Emerald of the Elves (38 page)

The Dark Riders quickly moved to the sides and the Black Devil hurled a fireball into the barricade. The dry wood burst into a raging fire.

“Are you crazy?” yelled one of the Dark Riders. “What are we supposed to do now, wait for it to burn? We can’t pull it apart if you set it on fire.”

The Black Devil frowned as the Dark Riders whirled and headed back up the street. They split into two groups at the first intersection. Each group dismounted and started to dismantle the barricades before them. Almost simultaneously, the tins of fire glue fell and burst into flames. The Dark Riders backed into the intersection. Calastano and Klarg arrived to see the three burning barricades.

“Enough,” shouted Klarg. “Let them go. Return to the ambush site. I want our wounded cared for.”

“And find some way to counteract this foul itching,” added Calastano. “We cannot fight and scratch at the same time.”

The Dark Riders mounted and rode dejectedly northward towards the burning buildings. One of the Black Devils opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out as he stared at the foul mood of Calastano. He shook his head and followed the other Black Devils northward.

“This is a catastrophe,” Calastano scowled softly as he sat next to Klarg. “I cannot even begin to tally up our losses today. Yesterday was bad enough, but Sarac will have our heads for this defeat.”

“I thought all of the Black Devils were revenants,” frowned Klarg. “How is it that they only die once?”

“Most Black Devils are not revenants,” corrected Calastano. “Hagik and I are, but the rest are not.”

“Why is Hagik dead then?” inquired Klarg.

“All of the Black Devils killed at the ambush near the rise were decapitated,” explained Calastano. “It appears that Tork does not care for taking chances where Black Devils are concerned.”

“He had no chance to decapitate anyone today,” observed Klarg. “Perhaps it is time for the remaining Black Devils to become revenants. It will stop this type of attack in the future.”

“The future?” echoed Calastano. “I do not think you appreciate our position here, Klarg. We have no future. We might as well throw ourselves into these burning fires. Sarac will demand our deaths over these failures. He has given Sarac’s Ravens unprecedented authority and power. In return, he will accept no measure of failure. It is hard to describe this as anything but a major failure. No, my friend, we are already dead. It is only a matter of Sarac choosing the time and the place for the executions.”

“I care for life a little bit more than what you are proposing,” snickered Klarg. “I do not die easily and I will not let Sarac have my life when I have faithfully tried to do his bidding.”

“So you will refuse the execution?” Calastano laughed sarcastically. “What makes you think that you have any choice in this matter?”

“I have not attained my rank and seniority by being a fool,” smirked Klarg. “Let me ask you a question. Who leads Sarac’s Rangers?”

“I do,” frowned Calastano. “What are you getting at? Do you think that I will absolve you of guilt because you acted properly?”

“Certainly,” grinned Klarg. “Just as I will absolve you of guilt for these failures. Your answer to my question was the wrong answer. The fact is, Hagik commands Sarac’s Ravens.”

“Hagik is dead,” Calastano shook his head.

“Is he?” questioned Klarg. “I would not be in any hurry to agree with you. In fact, I charge that Hagik is leading Sarac’s Rangers very poorly at this time. So poorly, that I am tempted to file a protest with Sarac. I will ask that Hagik be executed and command given to Calastano, who just happens to agree with my assessment of Hagik’s abilities.”

Calastano stared at Klarg for a long moment before turning and gazing at the still-burning fires. “You are devious, Klarg.”

“I know,” grinned Klarg. “It is a required talent to remain alive these days.”

“If just one of the men refuses to go along with this,” warned Calastano, “Sarac will kill us.”

“You just said that we would be executed anyway,” Klarg pointed out. “We have nothing to lose. I will make sure that my men also understand that their lives are riding on this. They will cause me no problems. What about the Black Devils?”

“As you say,” shrugged Calastano, “we have nothing to lose. I will impress upon my men that their necks are in the noose. I do not think any of them will deviate from the plan.”

“Even when we send them back to Sarac to become revenants?” asked Klarg.

“I will not risk that,” Calastano shook his head. “I will ask for revenants as replacements for the men that we lost, but these men will not be returning to Sarac. That is something that we must agree on. When our task is complete, the men that are with us now must die. I will leave nobody around to refute our description of Hagik’s poor performance here today. Do you agree?”

