The Knights of Erador (The Echoes Saga: Book 7), page 20
The elven ambassador looked up from the flowers she had been inspecting to discover Kassian pointing his wand at her. He couldn’t recall drawing it from the holster on his thigh, but here he was, aiming it at Reyna. It occurred to him, right then, that he should have come up with a plan before drawing his wand, but if he thought about it any longer he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.
Reyna, however, was entirely unfazed by the wand pointed at her face. “Do the Archon serve Valatos, Kassian? If you follow their actions through to the end, do you see it averting war or causing it?”
“The Archon only wants what’s best for Valatos,” he blurted, struggling to unclench his jaw.
“You heard everything I did,” she countered smoothly. “We both know the masters are acting on the instructions of another. That sounds like they are serving themselves, though their price remains to be seen.”
Kassian’s knuckles were white around his wand. “Stop talking.” He couldn’t think straight. Even his intended spell flittered from one to the next.
Reyna slowly shook her head. “Don’t let them make you into a killer, Kassian. I see something far more noble in you. You believe in Valatos, in what it can do for the mages here. You must know there is no future in anything if it is forged with blood.”
The Keeper blinked hard, squeezing tears down his cheeks. “This is who I am,” he managed. “They took me in. Trained me. Gave me a purpose. Valatos is the only future I have.”
“I once thought like that,” Reyna replied softly. “I first came to Illian under the instruction of my father. I was to take the first step toward conquering the realm and bringing it back under elven control… at the expense of humanity. I was brought up to believe that the elven way was the only future I had.” The ambassador stepped closer to that wand tip. “But I saw what was right and what was wrong with my own eyes. And so I made a choice. Because of that choice, your parents survived a war that was never allowed to happen and you were born, along with thousands of others.”
Kassian absorbed her words though, through it all, he wondered why he hadn’t unleashed his spell and seen his duty through. It would be easy, bloodless even. But Reyna’s voice was like honey and her words carried weight, much like the master’s.
“Now is your time, Kassian Kantaris,” the elf continued. “You’ll never get a better chance. Make your choice, but know that you will have to live with it for all of your days.”
The Keeper gritted his teeth and twisted his wrist, searching furiously for the will to fire his spell. But he couldn’t banish that burning question, the one that burrowed deep into his mind, warning him that without the answer he was making a terrible mistake: Who did the Archon serve?
He lowered his wand.
Reyna nodded her understanding before looking past the Keeper and subtly shaking her head. Alarmed, Kassian whipped his head around to see Nathaniel’s sword had been aimed at the back of his neck. How long had the old Graycoat been behind him? That question was obviously plastered across his face.
Nathaniel lowered his sword. “Seventy years of practice, kid.”
Kassian believed him, but he turned his attention back to Reyna. “I have to know who the Archon are working for. But I warn you, should I learn that they and Valatos lie on the side of virtue after all, I will see my duty through…”
“Fair enough,” Reyna replied.
The keeper took a much-needed breath before holstering his wand. “What now? I’ve been instructed to kill you both before the king arrives.”
“The king?” Nathaniel echoed. “Vighon’s coming here?”
Kassian nodded. “That’s what the Archon told me. They have hired musicians and stocked up on food for a great feast.”
It was obvious that the Galfreys had no idea about the king’s imminent arrival. “I fear the Archon mean to take more than just our lives,” Reyna voiced.
“Murdering the king wouldn’t just grant Valatos independence,” Nathaniel reasoned, “it would create a void around the throne. The entire realm could be thrown into civil war over it.”
“We need to warn the king.” Kassian couldn’t quite believe the words had left his mouth. “Until the truth can be uncovered,” he added. “I can’t get you out of Valatos. The intricacies of opening portals is beyond my skill. And there are too many Keepers guarding the main gates.”
Nathaniel put his hand up. “I’ve been searching for a way out since they closed behind us. I don’t think we’ll be meeting the king until he arrives.”
“Valatos boasts quite the expanse,” Reyna pointed out. “We will have to hide until the right moment reveals itself.”
“You’re going to hide inside Valatos?” Kassian questioned in disbelief.
“We will have to keep moving,” Reyna accepted. “But we have no other choice.”
“What will you do?” Nathaniel asked pointedly.
The question raised a very important factor that had only just occurred to the Keeper. “I will see to it that you cannot be tracked inside the grounds.”
“You can do that?” Nathaniel questioned with doubt.
“There is a device,” Kassian replied, referring to the Lexichronan, “in the Central Hall, that can reveal everyone’s location. I can… disable it.”
“What will you do then?” Reyna asked. “You are well known in Valatos.”
“I will report your apparent escape and my failure. I will face the punishment that awaits and, hopefully, in the aftermath I might be able to discover the truth behind all of this. I serve Valatos,” he announced with conviction. “If it is being led astray then I see it as my duty to correct that, whether I still hold the rank of Keeper or not…”
Reyna walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t know if this is truly the right path yet. Don’t let doubt cloud your judgement, as it tried with me. In time, you will see the path left behind you and know you made the right choice.”
