The King's Ring (The Netherworld Gate Book 2)

by Sam Ferguson

  “I am Seldaric Gendarion, of house Flinn,” Seldaric told the newcomers as he bowed with a sweep of his arm out to the side.

  “I’m Kai,” the ex-Ranger said. “I’m a human from a small, brown house in the desert city of Rasselin.”

  Wendel and Lendorian glanced to each other and then noted the tattoo on Kai’s hand.

  “Let’s go,” Garfule said dryly.

  Kai let the others pass him before he followed. He wanted to get a good look at the new additions to the party. Wendel was about five feet tall with gold hair pulled back into a braided plait behind his head. His fiery blue eyes seemed to dart everywhere, always searching the surrounding area, even though the group hadn’t left the city yet. Lendorian was slightly taller than Wendel. His hair was also braided into a plait, but it was silver like Seldaric’s. His eyes were black and darker than Garfule’s. Kai noticed a small rune tattooed on the back of the elf’s left hand, but he didn’t recognize it. They both gave him curt looks as they passed by, but they remained silent.

  “What was the tattoo on Lendorian’s hand?” Kai asked Seldaric in a whisper.

  Seldaric clapped Kai on the shoulder as he urged his comrade to follow the others. “There isn’t enough time to explain.”

  “Is he an agent like us?” Kai pressed.

  Seldaric shook his head and pushed Kai along. “No, now let’s go.”

  Kai regarded Seldaric with a curious look. Then he moved to catch up with everyone.

  As soon as they reached the outside of the city, the elves all began running down the road.

  Kai moaned and shook his head. Suddenly he wished that he had thought of locating a horse.

  *****

  Talon sheathed his magical sword and looked down at the dead elf in front of him. This one had been strong. He gave no information about the castle ruins. It didn’t matter very much though. The assassin was within minutes of the castle, and the relic it guarded. He bent down and picked up the elf’s scimitar. He slipped it in through his belt, deciding not to let a good blade go to waste. Then he looked out over the valley below.

  The setting sun set the sky ablaze with shades of pink and orange above the remote Sierri’Tai castle nestled deep within the tangled woods. It would have been very difficult to find, if not for the information he had acquired from Governor Gandle and his former employer. The ruins were set on top of a hill that overlooked several acres of grassland surrounded by a sea of green trees and bushes. The forest carpeted over tall mountains that helped to hide the castle’s location and protect the valley.

  Talon sat atop the crest of one of the mountains on the southern end of the valley, wondering what the castle had looked like when it was first built. It must have been impressive before the wars ravaged it. Even now he could see towers and sections of the outside wall that were yet intact. As he looked closely he realized that the wall he was looking at must have been an inner keep, for he spotted remnants of another wall that had once surrounded it. Every few yards a jagged formation of stone rose up from the grassy hill and hinted at the castle’s former glory.

  The assassin smiled and looked to the mountains around him. It would be twilight soon. Then he would emerge from his spot and assault the castle. He had been informed that the Svetli’Tai Kruks kept watch over the area. He knew that this next item would not be easy to lay his hands on. He had learned enough to know that the Kruk warriors at this castle were famed to be the elite of the organization. The ones he had fought before in Medlas were lower ranking individuals. A normal man would have been intimidated, but Talon was excited by the thrill of competition. He was eager to see how good the Kruks were who guarded the last relic.

  He would do his best to move slowly through the grassland. It was risky, but there was no other option. The forest had never been allowed to grow very close to the castle. This afforded the defenders maximum warning of attackers. He would have to go through the open fields and try to blend in with the tall grasses to reach the castle.

  As he looked out over the expanse of green grass, Talon couldn’t help but think on the strange elf he had tortured at the Golden Leaf Inn. Had Jahre’s ghost truly been in the room with them? Talon frowned and shook his head at the injustice of the idea that Jahre’s spirit should be allowed to go free while Talon’s father had been dragged down to Hammenfein by Khefir. It was proof that there was no justice to be found among the gods.

