The Ever Fiend (Talon Stormbringer Book 1)

by Randy Ellefson

  “Now we can be worried,” he remarked.

  “Indeed,” whispered Noren. “Fortunately, those with the horn have left, or else we’d emerge only to have them all return, for I suspect it is used to call other riders to them.”

  Talon observed, “My blade is not magical.”

  The sorelia nodded. “Only mine is, so this fight will be mine. It is unlikely that normal weapons will hurt them. You and Nightwish will come. They will not know that only I am a danger to them.”

  Talon understood his role but hoped the sorelia wasn’t being overconfident. “Surprise is impossible. We must get to the bridge before they can mount and ride past us.”

  “What if they ride the other way?” Jenar whispered.

  He looked back at her silently, his flat gaze indicating that wouldn’t be good. He said to Noren, “Nightwish should run to the bridge. He’ll get there faster than either of us.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” the knight whispered from the other rowboat.

  Talon shook his head. “Follow, but do not get in the way of the charge.”

  “Agreed.”

  With a final look at the sorelia, who nodded consent, Talon thrust the rowboat up and off. The two riders whirled in their direction as Nightwish sprinted toward them, the Nyborian and Noren close behind, Jenar taking her time to follow. The other rowboat lifted up hastily as the kryll and knight emerged and followed them, Orin bringing up the rear.

  Just as Talon feared, the riders mounted their horses to drive toward them, but the mynx was faster, reaching the bridge’s end just as the first rider tried to jump past. The cat leapt at steed and rider, bearing both to the ground with a growl and then springing free. Still running, Talon pulled a dagger from his waist and hurled it at the fallen rider, who rose with surprising speed and swung a flaming sword at Nightwish. Despite hitting point first, Talon’s blade bounced harmlessly away but distracted the rider, who missed the mynx. The cat jumped free and pounced on the fallen horse, which was trying to rise but now found a battle-trained mynx clawing its throat out.

  Talon saw that the second rider would get past them, but suddenly a spear flew past his head from behind and impaled the horse, which staggered and fell to its front knees, throwing its rider to the ground. Talon leapt at the horse and sliced deep through its neck even as the beast fell dead, felled by Mikolyn’s jhaikan-staff.

  In an instant, its rider was on him, swinging a frost-rimed flail. Talon ducked and the spiked ball flew past his head before circling again at a lower arc. The flail’s chain wrapped around his upraised sword, yanking it from his suddenly frost-covered hand, but now the rider’s weapon was useless until Talon’s blade was removed from the ball and chain.

  Talon glanced at Noren, whose black sword, glowing green, clashed with his opponent’s flaming steel. Despite being shorter by a foot, the sorelia easily held his own and began pressing the rider backward before plunging the sword into its chest. Clutching Noren’s blade with both black hands, the rider screamed as the blade burst into green fire. The rider crumbled to dust, the flames on its dropped sword extinguishing.

  “Talon! Here!” Jenar yelled.

  He turned to see one of her swords flying through the air. With a quick roll toward it, he caught the hilt and turned, just in time to see his opponent throw a knife that he narrowly dodged. A grunt of pain behind sounded like Mikolyn. He engaged the shadowy rider, luring it away from Noren, who quietly approached it from behind. The sorelia stabbed the glowing blade through the rider’s back with the same results as on the previous opponent. Noren promptly scooped the ashes into a pouch before returning to the other pile to do the same. Talon didn’t want to know what he intended to do with the ashes.

  “We don’t have time for souvenirs,” he said, retrieving his sword and returning Jenar’s. As their eyes met, another thing they didn’t have time for came to mind. Though she hadn’t participated in the battle much, Jenar looked invigorated and excited, lips parted, eyes alight. A sudden desire to kiss those lips surprised him with its strength, but he settled for an intense look of gratitude that made her blush and look away.

  The sorelia didn’t respond to Talon but took both the riders’ weapons. He pulled a folded sack from within his armor and dropped them in, then slung it over one shoulder. “We must go, and quickly. The others are bound to return.”

