Echoes of Broken Vows

Chapter 12

Rowan crouched among the shadows of the eastern ridge, the night’s breeze was cold. His heart beat faster and faster within his chest, but his hands remained steady, his years of training holding his nerves in check.

Below, the convoy of wagons was on its way through the narrow pass, the creak of wheels and the soft clopping of hooves on stone carrying clearly in the quiet night.

Rowan’s eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the group, quickly finding Sam among the guards. The moonlight glinted off the polished wood of the wagons, the middle one carrying its precious, dangerous cargo of Mytholite.

As the convoy drew closer to the ambush point, Rowan took a deep, centering breath. Everything he and Sam had worked for, all the risks they had taken, came down to this moment.

He flexed his fingers, ready to spring into action at Sam’s signal. The fate of their world hung in the balance, and Rowan knew that after tonight, nothing would ever be the same.

The convoy entered the narrowest part of the pass, high rock walls looming on either side. Rowan’s eyes remained fixed on Sam, watching for the agreed-upon signal. His muscles tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Sam slowly stretched – the signal.

Rowan went into motion without hesitation. He vaulted from his hiding spot, his ebony attire blended seamlessly with the shadows as he descended upon the convoy.

Landing silently on the roof of the middle wagon, and vaulted in through the open hatch, Rowan drew his sword in one seamless motion. He kicked one of the guard’s rib cage and sent him to the wagon’s wooden wall. Then sent his sword through his eye a turned around to cut down the other two guards by the throat before they could even cry out.

Still, he got noticed.

Sam played his part perfectly, he shouted orders and drew his weapon with convincing fervor. “Protect the shipment!”

He bellowed.

Rowan moved like a wraith, his blade singing as it cut through the air. Guards fell before him, their cries of alarm and pain echoing off the rocky walls of the pass. He caught a glimpse of Sam pulled out his sword, making a show of trying to defend the wagon.

With a powerful kick, Rowan knocked open the wagon’s rear doors. Inside, crates of glowing Mytholite cast an eerie purple light. He reached for the magical explosive they had prepared, similar to the one used in their previous attack.

Just as he was about to place the explosive, a sharp pain exploded in his shoulder.

An arrow poked out from his flesh, and he turned to see a guard with a crossbow taking aim for another shot. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Rowan deflected with his sword another arrow from the guard and hurled a throwing knife with deadly accuracy.

The guard fell motionless to the ground.

“Behind you!”

Sam’s warning came just in time. Rowan spun, his blade meeting that of another guard in a shower of sparks. They traded blows, steel ringing against steel, as Rowan fought to maintain his position by the Mytholite.

With a desperate surge of strength, Rowan feinted left, then drove his sword through a gap in the guard’s defense. As the man fell, Rowan turned back to his task, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder.

He activated the magical explosive, its blue glow intensifying as he placed it among the crates of Mytholite.

Sam still maintained his cover, shouting orders for the remaining guards to fall back. As they scrambled to retreat, Rowan leaped from the wagon. He and Sam locked eyes for a brief moment, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Then Rowan was running, sprinting for the cover behind one of the rocks.

The night erupted in a blinding explosion with a flash of blue and purple light, followed by a thunderous shock wave Rowan felt in his bones.

As Rowan reached the safety of the ridge, he turned to survey the destruction.

Where the convoy had been, a crater now smoldered, wisps of smoke rose into the night sky. The Mytholite was destroyed, and with it, the Eidolon’s plans for mass ascensions were delayed further.

Panting heavily, his shoulder throbbing, Rowan allowed himself a moment of grim satisfaction.

They had succeeded, but he knew this was only a small victory. The Eidolon would retaliate, and the true test of their rebellion was yet to come. There is a price to everything, he told himself.

Rowan melted into the shadows, beginning the perilous journey back to the temple, feeling the blood flowing slowly on his back. The explosion’s echoes still rang in his ears, a reminder of the irreversible step they had taken. His shoulder throbbed with each movement, the arrow wound a constant, burning presence.

He paused at the crest of a hill, looking back one last time at the smoldering crater that had once been the Mytholite shipment.

The smoke that rose into the night sky seemed to mock the Eidolon’s grand ambitions. He felt a mix of emotions surge within him, pride in their success, fear of the inevitable fallout, and a painful uncertainty about what would come next.

A thought that made his body shiver battered him as he turned to continue his journey. What if Sam’s cover had been compromised? What if, his friend was going to face interrogation or worse? The possibility of having condemned Sam to a fate like Einar’s made Rowan’s blood run cold.

He rushed on through the night, trying to think of new plans and their contingencies. One thing was clear, their act of rebellion had set in motion events that would make everyone’s lives different. Whether for better or worse remained to be seen.

As the first light of dawn began to break on the horizon, Rowan finally reached the temple, what once was his home. The temple’s imposing silhouette could be seen from anywhere in Varesh, no longer a symbol of security but a lurking threat. He knew that within those walls, the repercussions of their actions were already unfolding.

Rowan slipped into a hidden alcove, he undressed and changed back into his Eidolon robes, wincing as the fabric brushed against his wound. As he emerged, and approached to enter the temple, a single question burned in his mind:

In the new world they had just created, who could he trust?