Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (28 page)

Knowing he was defeated, the Kiroba released his dagger to clatter on the hard tiles, but as he did so, his jaw tensed and Kalamar sliced his throat before rolling away. He came to his feet warily as the body collapsed on the floor and blood began to pool on the floor.

Cursing the young Kiroba's foolish action, Kalamar sheathed his dagger and moved to turn the body over. Blood still flowed from the man's slit throat, but Kalamar removed the man's cowl and placed it over the wound, stemming the flow slightly.

The Kiroba was young for an assassin, a few years over twenty perhaps, which was probably why he had not been very good. Kalamar wondered why a second rate Assassin had been sent to kill him, especially if these people knew his background and knowledge.

Stripping away the man's clothing, Kalamar methodically began to search him for clues of his origin. Although he knew the Kiroba were based in Dak'mar, it was possible this Assassin had been sent from somewhere else that he or his spies did not know about.

It did not take him long to find something, and he had to wonder if it were a set-up: so easy was it found and so unlikely an experienced Assassin would have made such an error. There was one coin lodged into the fold of the man’s purse, resisting his casual attempts at removing it, and when he did, it was not a coin found commonly in Thorhus, or for that matter, anywhere in Ariakus.

It was a merchant's silver Floren, small and not round, but with many flat edges. It had the emblem of a pair of scales on one side, the Symbol of the Merchant's Guild. On the other was the Royal insignia of Cartyl, a merchant city on the west coast at the border of Tyr and Ariakus, north of the Elvin land of Lloreander.

Finishing the search and finding nothing else, Kalamar rose and went out of his apartment to find a guard passing by. “Find Master Harkin for me, please. Tell him to meet me here in an hour.”

If the guard noticed the blood from Kalamar's throat, he said nothing, and gave a slight bow of his head when Kalamar dismissed him. Although not a member of the nobility, Kalamar was afforded certain rights and honorifics in the eyes of the soldiers and staff.

Returning to his chambers, Kalamar locked the door and began to make arrangements for a trip. This Assassin, and the disappearance of Kitara, was too much of a coincidence, and he began to suspect the Kiroba had been the ones to kidnap the Princess. Usually, the Kiroba were not so mercenary, but he knew they would have recognized Kalamar and his people as the ones who would discover this truth sooner or later, and decided to get him out of the way.

Which meant others who knew as Kalamar did were in danger!

With a curse, he dashed from his room towards the King's chambers, yelling at guards to follow him as he went. At the King's chambers, he found the door unlocked and charged inside, only to find the surprised King changing clothes, his worn face registering shock and then embarrassment before the guards began to withdraw at Kalamar's signal.

“
I assume there is some reasoning behind this, Kalamar?” The King finished dressing, and Kalamar stepped forward to show him the coin he had found on the Assassin. Dhoric studied it as Kalamar told him of the encounter and of his plans. Surprisingly, the King did not argue with Kalamar's decision to personally lead the expedition.

“
Take whatever you need, Kalamar, but find Kitara.” There was tiredness in the King's voice, almost a resignation, and once again Kalamar's smile was forced as he pressed his hand onto Dhoric's shoulder.

“
Your daughter will be returned, majesty.” It was the best he could offer, and when he turned, he wondered if he had meant what he said, or had just spoken them for the benefit of the King. If indeed the Kiroba were behind this kidnapping, the chances of first finding them, and then rescuing Kitara, alive, were very slim.

But he would make every available effort. Kitara was the closest thing he had to kin, having no wife or children of his own, or even siblings. A determination beyond professional honor drove him as he returned to his chamber.

Hammagor
heard the distant echoing through his very soul, combined feelings of pain, fear and longing. He had not felt these for many centuries, indeed eons, though the source was not unforgotten to him.

Kay'taari.

It was not the Dragons, who he had felt also, and though his hatred for them was deep, he knew they were of lesser number than they had been centuries before, and had not even fought in the last wars alongside the Loremasters. This aura was faint, as if the Kay'taari was far away, or perhaps young and as yet come to full power. Still, the feeling fuelled great anger in Hammagor, who had sworn eternal hatred for the Kay’taari. He had the sudden urge to fly out and seek out the source, this lone Kay'taari, but even his revenge had to give way to the greater cause of his many eons of planning. If there were only one Kay'taari, and he had felt no others nor had his Demon scouts located any more, then it would be easily overcome in due time. There was no need to throw away what surprise they had by killing this Kay'taari, when the pleasure would be greater in time.

The tingling of expectation came over the Demon. His numbers were growing by the day. Soon, he would have five thousand Demons alone here under the caverns of Mount Drac, and the five other Portals that were opened held large numbers, and another two Portals were beginning to break open. His Demons at the Astral City were stalling for time: indeed, the unknown deaths of several of their masters had seen to this, while the Elves were as yet unknowing of their presence.

It would not be long now, he told himself patiently. His master would soon be free to set foot on Kil’Tar, and then there would be no stopping the Demon hosts from crushing its occupants like ants.