  “Noren,” the knight called from where he stood beside Mikolyn, who held one red hand to his side, a bloody dagger at his feet. “A potion healed his chest but had no effect on this new wound.”

  The sorelia approached and looked at the dagger that had caused the wound. “A Chaos Blade. The wound will not heal here.”

  “What can we do?”

  Noren shrugged. “Magic is unpredictable until we’re back on Llurien. The wound doesn’t appear serious.”

  Mikolyn nodded grimly and pulled a bandage from a pouch at his waist, binding the wound as he could. As the others prepared to leave, Talon noticed Jenar pick up the Chaos Dagger and put it in her belt. He looked at Orin and stifled a frown, for Orin had made no secret of being willing to let others do the fighting while he kept himself safe. The swordsman was a liability and might get them killed if depended on.

  Talon went to the rowboats and shoved two into the black water to suggest to anyone who came looking for them that they’d headed downriver toward the Lake of Souls.

  As they crossed the bridge and continued on the other side, Dal remarked, “Those riders were from Avalends.”

  Talon nodded, having also recognized their tunic’s insignia of a castle astride a river. The city lay to the east of Nybor beyond the plains of Lorne. Not expecting an answer, he asked, “What are they doing here?”

  Noren pursed his lips. “Those were the Royal Riders of Avalends, I suspect. They haven’t been seen in hundreds of years, since they entered Everland in search of their queen.”

  “The one who disappeared?” asked Talon, recalling the story from his schooling.

  “Yes. She was kidnapped and thought to have been brought here by jhaikan, so the riders followed.”

  Jenar asked, “Why would they have brought her here?”

  “They wouldn’t have, and didn’t.”

  “Then what happened to her?”

  Noren grinned. “They ate her.”

  Chapter 4 – The Poison Pond

  A quarter hour later, Talon still felt that there was too much risk of the other Shadow Riders finding them. At his suggestion, they’d followed the riders’ trail through swaying, tall grass in the hope of not leaving behind a trail of their own. To one side rolled hills. A vast plain stretched away on the other. Ahead lay a thick forest that seemed like a bad idea to enter.

  “Do we intend to go in?” Talon asked Noren.

  The sorelia shook his head. “We are near. I anticipate the scenery changing before we reach the woods, and being more like what surrounds the pond.”

  “How can you expect that?”

  Noren eyed him, as if considering. “Do you not feel it? Search your senses.”

  “For what?”

  “A sense of foreboding more acute than the rest, and in a specific direction from where you’re facing. Once aware of it, you can feel its strength ebb and flow with your proximity to the source.”

  Behind them, Orin grunted. “And you karelia walk toward these things.”

  “Who else but us? Certainly not the likes of you.” Noren paid no attention to the scowl his words caused.

  Mikolyn let out a gasp and leaned hard on his jhaikan-staff for support. The others gathered around as Talon pulled the kryll’s hand from his wound, noticing the frigid skin. The knife wound had turned black, tinged with blue frost that seemed to be encroaching from the edges as if working its way deeper.

  “What is it?” Mikolyn asked, straining to see. “What’s happening?”

  Noren shook his head. “You’re infected.”

  “With what?” Talon asked.

  The sorelia shrugg
ed. “If we do not hurry and get him back to Llurien, we shall find out.”

  “Then we return now,” urged Talon, putting one of the kryll’s arms around his shoulders and turning toward the trail through the grass.

  “No,” disagreed Noren. “We are too close. It will take a short time to complete our task.”

  “You can’t do it without me,” Talon bluffed, for he saw no reason why the others couldn’t get the silver elixir, unless something about this Poison Pond was so terrifying that the others wouldn’t approach and he would. Certainly the kryll had the courage, but now this was a moot point. Perhaps he was the only one. The sorelia had admitted, when asked, that he needed to suppress supernatural life forms near the pond while Talon collected the prize, or else he would have done it himself.

  “And you cannot return without me,” Noren answered.

  “You just told me how.”

  “No, I told you how to sense the Poison Pond, not an Ever Gate, much less the right one, and I doubt if you have the capability either way.”

  “You said yourself that I have karelian blood.”

