Dusk Falling (Book 1) (23 page)

“Mari.” The man who had originally spoke warned the woman with a call of her name, having seen the dangerous glint to the saurian’s eyes. Prenkins had been a patrolman for the Magnates of Gevra-Deln for many
years; he had the sense of a warrior. “Why have you come to Gevra-Deln? You came through Mag’har to arrive at this point, how else could we perceive you but as spies of our enemies.”

“This is ridiculous. Who the hell are you people?!” Serrtin snarled, exasperated.

The woman named Mari took a step forward, seemingly unintimidated. Serrtin took a grip on her hilt, ready to take up her sword at the slightest provocation.

“Hold.”

Serrtin looked back. Long black hair falling over her shoulders, the small figure of Aya trembled on unsteady feet with hands on her knees. Agemeer stood beside her, the canine in him making a concerned whining noise. “We are making our way through Zarhethe for reasons that are our own in search of a companion of ours. A group of less than fifteen, we believe, passed this way earlier. These people are much more of a threat than we are. It should be them you are keeping an eye on. Please, let us pass unaccosted. Or at least escort us through your land so that you know we are no threat.” Aya stood up straight, looking more drawn than she had seconds earlier.

The Gevra-Deln soldiers eyed the bedraggled girl with still-bleeding slashes across her chest in silence.

“How can we be sure you are not Mag’har spies? Here to sabotage our plans for the lake of Iprandia?” Prenkins asked, ignoring the glare he received from Mari.

“If we were saboteurs, would we have been found so easily?” The Bren responded sensibly.

“You make a good point. The name is Prenkins.” The man said, stern anger flooding from his face and posture. He would still be wary for who knew what the strangers to his land could be up to but he would no longer think ill of them as Mag’har warmongers. “We were hired to patrol Iprandia’s shores in case Mag’har tries to expand their borders into our waters. Everyone who passes here is suspect. Nothing personal.” Aya gave a nod. “But we will have to escort you, as you said. I will take you as far as my range, then assign someone to take you the rest of the way.” Prenkins said. “What happened here?” He gestured to incorporate Serrtin, Aya, Agemeer and the lined trees. The trunks held horizontal scars. Leaves were crushed and left strewn about. The ground was torn up.

Serrtin sheathed her blade, glad for the mage’s good judgment. The Gevra-Deln soldiers brought down their own swords with palpable relief. Mari however did not look satisfied.

Aya took a breath, finding it difficult to breath, and was about to respond truthfully to the man’s question when a young man with long black hair interrupted her as he burst through the thicket. He was panting from exertion, having run for nearly two miles. “Captain Prenkins!”

“Evral, what is it?”

“Sir, intruders.” The young man eyed the ex-Hunters but did not say anything in regards to them. He turned back to his captain. “Just passed Iprandia and moving east.”

“How many?” The practical Mari inquired.

“Too many for me alone. Roughly eight to ten, armed. Definitely not local.”

“Well, well, looks like we’ve found your men.” Prenkins said to Aya, with a mirthless smile. “Care to join us?”

Chapter 19

They were making good time, even without mounts. Jrellin had already planned on stopping at the Gevra-Deln city of Neibra to buy horses for his men in order to speed up the risky time they spent out in the open. They had lost the bounty hunters but there was a greater enemy out there. One that would jump on any chance.

Jrellin walked near the center of the small group, prepared in case of an ambush affront or behind. He was not too worried though for they already completed the most difficult part of their mission. The only part left was the return trip home. Jrellin was looking forward to it, to his lovely wife as well as seeing the look upon the
Kassar’s
face when he returned victorious. A prestigious celebration would be planned in his honor, he could rest safe, and all for one thing.

The Larren opened his leather satchel and pulled out the sphere, still wrapped in his light cloak. Carefully he peeled away the cloth revealing the small figure inside. The Elfkin was standing, back to one of the rounded walls, arms crossed loosely. Jrellin noticed with an unexpected smile that his flask was still in the youth’s hand.

The light caused Genlo to squint as he glared up at Jrellin. The Larren was getting used to the look. “I apologize for the dark. It is easier to store the sphere without worry of its breaking in my cloak. Are you hungry?” The youth snorted rudely. “Okay, then.” Jrellin responded without affrontment. “We will be stopping in the nearest town to purchase horses. From there, it will not be long.” Genlo did not say anything. “For what it is worth, I am sorry.”

