The Reckoning, page 15
The pain from the gaping wound must have made her clumsy, for she missed his face and hands.
Kaden tore his blade free, and with a broad sweep, severed the dragline suspending the grotesque creature above the void, hurtling it into eternal darkness. At the same time, he leapt for the edge of the narrow beam. One hand caught around the plank, but his legs dangled free above the pit. He started to slip and knew he had to act. Dropping his sword, he threw his other arm up over the beam.
However, his strength spent from battling the spider, his right arm aching profusely from the wound he received from Dannock, and the wrenching from Dannock’s horse on the mountain, all culminated to weaken his grip. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and his breath seemed solidified in his throat. A cold knot of realization formed in his stomach. He knew he did not have the strength to heave himself onto the board.
Then a hand clutched his wrist.
“Let go,” called Hammer. “I will bear your weight.”
Kaden groaned. A burning pain turned his arm to fire, but still, he hesitated. Did the dwarf have the strength? Could Hammer hold him?
“Trust me.”
Kaden’s bad arm lost purchase, and for several heartbeats, he seemed suspended in mid-air.
Hammer caught his second hand and started to drag him up.
The dwarf’s muscles bulged. His face reddened, and sweat beaded his wide forehead, as his strong shoulders strained to take on Kaden’s full weight. Then, with a mighty heave, he swung him up onto the beam.
Kaden lay catching his breath, thanking the gods for his delivery. For someone who did not believe in the gods, he was doing an awful lot of thanking them of late. He glanced up to see Hammer sitting in front of him, grinning.
He breathed deeply and pushed to his knees. “We did it.”
“Yes, my friend, we did it, but now you must leave the beam while I fetch your lady. You are still weak, and the board will not hold the weight of three.”
Kaden looked to where Tannith hung encased in the cocoon of silk, then back to Hammer. “Can you carry her?”
Hammer raised a brow. “I carried you, did I not?”
He nodded and gave Hammer a last studied look before pushing to his feet. He took a few unsteady paces to solid ground, then rounded to watch Hammer closing the gap between him and Tannith.
With deft precision, the dwarf used his hunting knife to slice through the silken shell and release the princess. Catching her as she collapsed into his arms, her face pale, and her body unmoving, he tossed her over his shoulder sack-style and carried her across the board to sanctuary. It was not until he lowered her to the ground and Kaden held her in his arms, that they discovered she held the piece of the Cross clasped firmly in her fist.
Chapter Twelve
Out the window of the tower room, Sernon stared at the indigo clouds thickening in the night sky. He cursed loudly into the silence. Where was Dannock-Shae? He had been missing now for two full moon cycles.
He lifted the crystal decanter of ruby wine, poured a goblet, and swallowed it in one gulp. It tasted bad, as bad as he felt. He should have been pleased. The two main kingdoms were within his grasp. His men had taken most of the smaller forts and outlying villages. Thousands of slaves now worked the richest mines in the land—all belonging to him. He was living in the largest and most luxurious castle in all Tarlis, next to Ellenroh. However, even that prize would soon be his.
A special sacrifice had been planned for the fourteenth day of the fourteenth month of the Year of the Gods. In eight weeks, the moons and stars would be in alignment on the astrological charts, and once more, the gates of the Abyss would be thrown open. All who tried to stop him would be dealt with in accordance.
Soon, all the power, glory, and strength of the Dark Gods would be his! His power would be limitless. He would be as a God—invincible. Only one thing stood in his way—the Cross of Tarlis!
His fingers tightened on the stem of his goblet as a knock sounded at his door. Ruby wine splattered onto the deep Argeasian carpet at his feet. For several heartbeats, he stared down at the stain, then raised his voice and bellowed for the intruder to enter.
A barrel-chested man of indiscriminate age and full red beard stepped into the room and raised three fingers in the salute of the Urakian. The soldier knelt to await leave to speak.
“By the wrath of Arahmin! Do you know what hour it is? What do you want?”