  “But not karelian refinement. You do not know the art, have not been trained, and any talent you have will be diluted by your human ancestry. Don’t be a fool. You’re wasting time. If you really want to save him, then continue with us.”

  Without waiting to see if Talon was following, the sorelia led Nightwish toward what had just been a green canopy of trees ahead but which was now rolling hills with sparse underbrush. The sight sobered Talon. Used to finding his way with the sun or stars, or knowledge of an area, with landmarks like mountains that weren’t moving, he felt no hope of escaping this land without the cursed sorelia, who clearly had little respect for anyone’s life.

  “Do as he asks,” said Mikolyn, watching everyone follow Noren, “for he is right.”

  With the kryll’s arm still around his shoulders, Talon grimaced but said nothing as they joined the others, who glanced back with a mixture of relief and regret, as if afraid of what Mikolyn might turn into. If someone suggested leaving the kryll behind so they wouldn’t be around to find out, Talon would run them through. He exchanged a few quiet words of support and thanks with Mikolyn, who professed to not wanting to be a burden, before realizing aloud that the big Nyborian showed no signs of being burdened at all.

  Miles later, Noren motioned for everyone to stop and sent Nightwish scampering up a hill before them, the cat moving with its tail low as if spooked. It slunk near the crest of the hill and slowly inched forward, ears alert and head snapping back and forth quickly. With a flick of its tail, it inched backward and then finally rose and came trotting back.

  “We are there?” Talon surmised, sensing something even before the mynx’s actions.

  The sorelia patted the cat’s head. “Yes, and something is near the water, as suspected. You may draw your weapons if you feel comforted by doing so, but none of you have one that will help you, save the girl.”

  Jenar looked surprised until the karelia eyed the Chaos Dagger tucked into her waistband. Her cheeks turned red. “Maybe I should go to the pond and enchant my swords first. Then we’ll have two more.”

  Noren replied, “You won’t make it there alive, or sane anyway, if I do not becalm that which lurks here.” He gazed at her silently, as if impressed. Then he turned to Talon. “Perhaps I don’t need you after all. It seems we have one with the courage to do what you’re here for.”

  The woman beamed and Orin snickered while Talon frowned. Noren led them around the hill, everyone alert. He didn’t need to tell them to keep quiet, but Talon suspected that whatever was guarding the pond already knew they were here. The lorenia lines on the sorelia’s face had been growing brighter, though that could’ve meant anything magical. Still, he sensed something menacing just out of sight and all around, an impression of invisible forces swirling in anticipation of a meal consisting of their souls. Nightwish’s back was arched and the cat’s fur stood on end.

  Rounding the hill, they came upon the Poison Pond. Roughly oblong, it lay fifty yards across, half again as wide. The silver waters rippled from an unseen wind that didn’t strike the onlookers, an occasional circle of waves spreading outward as if something under the surface had moved. The liquid was thick enough to obscure whatever lay beneath and radiated light that cast dancing shadows on several boulders near its edge. Jet black, knee-high reeds swayed at one end, rising from the pool. Across the way, two Asyander trees, their trunks stark white, stood rooted near the edge but leaned sharply away as if desperate to escape the water.

  All around the pond were the footprints of animals, humanoid species, and other beings whose mark Talon couldn’t identify for all his years of tracking in the wild. The area immediately before them had trampled grass as if it was the preferred area to consume the sinister toxin. Aside from plants, no other sign of life existed, and Talon had the distinct impression that only death awaited those who came here. He glanced at the others; all but Noren and Mikolyn had wide, staring eyes. The sorelia had been right—had Talon known the growing sense of foreboding that he had been feeling had come from here, he would have been able to follow it without error to its source, just as Noren had. The realization made his stomach knot. He couldn’t help putting one hand on his sword hilt and looking over each shoulder warily.

  As the sorelia began gesturing and whispering words of magic, some of which Talon recognized, the feeling of dread began to fade. Was the danger afraid of them now? Repulsed? Intimidated? Or just realizing that the conquest was not that easy after all? He felt glad for Noren’s skills, as creepy as the karelian species could sometimes be. Sometimes having one with you proved a boon, but sorelia lacked the honor that karelia exuded.

