EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (361 page)

“I
give
you
my
word,”
said
Lyndria.
“But
you
never
know.

You
may
yet
survive.”

Lee
could
hear
the
men
gathering
their
belongings
together. Cursing
himself
for
allowing
them
to
capture
him,
he
struggled against
the
ropes.
But
even
with
his
massive
strength,
he
had
no hope
of
breaking
them.

They
were
led
into
the
frigid
night
air,
and
then
walked south for an hour. By the time they stopped he was chilled to the bone.
He
hoped
Millet
was
able
to
endure.
He
may
not
like
the man,
but
as
a
part
of
his
house,
he
was
responsible
for
him.

“Millet,”
Lee
called
out.

“I-I’m
h-here,”
Millet
replied,
his
voice
trembling
from
the cold.

“Don’t worry,” said Lyndria. “You’ll be warm soon enough.”

Lee
could
hear
hushed
voices,
but
could
not
make
out
the words
over
the
roar
of
the
wind.
After
another
few
minutes
he was
pushed
roughly
to
his
right
side.
Within
seconds
the
wind was
silent.
He
could
hear
the
echoes
of
many
booted
footsteps
as they
entered
a
cave.
The
ground
was
uneven
and
sloped
down. They
wound
their
way
through
a
series
of
twists
and
turns
until he
heard
the
crackle
of
a
fire.
The
warmth
was
welcome,
and
he nearly
sighed
with
relief.
He
was
led
a
few
more
feet,
then forced
to
his
knees.
Lee
could
hear
Millet’s
shivering
breath next
to
him.

A
short
time
later,
Lee
heard
shouting
echoing
off
the
rock walls.
As
it
drew
near
he
could
make
out
two
distinct
voices. One
of
them
was
Lyndria’s.

“So
you
would
have
me
kill
them
and
leave
their
bodies
on the
road?”
she
yelled.

“I
would
have
you
let
them
pass
without
noticing
us,”
shouted a
deep
male
voice.
“They
might
have
turned
back
if
they
didn’t find
the
bridge.
You’re
reckless
and
stupid.”

“And
you’re
behaving
like
a
stubborn
ox,”
said
Lyndria. “You
can
always
kill
them
if
you
wish.
But
the
young
one
is more
than
he
pretends
to
be.
He
rides
the
horse
of
a
noble,
and his
sword
is
worth
more
than
a
year’s
wages.”

“So
you
say,”
said
the
man.
“We
will
see.”

Lee
heard
heavy
footfalls
approaching
fast.
Then
the blindfold
was
ripped
from
his
eyes.
It
took
a
moment
for
his vision
to
adjust.
Slowly
he
could
see
that
he
was
in
a
small
rock cavern,
twenty
feet
long,
about
twice
as
wide,
and
just
high enough
for
a
tall
man
to
stand
erect.
A
small
fire
was
burning near
the
wall
across
from
where
he
sat.
The
smoke
drifted
up into
a
small
crack
in
the
rock.
A
few
bedrolls
were
pushed carelessly
against
the
near
wall
along
with
his
pack,
and
his sword
was
resting
beside
the
narrow
entrance,
along
with Millet’s
knife
and
belt.

Lyndria
was
standing
beside
a
hulking,
black
haired
man. He
was
shirtless
and
bore
several
tattoos
across
his
massive chest.
Most
were
symbols
Lee
didn’t
recognize,
but
the
sign
of Saraf,
God
of
the
Oceans,
(and
Lee’s
father)
was
clearly
visible over
his
heart.
He
had
a
square
jaw
and
deeply
set
brown
eyes, which
looked
down
at
him
with
fury.
His
brown
wool
trousers were
stained
and
tattered,
and
his
brown
leather
boots
were worn
from
years
of
hard
use.
In
his
right
hand,
thick
fingers wrapped
around
a
rusted,
six
inch
dagger.
He
snarled,
revealing several
gold
teeth.
He
reached
down
and
effortlessly
pulled
Lee to
his
feet.

