This battle was far different from the previous one. There were no casualties on our side, and the only injuries were minor scratches and bruises.
Everyone went through the arch and filed down to the dungeons. The dwarves went first, in case there were more creatures below. I hurried to catch up to them, but stopped when something caught the corner of my eye. I turned my head, but saw nothing. The hair on my neck rose, but I didn’t sense any magic. Krystal pulled at my arm, and I followed her to the dungeons. I made sure she went down the steps before I followed, still looking over my shoulder.
The humidity and stale air in the stairwell made me feel trapped once more. My stomach twisted into a knot. I couldn’t be sure if it was my nerves, or if it was something else.
When I reached the bottom, the strike force already had the cell doors open, and the prisoners were filing out. I pushed my way through all the people, making my way to the front by Krystal’s side.
The Royal Guardsmen of Alexandria were nearly naked, wearing dirty rags that barely covered them. They stank and were undernourished. Ardimus was in the worst condition. He leaned more than stood. Dark bruises encircled his face, and blood was crusted on his swollen lips. Lacerations and cuts marred his arms. Even in his condition, when he saw the princess his smile was full of love and warmth.
No matter what ragged condition they were in, their angry eyes spoke volumes, saying they were ready for battle.
“There’s one bloody fight ahead of us,” Jastillian said. “Are you and your men with us, Ardimus?”
“I’m always willing to kill as many of those creatures as I can; however, my first duty lies with the princess.” Ardimus turned to Krystal. “May I be allowed to leave your side and save our fair city, Princess?”
“No, you may not,” Krystal said. “I'm going to need you. You're to come with me while we find my father.”
He bowed. “As you command, Princess. My men and I are going to need weapons. I believe Premier had our weapons taken to the armory. Gods willing, his despicable creatures won't have ransacked it. I believe he promised to give them to his favorites as prizes after the battle.” He gazed into the faces his men. “Does everyone know what to do?” he asked. “You are to help our friends take back what is ours! For Alexandria!”
The Guardsmen of Alexandria ignored their wounds and raised their fists in the air. They stood straighter, their pride and dignity showing through their rags.
“If Her Highness will lead the way,” Ardimus said. “Make way! Make way!”
I was the last to leave the dungeon's depths. I was anxious for battle, but I wasn't craving it like they were. I wasn’t a warrior. I just wanted to be rid of the creatures and Premier. I didn't want to see any more of the good people of Alexandria, Erlam, or Sharald die.
As I walked towards the armory, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being followed. I kept checking behind me and around the corners, but there was no one. Prastian sensed my uneasiness
“Is something the matter, Hellsfire?” Prastian said.
“Something is wrong,” I said. “I don't know what it is. But I can't shake the feeling of danger.” I shrugged. “I haven't seen anything. Have you or any of the other elves heard anything?”
Prastian's long ears twitched in different directions. “Nothing.”
“I pray you’re right.”
We soon arrived at the armory. Prastian left me and went inside with the Guardsmen of Alexandria. I stood outside the entrance as guard, along with the dwarves and elves. I glanced from side to side, but saw nothing, so I peered inside the armory, curious.
The armory was larger than I expected—a long room bristling with weapons. Arrows were bundled and leaned against the walls. Wooden racks held swords of all sizes, from short swords and longswords to huge broadswords. Light gleamed off their deadly, sharpened edges, slicing through the air. Crossbows and longbows hung on the walls. Wooden dummies wore helms, armor, and shields. The polished steel shone, and the red dragon emblems gleamed like rubies. Even though I wasn’t skilled with a weapon, that deadly beauty was entrancing.
The men and women of Alexandria wasted no time. They strapped on body armor and breastplates. One woman tucked her ragged hair under a helm. Another man strapped the gauntlets on his arm. A shorter woman picked up a heavy axe and swung it through the air, testing its balance. A man restrung a bow and plucked the string. He nodded, satisfied.
Their transformation was complete in a matter of minutes. They worked in silence, the only noises the hiss of swords into sheaths and the soft clink of chainmail. A nod here, a look there, was all they needed to communicate.