  Perhaps after Basei was destroyed, Talon would turn his blade to other gods.

  He sighed and shook his head. Maybe it had all been a trick. Elroa might have been using magic, or perhaps he had all of the information prior to meeting Talon. Jahre could have easily told Elroa about Talon’s mother. The council in Svatal could have informed Elroa about how Jahre died.

  What if Elroa had been telling the truth? What if Jahre was there? Why would the elf still be trying to persuade Talon to look for the ‘goodness’ inside himself? What was the point?

  Talon sighed again and rested his hand on Drekk’hul’s handle.

  “They are lies,” Drekk’hul whispered as it read Talon’s mind. “The elves have long hated the drow, and all other races they view as inferior. They would say anything to save themselves, or to raise their power over another.”

  Talon thought on the words, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Jahre had in fact been in that room.

  “No doubt his phantom was there,” Drekk’hul hissed. “He was there to sow doubt. If you doubt, then perhaps you will reconsider opening the gate.”

  “There is no chance of that,” Talon promised. “I will open the Netherworld Gate.”

  “Then let’s move,” the sword urged him. “We are close to my home. While we are inside, I shall be even more powerful. You will not need to touch me in order for me to communicate with you. I will also be able to protect you in new ways.”

  “Why do you serve me?” Talon asked aloud.

  “Because you seek to set the Sierri’Tai free. I serve you as the rightful king of the Sierri’Tai. Now, let us go forth and show these foolish elves the might of the Sierri’Tai! Let us no more heed the whispering lies of a dead elf.”

  Talon nodded and looked down to the sword. He gripped the handle tight and felt the strength and vigor flow into him from the magical blade.

  As the sun fell below the horizon completely and the dark gray twilight fell upon the land, Talon climbed down from the mountain and started his slow advance towards the castle. He slipped through the forest without incident and stopped only when he reached the edge of the tree line. He crouched low and slipped through the tall grass with a determined, yet soft gait. He then converted his crouching walk to a crawl. He moved slowly through the foliage, careful to ruffle as few of the tall, green blades with his passing as possible. However, even that was not enough to hide him from the first Kruk.

  The assassin pulled Drekk’hul from his belt as he rose to his feet to meet the elf next to a small boulder. Talon quickly deflected a thrown dagger with his sword and stepped left as the fast elf sent another blade flying through the air. The assassin leapt forward and slashed his sword down and to the right, catching the elf’s left leg just behind the knee. Down went the elf into a rolling somersault. The elf slashed as he turned about to face Talon, but the assassin had expected the counter and was already in position to block it with his sword.

  Talon then booted the elf in the face with his left foot, sending the Kruk rolling over backwards. The Kruk warrior scrambled to his feet, but Talon was already there and he sent his blade through the elf’s abdomen. The assassin quickly wrenched the Kruk’s sword out of his hands and then wrapped his arm over the Kruk’s mouth. The guard convulsed and struggled against Talon, but he was not nearly powerful enough to shake loose. The two stood still, with the assassin using his sword to prop the Kruk up as he moved in close.

  “How many guard the castle?” Talon whispered.

  The elf looked at him with laughing eyes and bit down on Talon’s forearm. The assassi
n yanked his arm free and belted the elf across the jaw. His right gripped Drekk’hul, which was still lodged in the elf, and gave it a twist to deter the elf from doing anything else. The elf clenched his jaw and fell to his knees.

  “I am dead anyway,” he said in a raspy voice. “Why should I tell you anything?”

  “It’s true that your wound is mortal,” Talon replied with a nod. He knelt to face the elf, his right hand still firm around the sword’s handle. He placed his left hand on the elf’s throat and squeezed just enough to ensure that his prisoner couldn’t scream. “You will surely die,” Talon said grimly. “The difference is that if I walk away, you will die slowly and painfully. The vultures and wolves will likely be upon you before you have passed. You will still be alive when they begin to eat you.”

  “Fie on you, human,” the elf said.

  “Let me drink more of his blood,” Drekk’hul called out to Talon. “It is so delicious.”

