Malek turned back to Levin. “The Fae who remained in the light were Seelie, while those who embraced the darkness and abandoned their creators were Unseelie. Their magic is similar, but the Unseelie had to twist theirs into something darker to defend against the demons and dwarves while they were trapped in Underhill.”
Pozgil dipped his finger into some of the blood on the ground and licked it off. “You know your history, Captain Malek. I’d think someone with your learning wouldn’t be such a fool.”
Levin stiffened at the insult and slapped his hand against his sword’s hilt. “Watch your tongue, little man.”
The goblin huffed and finished searching the last body. “I’ll have you know, Dax won’t be pleased with you threatening me. You’re in his city now.”
Malek glanced over at Levin and shook his head. Pozgil could hide behind his master all he wanted for the time being, but the minute Malek got what he’d come for, he’d abandon this ruse. “What did you mean about being foolish?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Pozgil straightened and brushed the dirt off his hands. “Now then, we’d best be on our way. The city’s guards will be along shortly, and they won’t take too kindly to us being here. One near-death experience for the evening is more than enough. Although, I’d rather face down the guards than risk running into Sabine again.”
Malek looked down at the body of the man whose tattoo had disappeared with a small swipe of magic. For some reason, Sabine hadn’t wanted Pozgil or anyone else to see the design. It had been some sort of dagger with the edge wrapped in ivy. The tattoo had been distinctive enough that Malek intended to learn more about it—and hopefully about the mysterious woman who had hidden it.
The goblin started heading out of the alley, and Malek walked alongside Levin, taking the opportunity to study the city. As first impressions went, Akros wasn’t particularly remarkable. Though it was a little rough around the edges, it was similar to dozens of other cities lining the coast. The biggest difference was, it was the gateway city to the southern lands, housing one of the largest mixed magical communities in the world.
Pozgil pinched the bridge of his pointed green nose. “How’d you convince Sabine not to kill you?”
Levin smirked. “He has that effect on women.”
Malek shrugged, not bothering to explain. He suspected her hesitation had been the result of his hasty attempt to speak the language of the Fae. He’d caught the surprise in her eyes. “What do you know about her?”
Pozgil darted a quick look at him. “I know enough to stay away. Dax won’t be happy when he finds out what happened—or about your dinner invitation. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill you right off.”
“Please tell me she’s not involved with the leader of the thieves’ guild,” Levin muttered.
Pozgil nodded. “She’s under his protection. The fact you helped kill one of those men might be the only thing that saves you. I’d suggest canceling your dinner plans and be ready to board your ship as quickly as possible if things go bad.”
The mark on Malek’s wrist tingled as though it possessed its own awareness. He glanced down at it, but the triangular pattern hadn’t changed. It wasn’t common to formalize such a small debt between two people, but she’d wanted to mark him for a reason. If Sabine was involved with Dax, that might be a problem, but he needed to learn more about her. The mark was a guarantee he’d see her again. Otherwise, he wasn’t sure he would have allowed her to walk away. Her power had been like a beacon calling to him from the docks when he’d disembarked from his ship.
“I’m not concerned. It’s only dinner,” Malek said, continuing to walk through the darkened streets. The buildings in this area of town were more run down and a number of them were abandoned. Even though the streets appeared to be empty, he could feel the weight of eyes upon them.
Pozgil snorted. “Dinner. Right.” The goblin looked around and lowered his voice to a hushed whisper, “The last man who looked at Sabine the way you did was found floating in the canal. His limbs had been ripped from his body and were never recovered. The guards said they thought it happened while he was still alive.”
Levin shot him a warning look, but Malek ignored him and continued walking. He’d hoped to have been here a bit longer before offending the disreputable guild master, but he wasn’t about to abandon his purpose.
They turned a corner, and this street was markedly different. Lanterns lined the path, and the street was more congested. It was still a poor area of town, but a handful of prostitutes lounged against the wall calling out a greeting to them as they passed.
