The King's Ring (The Netherworld Gate Book 2) (5 page)

“Why?” Seldaric asked.

Liloriel took a deep breath in and turned back to the others with a somber expression. “If the drow knew that the assassin wanted to free the other Sierri’Tai, that might have been enough for him to come out of hiding. His attack was a diversion.”

“Is it possible that any Sierri’Tai could have escaped the banishment?” Kai asked.

“No. The Netherworld Gate is sealed. Nothing can go through it from either side without it being reopened. Though, there has been one beast that came to our plane from the Netherworld just before the banishment was complete. However, that is the only known instance, and the Kruks that guard the Netherworld Gate now would have alerted the elven councils if the gate was faltering.”

“What kind of beast?” Kai asked.

Liloriel’s gaze softened slightly. “A large cat, somewhat like an oversized panther, but with magical powers as well. It is nearly immortal. It is still alive and it wanders the forests of Svatal.”

Kai stood dumbfounded.

Liloriel smiled. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t come near the cities, it keeps to the forest.”

“How can you be sure?” Kai asked.

“I can track its energy and…” she stopped midsentence and stared off into the distance behind them. “It is here,” she said. “The beast is here!” Liloriel turned and started to run toward the docks. Seldaric and Kai followed after her, but Kai stopped short, doubling over and falling to his knees.

“Kai!” Seldaric called out. The two elves turned back and went to their fallen comrade.

Kai whistled through his teeth as he pulled a bit of burnt shirt out from a wound in his chest he only now felt. Blood oozed out around a piece of wood that was stuck in his abdomen. Seldaric knelt down and inspected the wound.

“It isn’t bad. I can remove it,” Seldaric offered Kai nodded and held his breath. Seldaric pulled the large splinter, which was roughly the same diameter as a quill, out from Kai’s skin. The sharp tip was covered in blood, but it hadn’t gone very far in.

“You were lucky,” Seldaric said. “It wasn’t a direct hit.”

“He is burned on his leg as well,” Liloriel said as she bent down on Kai’s right. Kai looked over and saw a section of his pants was burned away, revealing his skin. He didn’t see any burn marks on his leg though, so he smiled.

“I’m alright,” he said confidently. “Takes more than a bit of fire to get the best of me.”

Liloriel pointed to Kai’s side.

Kai looked down to his side and saw his charred tunic. The ragged, blackened borders surrounded a patch of skin on his right side that was red and swollen. Already he could see blisters forming. Kai knew it was going to be a while before he would be fully healed. “Well,” he began. “I don’t know if you have any magic healers around, but I am still up for chasing the assassin if you are.”

Seldaric moved in to inspect the wound. “Only the first layer of skin is dead. The second layer is damaged, but it is intact,” she stated. “It will require care, but there is no magic for it.”

“Hm,” Kai said as he looked to him with narrowed eyes. “I thought we were in the company of a powerful Kook Priestess.”

Seldaric slapped Kai’s shoulder and narrowed his eyes at Kai. “It is pronounced
Kruk
, and it would be unexpectedly, even unreasonably fortuitous should she have the ability to help with this.” At this he looked questioningly to Liloriel.

Liloriel nodded with a sigh, “Very few of the priestesses I know are able to heal wounds from fire, and I am not one of them. It requires a form of magic that most cannot perform. I do know of one priestess who could help. She lives in Tantine. In the meantime, I do have something that may be of some use. Lie still,” she commanded Kai, and then pulled a hidden satchel from under her robe and started going through it. She gathered a few small bottles and arranged a neat cloth over her lap as she poured small amounts of different liquids onto the cloth.

As Seldaric inspected Kai’s wounds more closely Kai had time to fully take in the destruction around him. “He must have been a powerful wizard,” Kai noted as he looked back to the demolished house that was now reduced to a smoldering pit.