“That, my friend,” snickered Klarg, “is a decision that I can live with.”

Bin-lu walked into the office of Colonel Zackary Nolan in the Royal Palace of Tagaret. The colonel acknowledged him, and Bin-lu sat in the chair in front of the desk.

“I think I know how the assassins gained access to the Royal Palace,” declared Bin-lu. “There are sewers running under the city. A young girl took me on a tour of them because she was concerned about finding evidence of someone else using the sewers.”

“Someone else?” questioned Zack. “What do you mean someone else?”

“The children that used to steal food shipments used the sewers,” explained Bin-lu. “They called it the Thieves' Highway. One of them recently found evidence that other people were still using it for some reason. Nobody is forced to stealing food anymore, so she was concerned about it. I went to see what she was talking about. The trail led right up under the kitchens.”

“That explains the wet boots that alerted me in the first place,” nodded Zackary. “The fake Red Swords were escorting kitchen attendants. I will have that entrance sealed off immediately.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” suggested Bin-lu. “We may be able to use our knowledge to trap the assassins.”

“You learn quickly,” smiled Zack. “Bear in mind that we must close the access before King Arik returns to Tagaret. I will not risk his life in this gamble to catch the assassins.”

“What about Prince Oscar?” questioned Bin-lu. “Should we keep him out of the palace for a while?”

“I believe that Prince Oscar would be willing to be bait for the assassins,” replied Zackary. “He wants the assassins dead before Arik returns. If I arrange a situation that proves tempting to the assassins, can you handle them when they try to escape?”

“Why let them escape?” questioned Bin-lu.

“I do not intend to let them escape,” explained Zackary, “but I believe in redundancy. I always have a backup plan and for this operation, you are it.”

“I will be ready,” promised Bin-lu.

* * *

“Let go of me,” screamed Sheela.

Wylan’s ears immediately came alert. His useless eyes did not bother to open as the noise stirred him from slumber. He remained still as his ears sought to identify the situation.

“You are the one who is dragging foreigners into the sewers,” accused the male voice. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“I do what I want,” shouted Sheela. “You have no right to boss me around. Let go of me. You are hurting me.”

“I have worked too long for this to allow you to interfere,” snarled the male voice. “Get down there.”

Sheela’s scream became muted, and Wylan realized that she was being forced into the sewer on the other side of the wall. He rose and grabbed his staff as he tried to remember the male voice. He had heard it before, but he could not picture the person it belonged to. He shook his head as he wondered if he had actually ever seen the speaker before. Wylan slowly eased the wall panel open and slipped into the other part of the factory.

The sounds of the struggle were faint as Wylan tapped the floor with his staff. He heard the distinctive sound of the metal grate and smiled grimly. He bent down and removed the grate. He removed his scarf and dropped it on the floor. As he climbed into the sewers, the sound of the struggle became amplified. He cocked his head and determined the direction that Sheela and her captor had gone. Wylan moved fearlessly after them.

Wylan moved slowly, but steadily as he probed the ground before him with his staff. After many minutes had passed by, the sounds of Sheela crying became more distant. Wylan tried to quicken his pace. Suddenly, Wylan stumbled and fell into the thin layer of water running through the sewers. When he got back up, the sounds were gone.

Wylan cursed to himself as he continued forward. He strained his ears for any slight sound that would give him a renewed direction. Water trickled everywhere, and several rats scurried nearby, but there was no sound of Sheela. Wylan stopped and thought about going back for help, but finally he shook his head and continued onward. He was not sure that he could find his way back, and there was nobody there he could ask to help him. At least he had left his scarf as a sign of where he had went, he thought.

For several long minutes, Wylan plodded along through the damp and dirty sewers. Suddenly, he slowed as he heard Sheela in the distance. The sound left as quickly as it had come, and Wylan stopped walking. He raised his staff and ran it across the walls. Slowly, he backed up several paces. Sheela’s screams came faintly from his left. He poked the wall with his staff and found an opening. Wylan slowly walked into the opening, his staff testing the ground before him.

A stairway, nodded Wylan, as he started to climb upward. The narrow stairway rose steeply, and Wylan had trouble using his staff to test the ground before him. Eventually the stairway ended, and Wylan listened intently for any sound of Sheela. Her scream was barely audible, but Wylan could determine her direction. He turned to his left and moved as swiftly as he dared.

