Son of the Dragon (The Netherworld Gate Book 3) (15 page)

Talon turned up and aimed his sword at the shadow on the dock. He wasn’t sure it would work, but he had to try. He sent one more lightning spell out from the sword. The deafening boom it created nearly stunned Talon, and the force of the spell shot him another four yards down into the water, slamming his back against the bottom of the bay. Luckily, that push was just enough for him to avoid being struck by the fire serpent. The magical snake shot past him by several yards, and started to make a wide arc to circle back, but it never got the chance to finish its attack.

The lightning bolt shot out from the water with tremendous force, blasting apart the dock and sending Klegin flying up into the air. The attack must have destroyed his concentration, for the fire serpent disappeared and Talon was safe.

The assassin made for the surface and crawled onto the bank just in time to see Klegin pushing to his feet. Klegin sneered at Talon and started to call forth another incantation, but then an arrow went through his neck.

Talon looked up, expecting to see his other followers, but instead he saw the she-elf that had sailed him from Svatal to Selemet.

“Elorien,” Talon said with a slight appreciative nod.

Elorien looked over her shoulder, giving Talon a hard stare, and turned to face him. She lowered her bow, but Talon could see she was contemplating whether he also deserved an arrow. Talon sheathed Drekk’hul and walked toward her with his hands out.

“I didn’t want this,” he said quickly. “That’s why I came to stop it.”

He walked slowly toward her, watching her hands to make sure he would know when to dodge an arrow she might fire his direction. That moment never came. She watched him approach, silently studying his movements. Elorien never nocked another arrow. When the two were only a few paces apart, Talon saw the elf from the doorway approaching them, his simple, worn robes flowing out behind him as he moved forward with a grace which did not match his advanced age.

“Elorien, put the bow down,” the elf said.

Elorien did not obey. She kept her eyes locked on Talon.

“By the Gods, Elorien, he means us no harm. He was helping us, can’t you see?”

“This is the man I told you about, father,” Elorien said quickly. “He is the one that I brought here.”

“You told him about me?” Talon asked. “I thought we had an arrangement.”

“Don’t be too hard on her,” the male elf said as he stepped up beside her and struggled to catch his breath. Only now did Talon realize that the other elf was a fair bit older than he had previously thought. “She has never been able to keep secrets from me. One could say I pulled it out of her, even.”

“Magic?” Talon asked.

“No,” the elf said with a smile and a shake of his head as he placed a hand on Elorien’s shoulder. “A father’s intuition.”

“Haroon recently came back from the city,” Elorien stated, gesturing vaguely back to the smoldering village. “He told us that there had been a murder while the Kruks were recruiting new soldiers. He said that the relics had been stolen and that we were all in great danger. Now, here you are with a band of Sierri’Tai elves.” She pointed at Talon accusingly and swept her hand to indicate the dead Sierri’Tai around them.

“These were not my warriors,” Talon said. “The Sierri’Tai queen wanted no war between the elves. She made me promise to avoid war, and I intended to do exactly that.”

“It appears that Master Klegin felt differently,” Elorien’s father announced as he looked at the body lying upon the ground. “I would suspect that these are his kinfolk then, is that correct?”

Talon nodded, surprised to hear the old elf call Klegin by name. “I have seventy warriors that follow me, but they mean no harm to this village. Two clan’s heads, Klegin and Ferrick, betrayed my trust. They promised to help me build ships and sail away, but Klegin broke off and attacked before I could stop him.”

“I also know Ferrick’s name. And what of
him
?” Elorien’s father asked.

“I killed him and his twelve kinsmen before I arrived here.” Talon then cocked his head to the side and asked, “How do you know Klegin?”

The old Tomni’Tai elf drew in a deep breath and frowned. “There was a time, many years ago, when we were friends. This village is not my home, it is only where I have lived since the end of the Elf Wars. In the past, I resided in a city which time has now forgotten and the forest has swallowed. Klegin lived there as well. We were class mates. My sister even married his cousin. But, that was a long time ago. All friendships and relations were severed when the Elf Wars began.”

“I’m sorry,” Talon offered.

“You’re sorry?” Elorien echoed. “You seem quite a different man from when I met you before.”

Talon nodded, but he didn’t explain himself. Instead, he went back to speaking with her father. “My warriors will be here soon. We had planned to build ships on the southern coast, and make for the mainland without calling any attention to ourselves, but now that this has happened, it won’t be long before we are discovered by other cities. We won’t have the time to build any ships without further bloodshed. I am in need of ships, and I need them quickly.” Talon let his eyes wander to the handful of fishing vessels which lay moored a short ways down the coast from the ruined dock. “We’ll be taking your boats.”

