Shanks took a step toward Davian, but his soldiers stepped between them. Instantly, the mercenaries came alongside Shanks, a steely chill in their expressions.
“Enough!” Lord Davian barked. “Ready the horses. We must be off without further delay. Emperor Narlius awaits our arrival. Secure the stone in my saddlebag.”
“Skinner’s orders were that the Onyx remain in my possession until you secure the deal with Emperor Narlius,” Shanks said in a threatening tone.
Lord Davian twisted his lips in a scathing line. “Skinner’s orders were also that I oversee the safe transport of the Onyx. As you no longer have a steed, or a usable saddlebag, I am officially taking over the task you failed to execute.”
Shanks watched, eyes brimming with rage, as one of the soldiers placed the sack inside Lord Davian’s saddlebag. The mercenaries looked at Shanks expectantly, but he raised a restraining hand. Orlla breathed out a sigh of relief. A bloody fight to the death might end with the wrong side securing the victory.
“Take my horse,” Erdhan said to Shanks. “I’ll ride with Orlla.”
Shanks gave a curt nod of thanks and reached for the reins Erdhan held out to him. He swung himself into the saddle with a heavy grunt. “Did I mention I was going to gut him before I kill him?” he said with venom. Without waiting for a response, he flicked the reins and trotted off after Lord Davian and his soldiers.
It was late afternoon when Emperor Narlius’s palace came into view on a windswept knoll overlooking Llanmena, the largest city on the Ithaton peninsula.
“Make haste before the gates close!” Lord Davian called back to them as he urged his horse forward along the road. “I’ll gallop ahead and let them know we’re coming.”
By the time they crossed into the city, Orlla and Erdhan were swaying in the saddle, partly from exhaustion, partly from the lingering effects of the herbal sleeping potion Davian had added to their food. Even the horses plodded listlessly over the cobblestone streets, weary from the two-day ride and beaten down by the harsh weather they had endured for a good part of the trip.
“I spoke with the sentries at the gate,” Lord Davian said. “It’s too late to present ourselves to Emperor Narlius tonight. We will sojourn at an inn they directed me to and then set off for the palace first thing in the morning.”
He led them along the main thoroughfare where sharp-eyed merchants were hustling to close deals with patrons before the light faded entirely. Orlla’s gaze swept the stalls, her stomach growling at the tantalizing scents wafting her way. A man standing next to a stand selling candles of all shapes and sizes inclined his head to them in passing.
When he straightened up, her heart jolted at the familiar, gray eyes beneath the wide-brimmed hat.
Chapter 17
“Did you see him?” Orlla hissed over her shoulder to Erdhan.
He looked around uncertainly. “Who?”
“Akolom, the man wearing the hat. Standing by the candle stall we went by.”
Erdhan turned around in the saddle and stared at the elderly man shuffling away from the stall with his back to them. “Are you sure that’s Akolom? That man is advanced in years and walks with a stoop.”
“He has aged rapidly in the past few days,” Orlla admitted. “But I could never mistake his eyes.”
“That means Khor might be here somewhere too,” Erdhan said, an undercurrent of excitement in his voice. “Keep combing the stalls. He will try to make his presence known to us if he spots us.”
They fell silent as they continued down the main thoroughfare, scrutinizing the farmers and merchants packing up for the day, hoping to catch a glimpse of Khor somewhere in the midst of the activity. Carts trundled by in both directions, but there was no sign of the Protector anywhere.
“If he’s here, he’s lying low,” Erdhan muttered.
“He said he would find us,” Orlla reminded him. “He might follow us to the inn and wait until night falls before making contact.”
A short time later, the inn came into view, a stone and wood-beamed building huddled along a curve in the main street with the soft flicker of lanterns visible through the shuttered windows and a cozy spiral of smoke going up from the chimney stack. After the group had taken their horses around to the stable at the back, and Lord Davian had unbuckled the saddlebag containing the dark dragon stone, they made their way inside.