“I am Kraal, Sire—Captain of the Urakian Imperial Army. For these past four seasons, my lieutenant and I have been on a special mission for the High Priest, Dannock—”
“You have news of Dannock-Shae?” Sernon cut him off.
“Yes, my lord.” Kraal hesitated. He had heard stories since entering the castle that this new Lord of the Urakians was quick to anger and easily took offense. “I—”
“Spit it out, man, or I will rip it from your worthless tongue.”
Kraal lowered his eyes. “The news is not pleasant, Sire.”
“I shall be the judge of that.”
Still, Kraal hesitated.
Sernon looked down at the filthy man at his feet. He was sure the warrior was riddled with fleas and lice. He took a step backward, and, as if on cue, the man scratched at his groin.
“Speak!”
****
Kraal, not usually a man to quail before another, reached with a shaky hand into his cloak pocket. He found that for which he sought, made to draw it out, but it slipped from his fingers and rolled across the flagstone floor. Casting a quick glance at the sorcerer’s impatient countenance, he dove after it and managed to grasp it before it slid beneath a gilded chair. He came to his knees and handed it to the sorcerer.
Gingerly, Sernon examined the gold ring. Chunky, with a pale moonstone in its center, the sorcerer recognized it as Dannock-Shae’s. He grasped Kraal by his tunic, all thought of his filth forgotten. With uncommon strength, he dragged him to his feet. “Where did you get this?”
“The priest lives no more, my lord. I have been tracking the Princess of Ellenroh for weeks. Her last tracks led to a hidden valley in the Poniard Ranges. There, we found the mutilated body of the high priest. He was only recognizable by his ring and the cross he bore around his neck.”
Kraal took the cross from his other pocket and handed it to the sorcerer. “The priest’s face was missing, and his innards spilled from his body. Around him lay four more corpses. They were so decomposed and stank so vile, we reasoned they had been there for several weeks. Strange—as Dannock-Shae’s blood was still fresh, as if he’d only died that morning.”
Sernon cursed beneath his breath. “Pity,” was the only word he spoke aloud. “You have done well, Captain.” He dismissed Kraal with a wave of his hand. “Leave me.”
“What are your orders, Sire?”
****
Sernon hesitated and ran his gaze over the man before him. He had the build of a warrior and the look of a hawk about him, keen and strong with just a touch of cruelty about the lips and eyes. Now Dannock was dead, he would need someone he could trust, and this man had proved his worth by reporting the priest’s death. “Clean yourself up,” he ordered. “You stink worse than a black toad on heat. Then take over the training of the conscripts. A battle is brewing, as sure as I sit on the throne of Tarlis. I want my men ready when the time comes.”
Kraal came to attention. “It will be done, Sire.” He saluted and strode from the room, shutting the door behind him.
Sernon held his slender fingers to his throbbing temples. Why did the darn priest have to get himself killed right now when he needed him most? He had received word only that day, the rebels had amassed an army in the hills and were preparing an attack against Wolveryne Castle.
He snatched up his goblet, and it crashed heavily into the gilt-edged portrait of the Wolfhead King hanging on the opposite wall. Wine ran down the painted face, staining it blood red.
Sernon stared at the portrait, transfixed for several heartbeats, then wrenched it from the wall and swung it down over the corner of the oak table dominating the room. The corner of the table protruded through one green eye while the other glared accusingly back at him.
Cold fingers of fear played down his spine. Was it an omen? Was it a sign that his dark gods were deserting him? He lifted a shaky hand and pointed toward the painting. Blue fire sprang from his fingertips, setting the portrait alight. Still, the king’s face stared through the flames. Sernon caught up the burning portrait and hurled it through the nearest window, watching as the fiery spectacle splashed into the moat below. Then he slammed the shutter and collapsed onto the nearest chair.
It would be a long time before he could rid his mind of the accusing green eyes of the Wolfhead King.
