Promise of Wrath (The Hellequin Chronicles Book 6)

by Steve McHugh

  A wooden cart, littered with weapons ranging from swords to spears and daggers to maces, seemed to hold something to suit every style of killing. All of them were made from dwarven steel, and marked with runes.

  “So, what’s so good about these, then?” Kasey whispered to me.

  “Dwarven steel is said to be unbreakable,” I told her. “It doesn’t dull; it doesn’t break, And the only armor that can withstand it is dwarven, and even then not for long.”

  “That’s not quite true,” Jinayca said. “Elven weapons and armor are just as well-made, just as dangerous. They use magic to temper their steel; we use alchemy. Some of ours also contain runes that allow sorcerers and elementals to wield their power through the blade.”

  “I don’t really need any,” Kasey said. “Werewolf.”

  Diane grabbed a pair of dwarven knives and passed them to her. “Don’t argue. Claws work wonders, until they don’t.” Diane picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows, holding them gently, as if she might break them.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I was given a set like this, a long time ago,” she told me, “from a dwarven king. I’ve missed it since being here.”

  Once everyone had selected their weapons they all wandered back into the building, leaving me alone with Remy, who was currently giggling about the fact that he had picked up a small sword and twin daggers that sat on a belt around his waist.

  “You done?” I asked him.

  “I have wanted dwarven steel since as far back as I can remember it existing. It’s my holy grail of swords. I would quite literally live here—you know, apart from the never-being-able-to-leave-and-constant-fear-of-death thing.”

  “Yeah, apart from that.”

  “Oh, and the lack of sunlight, or moonlight, or anything but rock. When we leave here, I’m going to be really happy if I never have to go underground again.”

  I looked in the cart and saw a few daggers, and a nice-looking spear, but I didn’t want anything too bulky. I picked up one of the daggers and tried it for weight. It felt good: a solid, but well-balanced weapon.

  “I have something else for you,” Jinayca told me. She pulled out a black-cloth-wrapped object from under the cart. She passed it to me, and I removed the cloth, revealing two swords of equal design and length. I admired the intricate work that had been completed on the scabbards and hilts. The reds and blacks were not something you usually saw in dwarven weaponry.

  “What are these?” I asked, removing one of the swords from its scabbard and testing the blade. It was stunning, and the dark-gray color of it shimmered slightly as I moved it around. It was a one-handed, double-edged, sword about the length of a gladius, but more like a claymore in appearance: essentially a one-handed smaller version of the human sword. I’d never really seen anything quite like it.

  “They were made for Zamek,” she said. “These are the swords of a prince.”

  I replaced the blade in the scabbard and passed it back to Jinayca. “I can’t accept this. It’s Zamek’s.”

  “He wants you to have them, although he doesn’t want to give them to you himself. Something to do with people seeing a prince carrying those swords about. I think he’s worried it would give the wrong impression.” She handed it back to me.

  “I don’t know what to say. They’re stunning weapons.”

  “If you don’t want them, I’ll take them,” Remy said from beside me.

  Jinayca passed me a back scabbard to carry the swords, which I quickly put on, placing the two swords in the slots designed for them. It was surprisingly comfortable, and I hadn’t really expected that.

  “The back scabbard was made especially for you,” Jinayca told me, apparently sensing my surprise. “Zamek requested it be made once you returned from your time in the machine. And our people work fast when needed.”

  “I still don’t understand why,” I explained.

  “That’s for Zamek to tell you. I know no more than I’ve said.”

  I looked down at Remy. “So, you ready to go pick a fight on our terms?”

  Remy’s smile bared all of his teeth, making him look more ferocious than he probably anticipated. “I’ve been waiting since the moment we landed in the godforsaken realm.” He turned to Jinayca. “No offense.”

  Jinayca laughed, and waved away Remy’s badly timed outburst. “When you are ready, Zamek and his people will meet you at the city gates. I wish you luck—all of you. But be careful. I do not wish to have to mourn the loss of even more people.”

  Diane left the building and stood beside me. “Yeah, I’m pretty certain the blood elves aren’t going to know what hit them.”

  CHAPTER 28

  There’s going to be no fighting if we can help it,” Zamek said as he prepared us for the march through blood-elf territory to the library.

  It had been only an hour since the meeting had finished and we’d all filed out of the elders’ building, but it felt a lot longer. I was eager to get going, but Zamek wanted to walk us through the pitfalls and perils of what we’d be facing. It might have been necessary, but it sure wasn’t something I wanted to hear.

  Irkalla, Remy, Diane, and I listened as Zamek explained that we would be going closer to the elf-occupied territory. Any fighting would need to be done quickly and efficiently: no messing about, no giving the elves time to escape or regroup. Kill and move on.

  Zamek had brought three dwarves with him; two I recognized from when we’d met during the fight with William, and both were male, called Birik and Malib. The third was a relative of the dwarf who’d been killed during the fight, and her name was Udthulo. She was slightly shorter than the other dwarves, but had tattoos all over her face, something I’d seen on a few dwarves in the city.

