Dusk Falling (Book 1) (28 page)

The taller could not hide his shock and horror so was glad he was not currently under scrutiny. He pretended to take interest in the majestic waterfall, untouched and unspoiled, the small flowers that gently bent in the breeze; their smells and vibrant colors not lost on the watcher. It was a paradise yet the tall figure knew he should not be there. Were it not for the presence of the other, he knew he would have already been set upon and killed for trespassing.
Their kind
was not forgiving.

He moved off a safe distance and sat upon a smooth slate stone, feeling the spray upon his face. Absently, he rubbed the gold bracelet on his left arm with a thumb.

“Worry not. Do as I ask without failure and what I have taken will be returned. I gave you my word, didn’t I…”

He glanced over at the hooded figure that was now standing regarding him. The taller swallowed and gave an owl-eyed nod. He hoped he could trust what was under that hood to keep his word.

Chapter 22

The elongated chamber ended in a double set of stairs that rounded down to the main floor. Half of the foyer had crumbled down and the wreckage looked very old, as if it had happened long before the Votalo had claimed ownership. A broken fountain stood by the half-open arcadia doors.

Racing down the stairs, Agemeer leapt the rotting banisters; they made it to the doors moments preceding Crosshilt and his men reaching the end of the hall.

Outside the sky was gray with overcast clouds darkened the landscape. The team could see they were in a decrepit dilapidated keep, its courtyard lay in ruin. The stone walls were falling, one of the towers looked to have been brought down by catapulted boulders then burned out. Plant life overran the grounds, vines pushed through the cracks in the stonework. A single gated parapet stood directly across from the arcadia doors several yards north.

There were not many bodies of either the Verca or the defenders laying outside- most of the Votalo numbers were inside to maintain the ‘abandoned’ appearance of the keep. Some unfortunates had been on patrol when the attack began and had been dispatched swiftly before the alarm could be raised. Judging by the condition of the gated parapet, the explosion that had rocked the prison cell had initiated there. The portcullis was a twisted mess of metal, caught partially down unable to neither rise nor fall. The stone foundation of the parapet was made unstable by the blast, leaning farther and farther and with a bit of provocation would eventually tumble down.

To the east, two women and a child that could have been Panna slipped out through a narrow crack in the stone wall. A moment later Selicia came into view. The girl followed suit through the wall. Midway the broken parapet, Genlo slid to a stop.

“What is it?” hissed Serrtin, darting glances about the several hiding places amongst the broken wall segments for hidden archers or ambushers that the Elfkin’s superior senses may have picked up.

Genlo did not answer her but he no longer ran. He walked, his amber eyes gazing straight ahead.

“I must ask that we continue at a more swift velocity.” Agemeer said, crisscrossing their paths at a trot.

“Release the Seal now,” The Jrahda-trethen instructed, turning to eye the Bren. “Or I’ll be leaving these three up to you.”

Aya looked beyond him. She did not see anyone- wait, there was movement within the shadows of the parapet. “Three, he says.” She thought to herself. “I can take three. I will not let him order me around like that!”

The set of her jaw made him scoff. “Fine then. The one in the middle is a sorcerer, in case you didn’t notice. You deal with them while I make sure we’re not interrupted.” He couldn’t draw a lot of his resources to his hand so the dark sphere he formed was rather small to his critical eyeing. But it would do. Genlo stepped back the way they came and threw it as hard as he could. It connected with the keep just above the arcadia doors with a loud detonation that echoed around the enclosed courtyard. The old stone establishment whimpered and whined before its face fell down to crush the exit. For anyone to escape from that exit, it would take hours now- long enough for them to be far from reach.

Aya closed her eyes momentarily as dust and debris filled the air and upon opening them, the waiting Verca were no longer in hiding. There were three in number just as Genlo had said there were.

The man who stood on the left was tall and whip-cord thin. When the wind blew, his cloak swept back revealing the weapon he rested in front of him. His head and face was swathed in ribbons of white cloth and tied at his nape. His eyes were the only visible feature of his face. The comfortable way he rested his gigantic silver mace spoke volumes for his expertise.

The Verca on the right held his- no, her- twin daggers back so that the blades rested just below the insides of her wrists. Her short sawed-off auburn hair was pulled back out of her face by a leather bandana. A single scar ran down her cheek marring a face that knew the ravages of time and a hard-lived life.

