11
Raiden
Plated armour smothered the guard. Tufts of sheep’s wool packed between leathers hid every inch of skin. As he raised his lance, a cry rang from his lips. “Stop! Where did you come from!”
The Citadel loomed at the top of the cliff, shining like a pretty golden target.
Leto’s magic had allowed them to sail up to the mossy bank, leading to a secret tunnel Aryn informed them of.
The guard had been wandering the bank, and nearly soiled himself at the deadly ship appearing out of nowhere like a popped bubble.
“What did he say?” Leto signed. A wrap covered the guard’s mouth, and his arms shook as he raised the lance higher, its pointed end nearly nicking Raiden’s nose.
“He said ‘you made me shit myself’,” Raiden signed back and Leto smiled, his lavender eyes flashing once in warning.
Aryn waved his arms, summoning the guard’s attention and approached him slowly.
Aerion stiffened beside Raiden. They’d gathered on the bank of stones and moss, slicked with ocean spray and seaweed.
Bone Rattler was anchored, and a select group of sailors hobbled behind them whilst the rest remained on the ship.
Raiden craned his head back, taking in the layers of balustrades lining the cliff face, fortified by stalagmites erupting from the ground.
They’d been abandoned long ago, during the Galenite War.
He remembered firing cannons here once, watching their enemy fall during a momentary win they’d gained on surpassing South Wharf Station.
Now, it was barren. Lost to walking ghosts of those who’d died long ago in this prison. Unable to pass over to Umbra, their souls trapped here by the empire’s chains. Those souls were his burden to bear. Citizens of Talmon didn’t deserve death, only their wretched leaders.
“I was here before,” Aryn soothed, fishing something from his pouch. “You gave us safe passage from the dungeons. Now I’m asking you to get us in.”
Aerion inhaled sharply as Aryn produced two golden coins. Raiden eyed him suspiciously as the guard spluttered, thrusting his gloved hand out.
“Aye, I’ll take those.” The guard quickly pocketed them before Raiden could glimpse their pattern. They appeared unique, and he didn’t recognise the branding.
The sea quietly lapped behind them. It’d been eerily still as of late. The storms of the Shaurock Sea had disappeared, as if nature were waiting for something—or someone—to make it whole again.
He knew the feeling.
Following the guard through a hidden tunnel, Raiden swerved and ducked around stalactites cascading from the ceiling, muttering as tendrils of seaweed smacked his face.
Skylar sniggered behind him, raising her torch to cast light through the rusted-tone space.
It wound and continued endlessly, and Raiden’s nerves reached the edge, as darkness continued ahead.
Aerion followed Aryn closely, hushed whispers exchanging between the two as the guard sped ahead, his legs rapid.
He flitted around the curves, navigating the tunnel blind, flying past breaks in the walls leading back to the ocean.
After what felt like an eternity, a raging cry echoed ahead, bouncing around the tunnel, causing Raiden’s muscles to curl so tightly he nearly snapped his sword.
They filed out onto a platform, at the base of a spiral walkway. Wind barraged the cave, whipping Raiden’s skin with frostbite, toying with his hair, roaring in his ears. This wasn’t like his usual wind. It didn’t greet him.
No. It wanted him to leave.
He raised a hand, aiming for the ocean flowing through the serrated mouth of the cave. The wind screamed as he forced it back, gritting his teeth against the resistance of his natural element, until he created a barrier at the mouth. Eerie silence fell upon the dungeon.
Skin sizzling, his senses prickled at the lack of tolerance from nature.
Turning to face the walkway, his mouth dried.
Cells upon cells lined it, rising to the top, with planks interspersing it.
At the base were dried, old blood-stained jagged rocks, with odd pieces of skeletons piling up in the shallower waters.
This was a place of death, created outside of the elements, away from the eyes of the gods. It was only natural for Raiden’s magic to weaken in such a place—the winds wanted to rage. They wanted to cry and scream at the stench of ruin and decay. At the violation of their gifts.
“Good gods,” Skylar breathed, taking in the dungeons. “She’s trapped here?”
Aryn faced the guard. “Is Kora Cadell still here? Is she alive?”
