Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) (7 page)

Carnesîr’s eyes sparked with anger. “What are you implying,
exactly?
”

Fëanor raised his chin defiantly. “I’m implying nothing. No; I’m saying it outright, to your face! Since you’re Xiiltharra’s favorite, then you deal with the consequences. Neither of us wants to be here, so stop trying to pawn this horrible decision off on us.”

Carnesîr shook his fist. “I’m not some court
dandy
trying to impress our queen!”

Fëanor spat back. “That’s a blatant lie. You’re always cozying up to the queen. Let’s be frank about that. Now she’s come up with this bright idea to steal dragon’s eggs and take them back to Brighthollow. And for what? For safekeeping? The eggs won’t hatch there! You know that. It’s sheer idiocy! What does Xiiltharra hope to accomplish?”

“Enough!” Amandila said, stomping her foot on the ground. Her voice rose back to a rabbit-like pitch. “Both of you, stop fighting! We need to cooperate with each other, not fight like children. Let’s decide right now what we’re going to do.”

“Fine,” Fëanor said, “I don’t agree with any of this mess, but you’re right—the sooner we get this over with, the better.”

“Right,” Carnesîr said. “I’ll decide then. I say we strike the nest tomorrow, at dawn. We know the location of the cave, and the decoy eggs are ready. There’s no reason to delay. We have to move fast, and we can’t be noticed.”

“And the eggs?” Amandila asked. “How many are we going to take?”

“All of them,” Carnesîr said firmly. “I’m going to follow our queen’s orders. That’s what Xiiltharra wants us to do. As you say—I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

Tallin, who had watched the exchange with rising horror, finally turned to leave.
I’ve heard enough. I’ve got to get out of here. I must warn Shesha and Duskeye!

When he turned into the bushes, his foot slipped. A sharp crack echoed through the air as he snapped a branch. The elves swung around, turning in his direction. Tallin cringed and froze.  He stood with his back to them, heart pounding in his ears, all the time willing his legs to remain still. He turned his neck slowly and looked back. The elves were staring in his direction, their mouths twitching.

“Did you hear that sound?” Amandila asked in a whispery voice.

“Yes; a branch breaking,” Carnesîr said. “Someone is out there. Listening to us.”

Fëanor walked toward Tallin’s hiding place. Crouching low, Tallin waited, taking deep, silent breaths, to control his heartbeat. Fëanor came closer and closer. The elf reached out, spreading the leaves with his hands.

Leaping from his cover, Tallin lifted his hands and shouted the words to a numbing spell. His hands glowed brightly.
“Detta!”
A burst of glittering yellow light shot out and wrapped around Fëanor’s body.

“I’m hit!” Fëanor screamed, clutching his legs. “Blast it! I’m hit!” His body crumpled to the ground. The glowing thread swirled and tightened around him like a whip. He let out another howl.

“It’s that infernal halfling! Catch him!” Carnesîr shouted. “He’ll ruin everything!”

Tallin dashed from the underbrush and sprinted into the forest. Carnesîr and Amandila immediately gave chase, their nimble bodies leaping over the bushes with ease. Fëanor’s screams echoed behind them. Tallin smiled to himself. His spell’s effect was only temporary, but it felt good to wipe the smug expression off Fëanor’s face.

Tallin ran onward, smacking branches out of his way, moving as quickly as he could. Behind him, the elves yelled a constant stream of threats and curses. Tallin struggled to stay ahead of them.

“Don’t let him escape!” Carnesîr shrieked, infuriated.

The elves moved to intercept him. Tallin ran faster. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Amandila snarled, and a gleaming orb of flame blossomed in her palm. She hopped over a log and paused just long enough to lob her firebolt in his direction. It tore through leaves and branches, burning a smoldering trail as it went. 

Tallin lurched sideways, throwing himself to the ground, and watched the ball sail over him and into a nearby tree. The tree burst into flames. Tallin jumped up and barely avoided another fireball; it missed him by a hair’s breadth.

He took off running again, hoping he could find a place to hide long enough to send a message to Duskeye. If he couldn’t, he wasn’t sure what the elves would do with him. They weren’t pleased. But would they really kill him just to keep their mission secret? Tallin gulped and kept running. They could certainly hurt him… he didn’t want to find out what they were capable of.

