Jikun consulted with Sellemar regarding the secret True Blood tunnels. The information led Jikun to believe that they had finally found a way to corner and defeat the warlord.
Sellemar returned his attention to the council. Informed of his intent to reveal their crimes, the council made a grave miscalculation and sent the assassin to murder the warrior. Sellemar easily dispatched the human and threw his body into the canyon.
Meanwhile at Elarium, Jikun found Saebellus’ troops pinched between him and the city. After a careful scouting of the area, Jikun’s army rained down upon Saebellus’ seemingly unsuspecting troops.
However, a large faction of Saebellus’ army—soldiers Jikun believed to still be at the defense of Horiembrig—appeared suddenly and inexplicably from the previously scouted hillsides: leaving Jikun surrounded. Saebellus had formerly used the magic to vanish after every defeat, yet never once—in all their battles—had he chosen to demonstrate its power to appear. Stunned and unprepared, Jikun’s troops were utterly defeated.
Finding Jikun terrified on the battlefield, Captain Navon ordered his general to flee. When he discovered that Jikun was severely wounded, he pulled him from the bloodbath. Together they fled across the Windari Channel toward the human continent of Ryekarayn.
Hairem received news of Jikun’s defeat, yet he remained hopeful of Elvorium’s success. He turned to Ilsevel for comfort—and she drew him close and slit his throat.
Hairem’s mute handmaiden, Alvena, witnessed the murder—a fact made known instantly to Ilsevel when Alvena, horrorstruck, burst into the room where Hairem lay dying.
Alvena immediately fled and escaped the palace with the help of Erallus and the head servant, Lardol. She was taken to Sellemar’s estate where he revealed yet another True Blood tunnel. With Sellemar’s letter promising safe passage in hand, she travelled through, intent on reaching the True Bloods on Ryekarayn.
Knowing Erallus would never ascend the throne, and with the heir’s compliance, Sellemar turned the former guard over to Ilsevel in order to gain her favor.
Days later, Saebellus arrived to the bridge of the capital. The council feared for its own safety and threw wide the gates for his arrival. Saebellus then gave the council an ultimatum: Ilsevel would marry him and make him king, or he would war with Elvorium and kill them all. Ilsevel feigned distress and accepted his terms in order to “save the people.”
They were immediately wed and Saebellus was crowned King of Sevrigel.
The shroud of benevolence cast aside, Ilsevel’s first act was to murder her father for his secret assassination of her brother, a male who had nearly tarnished their family name when he joined Saebellus’ cause. She then informed the council that “the reign of kings has returned.”
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
PROLOGUE
The human drew closer, his body growing to fill the empty street with his every step. His breath was audible, heavy and thick, as though his lungs strained to expand within his hulking chest. Another boot thudded across the frozen earth—to Jikun’s tensed ears, it fell like a distant toll of thunder, heralding the coming of a treacherous storm.
Jikun hovered one hand above the hilt of his sword while he lifted his other slightly in the air. He felt the faint tingle of ice, dull and throbbing, as it flitted across his fingertips.
A whisper of fabric grazed his skin, and he was abruptly aware of Navon’ s presence at his side. The Helven’s pale face was shrouded in shadows, hollow and sunken in the dim moonlight. “Jikun, turn away from this,” he pleaded. “The hour is not yet late—we can join the war and stop Saebellus! Do not let your pride destroy you!”
Their Sel’ven companion seized Navon by the shoulder, shoving the coward back into the darkness.
“Silence!” Jikun hissed again. The brand marking him as cattle seared across his arm in a reminder of the degradation of his current path. Pathetic.
The time for speech was at an end. Borin had reached the alley.
Jikun’s fingers spread above the barren earth and a shaft of ice erupted from beneath, raining dirt and stone as it slammed into Borin’s side and hurled the half-giant into the alleyway. Despite the speed and force with which he had been thrown, the man let out no more than a grunt as he careened past their bodies and sprawled into the dust.
“Be still!” Jikun snarled, sprinting forward. Cold water pulled from the soil and hardened, piercing the air to halt a hair’s width from Borin’s chest. Here, in the shadows of the alley, they were nigh-invisible daggers—poised to strike at the human’s slightest movement.
As though grasping his situation for the first time, Borin’s head jerked wildly up and around, absorbing the three elves surrounding him. His broad hand fell slowly to his side. “…What is this?” he growled as the silence settled. “An ambush?”
“Gods show mercy,” Navon seethed. “We should walk away from this!”
Jikun stiffened and threw his shoulders back.
“Yes, this is an ambush,” the Sel’ven interjected smoothly.
Jikun dislodged his captain’s admonishment with a defiant strut forward; a crackle of ice glittered into being, forming a short barrier between the immense arms and Jikun’s polished boots. “I want the information you withheld concerning Relstavum. And if I should find it less than I desire…” The ice lengthened and caressed the weathered leather strapped across the giant’s breast.
