Elf Lords: 01 - Pearls of the Elf Lords

by Richard Saunders

  “Then perhaps I will visit the common room later, after we get something to eat.” Landis considered.

  Chapter 22

  The common room in the monastery was nicer than the regular quarters. It had been an ornate library at one time, and still served as such to a lesser degree. One wall was lined with shelves of books, but the majority of the monastery’s texts had been moved to another room long ago. What books remained were rarely used by the travelers or other visitors who stayed at the monastery. There were six tables in the room where a few guests would gather to sample the monks’ highly regarded ale rather than read. Landis visited the room with Trevor and Jareel. Konik remained with Petra and the valued pearls, while Eric stayed in the infirmary monitoring the monk’s progress with Jordan and Jaylen. When the three men entered the common room they saw two men dressed in black tunics and breeches sitting at one table off to the side, and at a closer table a man wearing green pants and a white shirt sat facing them with a blonde woman who had her back to them as they entered the door. She was wearing clothing that matched those of the man she was with, except that it fit snugly enough to show her slender-yet-shapely form from behind. The man had longish brown hair and a friendly face. He looked up as they entered the doorway, then began to speak slowly and softly to the woman sitting opposite him. Landis looked at the couple then chose a table near them to sit. A younger man, who was dressed similar to the monks, but appeared to be too young to be one of their Order, approached the table. “Ale, gentlemen?”

  “Certainly.” Jareel answered, holding up three fingers.

  The monk rushed back to a table holding a wooden keg. He poured three mugs of ale from the tap and returned to the table with them. Jareel deposited two coins into the young man’s hand then grabbed his mug as the man left. “The monks here make some of the best ale in the Westland.”

  Landis sipped at his mug, speaking softly he said, “Watch your tongues in here, friends.”

  Trevor looked about then asked, “You do not trust the monks?”

  “I do not trust anyone, but it is not the monks that I am concerned about. It is the two men over there.” Landis whispered.

  Trevor did not have to look—he had made note of each person in the room upon entering—and he motioned for Jareel to keep his eyes forward. “Do you recognize them?”

  “No, but I know the couple at the table near us, and when we entered he appeared to be talking to the girl, but in reality he was talking to me.”

  Seeing confusion on both of their faces he continued, “Remember that I can hear better than you humans. The man at that table knows me well and understands that. So he simply spoke in a manner that I could understand and warned me not to let on that I know him, and to be careful of the two men in the corner.”

  “You certainly do get around.” Trevor said. “What do we do now?”

  “We find an excuse to talk to them.” Landis said.

  The excuse would not be theirs to make. The man sitting at the table with the blonde leaned over and said loudly, “Excuse me, but was that commotion outside the walls we heard a while ago in anyway your responsibility?”

  “We happened to run afoul of some roving orcs and barely made it here alive,” Landis explained, “Two of our friends were not as lucky as the rest of us. They are in the infirmary suffering from the effects of orcs poison.”

  The blonde turned around. She was tall and muscular for a woman. Her long blonde hair—which was not as golden as Petra’s—hung loose over her shoulders. She was beautiful, with a very exotic look about her. Her eyes were wide and deep blue and made one think that she could look straight into your soul—which Landis believed may be true as she was a very good judge of character—she appeared to be at least part-elf if not more. “What kind of poison?” She asked.

  “Kula Root: the standard poison for orcs,” Landis answered. “Unfortunately the monks here do not have the antidote. They are trying to treat it with similar antidotes.”

  “Fools.” The blonde said as she jumped out of her chair. “If they have any regular antidotes at all then they should know that they have the necessary plants right here in the building that will provide the ingredients to make what they need for Kula Root. I will go help them.”

  The brown-haired man nodded his approval and she rushed out of the room. “My friend is very knowledgeable when it comes to plants and their uses for potions and cures.” He explained.

  Landis had to suppress a smile. It was difficult for him to pretend not to know who Twaller Oakleaf or Katryn were. Twaller had been one of the druids who had helped him after his first encounter with Triana. The two had become good friends over the years and Landis had gained a lot of knowledge from the druid. Landis had met Katryn soon after he and Jandelie had last parted ways and they had become friends, and sometimes lovers. Katryn was at one with the wilderness, so Landis had introduced her to Twaller who—after seeing her great natural potential—eventually persuaded her to join the druids. It was soon after that when Katryn and Landis had to part ways, so that the blonde woman could devote the time she needed to prepare herself for the series of druidic initiations that she would have to go through to become one of the Order. Landis had fond memories of his time with Katryn. Those memories mingled with his recent memories of Jandelie, and even his previous night with Petra, to create mixed emotions within the half-elf.

  “Well, with my assistant off trying to help your friends, would you mind if I join you?” Twaller asked.

  Trevor extended his hand to the druid, “It will be a pleasure. And if that pretty young girl can help our friends then we will be in your debt.”

  “Twaller Oakleaf is the name.” He introduced himself as he took a seat at their table and whispered, “No need to make up names, I’m sure they know who you are, Landis, so too much subterfuge may only alert them that you are suspicious.”

