The mood was heavy as the group made their way back to the Emberdrift Hearth after the auction. Though their resolve had hardened they felt impotent at the daunting expanse of the system before them. As the door to their room snicked shut with a soft click behind them the sounds of the outside world were muted. The quiet that filled the room was weighted with the tension and raw unspoken fury at what they had witnessed.

  Lianna moved to stand near the window and looked out over the streets and city below. Her arms were crossed, and she gripped them tight enough that her claws bit into the fabric of her sleeves. Outside the golden green light of the moon Vitalora filtered through the panes casting a soft glow around the woman only highlighting the tension in her stance and shoulders. Frostclaw had taken up a position near his lady, offering her emotional support as his tail flicked feeding off her tension.

  Part of what they had been doing while in the city was collecting information on who the major players were in the slave trade, which noble’s or noble houses bought slaves regularly, which mercenary companies were most involved and in what type of slave, and which merchants had their hands in the market as well. They also had complied as much information about those parties as they could, locations, estates, trade routes, basically anything that could be used to track or find them. That information was crucial to what they were planning next.

  Ella had moved and subsequently leaned over the rough wooden table, already spreading out a new clean map. “That noble who bought her,” she said grimly. “I caught the crest on his signet, it was House Venmire. Lord Halvaric Venmire most likely. His estate is in Blackspire Hollow, along one of the south ridges of the Ironspire foothills.”

  Xavier stepped in beside her, jaw tight. “Venmire…” He had heard the name during their time in the city. His stomach twisted at some of the rumors of what the man did behind the closed gates of his estate. He didn’t have to finish the thought. The name was already crawling through Sihri’s mind.

  Sihri didn’t look up from where she sat tightening her knuckle wraps. Though she had only just been brought back to Ironhaven recently it was not her first time within the walls of the well-established slave city. Rumors of various nobles and other well-known slave purchasers spread throughout the cells faster than water fell from the sky. “A slaver aristocrat. Known to favor ‘trophies.’ Especially rare Animari bloodlines, playthings from what the rumors are. As a noble he is also protected by court law. After all slaves are just property and he can do what he wishes with his property.”

  Lianna’s voice was a low snarl. “That Lynari girl will disappear behind his walls. If we wait, she is gone.” The anger and angst in her voice at the girl’s plight was evident.

  Xavier gave a sharp nod. “Then we don’t wait.” Moving to where Ella was over the map he studied it for a moment then tapped a roadway trailing through the foothills between Ironhaven and Blackspire Hollow. “He’s a noble right? He won’t skulk or hide he will travel in the open, brazenly. It is clear that slavery is endorsed here so he has no reason to fear retribution. His caravan likely left just after the auction with the city gates held open for his departure. This is the most direct route for him to take home, following the trade slope east and then veering north into his estate. His guards will likely be lax this close to Ironhaven and won’t expect an ambush.”

  Ella nodded in agreement however Lianna moved to join them and narrowed her eyes. “If he has already departed, we will not beat him on the main roads. We have no horses and Frostclaw could only carry me and maybe one other.”

  As she finished speaking, almost as if sent by fate, a knock sounded on the door. It was sharp and coded. Three distinct raps, a short pause then two more raps. It was someone who was privy to their mission.

  Xavier moved quickly to the doorway, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade as he cracked the doorway open to see who was there. His face scrunched in confusion as standing in silhouette in the hallway was a Zar’kaan bearing the emblem of the Redmaw Reavers.

  A soft voice hissed out of the hood. “Message from Lythara, she has anticipated your needs.”

  Xavier scowled deeper but opened the doorway, his hand never leaving his blade. A tall figured stepped through and pulled his hood down. His infernal lineage was clear to see, and he wore it with confidence. Horns curved back from his temples and his veins glowed with a soft ember light beneath his dusky skin. As Xavier got a closer look at his emblem, he confirmed it was indeed that of the Redmaws but it was inverted.

  The newcomer unrolled a small worn parchment and held it out to Xavier. “There is a smugglers path beneath the east wall. An old wine cellar leads into a forgotten tunnel and surfaces beyond the guard patrol routes outside the city near an abandoned quarry.” His smile revealed sharp teeth, “She had a feeling you would want to be able to come and go without the guards being aware.”

  Ella took the proffered parchment and moved to compare it to their map. Her smile grew as she pointed out landmarks between the two to Lianna.

  The Iskari grinned broader. “We can take that route to cut them off, catch the caravan near the river fork. Get in, free her and get out.”

