by Ben Hale
Light strode to the steps and looked up at the troll. “We’d like to see Ear.”
Hearing his name, the elf poked his head around the guard’s shoulder and spotted the three of them. His features lit up with excitement and he waved them through. Eager to see him, Water ascended the steps and greeted the elf.
“Water,” he said. “It’s been too long. And you brought Light?”
Lira leaned over to Water. “He knows about you?”
The elf spotted her and a flicker of disappointment crossed his features, followed by admiration. “My friends, your companion is lovely, but it was another beauty I had hoped to see in your midst.”
“You still favor Elenyr?” Lira asked, and glanced to Water. “I got the impression your relationship had ended.”
“How could I not still favor her?” the elf said, flashing a roguish smile. “She has more secrets than the stars.”
“Do they really call you the Ear?” Lira asked.
The elf cringed. “A moniker I can’t seem to shed. But I admit it has a certain crass truth to it. Please, call me Jeric.”
“You’ve done well for yourself, Jeric,” Lira said, motioning to the tavern.
Jeric’s eyes sparkled with delight. “They said it couldn’t be built, that it would fall within a year.” He winked. “That was thirty years ago.”
Water motioned to the tavern. “I see the popularity hasn’t waned.”
“There are always youths wanting a place where they can pretend the problems of the world do not affect them,” he said. “I merely provide such a location.”
“Can we talk somewhere more private?” Lira asked as the music picked up, a trio of bards screeching an unholy tune, their sound magic shaking dust from the ceiling.
“Of course,” he said, motioning to a doorway at the back of the balcony.
He guided them inside and shut the door, partially muting the sounds coming from the tavern. Then he motioned to the comfortable seats before sitting behind his private desk, placing his boots on the surface.
“What do you need?”
“Information,” Lira said. “A dangerous group of outlanders have come to our shores. We seek them.”
Jeric frowned and examined her anew. The carefully worded statement gave no detail as to Lira’s identity, yet Jeric abruptly smiled and stood. He stepped to a small cabinet made of elven cedar and withdrew a bottle. Pouring a small glass, he returned to his seat and raised it to her.
“It’s always a pleasure to meet an Eternal.”
Lira’s eyes narrowed while Water burst into a laugh. “How did you know?”
“The accent is ancient, and her features are not Talinorian or Griffin-born. Besides, when you come asking about a distant land, that can only mean one thing. Someone unwanted has come to Lumineia.” His eyes gleamed with excitement.
“You know a great deal,” Lira said.
Jeric chuckled at her wary tone. “You have nothing to fear from me, my beautiful guest. And rest assured, Elenyr has not informed me of the Eternals, nor have her companions. That is one secret I figured out on my own.”
Water noticed an air blade forming in Lira’s hand and reached out to put a reassuring hand on her arm. She didn’t look his way, and her grip merely tightened on the blade. She had the look of one used to being hunted, one who killed to protect her secrets.
“You expect me to believe you figured out the greatest secret on Lumineia . . . on your own?”
“The clues are present for those who know how to read them,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Water abruptly realized Jeric had green eyes, not the usual blue of his race. The trait had likely been gained from a human in his ancestry, the individual probably the source of his cunning, another attribute not common to the fair race.
Jeric seemed to notice the woman’s tension and waved it aside. “Rest assured your secret is safe behind my lips. They do call me the Ear, not the Mouth.”
“They’ll call you dead if you speak of the Eternals,” she said.
“Do you know what we seek?” Light asked, obviously unaware of the tension.
Jeric nodded. “Perhaps, but I fear there must be a cost.”
“We have to pay for the information?” Lira asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were a friend.”
Jeric’s eyes settled on her, a ghost of a smile on his features. “All information has a price.”
“We have coin,” Water said.
“Not this time,” Jeric said, reclining in his chair. “This time it will cost you a different form of currency. A favor.”
“I don’t like debts,” Lira said flatly.
“This one you can pay by night’s end,” he said.
