by Jess Lebow
Evelyne pointed to one of the open windows looking out onto the courtyard, not taking her eyes off the princess. "It's in there. I saw the fat one stash it behind the stone facing."
Quinn looked at Mariko, waiting to see her reaction. The princess crossed her arms over her chest then nodded. Hurrying to where Evelyne pointed, Quinn stepped through an open stone doorway. True to her word, there, on top of a crate of Elixir, were his armor, robes, and gauntlets. Quickly dressing, he went back out to the princess and Evelyne. The two women stood in silence, looking each other over- Evelyne with an air of satisfied pleasure, Mariko with a bit of confusion.
As if the dangers of the Cellar weren't enough, the awkward situation between the two women gave Quinn even more reason to leave this place behind. Flipping over the band on the back of his belt, he retrieved the colorful disk that would grant them passage out of the Cellar. Placing it on the floor, he spun it as he had the first time, almost two days ago. The disk dissolved into a thousand tiny mores of light, consumed by the process, and a shimmering portal appeared.
"Come, you two," he said. "It's time to go." Mariko put her hand on Quinn's shoulder as he continued dressing.
"Is it true?" she asked. "What you said to Jallal?"
"Is what true?" Quinn had finished donning his soft leather armor and was just securing his cloak.
"That there is a black citadel floating over Llorbauth, and that someone inside it is demanding me as a sacrifice?"
Quinn stopped in the middle of tying a knot. "Yes."
"Is that why you came for me? So my father could trade me to save the kingdom?"
Quinn glanced over at the glowing magical portal, the words of the king's warning running through his head. It will not last very long. If you activate it and do not use it, you will be lost, trapped inside the Cellar.
"We must go," he said, urging Mariko toward the portal. "We can have this conversation later.".
"Yeah, have your fight somewhere else," said Evelyne as she passed the two. "This will get me out of here?" She pointed at the portal.
"As promised," said Quinn.
"You're a man of your word." Evelyne shook her head. "Not many of those down here." Then she stepped through the swirling light and disappeared.
Mariko crossed her arms, clearly not happy. "I'm not finished with this," she said, then she too stepped through the portal.
Quinn let out a sigh. "No," he said, finally securing his cloak. "I'm sure you're not."
Picking up his gauntlet, he took his turn, leaving behind the Cellar and its inhabitants forever.
The glowing portal grew smaller with every passing moment. What had once been a large oval, big enough to fit a paladin atop his horse, was now not much larger than a young child.
From his prone position in the middle of the courtyard, Jallal Tasca rose to his knees. The hole in his forehead where Evelyne's dagger had punched through was slowly closing.
Touching the wound with his fingers, Jallal's lips curled back into a fanged smile. He let out a chuckle that grew into a deep belly laugh, filling the courtyard with the jubilant sounds of an evil man.
Getting to his feet, he crossed the open space, his hooves crunching dirt and stone. His exotic blade glowed otherworldly, bathed in the magical light of the portal and the fires of the burning Elixir.
After his first death, he had been reborn, returned to life with new strength and desire. This second death had given him his freedom. He no longer had obligations or obstacles-only wants and needs. Right now, what Jallal Tasca wanted, what he needed, was to get revenge on the Claw.
Ducking his head, he slipped through the opening, out of the Cellar and back to Erlkazar.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Matron stepped from her private chamber and descended the steps into the meeting room.
The seats around the heavy wooden table were full. All the underworld's players were here. She knew what they wanted, and she hated them for it. Weak, impatient, short sighted fools-all of them. Not one had vision. Not one could see beyond the end of the day.
How was she supposed to take charge of the entire kingdom if her cohorts couldn't resist reacting like children to every crisis? How could she plot any long-term progress if they were all content with petty theft and minor smuggling?
Someone had to think about the future, about the underworld’s relationship with the throne. There was coin to be made, lots of it, if only she could complete her alliance with the king. Weaken him, put King Korox in their debt, make him afraid-and then everything they could ever want would be theirs.
How could they not see it? How could they not understand her taking advantage of this situation? The underworld had his daughter. The kingdom was under the threat of the Obsidian Ridge. The king needed them. They held all the cards, yet these fools wanted to quit the game. They wanted to turn over the princess and be done with it.
How could they call themselves criminals when they had no nerve?
"Matron," said the woman in the spider-silk dress, "the reason we have called this meeting-"
"I know what it is you want," she spat. "What I don't know is how all of you can be so foolish."
"It is you who is foolish!" shouted Kleegor from his chair halfway down the middle of the table. The half-ore snorted as he spoke. "You are putting our businesses in danger and risking everything we have built. It is within your power to fix this situation, but you refuse."
"Yes, I do refuse," said the Matron. "This situation, as you call it, has given us the opportunity to solidify our power in this kingdom for the foreseeable future. Yet you would rather suffer the indignation of being bound by King Korox's unjust laws, milking out what little you can until it becomes too difficult for you to continue."
She looked around. "What is it you plan to do when all of this is gone? What is it you will do when the Magistrates and the Claw have torn down the docks and made it impossible for any of us to do business?"