  Xavier moved to join them and nodded. “Not just her though, any Animari on that caravan. Hells any slave on that caravan.”

  Behind them the Zar’kaan nodded once. “Then may your hands be swift and your blades silent.” With those words he stepped back in the hallway and vanished like smoke in the night sky.

  Xavier looked around the room his face set in grim determination. “Gear up. We leave in five minutes.”

  Ella buckled her quiver and carefully checked her bowstring. Sihri cracked her neck to each direction then slammed her fists into her opposing palm testing her gloves. Valkra padded to Xavier’s side, ever his shadow. Frostclaw moved beside Lianna, his presence grounding her storm of emotion as she checked her own bow and quiver.

  None spoke further. When the time elapsed, they slipped from the Emberdrift Hearth through the rear stairwell, cloaked in darkness. Quickly they made their way to the ruined building that held the entrance to the smugglers tunnel not speaking to anyone beyond a single whispered comment to a stable hand as they passed. Every step down into the undercity tunnels was a step closer to vengeance. And as they vanished into the passage below, the truth was clear to each of them. This would not be a rescue alone. It would be justice, paid in blood.

  They slipped through the hidden tunnels of the mostly forgotten passage like shadows passing through a mausoleum, silent but determined. The smugglers tunnel was narrow and damp. Its walls were lined with cracked stone supported by half-rotten timber supports. Where the moisture didn’t coat everything, dust choked the air blending and adding to the suffocating miasma of mold that clung too nearly every surface. Nothing slowed the group in its passage though, there was only forward and the rescue that lay ahead.

  Hours passed in the darkness, memory and the crude map that Lythara’s messenger brought being the only guides. Sihri’s value shone in the underground however, her innate sense of direction in the tunnels kept them on course and at last they finally emerged beyond the city’s eastern watch area. Nestled in the undergrowth of a cliff the tunnel system emerged in the bottom of an old quarry just like the map had promised. Above the group the stars glittered clear and cold in the night sky. What moons had been hanging above, lighting the land with their various colors had settled beyond the horizon leaving only Necroth’s black silhouette remaining. Death’s moon was fitting for their intentions. They were back in the Wildlands now, beyond the reach of Ironhaven’s walls if not influence. Somewhere ahead, a noble’s caravan camped in luxury and semi-comfort, unaware of what stalked them in the darkness. Retribution hunted in the wilds tonight.

  Little had changed in the sky overhead since the group emerged from the smugglers tunnel to now where they rested on a wooded ridge. Above the stars shimmered cold and clear, unchallenged by any moonlight. Only Necroth, the blackened sphere of death, hung motionless in the heavens, its presence felt oppressive now, a void against the glittering night.

  Below, nestled in a clearing by a dry creekbed, torchlight danced around a small camp consisting of two wagons, six visible guards, a crackling fire, and a line of shackled slaves chained to the rear of the second cart. Even from this distance, Xavier could make her out. The Lynari woman sat among the captives, still upright, still fierce. Though matted with grime and dust, her fur caught the moonlight. Her eyes, sharp, golden, remained alert. She had not broken. She had not bent. Not yet.

  Xavier unsheathed his twin weapons. In his right hand, Vaeltheris, humming softly with latent power. In his left hand the Emberstone shortsword recovered from the abandoned mine, its molten edge casting a subtle, flickering glow into the shadows around him. Warmth radiated from the sword a comfort against the brisk night air this close to the mountains. He glanced to the women with them receiving slight nods in return, with that he signaled the start of the attack.

  Ella’s arrow took the first blood, it flew from the shadowy outskirts of the camp and took one of the perimeter guards in the throat. A faint gurgle was the only noise the man made as he fell. His body striking the ground prefaced the chaos that would erupt.

  Xavier descended from the ridge and into the camp like a specter of righteous vengeance, his blades flashing wickedly in the flickering light of the camp. Vaeltheris’ enchanted blade tore through the chain-mail hauberk of the first guard like a heated knife slicing through butter, a faint shimmer trailing the blade as it moved through its arc. The Emberstone blade wrought equal devastation as it bit deep into another soldier’s ribs, its passage leaving the sizzle and scent of seared meat in its wake. The man unleashed a hellish scream as he clutched at the wound the blade made, fire already spreading from the elemental damage.

  Sihri bounded past where Xavier fought, her digitigrade stride carrying her fast and fierce through the battle. Her fists flashed with practiced movements striking bone and helm alike with equal fury. One guard staggered before falling from her elbow while another reeled backwards groaning and dropping his sword to hold the shattered jaw her backhand dealt.