“Oh?” Water asked, intrigued. “What else do you know?”
His smile widened. “Do we have a deal?”
Water looked to Lira, and the woman reluctantly nodded. “You have yourself a favor,” Water said.
The elf leaned back into his chair and gestured north. “At the northern border of Erathan lies a temple to the god Ero.” His lips twitched as he said the name, as if he knew the secret. “This particular temple was built during the Mage Wars, but has since been abandoned.”
“And what makes this temple special?” Lira asked.
“This one was built atop another structure,” he said. “A more . . . ancient one.”
“A krey building?” Light asked, leaning forward in his seat.
“Indeed,” Jeric replied. “And rumor has it, two months past, a strange light burst from the temple and shone into the sky. When a group of hunters gathered their courage to enter the temple they found it undisturbed, and none could discern the source of the light.”
“I don’t understand,” Light said, clearly enthralled. “What was it?”
Jeric’s eyes glimmered with excitement. “I think it was an invitation.”
“Someone invited Wylyn?” Water asked. “How?”
“As to that, I cannot say,” Jeric said with a shrug.
The revelation was shocking, and left deeper implications that Water found disturbing. Who on Lumineia knew of the Krey Empire, let alone how to send an invitation? For some reason he thought of Bartoth’s comments about what was coming. Light began to pace, flitting from one side of the room to the other, his words tumbling from his lips.
“Who is he? A man? A krey? Perhaps it’s a Verinai like Draeken—or even a guardian—or one of the dakorians Lira has spoken of—I would like to see one—”
Water ignored Light as he pondered the news, his thoughts still on Bartoth. Had the rock troll known the foe they would face? Is that what the troll had meant? Then he noticed Lira, who continued to watch Jeric, a small frown on her face. Jeric endured the scrutiny, his easy smile unfazed. Then he swept a hand to her.
“Answers are gained by asking questions, my lady.”
“What else do you know about this temple?” Lira asked.
“Ah,” Jeric said, his eyes lighting with interest. “You ask the most important question. The temple is old, yet few understand that the original structure was discovered during the Mage Wars. The one who found it was the very woman the people curse as the mother of guardians, Guildmaster Elsin herself.”
Water blinked in shock at hearing Elsin’s name. The woman had created the guardian charm, and been mother to Draeken’s original host. In his youth Water had learned a great deal about the woman, and found little to like.
“The guildmaster of the Verinai was obsessed with the ancient race,” Water said.
“You think the secret was passed down?” Light asked, his tone excited. “Or perhaps someone discovered how to activate the beacon?”
“But why?” Lira asked. “Who here would summon such a foe?”
“A mystery that begs an answer,” Jeric said, settling back into his seat.
“We can find out when we find them,” Water exclaimed, rising to his feet. Light was already at the door.
A muffled shout
came from the other side of the door and the music came to an abrupt halt. Light glanced back to Water and Lira, both on their feet, and noticed Jeric still sitting calmly. Water motioned Light aside and swung the door open before cautiously stepping out on the balcony.
The atmosphere of the raucous tavern had changed, with the youthful commoners and nobles flooding out the door, swerving to avoid a group of hulking figures that had entered. They were the size of rock trolls and wore cloaks, but the horns on their head marked them as distinct.
“It appears we have guests,” Water said.
Light clapped in excitement as he realized who they were. “Lira!” he called. “Look who has arrived!”
She cast her sword out of air, the blade glimmering as it hardened. “Dakorians.” She spat the word.
Hearing their conversation, the leader turned and pointed a hammer at Lira, the head sparking with power. His sneer sent the remaining spectators scurrying out the door. The bards left their lutes and drums, abandoning them for the safety of the outside.
“The slave,” the dakorian snarled, “I did hope we would meet again.”
“Tardoq,” she drawled. “I killed your kind the last time we met. Care to join them?”
“This time we are ready,” he growled.
“And I have friends,” she said, motioning to Water and Light.
