Skole dropped the man to the ground and breathed heavily, shoulders heaving. He became aware of his left shoulder and the blood trickling down his arm. Clutching the wound, he slumped to his knees for a brief second, then pushed himself back to his feet and left the garden.
Davin hurried down the street, reaching Skole just outside the meeting point. “Shit!” his captain exclaimed when he saw the blood. “We were betrayed, Skole. I ran to warn you as soon as I found out, but I wasn’t fast enough.”
Skole stared at the man, wondering if he played a part in the betrayal. No, he knew Davin too well to not trust him.
“Kristafrost,” he said.
Davin nodded. “It couldn’t be anyone else. The guild leaders each went to different meetings. It looked as if we all betrayed each other, and two more bosses are dead.”
Skole shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Send out word to our men,” he said. “We’re abandoning the city to the suburbs. We’re going underground until things stabilize.”
Davin nodded solemnly.
“Malahkma will rise again,” Skole swore, “but on our terms.”
Malahkma leadership abandoned their posts. They took a small amount of supplies, a select gathering of whores and other slaves, and other valuable merchandise so that they could move quickly. Like rats, they trickled away from the city, leaving it to the others to fight it out. They converged in a safe house in the suburbs. It was one of their inner secrets, and they would be able to hide while the rest of the city forgot them.
The first night in the underground hideout beneath the safe house Skole stood alone in the small bedchamber. There were no windows. A single oil lamp sat on a small bedside stand.
“We have no gods,” he said to himself. The Templars had been unchallenged before Darkfall because Karanos was behind them. Now they had the Old Gods. How did one fight that?
He had never had use for gods. Maybe he needed to rethink that.
That strange serpentine sensation overcame him again. Something squirmed in the outer periphery of his consciousness. Curious, he allowed himself to follow the intuitive promptings of his mind. He pressed his thumb beneath his shoulder’s bandage, reopening the wound.
With the slick of blood covering his thumb, he moved to the wall and traced the impression of red dragon wings.
“Red Lady,” he said aloud, feeling silly and exhilarated at the same time. His heart raced, either from the anticipation of the unknown or fear that someone would walk in and see him doing something so ridiculous. “If you’re there, if you can help me, I offer myself to you. Your name is feared from times of old. If the old Gods of Light have returned, you have too, for you have always been the greatest. At least, that’s what the stories say. I ask that you lend me your aid. If you can hear me in the Abyss, give me a sign. I have used your name without believing in you. Aid me, and I will follow you in more than just name only.”
Nothing answered him, but the strange feeling of ambient snakes persisted.
* * *
With the disappearance of Malahkma, the other crime guilds continued to snipe at each other. Without Malahkma uniting them, as they had been before the zeppelin’s appearance, they lacked the organization to challenge the new church’s authority.
The Assassins Guild never received the contract on Kristafrost. As it turned out, the agent that the Thieves Guild leader had tasked with hiring the hit was himself one of Kristafrost’s double agents. He took the money, gave it to her, and reported back that the contract had been made.
Kristafrost kept the remaining crime guilds occupied in their own war while Rajamin’s followers quietly grew in strength. Suleima proved an eager acolyte, expanding her own knowledge of the gods while helping him minister to a growing body of followers. The former Templars, already used to an established chain of command, helped organize the community of faithful as it spread throughout the city.
Rajamin started to call his followers Servants of the Light, and as the crime guilds ate away at each other, the civic strength of the people grew. By September, when the first wave of seelie arrived by foot at Artalon’s threshold, the city was stable enough to receive them. The people welcomed them with open arms, and the light elves added their strength against the guild violence.
34 - Uncle Tibs
Tiberan leaned against the doorframe, comfortably dressed in gray Artalonian garb, and observed Keira kneading dough in the Rusty Gear’s kitchen. Jorey’s family made it a point to earn their keep and put their baking talents to use. Keira’s favorite thing to do, once she finished her work, was play with Ghost. The tiger graciously endured and eventually agreed to let her ride on his back.
Tiberan spent his time wandering the streets and exploring when he wasn’t with Aradma. He helped the Templars defend people from the crime guilds when their skirmishes spilled into safe areas and risked causing collateral damage. He and the other seelie that arrived helped keep the violence contained. They were not overt about it, but with a well-placed arrow here, or a warning to civilians there, they kept the innocent safe. By the time the guilds knew what had happened, they had expended most of their blood capital on each other.
I’d like her to finish soon, Ghost mentally told him. He lay sprawled at the edge of the kitchen, just out of the way. No one scratches my tummy like she does.
Tiberan leaned over and patted the tiger’s head, ruffling his fingers behind the cat’s ears.
It’s not the same.
It had been almost a week since they last left the city to hunt. They had brought down two deer, and Ghost had eaten most of one. Soon they would have to leave the city again to find food for the tiger. Tiberan enjoyed his outings with Ghost away from the city. He loved the thrill of the hunt.
“Where’s Aradma?” Tiberan asked. He couldn’t sense her nearby. That was not uncommon, but he had the sudden urge to speak with her. He let it go. He continued to watch Keira. Jorey and Magda worked around her and included her in their tasks.
