Heroes Never Die ✓

Chapter 13 The Lord of Ruins

When they entered, the stench of mould and rot hit them hard. The hallway was littered with trash and rubble. Ayah gaged and covered her mouth and nose.

"Breath through your mouth," Gawyn whispered, patting her on the back.

Skylar signalled them to wait and tiptoed down the hall to check on the rooms. Most of them were empty and full of decaying furniture, which must have been a sign of luxury in the past. After a quick walk around, she hadn't found any signs of anyone. She returned to the company and pointed at the wide stairs leading to the first floor.

Suddenly, a sound of shattering glass pierced the silence, and angry shouts came from somewhere above them, but they couldn't distinguish the words. They slowly crept up the stairs, keeping their weapons ready.

Someone was cursing profoundly and prattling on and on about something, their voice slurry and hard to understand. Skylar signalled the soldiers to disperse. They carefully tiptoed toward the entryway to the chamber where the voices were coming from. Skylar positioned herself at the doorframe, pressing their back to the wall and took a glance inside.

The room seemed to be entirely out of place in this ruined building. The floor was covered in a plush scarlet rug. A beautiful oak table with artistically carved legs stood in the middle of the chamber, with comfortable-looking chairs with painted golden frames. The table was laden with heaps of food so vast that part of it had already started to spoil. The whole place was littered with gold, jewels, and other precious things, that were probably worth a fortune, and yet they lay there, discarded as if they were trash.

In the middle of all this chaotic mess sat a man. His head was bald, and he had a long, ragged grey beard. His face was wrinkled and had a bit of a sickly yellow tint to it, though it could be easily missed as swirling black tattoos covered his leathery skin.

The black robes he wore were dirty and tattered. A big fat belly stretched the material that seemed to fit a more slender man. His unnatural yellow eyes seemed to be glassy while he spat curses at no one in particular. He snatched a wine bottle from the table and took a deep gulp, not bothering with a cup or glass—a crimson liquid leaked from his mouth, spilling on his already filthy robe.

The armoured figure was standing a few feet away from him as if waiting for the orders but not showing any initiative.

Skylar looked at Gawyn. He was frowning, but as he caught her gaze, he nodded and made swift gestures pointing to her and the soldiers and then to the room. Everyone nodded and clutched their weapons more tightly.

On a given signal, they all dashed into the room. The armoured figure didn't flinch as Skylar charged him at full speed and bashed him with her shield. He hit the wall and slipped to the floor with a clang of armour. His movements were sluggish as if he was waking up from a long coma. He reached for his sword, but Skylar swiftly plunged her blade into his neck. The figure convulsed, gargling on blood and fell motionless.

Skylar wrenched her sword out and turned to the rest of the room.

The sorcerer lay on the floor. His chair has fallen over, probably after the initial shock of their assault. He whimpered, staring down the blade at his neck.

"Stop squirming, already," Gawyn growled. "We have questions, and it will be better for you to cooperate willingly."

"W-who are you?" the sorcerer stuttered in a rough, husky voice. "How is it possible you here. You are an illusion, surely!"

Skylar rolled her eyes. The soldiers kept watch at the door and in the hall, so she strolled to Gawyn. "Let me handle this."

"Sky," he protested, but she had already moved in front of him.