Kathir's Redemption (Book 6) (36 page)

“
That doesn
’
t matter. I
’
ve talked to Utan and Sela already, and both of them have given me their blessing.

“
I can
’
t do it,
”
said Tallin quietly.
“
The other clans will never accept me.
”

“
You
’
re wrong. I know my clan will accept you
—
I
’
ve already asked them. Times have changed, and there
’
s no reason why you should be treated any differently.
”

“
But I don
’
t have any experience,
”
Tallin argued.

“
Ye
’
re a dragon rider! Ye have plenty of experience helpin
’
people. Plus, ye
’
ll have advisors, just like all the other leaders. They
’
ll help guide ye to the proper decisions
—
but ye
’
ll be the one people will be followin
’
. Will ye accept the position?
”

A long pause followed, in which Tallin gazed at him speechlessly. Then a booming voice echoed in his mind.

“
Do it,
”
said Duskeye, his gravelly voice echoing from afar.
“
It
’
s about time you were appreciated by your own people.
”

“
So you were listening in, eh? There
’
s too much pressure. I
’
m not keen on this idea. It
’
s too much responsibility. 
”

“
More responsibility than being a dragon rider? Come on now, think about it. You
’
d make a terrific leader
—
and you
’
d finally get the respect that you deserve from the clans.
”

“
Please consider it,
”
begged Skemtun.  He paused for breath.
“
I know you
’
re very independent, and ye have to make your own choices, but your people need ye. You
’
re their best hope for surviving all these changes
—
ye
’
ve lived in the outside world. Ye could be like an ambassador for them
—
help them learn how to get along in this new home.
”
Skemtun
’
s voice weakened and faded as he finished. He fell back on his pillow.

His pleading, coupled with his condition, weakened Tallin
’
s resistance.
“
To be sure, there is much to be done.
”

Skemtun looked at him with pleading eyes.
“
Please, Tallin. Do this for our people.
”

Tallin pursed his lips. After a moment of silence, he finally nodded.
“
Alright. I
’
ll do it
—
if the clans accept me.
”

Skemtun
’
s bleary eyes spilled over with grateful tears.
“
Thank ye,
”
he whispered, reaching out to clasp Tallin
’
s hand. The old man
’
s fingers were ice-cold.

From across the room, Utan watched their quiet exchange  with a knowing smile.

Skemtun wheezed, and then closed his eyes. That was the last time that anyone spoke to him. Later that evening, Skemtun slipped into a coma and never awoke. Three days later, he died, and Tallin was nominated as his replacement. As expected, the other clans voted for him unanimously
—
with the sole exception of Bolrakei.

Sela and Elias stayed to congratulate Tallin on his new position.

They wanted to stay a few more days, but Brinsop announced that she had to return to the desert immediately
—
she was pregnant
…
and ready to nest. And if anyone remembered that Brinsop and Blacktooth had spent a great deal of time alone
—
well, no one said so.

Druknor left Highport the day after the elections, journeying through the snow back to his northern keep. His two dogs were foraging for food somewhere near the side of the road. It had been a long journey from Highport, and there had been little time to gather supplies, but he was tired of all the dwarf politics and anxious to return to home.

The journey had been hard so far, especially without help, but he made his way north on his horse. Twice, he had been attacked by robbers on the road. Twice, he
’
d left their bodies for the crows to eat and had taken what little they had in the way of supplies for himself.

The robbery attempts hadn
’
t bothered him
—
not really. What had really angered him was the fact that neither of the robbers had recognized him. In Sut-Burr, he was the absolute ruler. He was the most feared man in all of the Frigid Waste, to whom every smuggler owed their cut. His name was respected and feared; it was whispered among the people in the shadows. Yet these men on the road had treated him like he was just some lonely traveler.

“
I
’
m almost home,
”
he muttered to himself. He yanked the reins harder, forcing his horse to move faster. The beast would keep up, or it would die. Druknor had not built his reputation by being compassionate.

It would be better once he returned home. Just a few more days
—
it wasn
’
t far now. He started to plan what he would do when he got back. A warm bath, some quiet time, and a nice bottle of wine sounded wonderful.  Then he would set about putting his house back in order and go would from there.

He whistled sharply to call his dogs back. They
’
d been hunting long enough. They could bring down a deer in seconds and could kill a man even quicker. But they still knew enough to obey him. With dogs, as with people, the key was to be the strongest in the pack.