Lira stepped to Water’s side and he felt a thrill in his chest. “I think you’ll find that Lira and I—”
“Greetings,” Light said eagerly. “Do we get to fight? I would love to see what you’re capable of. Your hammer is stunning! Can I keep it when you’re dead?” He laughed as if embarrassed. “Of course you wouldn’t mind, you’ll be dead!”
Water groaned as Light veritably bounced in excitement, and wished it was just him and Lira. Tardoq glared at Light, confusion flickering in his eyes before he directed the hammer at Jeric.
“You are the one they call the Ear?”
“What does an elf have to do to shed a name?” he said with a sigh.
“We wish to know—”
“I know,” he said. “You want to know about the one who invited you to this world.”
Light looked to him in surprise and the elf grunted in irritation. “Of course I knew they were coming. That’s why I replaced my guards with nervous folk that would flee. No need for extra bloodshed.”
“You wanted them to come?” Lira asked.
“Of course,” Jeric said. “I can smell adventure and you reek of it—if you would pardon the saying.”
Tardoq frowned and looked between them, his confusion turning to anger. “If you know what we seek, tell me now before I—”
Jeric laughed. “There’s no need for threats. What you seek lies in a temple six days north of here.”
Water blinked in surprise, but Lira’s eyes nearly burst from her skull and she rounded on him. “Why would you tell them?”
“It wouldn’t be much of an adventure without a foe,” Jeric said.
“He has a point,” Light said.
“No he doesn’t!” Lira snapped. “You don’t help the enemy!”
Jeric frowned. “Is this a bad time to inform you that I’ll be coming with you?”
“No you’re not,” she growled.
“I do have that favor,” he said, almost apologetically. “And I’m afraid I must insist.”
Water didn’t know whether to laugh or scowl, and settled on a snort of amusement. It appeared Jeric had orchestrated the entire encounter, right down to providing the dakorians with the truth.
Tardoq stared at them as they argued, his anger mounting. Then he flicked his hammer to his soldiers. “Your squabbles mean nothing to me. Now that we know, there is no reason for you to live.”
Lira continued to glare at Jeric, but Water cast his staffblade. His tone was apologetic as he said, “I’m sorry, Lira, but I agree with Jeric.”
Lira released an explosive breath, anger twisting her features, as if she regretted her choice in companions. Once again Light danced, his curving blade appearing in his hands. He spun it into a blur, making the dakorians shift into a defensive stance.
—the door burst open and Dalton, the thief from the ascender, entered with a handful of swarthy thieves. “I told you that you were going to pay . . .”
He came to a halt when he viewed the standoff, his followers shifting in fear. Water caught his eye and smiled. “Are you here to join the fight?”
“Er . . .” The man retreated a step, and then another. “Perhaps this time I’ll forgive the slight.”
He turned and fled, and the other men followed. As their footfalls echoed into silence Jeric’s quiet chuckle of anticipation filled the empty tavern.
“Let the games begin . . .”
Chapter 11: Outlanders
Tardoq threw his hammer, the weapon blasting the railing into kindling and striking Light’s chest. He caught the weapon, the force of the blow carrying him through the wall, across Jeric’s office, and out the exterior wall.
Water cast a glance at Light’s disappearing form, but the fragment’s laughter indicated he was not injured. Then Water turned and leapt the balcony rail, coming down with his staff onto the floor. The blast of ice expanded outward, momentarily trapping the nearest dakorians.
The soldiers smashed their hammers into the ice, but Lira used the moment to cast a quartet of air stones, allowing her to sprint by the nearest soldier. Her sword flicked down, cutting deep into the joint between neck and skull. The dakorian snarled and aimed his hammer, unleashing a blast of energy at her fleeing form. She ducked, and it blasted a hole in the wall.
Water instinctively realized that there were too many, and the dakorians would herd them together and use their superior strength to crush them. They needed space, so he sucked the moisture from the glasses still on tables and burst it asunder, spreading mist throughout the room. The dakorians, Jeric, and Lira were all engulfed in the fog.
