Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) (22 page)

“Drop your weapons,” she ordered. “You’re outnumbered, and there are more of us coming.”

They were trapped.

Tallin allowed his sword to drop to the floor. Instantly, one of the assassins retrieved it and screamed when the sword burned his hand. Skera-Kina shot the man a strange look and then turned to Tallin. “That’s the same sword you stole from me outside the Highport Caverns.” She kicked the hilt with her boot. “So you’ve set an enchantment upon my blade? Very clever. I’ll just force you to remove it.”

Tallin raised his chin. “I did not enchant the blade. It is unchanged. And I didn’t steal it from you—that sword rightfully belongs to my family. My aunt crafted it herself.”

Skera-Kina’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying, dwarf.”

Mugla sighed deeply. “He isn’t lying,” she said, stepping forward. Mugla looked at both of them and then leaned down and picked up the blade, holding it against her chest. The other assassins in the room stepped forward, but Skera-Kina raised her hand, ordering them to back off. Mugla handed the sword to Skera-Kina hilt-first. “Go on, take it… it won’t burn ye.”

Skera-Kina accepted the sword with some hesitation. “What sorcery is this?”

Mugla cleared her throat. “I was hoping for a better time to say this, but I guess this is going to have to be it.” She turned to face her nephew. “Tallin, the sword’s enchantment only allows for someone of my bloodline to touch it. That’s why ye can both touch the blade.”

Tallin’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“It’s true. Look at her. Look into her eyes. She’s yer sister. Yer half-sister.”

Tallin’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest. Skera-Kina didn’t say anything, but threw the sword to the ground with disgust.

Looking crestfallen, Mugla went and touched Tallin’s cheek. “You have the same mother—my sister, Tildara. I’m sorry for keeping this secret from ye. So, so sorry.” Tears rolled down her face.

Tallin looked ashen. It was too horrible to think about. Too horrible to grasp.

Skera-Kina’s face was unreadable. “Who is my father then?” she asked, with steel in her voice.

“I don’t know,” said Mugla quietly. “It was an elf. Tildara was raped by an elf during the war—she got pregnant. I don’t know anything beyond that.”

Carnesîr blurted, “Now that’s not fair! It wasn’t really a rape. She seemed to enjoy—uh…” He froze, suddenly realizing what he had admitted. He stopped abruptly and dropped his gaze to the ground.

Mugla swung on him. “What did ye say?”

“Nothing!” Carnesîr repeated. The other elves didn’t speak.

Mugla’s mind made a sudden link. She lifted a trembling finger in Carnesîr’s direction. “You! It was you! You were at Mount Velik during the war. You were part of the contingent that came to help us! You’re that one who attacked my sister! Tildara got pregnant because of you! You smooth-faced, vile
, snake!”

Skera-Kina looked back steadily and then stepped toward Carnesîr, stopping just a few steps in front of him. She looked him hard in the eye. “Is this true? Are you my father?”

The elf nodded slowly. “I guess I am.”

Skera-Kina met his gaze, searching his eyes for a moment. Then she nodded and raised her arms high, plunging both daggers deep into Carnesîr’s chest. Carnesîr staggered back, screaming with agony and surprise.

The other two elves jumped forward to help him, but they were swiftly blocked by a dozen other assassins.

Skera-Kina twisted the knives deeper, ignoring the spray of blood on her face. Together they crashed to the ground, Carnesîr clawing at the air. Tears were in his eyes as he spoke, “Why? Why would you do this to me?”

Skera-Kina’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “Why? Because you are my father! And because you doomed me to a life of endless slavery! I will be forced to serve the temple for hundreds of years! It is
you
who are responsible, because you could have saved me—
and you did not!”

Raising her head, she howled with humiliation and rage.

With that, she withdrew the daggers, leaving a gaping hole in the elf’s chest. Skera-Kina stood up and loomed above him. “You have
disgraced
me, and given me the gift of a wasted life. Enjoy the ending to yours.”

Carnesîr coughed blood and lay still.

Tallin felt sick to his stomach and he could hardly breathe. Amandila and Fëanor were crying. Mugla was trembling, unable to speak.

Skera-Kina spat on the ground. Her face and arms were streaked with blood.  “Take them down to the dungeons. Find a cell large enough to hold them all. Chain the elves to the wall and pierce their ears with iron wire; that will prevent them from playing their little glamour-games on us. No one but the high priest is allowed to speak to them.”

Skera-Kina tilted her chin upward and eyed Tallin carefully. “So, dearest
brother
... have you anything to say for yourself? Anything at all?”

Tallin met her gaze evenly. “You have defeated me. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Victory?”

She didn’t blink or look away from him. “This is not a victory for me.”

Stunned by her words, Tallin stumbled back. He looked into her eyes and saw her face stripped of emotion. There was nothing there; no spark. She was like a dead thing.

His cheeks flamed.
After everything that had happened, could he possibly feel pity for her?

Skera-Kina leveled her gaze at Tallin. “I am a slave—a slave for life. I am a wretched creature. I shall live in bondage forever, bound to the temple until the end of my days. No matter how much violence I commit against you, you will always be victorious over me, because you are a freeborn man. Even in death, you would be the victor.”

She spoke so emotionlessly that a shiver ran up Tallin’s spine. He was speechless. Tallin realized he was in a state of confusion, and he felt drained, shattered. Finally, he whispered, “You don’t need to accept the world as it is.”

“Spare me your pity,” replied Skera-Kina coldly. “You shall need it for yourself.”

Read the exciting conclusion of the
Chronicles of Tallin
in the next volume:

Kathir’s Redemption

ISBN: 978-1-937361-16-7

Coming: February 2015

About the Author

Kristian Alva was born into a family of writers and teachers. She worked as a staff writer and a ghostwriter before publishing her own manuscripts. She now writes young adult and middle-grade fantasy full-time.

She currently lives in California with her family. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading all genres, especially epic fantasy. Find out more about the author at her official website:
www.KristianAlva.com
.