Son of the Dragon (The Netherworld Gate Book 3) (7 page)

“While I empathize with your loss, that does not change my decision,” the priestess said, unmoved. “I have allowed you both to witness the cleansing of the sword. With that finished and the assassin dead, your tasks set by Jahre have been completed, and therefore your time with the Kruks has come to an end.”

Phinean looked as though he had been hit by another clap of thunder, and he reached out to the stone wall again to steady himself as he took in a deep breath.

“What of me?” Jaleal asked. “Can you send me back to my home?”

“I have spent much of my magical energy,” the priestess admitted as she placed Drekk’hul back in its scabbard and secured it to her belt. “Between healing the wounded and cleansing the sword, I am nearly spent. However, I can augment Phinean if he believes he can replicate the spell that was used to send him to you in the first place.”

The two of them looked to Phinean.

Straightening himself and running a hand over his beard, Phinean considered the proposition. After a moment the gnome cracked a half smile and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he shrugged. “The thing is…”

“Don’t tell me it was an accident,” Jaleal said, remembering the gaffes with the magical potion back at Elroa’s tower and other bungles that Phinean had made recently.

“No, no, it wasn’t a mistake, I assure you!” Phinean shouted quickly. “But I had a bit of help.”

“Help?”

Phinean nodded. “I used a spell that Jahre gave me.”

Jaleal sighed with relief. “I don’t care who created the spell, just use it again and let’s be off.”

Phinean shook his head and held up a stubby fingered hand. “No, I mean, Jahre created the spell that
found
you. I can transport us, so long as the priestess augments my power, but I have no way of locating your homeland. Picture it like this, there are three holes in the ground. You can’t see down any of them, but of course you can jump in and slide to wherever they lead. The problem is, only one goes to your home. The other two could lead any number of places.”

Jaleal turned to the priestess. “Can’t you help?”

She shook her head. “If Jahre located you with a spell, then he either had something of yours in his possession, or he saw you clearly enough in one of his visions to get a fix on your position. I have nothing like that to assist me. Besides, what I would need is some piece of your homeland to locate your home with. Since you are already here it wouldn’t do any good to waste a spell locating you.”

Jaleal’s mouth fell open. “So there isn’t anything you can do?”

Phinean cocked his head to the side. “We can give it a go, and hope for the best.”

“I can aid you somewhat,” the priestess said. “I can focus on the Middle Kingdom, but even then, it isn’t a guarantee.”

“So my option is to jump somewhere without knowing where I will end up, or to stay here and…”

The priestess shook her head with a firm look on her face. “There is nothing for you here. As I said, I appreciate your efforts, but you cannot stay on Selemet. The gnome tribes on the outlying islands may take you in, if you wish to seek them out.”

Phinean shook his head this time. “No, they won’t,” he said. “If they were the welcoming type, I would not have fallen in with Jahre. The gnomes who were left after the Elf Wars are a suspicious lot, and frankly they are mischievous at best, and murderous at worst.”

“Which is precisely why I can’t allow gnomes to work with the Kruks,” the priestess said. “The Kruks are in a dire predicament as it is. I can’t afford to rebuild the organization with any connection to a people that the elves of Selemet do not trust. You could, alternatively, go to the mainland in the north if you wish.” With this the priestess retrieved the darkened Goresym from the stone table and motioned for the two gnomes to follow her back through the stone portal to the corridor with the carvings. The passageway sealed itself behind them, and the glowing outline of Lemork and the Black Dragon faded away.

Jaleal considered the possibilities as they made the return trip through the corridor, and back through the heavy black door covered with wrought iron. The thought of being permanently trapped in a place where he could not travel through trees or use his magic freely was daunting. He could see from the corner of his eye that Phinean also walked with stooped shoulders and a heavy air about him. He glanced briefly at Phinean as the priestess raised her hand again and returned the thorny vines to their position on the door. Phinean did not return his gaze, and Jaleal tried to imagine what the older gnome might be feeling. Jaleal had found his home village changed after a relatively brief absence, and the attitudes of his clan members cold and uncertain as a result of his perceived abandonment of them. He could only imagine what it might feel like to have no home at all to return to, and nothing but foreign and hostile kinsfolk to potentially turn to.

He nodded resolutely to himself and clapped his hands together as the priestess closed the door behind them as they returned to the simple room which led to the makeshift hospital where Phinean had lain the last two days. “Let’s jump,” Jaleal said abruptly, and Phinean turned to him with a look of confusion on his face, seemingly having been lost in his thoughts and unsure of what Jaleal might be referring to. “I’d rather start over somewhere new than stay here any longer. Let’s go. Let’s go right now, Phinean. You and me.”

