Chapter 277 - The Ancient City of Estora

2.45 am. Time to sleep lol.

The ride got bumpy fast—turns out, dragons weren’t particularly adept at carrying extra people. The hammock-sling was jostled about in every direction, leaving Hump’s head swimming. All he could do was grip the handles for dear life and cross his imaginary fingers that he lived to reach Estora. If not… well, it was a long way down. At least it would be a quick death.

The veil of death over the forest was like a blanket across the land. From above, Hump caught glimpses of green where treetops poked out. Other than that, all was obscured by it, and swamped in Irila’s power. The pillars of purple essence still rose in the distance as her formation across the land continued to give power to this darkness, the once green and luscious forests of Drakalyn lost beneath.

Hump looked over it with sadness. He wondered how many people lay dead inside. A part of him wondered how such vast magic could ever be expunged, but he knew the answer to that. Kill the lich, and all this would cease to be. Magic could not survive without intent, and however powerful this lich was, her magic would still fail.

“Gods give us strength,” Walt whispered in Hump’s mind. “You know what, kid? Maybe we should fly off to somewhere safer. Not sure I like the look of this place anymore.”

“This is nothing,” Hump said. “It’s only going to get worse from here.”

Walt was silent for a minute.

“You wondering if I should have left you in that mine we found you in after all?” Hump asked.

“Hah! As if. This is hardly the worst thing I’ve seen. Back in my day, evil liches invading was a common thing. My da took one out with his bare fists. People back then were built tougher.”

Hump frowned. Walt had a tendency of exaggerating things, but that just sounded ridiculous. “Right…”

Soon, Hump caught sight of smoke rising from the shadow. They reached the edge of the forest where the lake lay. Battle took place over its hills as the people of Drakalyn fought off the undead horde. The light of Chosen powers and necromantic magic sent flashes through the sky and ravaged the land. The people of Drakalyn fought in dense lines, pushing back the undead horde with steady progress, while archers rained arrow fire down from vantage points on nearby hills. They’d managed to reclaim the Temple of the Lake already, yet the lich’s power still struck a pillar to the sky. It would be some time yet before they took control completely, especially without the dragon keepers for help.

That was, of course, if Hump didn’t think about the reinforcements that were no doubt on their way. The lich’s endless armies could not be beaten in battle, they could only be slowed. Being this close to the pillar, he sensed Irila’s devastating strength. Her body had been destroyed in battle, but he still feared what they would find in Estora. How did they contend with… this?

He tried to find the lich’s generals amongst the army, but the force was too large. Overlords radiated magic, empowering the lesser undead. There were crystal shrines spotted amongst the force, ghostly streaks of essence connecting to everything around them, fuelling them onward.

Howls sounded to the west, and Hump spotted the gnoll pack engaged with a large group of undead direwolves that they must have caught scouting. They charged through the creatures, ravaging them with their swords and spears. While lacking Chosen, the gnolls were taller and stronger than humans.

The howls came again, sharp, repeating beats—an alarm. As Hump searched the battlefield, he realised why. Fleshy abominations and twisted creatures, moulded by the lich’s power, charged from the southwest, breaking free of woodland that extended around the lakeside near the mountains. Amongst them, a creature far greater than the others. With five legs and three arms, it was a juggernaut of flesh and muscle, tearing up trees wherever it passed. Its head was almost crocodilian, only it had no scales, only grey, stretched skin and long fangs.

Gnolls fled from it, and the pack broke away from the direwolves, retreating toward the Temple of the Lake where archers made ready to fire upon the monsters. Itris and Aurora diverted toward them, bellowing mighty roars and bathing the monsters in fire as they passed over. Cheers erupted below, and then they flew onward, gliding across the lake with breathtaking speed, ripples spreading out below as they passed.

Yunillia led them southward, toward the mountains. A few flyers rose into the air in an attempt to intercept, but they were quickly left behind. Their path was left unchallenged. Soon, the mountains drew nearer. Itris beat her wings and they rose upward. Weight pressed down on Hump and his stomach churned again. Aurora followed a wingspan behind them and to their left, screeching with excitement. The air became cooler as the figures and trees below became distant, yet still they went higher, until they flew over the mountains and entered the Charred Heights.