A few other people were milling around nearby. Some were a little too sharp-eyed considering the location and time of night, which led Malek to believe they were some of Dax’s men. He’d heard the majority of the city was locked down by Dax’s people, which was why he’d requested this meeting in the first place. Supposedly, Dax had the pulse of almost everything that went on within Akros’s underworld and even in some of the surrounding villages.
At the end of the street stood a brightly lit tavern. Pozgil led them right up to the entrance and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Malek wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the warm and welcoming sight that greeted them. Tables were scattered throughout the overly large room with dozens of people gathered together and enjoying a companionable drink or two.
The bar itself was unlike any he’d seen before. The base was carved out of a single tree, with detailed carvings of leaves and animals perched in the branches. The top of the bar was almost equally captivating, with what appeared to be fractured glass that caught the light of the candles, reflecting it throughout the room and giving the surrounding walls a warm, cheerful glow.
Several more doxies made the rounds throughout the tavern, most of them more appealing than the ones lingering outside. The patrons, on the other hand, enforced the idea this wasn’t the most reputable of areas. They had the sharp eyes and hardened lines on their faces that made it clear they were intimate with a darker side of life. Each one of them appeared heavily armed, and more than a few had scars from previous run-ins with a blade.
Pozgil pushed past the bar and headed directly to a man standing guard in front of another door. The man’s eyes narrowed on Pozgil, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Undeterred, the goblin straightened his body. “I’ve brought Captain Malek and his first mate to see Dax.”
“It’s all right, Campho. They’re expected,” a man said from behind them.
Malek turned to find another man with mixed Fae heritage. He had the same light hair and eyes as Sabine, but there was a coarseness to his features Sabine had lacked. The tusks jutting out of his mouth made Malek question if he carried a bit of troll in his bloodline. Malek detected a faint trace of power surrounding him, but it was more Fae than troll.
“A-apologies, Javyn, er, sir,” Pozgil sputtered, his eyes wide at the approaching Fae. “I didn’t realize you were here.”
Javyn frowned at the goblin. “Dax expected you earlier.”
Pozgil swallowed audibly, his coloring deepening to a sickly green. The metallic and bitter scent of the goblin’s fear was enough to make Malek’s nose itch.
The goblin hopped from foot to foot. “Uh, we ran into some trouble. But everything’s okay. We handled it. Yep. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“You can explain your delay to Dax,” Javyn said before turning toward Malek. “You’re the ship captain?”
Malek inclined his head. “Captain Malek Rish'dan of Obsidian’s Storm.”
“Welcome to Akros. The name’s Javyn. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to see Dax.” Without waiting for a reply, Javyn headed into the tavern’s back rooms. Malek exchanged a look with Levin before following Javyn. Apparently, polite niceties weren’t high on the thieves’ guild’s list of priorities. It was just as well. The sooner he met with Dax, the faster this entire sordid affair could be resolved.
The back area of the ta
vern wasn’t quite as welcoming as the front. A few closed doors lined the hallway with lanterns tucked into stone alcoves, illuminating the darkness. Some of these rooms were under guard, but other than a few curious glances, no one said anything as they passed. Javyn led them toward a steep staircase and headed downward, not bothering to check if they were still behind him.
Malek couldn’t help but think about Sabine again, comparing her more delicate features with the man they followed. If it weren’t for her skin and hair coloring, he’d wonder if Sabine were a full-blooded Fae. Her voice had the same musical lilt and accent that marked someone of Fae descent, but her appearance was far too human. Part of him wished he’d had a chance to hear her speak more of their language to determine if she carried that same inflection in her words. The few pure-blooded Fae he’d known had the ability to cause a reaction simply by speaking. That was part of their gift and power. Some of their words could cause ecstasy while others could drive someone mad. During the last war, Fae captives had to be gagged to prevent them from singing their way to freedom or inciting mass panic.
