Questing Sucks! Book II (26 page)

Cah’lia’s eyes moistened. Then a tear fell from her eye. She frowned and wiped it away. “Shit,” she muttered—it was the first time Sehn could ever recall hearing her use profane language. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“What’s wrong, Cah’lia?”

“I just broke a very personal and important promise.”

“A promise to who?”

“To myself! I promised I would never cry again. Not until…” She looked at him, and Sehn could see all the sadness in the world reflected back at him through her eyes. “I lied to you, Sehn. I lied right to your face. Not long ago, I told you that you had a cold, back when you were in so much pain you could barely walk. But that was all a lie. There’s something you don’t know. Something…something no one wants to tell you. Sehn, you have a—”

Sehn pressed his finger against her lips, silencing her. “I know.”

Surprise replaced the sadness in her eyes. “You…you know?”

“The curse,” Sehn muttered, “I know all about it.”

“You do? I mean…you do! But how? Who told you? How long have you known? When did you first find—”

Sehn again silenced her with his finger. “None of that matters, because I’m not going to die.”

She turned her face away to free her lips. “What do you mean? Patrick told me all about it. He said when you turn twenty-first seasoned, you’ll…you’ll pass away.”

“Patrick can suck my balls,” Sehn growled. “Because nothing can kill the Great Sehn. Not even some curse from the Gods themselves. I will win, Cah’lia. If the Gods mean to take my life, they can come get it themselves. They will taste the Great Sehn’s power and flee back to the heavens.”

Sehn heard the sound of someone clapping their hands together behind him. He turned around and spotted Orellia with a broad smile on her lips. “Now that’s the spirit, Sehn,” she said. “I overheard your conversation with Cah’lia, and I truly believe that, with an attitude like that, you will find you’re able to—”

“
Remmos Salas
!
”

Cah’lia, Shina, and even Kellar gasped as a fireball left Sehn’s hand at a blinding speed and headed straight for Orellia’s face. She made an “Eee!” sound that resembled a cross between a hiss and shriek, and then, eyes widened, she quickly shouted something. An instant before the fireball hit her, it vanished against a purple wall of dull, transparent light.

“Are you crazy?” Shina shouted, running to her mistress’s side. Orellia looked back and forth between Sehn and Cah’lia, confusion plain on her face. Her lips were drawn in a horrified expression.

“Why would you do that?” Orellia asked. “Have you gone mad, Sehn?”

Sehn snarled at Orellia and then shook his finger at her. “How dare you eavesdrop on the Great Sehn!” he roared. “Foolish mage woman, I have thrown mortals into volcanoes for less!”

“I meant no disrespect,” Orellia said. “I was merely wishing to congratulate you on your—”

“Silence! No one listens to my conversations and gets away with it. Get on all fours—now!”

Orellia’s mouth contorted in outrage. “Excuse me, elf?”

“You heard me. Get on all fours, right now. My feet hurt, and I’ve just decided to turn you into my own personal steed and ride you the rest of the way to Hahl. From here on out, you shall no longer be known as Orellia, but as Fluffles, the horse!”

Orellia gritted her teeth; Sehn didn’t take her for the type to display her anger so openly, so he must have really struck a nerve. Before she said a word, Cah’lia slapped him on the back of the head.

“Sehn! I thought you said you’ve changed your ways.”

“I have, Cah’lia. But only to you—so get used to it. This woman eavesdropped on my conversation, and now she must pay.”

“Leave Orellia alone,” Cah’lia demanded. “Here’s your chance to prove you meant what you said about giving me anything I wanted.”

Sehn frowned. “That’s abusing your new power.”

“Well, it’s mine to abuse, isn’t it?”

Sehn swore under his breath. “Very well.” Before he turned back around, he gave a sharp look to Orellia. “Let this be a lesson, mage-fool. Should the Great Sehn ever catch you eavesdropping again, I shall personally cut the tail off a horse and then glue it to your ass!”

“Sehn!” Shina shouted. “That is
so
disrespectful.”

Sehn scowled at his sister then made his evilest laugh. “Good. I don’t care. And do you know why, little sister?”

Shina clearly didn’t expect the question, because the anger drained from her face. “
Wh-
why?”

“Because for the first time in my life, I know who I want to be.”

Shina regarded him for a moment before asking, “And who is that?”

“A God who doesn’t take shit from anyone…except Cah’lia.” With a renewed sense of purpose, Sehn about-faced and marched up to Cah’lia. He scooped her up like the prize she was, cradling her in his arms. Then, ignoring Orellia and his little sister’s outraged threats, he continued his journey towards Hahl at a run, all while Cah’lia yelped in confusion but strangely did not ask to be put down.

I suppose I’m not so worn out after all
.

The constant walking from one end of Hahl to the other put a painful strain on Patrick’s knees. For the past four hours, he’d marched from the city’s eastern and western gates in search of the abducted child. But even as he panted, his steps were determined and filled with purpose. He was angry. How dare someone attack one of his guests in his own city?