Borin’s nostrils flared. With startling speed, his fist flew outward, shattering the ice as though it were merely glass. He snagged the hem of Jikun’s cloak, tearing it from his tall, lean frame.
“WHO?!” Then Borin’s eyes widened with incredulous recognition. “I know who you are,” he spat, flinging the cloak aside as Jikun hastened to restore his dominance upon the man. “You’re the greedy elves from earlier today—the war criminals who figured they’d poke Balior with a stick. Twenty thousand in debt, aren’t you? Malranus’ fire could not have burned you more thoroughly.” He laughed then, a mocking, hollow laugh, as though the bodily threat to him—gleaming a mere fraction away—was gone. “You failed to defeat Saebellus with an army and now you want to face his forces without one? Relstavum is the man’s beast.” His laugh intensified, threatening to reach Emal’drathar to mock Jikun with the gods.
But Relstavum was not Saebellus’ Beast.
He was far worse.
“Silence!” Ji
kun snarled, the spears of ice diving through the man’s rich clothes to prod beneath his bronze-hued flesh. He snatched his cloak from the earth, aware of the soft, white rays that exposed his unique features. It was too late to withdraw—he was too deep along his path. “I won’t ask kindly again, human,” he growled.
The Sel’ven gave a sharp, encouraging nod. Do not forget what brought us to this place, it said. He leaned forward, flicking a piece of rubble casually from Borin’s shaven crown. “Answer the question, Borin,” he repeated. The smooth nail left a streak across the silver stubble.
“You’re fucking mad,” the man swore, and the ice crackled once in warning. “Mad—!” But Borin’s howls subsided, his chest quavering as it attempted to retract from the perilous daggers. “Your warlord has created an army within a single man: Relstavum is soul harnessing, though I’m certain none of you god-damn fools has any idea what in the Nine Realms that is. But you should know who Tiras is; Relstavum has Tiras’ necromantic writings from Vise and he can use them. You can’t have the mission because it’s beyond your fucking abilities. Laeris has invested too much money in you to throw you to Saebellus’ dog! Right now, there isn’t a mercenary company alive that can contend with his might—and the man is only growing more dangerous. This is a matter for kings and armies! By Malranus Almighty, Relstavum levels god-damn cities.”
The Sel’ven lurched forward without warning, slamming his foot against the slick ice bearing down upon the giant’s shoulder. His hair had unraveled from its elegant braid, the strands swirling about his contorted lips. “And if this man continues to breathe, he will cost my brother his life and Aersadore her freedom. So I’ll ask you one more time, human!”
The ice prickled as Jikun adjured, “Now, Borin!”
The half-giant bared his massive, grey teeth, etching a meager show of defiance across his insolent face. “You want to get yourself killed?—fine, elf,” he jeered. “Relstavum was in Ironwatch two days ago, heading north. But you’d better vanish into the nearest god-damn mountains, because when I’m free of this, the Brotherhood will send mercenaries to hang you by your entrails whether or not you succeed. Who in the Brotherhood did you think you were questioning?” His voice was rising in fury and Jikun could almost feel the sound penetrating the nearby walls. “I’m not a god-damn commoner. I’m not a god-damn mercenary. I’m—”
‘Laeris’ Sword…’ Jikun stilled, mind whirling at these new threats. His feet felt leaden, weighing him inescapably to the frosty earth. He had considered the torture. The necessity of using force to extract the withheld information. Even how the gargantuan man might retaliate with his own might. But Jikun had not reflected upon the others that existed beneath Borin’s whip. How could he have forgotten that?
‘You’re slipping, Jikun.’
Borin’s voice was mounting to a roar, now. “—Geldin Laeris’ elite. I control every damn mercenary you could ever think to know. I have seen your face. I know your kind. If you think Relstavum is your enemy… You just opened the god-damn Gates. You won’t get two cities from here before the Brotherhood will have blades in your back!”
Jikun’s knees threatened to betray him and he clutched at the cloak in his pale hands.
“Even without our brand, your appearance is blood in the snow! If you think we won’t find you before dawn, you—”
Navon interrupted with a vociferous cry. “Jikun, I advised you against this! Soul-harnessing?! Join the king’s war—by Ramul, you are a soldier! Release him now and perhaps we can bart—”
Borin laughed, the sound a cavernous boom that rattled the icicles dangling from the nearby wooden eaves. “Barter? There is no bartering, elf! You will be lucky to die by Relstavum! The Brotherhood will hunt you down and we will rip retribution from your bones until your screams deafen the god—” His voice strangled off with a soft gurgle.
There was a suffocating silence. Navon uttered a choking gasp.
From the midst of the chunks of ice and earthen debris, the man’s fist tightened once and then fell limp.
Jikun stared blankly at the daggers that had ruptured through the hulking human… that had pierced through his vital organs and crushed his burly throat.
Jikun’s palm opened and the ice melted away, leaving the man sprawled across the earth.
With a casual hop, the Sel’ven freed himself from the proximity of the encroaching sludge. “…Well done. We have what we need.”
