by Sam Ferguson
The priestess drew a sword of white flame from the air and advanced toward Talon, floating inches above the floor. She spoke another incantation and a wall of air knocked Talon to the ground.
The assassin rolled with the impact, coming up with Drekk’hul in hand just in time to block the priestess’ downward chop. Talon dug his heels into the ground and pressed with all of his strength, pushing the priestess back and giving himself enough room to back step before she could strike again.
Her sword whiffed through the air, sizzling and crackling as its white flames leapt out hungrily for Talon’s flesh.
Talon summoned the fog.
He knew the priestess would be able to easily dispel it, but that was what he wanted. The ploy worked the same as a feinted strike. As the fog erupted around them, the priestess was forced to focus on it, not realizing that Talon’s real strike was yet to come. The assassin whirled in close and slashed Drekk’hul across the priestess’ sword arm. The limb was severed at the elbow, and the burning sword fell to the ground.
The priestess shrieked in pain and horror and teleported several yards back from Talon. Blood gushed from her wound, but only for an instant before a white flame erupted from the opening and gave birth to a new arm.
Talon’s mouth fell open. How could this be? He had never heard of magic like this.
He had no time to ponder this new development. The priestess fired a series of golden bolts at him. Talon jumped and rolled, barely dodging each of the deadly shots. All the while, he was being driven back toward the sealed gate while the priestess advanced toward her sword.
Talon gripped Drekk’hul and summoned the sword’s strength, looking for something more than a simple fog to battle this foe with. A strange, dark energy connected with his mind as he found exactly what he was looking for.
The priestess nearly retrieved her sword when a flurry of purple and black lightning burst out from Drekk’hul’s tip. The assault landed a direct hit on the priestess’ chest, throwing her to the floor.
Talon leapt forward, seizing the advantage. He narrowly dodged another magical bolt as the priestess raised her left hand, and then he drove his sword through her heart. The priestess howled in pain and gasped for air. Seeking to finish the job before his conscience could remind him that he was breaking his one rule, Talon unleashed another burst of lightning while the sword was inside the priestess.
The energy rippled through her. Smoke hissed from her skin as her body convulsed and she let out the most horrid, ear-piercing scream Talon had ever heard.
Then the priestess went limp and still upon the floor.
Talon placed a finger to the vein in her neck, but there was no pulse.
He removed his sword and saw that as before, the sword absorbed the elf’s blood into the blade.
The white flames on the priestess’ sword died out and the sword disappeared. It was over.
Talon rose to his feet and looked down at her. As the light left her body, her silver hair turned brown. Talon couldn’t help but see his mother’s broken body as he looked at this woman. What had he done?
He reasoned with himself that he had no choice. It was either kill or be killed.
That rationale did not settle his soul, nor his stomach.
Talon turned and retched upon the floor several times until his stomach cramped against the dry heaves that bent his body. For the first time in a long while, Talon felt the full weight of guilt sitting upon his soul. Tears came to his eyes, and memories flooded his mind.
He had broken his one rule.
Now he was no better than the demon he hunted.
He pounded his fist on the ground as a strange image came into his mind once more.
He saw a puddle of blood on the ground, with a broken body lying beside it. He looked into the puddle, expecting to see his own face reflected in the scarlet liquid, but instead he saw the great iron mask over Basei’s face staring back at him with fiery eyes.
The reflection laughed, and Talon collapsed upon the ground.
*****
Al stood on the precipice overlooking the plains to the north and took in a deep breath of fresh, mountain air. The dwarf king had been cooped up in meetings and interviews for the last several days. He needed out. The weight of the crown was exactly as crushing as the new dwarf king had anticipated. He had won a great war in the Middle Kingdom, fighting alongside Erik Lokton and Master Lepkin against Tu’luh and his followers. Still, he almost longed to have that danger return, if only for a few days, just so he could remove himself from the trappings of politics within the mountain.
Roegudok Hall was bustling with activity now. There was a lot of restructuring to do. There were vacancies to fill in the court, trade routes that needed to be reestablished, and mining to be started. Al took in another breath of air.
There was also the accident.
He had to settle that, and quickly.
The only problem was he wasn’t sure what to do about it. The dwarves needed someone with more experience. They needed his father back. The dwarf king sighed and turned away from the view. He knew he had stayed out too long already. He needed to return to his duties.
That’s when he saw him.
A stranger standing between Al and the doorway that led back into the mountain.
He wore a green, shimmering robe and carried a long spear. Al was put on edge immediately. How could a human have found him here? The tunnel was a secret that ran straight to this stone balcony from the king’s chambers. No dwarf would be caught dead allowing a human to walk around freely through those areas.
That could only mean one thing.
An assassin.
Al pulled a hidden dagger from inside his robes and held it up. “You won’t find me an easy mark,” Al warned.
The stranger held up his left hand and said, “I am not your enemy. I have come seeking knowledge.” The voice was extremely nasal, which annoyed Al almost as much, or perhaps more than the stranger’s presence.
