Dusk Falling (Book 1) (27 page)

“From what I know about Kcrie’s Seal spell,” Agemeer quickly interjected. “Only Kcrie herself can undo them once they are in place.” The old scholar let that sink in before continuing. “Therefore there is nothing that can
be done right now to remove the spell completely. Might I suggest a show of good faith on both sides? A lessening of the confines for one and patience of the other?”

Serrtin and Genlo eyed each other until he decided to include Aya in his glare.

The Jrahda-trethen breathed in, swaying on his feet as his powers flooded into him. It flew down his arms and into his fingers, his legs and his feet. He felt lighter but did not let the enjoyment hinder him from drawing it into his hands and forming his dark claws. Genlo couldn’t help but grin nastily at the lizard, hoping she took it exactly as he meant it. She made a face.

“Watch him.” Serrtin instructed her team.

With a derisive snort, he brushed past Aya hot on Serrtin’s trail. “You just make sure to stay out of my way.”

“Don’t harm any of the Votalo members- they are not entirely in the wrong.” Aya instructed. Genlo halted at the exit.

“Better do as she says or it’s back to being plain ol’ defenseless magicless Dark Elf for you.” Serrtin commented, taking some delight in that. “Alright everyone, stay close together and let’s move fast. The less time we spend in one arae, the less difficulty we’ll have. Agemeer, any assistance on locating this hellhole’s door outta here would be appreciated. Aya, you’ll be our eyes for ambush and cover fire. So,
Genlo
, we’ll be carving the path. You’re the quicker, lead off.”

Genlo gazed at the saurian as if seeing her for the first time. Instead of treating him like a prisoner (or worse, bait) she included him in the escape plan. The trethen had to admit, it was a nice change. “Fine. See if you can keep up.”

In a swish of long snow-colored mane, the Elfkin took off at an easy jog, staying low to the ground with his claws ready. Serrtin and Agemeer were prompt to move after with Aya trailing whilst she steadied her nerves for what lay ahead.

The hall opened into a large chamber with multiple doors. Bodies littered the hard marble floor amongst discarded swords and splatters of blood and effluence. The high domed ceiling had multiple glass slits that let in light from the sun, illuminating the grisly scene.

None of the bodies were moving and were assumed all dead- there was no time to check even if they desired to. A fight was being waged down the open hall to the right judging by their ears. Genlo lead them forward, choosing a door while Serrtin stood guard, eyes open for stragglers.

Genlo yanked open the door and peered inside. It was quiet.

“That heads down, like the cell we were in.” Agemeer said. “I smell closed up air.”

“Next one.” Serrtin instructed. “And make it fast, sounds like one side’s about to loose.”

The Jrahda-trethen threw open another door and the team stepped into chaos.

The rectangular adjoining room held the bulk of all the fighting. Jrellin was there, the brown-haired Larren’s face was grim as his blade flew. He cut down one gray-cloaked figure and pivoted, carving a gruesome wound in the next foe. He had not yet seen the escapees busy as he was with the Verca. The intruders had focused most of their attention on the skilled swordsman but Jrellin did not yet look hard pressed.

“Quickly! Out that way!” Agemeer mentally shouted, pointing his nose past the battle. His sharp eyes saw the chamber corridor as empty up ahead.

“Move! Before we are spotted and have to take on all this mess.” Serrtin instructed, trying to keep to the wall. “Genlo, get moving. What are you doing?”

It only took a second for the Yarcka to realize what he was doing- he was thinking of exacting a small bit of vengeance for the trouble.

“
What do you think you’re gonna do
?!” Serrtin demanded, resisting the urge to snatch up the youth’s collar and shake him like a dust rag. “We have mere seconds before we are seen, don’t waste them!”

“Why is it you think I care about being seen? There are barely enough here to-” Genlo flinched back from a sudden spark.

Aya dropped the shield to the clatter of a flung knife. They’d been seen.

“You! How did you get out?” cried a balding swordsman. He pointed to them but his knife had been clearly aimed at the Elfkin. “Parsl, Trec, to me! We must stop them!”

All hopes of an uneventful escape were banished lead in rabidly fast steps by the white-clothed trethen. Aya’s call of his name did not deter him from cutting down the first man he reached.

Of course, the girl’s cry brought with it many eyes. None were friendly.