“No, not like that,” Jorey said. “Wait… here… there you go.”
Keira kept looking up at Tiberan every time she received praise. She smiled at him shyly.
“Keep on like that,” Magda told her, “and these pie crusts will be ready for the meat.”
“Okay,” Jorey added, “five more and we’re about done. You can go play after that, just stay close, and don’t go outside by yourself.”
“Ghost will keep me safe,” she said.
Tiberan wondered what it would be like when Aradma gave birth. The child was not his, but it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that she was happy, and he was with her. He thought about what Couraime had told him when she came to him that night in Vemnai, that there could be no children between an elf and a troll. He wondered how she knew that, or if it had just been a belief passed down in stories from earlier times. Sidhe had lived on Vemnai—he had seen the ruins. Were there love affairs at one time between the two races?
Everyone else thought the child was his. Aradma had not revealed the parentage yet. It would be obvious once the child was born. He wondered what features of the father would show through. Would an elf-troll girl be beautiful or ugly? Would she even survive birth?
Aradma must be fighting these worries all the time, he thought, more with every day that passed closer to full term. How did she keep calm about everything else? Because she had a trait in common with Tiberan—she was practical. She saw what needed to be done and did it.
He realized he had been lost in thought. Ghost had rolled over onto his back, stretched out on the tops of Tiberan’s feet. His fluffy tummy was exposed, and Keira knelt beside the cat, giving him a good belly rub.
Maybe there was nothing to worry about. Their family would be like hers, and their daughter would have an older sister in Keira.
Tiberan smiled.
The next day, he walked beside Aradma with Keira in between them. Her parents let her take the afternoons off as long as someone supervised her while the
y managed the kitchens. Whenever Keira had a free moment, she found Tiberan and sat by him. He recalled the day Aradma had taken Tiberan outside to show him a chalk drawing Keira had done of a girl holding hands with a seelie man and woman. The drawing was crude, but the woman had a large belly.
Now the picture seemed to have come true. Keira held each of their hands and walked between them quietly. She had recently taken to calling them Uncle Tibs and Aunty Ma. Jorey and Magda were thrilled that the two of them warmed to their family.
Keira wanted to go to a church gathering and listen to the stories about old gods and goddesses. Tiberan knew Aradma did not have a keen interest to go. In truth, neither did he, but he was curious to watch how things developed. He found time spent observing people to be enlightening. Just as Aradma was able to understand Ahmbren’s flora, Tiberan knew flesh-and-blood creatures. He couldn’t read their soul music in the same way that Aradma could, but he sensed their feelings, and felt the inner alchemy of their blood change as they listened to sermons. He inhaled their state of mind held by their bodies’ scents, wafting through the air as their hearts responded to each word and to each other.
One of the higher towers close to God Spire had become a base of operations for Rajamin’s Church of Light. It was here that he gave sermons in the floor’s main hall, and people gathered to listen to him speak. He had painted runes along the walls, and they responded to the crowd’s prayers. The three of them stood in the back, listening to Rajamin as his voice was projected through divine magic to reach the ears of all in the congregation.
Modhrin welcomed Athra into his halls, for he loved her beauty. Inspired by her, he created the Modirim as a tribute to her, whom today we know as dwarves. They were the first race and lived in the depths of hills and mountains, leaving the valleys and plains to the domain of Rin.
But Athra was not content to remain in halls of stone, no matter how they glittered with gems and crystals in the flickering firelight. Inspired by the Modirim, but seeing potential for so much more, she left Modhrin’s halls and caught the eye of Karanos, stealing his attention away from Soorleyn. She took his radiant light into her and gave birth to humankind, a race born for the joy of living and discovery. She wanted her children to know the fullness of wisdom by experiencing all aspects of life, discovering possibilities that even gods had not foreseen.
Karanos was betrayed by his highest servant, Yamosh, who, desiring to become a god himself, made his purpose the destruction of all of Karanos’ works. Yamosh slew his creator, and Athra mourned Karanos’ loss. Karanos’ son by Athra, Keruhn the Consoler, went to his mother and she conferred upon him the mantle of the sun. Keruhn and Athra guided the Nine Realms of Ahmbren, sheltering us from the lies of Yamosh and the consuming desire of Malahkma, mother of Dragons.
It was Malahkma’s children who gave rise to the Shadowlord, whom you called God-King. Three of her offspring broke with her and bowed their heads to the Gods of Light, but Klrain bent his purpose to fulfilling his parents’ will, for Malahkma was his mother, but Yamosh was his father.
The Shadowlord was not Karanos. Karanos was bright and radiant and good. Before he was slain, Karanos had been one of the Gods of Light. The God-King was only a shadow of Karanos’ glory, but he fulfilled the Archdragons’ purpose and destroyed Klrain on Darkfall’s eve. Now the Gods of Light return, and we live in the dawn of a new age, an age we will meet together, hand in hand, human and dwarf, ratling and elf, as varied in our unity as the Ten Gods of Light are in theirs.
