Obsidian Ridge

by Jess Lebow

  He pointed down at the man standing beside the tied princess. “The fat one. That’s Pello Tasca. He’s the only one who’s supposed to be here.”

  Evelyne squinted. “That one there?” She pointed to the same man. “I know him.”

  “How?”

  “He’s the one I crossed.”

  “You’re saying Pello Tasca sent you here, to the Cellar?”

  Evelyne nodded. “A did a job for him and his brother, and when it came time to be paid, they only gave me half of what they promised.”

  “And they sent you here because you were unhappy with their payment?”

  “No,” replied Evelyne. “I got even by burning down their storehouse.”

  “I see,” said Quinn, but he didn’t really. “How did they manage to send you to the Cellar? When you said you crossed someone, I figured it was someone official, not an underworld boss.”

  “When the brother and his men caught up to me, they dragged me to this woman. They called her the Matron. She sent me here. Had some sort of a device.”

  “Right. So the Matron has unfettered access to the Cellar.” It was all starting to make sense now. “That’s how Mariko was sent here. And now the Matron thinks she can run her Elixir operations safely from inside.”

  Quinn watched the activity down below. They all seemed preoccupied with their individual tasks, no one walking patrols or even guarding the entrances.

  That’s when he caught sight of the horned man, and another realization struck—Jallal Tasca.

  It was him. No doubt. Though his beard was gone, his face and body transformed, Quinn could clearly see the resemblance to his brother and to the man he used to be. Jallal was supposed to be dead. Quinn had punctured his neck and had watched him bleed out on the floor of the slaughterhouse. But something or someone had brought him back, and whatever or whoever that was had drastically disfigured the eldest Tasca.

  “Let’s sneak down the side, over in the corner. That’ll get us close to the princess and—” He turned to Evelyne as he spoke. But she was gone, replaced by a pair of Tasca’s burly guards.

  A heavy club hit Quinn in the face, and his vision wavered. He tried to block the second swing with his right gauntlet, but he was not yet use to the lack of blades. The club hit him again, and the world went black.

  A bucket of cold water hit Quinn in the face, and he started awake.

  “Welcome to the Cellar.”

  He had been stripped to his smallclothes and was being held by the arms between two men—the same two he’d seen before being knocked cold. His head throbbed, and one eye was swollen, partially closed.

  “We’ve been expecting you.”

  Shaking the water from his face, he looked up into the grinning, pointed teeth of Jallal Tasca.

  “I thought you were dead,” said Quinn.

  Jallal nodded, a look of fake contemplation on his face. “I hear that a lot.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “What was it that made you finally recognize me?” asked Jallal. “The water?” He slapped the side of the bucket with his hairy palm.

  “When I saw your brother and your Elixir operation here,” said Quinn.

  “Oh this?” taunted Tasca, turning to look at the glass vats as if he’d just realized they were there. “This is just temporary, until we’ve dealt with you and put the king on the payroll.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Jallal. “For you, I was thinking simple torture. Nothing fancy, just some good old fashioned pain, stretched out for our enjoyment.” His eyes revealed his elation. “A little payback for the marks you gave me.”

  Jallal ran his fingers over his neck and the smooth purple scars that had been left by the Claw’s blades.

  “And the king? You can’t bribe him. Your coin and your favors are no good to a man of principles.”

  “Maybe so,” replied Jallal. “But we have his daughter.” He pointed to Quinn’s left.

  On the ground, beside and behind him, sat Princess Mariko, bound and gagged. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and alert.

  “Are you hurt?” He tested the two men holding him, but they were both very strong, and they held him fast.

  Mariko shook her head. She shot a nasty glare at Jallal, which told Quinn the whole story.

  “The king’s not the only one who wants her,” replied Quinn.

  Jallal chuckled. “That’s very sweet. Showing your devotion as you go to your death.”

  Quinn gritted his teeth. “Perhaps you were dead when it arrived, but there is a huge black citadel floating over Llorbauth, and the arch magus inside is demanding that we turn over the princess, or he’ll lay waste to the entire kingdom.”

