The King's Ring (The Netherworld Gate Book 2) (12 page)

A new wave of enemies emerged from the smoke.

Reciting the prayer aloud again, Didger was able to scramble to a kneeling position. His left hand held the spear and his right hand wielded the axe. One of the charging soldiers skewered himself on the spear before any of them realized that Didger was there. The other two froze in disbelief. The hesitation cost them their lives. The captain swung the axe down and cleaved one of the men from the collarbone down to his stomach. As the man fell, the axe was tugged out of Didger’s grasp, so he quickly retracted the spear and swung it like a long mace at the third foe. The spearhead slammed into the side of the soldier’s skull, opening a large gash and resounding with a dull, wet
slack!
The soldier went down instantly.

Four more soldiers rushed out of the smoke and up the pile of rubble. One tripped on one of the corpses and slammed into the pile of stone face first. Didger smiled and then set about finishing the others. He struck out with the spear and caught one of the soldiers in the right thigh. The spear drove in deep until it hit the bone and then the head snapped off. The man went down, wailing and holding his leg.

Didger slashed out with the sharp, broken shaft at the nearest foe, drawing a red line across the man’s sword hand. The soldier recoiled his arm, but he retained his sword. The fourth soldier landed a heavy warhammer strike on Didger’s right shoulder. What was only a clean slice now mashed into a gruesome mess of flesh and blood. There was a definite crunching of bone as the weight of the weapon crushed through. Didger winced and his arm fell limp beside him. Never before had he felt such pain. His right side burned, red spots and yellow lights appeared before his face, and his nose filled with the smell of sulfur. Yet he did not falter. Again he shouted the warrior’s prayer. Didger struck out with the wooden shaft of the spear, beating the assailant repeatedly and forcing the man into a defensive position.

The swordsman charged in again, ready to strike. He raised his sword high, but an arrow shaft pierced his heart. A second later there were shouts coming from behind Didger. His soldiers had returned for him. The four men finished off the two foes without delay and formed a defensive position around their captain. Didger was emboldened by the sight of his men and struggled to a standing position. “It’s about time, men,” he scolded with a cough.

“Our apologies sir,” Corporal Faet replied without turning back. “We lost you in the smoke for a moment, but we are here now.”

“Then let us send these dogs to Hammenfein!” Didger snarled.

After he finished his words a wave of twenty soldiers poured out from the smoke and scrambled up the rubble. The five Zinferth soldiers powered through the onslaught, felling each of the twenty attackers, adding their bodies to the pile of rubble and debris. Another wave of twenty men emerged from the smoke and charged the five soldiers. This time, arrows from the battlements above rained down on the attackers before they reached the five Zinferthian soldiers.

“The smoke is still pretty thick up here, captain, but we’ll do our best to help as we can,” one of the archers called out from above.

Didger looked up and waived to his comrade in appreciation. He looked back to the smoke just in time to see a solid wall of foes burst through the black screen. He gave up counting at forty, and held his broken spear at the ready. He and his men fought valiantly. They slew foe after foe, kicking the corpses back down the hill of broken masonry to trip up their enemy while the archers from above pelted the attackers with arrows. Didger and his men fought with the strength of ogres, confident that they had been blessed by Basei himself, but in the end they were overrun as the full force of the enemy horde washed over the rubble and into the city.

The din of swords soon rose to a thunderous tumult as the soldiers from Shausmat stormed the city. Khatthun was heavily outnumbered. The surprise and efficacy of the attack had left them crippled. There was no way that the soldiers, even with the added might of the militia and other citizens, could organize a proper response to the slaughter. The city never stood a chance. By the end of the afternoon, Shausmatian flags flew from the towers and battlement. Thousands were hewn down by the blade, and many more were grievously wounded.

At sundown, Governor Pixier was beheaded in the public square.

Unbeknownst to anyone in Khatthun, a similar battle was on its way to Blundfish at the same time.

*****

Governor Kimmel tapped his knuckles on the cherry-wood desk before him and stared out the window. From his office on the fourth floor of the municipal building, he could just see over the western wall to the plains beyond. His line of sight ended in the hills off in the western horizon. He glanced back down to the letter on the desk and brought his hand up to twirl his pointed moustache.

“Well?” asked Amdur.

Governor Kimmel looked up to eye the old, gray bearded man sitting on the divan and nursing a glass of whiskey. “Well what?” Kimmel groused.

“What are you going to do about Boots?” Amdur asked.

