Obsidian Ridge (23 page)

The spiders were almost on him, and the horror had squeezed itself out of the crack in the wall, closing in.

“Up here! Quick!”

Quinn looked up to see Evelyne’s upper body sticking out of a round hole between two stalactites, maybe twice his height off the floor.

She hung down, extending her aims. “Grab my hand. I’ll pull you up.”

Bending his legs, he leaped into the air just as the first of the spiders arrived. His right hand wrapped around hers, and his left caught the edge of the hole. With surprising speed, Evelyne scampered back into the space in the ceiling of the cave.

Quinn felt the spiders’ limbs feebly try to pull him back down. But it was no use. With both hands now on solid stone, the Claw pulled himself up and out of the cavern, tumbling forward into the darkness ahead.

The moon had passed its zenith long ago, its measured descent now almost complete. One more shift of the city watch and the sun would begin to rise, filling the void left by the moon’s departure.

But until then, darkness ruled.

Two half-ores, concealed by the magic woven into their armor, climbed the sheer wall of Klarsamryn. They moved slowly, silently. There were far too many guards on duty that night to be careless.

At the top of the wall, the two assassins waited, listening. When the time was right, they nodded to one another, and as one they slipped over the edge and onto the king’s personal terrace.

Without a sound they slit the throats of the two guards standing outside the door. With barely more than a whisper, they did the same to the two inside the room. Stalking across the floor, they reached the side of the king’s bed where they unwrapped their specially prepared blades.

Had the king been awake, he would have seen the two half-ores silhouetted against the last of the moon’s light coming in through the open glass door. He would have seen them lift their knives, dripping with poison. He would have also seen what neither of the two assassins did—a lithe black figure bounding over the edge of the terrace.

It landed at the edge of the room, even more silent than the half-ores. It strode purposefully across the marble, careful not to disturb the dead guards, then crept up behind the two assassins, looking them over once, from head to toe.

Then it tore into them like sacks of grain.

It bit down on one, wrenching away a mouthful of broken ribs, punctured stomach, and shredded bowels. The other it simply cut in two, jamming sharpened claws into its back, and ripping it open. Both of its victims screamed in surprise and agony, their hearts finished beating before their blood hit the floor.

+++++

King Korox awoke to a blood-curdling scream.

His heavy wool blanket pinned his body, and a beast like he’d never seen was sitting atop his chest. He wondered for a moment if he wasn’t dreaming—a jet black creature with the face of a bat, the claws of a tiger, and the teeth of a shark peering down on him with the eyes of a wizened old man. Surely this beast was a product of an overworked imagination.

The creature sniffed him, shifting its claws as it did. They punctured the blanket and bit into Korox’s upper arm.

This was no dream. This was a beast sent by Bane himself.

“Alarm! Alarm!” shouted Korox, trying in vain to get loose.

The creature distended its jaw, opening its mouth wide enough to wrap its teeth all the way around the king’s head. It let out a satisfied purr, as if it was enjoying the panic. Then it bent down, slowly lowering its teeth. The creature let out a breath, and the foul stench of rotten meat and blood wafted over the king, making him gag.

The door to his chambers burst open, and the room exploded in light. There was a heavy commotion and the

twang of crossbows. Korox could feel the creature on top of him jolt from the impact, but if it was in pain, it didn’t react.

The king heard running footsteps, and in the next second, the beast was torn from atop him. Suddenly free, Korox threw his blanket away and rolled out of bed. He grabbed the candelabrum from the nightstand and held it up like a club. But it was too late, the creature had been cut to ribbons by Captain Kaden and the dozen other Magistrates who had charged into the room.

“My lord, are you hurt?” Captain Kaden rushed to his side.

King Korox brushed him off. “No. No, I’m fine.” He lifted his nightshirt to examine the puncture wounds on his upper arms. He bled some, but it was little more than a flesh wound.

The king turned his attention to the carnage on the floor of his private chamber. Four guards lay dead, two on the terrace, two inside the room itself. It was clear from the wounds that they had been dispatched by the two half-ores now also dead on the floor.