Patrick was sure the boy couldn’t have left Hahl or gone far. It hadn’t been long since he’d been taken; Patrick knew this because he’d been sitting at his desk, working, when the Champion had burst into the room, informing him of what had taken place. He’d sprung into action without sparing a single moment’s hesitation, and the city had been sealed off; soldiers now took up positions around all the gates. No one was getting in or out. Dead or alive, the elven boy, Nero, was still inside this city, and Patrick was intent on finding him.

He glanced uneasily over his shoulder at the Champion, who didn’t appear fatigued from all the marching. The large man with the catlike eyes walked with confident, powerful strides behind Patrick, while six armed guards fell in line, three to each of Patrick’s sides.

“My prince,” one of them said. He was a man of middle age with receding grey hair, who served as captain of the eastern gates.

“Yes?” Patrick asked.

“We’ve got our people scouring every street and alley in Hahl. I don’t think we’re going to find the boy out here.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Patrick halted and refrained from gripping his hair in frustration. “You think we should just
give up
?”

“No, sir.” The guard looked Patrick directly in the eyes. “I think we need to start checking the buildings. Whoever took him is not on the streets, and assuming we stopped them from leaving the city, they’re not likely to be out here. They’ll wait until we open Hahl back up before showing themselves.”

Patrick swore under his breath. “I agree. But we can’t just go barging into people’s homes. Not since my great grandfather has any Kingdom soldier unlawfully stormed a citizen’s home without due cause.”

“Then I’m afraid we’re out of options.”

Patrick held up a finger. “Not quite. We can still check the inns, eateries, and the other public buildings. Go tell your men to start sweeping anything we can enter without raising too much of a fuss. I’ll keep on looking from the outside. Oh, and take the men with you; I wish to remain alone with the Champion.”

The guard saluted and hurried off on Patrick’s errand, the others following behind. As they hurried down a wide street then disappeared behind the next, Patrick remained in place a moment to catch his breath. He knew the worst thing he could do was allow panic to cloud his judgment, but as his mind raced with all the disastrous ways things could turn out, he felt sweat slide down his forehead and his hands became clammy.

He stood alone with the Champion in a slightly wider than typical street, which served as an express road cutting through Hahl; wagons filled with cargo and food could find an easier time traversing Hahl through this path, especially during peak business hours. Inns, tailors, and other commercial outlets took up most of the space on both sides of the street, but a few smaller homes could be seen between the larger commercial structures.

Patrick ran a hand through his hair. “What are we going to do?”

“The only thing we can,” the Champion whispered. “We must find the child. We both promised the elven girl…we would keep the children safe.”

After Patrick had learned of the boy’s abduction, he’d ordered a full retinue of guards to watch over Rina, ensuring that nothing happened to the girl while he and the Champion attempted to recover Nero. Though Patrick grew sick at the idea of any harm coming to the boy, he was mostly concerned with the leverage such a hostage would hold over Sehn and Cah’lia.

I know those two
.
They won’t be able to resist surrendering—not if the Hawk threatens the boy’s life
.
If we don’t get Nero back
,
Sehn will fall into their hands
.

Patrick grabbed the sword resting in its scabbard at his side. If it came down to it, he would use any means necessary to get Sehn to the Kingdom’s Pillar of Light: even if it meant cutting off the elf’s legs and having him dragged.

Anything for my people
.

“Come,” the Champion whispered. “We’re wasting our time standing around. I…I need to get that boy back for my master.”

Patrick nodded. “I agree. Let’s keep searching.”

As Nero looked around the dark, dungeon-like cellar on the lowest level of a dingy inn, he resisted the temptation to cry. He needed to be a big boy now—no more kiddie stuff. He was the Great Sehn’s number one disciple, after all.

Yet as he looked at the man who abducted him or the five, black-clad men with him, Nero trembled and his legs buckled. He fell into a sitting position and then scooted backwards into a cold, damp wall.

The man whom Nero took to be in charge looked like he might have once been human: he was overly pale, his eyes were unnaturally reddened, and when he spoke, Nero could see that his tongue was forked. After the black-robed men had seized Nero, they’d brought him here, which was where he’d first met this ugly man. That was close to a day ago, and in that time the hideous man had spoken very little. Now, he slowly lowered his hand to his side and then removed a dagger from his trousers.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he said, lifting the blade to his mouth. Nero watched in a mix of revulsion and terror as his tongue slid over the steel. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

“D-dreamt of what?” Nero asked. “Who are you?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter as much as who I was. I was once known as Commander Ghell. But now? Now I’m just one of the Hawk’s servants.”

“Oh yeah? Well, umm…I’m a servant too, ya know?”

“Is that so?”

Nero nodded; his voice swelled with pride. “I’m a servant of the Great Sehn. And unless you wanna be fireballed into a lump of coal, I think you should let me go, you…you ugly, stupid man! ‘
Cause
if you don’t then I’ll tell my sister on you.”

Ghell flinched. “
Your…
sister?” His eyes widened and a maniacal grin spread across his lips. “Cah’lia,” he said. Nero wasn’t sure how he knew her name. “That wench is the reason I’m like this. Did you know that?”

