The dewkalve was tended by a dozen or more of the feathered Elwhari’Ma who wrangled the great, cargo-carrying beasts. The Elwhari’Ma were a tall, graceful, and generally ill-tempered bird-like race, with long beaks, cold, blinking eyes, and a heavy covering of feathers that could be any color of the rainbow. They frequently adorned themselves with expensive jewelry and were prone to elaborate headdresses made from other Elwhari’Ma they’d defeated in the ritualistic fighting arenas where their species settled feuds.

  Javyk led them into a warehouse district where a number of piers stretched out into the wide river. Some of them were large enough to hold rows of smaller warehouses, and the entire area was busy with activity as cargo moved in and out of Sylverwynd. They wove their way through the warren of warehouses and came upon one of the larger piers, where six tall warehouses stretched away from them. They were all painted a dull gray, and along the tops, just below the roof lines, were small windows, some of which were propped open.

  The pier itself seemed strangely devoid of activity. At the edge of the dock, where the pier connected to the wharf, there were two large, gruff-looking brutes with stern faces. They had the look of men paid to keep people away.

  Javyk stopped, held up his hand to get his entourage to stop, and glanced over his shoulder. “Stay here for a moment.”

  He walked up to one of the brutes. He leaned in and whispered something. The big man nodded once, almost respectfully, whispered something back, and then made a slight motion for Javyk to move on.

  Javyk turned. “We’re going into the third one down. My associates should already be there. Do not say anything. Keep an eye out for anyone showing undue interest in us as we move along the pier, and stay sharp throughout the entire exchange. If all goes well, we will depart without incident, and you will all get paid.” He eyed all three of them. “Now keep close.”

  Rellen glanced up and spotted where Xilly circled in a wide pattern high above them.

  When I go in, see if there’s a way to get inside without being seen. If not, then just stay out of sight.

  I will, she replied.

  Javyk strode up to the third warehouse where the main doors were closed and blocked by several rows of wooden crates. He approached a nearby door and opened it as if he’d lived there his entire life. As they entered, Rellen found himself in a well-lit warehouse full of more crates stacked high enough to almost reach the ceiling. Spiderwebs suggested most of the crates hadn’t been touched or moved for quite a while.

  A wash of bright sunlight emanated from the back side of the structure, and Rellen assumed that the main doors on the water side had been slid open. There was a strange scent upon the air mixed in with the smells of wood and fish, reminding him of burning coal. It was faint, barely perceptible, but he knew he wasn’t imagining it.

  Javyk turned down a narrow gap between the warehouse wall and the crates, moving quickly forward. They’d gone about twenty feet when the gap opened up into a wide area free of crates. A half dozen individuals wearing red hoods to conceal their faces stood on the far side.

  The leader had a silver pendant Rellen recognized immediately. It was the symbol of Nissra.

  Rellen tensed, his hand sliding to one of his falchions. He worried that he and the other bodyguards had been led into the warehouse for some perverted sacrifice to the bitch-goddess of blood.

  I’m in, Xilly’s voice echoed in his head. He scanned the rafters above but couldn’t see her. Far corner, in the shadows.

  Rellen peered more deeply and could just make out the curve of her body, hidden behind a thick beam supporting the ceiling. I see you, he said.

  There’s something odd, she warned. I smell musk… and coal or something… unlike anything I’ve ever encountered. It shouldn’t be here.

  Rellen’s eyes darted around the warehouse, looking for any sign of trouble. I smell it too. There were a number of recessed areas along the walls of crates that surrounded them where someone could hide, but he didn’t see anything that was cause for alarm.

  “Greetings, my brothers,” Javyk said reverently. He then uttered a phrase in a language Rellen had never heard before.

  The six hooded figures repeated the phrase together in unison, as if they were praying. Rellen had no doubt the phrase was in celebration of Nissra. He fought the urge to curse her name out loud.

  “Do you have what I asked for?” Javyk asked.

  There was something in the way he said it that caught Rellen’s ear. It was as a master speaking to a minion.

