9. Until the Last One Falls

"Why do they keep fighting, even as their bodies crumble?"

Mesterjof – Orc Chieftain.

Lodtrack and Leonor hurried through the corridors as fast as they could, disregarding Lodtrack's wounds. What Jill had given him had restored his energy, but Leonor knew the effects of the Anages Stein were temporary, and within three or six hours, it would cease to take effect. At least, it would keep him out of mortal danger.

Even though Lodtrack wanted to return to the fight alongside his comrades, he knew that his priority was to keep Leonor safe. They had to find a way to escape.

Earlier, he had noticed how the soldiers had positioned themselves at the castle's entrances and exits; it seemed they knew it inside and out. ‘A traitor?’ Lodtrack thought as he navigated the hallways. If that were the case, there would be only one way to leave without being seen.

“Is it so important that they don't see us?” Leonor asked in a whisper. “Death is all over the castle.”

“If they're doing what I think, it means they don't want survivors. And if that thing is with the invaders. I don't even want to imagine what the one controlling it is capable of,” Lodtrack stopped abruptly and looked back, “indeed, we might lose this time. That's why it's important to keep you safe.”

They maintained silence as they continued forward. Leonor kept his eyes on the ground, being careful not to make too much noise while walking, as the castle was likely still teeming with enemies; although the constant rumbling of the place should cover their presence.

They encountered a couple of enemy soldiers as they passed by the dining room, but Lodtrack had little difficulty incapacitating them, avoiding killing them. He also took one of their swords.

At one point, they saw allied soldiers; Leonor tried to get their attention, but Lodtrack covered him mouth, only to watch as the soldiers were burned alive by an elemental mage. Leonor stifled a scream of terror; Lodtrack gritted his teeth in anger as the mage laughed alongside other soldiers. He pounced on them, and before they realized it, he took them all down, ensuring they wouldn't rise again.

They continued forward until they passed through an area Leonor didn't recognize, despite having traversed the castle countless times.

“Where exactly are we heading?” he asked as they crossed a door leading to a strange winding corridor with another door at the end.

“There's a secret entrance beneath your tower,” Lodtrack replied, though Leonor's expression only showed she was even more lost, “I know this isn't the usual way, but to get to the tower where you live, we have to pass through the throne room. And, knowing the contingency plan for these occasions, the room must either be full of traps or have turned into a battlefield.”

“So, this is an alternative route?” Lodtrack nodded as he turned the doorknob. Upon entering, they heard the echo of a blow.

The door led to a drawbridge corridor supported by ropes just above the throne room, imperceptible unless you wanted to study the ceiling carefully. Although they trusted that no one would want to see that terrible ceiling of disordered wooden boards.

Leonor looked over the edge, and below, she saw her father kneeling in front of Draco, who seemed to be saying something, although he couldn't hear it. Leonor's blood boiled. What was a noble doing kneeling like that in front of a commoner? He tried to shout at them, but Lodtrack stopped him and forced him to move through the corridor until they were out of the room.

The door rumbled, and everyone froze. They waited a few seconds, and the door rumbled again.

“Run!” Lodtrack shouted, but was interrupted by a gigantic explosion that destroyed the door and knocked everyone in the place to the ground.

Draco got up, coughing and surveying his surroundings. Most of the traps had become unusable due to smoke and debris; Some even went on a rampage and took several soldiers. Fender was lying on the ground trying to get up; he didn't seem injured, which reassured Draco until he saw a man lying next to him. Federic was unconscious with a bloody head, and his legs were buried under a large piece of stone.

Soldiers tried to regain their sense of direction and help their injured comrades; at least two-thirds of them were dead, and many more were wounded. Draco estimated that about 20 soldiers and mages remained to fight.

The guard looked at what was left of the entrance, searching for his enemies in the smoke that was starting to dissipate; although he could hear their steps, he felt them approaching. Quickly, the soldiers still standing began to take combat positions, attempting the formation they had practiced, although it would be of little use at the moment. A couple of soldiers helped Lord Fender get up and return to his throne; he kept his hands on a pendant and squeezed it as if his life depended on it.

A sorcerer's cry alerted Draco, and he looked back at the entrance; his body instinctively recoiled at the sight of many soldiers approaching in formation, making room for a dozen hooded figures to stand in front of them. Silo was at their side, disoriented and crouched down.

“But what? What does this mean, Silo?” Draco asked furiously. Silo lifted his head, seeming to want to say something, but he continued to tremble and hesitate until the hooded figure in the center raised his hand, ordering him to be silent.

“There's no need to get upset, Lord Guard,” said one of the hooded figures with a feminine voice, stepping forward along with the one next to her, gently revealing their faces. “Dirty sewer rat.”

Draco examined Verónica's face, which had a strange smile filled with anger and hatred; he observed the other hooded figure who had approached, seeing an elderly face full of wrinkles. Long grayish hair. Draco quickly recognized him.