Kassian’s mouth contorted as he struggled for the right response. “I hope you’re right, Ambassador.” It was all he could say right now, as his doubts tried to convince him he had jumped from one coup to another. “It needs to look like you caught me by surprise,” he asserted. “The Archon are aware you possess no magic. They won’t believe me if I don’t look—”
Having already come to Kassian’s conclusion, Nathaniel drove the pommel of his sword into the side of the Keeper’s head …
17
Wanted: Dead
Where before the world had come back to Asher in a clearing haze, the ranger now woke up with a start. In his dreams, his mind had taken him back to the ambush. The Arakesh had been looming over his wounded body with wicked smiles pulling at their cheeks. As was typical, he woke up a second before that final blow could take his life.
Again, Asher ran his hand over the patches of skin where he had been seriously injured. His mind could still recall the bite of their steel and the icy grip of death as it surely claimed its prize. The vivid memory was hard to marry up with his body, which only bore the scars of a violent life.
Looking down at his body, Abun’Sun’s explanation came back to him. There was magic in his bones…
Asher wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. He was glad, however, to finally have an answer to his appearance and lack of ageing. Of course, there was nothing he could do with the knowledge except to keep on going. As the Drake had pointed out, the magic in his bones could fade away in a handful of years or a handful of centuries. In truth, he wasn’t sure which one was crueller.
As the ranger perched on the edge of his cot, he took stock of his senses. There was no dizziness, his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest, and there wasn’t a drop of sweat forming over his skin. The only evidence that he had suffered at all came in the form of a headache.
The leather flaps in the hut’s doorway rustled when Adan’Karth entered carrying a wooden tray. Asher was instantly curious about the tray’s contents, a result of his growling stomach and dry mouth.
“I am glad to see you are feeling better,” the Drake said, placing the tray of fruit and vegetables on the cot. “I brought you some food and water - you will need both to keep your strength up.”
Asher took in the tray of food with ravenous eyes and tried not to think about the things he would do for a large steak. “Thank you.” The elvish words barely had a chance to leave his mouth before the first apple was between his teeth.
“You have been the source of many discussions since your arrival,” Adan’Karth continued, his lightly scaled skin glittering in a ray of light. “Many of my people would like to meet you, the one who made us.”
The ranger mixed a mouthful of water with the apple, his eyes never drifting from the Drake. “I didn’t make you,” he stated, wondering how many times he would have to tell them that before they accepted it. “And they have nothing to gain by meeting me. I’m just a man,” he added with a shrug.
“The only experience we have with your kind is one of predator and prey,” Adan’Karth explained. “We have met many elves, but your people have hunted us since we fled The White Vale. Abun’Sun believes it is important for us to meet a human who wants to help us.”
Asher couldn’t help but absorb the Drake’s words having heard it said so plainly. He didn’t often stop and think of himself as someone who wanted to help. It felt good.
“Where is Abun’Sun?” he asked, snapping a carrot in half with his teeth.
Adan’Karth tossed his horns to the window. “He is tending to the gardens in the north. Would you like to see him?”
Asher stood up from his cot and walked to the window, where he was given a view of Ikirith in all its glory. He didn’t belong here. It was beautiful and serene - a world he had never known.
“Can you take me back to where you found me?” he asked, ignoring Adan’Karth’s question.
The Drake looked away before replying, “I can take you there, but you will find nothing but death. Their bodies have entered nature’s cycle now.”
“They might possess clues as to who sent them,” Asher responded. “I need to know who’s paying for my head.”
Adan’Karth looked to the north. “It has already been decided. Abun’Sun has granted you a place among us. You would be safe in Ikirith.”
“Not for long,” Asher countered. “And neither would you. The people who are hunting me; they won’t stop until the contract is fulfilled. They’re trained to infiltrate anything, magic or otherwise.”
The ranger had a plethora of memories to look back on to affirm his assessment. He had infiltrated everything from fortresses to palaces without ever being caught and he always left with blood on his hands.
“If you wish to leave, I will show you the way.”
“Thank you.” Asher looked around the hut. “Now where’s all my gear?”
Adan’Karth gestured to an exquisitely carved wardrobe behind him, the wood decorated with intricate patterns and swirling lines. Opening the doors, Asher looked upon his leathers, cloak, and weapons - all hanging neatly, the weapons stood on end.
“Where’s my bow?”
Adan’Karth hesitated. “Ah, the hunter’s weapon… The one you possessed was snapped in half. I left it in the woods.”
The ranger stopped himself from groaning and, instead, went about dressing himself. He was surprised to discover that his green cloak was clean and absent any tears. Similarly, his leathers and armour were free of blood. He strapped the quiver of arrows to his back and slid the silvyr short-sword down beside it. His two-handed broadsword was the only weapon remaining since all of his daggers were still buried in the Arakesh.
Then he saw it, the only thing hanging on the beam.
The ranger reached up to grab the strip of red cloth but his hand paused in the air. Like everything else, it appeared to have been cleaned, the sweat and blood removed likely by the Drakes’ magic.
Asher finally took the red cloth in his hand and turned to Adan’Karth. “Why did you bring this back?”
