Behind them, Olin snorted.
Noren continued, “If it’s wrong, then why do most karelia have green eyes like the four gods who created them? Or jhaikan blue like their gods?”
“My gray eyes don’t mean I have a jhaikan ancestor, any more than your blue eyes do.”
“We sorelia are an accident of mischief, and so our irises are more random in color, like you humans.”
“Random,” Talon stressed.
Noren smiled at Talon without friendliness. “Do your eyes see things other humans don’t?”
“No,” he lied, then changed the subject. “You seem in league with this wizard. What does he do with this elixir?”
“You must get it regardless, Stormbringer.”
Talon sensed the sorelia understood his intent to refuse this quest depending on what he learned. Those damn karelia were too smart sometimes. He decided not to pretend that Noren was wrong, and replied, “I prefer a clear conscience.”
“Strange, for a thief.”
He let that pass. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“You can ask him yourself.”
“He’s unlikely to tell me.”
“And you think I’m more likely?”
“No, it’s just that you’re with me at the moment. Is the answer so terrible that you fear to tell, or are you afraid of what I’ll do with the knowledge?”
Noren smiled. “No on both counts. I fear little, and certainly not just a man with a sword, however impressive he may appear. And what could you do? Viland is respected. You are not.”
Apparently sorelia lacked karelian tact, but Talon wasn’t one for hurt feelings. He sensed no answers were coming and decided to ask the wizard before handing over the vials. He changed the subject again. “What do you gain from all this?”
“Access to this land. Unguarded Ever Gates are hard to find.”
Wondering how awful the answer would be, Talon asked, “What does a sorelia want here?”
Noren gave his first unreserved smile. “Nyborian, where some see horrors, others see treasures unimaginable, and that is what I’ve come for. I have the same deal with the wizard as you. I keep whatever I find, and since the pathways keep changing, the path I tread is never the same twice. It always brings me something new, no matter how many times I walk it.”
“And how many times is that?” For an answer, Talon received only a smile. “What do you do with the things you find?”
Noren looked away with a smirk. “Sell or give them to the unsuspecting. Weapons are seldom fun for that, as they don’t inflict something on the wielder. But anything that can be worn, like magical armor, is typically cursed. And the wearer often cannot remove it.”
Talon glowered. This sorelia was the evil one, it seemed, not the wizard. Or maybe Noren was just worse. Stopping him from returning cursed items might be more important than returning without the elixir. “Why do this to people? For the sake of evil?”
“Perhaps. Maybe I have a different sense of justice than you.”
“Undoubtedly. How is it justice to sell cursed items to unsuspecting people?”
“Those who seek an advantage over others through magic ought to pay the price for their ambition.”
Thinking of Jenar, Talon glanced back to see her scowling intensely at the sorelia, who seemed to know it as if he had eyes in the back of his head, for the way he grinned. “What of your wizard?” Talon asked. “He seeks advantage through this elixir.”
“He will destroy himself sooner or later, probably with it.”
“You care nothing for him.”
“I’m sorelian. And he is not a friend, just a business partner. I’m sure you understand.”
Talon did indeed and wanted to put his sword through the sorelia’s heart-shaped face. “You’ve kept nothing you’ve found here? Not even one thing?”
“I never said that.”
“What was it?”
The karelia gazed at him as if trying to decide how much impact a revelation could have. “The sword,” Noren admitted, hand on the hilt.
“What does it do?”
“Pray you never find out from me swinging it at you.”
Normally Talon ignored such warnings but a Chaos Blade was not something to face knowingly. If the stories were true, one didn’t have to strike you to wreak havoc of unnatural kinds.
The group continued in silence, scanning for trouble as they skirted forests at a distance. Woods offered a place to hide but might be the place from where a threat emerged. Even the plants were a danger, as they moved as if controlled by a mind. One tree held a humanoid skeleton it seemed to be playing with. An entire grove briefly marched along the horizon like a herd of animals before disappearing toward some unseen goal.