Seldaric shook his head. “No, this is just an average drow,” he corrected. “They are great with fire magic. They had become masters over fire out of necessity because of their underground dwellings. The great drow wizards require whole armies to vanquish. This was just an old drow, out for a final battle before his time expired.”

“Gods help us if they ever decided to come out in force then,” Kai said dryly. “With less magical ability, and fewer elven numbers, you wouldn’t stand a chance against the Sierri’Tai if the assassin succeeds.”

Kai flinched as something cool pressed into his stinging side.

“Relax,” Liloriel said. “It won’t heal the damage done, but it will lessen the pain. You need to get inside. You need cold compresses throughout the night. Burns continue to damage the skin over time.” She looked up to Seldaric. “Let’s get him indoors.”

“What about the fires?” Kai asked as he grit his teeth and struggled to stand.

“The guards will handle that,” Seldaric said as he draped one of Kai’s arms over his shoulders. “We’ll get you patched up right and then set out tomorrow.”

*****

Talon set his hand over the hilt of the katana again. It felt cool to the touch, and gave off the faintest vibrations as his fingers passed over the exquisitely crafted sword. He was almost sorry that he wouldn’t get a chance to use it tonight. He crept along the edge of the forest, looking to the sky and waiting for his cue to move. Unlike during the day, the forest was quiet and still now. Not even a breeze to disturb the slumbering trees. The assassin scanned the area around him constantly, searching for any sign of the patrols that were sure to be out this night.

It had been a week since he last was in Bluewater. Since then he had taken refuge with the old drow in the cave. He had learned a lot from his new friend. Now he only hoped that the drow was still in as good of fighting shape as he proclaimed to be.

Keeping an eye to the night sky, he inched his way north, staying far enough inside the tree line to remain hidden, even from elf eyes, but close enough to the fields which stretched away from the last few homes of the residential quarter that he could just make out the outer buildings of the elvish city as he made his way toward the coast. Once he reached the northernmost edge of the tree line, where the oaks and pines gave way to rocks and tall grasses, he crouched low and waited. He drew the sword out and felt a surge rush through him. Whether it was excitement caused by his progress, or perhaps a bit of the magic from the sword, he couldn’t say. All he knew was that each time he drew the blade, it became harder to replace in the scabbard. Each time the steel gleamed before his face he smiled a little more, almost as if visiting with a cherished friend, or perhaps a long-lost brother.

Eventually he placed the blade back into its cover, vowing the next time he took it out to let it drink of an enemy’s blood. A loud crackle and boom erupted over the city. Talon looked out to the west and saw the sign he was waiting for. A slurry of large fireballs rained down from the sky. Now it was time for him to make his way to the docks.

Out from the forest he ran. The fireballs crashed into the ground, shaking the very earth upon which he ran, but he didn’t slow. He knew that the spell would only give him a short window of time. He could hear the roaring of shattering buildings, elves screaming in fright and pain. Flashes of light erupted to the south, briefly illuminating his path similarly to a lightning storm.

He made his way to the docks, skirting along the water’s edge. He ducked behind a pile of crates when he spied two elf guards. With their attention temporarily stolen by the fire, Talon struck hard and fast with his blade. As the elf blood covered the katana’s steel, a purple glow ignited from the metal dragon engraved onto the base of the handle.

Talon looked down at the sword in amazement as the whole blade began to hum, and the purple hue emanated from the engraved dragon on the blade itself. The blood disappeared then, as if the blade drank it in.

“The blood of the foul Svetli’Tai is the sweetest of nectars,”
a voice said.

Talon turned, but saw no one around him.

“But who is it that wields me now?”
the voice asked.

Talon looked down to the blade. He certainly wasn’t about to answer a sword, but instinctively he knew the blade was alive. It hummed and vibrated softly in his hand. Then all at once it went dark.