The guard grunted, crossing his arms and refusing to answer. Anger spliced through Raiden, and he grabbed the guard by the neck, lifting him off the ground with a growl. “Where is she?”
The winds pushed against his barrier, and his hand clenched at the pull of his power.
“Stop! They’ve taken her upstairs. They’ve cleared out all the cells!” The guard kicked out, gasping for air.
“Why? Where has everyone gone?” Raiden demanded.
“They’re taking them away, to a camp. Barron’s got a second location for prisoners.” Raiden dropped the guard, flexing his fingers, his shimmering diamond layer pulsating with impending violence.
“We need to hurry,” Aryn pressed. “Follow me.” Raiden signed instructions to Leto, and he unsheathed his sword as they followed Aryn up the walkway.
The cells were filthy, lined with waste and slime, and hay that was beyond decomposition.
Every single one had the Talmon Empire insignia etched into the wall, and Raiden glanced away, but was met with scratch marks lining the planks instead.
Bits of fingernails and dried blood coated the ends from prisoners hanging on for their lives.
Kordelia had been sentenced here. She’d been in one of these cells, equally holding on to her life. Living in this . . . squalor. This rife disease. It was fucking inhumane. The barrier on the winds cracked, and shreds of roaring current echoed up the spiral, incensing Raiden’s anger.
As they reached the top, the ceiling came into focus.
Ropes of vines looped down from the earth, taunting prisoners to hang themselves instead of meeting their fates in the wretched depths below.
Bitter, rotting earth permeated the air, and Skylar gagged behind Raiden, covering her mouth.
Her eyes welled, her face slackened with shock at the conditions of the dungeons.
He would make them all pay.
Aryn skidded to a halt, flinging his arms up to stop the convoy.
Raiden whipped his sword out, ready for an attack, but faltered at a frail, old male lingering outside the bars of an open cell.
He pivoted, his wrinkled face scrunching as he peered at each of them individually.
Long grey hair balanced in a bun on the top of his head, his body swathed in a regal empire uniform.
A brown, leather portmanteau bag lay by his feet, filled with bandages and vials of amber liquid.
“Koji,” Aryn exhaled, catching his breath from running up the spiral. “What are you doing here?”
“Who are you?” Koji clasped his slender hands together. His hooded golden eyes landed on Raiden and he stared back unwaveringly.
“Aryn. I was the head archer on Hell’s Serpent.”
“Not you,” Koji dismissed him and pointed at Raiden. “You.”
Raiden swallowed and stepped forward beside Aryn, whose brow furrowed. “I’m Raiden Windward.”
Koji’s eyes flared briefly. “I was wondering when you’d make it here.”
“You knew we were coming?” Aerion asked.
“Someday,” Koji murmured, his vagueness adding to Raiden’s increasing anxiety. “Galen’s return has always been foretold.”
“Koji,” Aryn sighed. “Where’s Kora?”
“Oh, yes,” Koji glanced back to the empty cell. “She was just here. I wanted to see her one last time.”
Hope lifted Raiden’s heart. “Where have they taken her? How long ago did they take her away?” Koji shut his mouth, assessing Raiden as he stooped over the frail male.
Silence continued until Raiden could hear the individual beats of his own heart.
His blood pounded in his ears as time dragged by.
He needed to remain calm . . . but this fucking male. “Answer me now!”
More gods-damned silence. With an infuriated sigh, Raiden banged his fist on the slimy bars. Kordelia had been in this cell. It was damp, reeking of waste and something other.
“He won’t talk easily.” Aryn appeared at his side. They unnervingly looked similar, with familiar shades of gold sparkling in both of their eyes. “Koji is only loyal to one thing.”
“If you say the empire, I will snap his neck.”
“Let’s dial down the violence, Brother,” Aerion cautioned, and Raiden paused as Aryn’s stare slid to Aerion, the hazel overcoming the gold.
“Coins.” Aryn opened his palm to Koji, with what resembled a golden doubloon placed in the centre.
But not quite. Raiden peered at the etchings marring the metal.
Those were runes, and ones he hadn’t seen before.
A chill skittered down his spine at the presence of the coin.
Almost as if the presence of the gods had surfaced with it.