The Drake looked from the cloth to the ranger. “Because you were clenching it in your hand when I found you. I thought it was yours.”
Asher rubbed the material between his finger and thumb. “No,” he replied absently, “I lost mine a long time ago…”
He should have left it in the hut or given it to Adan’Karth to destroy, but he didn’t. The ranger tucked half of it into his belt and let it hang there, as he had done for years before his death in the pools of Naius.
The ranger pocketed the rest of the food and swigged the last of the water. “Let’s go.”
Asher garnered the attention of every Drake between his hut and the fringes of Ikirith. Those he made eye contact with would always look from him to the weapons on his person. They showed no sign of real disgust, but their contempt for the weapons was palpable. During his brief time in their world, he had seen no steel at all, but he was sure that if they were to incorporate it into Ikirith it wouldn’t be forged into swords…
The farther away from the plains they journeyed the more familiar the surroundings became. The trees gradually reduced to The Evermoore’s natural size and began to close in, hiding any magnificent views. Even the colours seemed to fade, as if there was less life in the world outside of Ikirith.
Seeing the way the Drake moved, as he led through the trees, made it all the easier to see that there was an animal side to his species. He glided through the forest with a level of ease that Asher could never attain - and he had been trained to move unheard in every environment.
It wasn’t too long before they came across the first body; the hunter that Asher had discovered pinned to a tree. The ranger waved the flies from his face before pulling the dagger free from the hunter’s throat and the tree beyond. It had all the telltale signs of being forged in Nightfall, from the serrated edge to the symbol of Ibilis, the god of shadows, stamped into the flat surface of the hilt.
Leaving the hunter’s corpse to slump down the tree, Asher moved on to inspect the camp. Just as he had left it, the cold fire pit was surrounded by more dead hunters, all with their throats slit open. Among them were two dead Arakesh and a third lay a few yards away from the makeshift camp, a red gash connecting his shoulder to his groin.
Adan’Karth remained by the tree line, almost wary of even entering an area where there had been violence. Asher quickly went about searching through the corpses of the three assassins, his hands patting them down for anything concealed. It wasn’t often an Arakesh would keep anything that tied them back to Nightfall, their contact or their intended target. But these three had been the least experienced among them, making it at least a possibility.
“You killed these men?” Adan’Karth asked quietly.
Asher spared a glance at the massacre. “Not all of them.”
The first two assassins possessed nothing but weapons. Stepping over their bodies, and those of the hunters, the ranger moved on to check the third Arakesh, whom he had used as a shield during the fight.
“These men,” Adan’Karth continued, “they are paid to kill others?”
Asher imagined how that concept must sound to a being as passive as a Drake - it only added to his deep shame. “They are. In this case, they have been paid to kill me.”
Adan’Karth dared to tread a step into the clearing so that he might better see the ranger. “Where do they come from?”
Asher looked up from the corpse, happy to see that curiosity wasn’t a solely human trait. “They come from all over, but they’re trained in a place called Nightfall, in The Arid Lands. At least that’s where it used to be,” he added, his focus shifting to the assassin’s pockets. Nothing.
Rising back to his feet, Asher made his way through the trees to another clearing not far away. It was here that he had faced the remaining four Arakesh and almost died himself. He immediately began searching the body of the nearest assassin, pausing to reclaim the dagger in the man’s foot. Next, he removed the arrow from his face and replaced it in the quiver on his back.
“This Nightfall can move locations?” Adan’Karth continued to question, trailing Asher to the side.
“They’ve likely relocated now,” Asher replied, his hands rummaging through more pockets. “Nightfall was in the same place for a thousand years. But, fifteen years ago, it was invaded by The Black Hand - necromancers - and the order was decimated. We thought they were gone for good. I haven’t heard a thing about them in all this time. Now they return… Though why they’re hunting me again remains to be seen.”
“They have hunted you before?” the Drake asked, familiar with being the prey.
“A long time ago - punishment for abandoning my oaths. I survived the Court of Assassins though. After that, I was just to be eliminated if I ever crossed their path; which I went to great lengths to avoid.”
Adan’Karth looked to be absorbing every bit of information, even if he didn’t understand it all. “What is a necromancer?” he finally asked.
“I suppose it isn’t the most common word,” Asher conceded. “They’re dark mages; wizards who use forbidden magic to bring back the dead.”
The Drake subtly shook his horned head. “The world beyond Ikirith is truly unknown to us. I understand all that you say… but I also do not understand any of it.”
Asher shrugged. “That’s not far off the way the world works actually.” He moved on to the next body, this one the blonde female. She still had her own short-sword impaled in her chest and a displaced kneecap.
It wasn’t long before he was checking the next body, dismayed by the lack of clues he was finding. The last two bodies to be checked were down an incline, a bloody ditch to be exact. Neither body had anything but his own daggers to find, all of which he sheathed across his body.
“If they were decimated as you say,” Adan’Karth called from the top of the hill, “how can there be seven of them in The Evermoore?”
Asher didn’t have anything but educated guesses for that question. “Nightfall was a maze of burrows. There had to be a few who made it out. They must have relocated and started from scratch.”