Jrellin spoke softly, the Jrahda-trethen barely heard him, but it was unexpected. Genlo didn’t know what to think of that so he gulped down the last of the liquid and tossed the flask to the sphere’s ‘floor’. On an empty stomach, it made him feel lightheaded but nonetheless worried for his fate.

A shout nearby and resulting start from Jrellin caused Genlo to lose his balance. Then it was all dark as the Larren quickly packed away the sphere again. The resulting jostle made Genlo’s stomach pitch.

Through the fabric and the crystal, sound was distorted but he could hear the tell-tale sounds of a scuffle. Jrellin’s men were shouting, one or two let out screams. Genlo could hear the sounds of weapons being pulled but the lack of metal-on-metal as one would hear in an attack gave him pause.

The Elfkin was knocked off his feet and Jrellin’s voice came to him.

“Damned sprite,
let go
!” Jrellin snarled, locked in a struggle over his leather satchel. The small flying Fae was stronger than it looked.

Around him, his men were caught in similar struggles. Out of the trees, the flowers, and rocks the sprites had suddenly manifested, accosting his men like it was something personal. Sprites were known to hinder travelers and cause mischief to the unwary but not usually so passionately.

One sprite had managed to pilfer one of his men’s daggers and was now flitting about chopping wildly like it was a miniature sword. Two others had managed to wrestle away a satchel and took to hanging it on the highest branch they could reach. Their small bell-like chiming laughter and the buzzing sound of their gossamer wings could be heard even to Genlo, which lead him to believe there was quite a number of them.

“Fae…” The Elfkin said to himself with a sardonic chuckle. Served them right. He
had
been worried.

~ ~ ~

Aya couldn’t keep up. She tried but the strenuous run only worsened her symptoms. In the end, Serrtin carried the slight girl, the weight not hindering the saurian’s own pace in the least.

Evral ran in front, his energy reflecting a life of fast moving. Prenkins and Mari were on his heels. The rest of the Gevra-Deln patrolmen were spaced out around Serrtin and Agemeer.

“What’s going on?” Serrtin asked.

“Fae.” Prenkins replied. They peered through the greenery at a scene that normally would have been uproariously humorous. The men were frantic. Tiny glints of blue and silver flitted about in the air.

“It’s them.” Serrtin said, half to herself. She was hunched over, squatting at Prenkins’ side, ready to grab her sword. The Yarcka glanced over her shoulder to Aya, the mage was unconscious and laid where Serrtin had placed her. Something was wrong and she knew it.

“The Fae that inhabit Iprandia… why are they here?” Mari questioned out loud.

“Water Fae?” Serrtin whispered, eyeing the flask around Agemeer’s neck. “Could Kcrie have…?”

What occurred next was a blur of sounds and motion. One of the men fell headlong into the brush that concealed the watching forms of the Gevra-Deln patrolmen and the ex-Hunters. His cry of alarm alerted his fellows as well as frighten off the water sprites. As the small Fae darted for their home lake, the patrolmen came to the realization the men they faced were already armed and menaced.

Prenkins fell protecting Mari from an unexpected attack by dagger. Serrtin felt a pang of remorse but did not have long to mourn. She drew her flamberge.

Mari was useless without her Captain and the deaths of two more comrades did little help. The tough attitude she had was merely a façade, left behind as the woman took to her feet and ran.

“You again.” Jrellin said, appearing before Serrtin, flanked by his men. “I doubted your fortitude and persistence in this.”

“How unfortunate.” Serrtin said back, spinning her blade at her side. Some of the patrolmen were still alive- surrendered or were too injured to continue. Evral, the scout, was one of the ones who were unlucky enough to never be seeing another day. “You shouldn’t have tested us. You have something we’ll be taking back now.”

“Really? I believe that ‘something’ is ours- signed and paid for if I remember correctly. And when you say ‘we’, I only see you and your snarling cur. Where might the other one be? The mage girl?” The soldier’s eyes slipped past the Yarcka, inciting Serrtin to follow his gaze.

A knife was put to the unconscious mage’s throat.

“You leave her be!”