From behind a worn wooden counter top, a lanky innkeeper acknowledged them with a swift dip of his pointed chin. Gray hair sprouted stiff as a broom from atop his pinched face. His hooded eyes darted over them, as if calculating the profits to be made from a group of their size. “Welcome!” he bellowed across to them, displaying a cursory gap-toothed smile beneath expressionless eyes, which immediately flagged him as somewhat untrustworthy in Orlla’s mind.
“Wait here,” Lord Davian said to them. “I’ll find out if they can furnish us with rooms for the night.” He strode over to the innkeeper and leaned across the counter, making it impossible for anyone else to overhear their conversation.
While the mercenaries and soldiers milled around the entryway, Orlla kept an eye on Davian’s dealings from behind a large, supporting beam. Her initial hunch about the innkeeper, and her awareness of Lord Davian’s scheming ways, made her suspect that the covert deal being struck might not be strictly concerning lodgings for the night. Her misgivings heightened when Lord Davian produced a bulging purse from beneath his cloak and counted out an inordinate amount of coin.
Orlla sidled over to the door where Shanks and the other mercenaries were engaged in conversation. As soon as Shanks saw the look on her face, he broke away and beckoned her closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Lord Davian is up to something. He handed over enough coin to house us here for a month or more.”
Shanks shrugged. “Maybe he paid the innkeeper to guard our rooms well.”
Orlla grimaced. “He’s not stupid enough to draw unwarranted attention to the treasure we are carrying with us. I fear he is plotting with the innkeeper to get rid of us.”
Shanks rubbed a hand over the bristle on his jaw as he considered her words. “It would be a bold move on his part to enlist the services of a man he cannot be sure he can trust, in a town where he is a stranger.”
“You must warn your men to be on their guard,” Orlla said.
Shanks cleared his throat to alert her as footsteps sounded behind her.
“I have secured three rooms for the night,” Davian said striding up to them. “My men and I will take one, Shanks, you and your men will take another.” He paused and darted a glance over his shoulder in the direction of the innkeeper before lowering his voice. “The stone and the rune weavers will occupy the third room under the watch of one of my soldiers and one of your mercenaries. The innkeeper is sending up a locked chest to keep it in.”
Shanks gave a grim nod. “I’ll have my man Crag guard the chest for now. We can switch shifts later.”
Orlla schooled her face to neutral, trying not to show surprise at the news that she and Erdhan were to be housed with the stone overnight. It made sense, the more she thought about it. It wasn’t just the stone Lord Davian needed to make sure was still there in the morning—he needed a rune weaver too.
They headed upstairs and deposited their travel sacks and cloaks in their rooms. Orlla watched with dismay as Lord Davian secured the stone in the large padlocked wooden chest, banded with iron, which two strapping servants had carried upstairs. There would be no possibility of stealing the stone as long as Davian had the key—she would need Akolom’s help to weave a weightlessness rune strong enough to lift a chest that size. After promising Crag and the soldier remaining behind to guard the Onyx that they would return with food shortly, the group made their way back downstairs.
“The innkeeper told me of an excellent tavern up on the hill called The Happy Rooster that serves a fine duck pie,” Lord Davian said as they exited the inn into the bracing, evening air. “Just a short walk from here.”
&nbs
p; As they trudged up the hill, Orlla and Erdhan kept a close eye on their surroundings in the event that either Khor or Akolom were hiding in the shadows, but they saw no sign of either one of them.
Orlla breathed slowly in and out, her gut tight with apprehension. One more night and then they would have to make a move, whatever it entailed. At least Akolom had shown up. She felt better knowing there was another Keeper in the vicinity who could fortify her runes if her strength began to fail.
They pushed open the carved, wooden door of The Happy Rooster and were greeted by the welcoming warmth of a blazing fire and the lively banter of the tipsy patrons. The bartender, a tall, lean sort with a few greasy strands of hair draped over a shiny scalp, wiped his hands on a rag and hurried over to usher them to a couple of empty tables next to a large group of gruff-looking men.
The mercenaries and soldiers seated themselves at separate tables. After a moment’s hesitation, Erdhan joined the mercenaries at their table. Orlla followed suit, sitting down on the bench next to Shanks, before Lord Davian yanked her unceremoniously back to her feet. “You’ll sit at my table. We have much to discuss about tomorrow’s meeting with Emperor Narlius.”