  “And not enough will do the same.” Landis whispered back before saying, “My name is Landis and these are my friends Trevor and Jareel.”

  “And may I inquire as to the name of your lovely assistant?” Jareel asked.

  “Katryn,” Twaller answered, “but do not get your hopes up, young man. I believe that she is waiting for someone else to return to her.” He looked at Landis as he spoke these last words.

  “Well I guess that some guys just have all the luck.” Trevor said, picking up on the druid’s gestures. “Who are they?” He whispered as he raised his mug to his lips.

  Twaller looked to Jareel, “You are not from the Westland; might I inquire as to where you are from?”

  Jareel understood that the druid was asking for misdirection, so he began relaying his travels from his homeland to the Westland while Twaller—with his back to the two black clad men—spoke softly. “They are supposedly traveling with a sick friend who never leaves his room. Katryn judged them both to be wicked when she first saw them. They arrived yesterday and have been secretive ever since. I have seen a tattoo on one of them. He was careless when leaning forward and I was able to see a serpent wrapped around a dagger on his chest.”

  “Stalkers.” Trevor hissed, noting the symbol used by many in the Westland’s Assassins Guild.

  “One of them mentioned the letter ‘D’ when discussing taking something back to their sick friend.” Twaller added.

  Landis felt a chill run up his spine. “It was not the letter, but a shortened form of the name of an old acquaintance. But how did he know that we would bring Petra here?”

  Jareel finished his story. “And that is how I have come to be with these fine gentlemen.”

  None of the other three were even sure that they knew what the plainsman had rattled on about during his tale. “And what brings you here?” Jareel asked of the druid.

  “I recently came into contact with someone who asked me to travel to pick up something for her. A beautiful young lady by the name of Triana; and I just could not deny her request. My assistant and I decided to stay here and visit with the monks for a
few days. We can always learn something from them, and the ale is worth the trip itself. When will you be leaving?”

  “I suppose that depends on our friend’s recovery.” Landis answered.

  He wanted to ask about Triana but felt that the time was not right. It was enough that Twaller had provided him with information that he had somehow been in contact with the elf maiden. Landis had never heard Twaller mention her before, other than during discussions when Landis had shared his visions with the druid. To find Twaller and Katryn here at this place and at this time was too much of a coincidence to be ignored. Landis assumed that Triana must have sent them to aid in their efforts to evade the snow-elf. And the comment Twaller had made about picking up something for hermade Landis wonder if Twaller was the person he was to deliver the staff to. Landis believed that they had said enough in public. Now it was time to just talk about anything else and see what the two men in the corner would do. He tried to listen in on their conversation but they spoke softly enough that the distance and conversation at his own table prevented him from being able to do so. They each drank another mug of ale and were chatting idly when Katryn returned to the room. She approached the table, saying, “The monks now know how to make the correct antidote. Your friends will be fine, but the Kula Root must run its course. It will take a day or more to sleep off the effects, and the poison will still cause swelling and discomfort. But at least your friends will live.”

  “You have our thanks, Katryn.” Landis said sincerely, an idea already coming to mind. He offered to buy the two druids another drink while secretly motioning that she and Twaller should excuse themselves and return to their rooms.

  “Thank you, but I think it is time for us to say goodnight,” Twaller said as he stood up. “I wish your friends a speedy recovery. Perhaps we will see each other in the morning.”

  Landis, Trevor and Jareel bid them farewell. Pretending not to care about the two remaining men as they watched Twaller and Katryn—more specifically Katryn—walk out of the room. Once they were gone Landis began talking, keeping his voice just loud enough to be overheard without making it sound obvious. “I believe that we should provide for some protection for our friends tonight. While I trust the monks, I believe that our new friend may be just a little too interested in us.”

  “I wouldn’t mind questioning the blonde for you?” Jareel said with a grin.

  Landis pretended to ignore the comment, “I think that you and your uncle should sleep in the infirmary tonight to stand guard over Jordan and Jaylen. I am certain that the monks will not mind.” Turning to Trevor he said, “You can stay with Eric tonight, that way he will be safe from harm. And I will stay with Petra.”

  “Naturally.” Jareel commented.

  They finished their drinks and left. As they walked down the hall, Landis leaned close to Jareel and said, “Take the bag with the bracelet and the broken staff with you to the infirmary. If anything happens I think you will be able to watch them better. I will hold on to the green staff.”

  Chapter 23

  Diabolis and Samuel waited quietly in the darkened room. Both of the men were wearing the brown robes of the monks over their black clothing. The disguise had made their passage through the back halls of the monastery an easy venture. While his two cohorts had bantered about in the library listening to Landis and the others, Diabolis had used that time to secure information on which rooms Petra and her escort would be occupying. Through several prudent questions and some well placed bribes among a pair of novice monks, he had gained what information he needed to formulate a feasible plan. The assassin had long ago learned that the younger members of just about any group were susceptible to revealing more than they should, especially since they were often looked down on by others, and were usually forced to perform the tasks that others did not want to do. By treating them kindly and showing them attention, one could often learn plenty without ever attracting suspicion.

