by Sam Ferguson
“Not exactly,” Kelden said with a shake of his head. “But, they did kill a couple Kobhir city guards, and a friend of the royal court.”
“Agorian,” the dock manager said.
Kelden shot him a puzzled look.
Seldaric turned to regard the dock manager. “This is Lindeer,” Seldaric said. “He has managed the docks for the last two hundred years, and knows almost every merchant that trades by sea.”
“I see,” Kelden said. “Was Agorian here recently?”
Lindeer nodded and produced his ledger. “He was here just a week ago. He was here for a few days trading goods in the warehouse of course, but he was here for something else too.”
“What is that?” Kelden pressed.
Lindeer shrugged his bony shoulders up to his jaw and held them there for a moment. “I don’t rightly know what it was. He was happy and excited to leave though. Said he had gotten what he had come for. All he showed me was a black metal cube though. It didn’t seem all that extraordinary to me.”
Kelden recalled the cube that the sailors had been inspecting when he boarded the Isabell. “Thanks Lindeer, that is good to know.”
“Take us in,” Seldaric instructed his men. They silently obeyed, rowing them all to shore. Kelden signaled for the Zinferth captain to dock the Zinferth ships.
Loading the goods back into the Isabell went very quickly with over thirty men scurrying back and forth with the crates. A short while later The Isabell was being crewed by Zinferth sailors and en route back to Kobhir. Kelden kept the bodies of the deceased pirates in the hold of his ship. He knew that the queen would want to have the body count confirmed. Kelden presumed that she would want to see the bodies personally.
Kelden was pleased. The ship was recovered, along with the goods. The villains had been brought to justice, although Kelden would have preferred to see them go through the court systems of Kobhir. He also had the cube. He held the cool metal in his hands, turning it this way and that as he inspected it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but after hearing Lindeer speak about how happy Agorian was to have it, he knew this was the item he had been sent to retrieve.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Clouds covered the night sky, blocking the moonlight in Bluewater. Talon kept his hood drawn over his face as he pushed through the throng of elves in the streets. He had not before imagined the elves as night owls. He had always pictured them as stoic and reserved –a product of their extremely long lives. Instead he was walking amongst a jovial, loud, and boisterous crowd.
Drums, flutes, and harps filled the streets with music. Jugglers and stilt-walkers dotted the crowd, calling out as they performed their various tricks. Some of the elves danced, arm in arm in circles around him as he pushed through. Others danced by themselves, clapping with the drums and singing along in their ancient tongue. What surprised Talon more was the fact that had this celebration been in Kobhir, the streets would have literally been flowing with ale and mead, but that was not the case here. Several elves held goblets of wine, but no one appeared drunk.
Talon paused off to the side, next to a large, stone building and watched. It struck him as odd that none of the elves seemed to notice him. Sure, there were other humans in the crowd so his presence shouldn’t have been novel for his race, but it was the fact that no one bothered so much as to glance in his direction that unnerved him. He folded his arms and leaned back against the building as a trio of dancers whirled by. Their slender, toned bodies writhed to the rhythm of the drums as their delicate hands weaved patterns through the air with silken streamers. Their bellies and lower backs were visible below their golden half shirts. Their hips gyrated back and forth, creating waves and ripples through their sheer, baggy red pants. A set of small bells bounced and dangled, adding their own notes to the music as the dancers made their way up the street.
Talon watched the display with more than a little interest. One of the elf dancers turned and locked eyes with him for a moment. Her face appeared young, comparable to a woman in her late teens or early twenties, though Talon knew she was likely several decades older than him, centuries even. Her eyes were neither jade nor azure, but a mix of both with golden flecks sprinkled through. She smiled wide, accentuating the angles of her cheek bones and then she whirled onward. Her long, golden hair flared out behind her as it whipped through the air, revealing her slim, pointed ears. She swung her hips quickly and then extended her leg up into the air above her head, finishing two turns on her right foot before bringing her left leg gracefully back down to the ground, knee bent and foot arched so that only the toes touched. Then she arched backward, with blue silken streamers trailing her wrists and she brought her hands high above her. Just before her head touched the ground, she looked back to Talon again. This time she winked.