A black-robed Nrithe filled the center of the three. He wore no accessories atop his avian head or on his crooked clawed hands but wore a beaded necklace around his throat, a small skull in the middle like a pendant. As with all Nrithe, he had a long thick beaky mouth and small beady eyes like burning coals.

Aya could not risk letting down her mental barriers in order to test Genlo’s statement about the Nrithe being a sorcerer but she did not doubt his word. Even with her senses in check, she could feel a slimy miasmic aura coming from the creature. The others simply looked vicious.

Shoulders set, the mage strode forward willing her stomach to stay where it belonged instead of trying to throttle her lungs.

“Aya, I’ll-”

“No. Please let me.” Aya said, silencing Serrtin’s protest.

“Yes, let the girl do it.” Genlo smirked, crossing his arms.

His ingratiating tone only strengthened her resolve. He plainly expected her to fail. “You three!” The mage called out, voice steady despite the butterflies she felt might fly out her open mouth. “We have no qualm with you. Let us pass without provocation.”

As expected, chuckles and muffled guffaws were her initial response. Aya was used to that. She
was
the unofficial spokesperson of the Hunter team.

“If you wan’ get past us, sweetheart, y’ll have ta go by way o’ us.” The woman said, an unfriendly smile on her thin lips.

“Aya,” Serrtin voiced lowly, not taking her eyes off the three Verca. “You can’t seriously be thinking-”

“I can handle this. If I look like I need help…” Aya waited until she got a nod from Serrtin- one the saurian seemed unwanting to give.

“Stop stalling. Let’s see what you got,
Hunter
.” Genlo prodded unhelpfully.

The three Verca wore various expressions from blatant amusement to suspicion- the Nrithe being the hardest to assume. A small gesture rippled through the warriors, a signal perceptible only to them, and they moved apart. The man and the woman circled left and right respectively whilst the Nrithe made his way from the center.

“This is ridiculous. Why are we messing around? She can’t-”

“It is what Aya wanted to do.” Agemeer mind spoke just to her. “I got the impression it had something to do with the young Dark Elf. Perhaps a challenge from a mage peer?”

“You’re as crazy as she is.”

“We argue not when you do this to us.”

“… ahg… I guess you have a point but this is not the sort of thing a mage like Aya should be doing.” Serrtin said, growing testy with not only her helplessness of the situation but also of the fact she had her sentences interrupted more than her fair share of times.

“If you don’t like it then I suggest you shut your mouths and keep watch for when your friend needs your help.” Genlo said, not bothered at all by the seemingly one-sided conversation. “Since you’re so faithless…”

“Bastard, this is your fault.” Serrtin growled. Genlo spared her a smile before turning surprisingly serious studious eyes back to Aya.

When Aya saw a flash of movement from the woman, it was purely out of instinct did her magic barrier shield come up. Something small and silver hit the shield but before she could see what it was, her attention was very suddenly diverted by a fierce yell. The cloaked man leapt into the air and brought down his mace with all his weight behind it. The mace slammed into the shield and held before knocking the man back on his feet.

If she had not been a mage, she would have been crushed, the small silver object having been only a diversion to distract her from the real attack.

Aya dropped her shield and tumbled back, rolling and coming up into a half-crouch. She lashed out low with her ice spell, hoping the female Verca would not have been quick enough to perceive her move. Aya guessed right and the woman stumbled as her ankles suddenly became bound in thick ice.

Using the spare moments it had taken for the wrapped man to steady his nerve-wracked hands from the impact on the shield to mount another attack, Aya brought into being her ebon cutter. The man had charged but upon seeing the shadowy spell he halted to proceed with better caution.

He twirled the heavy-headed mace with a quick glance to his female ally. The ice had not yet released her feet and she chipped at it with an angry knife. “I’ll give you credit for being far more skilled than I first thought but you can not hide behind a shield all the time.”

“You’re right.” Aya breathed. Raising the cutter over her head, she put voice to her attack and slashed downward. Just as when she fought Xiethes, the dark spell ate into the ground and extended, tearing a path to her opponent.

But the masked man was no novice; he dodged to the side and came up running. When he got close, he swung out his mace, hoping to crush the mages legs out from under her.