****
Kaden and Tannith stood on a wooded hill overlooking the sprawling city of Antibba. The gates were closed. Seven days ago, they had left the Poniard City with a promise from Hammer to rally to their aid should they muster enough men to launch an attack on Sernon. In fact, the young dwarf had almost begged Kaden for the honor to do so. Hammer Deathwielder and his dwarven warriors were itching to prove themselves in real battle.
A great restlessness grew among the young men. Tired of mock battles and the sparring they were forced to undertake to keep fit, they wondered what the use of learning strategies and skills was if they never used them. They yearned to fight in real battles like their ancestors had fought before them.
In honor of slaying the giant arachnid, the great market square lay cleared, and a feast was prepared. Shasnak had long been the bane of the dwarven people. Kaden and Tannith joined in the celebrations for two days, and the cavern had overflowed with feasting and revelry of all kinds.
Tannith watched while the natives of the city danced around a huge fire with wild abandon. She wished she could have given herself over to the music, but her strict upbringing had conditioned her mind against such pursuits.
The women presented her with a long flowing skirt and silk blouse, akin to theirs, in thanks for her part in ridding the Dwarves of Shasnak. She smiled and accepted the gift graciously, grateful for the opportunity to relieve herself of the breeches she had worn since leaving Druh Forest.
She came from her reverie as Kaden touched her arm. “Are you all, right?”
She nodded and peered up as soft rain sifted down from the cobalt clouds overhead. She pulled her cloak more snugly around her shoulders. “What do we do now that the gates are closed?”
“I thought this might happen.” He rolled up one of the field blankets. “Allow me.” He grinned and stuffed the blanket up under her russet tunic to make her look as if she carried a child, then he pulled her cowl close around her face. “Just follow my lead. They probably have our descriptions from here to Lemma. So, keep your face down.”
He took Phoenix’s bridle and led Tannith down the hill to stop before the ironbound gates. Two sentries, high atop the wall, peered down on the travelers.
“Papers,” called one of the soldiers.
Kaden shifted restlessly, feigning cowardliness, imitating the voice of a peasant. “I beg your forgiveness sirs, but my good lady is havin’ trouble birthin.’ She ’as need of a midwife quick, or she’s as good as gone. And she is soaked to the bone from the rain and most likely will catch a fever.”
Tannith cried out and clutched at her swollen abdomen. “The babe is coming!”
“The city is under martial law. No one leaves or enters after dusk unless they have papers.” The dark-haired sentry shaded his eyes from the fading light and struggled to get a clearer view of Tannith.
Kaden removed a brass coin from his pocket and flipped it up to the guard.
The sentry pocketed the coin. “They’re only peasants,” he said to his comrade.
“And we don’t want ‘er dropping no squalling whelp at our feet,” his friend agreed.
The wheel turned above Kaden’s head, and the iron portcullis groaned and lifted. He led the stallion through the gates of Antibba, its great metal-shod hooves ringing out on the black, slick cobblestones as it stepped into the city.
“Halt!” ordered the guard again.
Kaden tensed, his hand slipping to the hilt of his father’s sword concealed beneath his cloak. His eyes remained focused on the ground, not daring to raise his face to the reddish glow of the torch in case recognized. “Aye, what is it?”
“Where did you get that horse? Too grand for one the likes of you.”
“The beast was won in a fair wager,” Kaden called back. “Jockan Deevah, be no thief. The nag be mine by law.” His rough words were met by silence.
The sentry waited for several heartbeats, then slowly lowered the torch, and wound down the portcullis, waving them on.
Along a narrow cobblestone street and around a corner, Kaden led Tannith and the horse. Wending their way into the hushed city, they made sure to stay clear of patrolling sentries. They followed the road until finally, Kaden drew to a halt before a stable. He thumped on the double green doors twice, and the door was eased open to display the face of a small boy. A lad of around ten summers ushered them inside and Tannith slid from the stallion to pull the field blanket from beneath her skirt, tossing it over Phoenix’s rump.
“Thank the gods that is over. I felt like an overstuffed pheasant.”
“I thought it suited you.” Kaden’s intense green eyes met hers across the back of the horse.