  To the western side of the camp Valkra slipped from the underbrush and leapt at a fleeing sentry, both of her tails striking forward at the same time. Her venom-laced stingers struck true, one in his neck and the other the flesh of his thigh. His body was racked with violent spasms before the venom locked his form in a rigor that left him immobile on the ground.

  The confusion of the attack left the opening that Lianna and Frostclaw were waiting for. Slipping through the trees with a whisper like silence they made towards the chains. Lianna broke the locks with practiced ease while her bonded companion roamed around those they were freeing keeping guard. His low fierce growl warning away any who would consider approaching.

  As she finished the second to last shackle a voice broke through the rhythm she had developed.

  “Well, well, well, it looks like the little kitten grew claws.” Spoke a voice that had haunted her dreams for years.

  Lianna froze staring horrified at the figure that strode out of the shadows, his blade already drawn and a malicious smile on his lips. Mekal.

  Time had aged him, but he looked no less cruel, no less vicious, no less deadly. A fresh scar traced down his temple and drew his smile into an evil sneer. His very presence made it feel as if the air around Lianna curdled in reaction.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  She stared wide-eyed at the man for several long moments then her eyes narrowed, and she snarled. “You.”

  Her reaction only drew more laughter from the man. “I remember that face, the little kitten whelp. Shame your mother did not last near as long as you. She was an enjoyable toy.”

  Rage tinted the Iskari’s vision with crimson as she relented control to emotion. Her wild charge led by her short, curved daggers.

  Their blades clashed in a flurry of sparks and snarls. Mekal fought dirty, his kicks, elbows, and quick slashes were meant to torment more than kill. But Lianna had trained for this. Her life had been dedicated to divergence against this human for years. Her every parry had weight, every counter a memory honed into steel and death.

  Frostclaw, maintained the security of those they were there to rescue. He lunged to shield them from another encroaching guard, bond reinforced claws were able to rake through guard’s mail with terrifying ease.

  Lianna slipped Mekal’s guard, one of her daggers scoring a cut across his ribs.

  “You are nothing without your pack,” he spat one lip split from a lucky blow eariler.

  “I am my pack,” she snarled and then she drove her blade deep into his gut.

  He staggered, choking, his fingers going numb as they released their grip on his sword. As it clattered to the ground his eyes were held captive by hers.

  She leaned in closer her soft whisper for his ears alone. “For my mother.”

  One final thrust ended him as she drove her second dagger deep into his chest impaling his heart clean through.

  Across the camp, Ella loosed her last arrow into a fleeing soldier, while Xavier dueled the last remaining caravan guard. He managed to deflect a wild overhead swing with Vaeltheris and then retaliated with a searing slash from the Emberstone blade. The man dropped screaming, his leathers ablaze. The fight was over, but as Xavier turned toward the captives, he saw a familiar figure standing at the edge of the clearing.

  The Overseer. The same one from the auction stood slack-jawed at the edge of the camp. Their eyes locked but for a moment then the Overseer blinked once, before he turned and vanished into the trees.

  Xavier started to move to chase the man down then stopped. It was too risky, too exposed they had to get the captives to safety.

  He turned to Ella. “Get them ready to move. Quickly and quietly, we’ve been identified.”

  Sihri joined them, guiding the freed slaves to their feet. Some of them openly wept. Others simply stared at the chaos around them, stunned.

  The Lynari woman rose slowly. Her voice was hoarse, but resolute. “I remember you from the auction. You came for us?”

  Xavier nodded. “We don’t leave our people in chains.”

  She looked past him to Lianna, still standing over Mekal’s body, her shoulders tense, her breathing ragged as her soul weighed her actions.

  “I remember you as well,” the Lynari said. “You are not the slave you portray.”

  Lianna didn’t speak. She only nodded and turned to rejoin the others. Around them the leaves were stirred by the gentle night winds. They gathered what they could take from the wagons then extinguished the fires to prevent a blaze spreading through the grasses. The night wind grew softly, whispering of what was to come, and in its hushed voice, freedom took root, paid for in blood, born beneath the eyes of the death moon.

  As they guided the freed individuals from the camp Xavier reviewed his notifications.

  Ding!

  He hadn’t known about the taskmaster nor the hounds but vaguely remembered hearing howls through the din of combat.