  “It is here,” the leader of the hooded figures said and pulled out a black leather satchel. It looked somewhat rigid, as if hardened plates lined the interior. It was just big enough to fit the artifact Dancer still carried.

  “Excellent,” Javyk said. He turned to the young man beside him. “Dancer, please hand that over and take the satchel.”

  Without a word, Dancer stumbled over and gave the sword-shaped bundle to the leader.

  “In the proper hands, that should serve our cause well,” Javyk said. “Be certain this gift is not squandered,” he added, and there was no missing the warning tone.

  “We hear and we serve,” the leader said with a nod of his head. In exchange, he gave the heavy satchel to Dancer. If Rellen had to guess, he would say the thing had to weigh at least fifteen pounds.

  “As it is commanded,” Javyk responded to the cult devotion. “Test it.” He gestured to the bundle, a beneficent smile on his face.

  The leader untied and unwrapped the bundle, pulling out a longsword in an intricately patterned blue, leather sheath. The shape of the guard and pommel gave it away. The sword from the duke’s study. He drew the weapon out with a ring of fine steel, and the blade flashed in the light coming in from the doors behind him. He hefted it, feeling its weight, and then the blade of the weapon erupted into blue flames with a whuff. Fire danced along its length, like flames on water.

  The two bodyguards beside Rellen gasped in surprise. Firebrands were rare weapons indeed, although not entirely unheard of. Rellen and a gekurios—a Land Magician—had once worked with a talented smith to create one for a general they’d served under, but that was long ago.

  “I know precisely who to give this to,” the leader said, sliding the blade back into its sheath. The flames were immediately extinguished.

  “I trust your judgment,” Javyk replied. “Now, I fear I must take my leave of you.”

  “We had hoped you could stay, take sacrifice with us, but we understand.”

  “Another time, perhaps,” Javyk said politely. “Come, Dancer.”

  Dancer, whose eyes had never left the duke’s sword, turned and walked back, the satchel held firmly in his hands.

  “We’ll attend to this when we return to the carriage,” Javyk said softly. “It is lined with metal plates that should protect you. It will be a bit heavier, but it will keep you safe.”

  Dancer nodded and slipped the strap of the satchel over his shoulder.

  Suddenly, a muffled but booming voice shouted the Delver word, “Attack!”

  A half dozen crates around the warehouse exploded, sending wood and splinters in all directions. Six armed and armored Delvers, in the distinctive, heavily flanged and spiked black plate mail of their people, shouted battle-cries as they charged in.

  As Rellen jerked his falchions free, he wondered if the others knew how much trouble they were in. Aside from trade, Delvers rarely interacted with humans and the other races, and it was an exceptionally rare event when they crossed swords. Facing Delver weapons and armor was bad enough, but they were also immune to magic and generally stronger than other species. In short, they were tough little bastards to kill. Rellen had only fought a Delver once. The encounter had almost cost him his life, and he still had a scar along his thigh to prove it.

  Yes, they were in trouble, indeed… and Rellen would have to do this the hard way.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Klymrukaar

  Three of the Delvers charged straight at the Nissrans, while the other three angled toward Javyk and Dancer.

  “Protect the artifact!” Javyk screamed as he stepped back. There was no fear in his eyes, only anger. He uttered an incantation and slashed with his hand. A scythe of ruby light flashed out and passed through the nearest Delver’s throat, but the short, stocky warrior didn’t even slow down.

  Dancer seemed frozen, staring at the three roaring Delvers coming straight at him. One wielded an axe, one a sword, and the other a massive war hammer.

  To their credit, the other two bodyguards, Bodrugar and Sallintyr, leapt forward to engage the three Delvers headed for Javyk and Dancer.

  For half a heartbeat, Rellen contemplated letting the Delvers have at the Nissrans. It was unlikely the Nissrans would survive the encounter, unless they were far better fighters than the nest Rellen had faced in Calamath. It would be fun to watch, but the fact remained that he needed Javyk to lead him to the bastard behind everything. Rellen surged forward, only a half step behind.