From above, the mountains were mostly brown and grey stone, broken up by short, patchy grass that seemed dull in the overcast light. Hump took in the expanse, the mountains stretching on endlessly, the horizon blocked out by the faint peaks of distant giants, and beyond that, a smoking peak.

He took it all in—the Fallen Lands. The world left behind when gods had left them ravaged and monsters had come knocking at their cities. Even with the present crisis, Hump couldn’t hold back his reverence. He flew with dragons across a land his people had not seen for hundreds of years. A land they had long since fled. It felt like stepping into the past. From the sky, it almost seemed peaceful, that was until they passed another regiment of undead along the ancient roads below.

Thousands of skeletons and gods knew what else marched together. Arrows flew at them, but the dragons were too far up for them to be a danger. Hump spotted Irila’s black crows flock to the sky, but Itris and Aurora left them behind easily.

Up here, there was no defence. There was nothing to slow them down. They flew like a storm into the dark clouds of the lich’s power, the great vortex of darkness at its centre growing ever closer, until finally their target came into view.

Estora—the ancient city lost to the Fallen lands and now claimed by Lich Queen Irila. Seeing it from above, Hump could imagine it for the metropolis it once was. The ruins of the city formed a rounded shape, split in two by a river that snaked through its centre. The first thing Hump noticed was the lack of life. There were no trees or grass. It was a city lost to time, but for the figures that moved through it like ants—an uncountable number of undead that stood between them and the lich.

“What do you see?” Celaine shouted at him.

Now that wasn’t a question Hump was used to hearing from her.

With an application of will, he imparted essence to the seed of the Great Tree. Power flowed back through him like a breath of fresh air. He took it in greedily, the power flowing to his eye without requiring his direction. Hump closed his eyes and focused for a few seconds, gathering his intent as he activated Spirit Sight.

He sensed his dragon blood grow hot. Essence built in his eye. He sensed his new ability’s power activate, steeled himself against what he was about to witness, then opened his eyes.

Dark energy rose from the city in a purple mist. It flowed in channels of light that ran through the streets. A boiling pit of death and magic unlike any Hump had seen before. So powerful, it contorted the energy of the world around it like a gravitational pull. There was no speck of life in the city; just relentless, unending death.

“The lich’s power runs through streets like streams,” Hump said. “It all comes from a giant lake of power beneath the building near the centre of the city.”

“The one that looks like an arena?” Celaine asked.

“Yeah.” Hump frowned at that. He was supposed to be searching for the palace, but Celaine was right, it looked more like a fighting arena.

“Do you see the palace?” Hump shouted back.

“East of the river,” Celaine said. “Near the middle.”

It took a second, but Hump found it, only it was on the opposite side of the river from the arena. The lich’s power seemed thin there.

“Well?” Celaine pressed.

“There’s nothing,” Hump said. “A bit of death essence, but compared to the rest of the city it’s weak.”

“Do you think Winston lied to us?”

“More likely, Irila is just good at covering her tracks,” Hump said. “She probably has some sort of essence veil like those warlocks in Sheercliff.

Fire flashed over the arena and Hump’s eyes were drawn back to it. He caught a glimpse of dragons within.

“Ado and the keepers must be in there,” Hump shouted.

She leant forward, peering over the edge of their hammock. “Along with an army of undead.”

Hump’s stomach dropped. “And if Winston’s right, no phylactery. They’ve been lured into a fight they can’t end.”

Ado must have identified it as the densest point of essence too. Destroying it might be enough to shut down many of the undead, but it would not kill Irila. So long as she was alive, more power sources could be created, more undead summoned, and there would be no end to this war.

Yet looking at the palace, Hump couldn’t help but have his doubts. Were they foolish to believe Winston? What if the phylactery wasn’t in the tunnels beneath the palace, but it was a trap waiting for them instead?