“Where did you get that?” Koji snapped, taking the coin with rapt interest. He twirled it between his bony fingers, the golden coin sliding across his knuckles effortlessly.
“Family heirloom. This should be enough to get you to talk.” Aryn slid a threatening finger across his bowstring.
“Do you have any more?” Koji pressed.
“You’re only getting one,” Aryn retorted. “You like Kora, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Help us save her.”
Koji surveyed them all once again, and Raiden had to suppress his sigh, his fists clenching and unclenching.
They didn’t have time for this. Kordelia was somewhere up above, in the castle.
She was so close, he could feel their bond reigniting in the back of his mind. The slightest vibration of power.
“Miss Cadell has been taken to a final dinner, to make her choice before Barron leaves tomorrow. She’s on the second floor, in the west wing, above the kitchens.” Koji twirled the coin again, his attention wholly fixed on Aryn as he brushed his thumb across the unique rune.
“What choice?” Raiden’s heart quickened.
“Either join Barron, or be drained of her power.” Koji’s stare narrowed on the pouch attached to Aryn’s hips.
“Drained?” Aerion echoed, his face paling. “What could drain someone’s power?”
“It’s not possible.” Skylar shook her head. Leto frowned as one of his sailors signed throughout the whole conversation. His eyes flared at the final part and he stumbled back.
“Many things are possible. Many believed Galen would never return. Yet, here you are, just as I believed.” Koji shrugged his bony shoulders. “What else is in there?”
He reached for Aryn but he stepped back. “What? No.”
“You shouldn’t have those coins. Where did you get them?” Koji raised the coin towards Aryn, suspicion lining every wrinkle in his face.
Raiden stilled as an unfamiliar pulse of power broke through his barrier down below. The winds rushed up, coalescing around them, tearing their hearing from their ears. It roared and bellowed, and Raiden recoiled as his grip on his power vanished.
“They’re mine!” Aryn shouted over the currents. His eyes blazed as Koji’s arm wavered in the force of the wind, the coin matching the burn of his irises, churning like melted gold. With a small jerk of shock, Koji pocketed the coin.
“Rai!” Aerion cried. “I can’t control it!” His hands shook as he tried to force the cyclone down but it pushed back harder, like an invisible beast.
“This way!” Koji shuffled to a set of stone steps, leading them past a creepy mirror-lined staircase, casting haunted shadows between reflections.
They filed into a barracks, coated in a layer of dust, dirt, and blood.
It was pitiful compared to their training room back home.
The weapons blunt and sparse, the targets small and tired.
Skylar gasped at the ceiling. Raiden growled at the depictions of Galenite slaughter, and the empire’s victory over them, standing atop mounds of bodies, including mothers and children. Holy Haizea. A canvas of death, of Barron’s single focal point of conquest, by any means necessary.
“I leave you here,” Koji announced. “The castle has been mostly abandoned, you should be able to get through undetected.”
“Have you seen Sam? Is he here too?” Aryn’s plea cracked the tension, and Raiden grimaced as Aerion stepped closer to Aryn, pity lining his face.
Koji shook his head. “Mr Rommier departed long ago. Shipped to an outpost on the far side of the island as part of Barron’s new training regime. Hence the quiet castle. Barron is moving everyone to his new beacon, the last of them are travelling tomorrow.”
The hope on Aryn’s face shattered, and Aerion placed his palm on Aryn’s shoulder, his fingers squeezing. Raiden nodded to Skylar, who began instructing Leto’s crew, her signing quick and swift as they planned their attack.
“Miss Cadell was a good friend to me. I hope you grant her justice.” Koji glanced to Raiden, who nodded with surprise in return, though it irked him to hear to her referred as Cadell.
Erick deserved a world of pain for what he did, and Raiden would be all too glad to gift it to him with a fucking bow.
“I will. You can count on that.”
“Where will you go?” Aryn asked as Koji turned to leave. He glanced back, studying Aryn once more, curiosity and intrigue oozing from him.
“East.” Koji slipped through a separate door and disappeared into the night without another word.
As they ascended a grand marble staircase, Raiden’s heart thundered with every step . . . but the weight on his chest lifted as the thread in his void ignited with a small ember of life.