  Bodrugar raised his buckler and took a mighty blow from the Delver’s war hammer with a clang of metal on metal. The man was huge, but the blow halted him in his tracks and staggered him sideways.

  Sallintyr engaged the Delver wielding the axe, forcing his opponent to come up short with a flurry of fast slashes that put the Delver on the defensive. The Delver with the sword raised his weapon, ready to cleave Dancer’s skull, but Rellen stepped in and blocked, catching the Delver’s blade with a crystalline ring of steel on steel. The blow vibrated up to Rellen’s shoulder, and his hand stung from the impact.

  “Get out of here,” Rellen shouted over his shoulder and shoved Dancer back with an elbow. He pushed the Delver’s blade aside several inches—not an easy thing to do—and sent a thrust angling in at the Delver’s exposed face. The Delver shifted his head to the right, stepped back, and came straight at Rellen with two quick slashes that Rellen was barely able to parry. The Delver was fast, skilled, and could put a lot of muscle behind every swing.

  Rellen found himself on the defensive.

  Another scythe of ruby light flashed out and hit the Delver in front of Rellen directly in the face.

  The Delver smiled, and as he did, Rellen noticed a familiar sigil etched into the neck ring of the Delver’s plate mail. It was a strange, demonic skull in the center, with horns rising above and below, with harsh eyes and the narrow slits of a skull-like nose. The whole thing was transfixed upon an upright, Delver blade.

  These Delver are allies of the king! Rellen thought in a panic.

  It was the symbol of the Klymrukaar. Rellen knew very little about them, save that the kings of Pelinon had maintained some sort of alliance with them for centuries. His father had mentioned them on a few occasions, remarking that he trusted them implicitly. Rellen had vague recollections of one of them showing up at the castle from time to time when he was in his teens.

  He suddenly felt very, very trapped, caught between enemies that were friends, and friends that were enemies. He hesitated for a fraction of a heartbeat. The Delver didn’t miss the opportunity. His blade flashed in again and again. It was all Rellen could do to parry each blow with his falchions, one high and one low. Even more frustrating was that the Delver was good enough to direct his attacks so any riposte or counterthrust would hit only plate mail.

  The leader of the Nissrans fought using the duke’s firebrand, and he clearly knew how to wield it. One of the other Nissrans, however, turned and raced through the wide-open doors. Another Nissran screamed out in pain and went down, impaled on a Delver blade.

  At the same time, a mighty crash of heavy metal slamming against wood and steel filled the warehouse. Bodrugar grunted as his buckler gave way, splintering into shattered wood and twisted steel bands. He staggered sideways and crashed into Rellen, who barely managed to leap back and avoid a sharp thrust that filled the air where his stomach had been a moment ago.

  Bodrugar roared out his fury as the Delver raised the hammer once again for a killing blow. The big man surged forward, grabbing the haft of the Delver’s war hammer with his wounded arm and thrust with his sword. The blade skittered off the Delver’s chest plate and slid past. The Delver clamped his arm down, pinning the blade in place.

  Sallintyr’s blade was a blur, darting left and right. He’d already drawn blood from several shallow wounds along the Delver’s hands and face, but they were far from injuries that would slow the Delver down.

  Rellen fell back even further, parrying every blow from his opponent’s dancing blade. He was setting up a counterstrike, learning the pattern and pace of his opponent’s combinations.

  Sallintyr slashed again. The Delver caught Sallintyr’s saber in the blade-catching-curve of his axe and twisted hard with powerful hands. The blade got hung up for only a moment, but it was enough. The Delver stepped in and punched Sallintyr in the crotch. Sallintyr doubled over, grunting in pain. The Delver brought the pommel of the axe up and caught Sallintyr squarely on the chin. The tall warrior’s mouth exploded with blood and teeth as his head snapped up and back. He toppled onto his back and lay motionless, his face a ruin.

  Bodrugar released his sword and punched the Delver, staggering him back. He leapt forward, tackled the Delver, and they went down in a tangle of swinging fists and pounding knees.

