Summoning up his courage, Riven had run his hand across its mouth. It was days old, but the blood was still wet. It had not crusted. What was more, the rat itself did not rot. It seemed like nothing wanted it. There were no maggots in its dead flesh or flies buzzing near it.
A year later Riven had tried the same thing with a particularly ruthless dog. It was rabid and had already claimed the life of one of the beggar boys in the street. It lived in one of the darker alleyways and was clever enough to not come out into the open.
None of the guards cared enough to kill it.
Everyone simply avoided the alleyway hoping that the animal would just starve and die. Or they would kill it when it came out into the open.
But it never came out into the open. Nor did it die starving.
It had become a scary story for kids on the street. Like a ghost story that grew in telling. But Riven knew the truth.
Riven had found that the alleyway was connected to the back of a butcher shop. The butcher himself threw away rotting meat into the alleyway and the dog survived by eating it.
There was more. He found out later that the butcher liked having the dog there because it kept away beggars from scavenging the meat he threw away.
Riven had wanted to kill the man, but he knew that would upset Toskk.
He went to the butcher shop the next day to buy some meat. He asked for pork shank. He didn't see it at the ready and he knew that it was one of the tougher meats to cut. The butcher would have to go into the back of the shop to fetch it.
There weren't too many people there at the shop. Riven quietly walked into the shop and saw a bucket on the side. Entrails. He knew that the bucket would go over the wall and into the alleyway. He took a small skinning knife from the table nearby and pierced his hand. The pain was sharp and he could feel warm blood running down his hand and into the pail. He didn't need to waste much. He leapt back outside just in time as the butcher reappeared with his meat.
And then Riven waited.
The alley was still deserted because everyone was scared to go in. But it had been two days. He would need to test the strength of his blood.
He walked slowly into the alleyway. He heard a scurrying noise and was suddenly paralyzed with fear. If it had been the dog, Riven would have been dead. He had no illusions about that. He had seen some of the dog's handiwork.
He was lucky and it just turned out to be a rat.
Riven walked deeper into the alleyway and saw it. The dog was lying dead in one corner curled up. A small distance away from it was a pile of half-eaten entrails. And among the entrails Riven could make out the color of his own blood. He had never seen anything so beautiful. So red.
He had tried it a few other times on various creatures, but its most interesting property was not its ability to kill. It did function as a poison, but what was the point of a poison that stood out so blatantly? Moreover, it caused excruciating pain and suffering. He couldn't put it in anyone's food. And he knew it had to enter the body of a creature to kill it.
But what was really interesting to Riven was that it could break enchantments. Some of their more valuable treasures, Toskk had purchased magical wards to put around the hiding spot. Even if it was under the floorboards. There was one particularly troubling one that acted as a force barrier. Riven could see the inscriptions glow as he tried to push his hand into the hiding spot. He had tried erasing the runes on the floorboards, but even water would just flow off the invisible dome.
On a sheer hunch, Riven held his hand above the spot and dropped some of his blood with a knife. The droplets pierced right through, and when they touched the rune, the rune was unwritten. Partially, but it was enough to break the barrier.
*
He poured the vial of blood onto his knife.
This close behind the shadow, Riven could see that the shadow was but a man. As he got closer, he could see the man's back. He could see his exposed neck as he craned his head to peer through a hole formed by the crates.
He needed to time it well. The clanks of the sewer machine were like clockwork.
He would have to go for the man's throat. Just as he did on the rooftop to save Toskk's life.
He was so close that he could see the man's cloak. It seemed as if it was made of shadow.
But the man's neck was flesh. He could see that much. The voice was never wrong.
Flesh. Wait and strike.
If the man turned, Riven would be dead. Worse, Toskk might be dead too. Daed, he didn't care about as much, but Toskk—he would find Toskk's death unbearable.
Riven shook his head. Stupid. Stop thinking about the deaths of other people.
You can get closer, said the voice as Riven grew cautious. The smell, the sound and the darkness. They all protect you, it said.
The man was hiding exactly where Riven thought he would be. He knew every puddle and every broken piece of wood lying in this tunnel. It had been unchanged since the day he first found it.
The clank would come. Riven counted the seconds to when he knew it would come.
And he leapt. The feeling of wind at his back would make the man turn. But it would already be too late. It was already too late.
Riven's dagger had struck the man's throat as he pivoted. The man already had his blade in his hands. He was fast. A moment slower, and Riven would have missed the man's neck. And the man's dagger would be in Riven's chest.
But it was an imagined future.
One that would never occur.
Not when he had planned this so carefully.
"Is he human?"
Human?
"Seemed to be. His voice was. And I felt his hand on my shoulder. So I guess he was."
Was he human? Not anymore. Now he was merely dead flesh.
Riven saw the man's blood flow from the wound in his neck. As usual, Riven could make out his own blood clearly. It would not mix with the man's blood.
Toskk and Daed were still talking.
Riven realized that he had been holding his breath.