  The next notification came with the almost Pavlovian endorphin rush as a radiant symphony of chimes reverberated through his head, accompanied by a booming voice reading the notification:

  They traveled under cover of darkness, winding through forgotten deer trails and dry creek beds, guided by Lianna’s sharp eyes and Valkra’s silent scouting. As they moved Xavier allocated his points. His time in Ironhaven proved that he needed to be able to fall back on words and presence when in civilization. Something he hadn't really thought about a lot prior to that. 4 points went into Charisma to help boost that stat. 2 more points went to Agility and Dexterity each. His fighting style seemed to lean more and more into those and the bonus from having a solid 30 in each could only further help. On impulse he placed his final 4 points into the esoteric stat of Luck. Everything had fallen perfect for this rescue and he had a feeling that he was rapidly burning through what luck he had banked so far and would need every shred going forward.

  The cold bit deeper with every step deeper into the foothills. Necroth loomed above them, a watchful black sentinel, unmoving and unblinking, casting no light. Only it and the stars bore witness as they reached the rendezvous point: a moss-covered shrine half-buried in stone and time. A single lantern flickered near its base.

  From the shadows emerged three figures cloaked in rough, forest-worn garb; resistance agents marked only by faint green-threaded sigils in the cuffs at their wrists. The leader, a broad-shouldered Vulpiri with rust-red fur and calculating eyes, stepped forward.

  “You're early,” he said with a faint grin. “Good. Time is a luxury we do not have. We got the message only an hour ago.”

  Xavier met him halfway, offering a respectful nod. “They need to be in Verdantspire within two days. No delays.”

  The Vulpiri’s gaze passed over the freed Animari, some of whom were limping, some were leaning on one another, eyes wide and cautious. His eyes settled at last on the Lynari woman, whose stare met his without fear.

  “She’ll make it,” he said seriously. “They all will.”

  Ella moved through the group, helping to pass each captive a waterskin and cloak, offering what comfort she could. Lianna stood apart, eyes still shadowed. Frostclaw pressed close to her side, and neither spoke.

  As the refugees and their resistance guides prepared to leave Lianna stepped forward, retrieving a sealed scroll from her belt and handing it to the lead runner. “Give this to Elder Kaelith,” she said quietly. “She’ll know what to do.”

  The Vulpiri agent accepted it with a solemn nod. “It’ll reach her—word for word.” The Vulpiri nodded and gave a low whistle.

  Two more resistance scouts emerged from the trees. One was a Zar’Kaan with ashen skin and glowing red eyes; the other, a Lupari woman with a curved blade and a silver neck chain worn like a badge of defiance. The transfer was quick a practice in efficiency.

  The now free Lynari woman stepped past Xavier and paused. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He nodded once. “Live free. That’s all the thanks we need.”

  Then she was gone, vanishing into the trees with the others traversing the long, hidden path back to Verdantspire. The resistance faded into the night like smoke on the wind. Xavier turned back to his companions. The fire of action was gone, but something colder and heavier had taken its place. Necroth still hung overhead and now, they had to descend into the dark back into Ironhaven.

  The Emberdrift Hearth was still and silent by the time they returned through the smuggler’s route. The lamplight was burning low as the oil dwindled and the floorboards above creaked softly, in the hearth the fire had long since gone to embers. The group quickly made their way upstairs and into their locked room. Silence reigned supreme for countless minutes, not the silence of fear but the silence of the weight of what they had done. They were all worn thin, by the fight, by the cost, by the truths that not everything passed with the blood that soaked into the earth.

  Lianna wore it heaviest. She sat on the floor still in her leathers. Across her lap her twin daggers lay, still crusted with dried blood. At her side Frostclaw curled, his massive body rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep, though even in that state his tail twitched back and forth protectively around the sullen woman. She had not spoken since handing the letter to the runner. Silent and lost in her thoughts the whole trip.

  Xavier sat nearby; he was steadily cleaning Vaeltheris leaving the blade pristine once again. The Emberstone shortsword sat beside him, the nature of its blade removing the need to clean or maintain it. His eyes were not on the marvelous blades however, they lay upon the Iskari woman, concern clear in his orbs.

  “The Lynari woman mattered to you more.” He finally stated quietly. The answer was clear, so he didn’t bother with a question.

  “She reminded me of my sister…” Lianna replied, her grip tightening to almost white knuckles on one of her daggers.

  Xavier didn’t press her; he didn't have to.

