Midhir drew a shallow breath as he stood between the broken carriages, amidst the dead bodies. A part of him didn’t want to know whether they were friend or foe. A part of him feared seeing Alistair’s face, or Willow’s.

  The sound of a snapping branch broke the fragile silence. His ears perked up as he rushed behind one of the broken carriages and peeked to the side.

  From the overgrowth on the other side of the road, a familiar face stepped out. Alistair glanced around as he tightly held onto his blood soaked spear. After spending a moment scouting, he waved his hand back and forth over his shoulder.

  A sigh of relief washed over him as he spotted Cait, Willow and Arwen step out of the woods, along with the imperial guard. He stepped out from behind the carriage, and marched towards them, only glancing over his shoulder once. The Castor Brothers hadn’t returned yet, but he could hear the noise they made as they dragged their prisoner.

  “Your Highness!” One of the imperial guards rushed over while the others gave him a quick bow and scattered around, checking the carriages. Or what remained of them.

  “Report. What happened here?” He wasn’t gone for long. How could have the convoy be attacked, and driven off into the overgrowth so fast?

  “An attack by the cultists, sir.” The guard rushed to explain. “They came from the forest, aiming not to kill but to disable the carriages. They routed the horses, and those that didn’t run fast and far, they killed. We only have three wounded, no casualties otherwise.” He paused, though for s split second his lips parted as if he had more to say. Then, he simply bowed, deciding silence was the better option.

  “What is it?” Midhir pressed.

  The guard uncomfortably shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I don’t think they meant to survive, sir. They ran right past us, even the Lady Enforcer, like destroying the carriages and killing the horses was their sole purpose.”

  Midhir scowled. “They meant to slow us down, then?” He pressed his lips together. Why? Was it because of something in Derwen Hold, or because their leader had been captured? “Thank you, return to your work.”

  Soon the Castor Brothers returned with the captured cultist leader. He was still wearing his helmet, but he had been stripped of his weapons and armour.

  None of the carriages were in a state that could be easily mended, and of the rogue horses only half a dozen of them had been caught and brought back. They had no choice but to continue their journey on foot – even if they returned to An’Larion for vessels, it would take too long.

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  They loaded their supplies and wounded onto the remaining horses, and soon set off, braving the frigid wind and freezing cold. The roads were untouched as if they were the first to pass through here. Even the tracks of the scouts had been covered by snowfall.

  They camped late, and set off early, at dawn, in an attempt to make it to Derwen Hold in time. No matter the circumstances, the Emperor didn’t like to be kept waiting after all. Despite their best efforts, what would have been a week-long journey lasted a fortnight. It was the dawn of the last day of their journey that the snow and incredible cold subsided, and the sun begun to peek from behind the thick layers of clouds again.

  By the time Derwen Hold entered their view, the sun had begun to set, dyeing the world in gold, and the skies purple. The convoy stopped for a few moments, to rest and to appreciate the view stretched before them.

  A lone mountain, separated from the mountain ranges surrounding it and covering the northern lands of Eldoria, stood tall before them. It was quite small, for a mountain, and looked like it had been cut in half by a giant, as the other side of it was clearly visible through the massive chasm passing through it.

  “That,” Midhir pointed at it. “Is Derwen Hold – the hollow mountain, and bastion of the Emperor. One of largest military bases in Eldoria.”

  “Is it inside the mountain?” Arwen asked with disbelief.

  “Mostly, as far as I’ve heard.” Alistair said with a scowl. He seemed tense and uncomfortable, and so did Willow.

  Midhir nodded. “Yeah, most of it is. You’ll see.”

  They set off again, marching towards the military base. Nearly everyone had taken this short break as a chance to freshen up, fix their creased uniforms and wipe the mud off their boots. The road lead them straight to the chasm cutting the mountain half. They arrived at dusk, just before the sun disappeared behind the mountains, drowning the world in darkness.

  A large, metal gate lifted as they arrived, allowing them entry into Derwen Hold. Aides and stable boys rushed to take the horses, while soldiers approached to take the prisoner. While all that was taken care of, Midhir allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and look around.

  Derwen Hold – the military base itself – was completely carved into the two cliffs facing each other. While it wasn’t fully visible from here, the base covered the entirety of both halves of the mountain, and also stretched down, underground.

  “Your Highness.” A sharp, cold voice startled him. “The Emperor commands your presence in the Obsidian Hall.” It was a high ranking soldier, wearing the black uniform of the elite guards. His cloak was embossed with the golden sigil of the Ardagh family. “Now,” he added sharply before turning around and marching off.

  Midhir’s jaw tightened. “Cait, make sure everyone is settled in.” He ordered before rushing after the guard. He was one of his father’s honour guards – an elite force in the imperial army who solely answered to the Emperor. To the host of the Ring of Stone.

  His chest tightened as he followed the guard, and his throat knotted as the large, metal doors to the Obsidian Hall slowly creaked open. He took a deep breath to summon his courage, then marched forward.