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 find 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.