Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (27 page)

“
It looks like we get to ride again, friend,” he whispered, but then a thought struck him and he began to look around. “Where is Kaz?” He had half expected the Moorcat to be at the heels of the horse, for even Shakk could not outpace the fleet footed cat.

A thin trail of dust rose some distance away, and Valdieron barely made out the loping form of the banded Moorcat, looking as if he were in no hurry, but it was a second form running behind Kaz that made him gape. The figure wore a dark cloak, and as he ran, twin lengths of steel flashed in the sun, and Valdieron began to breathe a little easier, recognizing the easy gait and form of Javin.

The Cat obviously saw him and sped up, leaving Javin behind as he covered the distance in barely a handful of long stride, then he was on top of Valdieron, growling low in his throat as he playfully bit at Valdieron's hair and arms. By the time the cat let him rise, Javin was approaching at an uncertain walk, eyeing Valdieron as he might an oasis, thinking that any step could see it disappear.

“
Valdieron. You are alive! How?”

Valdieron gave a laugh and stepped up to the Darishi, clasping him warmly by the shoulders. “It seems your serpent is selective about what he eats. Too sweet!”

Javin chuckled and eyed Valdieron, plus the caverns beyond, with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

“
This is unprecedented.”

Valdieron smiled, though he could not tell Javin about the Dragon, or at least not yet. “Where is Jalek?”

“
He is back at our camp. This morning I heard your whistle, but passed it off as a play on my mind, but your second call came within moments of Shakk's appearance, passing by us as if we did not exist. I knew it was no coincidence, and made to follow, then Kaz also went by. Luckily, Jalek and I had not gone far after what happened yesterday, so it was not a long run for me. He will also be glad you have survived.”

“
That is good, but I must be gone again, for all purposes dead. It will be better if few know I have survived, Javin. I am not afraid of Khalan, but if he thinks I will return to accuse him of Dhalan's death again, he might just take it upon himself to see me disposed of for good.”

“
Where will we go?” asked Javin softly.

“
I cannot take you with me, Javin, as much as I would like to. There are things I have to do, and I don't even know how I will do them, but what I do know is many dangers await me. I cannot ask you to face them beside me.”

“
What danger is there that cannot be faced better with me beside you? There will be no questions from the Equinaries; especially if Jalek returns and tells them I fell to the serpent. It has happened before, and he can say he waited behind while I delivered you to the beast and did not return. Besides, there is nothing waiting for me back on the plains, while I sense you have much to see and do, and what better way to see the world. I have long wanted to travel widely, see other races and visit legendary cities.”

Valdieron was silent for a time. He did concede having Javin with him would at least make it easier, especially in times of danger. Another sword and another pair of eyes might be priceless when in need, but could he take Javin with him, knowing what dangers lay ahead? He knew if he did, he would have to let Javin at least know what dangers there were, and what it was they were searching for.

“
Your company will be greatly appreciated, Javin. There are things you will need to know, but I can fill you in as we go. Agreed?”

“
Agreed. Let's go and tell Jalek and Akor, and then we can get started.”

Leading Shakk and letting Kaz caper about, they made the return trip to the camp where the other two waited expectantly. Both faces split into smiles at the sight of Valdieron, and even the presence of Kaz did not seem to bother Jalek as much as usual, though he did eye the big cat uneasily. Smiles soon faded, however, as Valdieron told them he and Javin were leaving.

“
It is probably for the best,” conceded Jalek, “but I will be sorry to see you leave. The time you have been amongst us has seen a great stir amongst not only the Equinaries, but also the Darishi as a whole. You have set some things into motion, Valdieron, and I think it will see us change as a people, and hopefully it will be a change for the better.”

“
I hope so as well, Jalek. You know what to tell the Equinaries about Javin?”

Jalek nodded, a slight smile lighting his face as if he contemplated some mischief.

“
Good, and remember if you ever long for a change, go and see King Dhoric at Thorhus. He will have need of some good men soon, especially light infantry, and I think he will welcome the Darishi. Farewell, Jalek, and Akor of the Black Lion Clan, and thank you. Even when I was a prisoner, you treated me with respect, this I will not soon forget.”

Akor seemed close to tears again, and Jalek did not answer, though his face welled with pride and his eyes began to water, something he seemed a little ashamed about. Rather than embarrass him, Valdieron leapt onto Shakk and assisted Javin into position behind him. With a call to Kaz and a final wave, he kicked Shakk into motion, and the big stallion soon had them far away from the camp.

Kalamar's steps were heavy as he strode slowly towards King Dhoric's private chambers. There were few servants and soldiers in these corridors, but those who were seemed to notice his silent anger and brooding and kept respectfully clear. He clutched in his hand a small silver tube, less than the size of his thumb, and he weighed it unknowingly several times when he wasn't frowning down at it.

Dhoric was once again in his study, which seemed even more mussed than it had previously. The King himself appeared just as worse for wear, his graying hair and beard unkempt, and his clothes rumpled and unmatched. For some days, the King had attended few formal meetings or gatherings, leaving matters of state to his officials unless of extreme importance, or having anything to do with the coming confrontation.

He looked up as Kalamar entered, and the momentary frown the spy made at his appearance passed so quickly the King barely noticed it. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, and he looked to have aged ten years in the last week alone.

“
Is there news, Kalamar?” The King knew his chief spy so well he knew something was amiss, and his troubled eyes moved to the small cylinder Kalamar opened his hand to offer him. The King took it uncertainly, as if expecting the worst from its contents, knowing Kalamar would have spoken of its contents if it were anything else.