Some grass fields they trod had clearly been grazed by something, while others were tall and showed signs of recent passage by someone. In one instance, Noren indicated the tracks were their own; they had not lost their way, but the landscape had shifted as if sections of land floated like islands on an unseen sea. Even distinctive mountains changed location, suggesting that the land masses rotated, too.
Talon couldn’t understand how Noren knew where they were going. When asked, the sorelia admitted that his gods-given sixth sense allowed him to feel where the Poison Pond was, no matter what happened. It explained why he sometimes changed direction abruptly. Though a sorelia couldn’t be trusted, they had no choice. The feeling of vulnerability that this introduced rankled Talon.
That feeling worsened when they reached an uncovered, dark stone bridge that spanned a river of black water a hundred yards wide. Three boats with paddles were moored to each side and, a short distance away, the waters emptied into a wide expanse that Noren called the Lake of Souls. Talon, Noren, and the mynx took the lead, with Dal and Mikolyn on rear guard while Jenar and Orin took the middle. The span showed signs of being ancient and unfamiliar in some way Talon couldn’t place. The low walls had crumbled in places, archaic words and symbols appearing there at even intervals, some resembling magic words and others indecipherable.
“What do the words say?” the knight asked, booted feet thudding on the bridge.
“Don’t read them aloud,” cautioned Noren, eyes stern.
“Why?” Talon asked, curious what would happen but not interested in finding out the hard way. He supposed that he did trust the sorelia with certain things.
“If you have talent for magic,” Noren replied, “there’s no telling what might happen.”
Mockingly, Jenar said, “Then I guess I shouldn’t read them.”
Talon arched an eyebrow. “You have the gift?”
“If you want to call it that. Never cared for the studying, so talent is all I have. No skill.”
Noren eyed her dismissively. “You come here for power and yet refuse to master that which you were born with. Fool.”
She bristled until Talon laid a hand on her arm. “Ignore him. I know some of these words but not the others.”
Jenar asked, “You have the talent, too?”
He nodded. Like most people with the gift of magic, he knew valenders—beginner spells to help get by in life and which generally acted on objects, not people. He didn’t use them often, but some had proven invaluable more than once. “I prefer the sword.”
“Another fool.” Noren looked about to say more when the mynx’s ears shot forward and the cat put both front paws on a wall to raise himself higher. He stared intently in the direction they were going and growled low. “Jhaikan,” Noren announced, as if recognizing the cat’s tone. Talon knew the cats were trained to give different vocalizations. “Quickly, we must hide.”
Chapter 3 – The Shadown Riders
Talon drew his kryllan sword. “We’ll engage here. The bridge is only wide enough for three to fight, which favors us.” They might not get off in time to hide, which he didn’t care much for anyway.
“There.” Mikolyn pointed to half a dozen figures that emerged from behind a copse, running in
their direction. He began swinging his nine-foot staff of Siaran oak in a twirling blur, the foot-long, steel endcaps whistling as his hands expertly moved between three leather-wrapped grips spaced inches apart. The jhaikan-staff resembled normal quarterstaffs with two exceptions—it could be dismantled into smaller pieces for travel and then reassembled, and, with a spoken word, the wielder could make blades protrude from either end like a spear or scythe. Mikolyn did this now to one end, giving himself slicing death there and bludgeoning power on the other side.
They outnumbered the jhaikan by one due to the battle mynx. A lone jhaikan could easily kill a half dozen normal opponents like Jenar or Orin, but with himself, a kryll, the mynx, and Noren, they stood a good chance. After a glance back, as if searching for a hiding place, Noren seemed to agree, issuing a command to the cat, who moved ahead of them to stand guard.
Talon strode to the bridge’s apex and motioned for the kryll and sorelia to flank him, which they did. The knight grumbled that he should take Talon’s place, but the Nyborian’s commanding demeanor silenced him. Dal pulled a long sword from a scabbard and stood between Jenar, her twin swords ready, and the worried-looking Orin.
“Is there anything supernatural about these jhaikan?” Talon asked, looking at Noren to see if the lorenia lines on his face were lighting up. But then they could react to anything of that sort, and onlookers had no way of knowing what a karelia was sensing.