At the bottom of the stairs was an expansive corridor. The air was heavier down here, with a trace of moisture, and Malek detected the faint sound of rushing water, most likely from one of the canals. A set of heavy double doors was built into the wall, and Javyn pushed them open and led them into a larger room. This had the appearance of a meeting room with an elongated table set up in the center. A handful of people were gathered around the table talking, but it was the man standing at the head of the table who commanded Malek’s attention.
Levin inhaled sharply, and Malek had to force himself not to react or reveal his surprise. For all his inquiries into Dax and his group, no one had even hinted the man he stood before was a demon. Most of them were confined to the underworld, unable or unwilling to venture into the sunlight, which weakened their magic significantly. If Malek had known the guild leader’s identity, he would have handled this entire endeavor differently or even possibly dismissed Dax as a potential resource. This new development made Malek even more curious about Sabine and her ties to a demon.
If legends were true, the dwarves and demons shared the same origins as the Fae. The demons, with their penchant for violence and working the underworld forges, took up residence in the deepest levels of Underhill. They became the caretakers of the molten rock and fires burning deep within the world’s core.
Demons twisted their brand of magic into weapons, lashing out with fire elemental abilities—and it was that same fire ability that concerned Malek now. He only hoped the warding necklace around his neck was powerful enough to mask his true intent. The witch who had crafted it for him had assured him of such, but they hadn’t anticipated the need to deceive a demon.
Levin whispered, “We might want to rethink this plan. Demons have ties to the Fae, but this is too risky.”
Malek shook his head as Javyn approached the demon standing at the head of the table. In a voice too low for anyone else to overhear, Malek said to Levin, “Not just yet. This might still work out to our benefit.”
Levin frowned at him, but Malek didn’t elaborate. Even though they were in a cellar underneath the tavern, Dax shouldn’t be able to live within a mostly human city cut off from the magic of the underworld. Perhaps Akros had a larger source of magic than rumors claimed, or maybe Malek didn’t know the full truth about demons. Either way, he intended to get to the bottom of it.
The man standing at the head of the table was a powerful and massive man, with skin the color of the darkest obsidian. He was a true master of the night—even the light from the lantern seemed hesitant to touch him. The room fell silent as Javyn leaned in close and whispered something to the demon. Dax lifted his horned head, his amber eyes holding the flame of his ancestors as he pinned Malek with his gaze. No matter what he’d hoped, Malek couldn’t deny the truth: Dax would be an adversary who would require careful handling.
Pozgil approached the table and bowed low, almost touching the ground with his forehead. “I-I apologize for the delay, sir. We ran into a bit of trouble, but I’ve brought Captain Malek and his first mate to discuss a business opportunity with you.”
Dax didn’t respond right away. Instead, he motioned for a woman to roll up the maps they’d been studying. As she moved forward and began clearing the table, Dax sat down in his chair, leaned back, and steepled his hands together.
“What sort of trouble?”
Pozgil shifted from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his neck. Malek half expected his knees to start knocking from the way he was panicking. When Dax arched his brow, Pozgil stammered, “Ah, er, well, we happened to run into Sabine.”
A sudden stillness fell over the room at the mention of Sabine’s name. Everyone’s attention became focused on the goblin trembling in front of Dax.
“Is that so?” Dax questioned mildly, but the sudden rigidity in his shoulders made it obvious he was more than a little interested in Pozgil’s response.
“Ah, yes. She… well, some men…” His voice trailed off and his shoulders hunched, clearly uneasy about spilling the full story.
“Dammit, Pozgil. Spit it out already,” another man muttered. This man also had the look of the Fae in his chiseled features, equally as strong as Sabine’s had been. With his nearly white blond hair and pale blue eyes, he could have passed as one of Sabine’s close relatives. But unlike Sabine and Javyn, Malek didn’t sense even a faint hint of power from him.
“Right. Sorry, Verin,” Pozgil said with an eager nod. “Some men attacked her, but she’s okay. She’s fine. They’re all dead.”
“I see,” Dax murmured, drumming his fingertips on the arm of his chair. “And where did this happen?”