  From her spot on the windowsill, Ella gazed out watching where Necroth still hung overhead like a void wound in the sky though it was rapidly being hidden as dark heavy clouds rolled in from the east. “You saved her,” her voice came soft and gentle. “You gave her a chance at freedom.”

  It was not the woman that troubled Lianna though. She remained quiet for a short period before speaking again. Her voice was hollow, heavy with pent up emotion. “I thought killing him would… I do not know… make things easier.” Her voice didn’t tremble it scraped roughly across the ears hearing it.

  Ella rose from where she sat and moved to crouch beside her sister in Xavier’s collar. “You feel what you need to feel Lianna.” Her voice remained soft and gentle. “The most important thing is he cannot hurt another again.”

  Lianna simply nodded, a single tear escaping one of her eyes as they fell upon her blades once again. “I carried that weight for years. He killed my mother, my sister, branded Lio and me and then sold us into slavery. I watched as he tortured Frostclaw’s dam to death. I have carried nightmares of him since I was but a cub.” Her voice finally broke as she spoke. “I thought his death would give me peace, a release, something. But… it is just empty absence now and that is almost worse.”

  “You have ended it though.” Xavier knelt a respectful distance from her, but his voice was reassuring. “You ended his line and his threat. Sometimes justice doesn’t bring peace just the absence of pain. Stops the bleeding.” He thought back to a trial and execution back on earth and brushed a tear from his cheek. Ella noticed his motion, realizing she would need to ask about it later, now was not the time.

  Frostclaw let out a soft chuff, the tone in Lianna’s voice had awaken him and he nuzzled into her arm. She finally let go of her daggers and leaned into the hulking snow leopard, burying her fingers in his thick fur.

  The moment was broken by a sudden sharp knock at the door. Deliberate pattern once again rapped out against the wood.

  Sihri moved immediately at the signal pattern. She unbolted the door and held it open long enough for the messenger to enter.

  A lean Animari wearing a slave collar slipped in, he was one of their resistance contacts in the market often left to clean the animal waste from the streets at night. His red-furred Vulpiri features were dusted with soot and his breath came fast as if he had been running recently.

  “They are moving,” he gasped out. “Halestorm has mobilized the city guard. He’s pulled in the Redmaw mercs too, along with any Arenvalis guards in the city. Word has already reached the upper tiers. They are hunting for the mercenary and his slaves who hit the convoy. They are searching for you, a rogue mercenary from the south with forged credentials.”

  Xavier stood and exhaled slowly. “The Overseer.”

  Ella looked up her eyes narrowing. “He made it back… that is what you meant when you said we were identified.”

  “They are locking down the gates of the city,” the contact added. “They will turn it upside down district by district. They will likely be here by dawn.”

  Lianna rose to her feet, the pall that had hung over her replaced. Where previously there had been a blaze burning for revenge now it had been kindled into something new, something directed and controlled. “We cannot stay here,” she said. “The longer we linger the more attention we would draw to the others who use this place. They will uncover any on the whole block if they find us.”

  Xavier nodded grimly. “Then we move before they arrive.” He turned to Ella and Sihri. “Gear back up we go below, tonight.”

  Outside the air was torn with the sudden flash of lightning followed by the long roll of thunder as a deluge opened the sky and soaked everything below.

  “To the vault?” Ella asked.

  “Yes,” Xavier stated. “It’s the source of the rot beneath Ironhaven, and if Lythara is correct it holds at least part of what is needed to free the kingdom from that rot as well. If we wait, we won’t have another shot at striking it.”

  The Vulpiri reached into his rags and pulled out a small, folded map which he handed to Xavier. “There is an entrance to the sewer near here, old paths that lead straight into the catacombs. There are no patrols there, it is too unstable, but she says it will get you close.”

  Xavier took the map, his jaw settling into grim resolve once again. “Then it is time we end this.”

  They moved quickly; no words wasted. Frostclaw rose with Lianna. Valkra already waited at the door, tails twitching with restless tension. Sihri flexed her hands, the sound of her knuckles tightening into place like war drums in the quiet. Ella slung her bow across her pack and tested her swords in their sheaths. As they stepped into the corridor, the firelight caught the edge of Xavier’s Emberstone blade, its glow reflecting off his eyes like embers stirring in ash before it slid home into its sheath as well.

  Behind them, the Emberdrift Hearth faded into stillness. Above them, Necroth hung still behind the raging clouds that soaked the world as if trying to wash away what happened below. Ahead, the dark waited to swallow them once again. And beneath the city, the chains would finally rattle and break.