“How do we get to this silver elixir?” he asked Viland, who handed him a sash to wear from one shoulder to the opposite hip. It held six black vials, each corked but empty and with small handles.
“Noren will find the Poison Pond,” the wizard answered, “where the waters are the elixir. He has been there before. You are to follow his lead.”
“Poison Pond?”
Viland smiled without humor. “No one knows if it’s truly poison, but riven were found floating in it once and it was assumed they’d died from drinking the enchanted waters. I suspect they merely drowned.”
“Riven can’t swim,” Talon remarked. The diminutive species was too lazy to learn much of anything. With bodies consumed by one disease or another, it was entirely possible that their decaying flesh had poisoned the waters.
“Indeed. The question then is why would they enter the pool? The Ever Fiend is believed to sip from it and might have approached, frightening them into fleeing straight into it. We’ll never know, but don’t let the water touch you. Strange things have happened to flesh when contacted. Use the handles on the vials.” Seeing Talon looking dubious, he added, “Now you know why I need someone brave.”
“Or foolish.”
“Or that.”
Talon noticed Noren smirking condescendingly, while the swordsman sneered, the knight looked nauseated, and the woman grinned. The kryll yawned. Talon only trusted him and the knight, if anyone. And maybe the cat.
Viland strode around the grove’s edge while the others trailed along, stopping between the trees and the wall. As they watched, the wizard stretched out both hands and spoke in tones that Talon recognized. The trees began to lean sideways as a whorl of darkness filled the space between them; birds squawked furiously as they fled into the night sky. The mynx growled low in its throat and Noren said nothing to calm it, the lorenia lines on his face glowing bright blue at the magic afoot. Light seemed to disappear into the haphazardly shaped opening, as if the chaos beyond it hungered for the life around and in them. The Ever Gate looked nothing like a doorway, and its edges continued to ebb and flow as it became more substantial. Viland stopped speaking and dropped both arms to his sides.
“Quickly now,” he said, gesturing toward it as the others began shuffling forward.
Talon cocked an eyebrow, realizing that he was ignorant of things that hadn’t even occurred to him yet. “If you aren’t coming with us, how do we open it to return?”
“A spell is only needed to open it from outside. The challenge of escaping is finding the door again. Noren will do that. Only karelia can find their way.”
Talon gripped his sword harder, not caring for relying on a sorelia’s sense of direction. All karelia were excellent navigators, thanks to the goddess of intuition who had been one of their creators. But sorelia were a corrupted version of the karelian species and there was no telling how they differed. Besides, the Ever Pathways distorted everything that went into them. “What about the cat? Does it know the way back?”
Noren smirked at him for the implication that he wouldn’t survive, the blue lorenia glow reflecting in his unfriendly eyes. The sorelia turned to the Ever Gate and gazed intently as if he could see something in the blackness beyond it that the others could not. Without a word, he stepped into it with the mynx. Against his better judgment, Talon followed. As if reacting to some energy he couldn’t see, the blond hair on his arms rose as he passed through, a brief wave of severe cold rushed over him, and an acrid smell accompanied a wave of nausea. His vision went black for an instant, but that only spurred him forward, his feet coming to rest on firm turf. He paused to look around, the others joining and moving past him as if already familiar with the experience.
The Ever Gate, still open, appeared more like a doorway from this side, roughly rectangular, an edge of shimmering blackness surrounding a window of lighter darkness. Around it and in every direction lay a landscape not unlike Llurien itself, save that a twilight without end seemed to permeate the air. Mustiness filled his nostrils. Turbulent, dark clouds swirled overhead. Stands of unfamiliar trees randomly grew atop rolling hills and flat land alike, a thick forest standing some miles to one side, with steep mountain peaks farther beyond. Nearer trees blocked any other views.
Noren and the mynx advanced in parallel toward the mountains with purpose. The lorenia lines on the sorelia’s face were dimmer now, which surprised Talon, for he thought this land was so magical that the karelia’s senses would’ve been almost overloaded here.
Talon’s gaze fell on the young knight, whose chest plate bore the symbol of his rank—a sword crossed with a glowing shield. He was a Knight of the Sword, the first rank out of training, and had already earned the prestigious Knight of Coiryn honor for bravery. And yet he scanned their surroundings with troubled, fearful eyes. Talon glanced about once more only to discover that the Ever Gate had seemingly vanished. The mountains now ran behind them, too.
Seeing his startled reaction, the knight remarked, “It is of no use. We were lost within twenty paces. Only the sorelia can lead us out. Protect him with your life, for your soul depends on it.”
Talon nodded. What good were the senses if one could not trust them? Was it only his eyes that deceived him, or would his ears, too? The worst aspect of the disorientation was that he felt certain he was not, in fact, disoriented. He asked, “Why is a Knight of Coiryn working for a wizard?”
The knight frowned, scratching at two days of black stubble. “I must repay a debt, and no other reason. The name is Dal.”
“Talon. A debt for what?”
“My own affair.”
“Fair enough. You’ve been here before?”
“Once.”
“And how many times until your debt is paid?”
“I don’t know.”