“Not that I see.” As Noren spoke, he unsheathed a karelian longsword, the blade evenly curved with a single cutting edge. A soft green light shone around the black metal and in the magic lettering on the blade, the emerald alight in the pommel beneath his small hands.
Talon remarked, “You must not fight in the dark much, carrying a glowing sword like that.”
Noren smirked. “I thought you said your eyes don’t see anything others can’t.”
Talon didn’t respond, as all time for chatter ended when the six jhaikan reached the bridge at a run. Each stood over nine feet and moved fast on two powerful legs, their clawed hands empty. Sinuous tails swayed with agitation behind them, the spike on the end a formidable weapon. From their wide mouths, rows of serrated teeth were another danger. Their keen sense of smell in a snout-like muzzle could help them hone in on someone, but instead they seemed intent on listening intensely, their ears rapidly swiveling independently of each other.
Their reptilian skin changed colors haphazardly, as if they’d lost all control of their camouflaging abilities. They often glanced backward as they approached, an uncommon sight for a violent species known for stalking and hunting prey. Their obvious flight was a powerful sight, for jhaikan were the thing from which all others on Llurien fled. That disturbed Talon more than the sight of each of them wearing plate armor, for the species normally eschewed such protection, opting for just forearm bracers and mailed gloves with the fingertips removed.
But worst of all was the damage that armor had taken. There were gashes from swords that might’ve been afire for the scorch marks left behind. White frost covered dents. And wiggling arrows seemed to be trying to bore their way deeper. Talon sensed their numbers were reduced and wondered if challenging the leader to single combat would earn them safe passage if he emerged victorious, as that was the jhaikan custom.
“Should we challenge them?” he asked of Mikolyn. Kryll were traditional enemies of jhaikan, more so than any other species, and read their moods better, which became easier as their foe advanced up the bridge, their haste even more apparent.
“No,” answered Orin a little too emphatically.
Mikolyn seemed to agree. “They may not acknowledge. Something is amiss among them.”
Talon nodded, sensing the same. Jhaikan were masters of strategy, but he felt certain they just wanted to get past them. Maybe he and the others should’ve just stepped aside, but now it was too late. With a snarl, the center jhaikan ignored the mynx, who leapt at one of the others, and came straight for Talon.
A steel-gloved hand swung for his sword as if to grasp it, but instead of blocking, Talon turned his weapon’s point so the other’s hand would impale itself. The jhaikan’s glove prevented penetration and its other clawed hand flew toward him. Talon ducked and slashed at its forward leg, the blade coming away red. The jhaikan feigned another swing but Talon sensed the intent and severed the limb. His jhaikan howled and Talon stabbed it through the chest before decapitating it with one tremendous blow.
He stole a glance at the others. Noren seemed unable to get past his mynx, who swiped low at another jhaikan, which had bites and claw wounds to both legs and arms. The cat’s armor had been dented in two places. Mikolyn’s jhaikan had one arm hanging uselessly but the kryll had been slashed across the chest. He seemed unaffected, jhaikan-staff still whistling through the air, this time crushing the jhaikan’s collarbone. The remaining jhaikan hanging back seemed ready to charge when not looking nervously over their shoulders. Talon risked a look but couldn’t see what they were so afraid of.
The mynx clamped down on a jhaikan’s arm, which the jhaikan raised high, exposing the cat’s unprotected belly. Talon leapt forward and sliced off the limb, the jhaikan roaring in fury but unable to stop Talon’s sword from cutting its torso nearly in half. At the same moment, Mikolyn let out a battle cry and smashed his opponent’s skull in so hard that the jhaikan tumbled over the bridge’s low wall. A splash below led to a sickening sizzling sound so odd that both kryll and Nyborian looked over the edge to see what was happening. The body turned red as if boiling, the water around it seething with bubbles, before it sank.