“The court is where I consult with visitors, after the councilors deem the visitor worth talking to,” Al said, grumbling as much about the process of vetting a visitor in the stuffy court as he was protesting the stranger’s request.
The stranger locked his fierce, blue eyes with Al. For a moment, Al couldn’t move. His mind froze in mid-thought and his muscles remained still and calm as those light blue eyes held him in their trance. Then, a few seconds later, Al was released from the spell, and the stranger was gone.
CHAPTER 10
There was no way for Talon to know how long he had lain there upon the cold stone floor. The acrid smell of vomit mixed with the slightly metallic odor of drying blood. The light in the chamber was beginning to dim and shadows danced around him. He saw the lifeless body of the priestess and had to fight the urge to vomit again.
Talon pushed himself to his feet and sheathed his sword. He pulled the Tomni’Tai scroll out and unrolled it for the first time since having acquired it in Medlas what seemed like an eternity ago. Just as Jahre had said, the scroll was written in Taish runes. Talon smiled wryly as he imagined what might have become of him had he managed to proceed thus far without having died first, and receiving that infernal language lesson from Jahre in the plane of the dead. How strange that his death had brought life to his quest in this moment.
Talon stood before the gate and spoke the spell. “Portti mustiin, portille helvetin, avaa ovet ja paastaa irti nuo kaytava.”
The light behind the barriers turned red. The vines fell away and the columns of stone crumbled. Lightning crossed the portal and thunder ripped through the tunnel with such force that the ground around Talon shook and dust fell from small fissures in the ceiling above.
The red glow cleared to reveal an opening that led to a dark and dismal world. Brown dirt was dotted with jagged spires of black rock reaching for a dusty, reddish brown sky illuminated by a dark crimson sun. Mountains in the distance broke the flat landscape, obscuring Talon’s view to the horizon
many miles away from where he now stood. A strange, not unpleasant odor wafted into the tunnel from the Netherworld. It was a musty scent, mixed with an earthy aroma. As Talon stepped closer to the opening, a geyser erupted a ways off, shooting steaming water into the air followed by intermittent spurts of flame and smoke. It was as foreboding a landscape as any Talon might have conjured up in his mind beforehand.
The only question that remained now was whether the elf back in the city had been correct. Had the Sierri’Tai all died off in this waste, or had they survived?
As if sensing his question, three figures came around from the right and stepped into view. Each of them were wearing a strange suit of armor made from what appeared to be a mixture of leather, scales, and chitin. Gleaming swords hung at their waists, and a bow was slung over one’s shoulder.
Their skin was a dark gray, not unlike the old drow Talon had met in a cave on Svatal Island. Each of them had dark, coarse hair that hung well below their shoulders. Sharply pointed ears jutted out from their hair, and their eyes shone bright with colors uncommonly seen in Terramyr. One had fierce red eyes, another had violet, and the third had a pair of multi-colored eyes that were a mix of violet, green, and orange with specks of white and gold throughout.
The three of them stood silently, as if confused to see a human standing in the open gate. Finally, one of them pointed to Talon’s sword and they all shared a nod.
“Do any of you speak Common Tongue?” Talon asked.
The three of them looked at each other and then back to Talon.
Talon held up Drekk’hul and pointed to the open gate. “I came to release you,” he said. He then pointed to himself and repeated what he said. “I came to release you.” Talon stepped to the portal and held out the Tomni’Tai scroll for the others to examine.
After a few moments, the three of them motioned for Talon to come with them. Talon cautiously stepped through the portal, worried that it might close behind him. Two of the Sierri’Tai elves moved toward the portal and began plying magic to it, widening it and holding it open. Then they drew their swords and stood facing the world of Terramyr.
The third elf, the one with the multi-colored eyes, gestured for Talon to follow. He led him up over a rocky embankment and then they crested over a hill where the gate was situated. Talon saw a massive settlement there.
“Smart,” Talon said to himself. “Place your city close to the gate, but not within view of it. That way you can easily fend off invaders.”
The wall around the city was easily thirty feet high, made of the same black stone that jutted up in jagged spires throughout the land. Guards walked the battlements and there were presumably more in the tall towers at each corner. A few buildings rose above the walls enough to be seen from the hill that Talon walked upon.
They arrived at the gate and a large portcullis was raised as the inner doors swung open. Talon and the quiet drow walked through the gateway. Inside was a roadway of hardened dirt set between short buildings of stone. Seven guards, each dressed in the same strange armor as the one escorting Talon, emerged from the building on the left and inspected Talon. One of them, a wrinkled drow with long, white hair, stepped forward and pointed to the sword.
“You carry Drekk’hul, where did you get it?” His accent was thick, likely from centuries of not practicing Common Tongue, but his words were clear enough for Talon to understand.
“I received it as a gift from another Sierri’Tai warrior, in the tomb of the black dragon.”
The old drow narrowed his sharp, green eyes on Talon and then turned to speak to the others in their language. A murmur rippled through the others and they looked amazed at the old drow’s words.
“I have opened the Netherworld Gate,” Talon said. He held up the Tomni’Tai scroll. “I have come to release you.”