The suggestion almost seemed not to register with Phinean at first. Then, as he considered the possibility, he began to nod slowly. “You are the first gnome I have spent much time with in over two centuries, and you did save my life.” A smile began to pull at Phinean’s mouth. “Also, I suppose the chance to journey nearer to Terra’s Navel and experience the wonder of travelling
inside
of a tree is one worth taking. I must warn you though,” Phinean added, becoming more serious “we might land in an ocean somewhere, or a frozen tundra, or anywhere you can imagine. There is a chance we can reach your home, but the odds are at least two to one that we end up somewhere else.”

Jaleal shrugged. “I have slain dragons and assassins, crossed over continents, and ridden an orca across the sea.” He shrugged and offered a hearty smile. “Let’s just do it.” He pointed his finger at the priestess. “You try to get me at least as close as the Middle Kingdom, and I can do the rest.”

Phinean sighed, then nodded his head to the gleaming mithril weapon which stood against the wall. “Alright, best get your spear, you know, in case we land somewhere else.”

Jaleal held out his hand. His spear appeared in it and he grinned widely. “I have been practicing calling it.”

Phinean grinned back at him. “Well done! It isn’t an easy spell to cast in this part of Terramyr.”

The priestess stepped forward and smiled softly. “I think this is a wise choice. Allow me to prepare a temporary safe keeping for these items, and I will be back shortly to make the preparations to send you on. Though I could not permit you stay longer, I am grateful that your life path brought you here to assist us.” ”

Jaleal nodded to her and returned the smile. “Happy the stone worked on that sword,” he said, pointing to the weapon which the priestess was now handing to a servant who had emerged from the hospital room. “And please be sure to take proper care of that stone. The Father of the Ancients himself gave it to me. I wonder if he knew it was on its way to contain a piece of the black dragon’s soul.”

The priestess raised the Goresym to eye-level and considered the darkness swirling inside the stone for a moment, then smiled slyly and replied “I know just where to keep this item. Don’t worry. It will be safe with us.”

CHAPTER 5

Kai, Seldaric and Liloriel stood before the priestess in the small library which was located just beyond the recovery room the three of them had been confined to for the last few days. Only a few minutes ago they had watched as the gnome which had saved their lives by finally killing the assassin had been whisked away with an older gnome through a portal, bound for some unknown part of Terramyr. It seemed there was some uncertainty as to the precision of the spell being used, because the older gnome had been fidgeting nervously during the preparations, and just before the portal had opened, the priestess had expressed her hope that the spell would work as she wished them farewell, commenting that they would likely not meet again.

Now that the four of them were alone, the priestess had gotten right down to business, providing them with new orders. As the priestess discussed with Seldaric and Liloriel their assignment to return to Svatal and begin rebuilding the order there, Kai waited off to the side. A single, round table stood in the room, with a long, rectangular box of silvery metal resting upon it. Kai could scarcely take his eyes off the box. He only half listened to the priestess talk about recruiting new Kruks and rebuilding damaged Kruk property in Medlas. That was Seldaric and Liloriel’s interest, not Kai’s. Kai watched the box. He was somehow drawn to it. The sword was inside of it, he knew.

Drekk’hul, the Son of the Dragon.

The box was smooth on top, but there were runes carved into the side facing Kai. A spell of some sort, to mask the sword’s presence, or so the priestess had said when they had first entered the room.

She had explained the purging ceremony, but Kai still wondered what abilities the sword might yet possess.

“Are you listening, Kai?” the priestess asked.

Kai tore his eyes away from the curious box. The priestess gave him a hard look.

“I healed your body twice, Kai. The least you could do is offer me your attention.”

Kai nodded. The priestess let her eyes linger on him a moment longer to emphasize her displeasure, then she turned to Seldaric.

“As we have discussed, you will return to Svatal and help Liloriel rebuild there. Kai,” the priestess said as she turned to him. “I want you to take this sword. Travel south by south east. When you reach the other side of this island, I want you to cast the sword into the sea.”

Kai balked. “You want me to throw it away?”

The priestess nodded. “The sword may be clean now, but its history still remains. There is no elf on this isle that would care to see it free from its sheath ever again.” The priestess stretched out her hand and set it upon the metal box. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

Kai shook his head. “I can handle it.” He wasn’t about to deny the temptation to run away with the weapon, but he knew better than to trifle with this priestess. If Liloriel was deadly, then this priestess was three times more dangerous. Crossing her would be beyond unwise, even for the ex-Ranger.