Talon stifled a grunt. No man should enter into a bargain without knowing the terms. “The knighthood doesn’t know, I assume.”
Dal glanced suspiciously at him but then relaxed. “It’d be my head or my honor.”
“One as good as the other,” commented Talon, though he didn’t agree. But he knew knights believed that and wanted at least one person on his side while in this place. The knight gave him an appraising look. Talon asked, “What does Viland do with this silver elixir?”
“That I do not know, nor do I wish to.”
“What if he’s doing something the knighthood would disapprove of?”
The knight smirked. “Now you know why I don’t ask.”
Talon stifled a frown. “Ignorance won’t save you from a Solon Judge’s sentence should the truth be awful.”
Dal sighed. “I know, but I have no choice in the matter and would rather not know. Sleep is hard to come by as it is.”
Talon wondered what kept the man awake at night. Was it his conscience? He knew better than to ask personal details and instead inquired, “What can you tell me about this place?”
“Be on your guard. And there is no shame in running from that which cannot be predicted, in behavior or otherwise.” Despite his words, an expression of great bitterness swept over Dal’s rugged features.
“Have you fought anything here?”
“No.”
“Run from anything?”
This time a spark of anger lit Dal’s eyes and he appeared to choose his words carefully. “A Knight of Coiryn does not run from anything lightly, you can be sure of that.”
“I am. What did you run from?”
“Pray to Coiryn you don’t find out.”
Sensing an end to their talk, Talon wondered if the god of courage, or any of the other gods, held dominion in this place. Had they created it along with Llurien? It seemed likely, as his world and Everland were connected, but for what purpose? Maybe the gods used it to travel, but from what Talon knew, they could appear anywhere in an instant, so why would they need the paths?
Maybe the City of the Gods lay here. That would explain why getting lost was so easy, for it was said that the gods didn’t wa
nt visitors; if they wanted you, they’d appear before you. Or you’d suddenly appear before them.
Seeing the woman admiring him from the corner of her dark, mysterious eyes, Talon moved closer. “Why are you here?”
“Enchanting my blades,” she said, gripping the twin swords in their scabbards. Her curious gaze held his without flinching and he decided he liked her.
“Cold steel is all you need.”
Talon’s mother had been a valend wizard—one who creates magic items for a living—but his knight father had instilled in him the value of not relying on anything but skill to win the day. This swordswoman cut a fine figure in the black leather. Many a man had likely been nicked by one of her blades for an improper advance, but he felt undeterred.
She replied, “An advantage gained is an advantage earned.”
He nodded. “How will you do it?”
“Dip them in the Poison Pond. The silver elixir will give them powers.”
“Powers you can’t control,” he observed. “Chaos Blades, they’re called in the stories. It is foolish.”
She laughed, the sound taking an eerie tone in this disturbed land, and her mirth quickly vanished upon hearing it. “It will be foolish for anyone to cross blades with me again! The chaos will be theirs to fear, not mine.”
“So you hope.”
“And what of you?” the woman asked, eyeing his muscled physique so intently that the swordsman, who’d been observing them, scowled darkly. “Are you just a thief, or is there more to you?”
He smiled. “When I unsheathe my sword, you’ll have your answer.”
Smirking at his evasion, she said, “I enjoy a challenge.”
“Jenar Darkfire isn’t the only one who wishes to know this,” observed the kryll, falling in beside them, his smooth gait at once suggestive of relaxed ease and great might, as if the latter caused the former. Like many kryll, he gave the impression of being unconcerned by the prospect of danger—their legendary mastery of weapons was no doubt one reason for this. His leather armor differed little from Talon’s except in style and brown color. Kryll were acrobatic and preferred nimbleness to the encumbrance of heavier armor. Besides, why be struck and trust your armor to save you when you can avoid the blow altogether? He had a strong brow and straight nose typical of the species, black hair in a tight braid, red eyes regarding Talon calmly.
“Who are you, Talon the Nyborian?” the kryll asked.
Talon shrugged, noting that the kryll was as tall as he and almost as muscular, though slimmer and more refined, his agility easily apparent in the smooth walk. Talon had little interest in relating his past, for it didn’t matter. “I’m a man with a sword.”
Appraising him, the kryll asked, “Trained by kryll?”
“My father. A knight.”
“To become one? And yet you are not.”
Hearing a question he would rather not answer, Talon asked, “What brings you here?”
“I come for the elixir as well, to study it.” He nodded his head as if bowing. “Mikolyn of House Rivermoon.”
Talon nodded his understanding. Every kryll has a subject to which he devotes considerable research, becoming an expert. “Then you’re not here to study men with swords.”
Mikolyn laughed. “Indeed. May your blade fly as true as your wit, Stormbringer. We shall have need of both ere long.”
“You couldn’t find silver elixir on Llurien? Someone must have it.”
“It is illegal to possess in most places. And those with it do not admit to it, or part with it lightly, since it is so hard to acquire. Besides, how can I truly understand it if I have not seen its source?”
“There wasn’t anything less dangerous to study?”
Mikolyn smiled. “How am I to make a name for myself studying things as ordinary as men with swords?”
Talon appreciated a turn of phrase but remarked, “Everyone here wants attention. I want to avoid it.”