Orlla bit her lip and took a seat with the soldiers. A wench with a tray of pitchers appeared and handed out a round of drinks to both tables. The soldiers chatted among themselves as they sipped their ale, ignoring Orlla entirely until the food arrived.
The acclaimed duck pie proved rather bland and the crust too dry for Orlla’s taste, but she ate her fill knowing there would be little time to eat once they made their escape. She couldn’t help but notice Lord Davian’s restive gaze roving repeatedly over the rough-looking men seated at the table next to the mercenaries. The churlish group either hadn’t noticed his interest or were studiously ignoring it. She frowned to herself. With the Onyx of Darkness safe at the inn, what did Davian have to fear from them?
After the serving wench had supplied them with another round of ale, Lord Davian leaned back in his chair and turned to Orlla. “Let’s discuss our joint endeavor tomorrow. After all, we both have a vested interest in making sure it is a success.”
Orlla bristled. “I haven’t forgotten that you left my brother to die. You’re the last person I would willingly choose to work with.”
Lord Davian lifted up his hands in mock protest. “The past is the past. Let us set aside our differences for now. If all goes well at the palace tomorrow, we will part company with bulging saddlebags of gold, and you will never be obligated to cross paths with me again.”
Orlla fought to keep her expression impassive. He was lying through his teeth, but for now she was forced to play along. She had hoped to hash out a plan with Shanks over supper to get rid of Lord Davian, but that would have to wait until they returned to the inn and found a discreet opportunity.
“I will conduct the negotiations with Emperor Narlius,” Lord Davian continued. “Undoubtedly, he, and the other dignitaries present, will require proof that it is in fact the dark dragon stone we are auctioning off. You must be prepared to unveil it and demonstrate its power to the court.”
Orlla flashed Lord Davian a withering look. “I don’t know how to activate the Onyx of Darkness. I have not studied the runes inscribed upon it.”
Lord Davian clasped his hands carefully in front of him and leaned his elbows on the table, scrutinizing her with an aggravated air. “Tonight, you will have ample opportunity to remedy that situation and prepare yourself for a convincing demonstration. It will not be enough to unveil the stone in the presence of the emperor, although that in itself will make for a dramatic moment.” He twirled one end of his mustache, his lips tugging up at the corners as if enjoying some private joke.
Orlla swallowed, recoiling from the idea of attempting to invoke the power of the Onyx without her mentor by her side to advise her—there was no telling what fury the stone might unleash. She picked up her mug of ale and stared down at the amber liquid. Once its power was unleashed, there would be no way to keep it in check. Akolom would know what to do. She had to find a way to speak to him. His wisdom had been gleaned over many centuries of living, and no one knew the truth of the mysteries girding the dragon stones better than he did.
“I will speak to the emperor on the matter first,” Orlla said, holding Lord Davian’s piercing gaze. “He must be made to understand the dangers of invoking the dark dragon stone without properly understanding its workings.”
Lord Davian’s face darkened. “You will do exactly what I tell you to do. If you refuse, your fellow rune weaver at the next table will pay the price.” He slid his eyes in Erdhan’s direction and then subtly drew his hand across his throat in a menacing gesture.
Orlla flashed him a dark scowl. “He is your fellow Macobite. If you harm him in any way, I will hunt you down and kill you, and all the gold in the lost kingdoms won’t be enough for you to hide behind.”
Lord Davian gave a contemptuous laugh. “I’ve lost count of how many people uttered those same sentiments to me in the past.” He cast a look of bemused coolness at her. “All of whom met with an untimely death.”
He rose from the table abruptly. “Our conversation here is over. It is time we returned to the inn. You have your work cut out for you tonight.” He nodded to his soldiers and they downed the last of their ale and got to their feet, gathering up the remaining pies and a pitcher of ale to bring back to the men guarding the stone.