“Boots is dead, what else is there to do?” Kimmel snapped. “He and his whole group have been killed.”

“Precisely my point,” Amdur said with a finger in the air. He took another sip of his drink and set the glass onto the table next to him. He leaned forward and coughed. After he cleared his throat he shook his head. “You are supposed to keep your dogs off of organizations like his. Granted, occasionally they might fight amongst themselves over some hovel or shop in the poorer districts, but your guards are supposed to stay out of it.”

Kimmel wiped a hand down his face and let out an impatient sigh. “I told you before, they weren’t
my
men, and I don’t know where they came from.”

“Then why is it only today that you have agreed to see me?” Amdur pressed.

“Because, if I were to meet with you immediately afterward, someone would notice. While it is true I have enough men in my pocket to keep things profitable for all of us, not
all
of my officers would tolerate it.”

“I heard there were two Rangers among the dead, and a Shausmatian trader, is that true?”

Kimmel nodded and pointed to the bottle of whiskey. “Since you feel free enough to help yourself to my booze, how about you make yourself useful and pour me a glass.”

“
Your booze
,” Amdur said as he frowned and cocked his head to the side. “I should have thought you would remember who it was who placed your gilded arse in the governor’s chair. Not that I need you to come out and fawn over me, but the occasional expression of gratitude would be appreciated.”

“We have other problems now,” Kimmel said as he tapped the letter on the desk. “Rasselin has been sacked.”

Amdur paused and took it in. Then he reached over and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. He stood and carried it over to set it on the desk before Kimmel. “What do you intend to do?” he asked.

“What else can I do? I have to raise a militia. Can you bring the families together on this? I need their support.”

“Unite the five remaining families against a common enemy,” Amdur mused. He scoffed and shook his head. “No, I suppose that is not very reasonable.”

“Why would you say that?”

“The Telbaros family and the Sylvanis have deep familial roots to Shausmat from before the empire split. I am certain that they will throw in their lot with the enemy. The others, the Brumsted family, the Gregaens, and the Fimoral will all be too busy trying to loot each other to form any sort of cohesive front.”

Kimmel nodded and kicked back a glass of whiskey in one fell swoop. He twitched his head sideways and gasped a bit as his eyes teared up. “You are supposed to keep me apprised of the situation when a family decides to do something that could be detrimental to the city.” Kimmel poured another glass. “If the Telbaros and Sylvanis are both going to defect, then it would not matter much what we do in terms of raising a defense. The Telbaros men are the backbone of the officer corps among the Blundfish city guard.” He shook his head.

“And the Sylvanis produce a fair share of the troops that line the walls.” Amdur frowned and sighed heavily. “I think it best if we sit this one out, old boy,” Amdur said. “The good news for us is that the enemy will most likely come across the land, so we can escape by ship if we are quick.”

Kimmel narrowed his eyes on the old man and pointed a finger at him from behind the glass of whiskey, some of the golden brown liquid spilled out as he jabbed his finger in the air. “You have sold yourself out too, haven’t you?”

Amdur shrugged. “The militia will not hold. The army is riddled with corrupt, greedy officers—”

“My officers are corrupt because you forced me to make them so!” Kimmel shouted.

“Keep your shirt on,” Amdur said. “My point is the city won’t stand. It is hollow on the inside and has no core strength. Once the walls fall, the city will be turned to dust. But I did pay for
both
of us to escape. A little exit strategy I’ve had in back pocket for some time now.” Amdur topped off his glass of whiskey. “The families will devour whatever the enemy army leaves behind. It is best for us to leave.”

“I have a wife,” Kimmel said.

“I never liked her anyway,” Amdur shrugged as he took a sip. “And I don’t think you did either.”

Kimmel grinned and snorted. “I suppose not,” he said.

“We should go,” Amdur announced somberly. “They are coming.”

Kimmel turned to look out the window. A cloud of dust rose up over the hills on the horizon. He couldn’t see anything clearly, but he knew what it was. The dust cloud blanketed the hills, covering the movement that stirred it up. “They are fast.”

“We should go,” Amdur repeated. “If they have already overrun the border posts to the west, then it means there is no buffer left between the invaders and Blundfish. Our safety awaits at the docks.”

“Where are we going?” Kimmel asked.

