LightReader

Chapter 96 - Chapter 96 — The Fortress Between Wars

The mist parted as they stepped past the wardstones. The air inside was heavier, warmer — thick with the tang of forge smoke and the low thrum of magic. Shadows resolved into structures: jagged stone towers fused to the cliff walls, rope bridges swaying between them, and rows of tents that looked half-military, half-refugee camp.

Everywhere, Dark Elves moved with a strange mixture of discipline and restlessness — armed patrols alongside smiths hammering blades, healers tending to the wounded, and scouts returning from unseen borders. The place was alive, but taut — like a bowstring drawn to its limit.

Vaeryn strode ahead without breaking pace. Guards saluted him — not stiffly, but with a familiarity that spoke of earned respect.

Caleb kept his voice low as they followed. "They're treating him like a commander."

Ezra's eyes narrowed. "He is a commander. Question is… of who?"

At the base of one tower, Vaeryn finally stopped. He spoke a rapid stream of Elvish to a nearby officer, gesturing toward the newcomers. The officer nodded, disappearing up a spiral stair.

Eliakim said nothing, but his mind was turning over every gesture, every tone. Vaeryn wasn't behaving like a rescuer. He was behaving like someone bringing in valuable assets — or valuable leverage.

"Alright, Captain," Eliakim said aloud, "mind telling us where we are?"

Caleb translated Vaeryn's reply: "A place the Queen cannot reach — and one the Legion cannot hold without bleeding. Here, you will have choices."

Ezra gave a thin smile. "That's comforting. In the way poison is comforting to a rat."

Vaeryn ignored the jab. Instead, he guided them toward a dimly lit hall cut into the rock itself. Inside, the walls were plastered with maps — some marked with the Queen's insignia, others with the sigil of the Dark Elf Legion. And overlaid across both, strange symbols Eliakim didn't recognize.

The captain moved between them with casual authority, pointing at certain routes, muttering in Elvish to a scribe. Caleb whispered, "He's talking about troop movements — but mixing details from both sides. He's… shaping the map so neither can fully win."

Gideon's brows drew together. "Why?"

"That," Eliakim said softly, "is what we need to find out before we become another piece on his board."

They were given a small chamber to rest in — little more than a carved-out alcove with bedrolls and a single barred window. The guards outside didn't feel like captors, but neither did they feel like allies.

From their spot near the door, Skyling tilted her head, feathers ruffling. "He's hiding something deeper. He's not loyal to the Queen. Not to the Legion. Not to us."

Ezra looked at Eliakim. "Then who?"

Eliakim didn't answer. But as Vaeryn's voice echoed faintly down the corridor — calm, measured, and always in control — Eliakim thought of one thing:

Men like that survive by making everyone believe they're indispensable. Until the moment they vanish.

And he had a sinking suspicion Vaeryn had no intention of vanishing alone.

More Chapters