  Talon gave the sword a little jerk. The elf jolted and his eyes shot wide open. “Perhaps I will stay here with you for a while,” Talon said. “I find this kind of conversation to be quite enjoyable for me.” Talon sneered eerily. “On the other hand, if you answer my question I will end your life painlessly and quick. The choice is yours.”

  “Go, you cur, walk on to your death. I swear my brothers will kill you for your intrusion. We have never allowed a single intruder inside the castle for five centuries.”

  The assassin chuckled and gripped the elf’s throat tighter. “Your brothers have never had a challenge like I will give them.” Talon pulled Drekk’hul out from the elf’s body and held it up for the Kruk to see.

  As the blood disappeared into the blade, the Kruk’s eyes went wide. “You hold Drekk’hul,” the Kruk said breathlessly.

  “I also have the other two relics,” Talon said.

  “Even the dark blade cannot prevail here. This ground is watched over by the gods themselves,” the Kruk replied weakly.

  Talon scoffed. “Soon, I will be called a god, and your civilization will be no more.” Talon set the point of his magical blade against the elf’s thigh.

  “I will not talk, no matter what you do,” the Kruk promised.

  “Let me drink of his blood!” Drekk’hul cried.

  Talon thrust the blade into the elf’s leg, twisted it and then pulled downward, opening the wound and letting the sword drink deeply of the elf’s blood. Smoke hissed and issued forth from the wound in the elf’s leg. The assassin smiled at the beauty of his sword’s bite. A faint, purple glow formed along the blade as it absorbed much of the Kruk’s blood. The elf’s eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness. Talon removed Drekk’hul and then finished the warrior off with a quick stab to the heart. As soon as the blade absorbed the last bits of blood from its surface, Talon returned it to its sheath.

  “There are twenty more inside the castle,” Drekk’hul told Talon. “I was able to find the information he was unwilling to give.”

  “Did you get the location of the key?” Talon asked aloud in a whisper.

  “I will guide your feet.”

  “Thank you,” Talon said with a smile.

  This Kruk, and the one from the mountain, had been much easier to defeat than he had anticipated. He figured that either Drekk’hul was giving him great strength, or that the ability of the Svetli’Tai Kruk may have been exaggerated by the elves from whom he had previously extracted information. Either way, he had a feeling that he was going to enjoy this night. Still, he would be cautious as there was no need for carelessness now that he was so close. He was within reach of the last item he needed in order to open the Netherworld Gate.

  A large smile formed on his lips when he thought of that. He would become a king over an army of agile and skilled warriors. An entire army that would act on any command he gave as though it was their sole purpose in life. That thought pleased him very much. It was also intriguing for him to think on the notion of an army that could wield magic, as had the old Sierri’Tai in Bluewater. The prospect of such power under his control almost made him drunk with delight. He turned his gaze back to the castle ruins and disappeared into the grass once more.

  As Talon advanced up the hill he forced all other thoughts from his mind except for the task at hand. Now he focused with all of his mental acuity on the infiltration of this castle. He crouched quietly in the grass while it grew darker around him with the approach of night. Apparently no one had noticed the recent battle in the valley because Talon had not seen or heard any movement since then.

  Talon inched up to the castle wall slowly. Instead of trying to enter the courtyard through the gate he decided to climb up the wall using the exceptionally strong vines that were growing underneath the ivy that had grown over the wall through the past five centuries. Talon put on a pair of leather gloves that had small metal spikes on the palms to assist in climbing. Within a few moments he was peeking over the top of the wall just enough to check for other guards on the battlement. He saw one Kruk on the battlement walking away from him about ten yards to his left. He scanned the other directions and saw movement in the towers on the northern wall, but no one else was on the southern wall.

  He slid over the parapet and slid a dagger into his right hand. He ran as fast as he could, while staying hunched and silent so as not to be seen or heard until the last moment. He sprang up behind the Kruk, shoved his dagger into the guard’s lower back and slammed his hand over the guard’s mouth as he pulled him down. The spikes on his glove tore into the guard’s cheek and made it impossible for the guard to get away. Talon removed the dagger and thrust it into the Kruk’s neck twice before moving on to the nearest tower at the southwestern corner of the wall.