“Are you he?” the elf asked. “Are you the one Jahre talked about in his letter to Loerik?”

Talon lifted an eyebrow and shrugged. “It would appear that I am,” he said flatly.

“I am Fyrik,” the elf said with a slight bow of his head. “I am one of the two Tomni’Tai mages that Loerik came to for help in designing and executing the spell that would banish the Sierri’Tai. Since then I have led my people as our numbers slowly dwindled. ” Fyrik looked around at the destruction and his shoulders drooped a bit. “Of course, it has not been an easy lot for my people either. Since the war ended, we have been relegated to this village. Trade is sparse and respect from the other races is virtually non-existent. This is why I sought an arrangement for Elorien which would allow her a life away from this place. It seems, however, that was not meant to last.” At this, Fyrik turned his eye to Elorien, who merely tightened her jaw in response. The old elf stepped away from them toward the charred and shattered dock. He stared out to sea for a few moments, seemingly weighing a heavy matter in his mind. “I will tell you what,” Fyrik said abruptly as he turned around and strode back to Talon, “if you agree to take the survivors of this village with you, then you may have any vessel that is still intact.”

“Father?!” Elorien said. “We can’t go with them, we don’t even know where they are going.”

Fyrik smiled. “I know,” he said. “This man is going to slay Basei, the demi-god of battle.” Elorien looked at her father with a shocked expression, and then back to Talon, looking for confirmation.

Talon shook his head in exasperation at the idea. “If you have warriors, I can take them, but women and younglings should stay here. If I am successful, then I can come back for the others.”

Fyrik looked around again and nodded. “Klegin and his warriors hit us hard. We were not prepared, but we still have a few reliable magic users among us. If you want to take our boats without having,” here he cleared his throat significantly, “troubles with the winds, then you must accept my proposal: My people all go.”

Catching sight of his warriors rushing in from the forest beyond the village, Talon wanted to cut this conversation as short as possible. As he turned to jog away from them he quickly replied “Very well. Everyone can go, but once we land, the warriors are with me and women and younglings will find a place to wait for their return.” Fyrik nodded his acceptance and Talon hurried to intercept his warriors before any further difficulty was met with the Tomni’Tai.

Shrieks and gasps erupted throughout the village as Leflin led the other warriors in. Talon was quick to call out and order his men to stand down, trying to ease tensions before any more loss of innocent life occurred.

Fyrik caught sight of one Tomni’Tai man preparing to attack, so he threw a gust of wind that knocked the young elf on his rump.

Talon nodded approvingly to Fyrik. “These are my warriors,” he said. “They will not harm anyone in the village, make sure the others know that.”

Fyrik rushed off one way while Elorien moved quickly through the village in the other direction.

Talon’s faithful company of Sierri’Tai used their fire magic to help control and extinguish the fires set by the treacherous Onjhi, but even with the quick work of their combined strength and power, they could not save more than a fraction of the village’s houses and buildings, many of which had been demolished upon impact when fireballs had been called from the sky during the initial raid.

Soon they all gathered on the beach, where Talon was directing his warriors to prepare the largest of the boats which were still intact. The assassin noted the fearful look on the surviving villagers’ faces, but he put it out of his mind. There was nothing more he could do for them beyond what it seemed Elorien had already undertaken to do – organizing the able-bodied to remove the dead, and removing the children with their mothers to the opposite side of the village where their injuries could be tended to.

In a moment that certainly bespoke the changes he had experienced in his heart, the idea briefly occurred to him to stay and rebuild the village for this battered people, but the thought was banished almost as soon as it entered his mind. Doing so would slow them down and risk discovery by the other elf races on Selemet Isle. More than that, had already decided in his mind that he would need to tell Fyrik that their arrangement would not be kept. He was not equipped or prepared to lead an exodus of refugees, and whatever strength the Tomni’Tai warriors may be able to add to his company of Sierri’Tai, it would not compensate for the liability the women and children would be.

As Talon stood upon the beach, Fyrik approached him.

“Perhaps it is time to properly introduce myself,” Fyrik said.

Talon shook his head dismissively. “I think we have gone over that already.”

Fyrik laughed and waved an arm at the village. “I am the patriarch of the Tomni’Tai,” he said. “It is something like the clan leaders among the Sierri’Tai, but instead of controlling only a single family, I control the entire village.”

“Like a chief, or a king,” Talon commented dryly with a nod. “What is that to me?”