Then she straightened and disappeared into the crowd.
Talon smiled faintly. He envied her. He envied all of them. In that moment it seemed that life for an elf was nothing more than a continuation of this celebration. One long dance without caring for the woes of the next day. He marveled that they could have centuries allotted to them in life and yet still devour little moments as though each passing second were a lifetime.
They were not all like the dancer, Talon knew. Some elves were just as devious and power hungry as any human ever was. Talon narrowed his eyes as he thought of the elf sage. Jahre had sins enough to pay for. He also had something that Talon needed. Talon pushed away from the stone building and slipped around it, away from the festivities. It was time to find Jahre.
Talon picked his way through the streets, wandering between houses and other buildings until finally arriving at a less populated area of Bluewater. He could still hear the drums behind him, echoing off the larger buildings in the center of town, but now he was finally free of the crowds and able to operate without creating witnesses.
Talon knew that Jahre was well renowned throughout the realm. He figured anybody in Bluewater could probably tell him where the sage lived. Talon looked around him and smiled as he realized his search was over. A small, elderly lady-elf stood just outside of a small cottage feeding an alley cat. She was stooped over with age, her white hair dangled from her head and her clothes bore witness to the fact that she was poor, and probably alone. The fact that she was skipping the festival, confirmed to the assassin that no one would ask questions if she were to turn up missing for a day or two. Talon approached her with a smile on his face. The old elf turned her head to look up at him. Her orange cat purred loudly as it took the last piece food from her hand.
“Hello miss,” Talon greeted as he threw his arm out in a wide gesture and bowed.
“I am too old to be called miss,” the elf replied.
“I see,” Talon said with a smile. He looked at her face and agreed with her. She was certainly too old to be called ‘miss’ even in a playful tone. Her wrinkles were deep enough that some of them had become discolored. She was ancient, even by elf standards. “Well, let me not waste your time, I am searching for the sage,” Talon explained.
“Aren’t we all,” replied the elf sarcastically.
Talon shot her a puzzled look, which put a smile on the old lady’s face. She let out a small halfhearted laugh as she hobbled back into her cottage. Talon stood there on the street for a few moments. He didn’t know what to make of the encounter.
Talon looked up at the door of the cottage and shook his head. He walked forward and pushed the door open. Its hinges creaked and squeaked, but there was no lock, or even a latch for that matter, to keep it closed. The old elf lady shuffled her feet under herself while she backed her large posterior over a bed of straw and eased downward. Talon slipped inside and pushed the door closed behind him. Since there was no latch it fell open about an inch after he let go. That’s when she looked up at him.
“There is evil in your heart,” she said flatly.
Talon stepped toward her, eyeing the dismal, empty shack with disdain. “Are you not frightened?” Talon asked.
The old elf shook her head. “The evil I sense in you, is not directed at me,” she replied. “I would caution you to turn from your ways, but I doubt you will listen.”
Talon shook his head and sat on the bed next to her. He watched her carefully. Her courage unsettled him somewhat. “I need to know where the sage lives.”
“You intend to kill him?” she asked. The old elf sighed and closed her eyes. “You will not succeed. He is very well guarded.”
“Then, tell me where he is. If you are so sure that he will be safe,” Talon coaxed.
The old elf shook her head. “Life is sacred, my boy. You cannot take it from another without consequence.”
Talon smirked.
The old elf slapped him across the face before he could even so much as blink.
Talon rose from the bed and backed away. “I have killed men for less,” he stated dryly as a hand slipped to his dagger.
“They say the eyes are the windows into the soul,” the lady replied, ignoring Talon’s threat. “Your eyes carry shadows in them.”
“Enough,” Talon said sharply. “Tell me where he is.”
