Rise of Empire (The Riyria Revelations #3-4)

There was a brief moment of terror when Arista’s heart pounded so loudly she thought the seret might hear. She glanced at Hilfred and saw him flinch, his hand approaching his own weapon. Then the knight bent on one knee and lightly tapped the stone floor with the pommel. The stones immediately slid away, revealing a stair curving into the darkness.

“Shall I come with you, Your Grace?”

Arista considered this. She had no idea what was down there. It could be one cell or a maze of corridors. It might take her a long time to discover where Gaunt was. Just outside, she heard Nipper filling his buckets. The castle was already waking up.

“Yes, of course. Lead the way.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” The knight pulled a torch from the wall and descended the steps.

It was dark inside. The stair was narrow and oppressive. Ahead, she could hear the sounds of faint weeping. The same heavy stones that made up the base of the tower formed the dungeon. Here, however, decorations adorned the walls. Nothing recognizable, merely abstract designs carved everywhere. Arista felt she had seen them before—not these exactly, but similar ones.

Then she felt it.

Like the snap of a twig or the crack of an egg, a tremor passed through her body—a sudden disconcerting break.

She looked down. The old man’s hands were gone and she was seeing her own fingers and sleeves revealed in the flickering torchlight.

With his back turned, the knight continued to escort them. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he began to turn, saying, “Your Grace, I—”

Before he was fully around, Hilfred shoved her aside.

He drew his sword just as the knight’s eyes widened. As he drove his blade at the man’s chest, the black armor turned the tip. It skipped off, penetrating the gap between the chest plate and the right pauldron, piercing the man’s shoulder.

The knight cried out.

Hilfred withdrew his sword. The knight staggered backward, struggling to draw his own. Hilfred swung at the knight’s neck. Blood exploded, spraying both of them. The seret made no further noise as he crumpled and fell.

“What happened?” Hilfred asked, picking up the torch.

“The walls,” she said, touching the chiseled symbols. “They have runes on them like in Gutaria Prison. I can’t do magic in here. Do you think anyone heard that?”

“I’m sure the kid fetching water did,” he said. “Will he do anything?”

“I don’t know. We should close the door,” Arista said, picking up the sword with the emerald and looking up the long staircase at the patch of light at the top. What they had covered so casually minutes earlier now appeared so far—so dangerous. “I’ll do it. You find Gaunt.”

“No. I won’t leave your side. There could be more guards. Forget the door. We’ll find him together and get out of here.” He took her left hand and pulled her along. Her right hand held on to the sword.

The hallways were narrow stone corridors without any light except what came from the torch they held. The ceiling arched to a peak not more than a foot above Arista’s head, forcing Hilfred to stoop. Wooden doors, so short they looked more like livestock gates, began appearing on either side.

“Gaunt!” Hilfred yelled.

“Degan Gaunt!” Arista shouted.

They ran down the darkened passageways, pounding on doors, calling his name, and peering inside. The hallway ended at a T-intersection. With only one torch, they had no option to split up, even if Hilfred could be convinced. They turned right and pressed on, finding more doors.

“Degan Gaunt!”

“Stop!” Arista stopped suddenly.

“Wha—”

“Shush!”

Very faintly—“Here!”

They trotted down the next corridor but reached a dead end.

“This place is a maze,” Arista said.

They ran back and took another turn. They called again.

“Here! I’m here!” came the reply, louder now.

Running once more, they again met a solid wall. They retraced their steps, found another corridor that appeared to go in the right direction, and followed it as far as the hallway allowed.

“Degan!” she cried.

“Over here!” called a voice from the last door in the block.

When they reached it, Arista bent down and held up the torch. In the tiny grated window, she saw a pair of eyes. She grabbed the door handle and pulled—locked. She tried the gemstone but nothing happened.

“Damn it!” she cried. “The guard, he must have the key. Oh, how could I be so stupid? I should have searched him before we ran off.”

Hilfred hammered the wooden door with his sword. The hard oak, nearly as solid as stone, gave up only sliver-size chips.

“We’ll never get the door open this way. Your sword isn’t doing anything! We have to go back for the keys.”

Hilfred continued to strike the door.

“We’ll be back, Degan!” Arista said before starting back down the hall, carrying the torch.

“Arista!” Hilfred shouted as he chased after her.

They rounded the corridors, turning left, then right, and then—

“Arista?” Saldur said, stunned, as they nearly ran into the regent. Around him were five Seret Knights with swords drawn and torches held high.

Hilfred pushed Arista back. “Run!” he told her.

Saldur stared at them for a moment, then shook his head. “There is nowhere to run to, dear boy. You’re both quite trapped.”

Saldur, his hair loose and wild, wore a white linen nightgown, over which he had pulled a red silk robe that he was still in the midst of tying about his waist. “So it was you after all. I would not have believed it. You’ve been very clever, Arista, but you’ve always been a clever girl, haven’t you? Always poking your nose into places you shouldn’t.

“And you, Hilfred, reunited with your princess once more, I see. It’s a wonderfully gallant gesture to defend her with your life, but it’s also futile, and where is the honor in futility? There’s no other exit from this dungeon. These men are Seret Knights, highly skilled, brutally trained soldiers who will kill you if you resist.”

Saldur took the torch from the lead seret, who now also drew a dagger. “You have wasted half your life protecting this foolish girl, whose stupidity and rash choices have dragged you through torment and fire. Put down your sword and back away.”

Hilfred checked his grip and planted his feet.

“When I was fifteen, you told me I would die if I tried to save her. That night I ran into an inferno. If I didn’t listen to you then, what makes you think I will now?”

Saldur sighed. “Don’t make them kill you.”

Hilfred stood his ground.

“Stop, please. I beg you!” Arista shouted. “Sauly, I’ll do anything you ask. Please, just let him go.”

“Persuade him to put down his sword and I will.”

“Hilfred—”

“Not even if you order me to,” he said, his voice grave. “There is no power in Elan capable of making me walk away from you—not now, not ever again.”

“Hilfred …” she whispered as tears fell.

He glanced at her. In that moment of inattention, the seret saw an opening and slashed. Hilfred dodged.

Swords clashed.