Yunillia made the decision before Hump could think on it further. Itris dropped suddenly, leaving the cover of the clouds and flying for the palace. It wasn’t long before screams went up around the city as the lich’s force spotted them. Flyers launched themselves from everywhere, flocking to the sky like smoke as if the entire city had suddenly erupted. The screams became shrill and louder as an army of undead screeched at once.

Essence stirred above, then suddenly Itris was thick with it. She folded her wings and dove. The wind blasted him, all but blinding Hump. He would have screamed if he could but the wind had been knocked from him. He caught a glimpse of the ground getting closer faster than he could have imagined. Fear welled in him. His heard thundered.

And a thrill ran through him. This was the hunt he’d craved. Drums beat in his ears and soul, power flowed through him, and battle awaited.

Buildings raced toward him. The ground came up, getting closer. Closer.

Is she ever going to slow down? Hump thought, panic finding him.

Then Itris unfurled her wings. He grunted at the sudden momentum change. She glided into the palace grounds, floating over the ruins of a wall to where skeletons clambered on top of each other in their rush to meet them. They filled the courtyard to the brim, packed like a festival crowd. Something Itris and Aurora had a good solution for.

Dragon’s fire exploded forward, carving a line through the host of undead, right up to the steps to the palace entrance. The thick stench of smoke filled the air as grey pillars and raging orange obscured the land before them. Without a word, Yunilla dropped from Itris’ back, plummeting to the ground.

Thunder bombed. Blue light flashed above as if Seres himself had appeared beyond the dark clouds. Lightning erupted, piercing through the sky and striking Yunillia below. The world turned white, and a great boom echoed through the courtyard. Hump blinked and opened his eyes to a wave of power that sent the undead flying back in all directions, as if swept up in an avalanche. At its core, Yunillia crackled with blue lightning. Her spear was in hand, and her eyes shone like piercing bolts.

With a landing area cleared, Itris beat her wings as she hovered in place, slowly lowering them. Hump braced himself just as he struck the ground. Bruised and battered, he grunted and lay there for a second to catch his breath. Celaine was already moving. She rolled free of the hammock, reaching for the bag where their weapons were stored. To Hump’s left, Varesha and Glys were on their feet.

Celaine tossed them their weapons as Hump scrambled to his feet, then threw him his staff. He caught it with his right hand, his left going to his spellbook. Nearby, Aurora landed—Finnian, Ashera, Lia, and Nascal joining the madness of battle. Essence soared and light filled the space around him. The dragons rampaged through the few enemies that remained nearby, wielding their bodies like giant whips and clubs. Aurora was magnificent to watch—lithe, powerful, and fast beyond anything her size should be capable of.

Itris, however, was beyond imagining. Hump had fought an undead wolf dragon in Bledsbury Dungeon, and he had seen them in action since coming to Drakalyn, but seeing Itris now made him truly glad they were on the same side. In a blink, she had carved a path toward the steps ahead of them, clearing out a small gap between two outer buildings. Where skeletons managed to attack her flanks, their weapons glanced off iron-hard scales. She was a force of nature.

“Up the stairs!” Yunillia shouted over the mayhem. “We make for the palace.”

It was a clear path. They raced along cracked, grey stone. Hump conserved his essence as lesser undead chased after them, leaving them to the others to finish off with simple physical attacks. He would no doubt need his essence later.

They reached the steps and started to climb, Aurora and Itris on either side.

The palace doors were still intact. They were made of polished metal and adorned in golden runes. Yet it was the heavy thuds beyond that drew Hump’s attention. And they were getting closer.

A roar sounded beyond, stopping the group in their tracks. The doors blasted open with a boom and the fleshy, skeletal remains of the fallen dragon charged out, shining with the purple light of Irila’s magic. A figure sat on her back, clad in thick black armour and a helmet that hid all but its red eyes.

The dragon reared back its head, purple light flickering in its throat, growing hotter like a bellowed furnace.

A wave of heat spread through the air, and then fire erupted.