  “Yes, yes, I’d heard. How unfortunate.”

  “Do you really think the king is going to give you anything in exchange for his daughter? She’s safer down here than she would be with him.”

  Jallal scrubbed his chin. “You see, that’s the beauty of all this. The Matron has already brokered a deal. We help him fight off this Xeries fellow, and he gets his daughter back.”

  “And you get to run your Elixir operations unfettered, is that it?”

  “After we dispose of you, yes.”

  “Well, I guess you’ve thought of everything then.”

  “Indeed, we have.”

  Like every other place in the Cellar, there was more than one way to get inside the carved stone mansion. Lucky for Evelyne, she had noticed this one—just before those guards had arrived.

  Evelyne pressed herself tight up against the cracked stone and looked out onto the courtyard. She could hear voices just off to her left.

  “… how unfortunate.”

  Directly in front of her, a fire raged underneath a strange glass contraption that looked like a giant, see-through centipede. A short, fat man moved back and forth, in and out of her view, magically tending to the fire and casting ice spells on other parts of the centipede.

  Feeling around inside her pouch, Evelyne found the two globes she had taken from Quinn when they had first met.

  “Alchemist’s fire,” she whispered, a smile spreading across her face.

  Slipping out of the cracked stone, she stayed close to the wall and out of sight. Quinn was being held by the two burly men who had knocked him out. The horned man he’d fought in the water cavern was taunting him. The princess was on the ground by his feet, and everyone else was busy working the giant centipedes.

  “Well, I guess you’ve thought of everything then,” said Quinn.

  “Not everything,” whispered Evelyne. She hurled both orbs of alchemist’s fire at the base of the nearest vat.

  The courtyard erupted as the glass broke and the substance inside caught flame. It bubbled and popped, spitting bits of sizzling fire in every direction like an angry adolescent hydra.

  “Whoa,” said Evelyne. “This should be fun.”

  “I’m on fire! I’m on fire!” Pello Tasca ran backward from the ruined Elixir still, his clothes engulfed in flames. His arms flailed, trying to scrape the sticky, burning substance from his exposed flesh.

  “Brother!” Jallal bolted across the courtyard to Pello’s side. Knocking him to the ground, he rolled him in the dirt and beat at the flames with his hands.

  Shouts and confusion filled the courtyard as the other guards came running to help. The Elixir had ignited and was slowly seeping toward the second still, a running river of flame.

  Taking advantage of the moment, Quinn kicked his legs in the air and flipped over backward, breaking the grip of the two men. They went for their swords, but Quinn was quicker.

  “That’s for the club in the face,” he said, punching the first guard square in the jaw.

  The man reeled back from the blow. Quinn followed with a second shot to the gut, which knocked the wind from the guard’s lungs and forced him to double over. Spinning, Quinn shifted his weight and kicked the second guard in the groin, dropping him to his knees.


  “I’ll take that.” Quinn pulled the first guard’s long sword from its sheath.

  With two quick motions, he finished off both men.

  In the center of the carved-stone mansion, the second Elixir distillery exploded, sending another rain of sticky fire out over the underworld guards. Pello, covered in a shroud of orange and yellow light, still screamed and kicked the ground.

  One of the guards noticed Quinn through the confusion and shouted, “They’re escaping!”

  Dropping to his knees, Quinn lodged the tip of his sword in the bonds on Mariko’s wrists and ankles. He yanked, and the ropes fell away. Her hands free, Mariko pulled the gag off of her mouth.

  “I guess this isn’t the time for a warm reunion,” she said, lifting herself off the ground.

  Quinn tossed her his sword, retrieving another from the second fallen guard. “Not quite.”

  That was all they had time for as the rush of the mob came on.

  Quinn and Mariko worked back to back, circling around and beating back advances. They moved as one, never having fought together before but somehow reading each other’s movements. They swirled, swords clanging, metal clashing, the flesh of their enemies cut to ribbons.

  They made quick work of the first half-dozen guards before the third and final Elixir still erupted. Only four guards remained on their feet. Jallal bent over the now-motionless frame of his brother. Their entire operation was up in smoke.