"That will never happen," said the spider woman.
"Yes, it will," replied the Matron. "And it will happen sooner than you think. That is why we must stay the course. We must use the arrival of the Obsidian Ridge to our advantage. We can form an alliance with the king, put him in our pocket, make him a partner to our crimes."
She smiled. "Then for as long as he lives, we will have free reign of Erlkazar. We will control the laws and the tariffs and the distribution of wealth. We will have everything we have ever wanted."
The Matron leaned on the table, her voice growing serious. "We can give the king everything he wants, and he is willing to give that to us as well. But not if we turn his daughter over. Not if we do not ally with him and bring our mages to his convocation. If we give up now, if we simply turn the princess over to this Xeries, then we have gained nothing."
The heavy steel doors complained as they opened.
The Matron was already in a foul mood, and this unexpected interruption was not helping.
Into the chamber came one of Jallal Tasca's guards, escorted by four of the Matron's own armed soldiers. The woman looked as if she'd just been dragged through a bonfire. Dozens of tiny burn marks covered her clothing, and ash and blood smeared her face.
She bowed as she entered, staying on the top step.
"Matron, please forgive the intrusion, but I have grave news."
"You may speak."
"It's the Claw, Matron. He's killed the Tascas and liberated Princess Mariko from the Cellar." „
The room exploded in hushed mutterings and angry accusations.
"You see!" shouted Kleegor. "You were playing with fire, and now we are all going to burn."
"Choose carefully your words here, Kleegor," warned the Matron.
The half-ore stood to address the room. "We do not have the princess. The decision to turn her over is no longer in our hands." He turned to the Matron. "You want to rule Erlkazar? You had your chance to save the kingdom. You had the chance to make the choice. The king was powerless. But now yo
u have wasted the opportunity trying to turn it into more than it was. The king will never turn over his daughter. He knows we have the power to help him stop Xeries, and he'll assume that we'll use it to help ourselves. We no longer have a choice."
"What do you propose we do?" asked the spider woman.
"There is only one clear path," said Kleegor. "We must kill the king and force the palace to turn over the princess."
"Idiot," the Matron fumed underneath her veil. "If and when we kill the king, it will be when I tell you to kill the king. If this is done wrong, all of Erlkazar will be up in arms against us or worse, in ashes. The king will become a martyr, and we will continue to be hunted by Xeries's beasts. Our businesses have thrived for hundreds of years by being inconspicuous. If Erlkazar is destroyed, we have nothing."
"You should have thought of that before you started this game," said Kleegor.
The Matron lifted her hand and pointed at Kleegor. An army of guards rushed into the meeting room from the open steel doors. Four of them grabbed hold of the half-ore, while two others pressed sharpened steel against his back.
"Stop!" shouted Kleegor. "What are you doing? You can't do this!"
The guards held firm, and no one in the room moved to help him.
"I warned you." The Matron stepped out from the table and made her way to the half-orc. "But you did not listen." She placed her hand on Kleegor's chest. "And now your poison words will be your undoing."
Her hand flared with power, and the half-ore doubled over in pain. His arms went weak, his face pale, and he vomited on the table, the contents of his stomach spilling over everyone within two chairs. No longer able to struggle against the guards, they held him up, keeping the half-ore from falling to the ground.
"What have you done to him?" asked the woman in the spider-silk dress, her words whispered and horrified.
"I have simply given him a taste of his own poison." Returning to the head of the table, she nodded to the guards.
They placed the sickened Kleegor back in his seat, testing his head in the puddle of vomit.
"The Claw will return the princess to her father," said the Matron, addressing the collected underworld bosses. "We must make sure the king doesn't do anything foolish. I will send him a message, reiterating our deal to help him combat Xeries. If he thinks there is a chance that he can keep his daughter, he will take it, and he will still be in our debt."
"And what of the Claw?" shouted a man in garish robes at the far end.
"The Claw is a different story," she said, her veil fluttering with the force of her words. "He must die."
King Korox stood in the middle of the great hall, piles of dead soldiers and beasts littering the floor.
"Do you see this?" He pointed to the blood and the ruined lives. "Are you looking?"
Whitman stood before him, his hands and legs in heavy shackles. Bruises and dried cuts covered his face. He didn't look at the king. He didn't look at the mess around him. He just stared at his bare feet.
Korox grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him over to the corpse of a young solider.
"Do you see that?" He shoved Whitman to the ground, forcing his face over the dead solider. "He was still a boy, less than half your age."
Korox dragged Whitman, still on his knees, to look at a slain Watcher. "How about her? Was your treachery worth her life?"
Whitman said nothing.
"I'm going to ask you this once, and you're going to answer me, or so help me I will cut you down right here and hang your dead body from the front of the palace." The king placed his sword under Whitman's neck. "What is it the Matron wants? What is all of this about?"
Whitman looked down at the king's sword, piercing the skin on his throat. He swallowed hard. "She wants you in her debt." He lowered his eyes. "She thought that if she took your daughter, that you would be willing to turn a blind eye to her Elixir business in exchange for Mariko's safe return."
"And the Obsidian Ridge?" prompted the king.