“When you are done, I want you to return to me. I will have another task for you.”

Kai nodded. “When do we leave?” he asked.

The priestess arched a brow and looked at him curiously. “Now.”

*****

“Have you decided?” Jahre asked from the mists of the immortal plane.

Talon’s ghost turned from the final vision he had been shown to regard the dead sage’s specter. It pained him to agree with the elf, but he had no other choice. Jahre held the one thing Talon needed, the magic to resurrect him. No, it was more than that. He had also managed to show Talon the error in his ways. As much as it dug into Talon’s pride, the assassin had to admit that Jahre was not without virtue. This didn’t make Talon accept the elf by any means, but it was enough to secure a compromise between the two.

“Send me back to the plane of the living,” Talon said.

“What of Basei?” Jahre pressed.

“I will kill him, as I always intended.”

Jahre nodded. “What of the others?” Jahre indicated toward the fading vision of Drow centuries from now who could be living with him in the astral plane as faithful followers – even friends.

Talon nodded slowly. “I can see the wisdom in tempering my blade, but I cannot make any promises not to spread death to the other gods, or even to the elves on this island.”

“Will you at least consider it?” Jahre asked, a sincere, concerned frown upon his ethereal face.

“If the things in the visions you have shown me prove to be true, then I will.”

“Ah, so that is it, eh?” Jahre asked with an understanding nod. “You still don’t trust the things I have shown you. You think I am trying to trick you?”

Talon stood stoic. “I have spent my life believing a certain way, it is not easy to change that.”

“But is it difficult because you honestly can’t see the truth for what it is, or does your pride prevent you from accepting what you can plainly understand to be the truth now?”

Talon narrowed his eyes. “Time will unravel the mysteries you have shown me,” he said. “If your visions are true, then so be it, but I will not forswear myself before knowing for sure.”

Jahre nodded. “That is acceptable, I suppose. In any case, we are out of time. I do hope you will continue to search for truth. If you look for it, you will eventually find your way.”

A terrible thunder shook the area. A black slit ripped through the fabric of reality before them. A bony finger emerged and wrapped around the rim, pressing the rift apart.

“It is time, elf sage,” a booming voice said from beyond the rift. “I have come to collect my due.”

Jahre turned to Talon and wrung his hands nervously. “Don’t do it for me,” he said. “Do it for your father, and your mother. For their sakes, search for the truth. Promise me that much.” Talon could feel the urgency in the elf’s voice. The quivering spirit before him was nearly panicked, glancing to the rift several times as he waited for Talon’s response. “Perhaps, after the End War, you may be able to barter for your father’s spirit again. The three of you could reunite in Volganor, after the end has been avoided. Perhaps your father can be released from Hammenfein in that day, and your mother, whose soul wanders the realm of the dead for now, will at last be able to cross the bridge to the Heaven City when it will be reopened. If only we can overcome the End War, it is possible, Talon. If only you seek for truth. Let go of power for anger’s sake! Promise me that!”

Talon turned and saw Khefir, the great god of the dead who collected the souls bound for Hammenfein step through. The assassin felt something shift in his soul at the elf’s pleading. Seeing Jahre beg from him was not as enjoyable to the dead assassin, as it had once been. There was no victory here for Talon. There was a concern for Talon’s parents in Jahre’s voice that somehow managed to reach Talon’s innermost humanity when all else had failed. Before the assassin even realized who was speaking, he answered the elf. “I promise to search for the truth, and follow it.”

Jahre smiled then. He extended his hand and a blue flash of light erupted before Talon. His spirit was ripped out of the immortal plane and landed hard on the cool grass of a hill in the forest. The morning dew dampened his skin. A gentle breeze tickled the hairs on his arms and legs. Talon was alive again.

He sat up, looking around in all directions. It was strange to feel himself inside a body again, and realized with surprise that he was cold, and hungry. How quickly it seems he had grown accustomed to existing as a spirit without these physical discomforts. He noticed that the sun was fully above the eastern horizon, and realized it must be the third day since he had fallen in battle. Turning a more discerning eye on his surroundings he realized that the vegetation around him was that of the elven isles.

Not far from where he was now sitting, he spied a curious rock, oblong with the narrow end buried in the dirt nearby. Talon saw letters on the thick end, carved into the stone, and for a moment wondered what a solitary grave might be doing here in the middle of nowhere. He crawled closer and saw not the runes of the elves written on the stone, but familiar letters written in Common Tongue. He placed a hand on top of the stone as he read aloud, “Talon, if my first plan has failed, then you will need what is below. Search for truth.”