Light burst into view and landed in the midst of the dakorians, swinging his stolen hammer with abandon, his gleeful laughter reverberating off the confines of the structure. The dakorians were spread out, and Light’s sudden appearance threw their ranks into chaos.
“Kill him!” Tardoq barked.
But Light was too fast. He flitted between the hulking forms with shocking speed, evading the hammers as he swung his own. A knee shattered and a dakorian went down. Bones of a hand snapped as Light brought his hammer down on the handle of another weapon.
Water grinned at the fragment’s damage, but had problems of his own. Four surrounded him, and he used the mist to hide his body, making it appear as if he were approaching on the left when he feinted from the right. Then he used the fog to launch himself into the air, allowing him to strike at a third dakorian behind. His target growled in pain and struck back, but Water retreated, and the mist swallowed him from sight.
Water caught a glimpse of Jeric. The elf wielded two hilts, both with magical weapons extending from them. One was a sword while the other had become a hammer, both crafted of hardened aquaglass.
Jeric leapt to a surviving table and flipped over a swinging hammer, flicking his hammer out to chip the bone breastplate of the wielder. Then he morphed the sword into a whip, snapping it into the dakorian’s face, making him flinch. Throughout it all, Light’s laughter echoed in the confines of the tavern.
“Will you stop laughing!” Lira bellowed.
In the middle of the tavern, Lira fought with ferocious strength, batting the hammers aside before evading a crushing blow from another dakorian. She leapt high and stepped on a sudden platform of air, using it to leap over the dakorian and drive her sword down his back. He cried out and whirled, but she lunged, driving her shoulder into the dakorian’s waist. Weighing more than a bear, he nevertheless soared across the space and struck the window at the back of the tavern, shattering the glass.
Water saw the opportunity and sprinted to the dakorian at the back wall, striking his blade into the dakorian’
s chest. The blade didn’t pierce deep, but the force of the blow drove him through the broken window, where he plummeted from sight with a fading roar.
“Perfect timing,” Lira said with a smile.
“I live to please,” Water said.
But the victory had a price, and mist seeped from the opening in the back wall, allowing the dakorians to see them. Water charged before they could trap him on the back wall and swung his staffblade. The dakorians lacked his speed, but they adapted quickly, trapping him in a ring of flesh. He ducked a hammer blow, the weapon passing inches above his nose, so close he could feel the crackling energy in his teeth.
The tavern shuddered from the battle, the weight of the conflict cracking beam and wall, damaging the lights imbued into the material and casting the battle in flickering light. The dakorians seemed unimpaired by the dimness, their hammers flying with precision.
Water dropped to the floor, landing on a sled of water drawn from the lingering mist. Then he sent a burst of power from his feet and shot through a gap between two dakorians. They shouted in alarm and converged upon him, expertly changing formation and attempting to close the trap again.
He reached the wall and rolled to his feet, using his momentum to sprint up the wall and reach the rafters above. A hammer came for his skull and crashed into a beam, splintering wood and filling the air with dust.
One of the dakorians leapt and grabbed a beam, the roof groaning from his weight as he levered himself up with an agility that belied his large frame. Water brought his bladed staff down upon the soldier, but the dakorian raised his hammer to block, fighting while hanging halfway from the rafters. The fight allowed the other three dakorians to ascend into the network of beams that supported the roof.
“You do not fight like brutes,” Water exclaimed, slipping through a pair of angled beams and swinging his weapon at the hand of a dakorian. Because of the beams, the soldier did not see it coming and it sliced across the fingers, drawing blood.
The Dakorian grunted in pain at the broken fingers and switched his hammer to the opposite hand, easily wielding it from the left. Abruptly another dakorian appeared behind Water. Weaving through the beams, the soldier swung his hammer with such force that it blasted through the thick beam, narrowly missing Water’s skull as it struck a second beam, bending a metal bracket.