"She had nothing to do with that. When it arrived, she was as surprised as you. But she saw it as a further opportunity to draw you into her plans."
The king pulled his sword away from Whitman's throat. "She offered to help with the convocation as a way to get influence in the court."
Whitman sat back on his heels, a completely beaten man. "And her chance to take from you a powerful weapon."
"The Claw," said the king.
Whitman nodded.
"Who is she?"
Whitman looked puzzled. "Who?"
"Yes," said the king, raising his blade again. "What is her name? Tell me her identity."
Whitman shook his head. "I do not know."
Korox dropped his knee down on the ex-scribe's chest, lowering his entire weight-full armor and all-onto the man. "I will ask you this only one more time. What is her name?"
Whitman struggled to keep himself upright, his back straining under the extra weight, threatening to break. "I swear to-you. I do not know. She keeps her face covered, her identity a secret."
The king stood. "Take him back to the dungeon," he ordered a nearby Magistrate.
Whitman fell over sideways, a gushing sob ushering from his lips as he was dragged out of the room.
Korox watched the man he had once trusted with all of his words disappear from the great hall in shackles. His reign as king was in danger of being characterized simply by the string of betrayals from his advisors and servants.
"Father!"
Korox turned away from Whitman to see his daughter standing at the door to the audience chamber. "Mariko?" He rushed to her side and wrapped her in an embrace. "I wasn't sure I was going to ever lay eyes upon you again."
She smiled at him. "There were some moments there where I thought the same thing." The princess traced the path of bodies across the floor with her eyes. "What happened here?"
"Erlkazar is in grave danger," he said. "We're at war."
"Quinn mentioned that."
Behind her, the Claw entered the great hall, his mask missing.
The king glanced to his assassin, then to his daughter. "Then I guess you've heard about Arch Magus Xeries and his demands."
The princess nodded. "Yes." She looked up at him with her chin pointed to the ground. If she had been wearing spectacles, she would have been staring over the tops of the rims.
The king had seen that look before. Her mother used to give it to him on a regular basis. "Mariko, you can't believe that I want to turn you over to that man. That has never been my intention."
"I'm sure you will do what is best for the kingdom," she replied, not changing the look.
"I'm glad someone thinks so." King Korox Morkann took another look at his daughter. It seemed he hadn't seen her for ages. Indeed, whatever she had been through had made her look older, wiser-a lot like her mother in fact.
"Let me tell you what has happened while you were away." He touched Mariko's elbow and gently directed her down the hall. "Perhaps you will have a clearer view of what our best course of action may be."
She looked like her mother, had the same stern look as her mother, maybe she'd have sage advice, like her mother always had.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sun rose on a new day in Erlkazar. A westerly wind blew in from the water, lifting the morning fog and gently rustling the grass and leaves. At any other time, this would have been a beautiful spring day. Visitors from other lands would have seen children playing in the foothills, farmers coaxing their crops from the soil, and a community of people who worked and lived together in harmony.
But not today.
On this day, the sun's rays were somehow absorbed by the empty hopeless blackness that was the Obsidian Ridge. The children, those who hadn't been evacuated, were locked tightly inside their homes, cowering behind barred doors with their huddled families. The roads were all but bare, occupied by only the bravest and the most foolhardy. And the wind had nothing to rustle.
The first ray
s of dawn had brought with them what seemed a plague. The crops, once sprouting with the hope of a fine harvest were turned gray and lifeless. Their budding blossoms had withered and died. The first signs of flowers and fruit had decayed on the vine, transforming into little more than dried out husks.
Xeries had done what he'd promised.
"This is an outage," fumed Lady Herrin, stomping right into the audience chamber. "You are our king, and it is your obligation to protect us from this threat."
"I am aware of my duty, Lady Herrin."
Korox stood on the dais. His throne had been destroyed in the melee that took place only a day before. Blood stained the floor of the chamber, and scars from the battle marred the pillars.
The king looked up at the painting on the ceiling. It depicted a time in his nation's history, only a few short years ago, known as the Black Days of Eleint. What would these days be called, he wondered, if not black?
"The crops have withered," said the old merchant woman. "Our livelihoods ate at stake. Our lives are in your hands, yet you stand there and do nothing."
"You have seen the power of Xeries. Our army cannot best him, and we do not have the resources to beat him in a magical fight. We are looking into solutions."
"Give him what he wants," she said. "Turn over your daughter for the sake of the kingdom, and be done with it."
Korox paced across the dais. Inside he fumed, his frustration boiling over into a massive hatred of the woman before him. Right now, she was all that was wrong with the world. He wanted to smite her, cut her down for demanding such things from him.
"You know not what you ask of me," he said.
"I know very well," said the old merchant. "You can save the lives of thousands by sacrificing only one. That is a good pay off. Even someone as poor with economics as you can understand those numbers."
The king reached for his sword, but his hand was stayed by that of Senator Divian.
She smiled at him, and gently directed him toward his private reading room. "That is quite enough Lady Herrin," she said to the merchant. "Your request has been heard, and the king will take it under advisement. You will be contacted if your advice is needed further."