A huge wall of thorny bushes blocked his way, making it impossible for him to pass. He surveyed the area, but there was no easy way around. He would have to double back, and he didn’t have time for that. The elves were moving quick, catching up to his location.

He could hear their shouts behind him. It wouldn’t be long before they found him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

They would be there any second. Tallin pounded his fist against the wood and heard an echo. The tree was hollow. It was small, but he could just squeeze his body inside. He thanked the gods and wiggled through the opening at the bottom of the trunk. Peeking out through a hole, Tallin watched as the elves ran past him.

That was lucky. A deep breath escaped his lips. Tallin was a strong runner, but he knew that the elves would catch him eventually. Fast as he was, the elves were faster—and more nimble. His heart still pounding, Tallin touched the dragon stone on his chest and reached out with his mind, trying to contact Duskeye. He felt the dragon’s sleepy consciousness responding.

“Duskeye! Duskeye! Wake up!”

“Tallin? Where are you?”
Duskeye’s voice was sluggish.
“It’s so late—only hours before dawn.”

“No time to explain! Just listen to me! You must move Shesha to a safer location, and take the eggs with you!”

“What?!”
Duskeye’s sleepiness vanished.
“What’s happening?"

Tallin heard the elves circle back. They were close, so close Tallin could hear their light-footed steps. Only seconds remained. “The elves are here, and they plan to steal Shesha’s eggs! The elves are after me. Go south toward the desert—the tree sprites are spying for the elves, and the eggs won’t be safe as long as you remain here. I can’t talk anymore! Save the nest! Get Shesha out of this forest! Now!”

Duskeye tried to respond, but it was no use. Tallin’s head felt like it was on fire. The buzzing in his ears was so loud now that it was intolerable. His concentration broke, and he lost contact.

Tallin jumped out of the tree hollow and dashed back among the trees. He scanned the area. Hiding in one spot wouldn’t do him any good. They would find him eventually. If he avoided them long enough, maybe Duskeye could come and pick him up; but the safety of the eggs was the first priority. His only hope was to continue running, until he could get to a safer location. It wasn’t the best plan, but it was the only one he had.

He could see Amandila in his peripheral vision. She was closing in on him from the side. A pool of dark water, smooth like a river stone, appeared in the distance. Tallin sprinted for the water. He would have to get across.

It isn't that wide; could I possibly jump over it?

He wasn’t sure. He pushed off on the mucky shore and leapt. For a second, Tallin thought he was going to make it.  Already planning his next steps, Tallin jerked his head down when he felt his feet brush the water. He had misjudged the distance.

He fell backwards into the pool, finding it deeper than he anticipated. The water rose up to his chest. He tried to swim up, but he couldn’t move his feet. Mud sucked at his boots and up his legs until it reached his knees. His legs were stuck, and the more he struggled, the more he sank. Tallin tilted his head back and dirty water rushed into his nose.

Carnesîr’s voice resonated in the distance. “Look over there! There he is!”

Tallin ducked down into the water, trying to pull his boots out of the mud, but his feet were stuck fast. He ducked under again, this time trying to remove his boots altogether, but it was already too late. When he came up to the surface for air, the elves were right behind him. Sucking deep breaths, he heard the elves’ footsteps as they approached. He was trapped like a fly in a spider’s web.

“Strike him down, Amandila. But don’t kill him.” Carnesîr’s voice was icy as he gave the order. Tallin tried to glance behind him, but a burst of searing light exploded in his face. Then something hard struck his temple. Red-hot fire erupted in his skull. His body stiffened, and Tallin collapsed into the brackish water.

His limbs felt hard and inflexible, like bars of iron that had been welded together. Tallin tried to speak, but only gurgling sounds came out. The only thing he could move was his eyes. When he looked up, he saw both elves standing over him. His head throbbed and it was painful even to breathe.

“I’ve got him,” Amandila said. “Do you think he was able to warn anyone?” She dragged Tallin out of the water by his hair.

“I certainly hope not,” Carnesîr replied. “But we’ll know soon enough.” He poked Tallin’s side with his foot. “Is he still breathing?”