Fyrik frowned and stepped in front of Talon, blocking his view of the schooners that the Sierri’Tai were working to gather. Fyrik brought his face in close and looked Talon in the eyes. For a moment, Talon felt as though Fyrik was peering through him to his soul. The thought unnerved him and reminded him of the uncomfortable three days he had spent with Jahre on the plane of the dead. “You have seen what happened today,” Fyrik said. “Have you no compassion?”

“We can’t stay, if that’s what you are asking,” Talon said quickly. “And frankly, we can’t take you along either. The path we are following leads to greater danger than what your village suffered here. I’m sorry, but I will simply be taking your boats.”

Unexpectedly, Fyrik grinned and clasped his hands before his waist as he pursed his lips and nodded. “True,” he said. “The path you walk is fraught with danger. I suppose it will be better for my villagers to remain here, where they can be interrogated by the Svetli’Tai when they arrive to investigate the large plumes of smoke that covered our homes today.”

Talon turned a hard eye on Fyrik. “Are you saying you will tell them where we went?”

Fyrik shrugged. “I am saying only that someone might.”

Talon’s anger boiled in him. His instinct was to reach for his sword, but Fyrik held up a hand.

“However, if we went with you, then no one would be left to talk at all. The Svetli’Tai would uncover only that a group of drow fought here. They will guess that the slain Sierri’Tai are from the Netherworld, of course. Their armor and dress is far too strange to be from Terramyr. However, that means only that they will then make an assault on the Netherworld Gate, which happens to lie in the exact opposite direction.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that going with us is calling more danger upon your people,” Talon said.

Fyrik nodded and shrugged again. “Yet, it seems as though none of your warriors are capable seaman. Tell me, can any of them pilot a vessel?” Fyrik stepped out of Talon’s line of sight and pointed to a group of Sierri’Tai madly trying to work the sails on one schooner. Another group was futilely trying to paddle a smaller fishing boat with boards. “It seems that perhaps we can be of some value in that endeavor.”

Talon sighed. He knew that Fyrik was right. “Very well,” Talon said. “But we split the survivors so that each boat carries only a few.”

Fyrik smiled. “I will have my people gather provisions for the journey.”

“Make sure that there are no children on my boat,” Talon said quickly, but Fyrik was already walking away from him.

*****

“What were you talking about with him?” Elorien asked.

Behind her were a handful of women and three of the older Tomni’Tai children who had been attending to the needs of the young and wounded. They were all covered in dirt and scrapes, but none of them were mortally wounded from the assault.

“I negotiated for all of us to go with them,” Fyrik said as he approached the group.

One mother pulled her child in close to her side and shook her head as she walked away. Elorien was quick to announce her displeasure as well.

“We can’t trust them,” she said.

“This is not open for debate,” Fyrik replied. “I have already decided the matter. Now go, collect supplies for the journey across the sea,” he told the drow behind Elorien. Each one of them looked as though he had stabbed them through the chest. A couple of them silently let tears fall over their cheeks, but they all turned to obey his command.

Elorien stepped in close, about to argue with him, but Fyrik turned a fierce eye on her. “I have long been a preserver and protector,” he told her. “I have ever been looking for ways to improve our lot. Since the war ended, I have merged families, built the Tomni’Tai people up from the verge of extinction, and increased our trade and production capabilities.”

“No,” Elorien said hotly. “This is not the right move.”

Fyrik huffed and shook his head, his eyes growing angry. “Elorien, even your marriage was done in an effort to advance our people. Your union was going to provide additional trade opportunities. Your husband is a great, important noble on Svatal. It should have been an alliance that vaulted our people forward. Instead, he was found to be without honor. I misjudged him.”

“I understood your reasons,” Elorien said. “But, I am talking about this assassin. We can’t throw our lot in with him.”

Fyrik sighed impatiently. “Elorien, by the power vested in me as patriarch of the Tomni’Tai, I dissolve your marriage with Luthen Vik’Drun, effective from this moment on.”

Elorien’s mouth fell open. She stammered for a response, but nothing came.

Fyrik spoke without waiting for her to recover. “Talon does not have a sparkling past, but I dare say he will yet prove to have more honor than your previous husband.”

“What are you saying?” Elorien asked in a weak voice.

“Only that I have ever been a protector for this people. When I see a chance to advance our position, I do so. I see such an opportunity now. When the time comes, I will decide whether to arrange a marriage between you and Talon. The man is prophesied to become a demigod! If appropriate, I will unite our two peoples, and bury this cursed feud that has banished our dear cousins and left us destitute and weak. Perhaps then I can right the wrongs that have plagued us for so long.”

“Father…”

Fyrik shook his head. “This, as other matters of state, is not up for debate. I suggest you try and get to know him. I will let you know my decision soon. Now go, find the best pilots we have left. We will need them to command the vessels and take us across the seas.”