144: Wrath (32 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

The room was strangely beautiful with the sunlight streaming in through the hole in the ceiling. The light played off glass sculptures, bronze door handles, and the silver wire spun through the draperies on the wall and the rug in the center of the floor. The effect was a glittering, silent room that contradicted the violence that had taken place in the earliest hours of the morning.

Flint stared up into the open sky, marveled at the perfect circle, and looked back and forth between it and Xandra in wonder. The girl did not remember how it had happened, but he knew that she was the source. He had almost finished healing her wounds and needed to have a serious talk with her about her fight to see what he could learn from it about her Gift.

"That’s enough, Master," she said and pushed his hand away from her shoulder.

The Faldred tried to help her stand, but she refused his aid. She stood on her own and sprinted off down the hallway.

"Xandra, wait," Flint called after her. "Where are you going?"

Xandra ignored her master as she tried the door at the end of the hall. It was locked tight.

"Vor, please, I need you!" she cried out. The fear and anguish of not knowing was too much for her.

The Dorokti king dropped the Cratin’s trident but shoved the net into his own pack and stalked down the hall toward her. "One side, lamb."

He raised his axe and brought it down into the door handle. A bolt of electricity arced across the metal blade and leaped into his arm. The muscles in his shoulder and chest tensed with the shock, and his fur sizzled as the current danced over his skin. He shook his arm twice as though he could fling away the pain and kicked the door the rest of the way open.

Xandra dashed inside, searching for any sign of Kiff. All she found was a bloody streak that disappeared behind a lush banner. She brushed it aside and made a run for the portal without as much as a glance behind her.

Polas searched through the remains of Vor’s rampage looking for anything that might be worth taking. He found an armored soldier and robbed him of his breastplate and broadsword. He then kicked over the carcass of the smaller Peltin Moon Warrior, eyeing the blade-laden bandolier.

"Kiff might want these," he said as he stuffed them into a haversack.

He knelt down and removed the straps before looking through the rest of the corpses. He picked up a few extra knives and some armored gloves off one dead assassin. From another, he pilfered some rope and climbing spikes. Lastly, he found a pouch full of traveler’s mune and a pair of boots that he traded for his own worn pair. There was very little else he could use.

As he stood and flexed his toes, testing the fit of the borrowed boots, Flint poked his head out of the balcony door.

"Master Kas Dorian, you might want to come up here," he said. "Xandra’s run off to find Kiff. I think they may have used Exandercrast’s portal."

Polas hefted his bag of loot over his shoulder and clambered his way up the fallen terrace. He followed the Faldred up the stairs via a makeshift bridge jury-rigged together out of loose lumber from the balcony’s broken support beams. At the top of the stairs, he saw Vor pacing. The Dorokti King swayed with anxiousness, and his right hand twitched at his side.

Polas understood his tension. A part of him thought that they should rest before stepping through the portal, but he also knew Exandercrast would erase it from existence as soon as he learned of the Thieves’ Guild’s failure. They had to act.

Xandra dashed blindly into the pitch-black rain. She stumbled over something large and soft and decided to stay still until she got her bearings. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the cliffs’ edges and several large boulders but nothing more. There was no sunlight, nor even any indication that it was day, in this hope-forsaken land.

She held up her quarterstaff, closed her eyes, and focused her energy into its top end, causing it to glow searing white. It illuminated the ravine and blinded her once again as her eyes refocused. The light bounced off wet rocks and echoed back from puddles of water on the hard ground.

What lay before her sent her stomach into her throat, and she had to fight the urge to vomit. Massive creatures of stony flesh lay all about the area. Some were missing limbs, had entrails spilling out of their open bellies, or had bloody messes where they once had a face. She walked from body to body, checking for any signs of life or for the cause of their demise.

She found his goggles smashed beneath the corpse of one of the rocky creatures. His mask was a few feet away soaked in black blood. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat. "Kiff, where are you?"

Finally, she saw him lying against a large boulder near a sheer cliff wall.

She sprinted toward him, her fiery red hair trailing behind her. She slid to a stop next to him and lifted his head off the ground, setting him up against the cold stone. His eyes were open, staring blankly up toward the clouded sky. Blood stained his teeth and chin, and his arms hung limply at his side.