  Once the introductions were out of the way, the massive gates to the city were opened and the eight of us were allowed out into the rest of the mountain. The gates closed shut behind us, and I spotted several dwarves atop the battlements watching us as we walked away from the safety of the city. I did a double take when I noticed that Mordred was up there, waiting for a battle that was sure to come. I just hoped we’d be back in time before the blood elves attacked.

  Talking was kept to a bare minimum as Zamek led us through abandoned parts of the mountain. We met the occasional blood-elf patrol, which was quickly dispatched before we continued on.

  Udthulo was the quietest of the four dwarves and appeared to be the most keen in battle. The blood elves we found quickly met her double-headed battle-ax, and more than once I thought I saw a smile on her face as she dispatched her enemies with ruthless efficiently.

  “She scares me,” Remy said as we all sat to take a break, eating some of the delicious meats and fruits the dwarves had prepared. We found ourselves in a small building; the interior had been gutted long ago, leaving only broken wood and stone among the dust and dirt.

  Zamek, who sat beside Remy, laughed. “She is very passionate in her duty.”

  “And what duty is that?” Diane asked. “I assume it’s something to do with those red face tattoos.”

  Zamek nodded. “After her mother’s death, Udthulo pledged her life to end as many blood elves as she can. It’s called the cleansing. A relation of someone who has died chooses to go out and search for vengeance. If she can find the person who killed her mother, then she will be immediately cleansed. Otherwise, she’ll need to keep killing her enemies for however long she pledged. The end result is either she will die, or her targets will; either way her deeds bring much greatness to her family. They’ll be given a seat of power in the elders’ chambers, and will become quite wealthy. A lot of families take it as a chance to start afresh. If Udthulo makes it back, she’ll be a hero.”

  “I saw a few people in Sanctuary with similar face markings,” I said.

  “They will be the few who completed their task and returned. They are revered by our people. Songs are sung about them, tales are told; their deeds will be remembered down the ages.”

  �
��And some dwarves are just crazy and want to kill things,” Birik said, and he laughed so hard that it turned into a weird choking noise. Malib had to slap him on the back to help him—immediately after which, they both began laughing.

  “How much further?” Irkalla asked.

  “A few hours,” Zamek told us. “This is the last place we’ll be able to rest. After this the elves get more numerous, and more dangerous.”

  “So the elves we’ve been fighting haven’t been dangerous?” Remy asked. “That’s good to know.”

  Zamek smiled. “They send their young and inexperienced out to fight in the areas they know dwarves inhabit. It’s to test themselves. Either they kill a dwarf—or something equally valuable, like a troll—or they get killed, and no one mourns them. Blood elves care little for emotion.”

  “And once these were your friends?” Remy asked.

  “A long time ago, yes. We welcomed the shadow elves here.”

  Udthulo re-entered the shop, and whispered, “Patrol. Eight elves, coming up this way. One’s a commander.”

  I remembered the last commander I’d seen, and had little interest in getting any closer to one without the full use of my magic.

  “I saw one earlier,” I whispered as we hid ourselves by the window, glancing out into the dark street before us.

  “They are exceptionally dangerous,” Zamek said. “I don’t know how the blood elves get them so big, but something sets them apart from normal elves.”

  As if on cue, the sound of marching feet drifted toward the shop, carrying with it an energy of dread.

  “Do we go or stay?” Udthulo asked.

  “Stay,” Zamek commanded. “The library is not far, but there are many elves between here and there. Let’s not draw attention to ourselves. We don’t need to fight every elven patrol we come across.”

  Udthulo nodded, and although she was clearly unhappy about the decision, she went back to looking out of the window.

  The elves marched by us, only ten feet from where we were hiding. We had our weapons at the ready, but remained silent and still. The smell of blood and death lingered even once they were gone.

  The commander was several dozen feet behind the rest of the group, pushing a blood elf along. The elf was either injured or exhausted, and couldn’t keep up with his brethren, so had slipped behind. The commander took a swipe at the elf, who hurried his pace, tripped and fell.

  “Useless!” the commander shouted. He wasn’t the same blood elf Mordred and I had seen earlier; this one was slightly broader and had dozens of scars all across his bare chest and stomach. Some looked to have been made from weapons, and some from a claw of an animal. Whatever had caused the scar across his stomach could have disemboweled him. The commander had been fortunate to live.

  He kicked the wounded blood elf over onto his back, then stomped, punched, and kicked him to death in the middle of the street. When he was done, he drove his saber into the throat of the blood elf. The commander removed the blade, stepped over the corpse, and left it there to bleed out. The blood elves who’d marched on stopped and cheered for their commander as he rejoined them.

  “Apparently, blood elves take their marching seriously,” Remy said, when the street was once again devoid of life. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “The commanders are there to instill discipline,” Udthulo told us. “That’s almost their entire role. If someone is flagging behind because they’re injured, they’re eliminated. It’s for the betterment of the rest of the group.”

  We left the building and sprinted to the other side of the street, taking refuge in the alleys that crisscrossed the entire area. We ran into four more patrols on the way to the library but were fortunate enough to escape detection. We only had to fight twice more, and both times we had superior numbers and the advantage of surprise.