“Perhaps you should change your name. It is rather striking.”
“What makes you think I haven’t already?”
The kryll smiled. “We must share a drink of kryllan wine upon our return, you and I. Perhaps there’s much to learn from you after all.”
Talon was about to respond when his ears caught a dull thudding that he recognized as hooves, but there was something strangely heavy about the sound. It seemed like a single horse but somehow not, but then far away sounds traveled differently here, seeming muted or coming from the wrong direction instead of from the source. A glance at the kryll and Noren showed that they were aware of it, too. So was the mynx, its ears up. The noise grew louder and the sorelia gestured to a crop of bushes that they hurried to get behind.
Staring toward the source, Talon sensed something unnatural when two dozen horses crested a hill at a gallop and charged toward them. Black to the last, they moved in four rows of six, tightly bunched, like a military formation. Nothing could explain that, unless invisible riders were guiding them. They turned to one side in unison, then turned again moments later.
“They’re moving together,” Talon observed, “hooves landing as one.”
“That’s just wrong,” muttered the knight in distaste.
“The Ever Fiend is controlling them,” Noren explained with certainty, causing the woman to murmur in concern.
“He’s searching for us?” Jenar asked, looking around nervously.
“Not us specifically,” the sorelia replied, and the others seemed to relax.
“How do you know this?” Talon asked. That Talon knew nothing of this land except stories from his youth made him feel uncomfortably unprepared.
“Do you have a better explanation?”
Talon had to admit he did not. Part of him still did not accept that this children’s bogeyman existed, even though other things about this realm were confirmed. The horde of horses wheeled away, disappearing over another rise until the sound of their hooves faded away and the group could carry on.
The Nyborian found the swordsman striding beside him, chainmail-covered chest puffed up. A thin black mustache seemed designed to bolster his manliness while the cocky gaze had the opposite effect of making him seem weak. “The man you replaced is dead,” Orin said, amused, “in case you were wondering.”
Talon asked, “Your doing?”
The man snorted. “No. Why? Worried I’ll stick my sword in you?”
“Only if I turn my back.”
Jenar laughed and Orin turned red. “Shut your mouth, Jenar!”
“So what happened to your friend?” Talon asked, hiding his amusement.
“Wasn’t my friend, but maybe you’ll run into him here and he’ll tell you.”
“You said he’s dead.”
For an answer, Orin grinned and boasted, “Been here three times already. Doubt you’ll last that long.”
“If I have to do it with you, certainly not.”
Jenar laughed again and Orin angrily retorted, “None of my friends are brave enough to come.”
Talon observed. “Or foolish enough. You come for vanity?”
Orin scowled as if to deny it and then glared. “Don’t act like you’re better than me, Stormbringer. You got caught stealing to earn your place here.”
“Same as you? I don’t see you getting past a jhaikan, mynx, or riven.”
“I could if I wanted to! Didn’t need to.”
“Then how did you earn your place?”
When Orin didn’t answer, Noren remarked over one shoulder, “He has inclinations Viland helps him satisfy, in exchange for his aid.”
Talon cocked an eyebrow. He didn’t really want to know, didn’t care, and decided their conversation was over. The man’s demeanor stifled Talon’s temptation to ask if he knew what Viland did with the elixir, for he would likely get a boastful answer that wasn’t well informed. The sorelia was far likelier to know, though perhaps unwilling to tell. Talon quickened his pace slightly and soon fell in beside Noren and the mynx, who strode casually, suggesting
no danger neared them just now.
The sorelia looked at him shrewdly. “You have gray eyes, Nyborian.”
Talon sensed the sorelia was suggesting something. Those damn karelia saw too many things. “What of it?”
“You have a karelian ancestor.”
He failed to hide a surprised reaction that Noren had figured that out. He had learned on the streets that eyes can betray a man, just not in this particular way. Someone on his mother’s side had been karelian. “How you can tell that?”
“Humans are most often brown-eyed. Most karelia are green. Gray eyes can appear to be green and in a human it’s one indication of a potential karelian ancestor.”
“Potential,” Talon stressed. “The Iris Myth is kerr shit.”
Each of the seven groups of gods associates itself with a color in the spectrum, and since each group created a species, their species usually has that color eyes. The traits of the gods also dominate that species’ outlook. Since all seven groups created humans together, mixing their traits, the colors mixed, too, causing most humans to have brown eyes – and a temperament far more variable than any other species. Since humans are forever trying to decide what each other is really like, and often resort to superficial means of assessing another human’s character, the Iris Myth was born. Any human without brown eyes is thought to have another species as an ancestor, and since each species is associated with certain character traits, that suggests which traits dominate the human, too.
Talon added, “Gray eyes can also appear blue, which would suggest I had a jhaikan ancestor instead. Boys used to taunt me with that as a youth, but no one ever said it to me twice.”
Noren grinned. “Why? Did you assault them?
“Something like that,” he admitted.
“Do you see nothing amusing about this, considering the gods of wrath, cruelty, cunning, and domination created jhaikan?”
The Ever Fiend (Talon Stormbringer Book 1) Page 2