He knelt down to examine the man's possessions. He had a jeweled dagger on his belt. Riven held the dagger and felt a small surge of electricity flow through his body. It was certainly magical. And its blade was like silver. Riven touched the sharp side with his finger and saw flesh part ever so slightly.
It was his prize. The man's short sword was a normal one. It was good, but he couldn't take it. It wouldn't be easily concealed.
His armor was black. It appeared magical at first, but now after the man's life had been extinguished it looked like ordinary leather. Whatever magic it had showed had been borne from the man himself.
Around the man's neck was an amulet. It appeared to be a silver circle with the moon and a star enclosed in it. It seemed very light to the touch.
Do not take it, said the voice.
Riven was curious, but he knew better than to doubt the voice.
He had about hundred gold in a pouch on his belt.
The man's cloak, however, seemed interesting. It retained its original black color, but when Riven ran his hand across it, it shimmered as if it was water. Riven tried pushing his hand through, but realized it was only an illusion of sorts. He tied the cloak into a small bundle and stuck it into his own belt. The cloth was so fine that it was no larger than a small ball of wool when he compressed it.
Toskk and Daed were almost done. Riven quietly walked back into the room.
"I'm not too sure," said Daed. He sounded worried for some reason. No. It was more likely fear.
They both fell silent. Riven pulled out his new blade to examine it. The light was reflecting perfectly off its silver surface. He knelt in front of a small puddle. He wanted to stick the blade into it. It was so clean. He knew it wouldn't get dirty even if he stuck the blade into the gooey green mess.
"I'll take care of it. We should get going now. Riven will be coming to check on you. The only thing I want to hear from you next is a time and place for the exchange, and the amount.
I'll take care of the rest."
It appeared the water in the puddle was parting as the blade entered it. As if refusing to let the filth touch its purity.
Yet Riven knew his own blood would not slide off of it that easily. If anything, he knew his blood would stick to it harder than to any surface.
His blood hurt things. His blood loved purity more than anything. There was a small popping sound.
Ugh. Riven covered his nose with one hand. He wondered how long the goo on the ground had been stuck together. It had to be a century old, the way it stank.
"Riv! That's disgusting!" Toskk said while covering his mouth. "You can take Daed home. I can find my way back."
"Fine," said Riven, sticking the blade back into his belt.
"Take that tunnel," said Riven pointing to one of the tunnels that he knew was absent a dead body.
"I thought we came in through this one," said Toskk, looking confused.
"They all join at the same place. That route is cleaner," lied Riven. They did join at the same place. Toskk would get a little confused, but he would find his way out anyway. It was better than him looking at the body and asking unnecessary questions.
"Very well. You know these damned tunnels better than I do."
Riven ran out of the third tunnel with Daed in tow.
He had work to do. He needed to find out what that symbol was among many other things. The circle with the star and moon inside it.
And he had another interesting thing to watch as well. The man Gale. He had become close friends with Ceívar.
Riven liked Ceívar. He was large drunk of a man. He was always loud and he owned some of the taverns in Archon. They were also whorehouses. Ceívar would always grab girls after getting drunk and spread them across the table to do it.
He would laugh loudly all the while, asking for more ale. And then he would down an entire jar of ale in one swig.
He always paid the girls when he was done. Very well, at that.
Riven never understood why he did that, though. Ceívar owned the entire place anyway.
And it was so much funnier watching Gale while he was with Ceívar. They were so different. Gale would sit silently and try to blend into the background. This was hard when Ceívar kept yelling and drawing attention all the time. Riven could sense Gale's frustration with Ceívar's antics. Ceívar would also pick fights with other men. This was when Riven really got interested in Ceívar. It was like the man had a different side to him. For all the drunkenness and how dull he appeared, Ceívar was very quick with a blade. And he was agile despite being so large.
They had been meeting there every day for the past week. They would always talk about other people. Other lieutenants under Renal. Perhaps they were spying on them.
Although Riven never understood why.
Ceívar would keep shouting that he was twice the man Renal was. And that he could take him in a fight any day.
Riven would not have liked to see that. As drunk as he was, hopefully, Ceívar's better senses would prevail. Hopefully. As skilled as Ceívar was, Renal would gut him within a second if it ever came to a fight between them.
They had been talking for some time about calling a sorceress. Riven would have liked to see that. He had seen mages before, but he had never seen a female one.
And they had also been talking about the shape of her bosom. From what he understood, the sorceress was supposed to be very beautiful.
She wouldn't arrive today anyway. Gale had been saying that she wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that and if Ceívar had any decency, he would set up the meeting elsewhere.
Perhaps the guild-hall. Riven hoped it wouldn't come to that. There was no way he would be able to get inside the guild-hall.
Riven was pulled away from his thoughts by Daed's voice.
"Slow down, Riv!"
Riven turned around and saw Daedalus scurrying behind him. The man was holding his robes above the sewer water. Daintily, as a girl would.