The cylinder twisted apart in the center, revealing a rolled strip of parchment, less than a hand in length. On it was a small line of spidery script the King read slowly, as if in disbelief.

“
Father. Kitara taken. Ka'Varel gone. Going to Lloreander. Will find her!” It did not have Andrak's name scribbled on it, but the King knew his son's writing, and did not discredit the authenticity of it.

“
It arrived just now by white Dove, sir,” revealed Kalamar softly, knowing as did the King that the white Dove was the favored messenger bird of the Elves.

Dhoric eyed the floor silently for some time, the parchment crumpling in his large hand as he clenched it, then let it fall to the floor to lie with the other litter and rubble.

“
You must find her, Kalamar. Whatever you do, Kitara must be found. If ever there was a need for your services, it is now.”

Kalamar nodded, expecting this sort of response. Indeed, he had already set into action several plans for the location and return of the Princess. “Do not fear, Majesty. You have agents everywhere. The whereabouts of the Princess will be known within the week, I have no doubt.”

Dhoric only nodded, as if resigned that what had to be done would be done, but it was a defeatist attitude as far as Kalamar was concerned, totally out of character for the usually voracious ruler. More than a little worried, he excused himself and left, his concern for the King fading with his new concern for Kitara. Finding her would not be as easy as he had alluded to the King, even with the many agents he had throughout the cities of the realms, especially if there were measures taken to keep her hidden.

“
What times are these into which we head?” he whispered softly, though not too softly for one servant rushing past him not to have heard. He did not see her bemused look or startled gasp at his musings as he headed straight for his chambers.

If not for his brooding, he might have sensed the attack before it came. Stepping into his chamber, he might have noticed the slight chill, though the fire burned low, as if it had recently been opened. He might have even sensed the figure as he strode across the room to his lower study, a thin curtain partitioning off the tiered room. The figure who struck was fast and quiet. If Kalamar had not been as good as he was, he would have been dead within an instant.

As it was, the dagger that would have punctured his lungs sliced across his chest, and for a fleeting moment he hoped the dagger was not poisoned as he cursed his inattentiveness and hooked the Assassin's arm away, while parrying a second punch and a short kick aimed at his knee. He managed a straight- fingered thrust at the Assassin's throat, but the figure moved fast to intercept, batting his feeble strike aside with a flick of his wrist. The hand holding the dagger spun to make another strike at Kalamar, but the Spy was no longer within reach as he stepped back.

The Assassin was dressed in skin- tight dark silk, which seemed to exude darkness, and Kalamar guessed some magic was involved to make him even more difficult to spot in darkness or shadow. Pale light from the shuttered lanterns on the wall and ambient light from the main room seemed to dissipate as it struck the cloth. Same with the dagger, the blade coated with a dark paint so it would not reflect light, probably why it was not poisoned. The blade itself was double  edged, thin and long enough so that it would easily reach vital organs it struck in the correct place.

“
You have come a long way, Kiroba!” spat Kalamar as the Assassin regarded him briefly, somewhat arrogantly allowing him to draw a dagger of his own. It was one of the many he carried on his body, not long but single  edged and thick enough to parry a strong sword  blow, though the grey adamantine blade was very sharp. It was Dwarven made to his own specifications, a weapon from his past.

If the Assassin was surprised Kalamar knew him, or at least his identity, he did not show it, instead sneering from beneath his dark cowl. “No distance is too far to face you, Hibbaki  Tamar!”

Kalamar was the one surprised now. The Hibbaki  Tamar was an ancient order of Assassins from feudal Zarn, where House warfare had been a way of life for many centuries. Once, it was said they were the finest Assassins in the realms, but now, with Zarn becoming more of a merchant  oriented society, there were few uses for such a class of deadly killers. There were only two such sects remaining that Kalamar knew of, one of those being the one he had been taught by, the Tigers Claw sect.

“
Your desire to face me will be your downfall, Kiroba!” It was simple fact as Kalamar saw it, for despite the legendary aura of the Kiroba, he was all too familiar with their ways, and more so, his own. There was no overconfidence on his behalf when he knew the Kiroba could not match him.

But to his credit, he did try. Both met in a flurry of slashes and punches, locked too closely together for more than a short foot strike or attempted trip. Sparks flew as short blades met, the crystalline clanging echoing through the small chamber. There were few furnishings here in the study, just a bookcase, a large table and a chair, allowing the two some ability to separate or give ground, though it was the Kiroba who gave most ground, and when he separated, his dark clothes were damp at his side and thigh where Kalamar had sliced through his defenses.

Without word he attacked again, a desperate feel to his movements that made Kalamar cautious, for a desperate foe could easily do something unforeseeable and make an unexpected maneuver.

Which he did. Using a series of low feints, the Kiroba spun with a short jab  kick at Kalamar's right knee, meaning to disable him. The kick scraped across clothing as Kalamar shifted away, but then a dagger was arcing through the air at his throat as the Kiroba straightened and continued his spin. A parry was not an option here as he snaked away from the dagger, which seemed to grow larger as it neared him, despite his movement, so that when it passed, there was a flash of pain at his throat.

Ignoring the pain, Kalamar saw the Kiroba now open, the flashing attack sending his arm wide. Stepping inside the arc of the man's dagger, he used his left hand to hold the assassin's weapon arm at the wrist and snapped his right foot into the man's instep. There was a crack of bone and cartilage as the leg bowed, and the Kiroba barked a cry of pain, a credit to his self- control and pain tolerance. Then Kalamar's dagger was at the man's throat, the razor  sharp edge drawing a faint line of blood from the slight contact.