  He ducked down and slid up against the waist high wall of the tower and waited. There was no shouting, no bells and no whistles. The guards had not seen him. He peeked over the wall and gauged the distance to the northwest tower. He quickly removed his climbing gloves and put on his plain leather gloves. There was no need for the spikes now that he was done climbing vines.

  He pulled out a mini-crossbow and loaded a bolt. He slowly slid his weapon onto the wall and took aim at a guard in the northwest tower. He slowed his breathing and counted to three. Then he fired the weapon and watched until he saw the guard clutch at his forehead and slump down.

  Talon reloaded and then looked into the courtyard. There were four guards talking and eating at a small table off to the left of a doorway. He rested the mini-crossbow at his feet and pulled out his throwing daggers. He held two daggers in his right hand and the third in his left. He took in a deep breath and focused. He pictured the four men at the table in his mind. He visualized his throw, and the death of his targets. He let out the breath slowly and then jumped to his feet. He let all three of the daggers fly and then he grabbed his crossbow and took aim. Three elves jolted and cried out. Talon fired the min-crossbow and the fourth elf went down without a sound.

  A bell rang in the northeastern tower. Shouts and curses rose up from the wounded elves in the courtyard. Talon smiled and pulled Drekk’hul from its sheath. He snuck a peek over the wall and saw two elves running around the wall towards him with a third remaining in the tower. The assassin realized that the third was not merely standing in the tower, but taking aim with a bow. As fast as the assassin was, there was no way he could dodge the arrow. It sailed at him with blinding speed. Just as it was about to strike his chest, the arrow spun away as if it had glanced off an invisible shield. The assassin was astonished, but he soon knew the truth of it. Drekk’hul was warm in his hand, glowing violet.

  “As I drink of the Svetli’Tai blood, I become stronger,” Drekk’hul said.

  Talon rushed along the wall, eager to meet the two Kruk’s advancing toward him. Arrows zinged by him, but he was unafraid of the missiles. Drekk’hul magically shielded him from any shaft that came close to hitting him. Some of them burst into flame and were destroyed, others exploded into harmless dust and pulp, and the re
st were swept away by the invisible shield.

  The approaching elves raised their weapons and cried out to their gods. Talon smiled and rushed in. He cut left and then right with his blade. The force of his strikes shattered both of the scimitars and the elves had to backpedal to avoid certain death. One of them pulled a knife from his belt and dove forward, slashing and stabbing at Talon while the other pulled a pair of tomahawks. The assassin sidestepped the first elf, spun around and stabbed Drekk’hul through the Kruk’s side. The blade squealed in ecstasy. The second elf advanced without giving Talon enough time to pull his sword back, so the assassin yanked the scabbard off his belt and parried the tomahawks.

  The wounded Kruk still lashed out with his knife, but Talon sent a backhanded swing of the scabbard at the elf’s head and crushed his skull. Talon pulled his glowing sword free and launched a series of blocks as the next elf swung furiously with his tomahawks. Talon brought the hard scabbard into the battle, clubbing at the elf’s side with his left hand and soon put the tomahawk wielder on the defensive. Talon gracefully cut and sliced the air with his sword while he drove devastating blows into the elf’s ribs and shoulders with his scabbard. Each swing of the hard, metal scabbard drove the elf closer to death while the blade teased him and frustrated his attacks.

  A cloud of smoke spewed forth from the mouth of the scabbard and wrapped itself around the elf like a giant serpent. The elf screamed in rage and swung his tomahawks wildly, but didn’t come close to striking Talon. The assassin marveled at the sword’s power for an instant before thrusting the blade into the swirling cloud to end the Kruk’s life.

  Talon sprinted along the wall toward the northeast tower. The archer was frantically firing arrow after arrow, but none of them hit their mark. Even as the assassin came with a few feet the archer nocked another arrow to the bow.