The King's Ring (The Netherworld Gate Book 2) (21 page)

“More bandits?” Kai asked.

Seldaric shook his head and drew his scimitar out, then he laid it upon the ground and backed away with his hands out to his sides. “The patrol,” he said. “Place your weapon on the ground.”

“We could run,” Kai suggested.

Seldaric shot Kai a disbelieving look.

“You could run,” Kai said, correcting himself.

Seldaric shook his head. “Even I could not lose them now. They know these forests, and would easily track me. If I run, it will be worse.”

Kai nodded and undid his sword belt with his right hand. He unceremoniously dropped the weapon to the ground and backed away from it, following Seldaric’s example.

“They won’t kill us,” Seldaric said. “They will arrest us.”

“Excellent,” Kai commented.

The patrol closed in with blinding speed.

“We will be taken to Telshir, and then stand before the council.”

Kai sighed and then tensed his body moments before an armored elf tackled him to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Jaleal asked as he walked over to the cauldron and sniffed at the odoriferous sludge Phinean was cooking.

“This will aid us greatly. I have a recipe that will turn me into a large bear.”

“A bear?” Jaleal asked. He arched a brow and cocked his head at Phinean. “You’re going to turn yourself into a bear?”

Phinean nodded confidently. “I am not a warrior like you. So, if the plan fails and the Goresym doesn’t work, then I will need to be ready to fight.”

“A bear?” Jaleal repeated.

Phinean looked up and shewed Jaleal away with the back of his left hand. “Go on and settle in upstairs if you can’t be useful here.”

Jaleal shrugged. “You forgot the part that I don’t know how the Goresym works,” he said. “I told you before, I didn’t see Erik use it.”

Phinean wrinkled his nose and nodded. “So, give it your best attempt and then have your spear handy. I will be outside in the trees. If it comes to a fight, I will be quick to come in.” Phinean stopped stirring the pot and stood up as he stretched his lower back out and groaned. “Just, go upstairs and think about how to use the Goresym, maybe it will come to you.”

Jaleal turned and walked up the stairs. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Jaleal muttered under his breath. “All I had to do is just look at the stone and it will magically tell me how to use it.” He shook his head and slipped into a false panel in the wall that overlooked the upper room. He pulled the stone out and stared at it as he turned it over in his hand. None of the faces were cut evenly. The blue stone had a very rugged appearance. If not for the fact that Jaleal knew Erik had used it, he would have thought it was simply a large gem. “Alright, so I am looking at you and thinking. So are you going to show me what to do now?” Jaleal waited for a few seconds and then he laughed at himself. “Look at me, talking to a rock.”

The warrior gnome set his spear beside him. He had a feeling that the day was going to end in a fight.

He waited for an hour or so before Phinean came up to him, smiling wildly and holding a glass bottle in his hand that was filled with a greenish sludge that smelled like the back end of a wet dog. Phinean opened up the false panel.

“Phinean, shouldn’t you be out front?” Jaleal asked.

Phinean nodded. “I am going, but I wanted to show you the potion. Look at it!” Phinean held it up in front of Jaleal, but the warrior gnome pushed it gently back to Phinean.

“Smells horrid.”

Phinean frowned. “Well it isn’t a perfume,” Phinean replied. “It’s a potion that will turn me into a mighty bear.”

“Will you think like a bear too?” Jaleal asked. “If so, then you should drink it outside, after you close the door.”

“Nonsense,” Phinean said. “It will adjust my shape and strength only. It will not alter my mind nor my demeanor.”

“So I will have a scatterbrained bear to deal with as well as an assassin eh?” Jaleal quipped.

“What do you mean?” Phinean asked as he glanced from the bottle to Jaleal.

Jaleal shrugged and shook his head. “Never mind. Best of luck to you. Now, if you don’t mind, I am trying to hide. Remember, you said he could be arriving today.”

“Quite right!” Phinean said. The older gnome helped Jaleal replace the false panel into the wall and then moved a couple steps away. “Bottoms up!” Phinean said happily as he set the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back. The contents slid down the glass and into the gnome with a slight hissing sound. Phinean gagged and wiped his mouth after he finished.