“Over by the butcher’s shop on East End Lane.” Pozgil clasped his hands together tightly. From the way his gaze darted around the table, he was obviously fearful he’d be blamed for the attack.
Verin frowned. “How long ago did this happen?”
“Right before we arrived here. The bodies are probably still warm and their blood still wet.” Pozgil snickered, his forked tongue slithering outward as though he could still taste the blood in the air.
Dax motioned toward two of his men. They both nodded and hastened out of the room. When they were gone, Dax leaned back in his chair again. “And what of Sabine?”
“She, uh, she…” Pozgil cleared his throat. “I believe she’ll see you soon. She sends her regards.”
“Does she?” Dax murmured with a trace of a cruel smile.
A heavily armed woman with a long scar down the side of her face spoke up. “Should we attempt to track her?”
“That won’t be necessary. You won’t find her unless she wants to be found. She’ll reappear soon enough,” Dax said with an absent wave. “Was there anything else, Pozgil?”
Pozgil gestured to Malek eagerly. “It was fortunate Captain Malek arrived. He helped Sabine kill one of them.”
Dax arched his brow, sweeping his gaze over Malek. Despite Pozgil’s claims, the look wasn’t overly friendly. “Sabine is under my protection. If you aided her, it would seem I owe you a debt.”
The mark on Malek’s wrist tingled, almost in warning. “That won’t be necessary. The debt belongs to Sabine, and it has been settled between us.”
Dax froze, his features hardening. He studied Malek for a long time, and Malek felt the weight of his gaze as Dax caught sight of Sabine’s mark on his wrist. A brief flash of anger streaked through his amber eyes, turning them to a sharp silver before they reverted to their normal color. For whatever reason, Dax wasn’t pleased with this newest development.
Dax pushed up from the chair. “In that case, perhaps we should discuss why you’re in my city.”
Malek inclined his head. The introductory message he’d sent had outlined his intent, but the demon obviously wanted Malek to go through a song and dance for his benefit. “As my messenger detailed, my purpose here is two-fold. In addition to establishing Akros as par
t of a regular trading route, I represent some individuals who are interested in acquiring certain rare artifacts—discreetly, of course.”
“I’m aware of your request for assistance in smuggling merchandise through the trading blockades.” Dax turned away from the table and paced the length of the room. “Tell me about the items you’re looking to offload.”
“Rare wines, ale, textiles, and other specialty items from the southern dwarven city all the way north as far as the Sky Cities.” Malek wondered if he might need to approach this from a different angle. He had the impression Dax might not be receptive to such an offer, and now Malek was curious how steep the price tag would be to elicit the demon’s agreement. But the smuggling was inconsequential compared to his true purpose. He needed those artifacts found, and Dax’s position left him best suited for the task. The smuggling was only a way to access Dax’s underworld contacts.
“Why should I consider your proposal over the others who have reached out to me?”
Malek took a step toward Dax, refusing to show any signs of weakness. Demons only respected those they considered equals or more powerful, but Malek needed to strike a balance to elicit Dax’s confidence.
“I don’t know what the others have offered you, but in addition to giving you a cut of all trading profits, you’ll also have first pick of the available merchandise. As you know, trading is almost nonexistent with the northern Sky Cities. Through my contacts, you’ll have access to the rarest and most costly merchandise available.”
When Dax arched a brow, Malek buried his smile and added, “As a gesture of our goodwill, my people have been instructed to deliver a crate to you in the morning which will contain a sampling of the items we’re prepared to provide you. Consider it a gift.”
“A gift,” Dax murmured, his gaze turning suspicious. The demon was clearly intrigued, but he was equally cautious. He likely wouldn’t have lasted long in his position if he trusted easily. “Very well. I’ll consider your request and let you know my decision after we assess your merchandise. In the meantime, Javyn will show you to a room. You may remain here for the duration of your stay. We will discuss the rest of your request later.”
To Kill a Fae Page 3