The sewers sloped upward ever so gently as Wylan strode through the darkness. He had heard one final scream and what sounded like a slap before the sounds ended. He trudged on in near silence, his staff constantly testing the floor of the sewers in front of him. The lonely walk dragged on as minutes passed with no further sounds from Sheela. As despair set in, the sound of Wylan’s breathing overshadowed the faint sounds of the slowly moving water.

Finally, Wylan heard distant talking. His ears perked up as he tried to discern the words of the two men that were having an argument.

“Why did you bring her in here?” yelled a man’s voice. “Are you crazy? If anyone saw you with her then your use to the organization is over. You do know what that means, don’t you?”

“Nobody saw me,” retorted the voice of the man Wylan had been following.

Suddenly Wylan was able to put a face to the voice. He clenched his teeth in anger as he realized that it was Jon who had kidnapped Sheela.

“Besides,” Jon continued, “she can’t tell anyone about me if she is dead now, can she?”

“I am not worried about who she can tell,” countered the mysterious voice. “I am concerned about anyone who might have seen you.”

“There was nobody else in the hideout,” snapped Jon. “Sheri has them all off running errands for that fool boy who calls himself king. Stop worrying.”

“I have to worry,” replied the unidentified voice in a frustrated tone. “With Kendal always snooping around your hideout, you are always in risk of being exposed. That was bad enough without you entering the sewers and coming here. We have a chance to rid Tagaret of that boy king because our secret has remained undiscovered. You endanger us all.”

“Sheela was telling Bin-lu about people in the sewers,” protested Jon. “I did this to protect us.”

“Bin-lu is nobody,” argued the voice. “He is just some Lanoirian that is enamored with being around Arik. He has no position or following in Tagaret. You should have just arranged an accident for him.”

“What’s done is done,” sighed Jon. “Sheela will never tell anyone about this place now. Let’s forget about it.”

“I will not forget about it,” retorted the voice. “I am going to trap the entrance to our lair until the boy king returns to Tagaret. Do not even think about trying to come back here again.”

“Why trap it?” questioned Jon. “With Sheela dead, nobody will know where it is.”

“Because we will only get one more chance at access to the Royal Palace,” replied the voice. “I will not waste it on anyone other than Arik. Until then, the sewers will not be used. Dispose of the girl’s body far away from here, and return to your children.”

Wylan heard sounds of movement coming from the small side channel that he had been standing near. He listened as someone moved further away from him, and then he heard Jon grumble under his breath and begin moving closer. Wylan cursed his blindness as he sought some irregularity of the sewer wall to hide in. Perspiration dampened his forehead as he realized that he had to survive in order to tell someone about Jon’s traitorous actions. People had to know that Jon had murdered Sheela. In order to survive, he needed to find someplace to hide.

The sound of a distant grate slamming shut echoed through the stone tunnels. Wylan started sweating profusely as Jon’s approach became louder. He had no idea if the sewers were illuminated, or if Jon was carrying a torch. He couldn’t tell if Jon would be able to see him, and he was already too close to make noise by fleeing. Wylan held his staff tightly and waited in his own personal darkness.

Suddenly, Wylan heard a soft moan. It was a female voice, and Wylan realized that Sheela was not dead yet. Nervously, he gave up all hope of hiding in the sewers and decided to do what he could to save Sheela. He mentally pictured Jon carrying Sheela’s body and braced himself for the upcoming confrontation. Jon’s footsteps sloshed closer. Wylan waited for Jon to recognize him. He hoped that Jon would be surprised enough to make a sound and give away his position.

Wylan coiled tensely as the footsteps echoed loudly off the stone walls. Suddenly, Jon gasped and then snarled. Wylan’s staff rose swiftly to head level as he swung it hard towards the sound of Jon’s voice. He felt the impact and heard a sharp crack. Jon yelled in pain and surprise. Wylan pictured Jon staggering from the blow and jabbed viciously where he pictured Jon’s head to be. He struck the wall of the sewer instead of Jon’s head. Jon snarled, and Wylan heard something drop into the shallow water running through the sewer.  He realized that Sheela’s body had been dropped, as Wylan heard a knife being pulled from a sheath. Wylan jabbed towards the snarl and felt the staff impact something less solid than the wall. The unseen object gave way before the force of the staff.