Seeing the way clearer, the remaining three jhaikan charged. Noren stepped aside, as did Jenar and Orin, but Dal stood his ground, swinging hard at the lead jhaikan, who blocked the blow and slashed his chest so hard as to fling him onto his back. The three jhaikan ran straight over him and away, soon disappearing.
Talon helped the knight up, noticing that his destroyed breastplate hung poorly, the straps holding it on partially severed. With a yank, he pulled it off and tossed it aside. “We need to get off this bridge before whatever they’re running from gets here.”
“It must be fearsome,” observed the kryll, wincing in pain. “We would’ve had a worse time had they not been so determined to get past us.”
Noren spent a moment tending to his mynx and saying words in sorelian that Talon didn’t recognize. He turned to Talon. “My cat’s name,” he began, “is Nightwish. Should you desire it, he will follow your commands from here onward.”
“Why?”
“You saved his life. I’ve seen to it that he will obey you.”
Talon wondered if any trickery was afoot, but the sorelia seemed genuine. Did he have a sense of honor after all? Talon hadn’t expected that. But he couldn’t trust someone who wanted to loose cursed items on the unsuspecting. The cat, being an animal, wouldn’t have duplicity, so perhaps the beast could be trusted. Talon would take care not to do the same with the sorelia.
The sound of horses galloping stopped further conversation and Talon motioned for everyone to run back the way they’d come. The rowboats beside the bridge offered the only hiding place. Talon lifted one from the black water and flipped it over as Dal and the swordsman took another and everyone crawled under, careful not to let the oozing liquid touch them. No sooner had they gotten out of sight than a nightmare came into view.
The two dozen horses they’d seen earlier crested a hill in apparent pursuit of the jhaikan, heading straight for the bridge. Like before, they moved in unison and in formation, but this time, they bore riders, all shimmering blackness like shadows that rippled, glowing armor and weapons further masking their forms. Their dress and the curved blades in their hands reminded Talon of Coiryn Riders, but the god of courage they were named after would’ve been appalled by this sight. Talon repositioned himself to peer out from under the curved edge of the upside down rowboat, unable to determine what species the riders resembled, had they ever existed in flesh and blood. One held a
lance upright, a black-and-white pennant flying from it, the symbol hard to see.
The hooves struck the stone bridge with a clatter that slowed as the riders neared and finally stopped, to Talon’s dismay. Had the dead jhaikan been thrown into the river, the ghostly riders might’ve continued, but he couldn’t blame them for investigating the corpses at their feet. He would have done the same. How often did they run across fresh bodies in this cursed place? That someone had done it meant they’d be on the lookout for the culprits. Talon and the others would not remain undetected for long.
Two riders dismounted and walked among the jhaikan bodies. Through the cold breath escaping their mouths, Talon saw their lips move. At the same moment, an eerie breeze seemed to stir up. But then he realized the wind was carrying words, and the breeze he felt was actually their voices slithering through the air. Chills raced down his spine. That he couldn’t understand what was said seemed a blessing.
“They’re trying to raise the jhaikan,” whispered Noren beside him.
“Perfect,” Talon replied. “Undead jhaikan is just what this place needs.”
“Quiet! Both of you!” Jenar fiercely whispered.
A rider turned in their direction but returned his gaze to the dead before him. With a groan, two jhaikan slowly rose, one missing an arm and the other its head, and soon they entered into unholy conversation with their new masters, who sent them shuffling down the bridge toward Talon and the others. On reaching the end, they headed straight toward Talon’s hiding place.
“Be ready,” the Nyborian whispered, gripping his sword.
“By the gods,” Jenar said, eyes wide.
Talon laid a hand on her, feeling protective. The undead jhaikan came perilously close, but from their gait he sensed they’d pass by. And they did, following the river. Meanwhile, the mounted horsemen dashed from the bridge with a racket that included the blowing of a horn, its clarion call dissonant and grating in the surreal atmosphere. If the horn had any effect, he couldn’t tell. Staying behind were the two dismounted riders and their black horses, for what purpose Talon couldn’t tell, but they seemed intent on remaining.
The Ever Fiend (Talon Stormbringer Book 1) Page 3