  Standing, Jallal pulled his sword and came right at Quinn. “You killed me once, and now you’ve killed my brother.” He swung wildly as he came on, his words an unearthly growl. “It’s your turn to die.”

  Jallal’s guards scattered, disappearing into the open doorways of the mansion as he pressed the attack. Gone was his calculating, controlled demeanor, replaced by the chaotic machinations of a desperate man, bent on revenge.

  “Watch you bleed! Cut you to pieces! Get my brother back!” shouted Jallal, his eyes shifting madly, burning with hatred.

  Quinn, still in his smallclothes, dodged each swing, giving ground and working his way into the courtyard. Flames burned at his back and he circled, giving the wild man in front of him plenty of room.

  Princess Mariko slipped in behind Jallal, flanking him.

  “Kill you … both!” muttered Jallal, his face turning red. He swung his blade in huge, careless arcs, turning first toward Quinn then back toward Mariko. He grunted and growled, putting everything he had into each swing.

  His blade closed on Mariko, and she had to stutter step to get back in time. Quinn dived into the gap, but the demon-man was quick, and he turned, swinging back. His exotic blade rang as it sliced the tip from Quinn’s long sword.

  “I’m going to take you apart, little by little, and I’m going to enjoy every single slice.” Jallal lunged at Quinn.

  A loud crack and thud echoed off the stone walls, sounding like a pumpkin being cleaved in two. Jallal stopped his attack. His hairy, muscular arms dropped to his side, and he stood up rail straight. A heartbeat later, he fell to the ground, a dagger buried to the hilt in the center of his forehead—right between his horns.

  “Both brothers dead,” said Evelyne, appearing from the shadows. “That’ll teach you to not pay your debts.” She crossed the courtyard to retrieve her dagger from Jallal Tasca’s skull, a smug look on her face. “All that’s left is to get out of here.”

  Mariko spun on the newcomer, raising her sword. “Drop it!” she warned. Her eyes scanned the courtyard, searching for any of the other guards.

  Evelyne put her hand on her hip, examining Mariko but unfazed by the princess’s aggressive stance. “I see now why you’re here, Quinn.” She gave him a devilish smirk. “I’d risk my life for her too.”

  Mariko partially lowered her blade, still on guard. “You know this woman?”

  Quinn nodded, lifting his hand to stay her blade. “It’s all right, Mariko. This is Evelyne. She … lives here. She helped me find you.”

  Evelyne offered her hand to Mariko, stepping in much closer. “A pleasure to meet you, Princess.”

  Reluctantly, Mariko held out her hand. Evelyne bent down and kissed it, caressing the princess’s palm with her fingers.

  Mariko looked at Quinn, but he just shrugged.

  With a small amount of effort, the princess managed to pull back her hand, and she took a step away from Evelyne. “Very well. Then let’s get out of here.”

  Quinn held out his arms, indicating his state of near nakedness. “Not without my things,” he replied.

  Evelyne pointed to one of the open windows looking out onto the courtyard, not taking her eyes off the princess. “It’s in there. I saw the fat one stash it behind the stone facing.”

  Quinn looked at Mariko, waiting to see her reaction. The princess crossed her arms over her chest then nodded. Hurrying to where Evelyne pointed, Quinn stepped through an open stone doorway. True to her word, there, on top of a crate of Elixir, were his armor, robes, and gauntlets. Quickly dressing, he went back out to the princess and Evelyne. The two women stood in silence, looking each other over—Evelyne with an air of satisfied pleasure, Mariko with a bit of confusion.

  As if the dangers of the Cellar weren’t enough, the awkward situation between the two women gave Quinn even more reason to leave this place behind. Flipping over the band on the back of his belt, he retrieved the colorful disk that would grant them passage out of the Cellar. Placing it on the floor, he spun it as he had the first time, almost two days ago. The disk dissolved into a thousand tiny motes of light, consumed by the process, and a shimmering portal appeared.

  “Come, you two,” he said. “It’s time to go.”