With his laughter echoing through the caverns, Hammagor could only imagine what powers would fuel him in the not too distant future, but more than anything, he thirsted for the soul of the Kay'taari.

Despite the four Kiroba who shadowed her every move, Kitara felt more alone and vulnerable than she had ever felt as she walked along one of the many corridors in the great house she was prisoner within. Few rooms were accessible for her, the only ones being the bathrooms, the gardens and the library. It was the library to which she strode now, as had been her daily practice for the last twenty days. Although not large, the library offered a wide variety of knowledge, but it was the histories Kitara was searching for, particularly the growth of the nations and the wars that had been fought. She found nothing on Dragons or the Kay'taari whom Ka'Varel had spoken of.

She felt a twinge of sadness at the memory of Ka'Varel, for surely the old scholar was now dead after the wound Hagar had inflicted upon him. She also held fears for Andrak and Tyrun, but could only pray they had survived.

The library was a large double- level room accessible by a large spiral staircase in the center of the room. Steel railings ran along the opening for safety, for the drop was at least twenty feet to the floor below. Wooden book- cases ran back to back in rows. Books filled the lower shelves while parchments and scrolls were piled on the upper shelves. Small stools provided access to the higher shelves, and each row was labeled with the topic of the books along that row, such as 'Music, or 'Economy'.

This day, however, she was surprised when she entered the quiet library to find Hagar waiting there, seated at the table she usually used, off in one of the corners. Several books and scrolls still remained from the previous day. The librarian, a mute, frail man with wispy grey hair who usually left when Kitara arrived, was nowhere to be seen.

Kitara started off towards the staircase, not bothering to look at Hagar after the initial contact, but the Dak'marian rose quickly, tossing aside a scroll case he had been flipping from hand to hand. He was at her side quickly, keeping pace as she turned again and headed towards the side of the room, between a narrow row of shelves, forcing Hagar to let her pass first. The other Kiroba settled beside the door, confident she could go nowhere as all windows were locked and barred, and the only door into the library was the one they guarded.

“
What? Still no words for your husband?” The young Dak'marians mocking voice always seemed to grate on Kitara's nerves, partly because it was soft and sonorous, and also because of his brashness. She opened her mouth to speak, to spit the denials and warnings she had voiced each time he had made such advances towards her, but the words died on her lips. She knew her words spurred him on even more, and would not give him the pleasure of seeing her frustration.

“
I see you no longer deny this. We will be married, Princess, believe me. It is only a matter of time before we leave for Sha'kar.”

“
Why do we wait, then?” asked Kitara bitterly. She knew any relenting on her part would only make Hagar think she was trying to glean information, but she was beginning to realize the young Kiroba was always eager to show off, which might result in leaked information if she could coax him the right way.

Hagar's pause made her regard him askance, barely in time to see his face set in a worried frown, but it changed when he noticed she was watching him, and the smile returned in force.

“
The High Lady Lotecia is waiting for something, but be sure the day will come when we leave, and you will be mine as has been promised.”

“
Then despite all your bravado and cockiness, you are nothing more than an Ashar'an servant.” It was a daring statement, for she did not know if indeed this High Lady Lotecia was Ashar'an, but through several things she had seen and heard, she had deduced Lotecia was somebody important, and not only as the Ruler of a merchant house in Cartyl. She saw by the sudden anger and rage on Hagar's face she had assumed right, and he grasped her by the shoulder and spun her. She expected a blow, but lifted her head proudly, which might have been why his hand rose, but did not fall.

“
Servant I am not, especially to the Ashar'an witch!” he spat, though his voice was low and hissing, as if he did not want to be overheard. “You have been promised to me, and not even she can change that.” There was a desperate note in his voice, as if some inner fears clashed with his words, but his eyes remained firm, and his smile returned, as mocking as ever. He began to shake his head, as if realizing what she was trying to do to him.

“
Very clever, my sweet. I cannot wait to get you to Sha'kar. You will be the envy of many of my opposition.”

Kitara was going to say only until she had a chance to drive a dagger through his heart, but she was interrupted as a shallow chime rang through the room. This Kitara had not heard before, and Hagar seemed to be startled by it momentarily before he began to move away, but he halted briefly to take her hand. She struggled against his grip, but could not pull away as he raised it to his lips and kissed her hand.

“
Until next we meet, my love.” He was gone then, his dark cloak swirling around him, and his light footfalls echoed softly through the room, before the loud clang of the heavy door closing signaled his exit. Fighting back tears of rage and hatred, Kitara dropped to the floor, her back pressed hard against a bookshelf, and her face buried in her hands as she cursed her predicament. She felt like a sheep among a pack of wolves that had just eaten: sooner or later, one or all of them would get hungry.

Tears did come then, and did not leave for some time.

The green expanse of Lloreander settled before Andrak like an ocean. It was a pure vision to Andrak, unspoilt and serene, as if it possessed a magic of its own. He felt suddenly heartened, the growing fears he had felt during the past days fading in his mind, but not enough for him to forget the urgency and importance of speed, so he was not afforded much time to take in the splendors of the Elvin land from their vantage as Janantar pressed forward.