Jaleal could hear a strong rumbling work through Phinean’s stomach. The gnome doubled over, apparently about to vomit and then he stood totally erect, rigid as a board. His face grew brown fur. Phinean smiled. “It’s working!” Phinean shouted as his body twisted and contorted into different shapes. Jaleal gripped his spear. He held no ill will toward Phinean, but he was not about to get devoured by a bear in case Phinean did in fact lose his mind.

He needn’t have worried.

Along with the brown fur on the gnome’s face, a pair of long, floppy ears grew out from his head. Phinean scrunched his brow together and lifted his hands to his head, feeling the long, fuzzy ears.

“Oh, now that’s not right,” Phinean said.

A puff of smoke shrouded the gnome for a second. Something thumped onto the floor. Jaleal gripped his spear tight, waiting for the form to be revealed from within the smoke.

“No, no, no!” Phinean shouted in a peculiarly high pitch. “This isn’t right at all!”

The smoke swirled and out hopped a large, brown hare.

Jaleal couldn’t contain himself. The warrior gnome burst out laughing and nearly started crying when he saw it.

“Laugh if you will, but it’s still an effective disguise,” Phinean said. The hare twitched its nose and hopped down toward the stairs while Jaleal continued to laugh for several minutes after Phinean was gone.

*****

This is it, Talon thought to himself. He looked down to the note whereupon Governor Gandle had scrawled the name of three relics needed to open the Netherworld Gate and free the Sierri’Tai from their imprisonment. Under the names were the locations of each relic. Talon rubbed his thumb across the second line, where it listed this precise tower as the location of the King’s Ring.

Talon smiled as he thought of the Sierri’Tai army. There were likely hundreds, possibly thousands, of Sierri’Tai warriors waiting to be released. If Talon succeeded in opening the Netherworld Gate, they would swear loyalty to him. Then he would have the power to take his revenge.

Since arriving on Selemet a few days before, Talon had imagined many times how he would kill Basei, the god of war. The feeling he experienced as he thought of that goal coming closer within his reach was almost indescribable. It was the ecstasy that compelled him forward on his quest.

Soon he would have the King’s Ring. After that there was only one more relic to find, as he had already taken the Tomni’Tai scroll from Jahre in Medlas. Then, after the Netherworld Gate was opened, he would lead his army to Basei’s door and take the demigod down. Perhaps then the nightmares and images of his mother, who had been killed by Basei after praying to him for help, would stop tormenting him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find peace for his soul after his mother’s murder was avenged.

He folded the paper nicely and stuffed it deep down into his left boot. He stood at the base of a large, dark stone tower. Ivy had grown over most of the lower half of the tower and some of it had ascended all the way to the top where a lone window promised to offer a nice view of the realm. Talon slipped his left hand into his satchel and stroked the Scroll of the Tomni’Tai. A surge of energy rushed into his body as he felt closer to accomplishing his goal.

Jahre had not held all of the relics in his old tower, but then Talon had not expected that. He had only expected to find the scroll in possession of the old sage. And right he was. The other relics were scattered to keep them safe. All three items were needed to release the Drow, the assassin knew, without any one of them it would be impossible to complete the task. Talon was not worried about it though. Thanks to the information he had taken from Raimus and Governor Gandle, he knew where to find each of the three items.

The King’s Ring, which had belonged to the human king who had fought Lemork, was finally within Talon’s grasp. Talon sniggered as he remembered Governor Gandle’s expression when he had killed him. The old fool never saw it coming. Talon smiled. It was almost too easy. According to the information, there was only a single, elderly elf in this abandoned tower guarding the ring. This wouldn’t even be a fight. It would be child’s-play.

Talon walked towards the tower’s door, a large, old, oaken mass with a black iron ring to open it. The assassin gently pushed the door, expecting to find it locked, but the heavy slab of wood easily swung away from his fingers. The tiny hairs on the back of Talon’s neck started to rise. He froze instantly, his right hand reached for his scimitar and he strained his ears to listen for any movement. A small rustling sound came from the trees to Talon’s left. Without turning his head Talon focused his eyes to the left to see what was there. He eased considerably when a large hare came bounding out of the underbrush.

“Stupid rabbit,” he said. “If you are still here when I get back, you will be my supper,” Talon promised.

