by Sam Ferguson
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.
CHAPTER 8
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 jui
ce 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.
“Why not tie the ring to a stone and throw it into the ocean?” Phinean asked as Elroa rifled through a drawer.
Elroa turned on Phinean with a sharply arched eyebrow. “And leave it for the merfolk to find? What good would that do?”
Jaleal took another bite of venison as he watched the exchange between the two.
“Merfolk can’t walk. So they would never be able to open the gate,” Phinean reasoned.
Elroa shook his head and slammed the drawer shut. “Merfolk are fickle. Who is to say they wouldn’t sell it to some adventurer later on? No, the ring must be protected by someone we can trust. That is why Jahre gave it to me.”
Jaleal wanted to ask about the merfolk, but now did not seem like the opportune moment to satisfy his curiosity. Instead, he swallowed his juicy mouthful of deer meat and then posed a different question. “Why not destroy the ring?” he asked.
Elroa shrugged. “Where might we do that?” he asked in return. “The enchantments on it are such that only a dragon’s fire could devour it.”
“Well,” Jaleal started with a shrug. “What about the white dragon that King Dailex rode?”
Elroa shook his head and waved his hands impatiently. “No, that won’t work. The dragon is dead. There are no more dragons in this part of the world. Besides, Jahre forbade me from destroying it.”
“Why is that?” Jaleal pressed.
Elroa sighed. “Who are you, exactly?” Elroa asked pointedly.