NOVEL NEXT Chapter 88: Lys
Hadrian pivoted his body toward the west, his gaze sweeping along the length of the massive stone serpent that was the inner city wall.
Far ahead, Baruch and the contingent of thirty mages stood silhouetted on the ramparts, watching the unfolding violence below like spectators
Up here, exposed to the open sky, the wind was merciless.
It howled across the stone, whipping Hadrian's and Aelia's black hair into a frenzy around their faces.
Hadrian moved at a conservative, measured pace.
He placed each foot carefully on the weathered concrete, his mind focused on the glimpses of Baruch's memories he got of how they got up there, and where Lys was.
She was his first target. He first had to ensure his way out, and the box.
He had already deployed the burrowing Hadrians, channeling elemental essence, moving through the solid concrete of the rampart itself.
They scurried deep within the stone ahead of his physical body.
The top of the wall was not a simple flat surface. It got thinner as it rose, but the top surface still maintained a width of fifteen meters.
It was a complex architectural landscape of its own, rising and falling with defensive towers, observation platforms, and recessed stairwells that led down into the interior structure.
Hadrian navigated his way through, eventually coming across a narrow, dark flight of stairs that cut into the floor of the rampart, leading down into the wall.
…
Baruch gripped the cold stone, looking down at the two regiments slowly converging below.
The battle between the Rank Fives had drifted further toward the southwest, clearing the stage for them.
The higher-ranked mages took leading positions.
Sunmar seemed to be at a disadvantage with no rank four of their own like Gritjor, but they compensated with five Rank Three mages which were three more than Gritjor had.
Two of Sunmar's Rank Threes would engage Bagdona and the other rank three he had seen on the dais the day of the ceremony, while the remaining three would face Egoz.
Behind them, the swarm of Rank Ones and Twos numbered in the few hundreds on both sides.
Egoz shot forward, a blur of kinetic energy, heading straight for the three Rank Three mages assigned to contain him.
Of the three, two were Elemental Path mages, while the third was similarly of the Force Path.
Egoz knew that if he wasted his time slaughtering Sunmar's Rank One and Two fodder, the enemy Rank Threes would simply bypass him and decimate Gritjor's lower ranks in return. It would be a tactic of mutually assured sabotage.
That was only half the reason, though. As a mage of the Force Path, and one of the fourth rank, the desire for physical collision was written into his very essence. His heart beat with intoxicating excitement of imminent battle.
Elsewhere on the line, Gurov and Bagdona locked eyes across the shrinking gap.
There were no words exchanged. In the years they had known one another, they had developed a firm, weary understanding of each other's attitudes and beliefs.
They moved toward one another with the inevitability of gravity.
Seeing the terrifying Rank Four and Rank Three mages occupy each other, the confidence of the lower-ranked mages surged.
All they had to do was avoid them.
Of course, luck would play a key role in that.
Flames roared, jagged peaks of earth erupted from the soil, the once-flat landscape completely deformed.
Baruch watched the carnage ensue, his throat dry. He swallowed hard, a profound sense of relief washing over him.
He was infinitely glad to be part of the group positioned up here, even if he didn't yet know what their specific role was supposed to be.
Suddenly, a familiar feeling sparked deep down inside his soul.
It started as a flicker, then expanded instantly. His heart skipped a beat, then stopped entirely for a second.
His lips parted as a storm of contradicting emotions clashed inside his chest: shock, fear, excitement, and a strange, twisted elation.
He felt his consciousness being gently but firmly shoved aside, drifting to the place of no control.
His vision blurred, and his eyes turned watery as the presence settled in.
The transition was complete. The watery haze cleared from Baruch's eyes, the parted lips closed, and his face took on a look of sharp, cold seriousness.
Hadrian looked to his left and right. He scanned the line of mages from the three paths, finally letting his gaze linger on Haldon.
Straightening Baruch's shoulders, adjusting to the height and weight of this body, he looked out to the chaotic battlefield one last time.
He wiped a hand on the front of his blood-clot red mage robes, smoothing out the fabric.
Without a word to the others, he turned sharply to his left and began to walk away from the railing.
"Where are you going?"
Haldon's voice cut through the wind.
Hadrian stopped the vessel and looked the man in the eye. "Where do you think?" Baruch asked, his voice steady.
Haldon's eyebrow rose.
"I won't be too long," Baruch replied.
Haldon scoffed. "Even now? You have energy for that witch?" he asked.
"Especially now," Baruch said. He wanted to get Haldon's suspicion. The assumption worked as a plausible but suspicious reason.
Turning on his heel, Baruch moved away from Haldon.
Haldon stood on the rampart, his eyes narrowed, watching the back of the red robes fluttering in the wind until the figure disappeared from sight.
…
Alia's head looked right to the city under the sun. It didn't look like a battle was happening beyond its wall.
Turning back down to the staircases, they descended.
As they did, the booms and chaotic screams of the battle faded, becoming slightly muffled, distant echoes of violence.
The atmosphere changed instantly. Fire torches lined the walls, casting the thin, claustrophobic hallways in a warm, flickering yellow glow.
Shadows danced aggressively against the stone with every flicker of the flames.
He turned down a specific direction, guided by Baruch's memories. As he walked, he felt a slight tremor beneath the floor.
From the cracks in the concrete and the shadows of the floor, small burrowing creatures emerged.
They skittered over the stone and climbed onto his footwear, disappearing into his clothes.
He continued deeper, walking down two other flights of steep stairs and navigating another long, straight hallway.
The air grew heavier here, thick and still.
Finally, Hadrian and Alia stopped as rodent Hadrian approached a wooden door at the end of the corridor.
If he did not know he was dozens of meters high inside a wall, the earthy, hot atmosphere would have convinced him he was deep underground.
Channeling force path essence, the short pawed creature pushed against the wood. The heavy door swung inward with a prolonged, protesting creak.
Stepping inside, he was met with the sight of what looked like a bunker.
It was a stark, utilitarian chamber with no windows. There were no mattresses to offer comfort; it appeared to be an old, abandoned guard post.
The beds were merely slabs of stone carved from the wall itself.
On one such stone protrusion, a woman sat waiting.
She wore a black gothic gown, her skin pale, and her hair worn in two long, intricate braids.
She looked down at the rodent creatures as it entered, her expression knowing.
"You came," she said, a small smile touching her lips.