Nero stuck his tongue out at the man. “Nah-uh. And I don’t care, either. Let me go!”

The man, Ghell, began taking slow steps towards him. “Or what?”

Nero tried to retreat, but he already had his back to the wall. So instead, he gathered his courage and stood back up to his feet. Then he forced moisture into his mouth. “Or else I’ll…I’ll use my magic on you!”

Ghell laughed. “You can use magic, little boy?”

“Yeah!”

“Why don’t you try it, then?”

Nero extended his palm. This idiot was asking for it. “Maybe I will.
Remmos Salas
!
”

Nero winced as a terrible burning pain spread over the palm of his hand; it felt as if the skin would melt off the bone. The dark room lit up as a ball of fire formed in the area around his hand then soared at Ghell, who remained perfectly still.

For a brief instant, Nero thought his fireball would crash into the ugly man’s face and hopefully take his head off. But at the last moment, one of the black-robed men disappeared into a puff of smoke and then reappeared in front of Ghell; the transition was so fast that the black-clad man reappeared before the image of him had fully disappeared across the room. Instead of striking Ghell, Nero’s fireball connected with this dark figure. The moment it touched the black robes, the ball of fire “flickered” out like a candle, leaving not even a trace of smoke in its wake.

Nero seized his scorched hand, tears from both the pain and the fear beginning to form in his eyes. “Who are you people?” he yelled again. “What do you want from me?”

Ghell pushed the black-robed man aside and then approached close enough so that Nero could smell him. Never had he smelled anything so awful—not even Rillith’s underarms compared to the rotten stench the man exuded.

“What do I want?” Ghell asked. He grabbed Nero’s neck with one hand, and Nero tensed as the hand holding the dagger came to within an inch of his eye. “I want to hear you scream, boy. I want to know that I’ve caused the same misery to your sister and your elven friend as they’ve caused to me.” He grinned, and Nero found he could no longer be brave. He began to weep.

“Please,” he begged. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I’m going to hurt you, all right,” Ghell said. “Now, which of your eyes should I cut out first, boy?”

Nero choked as his mind registered the man’s words. The fear paralyzed him, and he was unable to speak.

“I know,” Ghell said. “Let’s start with the right one.”

Nero sobbed as the knife came close enough to his right eye that he could no longer focus on the point of the blade. He wished he could disappear like the black-robed men; he wished that he were anywhere but here. How much would this hurt? Why was this even happening to him?

Just as Nero felt a slight tickle as the knife caused his eyelash to flutter, the sound of a door bursting open echoed from the entrance to the inn’s cellar. Ghell growled and whirled around, removing the blade from Nero’s face.

“Stop this, Ghell,” a voice said.

Nero, shaking in terror, turned to look at the source of the voice. An old man entered the cellar, carrying a staff. He had a long, dirty beard, and even from across the room Nero could smell the same reek on him as he could on Ghell—only worse.

“Who are you?” Ghell asked. “And why are you interrupting me?” The five black-clad men with Ghell drew their blades and turned in the direction of the intruder. “Also, how do you know my name?”

“Because I am a servant like you. I am called Archmage Duncan, and I am here to take that boy from you as well as the girl.”

“Like hell you are,” Ghell growled. “My orders were to take the boy and do with him as I please until handing him off to the Hawk. If you are who you say you are, then you’d know that.” He snapped his fingers at his five black-robed men. “You had better explain who you are, how you know my name, and why you’re here before I order my men to cut you into tiny little pieces.”

“I am exactly who I say I am,” Duncan said. “The Hawk has sent me to take the boy from you; he will be used as a bargaining chip in our master’s grand plan.”

Ghell spat on the floor. “Nonsense! I have been promised the little ones once my purpose was complete. I need them to lure in this boy’s sister, Cah’lia.”

“Of course you do.” Duncan smiled. “From what I can see, you appear to have some grudge against this child’s elder sibling. I’m willing to guess the only way to motivate an insignificant little gnat such as yourself into doing anything properly is through the promise of a reward. Why, from what I’ve heard, you failed to lead a powerful regiment of the Hawk’s grand army to take this very city.”

Ghell foamed at the mouth. Green spittle dripped off his forked tongue and fell to the cobblestone floor; the stone sizzled wherever a droplet of his saliva landed.

“I refuse to believe this.”

Duncan shrugged. “I don’t care what you believe. Are you really stupid enough to think our master would go to such lengths just to assist you in your revenge? Of course not, you fool. Now, hand over the boy and the girl.” Duncan, as if first taking in the dark cellar, glanced around at the room. “Speaking of which, where is she? Where is the dark-haired human girl? The one master says is a former slave girl.”

“I don’t have her,” Ghell said. “I was only able to take the boy.”

Duncan let out a dark, mocking laugh. “You are useless indeed.”

“I’d watch your tone with me, old man. I’ll cut your throat before you utter another word.”

While Nero watched the two bicker, he turned his thoughts towards trying to escape. Yet all it took was a single look around the room to know there was no such chance. The room was small to begin with, and there was no way he could sneak around the five black-robed men, Ghell, and this newcomer, Duncan.