“Who
are
you?”
he
demanded.
His
voice
rumbled
with
barely
contained
anger.
“And
don’t
lie,
or
it
will
be
the
last words
you
speak.”
His
rolling
r’s
and
sharp
vowels
sounded Baltrian,
though
more
crude
and
guttural.

Lee
looked
to
Millet,
who
was
still
blindfolded.
“My
name is
Lee
Starfinder,
and
this
is
Millet
Gristall.”

“If
you
wish
to
speak,”
said
Millet.
“You
should
speak
to me.
Lee
is
in
my
charge.”

Lyndria
pulled
a
knife
from
her
belt
and
cut
his
blindfold.

Millet
squinted
and
blinked.

“I
believe
you
are
the
more
intelligent,”
said
Lyndria.
“But I
have
my
doubts
as
to
your
kinship.”
She
helped
Millet
up.

“Does
it
matter?”
asked
Millet.
“My
nephew,
son,
friend,
or
just
a
traveling
companion.
The
fact
is,
I
am
the
one
to
speak to.”

“It
matters,”
said
the
man.
“It
matters
quite
a
bit.”

“Then
you
know
the
truth,”
said
Millet
firmly.
“Lee
is
my nephew.
We
journey
to
Dantory
to
seek
work
from
my
cousin. You
have
all
that
we
possess.
What
further
use
can
you
have
for
us?”
He
straightened
his
back.
“And
would
you
be
so
kind
as
to
introduce
yourself?”

The
man
approached
Millet
until
he
was
less
than
an
inch from
his
nose.
“I
am
Jaleel.
And
I
would
know
why
two
fools would
brave
Dashivis
Pass?”

“Because
I
am
weary
of
my
nephew’s
foolishness,”
said Millet.
“The
pass
would
cut
weeks
from
our
trip,
and
I
am anxious
to
be
rid
of
his
daily
complaining.
An
action
I
now regret.”

Jaleel
fixed
his
eyes
on
Millet’s,
then
took
a
step
back. “And
what
work
do
you
seek
in
Dantory?”

“My
cousin
is
a
cloth
merchant,”
said
Millet.
“As
far
as what
work
we
shall
do…that
will
be
up
to
him.”

Jaleel
turned
to
face
Lyndria.
“They’re
your
responsibility until
I
decide
what
to
do
with
them.”
He
glanced
back
at
Millet and
shook
his
head.
“See
to
it
that
they
stay
put.”
He
stalked from
the
cavern,
squeezing
his
broad
shoulders
through
the narrow
opening.

“Well,
at
least
you
get
to
stay
alive
for
a
while
longer,”
said Lyndria,
amused.

“Indeed,”
said
Millet.
“But
I
wonder
what
Baltrian
pirates are
doing
this
far
north?”

Lyndria’s
smile
vanished.
“Very
observant.
But
I
suggest you
mind
your
tongue
when
you
speak
to
Jaleel.
He
isn’t
as good
natured
as
I
am.”
She
led
them,
one
at
a
time,
to
the
fire and
sat
them
down.
“If
you’re
thinking
of
escape,
know
that
the bowmen
that
helped
me
capture
you
are
just
outside
and
have orders
to
shoot
anyone
that
exits…even
me.”

“How
did
you
know
they
are
pirates?”
asked
Lee.

“The
symbol
of
Saraf
over
his
heart
was
one
indication,” Millet
replied.
“And
a
few
of
the
other
tattoos
made
it
clear
that Jaleel
is
no
ordinary
Baltrian
sailor.”

Lee
looked
Lyndria
up
and
down.
“You
don’t
look
much like
a
pirate.”

“And
you
would
know
this
how?”
asked
Lyndria.
“I
suppose
through
your
vast
experience
with
seafaring
folk.”
She sneered.
“You
should
let
Millet
speak.
Silence
is
your
best
ally.”

Lee
scowled,
but
kept
quiet.