The assassins, however, had suffered a far worse fate. Their bodies were shredded, one with a huge bite out of its abdomen.

“It’s a good thing we arrived when we did,” said Kaden, eyeing the half-ores.

“I’m not sure it was a matter of timing,” replied the king. “If that creature had really wanted to kill me, it had plenty of time.”

“Do you think Xeries is working with the Matron?” Captain Kaden toed the creature’s dead body. “That would explain why this beast and the half-ores are here.”

The king shook his head. “I don’t know. If the Matron kidnapped my daughter to turn her over to Xeries, then why hasn’t she done that? What can she gain from all of this posturing? And why would she offer to help fight Xeries then

send assassins to my bedroom?” He stepped over one of the fallen killers. “And from the looks of things, these two”—he pointed at the beast and at one of the half-ores—”didn’t like each other much.”

The king moved to a nearby table and poured some water into a basin from a clay pitcher. He dabbed a piece of cloth in the water and began wiping the blood from his arm.

“There is one person who I believe, with the proper motivation, can shed some more light on this.” He looked up from his gruesome work. “Have Whitman brought up from the dungeon. I wish to interrogate him further.”

Through the open door, the sounds of men shouting and fighting caught the king’s ear.

“What now?” he growled.

King Korox and Captain Kaden burst out into the hall. Magistrates ran past, toward the entry and the audience chamber.

Captain Kaden grabbed a Magistrate as he darted by. “What’s happening, soldier?”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” he said, saluting quickly. “I thought you had heard. Klarsamryn is under attack.”

+++++

Quinn found himself once again crawling through a dark tunnel, following a woman he hardly knew.

Time was running short. He’d been down here for nearly a full day now and had less than nothing to show for his efforts. If he didn’t find Mariko soon… well, he didn’t want to think about the options.

The tunnel opened into a wider passage similar to the one Quinn had traversed when he had first arrived in the Cellar. It seemed since he had met Evelyne, he hadn’t used any of the hallways intended for actual travel.

“We can rest here a moment,” said Evelyne, getting to her feet and stretching her back.

“Where to next?” Quinn examined the walls. No water here.

Evelyne shrugged. “Dunno,” she said. “That cavern was my best guess. I figure we’ll just have to wander around a bit and hope we find this lost princess of yours.” She touched her toes, twisted, then hitched her thumb over her shoulder. “There’s another tunnel not far this way—”

“No.” Quinn cut her off. “No more tunnels.”

“Look, it’s the safest—”

“I said no. If there is one thing I know about the princess, it’s that she’s not crawling around on her hands and knees in the cracks between the walls. If we have any chance of finding her, if we’re going to stumble around here blindly hoping that we run into her, then we need to cover the ground that she and her captors are using.”

“Her captors? You didn’t mention captors.”

“Why else would she be down here?”

“Same reason as me, maybe.”

“And what reason is that?” asked Quinn.

“Because I crossed someone I shouldn’t.”

“You mean you broke the law, and you were sentenced to this place by the king.”

“It wasn’t the king,” said Evelyne, smiling. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t have approved of my behavior.”

“Well,” said Quinn, not quite sure what she meant. “Maybe we’re better off leaving it at that. Come.” He turned and headed down the passageway, placing his right hand on the wall as he walked. “When I was in the army, my captain used to say, ‘When in doubt, follow the wall to the right. Eventually, you’ll find what you’re looking for.’ “

“Sounds like a dumb captain,” replied Evelyne, reluctantly falling into step behind him. “But I guess since we don’t know where we’re going, this way is as good as any.”

Korox lifted his arms and let the fine elven chain shirt with his twin red wyvern crest slip over his body. Squires dashed back and forth, bringing the king his weapons and armor. He walked as he dressed, pieces clinging to him as he went. With each step he transformed. Though he was tall and broad shouldered, he became larger than life. His boots gave him more height. His armor made him more imposing. His sword made him more dangerous, and his helm made him look mean.

Captain Kaden stood beside the door, twitching and pacing. He gripped the hilt of his sword even though it was firmly planted in its sheath. The king could tell he was ready for battle. And that was good. Korox was going to need all of his men to be ready.