“Likely to the halls of Hammenfein, but first I thought we should make a stop off in Selemet, far away from this nasty business that is going to sweep over our lands. I have already ordered our wealth to the bottom of a friend’s ship. We will have enough to live comfortably. What’s more, you and I have new travel papers with new identities. You are now my son, and I am your father. We are retired merchants.” Amdur set the whiskey down and made for the door.

Kimmel shook his head, looked to the wall where a painting of Blundfish hung, and then left. He and Amdur made their way out to the docks and were greeted by a dark-skinned merchant outfitted with a silk tunic and cotton pants that danced with the wind. A heavy scimitar hung from his left hip and his bright white teeth shined out from his smiling mouth under a thick moustache.

The ship was out in open waters hours before the first warning bells sounded.

Jaleal wiped the saltwater from his face for the millionth time. The orca moved up and down rhythmically. Its massive body rose and dove through the surface of the water effortlessly, careful to keep enough of its back above the surface so Jaleal wouldn’t have to hold his breath.

The warrior gnome had enjoyed the trip once he got over his initial nervousness about riding a marine animal that could swallow him whole if it wanted. Despite fighting dragons and tangling with assassins in recent months, there was something about this beast that unnerved him. On land, he was an able warrior, confident and sure. In the ocean, he was nothing more than a floating meal. It didn’t help that the orcas all had teeth the length of daggers either. Still, after the first ten minutes of riding the orca, Jaleal’s fears subsided for the most part and he let himself enjoy the unique experience.

The salty water sprayed up into his face and the wind kissed his cheeks as the pod of orcas zipped along the coastline with alarming speed. Phinean and Jaleal both had to hold onto the dorsal fins of their respective orca to keep from sliding off. It was exhilarating to say the least.

The excitement turned to drudgery as the minutes grew to hours. The orcas stopped only at night, resting atop the water’s surface and offering the only opportunity to allow Jaleal and Phinean to dry their feet and legs. Even the unobstructed view of the night sky did nothing to lift Jaleal’s spirits. It didn’t help that his stomach was snarling either.

Phinean ate raw fish that one of the orcas brought to him, but Jaleal was not so desperate to try that yet. As the days rolled on, he would find himself succumbing to his hunger pains and biting into the side of a slimy, raw fish and choking it down.

Now, with the added displeasure of the raw fish churning in his stomach, each up and down motion of the orca he rode nearly had him lurching over the side to retch. All that had happened so far was a couple of dry heaves along with the sickly burps that tasted of sulfur and fish guts. He knew they couldn’t slow their pace, so he kept his mouth shut and wiped the water from his face as a mist of ocean spray exploded up in front of him and then coated his torso and head.

When they finally saw land again, Jaleal nearly leapt off from his blackfish to swim himself to shore. His eyes glued themselves to the green trees along the coast and even the pains in his stomach seemed to subside.

“We have another day yet to travel,” Phinean called out.

Jaleal’s smile disappeared instantly and his shoulders slumped as he dropped his head to lean it upon the side of his orca’s dorsal fin. He let out a heavy, groaning sigh. A heavy splash to Jaleal’s left alerted him that Phinean was coming in close with his orca. He looked up to see the other gnome riding alongside him, smiling sympathetically.

“When night comes, we can rest on land, if you like,” Phinean put in. “We won’t be able to travel inland from here though, look beyond the trees.”

Jaleal looked up and saw treacherous cliffs jutting out from behind the thin carpet of green trees lining the coast. From where he sat, the cliffs looked tall, but not overly dangerous.

“We can’t climb them,” Phinean said as if reading the thoughts in Jaleal’s mind. “The cliffs are infested with a terrible breed of wyverns. They are venomous and extremely territorial. Even to sleep upon the beach here would be to invite disaster.”

Jaleal frowned and looked away from the land. “Where will we stay then?” he asked.

“There is a small island, barely more than a mound of dirt with a couple of palm trees on it. We will reach that by nightfall. There we can make fire and have cooked fish.”

The mention of the word fish made Jaleal cringe and shudder.

“Or,” Phinean began after seeing Jaleal’s reaction, “we could look for crab. There are usually some large crabs around this island, and mussels also.”

“As long as we fire them,” Jaleal put in quickly. “I don’t want another bite of raw food.”

Phinean nodded. “From that island it will be a short distance to our landing spot. Hang in there one more day. We’ll be alright.”

Jaleal sighed and resigned himself to hanging onto the dorsal fin. He closed his eyes and imagined his home. He thought about the trees and the meadow. He imagined he was walking among the poppies and marigolds.