The voice entered Talon’s mind.
“I am Drekk’hul, the Son of the Dragon,”
it said to him.
“I am forged from the spirit of the great black beast that ruled the Elven Isles, and I am beholden only to the king of the Sierri’Tai.”
A sharp sting pierced Talon’s hand. The assassin dropped to his knees as the pain wormed up his arm and into his whole body.
“Hold still, human,”
the blade said.
“Let me see if you are worthy.”
The pain intensified and Talon fell backward and rolled on the ground. He barely kept from crying out as the pain moved into his head, threatening to rip him apart. Then all was quiet and the pain withdrew as quickly as water falling from off his skin. Talon lay upon the ground breathing heavily and softly moaning.

“You have mixed blood,”
the blade whispered in Talon’s mind.
“But, I see that you share the same goal as I. If you prove yourself worthy, I will return and unite with you as an ally. Until then, I will slumber. Give me to drink of the blood of my foes, and perhaps we shall speak again.”

The blade stopped humming. Talon sheathed the katana and rolled over to push up to his feet. He could still feel his heart pounding in his chest and his fingers felt tingly and warm. “What in Hammenfein’s name was that?” Talon asked himself aloud. Suddenly the sky ignited again and a new round of fireballs pummeled the ground. He knew he had no time to ponder what had happened. He sprinted, resuming his journey to the docks.

He ran by the large ships, knowing there would be no way for him to sail one alone. Talon froze when he saw another elf guard running toward the city. After the elf passed he continued on. He jumped onto the docks when he saw smaller sailing vessels, roughly twenty to thirty feet in length. Each had a single sail, and he knew he could work any of them easily enough. He moved to the closest one, not wanting to waste time. He unfastened the ropes and went aboard the ship. He found it had a single door leading to a cabin below the deck. It was small, but he saw bread and fruits in a crate to one side. The crate beside it held a stock of wine bottles and some waterskins. A curtain ahead of him separated him from the rest of the cabin. He took a step forward.

“No, I am telling you that I heard something,” a soft voice said beyond the curtain.

“I said it was just a thunderstorm,” a male voice answered. “We are docked safely, don’t worry about the storm.”

“No, please, just go and check. This time it sounded like something was in the boat.”

The male sighed and an instant later something thumped onto the floor. A couple of seconds later Talon heard the snap of a lighter and then a glow emerged behind the curtain.

Talon slowly drew his blade.

The curtain was ripped aside and Talon smiled at the naked elf before him.

“Nice boat,” Talon said.

The female elf pulled the blanket up over herself and screamed in a horribly high-pitched squeal. Talon moved in and slammed the male elf to the floor with a solid kick to his abdomen. His left hand shot out and deftly caught the lamp, saving the boat from sure catastrophe had it fallen. Then he placed the tip of the katana on the elf’s throat.

“Sail me out of here, and you will live.”

The elf stared blankly back at Talon. “It’s not my boat,” he said quietly.

Talon laughed. “So the she-elf owns the boat then?” he asked.

“No, it’s my husband’s,” the female elf whimpered from the bed.

“Ah,” Talon said. “So much for the reputation of elves and all the fair folk,” Talon sniggered. He pressed the tip of the katana into the male’s neck just enough to draw a single drop of blood. “Sounds like I would be doing someone a favor by spilling your blood and taking the boat.”

“No, please, I can sail it,” the male said.

“Well, you have already stolen his wife, you may as well take the boat too,” Talon said.

The elf nodded slowly.

As the blood dripped onto the blade, the katana hummed quietly, though this time it felt as though the vibrations were only in Talon’s head.
“Kill the elf,”
the blade whispered.
“Let me drink of his blood.”

Talon started to pull the blade away.

“No, kill him!”
the sword yelled in Talon’s mind.
“The she-elf is a better sailor than he anyway.”

Talon stopped and looked to the female on the bed, still quivering behind the fur blanket. “Can you sail this boat?” he asked.

“She sails better than I,” the male elf said quickly. “Let me go, she can take you out of here.”

The she-elf stared blankly down at the naked male elf and her mouth fell open.