Today we pray to Athra, Lady of Wisdom. May she watch over us and protect us from Malahkma, who would tempt us with desires and lusts whose pursuits would only lead to our destruction. Let us too pray to Keruhn the Consoler, Lord of Bounty and Prince of Light. May his light be an armor, a beacon of hope in the shadow of darkness, a rampart and protection to preserve us against Yamosh and all his works.
Let us pray…
After the service, they wandered outside the main city to the docks to watch the waves. Tiberan knew that Aradma could see a golden light around Rajamin whenever he invoked the gods. She said she had seen the same around the Matriarch and in her vision of Soorleyn, but she didn’t know what it meant. He couldn’t see it, and as far as he could tell, no one else could either.
“It’s different from before,” Keira broke the silence. “I like the stories. And I like that they let you pray for what you want and not what you’re told to want.”
Tiberan regarded the girl. She stared up at him intently.
“What is it you pray for, Uncle Tibs?” she asked him.
His eyes glimmered with a smile. “That we have a daughter as pretty as you,” he answered. Aradma looked warmly at them both, her left hand resting on her belly. “What do you pray for?” he asked the girl.
Keira answered unwaveringly. “That my family can be happy again, like yours. That we find my brother Arlen.”
Tiberan had not expected that answer. He was not aware she had a missing brother. “Tell me of him,” he asked.
Keira recounted the story of Arlen’s awakening as a wolven and the Templars taking him from his family on the night of Darkfall.
“I want him to come home,” she finished. “I don’t care that he’s wolven. I want him to come home.”
“His transformation does not scare you?” Aradma asked.
“It did,” she said. “But he’s my brother.”
Aradma nodded. “How old are you?”
She responded, “Nine and three quarters.”
“Almost ten,” Tiberan echoed.
“Yes,” she said. She looked up at Tiberan intently. “I prayed we find him again… and I prayed I’m just like him. I want to be special, too. It happens when you’re thirteen.”
Tiberan placed his hand on her shoulder, and he felt the essence of her being. Sensing the dormant beast within her, he knelt down to look at her at eye level.
“You’re already a special, beautiful girl, Keira,” he told her. “No matter if you’re wolven or human. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. You don’t need to wait until you’re thirteen to know that.”
Keira rolled her eyes.
Tiberan found Kristafrost reading reports in her back office. He didn’t know how SSSI worked, nor whom in the guild did what. For that matter, he wasn’t entirely sure who was in the guild at all. He didn’t really care that much, either. That was Kristafrost’s business, and he was grateful for the hospitality and help she provided.
He walked in and saw Yinkle sitting in one of the chairs in front of the hearth, legs lazily swung over the chair’s edge. Kristafrost looked mildly annoyed. She held papers in her hands as a sign she was busy, but Yinkle obviously ignored it. Tiberan wasn’t sure Kristafrost was really busy, but the two little women seemed to bristle whenever they were both in a room together. They weren’t hostile, but for some reason Yinkle had made it a point to make snarky comments about her very existence being proof that gnomes weren’t as smart as they claimed to be. “I’m your walking mistake!” he had heard Yinkle say a few nights past. He didn’t understand it, but Aradma told him it had something to do with how ratlings came to be in the first place.
“So,” Yinkle said.
Kristafrost answered flatly, looking over the rim of her reading monocle with her one good eye, “So.”
Tiberan stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry, I’ll come back,” he said. “Kristafrost, I need to speak with you when you have a moment.”
“She was just leaving,” Kristafrost said.
“I just got here,” Yinkle protested. “I want to know.”
“Know what?” the gnome raised an eyebrow.
“So, you’re a gnome.”
Kristafrost stared at her dumbly for a moment. “Is this going somewhere?”
“There used to be a lot more gnomes than there are now—” Yinkle began.
“The Empire kicked us out,” Kristafrost stated quickly.
“Exactly. You all live long, longer than even the sidhe
. All the gnomes I know in Kallanista—their parents were there before the Shadowlord. If you all left the Empire, then where did you go? You didn’t come to us. The Kallanistan gnomes don’t know where you all went either.”
“We went away.”
“I knew it!” Yinkle proclaimed. “You have a secret city! Where?”
“Away.”
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Yinkle deflated.
“Is that all?” Kristafrost asked.
“Yes.” The ratling left with a very disappointed look on her face.
“I think you hurt her feelings,” Tiberan said.
“Really,” Kristafrost remarked dryly. “Does she have feelings?”
“Krista!” Tiberan chastised her. “That’s not fair.”
Kristafrost sighed. “I know. She just takes every opportunity to needle me.”
Tiberan crossed his arms and gave a slight snort of amusement. “You’re both needlers.”
The gnome regarded the stack of papers in her hands for a moment and then set them down on the desk. “I’ve already read these,” she said. “I’m really not busy right now, I just didn’t want her to know it. What did you want to talk about?”
“Keira’s brother.”
Kristafrost nodded. “Yes. That.” She shook her head. “I told Jorey I would help him find his son, but the SSSI leads have gone cold.”
“Have you nothing then?”
When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set Page 33