A splash of water washed over his face, some of the liquid going up into his nostrils. He spat out the water from his mouth and snorted heavily to blow the salt from his nose. He grimaced and shifted positions, trying to find an angle where the dorsal fin would offer some protection from the spray.

When they finally reached the island, Jaleal clumsily slipped off the orca and waded up to the beach, throwing himself down on his back and grasping huge clumps of wet sand in his fists.

“I’ll get some food,” Phinean said as he casually walked by.

Jaleal noticed the sour look Phinean shot him when he didn’t offer to help gather food, but he didn’t care. He was going to lie upon the sand and let his stomach settle. He didn’t move from his spot on the beach until he heard the crackling fire and the sun was beginning to drop behind the western horizon. Even then he moved slowly, walking with shaky legs to the fire.

Phinean looked up and smiled as he moved his arm in a sweeping gesture toward a large, rectangular piece of stone that was situated over the fire. Upon the gray slab were several crabs, two large fish, and a dozen mussels of varying size.

“I also have this,” Phinean said as he turned around and pulled a large coconut from behind. The top had been sliced off, leaving a hole to drink from. “Don’t drink all of it, or it can give you the runs, if you know what I mean.”

Jaleal nodded and took the coconut. He drank the sweet, cool juice and then handed it back to Phinean. “Thank you,” he offered.

Phinean smiled. “I remember the first time I traveled this way. It wasn’t easy.” The gnome took a drink from the coconut and then pointed to the food. “Let’s eat. Tomorrow we will be at Elroa’s tower. There we shall have a dinner more like what you are accustomed to. He’ll have a good store of bread and fruits.”

Jaleal nodded and reached out to grab one of the crabs.

Phinean grabbed a different crab and showed Jaleal how to break the legs off and open them up. The two of them ate until only the fish were left upon the hot stone. Jaleal was still hungry, but the mere sight of the fish made his stomach flip. He turned and laid down upon the sand again.

Phinean ate one of the fish and hung the other over a branch for the night, leaving it for the morning.

To Jaleal’s utter delight, the next day was indeed a short one at sea. Before mid-day, they spotted their landing area. The orcas danced and weaved between jagged spires of rock stabbing upward from the sea until they came to what seemed like a dead end. A sheer cliff of gray and black stone rose up from the water. A handful of swallows swooped and looped in the air above them. Jaleal shook his head as he studied the rock. There was no way to climb it.

“Hold your nose,” Phinean called out unexpectedly.

Jaleal turned a questioning look to the other gnome, but Phinean only sucked in a huge breath and patted his orca. The massive creature then dove down into the water, with Phinean clinging to the dorsal fin.

“No,” Jaleal said. “I am not doing that.”

The orca beneath him rose up and then the head went under. The angle of descent was sharp enough that Jaleal had only moments to choose between holding the dorsal fin, or sliding off and remaining at the surface.

“No!” Jaleal called out. “I am not…” Jaleal grabbed the fin and took a deep breath at the last moment before the orca pulled him under the blue water. The orca pumped its tail furiously, dragging Jaleal further down into the darkness. The salt in the water stung the warrior gnome’s eyes, but he kept them open anyway. As they dove down amidst the spires of rock that rose up from the ocean floor, he noticed a great hole in the cliffs. His orca leveled out and swam for the hole hastily. Jaleal had to hold the fin with both hands to keep from sliding off.

Blackness swallowed him. His feet smacked against the rock in the cave as they dangled out behind him, but he wasn’t hurt. He pulled in closer to the orca’s fin, hoping that he was not about to have his head smashed in by colliding with a wall at the end of this dismal abyss.

Jaleal then felt the orca pull upward. They accelerated until finally the sun light broke through the water above and offered a bit of illumination. They emerged from the hole and entered what Jaleal could only describe as a bowl of water held within a stone basin. The water here was at least thirty yards deep, and it took a couple of seconds for the orca to breach the surface. When they crashed onto the top of the water, Jaleal gasped for another breath. He could hear Phinean laughing and calling out from somewhere in front of them. The water logged gnome struggled to slide back onto his orca so he could sit on its back and regain his breath. He wiped the water from his burning eyes and looked around. Somehow, they had found a secret alcove behind the cliff. Jaleal saw the gray and black stone rising behind them, but in front of them was a sandy beach.

Phinean pointed to a narrow, canyon-like passage beyond the beach. “We can reach the main part of the island through here. Come on, we aren’t more than a few hours walk away from Elroa’s tower.”