“Of course he’s still breathing!” she said tartly. “What do you think? My aim is better than that.” She leaned over Tallin, touching him lightly on the forehead. “I only crippled him. It’s temporary, but I’ll have to carry him out.”

With that, Amandila picked Tallin up and flung him over her shoulder like a sack of turnips. Amandila was lithe and strong; she carried Tallin without assistance.

“Let’s go. I’ll question him back at our camp.” They were still talking when Carnesîr waved his hand over Tallin’s face. After that, the world went dark, and Tallin slept.

Skemtun and Kathir

              In the vast caverns of Mount Velik, Skemtun trudged back to his cave, bowed and bent, his knuckles throbbing after a long day’s work. His back ached, and his mind felt like porridge. Sweat, gritty with dust, clung to his clothes and hair in a thick, uncomfortable layer of grime.

He was in a foul mood, and he hadn’t had dinner yet, which made everything feel even worse. He’d spent the entire week mining copper ore with other members of his clan,
Marretaela.

On top of his mining job, Skemtun was also a clan leader. While working in the mines sapped his physical energy, he found clan leadership even more tiring.

Last winter, Skemtun tried to resign from his position. Unfortunately, he found that resigning as a clan leader is something easier said than done. When he went to the council to submit his resignation, the group rebuked him and refused to grant his request. They said that, as clan leader, it was his responsibility to preserve the peace and to support his clan. Skemtun argued his case, but it did nothing to change their minds. The council’s stone-like faces never budged.
He couldn’t resign now,
they said,
not while the clans were still struggling. It would reflect poorly on the council.

And so, Skemtun was forced to stay on. He was stuck.
I’m so tired
—
I’m tired of serving everybody around me. I want a change. I wish I could walk away from it all.

Skemtun plodded along miserably. He felt broken down, physically and mentally. Toiling in the mines, his responsibilities to the council—it was so much work. Everything was too much.

Of course, the past few years had been hard on everyone. Times had changed, and not for the better. The dwarf clans always had disputes of one variety or another. But the problems had come to a head five years ago, when their king was nearly killed by an assassin.

After the attack, Hergung became bedridden. Once a great and powerful king, he was now weak and ineffectual. Without strong central leadership, the dwarves fell into embarrassing public squabbles, and a fierce power struggle erupted between the clans.

The first signs of serious trouble started with the Vardmiter clan. The Vardmiters got restless, and they didn’t want to stay at Mount Velik. They became so displeased with the state of affairs that they abandoned Mount Velik completely, moving west to the Highport Mountains. Their move had disastrous consequences for the other clans.

“Those lousy, rotten Vardmiters!” Skemtun swore under his breath. “They abandoned us when we needed them the most!”

Skemtun shook his fist in anger but then calmed himself down by taking a deep breath. The past was over and done… but not forgotten. No sense in brooding about it.

Skemtun thought of the last five years, going over the events in his mind. Trying to make sense of everything that happened. The Vardmiter clan was once the largest clan in Mount Velik; at one point, they had more clan members than all the other clans put together. And now they were gone. No clan had ever left Mount Velik before. With their move, the worst clan schism in their history had begun.

Skemtun sighed heavily. Perhaps they deserved this. Perhaps they should have known better.

A strict moral code had always dominated life in the dwarf kingdom, and the rules were oppressive to the lowest ranking clans. The Vardmiters were the lowest ranking clan in their social order, so they were often treated poorly. Other dwarves dismissed them. Mocked and belittled, the Vardmiters were treated more like animals than people.

The other clans didn’t eat or drink with the Vardmiters, and they weren’t invited to community events, not even ones in which all the other clans participated. They weren’t allowed to marry outside their clan. The whole clan lived near the copper mines in deep, isolated caverns set in the bowels of Mount Velik.

It was rare that the Vardmiters had any physical contact with the other clans. Consequently, they couldn’t move up the complex social hierarchy within the dwarf kingdom—their lives were set from birth.

The Vardmiters suffered through terrible working conditions and received unfairly low pay. But that was how it had been for thousands of years. It was tradition. And suddenly, the Vardmiters wanted to change all that. The Vardmiters’ clan leader, Utan, was a passionate young upstart, committed to progressive change. Utan wanted to improve the living standards of his people.