“You are a monster,” the old elf hissed. “You care only for power, I can see it.”
“You are wrong,” Talon bellowed.
“If I were but a century younger I would send you to the abyss,” she cackled.
“Like your kind did to the Sierri’Tai?” Talon quipped. The old elf cringed. “Don’t lecture me about the sanctity of life,” Talon growled. “Your kind banished an entire race into the Netherworld. You, the high and mighty Svetli’Tai condemned your own cousins, elves like you, to a never-ending hell. You had no regard for life then.”
“No,” the old elf replied. “There was no other way to save ourselves,” she countered.
Talon bent low and put his face close enough to feel her hot, torrid breath. “That may be so, but the Sierri’Tai had reason to war with you, did they not?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the old elf replied through teary eyes.
“Yes,” Talon said coolly, “you do. You are old enough to know the truth.” He stood up and reached for a small vial in a pouch on his pocket. “Tell me where the sage lives. His sins and the sins of his family are coming due now.”
“You don’t know what you are doing,” she cried. “You must turn from this path of vengeance. Nothing good will come of it.”
Talon opened the small vial and grabbed the old elf’s hair with his other hand. He jerked her head back and as soon as she opened her mouth to cry out he poured the vial down her gullet. “Now, tell me everything I want to know,” Talon instructed.
The old elf’s eyes went distant and her shoulders slumped. Her head drooped slightly, and she would have fallen over had Talon not been holding her hair. “Jahre lives in a tower, called Scholar’s Keep, three hours from here. Travel by the main road toward Medlas, and then take the unmarked road travelling west. Scholar’s Keep was once a guard tower, but after the banishment of the Sierri’Tai it was turned into a library.”
“How will I know the road if it is unmarked?” Talon asked.
“The road will be the first road after the white obelisk. If you come to the wooden bridge that crosses a babbling brook, then you have gone too far.”
“How many guards are at the sage’s tower?” Talon pressed.
The old elf thought for a moment. “No one knows for sure, but he is guarded by the Svetli’Tai Kruks. They are the best spellswords.
“Spellswords?” Talon repeated. “But I thought the elves agreed to not use magic in order to avoid war with the humans during the Mage Wars?”
The old elf nodded knowingly. “It is a little known fact that while the treaty signed required most elves to cease practicing magic, it allows for select groups to continue. The Svetli’Tai Kruks are one of those groups. They are trained since early childhood. They know no fear, and will not stop until all threats are eradicated.”
He had heard enough. Talon pulled another vial from his belt and opened it. “Open your mouth and drink this,” he instructed. The old elf opened her mouth and tilted up to the vial. “When you wake, you will not remember me, or that anyone was here looking for Jahre. You will remember feeding the cat in the street and then going to sleep. That is all.” The old elf drank from the vial and then her eyes rolled back in her head. Talon laid her back on the bed and returned the empty vials to his belt.
A few moments later Talon exited the little cottage. He now knew where to find Jahre. He made his way south until he came to the main road. He was somewhat surprised to see a tavern just off the main road. A large wooden cutout of a pirate stood at the road, pointing to the tavern with a mischievous grin painted on its face.
Talon could hear the laughter from within. This was not the same type of joviality that he had witnessed in the center of town. This was the drunken, raucous laughter that reminded him of days from his youth when the comfort of drink and drunken strangers seemed to be all he craved from life. Despite the fact that the drink had almost ruled over him as a young man, his craving for the strong liquid tempted him, even now, to go inside. Talon shook his head and fought off the craving for ale. He knew that there was no room for error on this mission. He reasoned with himself that even if he could afford to break his sober streak, there was no wisdom in being seen by others at this crucial juncture. It would be better to stay among the shadows. So Talon decided to walk directly to Scholar’s Keep.