“Jikun, by Sel’ari, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” Navon finally managed to scream, his azure eyes wide with horror. He sprinted toward the corpse, as though there remained some hope that the human had endured. That he might yet be saved.
But Borin was dead.
His sacrifice was necessary.
This was Jikun’s last chance to abolish Saebellus’ tyranny before Ryekarayn was lost. And Sevrigel forever with her.
CHAPTER ONE
41 Days Earlier
A fire of red and orange ignited the western sky where the sun had descended below the horizon. Her flames seemed to lick the darkness that followed in her wake, bathing the underbellies of the clouds that had rolled in from the north. They were lighter now, their great weight of snow dropped on the mountain peaks in Arisfare—the continent’s first snowfall of the winter. They would carry on to the south, relinquishing what remained as heavy showers. Then, as they reached the base of the Aenid Mountains on the edge of the Makataj Desert, they would fade entirely.
Into that sky’s darkness, a great, winged silhouette rose above the Sel’varian Forest with two figures hunkered against its spine. Below them, upon the bed of an empty room, only the elegant handwriting on fresh parchment remained in explanation.
My dear father and brother,
I have seen the enemy swell in number these last few weeks, but today I have witnessed its effect upon my very blood. Darcarus’ wound at the hands of these villains has opened my eyes, and I have realized we can no longer protect even those of our own royal family.
I am no fool. I am aware of the years Relstavum has labored to build a force that could contest with us. That would even dare to do so. Nor am I blind to Relstavum’s ability to devastate this continent by his own hand.
We can no longer turn aside from the evil spreading in our land! In shunning the truth of our necessity to act, we have allowed Sevrigel to fall. What her people have tasted in defeat, we soon shall share. And while the conflict at our gates may be designed merely to lead us from the source of its command, its attacks shall cripple us all the same.
Thus, it is with clear conscience that I have resolved to act before more blood is spilt. I shall not let the land of our brethren be lost!
I urge you to join me. Sevrigel will never rebel against Saebellus to save herself, but behind your towering walls, you are not helpless: urge the humans’ king to intervene. Or please, Father, break your stringent vow to never return, for the people are in dire need: end the separation between our worlds with our own military strength.
If you forbid Sairel to lead the force, Darcarus or I would gladly stand in his stead.
By the time this letter finds you, Darcarus and I shall be long gone. Do not fear for my safety for it is you I shall fret over every night. I shall miss you dearly.
Hadoream
Yet the dancers below the vanishing trio were wholly unaware of the farewell. Surrounding their flittering feet, a quick and jovial tune persisted, eloping with the cool breeze of the evening. It wound its way across the bustling gardens beyond where the dancers swept across the cobblestones and twisted about the gleaming fountain. The warm, yellow light of the garden orbs seemed to bob along with the melody, stretching and shrinking their merry shadows.
From the palace’s tower high above them, King Sairel unfurled a small scroll of parchment, scrutinizing the tiny scribbles scrawled haphazardly across the page. His lips drew tight as he noted the dwarven seal embedded neatly at the bottom: the only legible mark on the page. He dropped it irritably to his left, licking his in
dex finger to pull the next ivory sheet from the stack.
There was no time for gaiety and childish tunes. And yet, before he had the opportunity to dissect further legal contents, music drifted in from the courtyard below, determined to contaminate his quiet abode.
“‘Dance!’ cried the prince.
‘I’ll dance!’ cried the tree,
And it danced and it cried
To the music’s melody.”
Sairel squinted irritably at the notice in his hands. Only when he had nearly blocked the ruckus out did a song seem to sweep all the more forcefully into the warm air of his vast office. And these words, imparted in the Common Tongue, grated with particular affliction upon his ears.
“A terrible, terrible, terrible lie.
As the mad king lives,
His people die.”
Sairel rubbed a hand against his twitching eye and slid his chair back forcefully. The fire in the corner sparked, cracking as it bit into the newest log and showering the fireplace with orange, mutually annoyed sparks. ‘They are going to give me an ulcer…’ Why ever the humans had contrived a nursery rhyme out of the slaughter of Sevrigel’s Farvian people across the channel, he could not fathom. He stalked to the door of his study, pushing it open a crack.
The guard before him turned quickly at attention. “Is there something wrong, Your Majesty?”
“No.” Sairel waved a hand dismissively. “Just order them to cease those dreadful human… songs, if that is what they indeed are.”
The guard hesitated, sliding his palm anxiously across his helmet. “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s the human’s Winter Festival in the capital. Veacerel took the servants out today to see it. It—”
Sairel heaved a sigh, muttering below his breath. ‘Sometimes Veacerel panders to the servants as though he may one day end up as one… Which he shall do if I keep hearing this song!’ he thought sourly. “Never mind, let them carry on. Someone should at least enjoy themselves while I labor.” He closed the door before the guard’s opening mouth, stepping briskly across the room to the balcony. He shut those doors as well, relieved that the melody was reduced to a low hum outside the thick glass.
Heroes or Thieves (Steps of Power 2) Page 2