Aya brought the ebon cutter down and slammed the point of the spell into the ground.

When the mace struck, the cutter sheared off the top half and sent it spiraling into the distance- much to the shock of the Verca soldier.

Sensing the expiration of her ice spell, Aya pivoted and brought the cutter back at a slant. The woman screamed as the magic blade easily disarmed her, breaking the knives she held and shredding her upper extremities in one stroke. It was a vicious spell; at least, it could be when used to its full extent. But Aya was not a vicious person. The cutter could have taken off the woman’s arms then gone straight through her body but instead Aya
tailored it to inflict damage but not kill. She would need the assistance of a trained healer to be able to use her hands again.

Aya had demanded her spell to be hard, to strike down one of those malicious tormentors, but she couldn’t bring herself to kill. Not with that spell. Not the Ebon Cutter.

Hearing a savage growl, the mage turned back only to be bowled over by the man’s heavy weight. Aya landed hard with the Verca falling on top and before she could catch the breath that was knocked out of her, she found she couldn’t breathe at all as a pair of large calloused hands wrapped around her throat. Aya struggled in a blind panic, hearing her companions call out but the man was too strong.

His face was a foot from hers, close enough to see the anger in his blood-shot eyes. Her vision swam and bursts of light flickered behind her lids. Her lungs ached and burned, her own strength was fading.

“Aya! Fight him! You cannot lose!”

“Agemeer.” Her lips moved to say her friend’s name. Exactly the opposite of what the man expected, the girl ceased her struggles but the light in her eyes did not go out. They seemed to brighten instead. With conviction, Aya raised her hands and took hold of the fabric at the Verca’s neck. She centered her energies and let them expand.

A cold mist felt like it settled on her skin even through her clothing. An aching shard of ice felt as if it had lodged itself in the center of her chest, eclipsing the discomfort in her lungs and neck. She could feel the cold emanating from her body. It swirled, leaving trails of ice along her arms and across the Verca soldier’s chest.

With growing hesitation, the hands about her neck released just enough for Aya to grab a painful gulp of air. Releasing it, the ice cocoon ruptured outward and the man’s sudden cry was cut short.

His muscles froze- literally, his eyes glazed over in ice and his heart ruptured from the strain. A small rivulet of blood ran out of his opened mouth before freezing solid. The Verca was dead.

Aya struggled, pulling the cold hands from her throat and wiggled out from underneath him. Her face was pale, expression reflecting the shock and horror she felt. She had not meant the spell she cast in desperation to have the kind of effect it had had. She breathed in short gasps, hands clutching her sore throat.

In a sudden explosion, Aya found herself lifted off the ground and thrown. Moments later when her sense returned to her, she found two arms holding her. They were warm and held her tight.

Abruptly, Aya found herself in the dirt with a sore tailbone, Genlo standing over her.

The Verca woman’s sobs were permanently silenced and the dead soldier was no more. A pile of blasted entrails and churned dirt remained as evidence.

Genlo explained quickly and as concisely tart as he explained anything. “You idiot. Did you forget the real threat?”

“The sorcerer…”

“The necromancer.”

Aya rose to her feet. The Nrithe was gleaming now in a visibly malignant haze of energy. He laughed, a hacking unpleasant sound. “Yesss. I want to thank youuu for the energy. I hadn’t expected you to kiiill them, but…” He laughed again, thin pointed shoulders rising up and down. “I’m not going to aaargue my benefit.”

“So what are you doing to do now?” Genlo asked Aya, eyes on the Nrithe. “You used more energy than you had to just to defeat his lackeys.”

She gave him a look, proving herself quicker than he had given her credit for. “I know what you are trying to do. I won’t release the Seal any more if that’s what you were hoping to accomplish.” Aya gasped and dodged to the right, Genlo to the left as the Nrithe necromancer attacked with a wave of negative energy. It flew from his long-fingered hands, meeting the ground with an explosion of sound, coughing up another cloud of dust and rock. Blinking away small particles, Aya was suddenly rocked by a flood of miasmic energy- horrible, black negativity, a backdraft of a spell wrought from death and destruction. It seized up her mind in dreadful whispers and she clutched a fist to her chest, sucking in air through clenched teeth. Shakily, she turned her head to regard Genlo.