Orlla gestured to Erdhan who was deep in conversation with one of the rough-looking men from the neighboring table. When he realized she was getting ready to leave, he quickly got to his feet. Orlla exchanged a subtle glance with Shanks and he nudged his men to hurry up and finish their ale.
Lord Davian led the way as Orlla, Erdhan, and the soldiers trudged back down the hill to the inn, hugging their cloaks close to their bodies. The night air was brisk after the heat of the tavern, but Orlla preferred it to the stench of body odor and stale ale that they had left behind.
The innkeeper threw them a guarded look on their return. He bade them good night but averted his gaze when Orlla stared at him. She was more convinced than ever that he had bought into whatever scheme Lord Davian had propositioned him with. She climbed the stairs along with Erdhan and the soldiers and waited for Davian to unlock their door.
Crag and the soldier guarding the Onyx looked up eagerly on their arrival.
“Duck pie and ale,” Lord Davian pronounced as the soldiers set the food and drink in front of them. He shot Crag an overly bright smile. “Shanks should be returning any time with the rest of his men.”
Something about the way he hung on the word should didn’t sit well with Orlla. She arched a brow at Erdhan, but he threw her a bewildered look in return. Maybe she was reading too much into every insignificant detail.
“My men and I will return presently. We have business to attend to in town,” Lord Davian announced. Orlla widened her eyes, a protest on her lips, but he turned away ignoring her. He exited the room with the rest of his soldiers, locking the door again behind him.
“Meanwhile, we’re stuck in here like prisoners for the night,” Erdhan grumbled.
“For the stone’s protection,” the soldier growled.
Crag snorted. “So the general says. Where’s he off to now, eh? What business does he have in town at this hour? Keeps a lot of secrets for one who’s sworn allegiance to Skinner.” He lifted the pitcher and took a swig of ale.
A sudden pounding on the door startled them. The mercenary leapt to his feet spewing his drink in every direction as he reached for his sword.
The soldier was the first to the door. “Who goes there?”
“It’s me, Shanks! Open up!”
“The general has the key,” the soldier replied. “Go to your own room.”
Shanks swore loudly, then let out a roar. The door shuddered beneath his powerful kick before splintering at the hinges.
Orlla stared in horror as his blood-splattered body fell through the doorway and cr
umpled at their feet.
Chapter 18
Erdhan and Crag rushed to Shank’s aid, picking him up and carrying him over to the bed.
“What happened?” Crag shot a glance through the open doorway. “Where are the others?”
“Dead,” Shanks groaned, clutching at his side with trembling fingers. “The men at the table next to us in the tavern picked a fight right when we were leaving—they pulled knives on us before we realized what was happening.”
Orlla worked feverishly tearing a pillowcase into strips to use as bandages while Erdhan fetched a bowl of water to wash Shank’s wounds.
The soldier looked on the entire time with a guarded expression that wasn’t lost on Orlla. She couldn’t shake the unsettling thought that he seemed more surprised to see Shanks alive than injured.
“It was a set up,” Shanks muttered, as Orlla gently wrapped the makeshift bandages around the stab wound in his stomach.
“I told you Davian was up to something!” Orlla flashed a condemnatory look at the soldier. “I take it you knew all about this?”
He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting defiantly around the group. Not for the first time, Orlla wished Khor was here. She would give him free rein with the soldier. As if reading her mind, Crag turned and swung a heavy punch at the man, a solid wall of knuckles connecting with the soldier’s temple with a sickening crack, knocking him out cold.
“Liver-bellied traitor!” Crag growled. He threw another darting glance at the door and then dragged the soldier’s motionless body around to the other side of the bed out of sight.
As she dressed the rest of Shank’s less serious wounds, Orlla went over in her mind everything that had transpired. She had suspected Davian would double-cross them, but she hadn’t anticipated him striking before the meeting with the emperor. It seemed a risky move, killing off the mercenaries before he had secured a deal. With fewer men at his disposal, he was more vulnerable and his negotiating power weakened, but knowing Davian’s greed, he was unwilling to divide the coin and soldiers Emperor Narlius had promised to anyone who brought him one of the dragon stones.
Onyx of Darkness_An epic dragon fantasy Page 14