More
than
an
hour
passed
by,
and
Jaleel
still
hadn’t returned.
Lyndria
stood
and
began
to
pace.
Then
a
commotion could
be
heard
just
outside
the
entrance.
A
second
later
a
thin man
in
a
brown
tunic
and
pants
stumbled
in.
He
held
a
short sword,
and
blood
trickled
down
his
forehead.

“It’s
happened
again,”
he
wheezed,
out
of
breath.
“It
got Hustra
and
Vantra
this
time.” He
wobbled,
then
steadied
himself against
the
wall.
“Tore
them
limb
from
limb
it
did.”

Lyndria
helped
the
man
to
remain
standing.
“When?”

“Just
now,”
he
replied.
“Jaleel
sent
me
to
warn
you.
It might
be
headed
this
way.”

Lyndria
nodded
and
turned
to
Lee
and
Millet.
“Keep
quiet if
you
value
your
life.”

“What’s
going
on?”
asked
Lee.
“I
said
quiet,”
snapped
Lyndria.

A
short
time
later,
Jaleel
entered,
a
grave
expression
on
his weathered
face.
“It’s
gone
for
now.”

“How
many?”
asked
Lyndria.

“Only
Hustra
and
Vantra,”
Jaleel
replied.
“It
ripped
them
to pieces
before
the
rest
of
us
could
get
there.”
He
spat.
“Bloody demon.”

“What
the
hell
is
going
on
here?”
demanded
Lee.

Jaleel
turned
and
stormed
at
Lee.
Just
before
he
reached him,
Lyndria
stepped
in
the
way.

“He
has
done
nothing,”
she
said.
“Save
your
fury.”

Jaleel
nodded
slowly,
then
leaned
against
the
wall
beside the
fire.
“We
came
here
a
year
ago
from
Baltria
to
search
for
an ancient
treasure:
The
Jewel
of
Dantenos,
God
of
the
Dead.”

“I’ve
heard
stories,”
said
Millet.
“It
is
said
to
be
the
gem that
once
rested
in
the
crown
of
Islisema,
Goddess
of
the
Moon and
Stars.”

“Yes,”
Jaleel
affirmed.
“The
legend
says
that Dantenos stole
the
jewel
and
hid
it
in
the
mountains
after
she
rejected
his advances.”

“You
mean
you’re
here
looking
for
bedtime
stories?”
scoffed
Lee.
“You
must
be
joking.”

Jaleel
flashed
an
annoyed
glance
as
Lee.
“I’m
not
a
fool, boy.
I
wouldn’t
come
here
if
I
didn’t
know
the
jewel
is
real.”
He reached
into
his
belt
and
pulled
out
a
ripped
scrap
of
parchment. “I
was
given
this
by
my
father
before
he
died.”
He
held
it
up
for Lee
and
Millet
to
see.
“He
found
this
while…trading
off
the coast
of
Althetas.
The
owner
gave
his
life
to
protect
it.”
On
the parchment
were
written
two
lines
of
eleven
letters.
“I
had
this translated.
It
says:
“Dantenos’
vengeance
will
find
its
way
to
the mountain
that
cuts
the
earth
in
twain.
There
you
will
find
the treasure
of
dark
dreams
and…”

Jaleel
frowned.
“It
ends
there.”

“That’s
it?”
mocked Lee. “Two lines on a worthless
parchment,
and
you
go
on
a
fool’s
errand?”

“That’s
enough,
Lee,”
barked
Millet.
“Are
you
trying
to
get us
killed?”

Lee
huffed.
“I
just...”
But
another
look
from
Millet
silenced him.

“Rest
assured
I
didn’t
come
here
before
I
was
certain,” continued
Jaleel.
“This
parchment
is
a
piece
of
a
map.
I
searched for
fifteen
years
for
the
rest
of
it.
Finally,
I
found
it
at
the Temple
of
the
Far
Sky,
buried
in
the
grave
of
the
temple’s founder.”