Slipping his sword into his belt, the king stepped up beside the head of the Magistrates and slapped him on the arm.

“Let’s go take back our palace,” said Korox.

The two men stepped out of the door and made their way down the hall.

In the short time between being attacked in his bed and pulling on his armor, the portcullis had been breached and the great hall swamped with invaders. This was the first time since Erlkazar had become a country independent from Tethyr that the halls of its capitol had been breached by an enemy.

King Korox picked up his pace. Today was not going to be the day Klarsamryn fell.

Down the hall and through his private entrance, King Korox and Captain Kaden stepped into the audience chamber—and into the pages of history.

What had been designed as a place of peace, a place of negotiations, a place where the ruler of Erlkazar could conduct his business without being perceived as a tyrant, there now raged a horrific battle.

Malicious, misshapen beasts from the Obsidian Ridge swarmed in every corner. They blotted out the light. Anything bright or good about this room was swallowed by their darkness and evil. The white marble floor ran red with blood. The statues that adorned the outer wall were all torn from their stands, many smashed to bits. Even the ceiling, with its painted reminder of the dark days of Eleint, was not left unscathed—a soldier’s sword jutted from the stone overhead, its edge dripping with black ichor.

In the center of it all, Magistrates stood back to back, their swords striking in unison, their movements frantic as they fought for their lives. Mixed into the melee were soldiers from the regular army, their uniforms less elaborate, but their skill in battle no less sharp. And on the edge, spilling from the many secret doors that fed into and out of this chamber, came the Watchers, Princess Mariko’s spies and the king’s eyes in Erlkazar.

The seat of power was under attack. Lines of battle and discipline had broken down, devolving into a free-for-all. One look at the faces of the men and women fighting to defend the throne of their king and it was clear. Everything they stood for, everything they had ever held sacred, was in jeopardy, and they fought now not just for honor and duty. They fought now because this fight was all they had left, for if they did not win, all that they knew would be gone.

King Korox Morkann pulled his enchanted blade from its sheath. With one step and one stroke, he cut down a black

beast. With another step and another swing, he cut down a second. And so it continued, Captain Kaden at his side. The King of Erlkazar fought his way to the center of this swirling melee. He fought his way through the teeth and the mass of twisted blackened muscle until he reached his throne on its dais.

Dispatching the beast that sat upon it, he placed his foot upon the seat and lifted himself up to stand above the fight. There, poised atop his throne, Korox lifted his sword high in the air, looking down on his soldiers, the Magistrates, and the Watchers.

“For Erlkazar!” he shouted.

And in the next moment, he disappeared from view, buried by a pile of shiny black flesh.

+++++

Quinn made his way through the dark passage, the spell cast on his open palm lighting his way. He scanned ahead as he marched, not sure what he would find but hoping that he found it before it found him.

He waved his magical light over the wall at the next corner—and it lit up like the full moon on the clearest of nights.

“Trap!” shouted Evelyne, dodging back.

But Quinn shook her off. “Shh. This is no trap.”

Stepping up to the stone, he traced the line of light with his index finger, mimicking the lit symbol that had appeared when his own light had hit it. For the first time since arriving in the Cellar he finally had some hope.

“What are you doing?” Evelyne came up behind him, still cautious.

Quinn smiled at her and lifted his hand, showing her the glowing symbol on his palm—it perfectly matched the one on the wall.

“It’s the princess’s sigil,” he said. “She’s alive, or was not

that long ago.” His smile grew even wider, and he pulled Evelyne along down the hallway. “Hurry. We’re on the right track.”

+++++

A gasp went up in the audience chamber as Korox disappeared under a pile of black creatures.

“To the king!” shouted Captain Kaden.

The grunted exertions of men and the sound of metal cutting into flesh grew to a cacophony. This was not the entirety of Erlkazar’s fighting forces, not even close, but each of the nearly one thousand warriors who fought inside the palace had become a berserker. Each had found the strength of ten soldiers. And blood continued to spill, as those warriors fought and died.