****
What would it be like to bear the prince’s son? She wondered. Would he be dark like his father or fair like her? The boy tugged insistently on her arm, interrupting her thoughts.
“My lady, you must go, it is not safe for you to linger—the soldiers. Sometimes they stop here.”
She touched a hand to his head. “You are right, but first, would you care to earn a silver deemah?”
He grinned, showing several white, crooked teeth. “What must I do?”
“Guard this horse with your life and tomorrow you shall have your coin. Agreed?”
The boy nodded, took Phoenix’s reins, and led him into a back stall.
Tannith watched him go uneasily. “Do you think he can be trusted?”
“I would trust the boy with my brother’s kingdom. He is Norvak’s youngest son.” He dropped a small kiss to her forehead, tucked her arm into his, and led her from the stables through a rough, wooden side door. They crossed a narrow alleyway where the prince stopped at an arched door, the sign overhead reading “The Tiger’s Arm.” He knocked, and for several long heartbeats, came naught but brittle silence, then a clatter as the metal shutter slid aside.
“State your business,” came a muffled voice.
****
Kaden hesitated. He had heard the voice of the jovial innkeeper many times and knew it well. This was not he. Yet, in all the time he had known him, none bar Norvak had answered the side door. It was for select customers only.
Kaden palmed his knife. “Stand behind me,” he said in a low voice. “This could be a trap.” He reached back and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “If I say run, run like a demon is on your tail.”
Tannith squeezed his shoulder in reply, and he gave the door another bang.
The voice came again, this time louder. “State your business, or I shall call the watch.”
“Where is Norvak?” Kaden demanded.
The bolt rattled, and the door dragged open. A hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him inside and Tannith followed behind. The door slammed shut.
Kaden could barely believe what he was seeing. Before him stood not the tiger he had left several moons ago, but his brother in human form. “Erik—what the—” Kaden hugged his brother, and they both laughed. Then he released Erik and brought Tannith forward. “Tannith, meet Erik.” He grinned. “The real Erik.”
Tannith was at a loss for words. He was the exact replica of Kaden, or almost. He was minus the scar and a little older, and his hair was yellow gold. “How?” she asked at last, searching Erik’s face.
Erik gave Tannith a gentle hug. “I will explain later. First, come see the others. They feared for your safety.” He led them from the kitchen down a hall into Norvak’s sitting room. There, another surprise awaited them.
A tall, red-haired girl rushed forward, enveloping Tannith in her arms. “We knew you would come,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time. She pushed Tannith to arm’s length, wiping hastily at her tears, but still did not release her.
“Skylah! May the gods be blessed? This is incredible. First, Erik. Now, you. Who wrought this miracle?”
Skylah and Erik looked at each other and laughed. “ ’Tis a long story,” they said in unison, then laughed again.
“I would know it anyway.”
Erik shook his head. “Later.” His tone brooked no argument, but he softened his refusal with a smile as his arm closed possessively around Skylah’s waist.
Tannith had to force herself not to frown.
“We would prefer to hear of your travels,” he said.
“And that you shall, but first I must speak with my friends.”
She glanced across the room to the young man leaning against the hearth. Etan met her inquiring look with a brief shake of his head. Hurt clouded his eyes. She excused herself from the others and made her way toward him. He stepped in to meet her and take her hands, but she ignored them and went straight into his arms, hugging him warmly. “What is going on here?” she whispered in his ear.
“Nothing time will not heal.” He kissed her cheek, then released her to thread her arm through his. “Come, I am sure Ohma is impatient to speak with you. He has done naught but fret over your safety since he last saw you.”
The old Mage stood as they approached, his weathered face breaking into a smile. “My lady.”
Tannith stretched up and kissed his brow. “Well met, old friend.”
He flushed and drew out a chair from the table and waited for her to seat herself, then took the chair opposite. “You look well, my lady, a little paler than I remember, and wet, but…” He smiled. “And your trip…was it profitable?”
