[Chapter 23 - Guards in the Dark]

  It took some time for us to make our way to the bottom, and for most of the descent we found ourselves immersed in complete and utter darkness. I could not see a single thing in front of me and it was the stone brick that I felt beneath my fingers which guided me forwards. With my hands pressed against the walls to my side, I treaded carefully down.

  Bj?rn did not seem to share the same issue. It was his paw which grabbed my shoulder when I stumbled, stopping me from falling as my foot slid down an eroded step I could not see.

  It took a while longer before we finally reached the end, and this was heralded at first by a small light which glowed faintly in the distance. Only when we drew closer did I realise its source, emanating out from a small gap between the rocks which I soon discovered to be the rubble which had caved in the stairwell we were in.

  Fortunately that did little to muffle the voices which I could just about make out from the other side, and I raised a finger to my lips as I turned back to face Bj?rn. He nodded his acknowledgement, and the two of us pressed our faces against the stone to gleam what we could from the room beyond.

  What came into view was a large chamber, a room of worship as evidenced by the stone altar standing at its end. On either side lay a doorway, the light flickering from beyond attesting towards their occupation, whilst between us and them lay rows upon rows of stone pews. These lined the room, stretching out from in front of the altar before stopping just by the room’s entrance that the collapsed rock of the stairwell now occupied.

  Standing by the altar’s side was a group of soldiers, their clothes uniform but not the same garments or equipment that were donned by the Atreian legion. Nor did they appear to be in the same medieval-styled wear which the Solarian knights had boasted.

  Instead they bore plain shorts of chain mail, draped atop thick tunics of green that were more fitted than the oversized cloths which the Atreians favoured. On top of their heads were crowned caps of peaked metal, an iron and bronze construction that encircled their eyes as well.

  The leader of the crowd was clear, attested to both from the lack of the helmet he wore and by the immense cloak of fur that he had clasped upon his shoulders.

  “Border Guards.” Bj?rn muttered. “What are they doing here over the wall?”

  I knew that term. It referred to the military of the Border Kingdoms, the armies which had guarded their holds, and the very soldiers which had originally defended Northgaard from Atreia. Now that they had lost the city, there should not have been any other means for them to access the lands beyond the Wall.

  Not least be here in the depths of Silvermine, from which the much coveted silversong metal was extracted.

  They talked amongst themselves regardless, their conversation getting more and more heated as they raised their voices louder. I shifted my face to the side, bringing my ear closer against the crack in the wall to better hear what they were saying.

  The voice of a young soldier became audible first.

  “We shouldn’t have done that.” He was hunched over to the right with his head clutched between his shaking hands. He could not have been more than just a boy, but he still wore a similar military garb as the others of his group. Upon his back he shouldered a giant wooden shield that looked way too big for him, whilst by his waist hooked an axe, blood still present on its head.

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  “They were just miners.” The panic in his words was clear. “Miners and their families, who had surrendered, not soldiers who fought back.”

  “Pull yourself together Erik.” growled back one of his companions. This soldier was much larger, a burly figure whose head bore the same metal helmet as the boy who was shuddering before him. “It was as the king commanded. You do as you are ordered.”

  “We will be leaving soon.” Their leader spoke this time, his words delivered in a cold and nonchalant manner. He seemed to show no regard for the child that was quivering to this side, nor did he acknowledge the frustration of his subordinate who was trying to soothe him.

  Instead, his right hand rested lazily on top of the pommel of his sword, and I found my eyes drawing towards it the moment it came into sight. Unlike the spherical shape which the pommels of most Atreian swords had been rounded into, his was carved into the form of a dragon. Its body coiled around the end of the hilt, making its way up towards the handle. And in its eye was embedded a singular jewel, the gem glinting in the light as he moved.

  “Yes, Sigurd.” The burly man responded nervously, but Erik quickly interrupted him.

  “To kill more?” The boy had raised his head, and despite the guards of his helmet I could still make out the trembling of his eyes.

  “To do the same.” Sigurd answered in the same dismissive tone.

  “I…” Erik took a deep breath, collecting himself before he stood up straight. “I can’t do it! I won’t! They were innocent, and I… I can’t take any more lives. That’s not what I joined for! Let’s just go back. The king… the king would understand.”

  “You think this is a game?” The burly man stepped forwards again, grabbing the scruff of Erik’s neck as he pulled the boy’s face towards his. “Do as you’re told or-”

  “No!” Erik pushed himself back, pulling out the axe from his side and placing it between himself and the others. The soldiers backed off nervously, as did the man who raised his hands cautiously before him. “I’m going back!” Erik screamed, his eyes shaking wildly, darting from left to right from one soldier’s face to another’s.

  “You cannot leave now.” Sigurd had turned, and for once his gaze lay upon the boy. His tone maintained the same unnervingly cold edge to it, but even from here I could see his fingers sliding slowly down towards the handle of his sword.

  “You can’t stop me. Stand back! I’ll… I’ll-“

  “You fool!” the burly man roared. “Come back her-”

  Tssst.

  The boy looked down.

  In his chest was now buried a sword, its handle the only thing that could be seen while the rest of the blade pierced both his mail and his torso. The dragon which ran up its hilt seemed to almost smirk as Erik coughed, an expulsion of blood accompanying the -68, -73 that appeared next to the crossguard. Then he fell to his knees, his body slumping forwards as his strength left him.

  “A relic blade.” Bj?rn’s growl could be made out even within his hushed whisper. “How do they have one here?”

  Sigurd pulled the sword out, flicking the blood off the blade in one fluid arc before bringing it out before him. With his other hand he fetched a handkerchief, wiping what blood remained on the metal before sheathing it back into his scabbard. Then he turned to the others, and the soldiers withdrew nervously as his gaze bore into them.

  “Any questions?” He seemed to almost dare them to answer, but they said nothing in return; the occasional Guard shaking their head as they gulped.

  “Then we continue. Take the body, we can use it as part of the offering.”

  He began his way towards the door to the left, and the soldiers scrambled into action. Two of them grabbed Erik’s now motionless arms, holding him by the waist as they hoisted him up upon their shoulder before moving towards the doorway after their leader.

  “We need to go back.” Bj?rn muttered. “To warn the others.”

  I nodded, an action breaking the unnerved stillness that had taken my body as I watched the scene unfold, and slowly I pushed myself away from the wall.

  Only to hear the clatter of a pebble which glanced off my foot. A sound which stopped the soldiers in their tracks.