Talon turned the stone over and then cast it aside. Noting how easily the earth had moved aside when he pulled at the stone, he dug at the dirt with his fingers, pulling the cool, gritty substrate away and scattering it behind himself like a dog might. Soon he had enlarged the hole considerably and deepened it as well. After many minutes of digging, right before he was beginning to think there was nothing there, he struck a wooden box. He used his fingers to trace the box’s edge in the dirt, then he stood and decided to go to the forest and find a stick to speed the process. With the aid of his makeshift tool, he had the box out of the ground in minutes. There were no latches, no locks, and no hinges. The wooden box was seemingly a solid cube. Talon then lifted the stone which he had at first taken for a grave marker, and raised it above his head. He then brought it down ferociously on the box. The wood broke apart with a great
crrrack!

Boots and a trio of daggers spilled out from the inside of the box, and when Talon moved the fragments of wood aside, he found clothing, a hooded cloak, and a satchel with several dagger sheathes on belts inside of it. Talon quickly dressed his naked, reborn body and then moved to take the daggers. As he finished outfitting himself, he turned the box over, just to be sure that nothing had been missed, and a small, red book with leather binding slid out of a separate compartment. Talon opened it and discovered it was also written in Common Tongue.

Talon,

If you are reading this, then something terrible has shifted the webs of fate farther than I had hoped. In this notebook, you will find essential clues to where the relics will be hidden in the event of my death. Ironic, that I now give you these clues, as in my visions it is always you who kills me. Yet, if you are reading this, either I have managed to persuade you while in my spirit form, or, worse still, you have been slain and I had to resurrect you. If the latter is the case, then know that fate is very fragile. Everything you do will create waves that will shake and disrupt the tapestries of fate. Be careful that you do not stretch fate beyond its capacity to rebound. Should you fail again, I will not be able to remedy it. Still, know that what I did, and what I do, were and are compelled by the very purest of motives. The fate of Terramyr hinges upon your decisions.

If I managed to persuade your heart before you were killed, then the map to the Netherworld Gate is in the back of the book. Gods be with you in this case, for the prize is soon at hand. Open the gate, slay Basei, and restore order and balance. However, even as I write this letter, I cannot help but feel this is too lofty a dream to realize. The rest of this letter will be addressed to you as though you were killed, for despite all of my hopes, there is a nagging fear that tells me the visions I saw of your death will ultimately come true.

If you were slain, then you will need to act quickly. The remaining member of the Triad is a terrible and deadly Kruk priestess. In my visions there is only one time when you can infiltrate her inner sanctum and retrieve the artifacts you need once more. It will be the day of your resurrection, just after sundown.

If you have slain the gorlung beast, the first thing you must retrieve will be the fang you took from it. In life it may have seemed only a trophy, but it can summon the gorlung’s phantom for a short time in this plane, which will prove most useful to you. You will find this fang in the Shrine of the Kruk, along with the other relics.

In this book, you will find diagrams and maps. The first map is to the Shrine of the Kruk, a magically enhanced center for the Kruk order, located inside a small castle in the city of Tantine, that is where the Kruks will convene after you have been killed. The High Priestess will hold a recruiting ceremony. However, in my visions there is an elf that comes to disrupt it. His name is Fillion, he will by that time be a former council member of Selemet Isle. While he speaks, it will create a diversion that will allow you to retake the relics.

Above all else, be sure to take the fang first. Once you have it, summon the gorlung’s phantom. Don’t use it to attack anyone, just let the phantom rest in the inner sanctum. This will prevent the priestess from detecting that you have stolen the fang, for the phantom’s presence will remain there. The phantom will eventually be called back to its own plane, but if you are quick, the ruse will have given you a great lead and the High Priestess will be unable to track you.

Once you retrieve the artifacts, each marked on the map as to where they will be, make haste toward the Netherworld Gate. There will be a human warrior on the road. You must engage him in battle, as he will have Drekk’hul. Be warned, in some of my visions, the human is able to kill you. Still, you cannot lead the Sierri’Tai without Drekk’hul, so you must fight the human.

There is a map to Basei’s temple as well. It is an old map, drawn from memory and not from visions. I was there once. I tried to plead with Basei for balance a long time before your father was ever born. That is how long I have been trying to thwart the End War. Needless to say, the demigod of battle did not agree with me. I barely escaped with my life. That is why your father and I made our pact with Khefir. You, Talon, must succeed where I have failed. I tried diplomacy and reason, but you must use the sword to end the tyranny and death Basei has caused.