Xandra lifted his left hand, still tied around the grip of his crescent blade. She ran her fingers along the metal shards that stabbed out from inside his wrist and eased his hand back open. The shards retracted leaving scarlet ribbons behind.

She stared at him and let the heavy rain soak into her soul. His cold lips were turned up in a wry grin that she somehow knew though it had always been hidden. If only she had seen him smile. Just once.

Slowly she closed his deep, black eyes and gently touched his scarred face. He was barely older than she was, and his life was already over.

She felt like screaming. She felt like marching into Firevers and tearing Exandercrast’s head from his body. She felt completely helpless.

She cried as the rain beat down on them both.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Matthew the Blue stepped through his citrine portal into the cool morning air outside the city walls of Odes’Kan. The suns were shining, and birds trilled their morning songs. The call of merchants and vendors resonated over the city, and the bustle of everyday life continued as it had for thousands of years.

Matthew’s spirit was low. It was a simple enough thing to steal the blade out from under the ale-soaked watch of the Wyvern’s Nest patrons. It was more difficult to determine exactly how the gamblers had come to possess the artifact, and it was even harder to believe. How could the man abandon the blade? Had he completely walked away from his destiny? The Cairtol had waited for many years believing that Kas Dorian’s return would herald a new age of Hope, but it appeared that even the great General of Men had given up what faith once lay within him or, perhaps, had it driven from him.

Matthew held the sword up for inspection. It was taller than he was, and though it was much older, remained as immaculate as the day it was forged. He saw the reflection of his face staring back at him from its glistening edge. It looked as tired as he felt.

Perhaps Baden or Lacien would have good news at the rendezvous. He knew they were doing the right thing. Even if they were the only ones, it had to be done.

He wrapped the Blade of Leindul in a strip of cloth and tucked it under his arm. He smiled sadly at the grand city and its people. They were content to dwell in Exandercrast's shadow as long as they could buy and sell, love and lust, toil and live according to their own measure.

Who was he to tell them that they need to be rescued? If they had no knowledge of Exandercrast, did they even need deliverance from the God of Fear?

He shook away his doubts. Deep within, he knew that was exactly why they needed a hero like Polas Kas Dorian to undertake this quest for them. It was something they would never try themselves. Matthew the Blue would do everything in his power to encourage and support the ancient general’s efforts; even if that meant reminding the man of the course he had started so many ages ago.

Matthew stepped back through his glimmering portal and prepared to face his own destiny.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Exandercrast felt the thrill of anticipation for the first time in ages. He sat on his throne in his human form, watching four oversized black mirrors on stands before him. A hot breeze blew in the throne room’s open window and rattled the stands.

Four Narculd advisors stood on hand, ready to assist their lord with anything he might need. They were all silent and kept their eyes to the floor, dreading the outburst of wrath that was sure to follow what they had all witnessed.

Each of the mirrors displayed a different image. One showed the Daughter of Hope clutching the lifeless body of a slain Undlander. The next showed the fallen body of Calec Kas Dorian, Exandercrast’s most loyal guardian, lying in an enclosed garden. The last two showed a diminutive Cairtol standing alone on an open plain and an overweight Faldred huffing to keep up with a haggard old man and a ram-faced Fallen as they passed through a lavish office.

Exandercrast dismissed the images, rose, and walked past the advisors on his way toward the window. He ran his hands along a table covered in glowing orbs. The colors within the arcane devices fluttered and swirled in response to his touch. The God of Fear looked out upon the dark and dreary sky that covered his land. Kas Dorian would be here soon, and perhaps he might even be able to make it all the way to Firevers this time.

His mortal form shuddered, and Exandercrast drank in the sensation. In his draconic Naluni form, he felt very little but his own power. Now, restrained as he was, he tasted every sensation a weak, worldly body could offer.

"Ready the armies for inspection," he said. "Do not return until all is perfect."

The advisors were all too happy to remove themselves from their lord’s presence. They shuffled out single file, the last one closing the door gently behind them.

Exandercrast poured himself a glass of wine and sat on the plush cushions of his throne. He swirled his glass and breathed deeply, inhaling its sweet aroma.

He idly stroked the red ring on his right hand.

Soon. Very soon.