  Tazen, the assassin who had been sitting in the common room with Samuel, had already left the building to carry out his part of Diabolis’ plot, which was to prepare for their escape by having the horses ready for them to ride out of the monastery once Diabolis had succeeded in killing the Princess. It was not as glamorous as killing a royal princess, but it was a much needed task if they were to live to collect payment for their deeds. If all went as planned, they would be gone hours before the murders were discovered. All Diabolis and Samuel would have to do is sneak away from this hallway—which should be less difficult than their entrance into this part of the building had been—and then discard the robes and walk outside to where Tazen would be waiting with the horses. Then they would ride out through the front gate free and clear. There was only one guard on watch at the gate and there were no rules to prohibit the guests from leaving whenever they chose to do so; only to prevent them from entering the monastery during the night without contacting Jehu or one of the other senior monks. If they ran into trouble and the alarm was sounded then Tazen would silently kill the lone guard and open the gate so that they could all ride out swiftly into the darkness beyond the walls. Diabolis was positive that his Tazen would succeed in whichever of the two tasks he had to undertake. He had to be, for the master-assassin had to give all of his attention to killing the Princess of Alexon. Killing Landis was unnecessary, unless he got in the way. Even so, Diabolis looked at the half-elf’s death as a bonus.

  Diabolis knelt on the floor beside the door. Using a small, thumb-tip sized piece of a broken mirror that was affixed to the end of a curved stick, he was able to hold it under the door and view the hallway outside in both directions. The only light came from a candle box hanging on the wall at the end of the hall where it intersected with the main corridor. The hall was shadowy, but Diabolis’ dark eyes could easily make out the doors and anyone coming or going. He had watched as the various members of Petra’s party had returned to their assigned quarters from wherever they had been during the last hour since Diabolis and Samuel had slipped into this unoccupied room. Samuel had told Diabolis all that they had overheard of Landis’ plans. Still, Diabolis chose to check with the novice to acquire verification of that information. He had paid the young man well for any and all knowledge that the acolyte could provide concerning the people who had been attacked by the orcs earlier that evening. Satisfied that what he learned from the monks coincided well with the information Samuel and Tazen had attained, the assassin was confident that his plan had a better than average chance of success.

  As an act of insurance that his tactics remain undisclosed to anyone, both of the novices now lay naked and dead beneath the covers in Diabolis’ room. Diabolis had long ago learned that the best kept secrets were those that were already in the grave. The deaths of the two young men served a practical reason as well: providing the robes that Diabolis and Samuel now wore as their disguise.

  After patiently waiting and watching the hall, Diabolis was pleased to observe Landis and Petra enter one room alone. He only wished that he had been able to go into the room prior to their arrival. But having no prior information as to when Petra would arrive and where she would be assigned, he was forced to accept the conditions as they came. He had managed to do more with less planning and was pleased with the circumstances as they were. At least he had this room to stage his assault, making the task at hand less difficult to manage. Now Diabolis waited for enough time to pass to guarantee that the others were asleep. He knew Landis too well to believe that he would be able to sneak into the half-elf’s room without waking him. So Diabolis formulated his next steps very carefully.

  Hearing something in the hallway he quickly lowered his mirror below the door to see what was going on. He watched as two robed monks, each carrying a small tray, walked down the hall stopping at Petra’s door. One of them knocked and announced that they had the tea that Petra had requested. Diabolis watched as the door to the room next to Petra’s opened and Trevor Kahn stepped into the hallway to verify who the monks were. He checked the teapo
t and the plate of what Diabolis assumed to be a bedtime snack for the princess. Once satisfied Trevor Kahn announced his approval; only then did Landis open the door to allow the monks to enter. Diabolis kept watch, noting that Trevor did not move from his location in the doorway at any time while the monks were inside Petra’s room. Only when they prepared to leave did he stand aside to allow them to exit. Trevor Kahn remained at his position watching the monks as they made their way down the hall, their robed heads lowered in required subservience. Only after they had turned the corner and were beyond sight and sound did Trevor inquire and receive permission to close the door and return to his room.

  Diabolis was very pleased that the doors here had no locks, just as the ones in the wing where his room was. He just hoped that Landis did not sleep in his customary position with his feet in front of the door, as the half-elf had done so many times when they traveled together. Diabolis settled down, knowing that he would have to wait a while before it would be safe enough to leave this room. While waiting, he went over his equipment in the darkness one more time. He wore no sword tonight. That had been given to Tazen, along with his other belongings that were being packed up with the gear on his horse. He had a long-knife on his hip and two small crossbows that he carefully went over. Both of them were already loaded and tipped with poison. Unlike typical crossbows, each of these had a small clip that held the arrow in place so that it could remain loaded and ready while hanging at his side without fear of the arrow falling out of the weapon as it would with most crossbows. He was careful not to touch the arrowheads so as not to disturb the poisoned tips. He laughed silently knowing that not even the pretty blonde who had apparently saved the kid and Landis’ father from the orc poison would have the antidote for what he used. If the arrows did not kill Petra and Landis, then the poison would do so in less than thirty minutes. Diabolis was a very good shot with either hand and believed that the poison was unnecessary. But after the fiasco in Birhirm he was not going to take any chances.