashed through the dark halls with the remaining dregs of their strength, up through the levels of Afnirheim, until the sounds of battle before them were deafening and growing by the second. Aedon changed direction at the last minute, circumventing the great space that had become a battlefield and treacherous sea of dead and dying, taking them higher to the galleried walkways. Shrieking and shouting behind them gave away their pursuers. Aedon chanced a glance back—too close for comfort.
He looked ahead once more. The stone doors at the other end of the bridge were too far away to reach. Natural light spilled in, calling them to freedom. Aedon dug deeper and sped up, though every muscle screamed. Behind him, Brand’s thunderous steps quickened, too. Yet the goblins were faster, and before they made the door, Brand, Erika, and Aedon had to turn to meet the attack.
Their purloined weapons were paltry protection compared to those they had lost in the depths of the battle, but Brand and Erika were skilled enough fighters to turn any weapon to their advantage. Aedon was glad to stand with them as he brandished the broken blade he had taken. It was of dwarven forging but had been made less than noble by its goblin owners, who had replaced the handle with bone—whose, he did not care to wonder—and shattered the mighty blade so it was short and cruelly edged.
They spread out, three abreast across the walkway. Aedon darted forward, slicing through a goblin’s arm and causing him to drop his trident with a shriek. His kin filled the gap, seemingly endless, as Aedon and his companions fought them off, all the while shuffling one step backward at a time to the door, and the possibility of safety. After a few minutes that seemed like an age to their faltering bodies, they passed under the great, stone arch. Before them, goblins trampled their fallen kin with no reverence, their sole attention on the three before them.
“We cannot make it,” gasped Erika. “If we turn and run, we will be cut down where we stand. I will not die a coward’s death with a blade in my back!”
“I will cover your exit. Go!” cried Brand, taking a huge, scything swing at the first of the goblins. It leapt out of the way of his blade—but the next one died where it stood.
“No!” said Aedon. “We leave together! Now!”
They launched one final assault to push the goblins back, then dashed through the open stone doors. As Erika and Aedon heaved upon them, closing them one painstaking inch at a time, Brand stood in the opening, pushing back the goblins, earning more injuries for his bravery.
At last, he leapt back and lent his strength to their efforts, shutting the doors with a boom. He wedged a broken length of wood in the place where the original bar, which was smashed and twisted upon the floor, ought to have gone, then bellowed for them to run. Run they did, up the huge flight of stairs that was wide enough for ten men to climb alongside, toward the faint light ahead that signalled the riven doors of Afnirheim, the outside, and their hope of escape.
Aedon’s elven strength and Brand’s Aerian power carried them up the stairs faster than Erika. All Aedon could hear was the pounding of his own heart and his ragged, tearing breath, as his feet pounded toward freedom—until the doors yielded behind them, splitting Brand’s makeshift bar in half with a splintering crash, and the goblins surged through, faster than Aedon and his comrades could outpace them.