A light rain descended as Talon walked along the main road to Medlas. He didn’t see anyone outside of town, but there were a few houses along the road. He saw that most houses had a light inside, either from a fireplace or some lantern which illuminated their evening activities. Talon had often wondered in his younger years what it would be like to have a family, a home, a regular job, and normal things to do. But those things had been taken from him.
“I will have the scroll, and these elves will pay for their sins,” Talon swore under his breath.
The farther along the road he went, the darker the night became. No light from above penetrated the lush canopy of leaves over him. Even the rain drops could not find their way through to him. He walked for hours, listening to the sounds of the night. He could distinguish most of the noises as non-threatening, such as owls, bats, frogs, and crickets. There was the occasional snap of a twig somewhere in the forest that would put him on edge though. With it being so dark he had no way of knowing if it was simply a deer that he startled as he walked by, or if perhaps something was stalking him from inside the tree line.
Against his better judgment, he decided he needed to make a torch for light. He stepped over to a nearby tree and began kicking around in the dirt. As soon as his toes snagged on a sizeable branch, he stooped over to pick it up. He felt that it was sturdy, dense wood. He smacked it against the tree to test its durability. It clacked against the wood, blasting some of the tree bark onto Talon’s arm, but the branch did not break. Satisfied, he placed the branch against the tree, with the thick end down on the ground. Then he groped around looking for some dry moss. He slid his hands over the tree trunk and around some of the lower hanging branches, but he found nothing.
Talon then went to a small pouch on his belt and pulled his tinder kit out. He wrapped a cloth around the branch’s thick end and then sprinkled a bit of oil on it. No sooner had he grabbed the flint stone than he heard another twig snap. He froze, straining his eyes against the darkness. He dropped the torch back to the ground and his left hand went for the mini crossbow at his belt, but he was not fast enough.
Bushes and leaves rustled and crackled as something emerged toward him. Something large and hairy gripped his shoulder and pummeled him to the ground. The beast growled and gnashed its teeth as Talon struggled with his right forearm pressed into the animal’s throat. A hind leg stepped on Talon’s left shin, pinning his leg to the ground. Talon couldn’t see anything, but judging from the weight he knew the beast must have been massiv
e. Talon wriggled his left arm around, holding the mini crossbow to the beast’s side and fired.
The beast arched back and flung Talon into the tree trunk with its massive paw. Talon absorbed the impact and rolled away. He drew his sword in a flash and held it at the ready.
He could hear it growling and pacing around him. From what he could tell, the crossbow had simply annoyed the thing. It scraped the ground with its paws as it moved around to Talon’s left.
“Come on, demon,” Talon whispered. “Let’s dance.”
The beast responded with a deep, throaty yowl that pierced Talon’s ears. Then, Talon caught a glimpse of two yellow orbs in the darkness. The beast growled again and then scratched the ground in front of it with one paw.
He heard it run toward him. Each footstep dropped to the ground with a thump as it closed in. Then, there were no footsteps. Talon realized it had lunged again. He wheeled around the back of a tree just as the beast slammed into its trunk. It howled out in frustration and swiped at Talon with a massive paw. One of the claws caught his cloak and nearly dragged him to the ground before he wrestled free. Talon countered with a strike of his own and caught flesh with his sword.
The beast hissed and stumbled backward. The two yellow orbs became visible again as the beast growled. Talon knew he wouldn’t be able to finish the fight unless he could see, so he carefully made his way for the torch. He had his flint in his hand and only had to land a spark on the oil to increase his odds.
The footsteps stopped again. Talon rushed for the torch and struck the side of his blade with the flint. A shower of sparks hissed and cackled against the night, but none of them found their mark. A massive blow sent Talon careening end over end down a small hill, and into a thicket of briars that ripped and jabbed at his arms and shoulders. The beast was not far away. It stalked him slowly through the brush.
Talon, tangled in the briars, let go of his sword and reached for the oil in his tinder kit. He opened it quickly and held it in his left hand. Then he used his left pinky finger to hold the flint in his left hand, just under the bottle of oil.
