"Go, but be careful." I catch Aelfric's arm briefly. "These aren't common rebels."
I know we're walking into something larger than a simple rescue. This has the Aeonians written all over it.
Darstan gives one curt nod. Aelfric studies me longer, as if weighing the risk of leaving me at all.
"We'll handle it," he finally says. Both warriors melt into the shadows, leaving Garrett and me alone in the courtyard.
We move deeper into the fortress. The chamber beyond is a graveyard of shadows and decay. Crude torture devices lean against the walls, their metal surfaces stained dark with old blood. The stench makes my stomach turn.
"Recent kills," Garrett mutters, prodding a body with his boot. "Hours old at most."
"They're fighting among themselves." I step carefully around scattered bones. "The rebellion is fracturing."
"Good for us, bad for your friend if she's caught in the middle." Garrett steps over a body without looking down. "Cornered animals bite hardest."
I can feel the Aeonian's corruption trying to claw at my soul. "The Asterdust haze in this place is thick."
"Stay close. The dungeons will be in the lower levels," Garrett whispers, his breath misting in the cold air emanating from the keep’s interior. "If they're keeping her alive, that's where she'll be."
"Then that's where we go," I tell him. Every instinct screams at me that we're walking into a trap. The fortress is too quiet and easily penetrated.
We enter the keep proper, where the walls are carved with Orkan runes and sigils dedicated to their god of vengeance. The doors slam shut behind us the moment we cross the threshold. Darkness swallows everything.
"They know we're here," Garrett whispers.
Somewhere in the black, I hear the soft drag of claws on stone.
The attack comes from everywhere at once. Hidden passages vomit forth orc warriors, their crude weapons gleaming with poison. These aren't the civilized Orkan clans from Mavren's court. Asterdust has transformed the rebels into savage raiders, their eyes wild and feral in the dim light.
"Ambush!" Garrett growls, meeting the first orc with a parry. He twists right, driving his elbow into the warrior's throat.
I pull my short sword free, the one my husband pressed into my hands before we left. Svenn insisted a long blade would be suicide in close quarters. Another orc rushes toward me from my blind side. I spin into the attack, using his own weight against him as I slash across his thigh. He howls and crashes down, clutching at the wound.
The third rebel charges Garrett with a mace. My knight takes the blow on his bracer and drives his short blade beneath the orc's arm and into his ribs.
But they keep coming. An endless stream of slavering monsters emerging from the darkness like a tide of nightmares. Garrett ducks under a swing that would have taken his head.
"There are too many of them!" I cry as three more converge on us.
"The passage to your left! Take it!" Garrett's voice rises in defiance as the orcs surround him, their serrated blades seeking the gaps in his armor.
"I won't leave you—"
"Go!" He thrusts his spear, hurling one attacker backward into its companions. "Find the maiden and get out of here!"
Guilt claws up my throat but I choose to trust my sworn knight. His war-cries and the sounds of battle fade behind me as I sprint deeper into the passage. I force myself not to look back,not to count the odds, not to think about how Garrett's breathing sounds just a little too labored as he fights.
The corridor is a maze of nightmares, each turn revealing fresh horrors. I refuse to look into the cells where torture implements hang from hooks above piles of bones. My boots splash through puddles as I run blindly through twisting passages.
Fear drives me forward. Not for myself, but for Blaire.
Asterdust poisons the mind and turns civilized beings into monsters. The thought of what these drug-crazed orcs might do to their prisoners claws at me with every step.
I have to find her. I have to—
The passage ends at a door unlike the others I've passed. This one is reinforced with iron bands and etched with runes that pulse faintly in the darkness. My fingers brush the metal and the carved symbol snarls at me like a living thing. I draw my bone knife and whisper her name beneath my breath.
Saelariel, goddess of silent grace. Let the blade find its way.