The hare twitched its nose and then leapt back into the bushes, disappearing into the forest.

“Smart rabbit,” Talon said.

Talon turned and entered the tower. An intense, musty odor assaulted Talon’s nostrils as he climbed the set of stairs to the main floor. The place reeked from the dung of mice and old, rotten grains. Mold dotted the few wooden chairs scattered throughout the room. It appeared as if no person had been here in hundreds of years, except for the odd smell that lingered on the air and seemed to be coming from a cauldron over a fresh mound of embers. Talon moved to it and held his hand out. The cauldron was still warm, but it was empty. Either someone was home, or he had perhaps just missed him.

Without wasting any more time the assassin silently climbed the stairs that spiraled along the far wall and led to the top room of the tower. Talon found the door locked, but it didn’t take him more than a few seconds to pick the lock and push the door open. He leaned in slowly, peering around the room. As he had thought, this room was still being used. It smelled of pine and cinnamon, and it was immaculately clean. There was a small, well-made bed with a red coverlet draped over it at the far end of the room. A couple of small writing desks stood in the chamber, one near the doorway, and the other near a window. Two large wardrobes were placed close to the far wall, but the assassin did not see any elf. Talon swung the door completely open and entered the room. He took a couple of steps toward the center of the room, his hand hovering over the hilt of Drekk’hul. After a moment, he realized that no one else occupied the room with him. He was completely alone.

Talon cursed silently and started to search the room. Talon inspected the small desk near the window and found a journal. He opened it tentatively and read a few excerpts. Nothing seemed all that important. The elf who wrote in the journal used Common Tongue and wrote of the weather, of the forest, and a few poems. Nothing was mentioned about the King’s Ring, or the drow, or any other elf for that matter. It appeared as if Talon had simply blundered into the home of a lone hermit. He continued to search through the desk and found nothing. Talon tapped his right fist on the desk, checking for secret compartments, but he found none.

“Where have you put it?” Talon asked aloud as he looked about the small room. Talon glanced out the window to the road below. He smiled when he saw the hare had returned and was sitting where he had first seen him. “I will come for you in a minute, my little friend,” Talon assured the rabbit.

He walked over to the wooden bureaus and opened them both. The first was entirely empty. He knocked around its walls, but again he found no secret compartments hidden inside. He then turned to the second wardrobe. He found two tunics, one of them tan, and the other was green. Talon slid his hand over the surface of the wood on the inside, feeling for anything that might give away a secret compartment, but there was nothing. Next he opened the drawer at the bottom of the bureau. Inside he found random clothes, but as he rummaged through them he found a small envelope with a letter inside. He opened it.

“Taish, the language of the elves,” Talon growled as he saw that the writing was written in a foreign tongue. He had no way of understanding what was written. He slammed the paper down, frustrated. He glanced back to the journal at the desk. It had been written in Common Tongue.

“If this elf writes his journal in the Common Tongue, then why would someone send him a letter in Taish?” Talon asked aloud. He squatted down and picked up the parchment again. Talon scrutinized the writing on the letter more carefully, looking for any indication of where it had come from. Still he could not make out anything of use. He dropped it again and opened the second drawer. Inside were a few knives and a large bow, as well as another letter. He picked up the letter and opened it. This one was written in Common Tongue. It was apparently from Jahre, as it bore the old elf’s name at the bottom. Talon sniggered as he read the letter which instructed Elroa, presumably the elf who resided within the tower, how to hide the ring inside of the table, inside of the single wooden column which supported the table-top.

Talon eagerly jumped over to the table and grabbed one end of it as if to rip off the top, but then his instincts got the better of him. He had been living among the shadows long enough to smell a trap. It clicked for him. The journal and the letter from Jahre were both written in Common Tongue to throw any would-be thieves off. Talon picked up a chair, placed himself four feet away from the table, and swung the chair up under the table top, slamming into the table with enough force to break the top from the base. Talon then dropped the chair and backed off, expecting some sort of trap to spring.

Nothing happened.

Talon cautiously walked back to the column and kicked it over so that the hole in the top would face the wall. No sooner had he done so than three darts fired from the hole and glanced off of the tower’s stone wall. A cloud of brown smoke snaked out of the opening and licked the marks on the stone where the darts had struck.