The old drow sniggered. “It is not that simple,” he said in his thick accent. “Some of us wait for the day to return to Terramyr, but the others have made a life for themselves here. Five hundred years is a long time, you know.”
Talon was floored. How could they not want to escape this barren wasteland?
“Come,” the old drow said. “I can take you to our queen. She will decide your fate.”
“My fate?” Talon asked skeptically. “I opened the gate to release you. There isn’t a question about my fate.”
The old drow laughed and nodded as he motioned for Talon to follow him. “Come.”
The two of them walked through the streets, winding through the buildings until they came to a large tower with a square base. The building was ordinary, downright plain by all accounts. Still, it held an aura about it that clued Talon in to the fact that the queen lived within its confines.
There were no guards outside, but once they entered the tower there were several. One sat behind a large desk made from a strange, black wood that Talon did not recognize, reading through a large tome that was tattered and filled with yellowed pages.
Two more stood before the hallway leading out from the ante chamber and into the main hall on the first level. They moved aside when they saw the old drow beside Talon.
As the assassin walked by the guards, he noticed something strange. Normally he would already be calculating how to kill each and every soldier and witness in the tower. Especially with the new information presented to Talon that the queen might be less than willing to assign her army to Talon, he would have been quick to strategize the perfect escape.
However, no such thoughts entered his mind. He couldn’t quite put a finger on what caused the change in him. Perhaps it was Jahre’s visions and lectures about balance. Or, perhaps more likely, it was the guilt that hung over him for killing the priestess. Never had Talon broken his one rule before. It had always been most sacred to him. Now that he had, it was almost as if he had broken a larger portion of himself as well.
Well, he could fix that easily enough for the time being.
Talon pushed the questions out of his mind and forced himself to calculate his best strategies for escape. He pictured how he would kill the guards, and which doors he would use to make his escape. Normally, the exercise would have been grounding for his mind, but now he found it difficult. His skills were still there, he knew, and he could of course bring them out if needed, yet it was like they were inaccessible for the time being.
He had never felt so vulnerable since the day Basei destroyed his home.
His legs mindlessly continued moving him forward as the old drow led him up a gently curving staircase of white and gray stone while he continued to wrestle within his mind. When they reached the third floor, the drow said something to a pair of guards standing before a door. They bowed to him and one of the Sierri’Tai guards opened the door. Talon brought his attention to the present, abandoning the failed mental exercise.
A tall, slender, female Sierri’Tai stood at the end of a long room. Behind her was a throne. It was a simple wooden chair, with the armrests carved into snarling demonic faces and a pair of horns protruding from the top of the high back. The queen was far from plain. She had almond shaped, violet eyes that almost glowed. Her brows were dark and sharp, giving her a slightly intimidating look as she turned her gaze to Talon. Unlike the others he had seen, the queen did not wear the same peculiar armor. Instead, she wore a long dress of brown leather. It almost resembled crocodile skin, with bumps and cracks that mimicked scales but still flowed effortlessly with her movements. Her figure was shapely, with sharp curves accentuating her hips. Long, black hair tumbled down over her back, and a thin band of gold spanned across her head for a crown, with a large, red jewel set in the center.
She did not wait for Talon to cross the room to her. She approached as soon as she spied the sword he carried. She wore no expression on her face. Her ruby lips were straight, giving no hint as to what she might be feeling at the sight of the late king’s sword.
“Bow,” the drow whispered as he stopped walking and bent deeply.
Talon offered only a slight
nod of his head. He was not here presenting himself as a subject, but a lord. He placed a hand gently on the top of Drekk’hul’s hilt. “I have opened the gate,” Talon said.
The queen nodded and came close to inspect the sword. “Am I to understand that you are proclaiming yourself king?” she asked pointedly.
Talon could sense the danger in her tone. His instincts came back to him then and he scanned the room using his peripheral vision and a quick flick of his eyes beyond her. In that moment, he counted seven others in the room with them, hidden in the shadows. He decided to choose his words carefully.
“Does it not please you to have the gate opened?” Talon asked.
The queen cracked the slightest of grins and reached a finger out to trace her fingernail across Talon’s chest. “What does a mixed-blood like yourself want?” she asked. “Is it power? Glory?” She glanced down to the sword. “Or does the sword control the master?”
Talon was surprised to hear her refer to the curse that had once been upon the weapon, but he did not let that show. “I control the sword, and the voice it once had has been silenced.”
Now it was the queen who was surprised. She tilted her head to the side and pulled her hand back from Talon quickly, as if he had suddenly become a hot stove and threatened to burn her finger. She regained her composure quickly and turned to the old drow that had led Talon into the tower.
“Leave us, Ferrick,” she said.
The old drow bowed again and turned to exit the chamber. The door closed behind him.
“He is one of the few remaining warriors from the time before we came here,” the queen said. “You are fortunate that he was at the gate today when you arrived. Most of the others do not speak Common Tongue. It was a needless skill that we abandoned quickly after our arrival.”
“Yet you speak it well,” Talon offered, trying to build rapport with her.