There was no sign of his dogs. He whistled again. He didn
’
t hear any barking. They should have come running.  Druknor kept riding and decided to punish the dogs when they finally arrived. Fear only worked when it was well maintained.

Somewhere in the semi-darkness, a shadow passed. He reined in his horse and squinted off into the distance. Was it a bear? Druknor paused, and then cursed himself for being so easily startled. It was likely nothing, and even if it proved to be something, Druknor would just kill it.

The biggest disappointment had been his wasted journey to Highport. Oh, sure, Sut-Burr wasn
’
t going to be overrun by orcs anytime soon, and that was something, but Druknor had been invited there by the promise of something more. Far more.

There had been the promise of everything that would happen if Bolrakei became ruler of the dwarves
—
the pickings from whatever unrest that followed, and the chance to run a smuggling route openly through Highport. There had been the promise of greater favor from Miklagard. Being allied with Miklagard would have given Druknor power and immunity on a vast scale. But nothing had gone as planned, and the entire journey was a disaster from start to finish.

Another shadow moved out in the dim light. This time, Druknor drew his sword, but he did not stop. Few things would dare fight him out in the open.

Druknor whistled for his dogs again. No answer.

“
Bugger it,
”
he said to himself.

“
Talking to yourself again, Druknor?
”
The voice came out of the shadows. Druknor recognized it instantly. His mouth went dry.

“
Skera-Kina?
”
he whispered.

“
I
’
m so glad you remember me,
”
she called back.

Druknor whirled around but couldn
’
t see her. Druknor called again for his dogs.

Skera-Kina laughed. The deep sound resonated in the frigid air.
“
Your hounds aren
’
t coming, Druknor. Not today. Not ever.
”

“
Are you here to frighten me, Skera-Kina?
”

“
Yes. But I plan to do more than that,
”
she said. She stepped out onto the road, directly in front of Druknor.

Druknor looked around frantically, searching for some advantage.
“
Don
’
t be a fool, Skera-Kina. You can
’
t kill me
—
I
’
m the only spy you have on the mainland.
”

“
Ah yes
…
you
’
re referring to the information you give us. So carefully selected. Do you ever tell anyone the whole truth?
”

“
Stay back!
”
he shouted.

“
You
’
re afraid. I can see that you are trembling.
”

He could hardly deny it.
“
What
—
what do you want from me? A bargain? Is this about the slave prices? We can negotiate, you know.
”

Skera-Kina
’
s smile was a threatening grimace drawn tight with anger.
“
I don
’
t care about your business, Druknor. I
’
ve got an old debt to settle with you. Do you remember a little elfling girl you sold to the Balborites?
”

“
I sold many slaves over the years. What
’
s your point?
”

“
My point? My point?
”
she hissed,
“
My point is that you sold that little girl, who was then turned into a weapon. You sold me, Druknor. You sold me like a piece of meat!
”

Druknor gasped despite himself. Then he forced himself to laugh.
“
You can
’
t kill me, Skera-Kina. The High Priest won
’
t allow it.
”

Skera-Kina smiled back at him.
“
Didn
’
t you hear, Druknor? It
’
s High Priestess Skera-Kina now.
”

Druknor felt the blood drain from his face. If Skera-Kina was telling the truth, then there was nothing stopping her now. Nothing standing between her and his death.  But he wasn
’
t going to just stand there and die quietly.

He charged at Skera-Kina with a roar, swinging his sword. Druknor was strong, but Skera-Kina parried the attack easily. She circled away as Druknor tried to follow, whirling his swords to keep her at bay.

“
I
’
ve been waiting for this moment for a long time,
”
she said, dodging as Druknor swung again.
“
I
’
ve spent a lot of time thinking about all the ways I might kill you.
”

Druknor feinted one way and then kicked up dirt in an attempt to blind her. Skera-Kina ducked low, sweeping her blade at Druknor
’
s knees so he was forced to jump back.

There was something in her eyes that made Druknor shudder. He knew the things that the Balborites could do to their prisoners, but he attempted to keep up his fa
ç
ade of bravado all the same.

“
A little rusty with that blade?
”
Druknor asked as he swung at Skera-Kina with his own. She swiped his sword away with a quick movement of her wrist.

“
Impressive,
”
she said.
“
You
’
ve gotten better with a blade.
”

“
Perhaps you underestimate me,
”
he replied.