“I knew it. Just knew it.” Serrtin groused. “Oh, no you don’t!” A knife taken from a body near her feet found its way deep into the back of a gray-cloaked man attempting to make off and warn his fellows. The Yarcka rolled her eyes in exasperation. What good were plans anyway? Especially if no one followed them.

Serrtin dispatched another gray-cloak. She was careful to only injure the men who were working for Crosshilt- not that the man who received her giant fist in the center of his very surprised face knew she was actually being lenient. Those she knew were Verca however, she took out rapidly and effectively. Serrtin fought her way through the rabble, showing finesse in choosing who met her flamberge and who was simply put in a world of hurt.

Genlo, the Yarcka was slightly amused to see, was getting very much his wish. There were plenty of Verca soldiers willing to throw away their lives. She got the distinct feeling the trethen was blowing off steam, having not taken so well to the confines of the spell and other constrictions placed on him. Having the opportunity to take out his aggression fit his current mood perfectly. He was not being mindful of which were okay to kill and which were blatantly pointed out as not. To him, they were both the enemy and all fell before his dark claws.

The trethen looked to be caught up in the moment from Serrtin’s biased view point and though she did not blame him, she knew the wise choice of action still lay outside of this building. As ‘fun’ as large-scale destruction may be, the Yarcka had companions to think of and the amusement of watching the trethen’s fluid dance of carnage would best be suited for another time. None-too-delicately removing her blade from some fool’s clavicle, Serrtin moved on to the next in an effort to reach Genlo.

He, in turn, had no awareness of the situation he placed the saurian warrior in nor would he much have cared. He was not looking at faces or bodies, he was using his senses to pick up lifeforces. Then he made it so those lifeforces disappeared permanently. None of his opponents had managed to scratch him yet though not from a lack of trying. The Elfkin was simply too fast for a normal Larren swordsman and he was taking full advantage of that.

A spray of crimson from a throat Genlo barely registered having cut momentarily blinded a dark-haired Larren in stitched leathers; his death was equally as messy. Catching a sword on crossed claws, the Elfkin was forced to leap back out of strike range of a parry knife that wizzed by his midriff. He threw the blades weight off and busted the man’s knee backwards with a sharp kick. Genlo brought back his right hand to drive his claws through the Larren’s unarmored chest when Serrtin reached him. She grabbed his wrist without giving thought to the possible consequences.

The Larren momentarily forgotten, the youth pivoted on one foot and Serrtin was forced to catch his other wrist before she was impaled. Her sword hit the floor in a clatter. Grasping his arms tightly over his chest, she gave him a rough shake. “Stop it! They’re all down or dead. Stop, you hear me?!”

Immediate instinct was to break free and kill the saurian but the sounds of swordplay nearby brought his out of the battle rush he had been experiencing. When he stilled and the bloodlust fled from his eyes, Serrtin released him, albeit carefully, and retrieved her blade.

Less than twenty feet away, the only standing Niredes Votalo follower in the chamber continued to fight. He did not possess great speed or extraordinary strength but he was skilled. Jrellin kept at bay two attackers at once, the serious gash on one of his legs not slowing his movements but was taking its toll. Crimson ran freely and unchecked down his leg and onto the floor, making his footing slippery.

Jrellin’s reflexes gave out and he went down to one leg. The two Verca saw the opening and went in for the kill but the captain was not ready to give up just yet. He swept out his blade and took off the nearest’s foot below the knee. In a last ditch effort he brought the blades point up and rammed it into the gut of the man poised above him with all the strength he had left. As the man’s sword fell from a limp grip and he tumbled over backward, Jrellin fell to lie on his back.

The Niredes Votalo captain lay there breathing hard for several seconds but fanaticism drove him back to his feet. He stood amidst the hewn bodies of his friends and followers but did not grieve for their loss. He could not yet. He had a job to do. “How… did you get out of your cells? What… did you do to Telvim?”

“Nothing, Jrellin.” Genlo responded. His eyes gleamed under lowered lids. He hadn’t had the chance to fight the Larren one on one and he found the prospect intriguing. Genlo stepped over a downed soldier.