"We're in the upper sewers now. You should be able to find your way back."
"I'd rather—"
Without listening, Riven slipped away into one of the tunnels. He could hear Daed yelling, but he ignored it.
Daed would be able to find his way back.
Riven wanted to do a few other things before heading over to Ceívar's brothel. He had two hundred gold and it would come in handy to spread some misinformation to the Ravens. Some of it would be handy in finding out the meaning of the symbol the dead shadow man carried as well.
Chapter 46
Coran quietly prepared the ingredients required for the communication spell. It was times like these, he wished that his master also encouraged growth in schools of magic outside those that directly served in a battle.
The ingredients for a communication circle were easy to get. The measurements and casting, however, had to be precise. The spell could be made easier, far more potent, and would allow more room for error if he had some specific ingredients and items from the place he was trying to contact—the Shadow Spire.
The observatory in the spire had an immense communication circle that was prepared and always functioning—its abilities far amplified by the magical lenses there. If he had the presence of mind to carry some of the enchanted goat's horn dust kept in the observatory, he could have avoided most of the work he was doing now.
Yet, he didn't think he would need to contact Master Thaugmir for this trip.
After failing for four times in a row, the spell finally stabilized, and the magical dust he arranged in a circle began to glow. Slowly, speck-by-speck, it began to be consumed by the spell. The circle would now be open for as long as the dust remained fueling it.
He waited patiently as images began to form in the small bowl of water he placed at the center of the circle.
The observatory! He had finally done it! He quietly cursed himself for feeling elated at something a mage in his first year of study could do.
"Coran? Is that you? I can barely see you..."
"Forgive me Master Thaugmir. The spell was arranged in much haste."
"You do know that the goat's horn dust is kept in an open barrel for a reason?"
"Yes, Master. But, I did not imagine that I would need—"
"Spare me the excuses. Your spell looks like it could fall apart at any moment. Speak quickly."
"Yes, Master. I met Darius and purchased the Fell Scythe."
"Excellent! Although it pleases me to hear that, I doubt this is all you had in mind."
The Fell Scythe was a thousand-year-old magical relic from the age of adventure when Ryga was still an untamed land. There were several mages who had made breakthroughs in magic, and artifacts from that time held fascinating secrets. Master Thaugmir had sent Coran on this mission to purchase such an artifact.
"There is another problem, Master. It concerns a decision that I believe you should be the one making..."
"Speak," said Thaugmir, his voice betraying interest.
"I have been contacted for the purchase of a dragon's egg for sixty-two thousand gold pieces."
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"No, Master. The egg is indeed for sale and I believe the price—"
"Is an incredible bargain! Let me know where you are and I shall have the gold sent to you immediately."
As Coran had expected.
He wasn't as powerful or knowledgeable as Thaugmir, but he knew that the quoted price for the egg was as good a bargain as he could get for such a valuable item.
But now, he would have to break the other half of the bargain to his master.
"But there's a catch, Master…"
"But of course, there had to be. Let me hear it."
"The egg was stolen by one of the Ravens from a Summoner."
"A Summoner you say? Anyone of note?"
"It was a little hard, but I managed to do some digging around. Darius knows of him. A man named Dahl. He is from Izul's faction."
"Izul... I haven'
t heard that name for years. How many of them are there?"
"I do not know, Master."
"Are they looking for the egg?"
"Yes, Master. Quite aggressively. Dahl has started a war against the Black Ravens. Several of the low-ranking guild members have been disappearing. There was a slaughter in one of the houses of a prominent merchant in Archon."
"That does change things considerably," said Thaugmir thoughtfully.
"Darius is looking for the egg too, Master. He seems to know the Summoners well."
"Well, as good a price as it is, it would be a pain to have to deal with the Summoners. Especially lunatics under Izul. I suggest you leave the matter alone."
"Wait, Master! There is something else."
Coran would have to word himself very carefully now.
"What is it?" asked Thaugmir impatiently while Coran was still thinking of the right words.
"There is another proposal. One that I believe could net us a much more valuable prize than the egg."
Chapter 47
Gale watched the man fly seven feet into the air and crash back down into one of the tables with a resounding crack. He winced at the impact as the table's legs gave way and the food and drink on it spilled out in all directions. The patrons at that table quickly moved away to avoid the worst of the crash.
The man lay still, no doubt letting the alcohol take over completely. He was already on the verge of passing out anyway. Gale could smell the drink on him as he had approached. He probably had a very good time getting drunk. Maybe he realized the only thing left to complete the night was to make a go at Illazehra's breasts. That alone would have been bad enough to earn his punishment. But he garnished his advances with some very suggestive words. Illazehra had decided to make an example to prevent any further annoyances. Gale saw her standing at the center of the room, one hand on her hip and another raised high, still sparkling with the after effects of her spell.
"Do it again! Do it again!" bellowed Ceívar.
His face was flushed red with the rum he had been drinking
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