Jaleal’s orca obediently swam toward the beach and then Jaleal slipped off. He watched as Phinean pet each of the orcas on their head and then bent down to whisper his thanks. When he was done, he turned to Jaleal and smiled.

“They are magnificent creatures,” he said. “With any luck, we are at least a day ahead of the assassin. Come on, let’s hurry.”

Jaleal struggled to keep up with Phinean for the first few seconds. His legs were a bit wobbly and uneven in their strides, but he soon overcame it and was keeping pace easily. They slipped through the winding canyon until it opened up into a lush forest of oaks, pines, alders, and palm trees. It was a forest unlike anything Jaleal had seen before.

As they wound their way through the brush and trees, Jaleal realized he hadn’t bothered to ask who Elroa was. He had been so ill the night before, that all he had cared about was resting on an unmoving bed away from the water. Now that he had his senses back about him, he decided it was worthwhile to ask.

“Is Elroa another elf?” Jaleal asked.

Phinean nodded. “He is.”

Jaleal waited as they ducked under a leaning tree for more explanation. When Phinean didn’t offer any, he pressed the matter. “What does he have to do with this?”

Phinean looked back with a frown, as if Jaleal should have already known. “Why, he holds the king’s ring of course.”

“The king’s ring?” Jaleal echoed.

Phinean stopped running and turned to Jaleal. “King Dailex’s ring. It was one of the relics used to banish the Sierri’Tai. Elroa has it, and the assassin needs it.”

Phinean turned to resume running, but Jaleal reached out and stopped him. “Hold on a moment,” Jaleal said. “What’s our plan?”

Phinean shrugged. “Stop the assassin.”

“That’s it?” Jaleal asked. “Just go to the tower and kill the bad guy.”

Phinean frowned and glanced at Jaleal’s spear. “You said you have hunted dragons before, what is one human to a warrior like that?”

Jaleal sighed and shook his head. “It might help to have a plan.”

Phinean shrugged. “Warn Elroa, tell him to leave and take the ring. Then we set a trap at the tower and wait. The assassin has to come there some time to get the ring.” Phinean then pulled away and gestured for Jaleal to follow him.

Jaleal looked up to the trees above and shook his head. “Sure,” he said under his breath. “That sounds like a great plan.” Suddenly he found himself wishing that Master Lepkin was with him. Lepkin always had a plan. As Phinean put considerable distance between the two gnomes, Jaleal found himself jogging along to catch up. The words of Phinean’s question replayed in his mind over and over. He had to admit that the other gnome had a point. What was a single human compared with a dragon? The more Jaleal thought about it, the more he wanted to agree with Phinean that it would be a simple task to stop the assassin, but something nagged at his soul. This was different somehow.

Perhaps it was the fact that he didn’t know this assassin. He had known Tu’luh the Red. More than that, he had had a vendetta against the dragon. This assassin was little more than a shadow to him. He was an unknown enigma, and that presented a different kind of danger. Then again, perhaps he was overanalyzing things. How bad could one human be?

*****

As Phinean had promised, the gnomes had reached Elroa’s tower and were eating a proper meal before the sun went down. Jaleal kept mostly to himself, happy to eat from plants and animals that had not come from the sea while Phinean and Elroa scurried about the upper room of the tower where the elf’s living and dining area were located. Jaleal watched their interactions as Elroa hurriedly prepared a day pack while Phinean relayed to him all that had happened with the human assassin.

“It’s best that you don’t tell me where you are going,” Phinean said. “If the human bests us, I don’t want to bear the burden of revealing where you are hiding.”

Elroa was tall, even for an elf. He stood almost seven feet tall, and was so thin that it looked as though he never ate a morsel of food in his life. His narrow, green eyes turned sharply on Jaleal for a moment, and then flicked out across the room looking for something. He crossed the room in only a few paces, with his long legs stretching out nearly three times the length a gnome could cover with a single step. It was more than his odd physique and loping gait that set him apart from the other elves Jaleal had seen, however. Elroa’s boots were not the refined, polished leather Jaleal had seen in the other elf cities. He didn’t adorn himself with precious jewelry either. Instead, he had a bracelet of dark wooden beads on is right wrist. A single feather was braided into his hair, and his tunic was earthen brown, as were his trousers. In all things, he was as plain as a poor woodsman, though one look about the tower told Jaleal that there was wealth in Elroa’s possession.