  Another Nissran screamed and died.

  Rellen blocked, parried, and smashed the Delver’s blade to the side. The Delver countered, but Rellen blocked again, opening up the Delver’s right-hand guard. He’d made his opening and put everything he had into a swing aimed at the Delver’s sword arm. He hoped that a blade of Baladon was harder than Delver plate mail.

  The Delver shifted sideways to get away from the blow. Rellen’s strike hit home with a ring of steel. He felt his blade bite deep. The Delver howled in pain. Rellen jerked his blade free. Blood poured down the black metal. Rellen swung his other blade. The Delver’s parry, slowed by the gash in his arm, didn’t come in time. Rellen caught him in the elbow, cutting another gash into his opponent’s flesh. He wanted to disable, but not kill. His third swing caught the flat of the Delver’s blade with a splitting ring of steel. He struck the blade from the Delver’s hands, and it clattered to the floor, sliding up against where Bodrugar and his opponent thrashed on the ground, their meaty hands wrapped around each other’s throats.

  Rellen raised a falchion, drawing the Delver’s arms up in a defensive block. Rellen drove a hard kick into the Delver’s chest. It felt like he’d kicked a tree, but the Delver was driven back, stumbled over a body, and went down.

  The six Nissrans had been whittled down to two, and they were caught in a desperate fight against the two remaining Delvers on that side. The Nissran leader, still wielding the firebrand, had resorted to panicked slashes back and forth, as he and the other Nissran backed toward the open doors and a drop-off to the water below.

  One of the Delvers shifted around, blocking their path. The Nissran leader turned to defend from two directions, and as he did, a Delver slashed his blade deep into the leader’s thigh. He screamed out, distracting the other Nissran. The other Delver stepped in and drove his blade into the Nissran’s belly. The Delver facing the leader now severed the leader’s arm at the elbow. The flames went out and the blade, along with part of the leader’s arm, tumbled to the floor. The Delver’s backswing took the leader’s head off, silencing his cries as both head and body toppled over with gruesome thuds.

  “Fall back,” Javyk shouted at the top of his lungs.

  Rellen turned to find Javyk motioning for Rellen to follow, so he did, moving backwards, with his guard up. He backed into the narrow corridor of crates that led to the door they’d come in through. Heavy boot steps echoed across the warehouse floor, just out of sight. There were two or even three Delvers coming after them, and Rellen knew he’d never be able to hold them off. His magic wouldn’t work against them directly, and they could just run through his poison gas spell and be right back on top of him. He caught sight of some thick cobwebs lining the crates, and an idea popped into his head. He needed to stop them but make it look like he’d tried to kill them while still getting Javyk to leave. The bastard might want Rellen to kill the Delvers outright if they were subdued.

  He knew what he had to do.

  Run! Xilly’s voice rang in Rellen’s thoughts. They’re coming!

  Rellen ignored her. He set a falchion on the crate beside him and grabbed a mass of cobwebs in his left hand. He uttered a quick incantation, drawing a symbol in the air with the cobwebs.

  Three Delvers came around the corner in a tight line, their weapons raised.

  Rellen uttered the last word of the spell and threw the cobwebs straight at them. The white, sticky mass streaked away, expanding quickly. It hit the center Delver and exploded outward, sending thick cords of spiderweb to entangle the Delvers as webs stuck to the walls and crates on either side. All three Delvers came to an abrupt halt and started thrashing to get free.

  Rellen grabbed a vial of the yallaho mash from his bandoleer and uttered another incantation. With the last word, he threw the vial at the floor between himself and the trapped Delvers. He could have thrown it at their feet, but he didn’t want them to die of the poison, either.

  He glanced over his shoulder as the poison gas cloud started expanding.

  “Run!” he shouted at Javyk, who was standing in the doorway. “The poison will expand and kill us all!”

  Javyk disappeared through the doorway. Rellen, grabbed his falchion from the crate, turned, and ran. He reached the doorway, and at the last moment, he stopped. Turning, he gave the Delvers a salute.