The Elf King (9 page)

“
Why do they bother feeding
us then?” asked Qenn.

Kandish smirked, “Dead
bodies don’t sell.”

They went silent then.
Kandish became lost in her thoughts of the past week and the
brothers were thinking about her story and the woman telling it.
They were both impressed by the strength of her character; though
it bothered Qenn that she didn’t show any remorse from her actions.
He had never thought about killing anyone, let alone doing it
several times. The fondness he had for her changed slightly then as
he realized how dangerous she was.

“
We will do what we can to
help you escape,” Tane said after a few minutes of silence. He
wasn’t happy to learn that they would be sold, but it helped that
they had such a strong fighter with them. Once that door opened, he
thought, the odds might be with them.

“
Where are you from?”
Kandish asked soft and careless, as if an answer wasn’t really
necessary.

“
A small village called
Meadow,” Tane answered, just as depleted.

“
We were traveling to
Skadar Port when we were captured,” added Qenn.

Kandish’s face turned
instantly sour. “What business do you have in Skadar Port? There
are only thieves and killers there. Which are you?”

It was Tane who spoke out,
his voice remained clam, yet firm. “We are neither. We are looking
for help.”

Qenn nodded to his brother.
He liked how Tane had answered her. He almost smiled at the thought
that she was the person that they had traveled to find. He would
like that.

Kandish groaned, stretching
her long legs out before her, folding her arms in her chest. “You
two must be pretty desperate to look for help there.”

Tane and Qenn decided to
let the matter die there. They were unsure how much to tell her
just now; it was a matter that was still very painful to even talk
about.

The three were silent then
for a while as the wagon turned sharply this way then that, their
bodies gently sliding against the wooden walls with the sounds of
people around them still filling the air, though not as loud as
before. The wagon drivers began speaking again, yelling to others
in the streets, the voices yelling back. Seconds later the wagon
came to a sudden halt.

The three captives stood
immediately. Voices were heard at the back of the wagon, cursing
and arguing. Then it escalated. The sounds of a fight broke out,
quickly followed by a scream. Voices died down as it sounded like
the crowd began to dissipate.

“
We have no weapons, so
we’ll have to move fast.” Kandish was taking charge, moving towards
the door, ready for it to swing open. Tane and Qenn stood at her
side, reading themselves for the fight for their lives.

Outside the carriage, in an
alley behind a tavern located away from the main road, the two
gruff thieves were pushing aside drunks and other thieves, beating
those who would not move, guarding their keep. A man lay unmoving
next to the wagon wheel in a pool of dark liquid. The few men
hanging around the tavern were all hard faced and gruff, all sweat
and bruises, each appearing as if they had just lost a fight. The
wagon owners held their ground with long iron rods, speared at the
ends.

Finally after several long
minutes, a horse-drawn wagon arrived and stopped beside them. The
lone rider swiftly exited his seat and made his way over to the two
them guarding the wagon, who swallowed hard upon his arrival.
Others backed away whispering, their faces flush with caution and
recognition. Some left the scene altogether.

“
You Mason?” the smaller
thief called out, holding an iron rod is if ready to
strike.

“
I’m here for the Seers,”
the newcomer stated, his words laced in irritation. “Open the
door.”

The man was tall with a
knee-length black coat hiding his well-muscled physique. His hair
was long and brown, matted back. A lone scar decorated his tan face
just under his left eye, running across his slight beard to his
prominent jawbone. His eyes were dark and hard, fitting his
ever-present look of annoyance.

“
Hold on a minute,” the
smaller man objected. He pointed his iron spear at the other’s
face. “We also have a half-breed and an elf, so the price doubles.
Hand over the money, then you can take the wagon.”

Inside the carriage, the
three captives listened closely. The man they were being sold to
was there, and he didn’t sound at all pleasant. At least they would
be sold together, the brothers thought. They would have strength in
numbers.

Kandish’s face was lined
with anger. “Be quick, elf. And don’t be scared. If you have a
chance, kill them.”

Qenn stood at her side, his
nerves rattling him. His pulse raced like it did the last time he
was at home. He swallowed hard and tried to picture the
Takers
outside the wagon,
and the revenge he would have for them, but he couldn’t complete
the thought. The truth was, he was scared. And it was
showing.

Tane placed a hand on
Qenn’s shoulder to reassure him. “Stay close to me.”

“
Run when you get the
chance. And don’t stop.” Kandish barked. “You were wrong to come
here for help.”

In the darkening alley, the
two men guarding the wagon grew nervous as they stared down the
buyer. They whispered to each other in dismay for a few seconds
before the shorter man turned away, threatening the buyer with his
spear. “You’re not Mason, are you? Well, who are you?”

The big man said in no
polite manner, “Open the door.”

Without warning, the two
thieves rushed him. Iron spears swiped past his brown head in a
rush, but missed poorly. The man they thought was Mason grabbed one
of the spears and slammed it into the head of the smaller man who
dropped to the ground lifeless. The other man dropped his spear and
ran. The buyer picked it up. As the thief reached the corner of the
alley, a spear lodged into his back, piercing his spine. He toppled
over in the street and drunkards quickly began removing his
possessions.

The big man looked around
as if there was more work to do, but none challenged. He walked for
the wagon and began to remove the lock.