  “It is time,” Noren said in Antarian, the language common to all. He continued moving his arms in a pattern as if tracing something in the air. Talon had the impression that as long as the sorelia did this, his spell remained in effect. “We will wait here, Stormbringer, while you retrieve the elixir. Be careful not to touch it. If you think the Shadow Rider’s dagger caused a nasty wound in that kryll, it is nothing compared to the elixir’s touch.”

  Before he could set off, Jenar appeared beside him, one hand on his bicep. She was so close that the faint scent of lluvien perfume, which he had not noticed before, filled his nostrils. She seemed somehow smaller, her eyes wide and head tilted down despite being shorter than him.

  “Talon,” she whispered. She seemed intent on saying more but didn’t, as if inhibited by fear.

  “Stay here with the others,” he said reassuringly, trying to appear more unfazed than he was. “Nightwish will protect you in the short time I’ll be at the water’s edge.”

  “Stay wary,” she advised.

  He gripped her hand and then turned away, brushing her from his mind with an effort.

  Drawing and raising his sword because instinct demanded it, Talon crept across the short green grass, which seemed unnaturally lush. He wondered if the nearby waters somehow invigorated it despite their name. He felt and sensed spirits hovering at the edge of his consciousness as if trying to probe him, his skin prickling. What good was a sword here? His fingers itched for the Chaos Blade that Jenar wore, but he didn’t look back.

  Now just strides from the Poison Pond, Talon turned his attention more fully to it. He had been aware of a hissing sound growing louder, and it seemed to come from the water itself. If something lurked just under it, ready to spring for him, he would never know until it did so, but he liked to think that Noren or even Viland would’ve told him if that was the case. They could’ve killed him long before now if his death was all they wanted. But then, maybe death wasn’t what happened to those who fell in.

  At the water’s edge, Talon slowly crouched to one knee, ready to jump back if needed. Without looking, he unfastened one vial from the sash and popped the cork into the grass, which grew right to the water’s edge. If the pool ever shrank and expanded, there was no sign of it, unless i
t was now at its fullest. Talon turned his sword so the point faced the water, to impale anything leaping from within. With his other hand, he lowered the vial to the surface, his eyes finally dropping to the task so as to avoid dipping too far and touching the dreaded liquid.

  The vial’s edge slipped into the pond, the viscous silver elixir oozing into the opening with a hiss like steam. Soon the flow stopped and he slowly lifted the bottle out, seeing the liquid fall away from its sides, none of it remaining on the vial. Until now, Talon hadn’t considered the need to wipe excess elixir from a vial’s exterior, but the question was moot. The falling droplets struck the surface as if striking a solid, expanding outward in a splash mark before slowly sinking. Talon stood the vial on the ground, stoppered it tightly with one hand, and put it back in his sash. In due time, he had completed the other vials and returned to the still-gesturing Noren as quickly as he dared, never turning his back to the Poison Pond. Jenar looked noticeably more relaxed than before, but then nothing had happened to him.

  “It is done.”

  “Good.”

  “Not quite,” said Jenar, drawing her swords. She advanced with more bravado than Talon, whether because he had been unmolested or because she was intent to get this over with. Striding quickly, she made it to the shoreline and slid both blades into the silver elixir. She held them there for a dozen heartbeats and Talon wondered if she thought the amount of time submerged would impact what became of the now enchanted blades. Finally, she lifted both out, holding them point down so any liquid would pour off, which it did in twin streams. With a nervous little laugh, she held the blades up, and only then could Talon see that both glowed silver, illuminated from within.

  Talon was about to urge her to return when something echoed her laughter, but wickedly. The direction from which it came could not be easily determined, and as Talon scanned back and forth, even behind, he saw the others doing so, too. Nightwish had risen to all fours, his tail bushy with fright for the only time Talon had seen. Suddenly Noren let out a gasp and fell back, his hands no longer moving, and the Nyborian knew that whatever he had been doing to suppress the supernatural here was over.