“Jrellin? That name sounds familiar.” Aya thought to herself. The Bren mage had stayed out of the fight, her magic too dangerous to use in such close quarters with so much movement around her. “That is the name Crosshilt had mentioned. And Genlo had told Selicia to thank him, I think, for the drink. He’s one of Niredes Votalo and he’s injured- bad- Genlo can’t possibly be thinking of fighting him now.”

“Aya dear, please refrain from getting too close. I worry you may get caught in between.” Agemeer said softly.

Jrellin was speaking again. “If Crosshilt would have listened to me sooner none of this would have happened. This all would have been over already.” His leg almost buckled under his weight. Blood from an unseen
cut spilled over his eye. “We both feel remorse over what we must do but it is a necessary action. If Crosshilt can’t bring himself to then I’ll finish this myself and bear the brunt of what I’ve done.” The captain stumbled slightly then halted, sword gripped in both hands in front of him.

Genlo peered at Jrellin through the two prongs of his claws. Blood dripped off them- Verca and Votalo alike. The grin that split his face was frighteningly eager. “I was hoping for a shot at facing you. Nothing too personal but I can’t have you dogging my trail out of here.”

“And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.” Jrellin responded with a smile of his own.

As the Larren and the Jrahda-trethen faced each other, the onlookers were amazed at the lack of animosity after they had had words like they did. Both knew exactly where they stood with each other, there were no pretences, and knew the others’ frame of mind. They did not begrudge the other for the paths they had to walk.

“You’ve no chance of beating me, not in the condition you’re in.” Genlo told the captain, eyeing the deep gash on his leg.

“I’m aware of that.” Jrellin said lowly.

“Suit yourself. I’m not exactly the noble type who’d go easy on you just because you’re wounded.”

Voices halted the Jrahda-trethen’s attack instead of the outstretched hand of hand of Aya, the call of his name. The voices were coming from the circular room they had arrived in when coming up from the prison cell, more than likely from one of the two halls that had stretched out opposite of each other.

“That’s Crosshilt.” Agemeer informed them.

“Genlo, let’s go. We don’t know how many he’s got with him. We can’t risk it.”

“It doesn’t matter how many he’s got.” Snapped Genlo.

“You idiot, at least think about the fact the Niredes Votalo hate the Verca too. If you kill all of them, the Verca would be the ones to benefit. You want to make them happy? You’d be doing them a favor.”

Judging by his expression, the youth had not thought of it that way. Growling in irritation, Genlo bolted but his voice drifted back to Jrellin. “Keep your life for now. Make it worth it for the next time we meet.”

Crosshilt and the remaining Votalo entered the chamber just as the captain’s knees gave out.

“Jrellin!” The Kassar exclaimed. He was at his friend’s side in a heartbeat, catching him before he fell. Crosshilt’s blue eyes flew to the bodies that surrounded them, the lifeless forms of those he once considered friends and allies. “Check for survivors.” He ordered huskily.

“Kassar…” Jrellin spoke. “I’m sorry. I failed. The Yashvre has escaped.”

“Not yet he hasn’t. Hang on Jrellin, help is coming. I need to leave you but don’t worry, you’ll be all right. Neis can heal you.” The captain gave the barest of nods and then gave way to unconsciousness. Gently, Crosshilt laid the man down and gained his feet. “I need two to stay here. The rest, you’re with me. Someone fetch Neis and bring her here.”

The Kassar’s eyes were flinty and steady, mouth set. “We cannot fail. Not now.”

One hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, the leader of the Niredes Votalo moved off. He hurried but did not run for he knew what else lay outside the strongholds walls even if the Yashvre did not. The Verca were waiting.

~ ~ ~

Two pairs of eyes stared down into the cold depths of a pool of water at the foot of a waterfall.

“M-maybe I should go now.” One figure voiced uncertainly.

“Oh? Volunteering such as this is not like you. Are you becoming impatient to finish with our bargain?”

“I-it’s not that.” The original speaker mewled, knowing a trap when he saw one. “It’s just I am afraid that should something happen before the appointed time, you may blame me.”

The hooded figure grinned in his shadowed depths. “You show prudence and forethought to rival your cousins,
myfriend
.” He paused while a range of emotions flickered over the taller figure’s smooth face. “But should you leave now you still would not arrive quick enough to aid the situation.”

“Then… help me.” He did not relish the asking.

“You know I can’t do that.” The hooded figure crouched and looked back into the spring pool. “Besides it’s much more fun this way.”