Inside the wagon, the three
had heard the fight and knew something terrible had happened. As
the lock scraped open across the door, Qenn’s heart nearly broke
free of his chest. He looked to Kandish, who nodded that it was
time. With a heavy groan, the thick door began to open.

As it did so, the lone
figure stood at its opening. Kandish’s blue eyes grew wide with
recognition and a hint of fear. She fought with urgency to hold
back the two brothers as they raced past her to attack him. She
gasped softly, “No. It’s Kamen Ode!”

Kamen Ode raised his
scarred face up to the three people in the wagon. His smile was
cruel. “Welcome to Skadar Port.”

Chapter 6

“
K
ill them all!” Queen Sienna ordered again, if only to put to
rest any further doubts of her intentions. Her normally pale
complexion was a fiery red; her long auburn hair was unkempt, swept
in a pool of anger like the lines on her face. Her large frame was
draped in the heavy fabric of her deep purple shawl which wrapped
snug around her entire body.

“
I want the Lyyn Forest to
soak in their blood. I want every single elf dead!”

Lon Ruell and his secondary
commanders sat with Ern Dwull and his choice of captains and
watched in silence as the Queen cast a beam of fury before storming
out of the meeting chamber. Kloe Datris hesitated, already scolded
once before about watching her, yet unable to leave his pledged
duties. He was Head of the Red Knights; his sole purpose was to
protect the King and Queen. But with the death of her husband,
Sienna had warned that she trusted no one, and no one was to come
in contact with her or they would be killed. Kloe Datris waited a
second further, and then followed.

The rest of the council
watched her go, and then once she was out of sight began with their
plans. Most agreed with the Queen’s demands. It was Wilt Oan,
sitting at the end of the table, who said nothing.

“
My men will be ready to
march for the Lyyn Forest by morning. We are well prepared and will
be able to withstand an all-out assault for several weeks. The Shyl
will offer us better accommodations, should we fall back.”
Commander Ern Dwull stated, unrolling a large regional map out
before him, looking only at Lon Ruell. His face was masked in
shadow as the dark room was only lit by a single lantern set at the
center of the table and his black hair went untied, hiding most of
his angered face from the others.

Lon nodded. “Archers are
preparing for departure as we speak. We will be ready by dawn as
well.”

With a sigh, he looked
around the table. “Before the King’s death, messengers were
dispatched into the Caltar Mountains and across the Spira into
Nestlor. The Cave Lords sent word back that they will take no part
in our war. They care nothing for it, and wished to be left alone.
This is no surprise. They have never taken sides in anything
before, and it was merely hope that we asked them to leave their
caves to begin with.”

Lon watched faces sadden.
“So that leaves just the Men of Cillitran. We are on our
own.”

Wilt Oan sat at the end of
the table, head sunk low, eyes on the verge of releasing the tears
held in check. He stared blankly, knowing the course of action was
beyond his control. He said nothing.

“
Oan,” Ern Dwull called out
and watched the other’s eyes lift to find his own, “I will ask you
to leave now. What takes place in this room next will have no ears
for your negotiations.” He watched Wilt begin to rise, the old
man’s sunken look not changing. “And Oan, as the Queen ordered, do
not leave the castle.”

Wilt flushed with
bitterness and hissed, “I was more a friend to Turyn Andelline than
you ever would be! His death is a tragedy on a scale that you would
know nothing of!” With that, he left the room.

“
Settled then!” Ern Dwull
rose to his feet, hovering over his map, pointing to a specific
location, others moving in closer, voices hushed in secrecy. “This
is where we will attack.”

In the hours since King
Andelline was found slain, the kingdom of Cillitran had gone mad
with bloodlust. Anyone found in the city that remotely resembled an
elf had been beaten and hung, or worse. Chaos was rapidly spreading
through Cillitran. Witch hunts were underway for the King’s
assassin, by command from the Queen, whose anger seemed to be
pouring from an endless flask.

In less than a day, things
would be much worse for Cillitran, Wilt Oan thought as he departed
the chamber where the plans of war were unfolding. His hair was on
ends, his face burdened with the look of plague. Turyn Andelline
had died because he failed to heed the warning.
If he would have just listened to me!
Wilt walked through the castle halls, through the hurried
masses, past the glares and snarls cast at him from those who knew
he opposed the war. Traitor!, some shouted. Leave!, others
insisted.

They hated me when I
protected the Elves once the Prince was missing. I’ll be dead
before dawn, now.

If Queen Sienna had not
cornered him a short while ago and threatened his life if he fled,
he would have done so instantly. But even now as he kept his eyes
low and forward, he could see the Red Knights following. They would
have orders to kill if he left. Would it even make a
difference?

He was in a bad situation,
Oan knew. War between the races would ignite in a few hours and he
could not bring peace between them. He wanted badly to speak to
Lord Estrial on the King’s death and of the killings of elves by
order of the Queen, but could not do so. That would be suspicious
and appear to be treason to his own people, regardless of his
intentions. He felt panicked, his blood pumping quicker, his feet
anxious to flee. But there was no place for him. Not only was he
trapped in the Andelline’s home, but he was also torn between
sides. His heart ached.
The Elves did not
kill Pal Rae, and they would not have killed the King! This is all
a mistake!