  Mariko put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder as he continued dressing.

  “Is it true?” she asked. “What you said to Jallal?”

  “Is what true?” Quinn had finished donning his soft leather armor and was just securing his cloak.

  “That there is a black citadel floating over Llorbauth, and that someone inside it is demanding me as a sacrifice?”

  Quinn stopped in the middle of tying a knot. “Yes.”

  “Is that why you came for me? So my father could trade me to save the kingdom?”

  Quinn glanced over at the glowing magical portal, the words of the king’s warning running through his head. It will not last very long. If you activate it and do not use it, you will be lost, trapped inside the Cellar.

  “We must go,” he said, urging Mariko toward the portal. “We can have this conversation later.”

  “Yeah, have your fight somewhere else,” said Evelyne as she passed the two. “This will get me out of here?” She pointed at the portal.

  “As promised,” said Quinn.

  “You’re a man of your word.” Evelyne shook her head. “Not many of those down here.” Then she stepped through the swirling light and disappeared.

  Mariko crossed her arms, clearly not happy. “I’m not finished with this,” she said, then she too stepped through the portal.

  Quinn let out a sigh. “No,” he said, finally securing his cloak. “I’m sure you’re not.”

  Picking up his gauntlet, he took his turn, leaving behind the Cellar and its inhabitants forever.

  The glowing portal grew smaller with every passing moment. What had once been a large oval, big enough to fit a paladin atop his horse, was now not much larger than a young child.

  From his prone position in the middle of the courtyard, Jallal Tasca rose to his knees. The hole in his forehead where Evelyne’s dagger had punched through was slowly closing.

  Touching the wound with his fingers, Jallal’s lips curled back into a fanged smile. He let out a chuckle that grew into a deep belly laugh, filling the courtyard with the jubilant sounds of an evil man.

  Getting to his feet, he crossed the open space, his hooves crunching dirt and stone. His exotic blade glowed otherworldly, bathed in the magical light of the portal and the fires of the burning Elixir.

  After his first death, he h
ad been reborn, returned to life with new strength and desire. This second death had given him his freedom. He no longer had obligations or obstacles—only wants and needs. Right now, what Jallal Tasca wanted, what he needed, was to get revenge on the Claw.

  Ducking his head, he slipped through the opening, out of the Cellar and back to Erlkazar.

  chapter twenty-six

  The Matron stepped from her private chamber and descended the steps into the meeting room.

  The seats around the heavy wooden table were full. All the underworld’s players were here. She knew what they wanted, and she hated them for it. Weak, impatient, short sighted fools—all of them. Not one had vision. Not one could see beyond the end of the day.

  How was she supposed to take charge of the entire kingdom if her cohorts couldn’t resist reacting like children to every crisis? How could she plot any long-term progress if they were all content with petty theft and minor smuggling?

  Someone had to think about the future, about the underworld’s relationship with the throne. There was coin to be made, lots of it, if only she could complete her alliance with the king. Weaken him, put King Korox in their debt, make him afraid—and then everything they could ever want would be theirs.

  How could they not see it? How could they not understand her taking advantage of this situation? The underworld had his daughter. The kingdom was under the threat of the Obsidian Ridge. The king needed them. They held all the cards, yet these fools wanted to quit the game. They wanted to turn over the princess and be done with it.

  How could they call themselves criminals when they had no nerve?

  “Matron,” said the woman in the spider-silk dress, “the reason we have called this meeting—”

  “I know what it is you want,” she spat. “What I don’t know is how all of you can be so foolish.”

  “It is you who is foolish!” shouted Kleegor from his chair halfway down the middle of the table. The half-orc snorted as he spoke. “You are putting our businesses in danger and risking everything we have built. It is within your power to fix this situation, but you refuse.”

  “Yes, I do refuse,” said the Matron. “This situation, as you call it, has given us the opportunity to solidify our power in this kingdom for the foreseeable future. Yet you would rather suffer the indignation of being bound by King Korox’s unjust laws, milking out what little you can until it becomes too difficult for you to continue.”