“Don’t move.” Jrellin ordered. Serrtin gave pause, even though her heart warred with her mind. Her grip on her sword turned bloodless. “That you would risk so much…”

“Sir?” The man to Jrellin’s right asked, his blade held ready.

Jrellin eyed the saurian, so ready to defend her friend even should it mean her death. They both had odd cuts and wounds covering their bodies, as did the Wulf, giving testament to a battle recently fought. One that caused the mage to go down, the Larren perceived. From the regency of Indelsis, through the Gateway and now here in the Provinces, they had trailed him and his men- an impossible task to be sure. He held up his hand. “Hold. We’ll take them to the
Kassar
. I think he will want to meet them.”

There were grumblings, questioning and epitaphs but no one outright argued with their leader.

“And if you refuse, the girl’s life will be forfeit. Her blood will be on your hands.”

~ ~ ~

How many days had passed, Serrtin was not sure. She had been blindfolded, forced to walk, unsure of her companions’ fates. The material was thick, blocking out even the light of day and of fire.

Next thing she knew she was shoved forward and what had been binding her arms came loose. Serrtin spied Agemeer, all four legs still tethered together. He looked at her plaintatively. Aya was there. The mage looked terrible, her condition worsened- something Serrtin had doubted was possible. As far as the saurian knew, the girl had not woken once during their journey to… to wherever they were.

The Bren occupied the only cot in what looked to be a jail cell. There was a jail cell to the other side. It had a cot as well and one occupant.

“
You
!” Serrtin cried out in disbelief. “You’re alive, you lousy- I can’t believe this.”

Genlo made a gesture with his hand halfway between rude and a wave. He lay reclined on the wooden cot, arms behind his head with one leg crooked. “Nice to see you too.
Alive
.”

“Is that all you have to say?!” Serrtin bellowed, latching onto the bars in between the cells. “Are you even the least bit surprised to see us? This is all your fault, you hear me?!”

“My fault? You’re the one who got caught by
them
. I was turned in or did you forget? A fine mess this is but let’s get straight on whose to blame here. What’s with the girl?”

Serrtin’s anger drained and she looked down at Aya. “I’m not sure. S-she got hurt.”

“Hmph, figures.” Despite his words, the Jrahda-trethen got to his feet. Peering through the bars, his face grew critical. He looked at the horizontal cut patterns that ran over her arms, the four slashes across her chest, the drawn and pinched eyes. Her breathing was quick and erratic. He was familiar with the signs. Genlo then snorted. “You let him get close enough to scratch you? That was a mistake. You must have really ticked him off to do that. But to get that close? He’s not all that fast.”

“Says you! We’re not all graced with the speed of a weasel.” Serrtin said, untying Agemeer. “Wait, you know who did this?”

“Of course.”

“He said his name was Xiethes.” Agemeer supplied, getting to his feet.

“Xiethes is the Verca’s lapdog. The claws on his hands are painted in a particularly nasty poison. He obviously tried his little wire trick by your appearance. Annoying isn’t it.”

“You’ve tangled with him before?”

“Remember me saying how the Verca would capture Youkai out of Thabinthira and bring them in for me to practice my skills on?” He gestured to their wounds. “Well, Xiethes was one of them. He did give me a little trouble- more so than many demonics would. How nice it is to see the lapdog is still on the leash.”

“Poison, you say?” Agemeer said, putting his front feet up on the cot beside Aya.

“She’ll die from it eventually. It only takes a few days to get this bad.”

“There has to be something we can do! An antidote!” Serrtin exclaimed frantically.

“And how do you think you’re going to make an antidote? Ask your jailors?” He gave a small cheerless laugh and sat down.

“You know the cure to the poison?”

“Yes. But what’s the point?” He glared over at the Yarcka and then the unconscious girl. “Fine, since you are so interested. The antidote
is
poison. The non-lethal kind. If you were to add a different poison to the wound it would counteract Xiethes’ poison.”

“Poison curing poison? That doesn’t make sense. That would just make her condition worse.”

Genlo shrugged. “She’s going to die anyway so why argue.”

“She’s not gonna die. You don’t know Aya. She’ll fight with everything she’s got.”

“Which won’t be enough.”

“You of all people should have realized by now. She has sacrificed everything on the belief she’s doing the right thing. She’s not a quitter.”