  “I thought there would be more elves,” Irkalla said.

  “Yeah, a lot more,” Diane agreed. “What gives?”

  “I don’t know,” Zamek said looking to his dwarven subordinates for explanation. They shrugged, just as clueless. “Something has to be happening. There should be more patrols, more lookouts. We’re close to the library, and I can’t imagine the elves making things easy for us. Besides, if this way is so clear, why didn’t those in the library leave? Something feels wrong.”

  A few hours later, we came to a low, crumbling wall. I peered over the top and immediately moved back.

  “You okay?” Remy asked.

  “Don’t like heights,” I told him. “That’s a shocker.”

  Remy looked over the wall and turned back to me. “Well, that’s unexpected.”

  Beyond the wall was a sheer drop hundreds of feet into the darkness below. A huge chasm just a few feet away from us stretched as far as I could see. A few hundred feet to the left of where we were and about thirty feet up was a large stone bridge that stretched several hundred feet over the chasm.

  “How do we get over that bridge?” Diane asked.

  “Good question,” Irkalla said. “I assume any blood elves on it will probably notice us when we walk past them.”

  “We’re not going to,” Zamek told us. “There’s a pathway that goes down and around the side of the cliff just below us. It leads to the supports under the bridge. We can walk across the supports to get to the other side.”

  “There’s no other way?” Remy asked. “Like a catapult, for example? Because I’d probably prefer that.”

  “There used to be a higher tunnel far to the north that cut through the mountain, going around the bridge, but it was blocked when most of Brigg’s people escaped. The library is over that bridge. And the bridge is now our only way in—unless you want to wait a few weeks while we dig out the tunnel, attracting every blood elf in a dozen miles to our location?”

  “I’d rather do that,” Remy said. “Seriously, give me a spade.”

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said, really not enthusiastic about making this climb.

  Zamek and his dwarves had to use their alchemy to reveal the path, quickly pushing aside the rocks that hid it from view. More than once I thought the sound of rocks being moved around would make someone come investigate, but it was soon over, and the path down to the bridge was revealed.

  Alchemists can change one thing into something else so long as they’re touching the object they’re manipulating, and what they want to change has the same components as the original material. So a rock can become a set of stairs or a shield, but it can’t turn into a moving tank with a missile launcher, which would be a lot more useful.

  Despite the fact that we all had abilities that allowed us to see in near pitch-darkness, the journey down the path went slowly. We had to go quietly or else the blood elves would have heard the sound of us sprinting down the path, and surprise was pretty much our only advantage.

  When we reached the end of the path, I looked up at the bridge’s underside. There were thin mesh walkways along either side and a crisscrossing of metal floor beams that ran up the center. Posts sat every few dozen feet, with handholds easily visible on them. It didn’t exactly look like it would be a barrel of laughs, but it looked sturdy, and so long as I didn’t look down—or think about looking down, or think about anything involving heights—I should be okay. You weren’t going to get a second chance with it.

  “How do we do this?” Remy asked.

  Zamek motioned with his hands. “Straight up either side. The side columns have enough space for a dwarf to step around with ease, so it should be okay for you lot. We take it slow and easy. Make a mistake and you’re done.”

  While it was nice to have someone agree with my mental assessment of this death trap, I could have done with a slightly more upbeat talk.

  The metal frame of the bridge was easy to climb for the first few struts, although it got considerably more difficult the further up we went, as the incline became steeper and steeper, until the only way to continue on was to get on all fours and climb like a chimpanze
e.

  By the time I’d almost reached the halfway point, I was hot, sticky, and liked Remy’s catapult idea better than my current position. When I made it to the halfway mark, I took a deep breath. The way down was steep, and probably more dangerous than the way up, but at least there was light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

  “How are you doing?” Remy asked from the strut behind me. “Because this sucks a monstrous amount of ass.”

  “Let’s just get it finished.”

  “Wait,” Diane almost growled from the strut in front of me. She lifted the bow from her back and notched an arrow. She remained that way for several seconds, her arm never wavering, until she released the arrow. “Elf down.”

  I half expected her to have to deal with several more of the elves before we’d reached the other side, but I needn’t have been concerned. We made it, sweaty and less than thrilled about the journey, but we made it.

  “If we have to do that again on the way back,” Remy said, ruining my good mood, “I may just move into the library and live there.”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” Zamek told us. “We need to go up this side of the chasm and around a corner at the top. We should be out of sight of the elves for most of the ascent, but it’s still dangerous.”

  “What happens at the top?” Irkalla asked.

  “There’s an old tunnel up there, long abandoned, but it’ll take us up above the library. Once we’ve found the right path, we can just move the rock around and drop onto the top of the library. Any questions?”

  No one asked anything more, and we were soon climbing the thin walkway up the side of the chasm. There were a few times when we had to wait behind an overhang or be spotted by the elves. We reached the peak pretty quickly, and hurried across the exposed area to an alcove.

  “Where’s the tunnel?” I whispered.

  Zamek ignored me and began searching the alcove.

  “You know if they decide to come this way, we have no means to escape,” Remy pointed out.