Princess Mariko and continue his immortal life. But until then, while his wife was between life and unlife, he would age, just like all the rest of humanity. He would bleed, just like the rest of humanity.
Xeries hated this time, this waiting while he was mortal again. He disliked the vulnerability.
A vision came to him as he finished lifting his wife from the floor. Connected to his creatures through telepathy, Xeries watched his sentries torn to shreds by the man who had accompanied the princess into the citadel.
'This was not part of the arrangement.' He glared at Mariko. 'Who is this disease you have introduced to my home? Who is this man that stalks my halls?'
Mafiko sat on the floor, the mimmio cradled in her lap.
'He's just one of the king's soldiers.' She smiled. 'They're all just like him.'
Xeries growled. 'I told your king there would be consequences, yet he has defied me.' Reaching into a pocket on his robes, he pulled out a small pile of dried, brittle bones. Dropping them on the floor, he spoke the words to a spell, one he had not used often, but he had committed it to memory all the same.
'What are you doing?' asked Mariko through her furry translator.
'I am delivering on my threat,' said Xeries, his echoing voice giving away his glee. 'I'm drying the land. Turning your home into a desert.'
He smiled big, a mouth full of crooked teeth showing. 'Let's see your father defy me now.'
Xeries left the room, waving the doors closed behind him. He crossed to the dais and sat down in his throne. It felt empty here without a wife. It had been a long time since he had replaced one.
This last one had been very strong, had lasted a long time. He would remember her fondly. Lifting a goblet from the table, he brought the wine to his lips and took a drink. Yes, he would remember her fondly.
In another part of the Obsidian Ridge, Quinn looked down from the ceiling on a third patrol of sentries. They were traveling in groups of six now, but that didn't matter. They were all about to die.
Gathering his feet under him, he readied himself to pounce-teach them what it meant to feel helpless and terrified in their own home. He wanted Xeries to know that he was coming for him, wanted the man who had taken his love and terrorized his home to suffer for what he had done.
Silently dropping to the ground, he went to work on the sentries. The first one squealed in fright as Quinn's blades cut into it. The others had very little time to react.
When he had finished, he climbed back up into the cracked passage and moved on, leaving the remains on the floor as a warning to Xeries.
This was no longer about justice or even saving Erlkazar. It had become something more-this was revenge.
Chapter Thirty-one
Kleegor handed another crate full of Elixir to Talish and walked down to the end of the dock.
'Good to see you back up and around,' said Talish. Kleegor nodded.
'I take it you don't want to talk about it.' The half-orc grunted.
'Well, I told you not to throw it in her face. I told you I agreed with you, but you should've just-' Suddenly, the sky began to roil.
'Whoa, will you look at that.' Talish pointed over Kleegor's shoulder.
The half-ore nearly dropped his crate of Elixir.
Huge gray clouds swept in from the east over Shalane Lake and the west over the Snowflake Mountains. The wind picked up, and the clouds coalesced over Llorbauth and the Obsidian Ridge. They swirled together, forming one massive, turning storm that blocked out the mid-morning sun.
The storm moved faster and faster, and its center stretched but like a long finger-a funnel of twisting air reaching for the ground. Where it touched, high up on the wall of the valley, the ground simply dried up. The grass, flowers, and trees instantly turned brown, shriveled, and died.
Bolts of lightning shot from the clouds. Where they hit, the dirt turned to sand, the stone crumbled and cracked, the puddles and streams evaporated. A tremendous clap of thunder shook the dock under Kleegor's feet.
'What's happening?' Talish had his hands pressed against the side of his head, shaking it in amazement.
'I'll tell you what's going on,' said a voice. 'The king has betrayed us.'
Kleegor looked down from the building storm into the face of the Matron.
'My lady,' said the half-orc, falling to his knees and dropping his head to the splinter-torn wharf.
The Matron approached the half-ore and the dark-skinned man.
'On your feet, Kleegor. You do not need to bow to me.'
He did as he was told, getting back to his feet.
The Matron put her finger under his chin, lifting his eyes to meet hers. 'I have come here, Kleegor, to give you my apology.'
'I do not understand.'
'You were right.' The matron waved her arm back at the slowly growing storm as it continued to devour Llorbauth, turning the fertile land of the valley into little more than a desert. 'We never should have trusted the king to do the right thing. His blind affection and shortsightedness may end up being our undoing. I should have listened to you, and now we have to make it tight.'
The half-ore stood up straight. He puffed his chest out, feeling some of his previous courage returning.
'And how do we do that?'
'The king's betrayal has brought this destruction upon us. I had hoped to avoid it, but he leaves us little choice.' She turned to look one more time at the valley being transformed into a barren wasteland. 'King Korox must die. The palace must fall. Prepare your assassins, Kleegor. We take Llorbauth by force.'
The walls hummed. The floor moved, and a low buzz filled the air, washing out the sounds of footsteps and doors opening.
Slipping out of the wall, Quinn perched himself behind a jagged chunk of obsidian. Settling in, he melted into the blackness, blending in and disappearing from view.
Below him, Xeries sat, drinking from a goblet. The deformed arch magus slumped in his throne-or at least the way his bulbous spine curved over on itself made him look as if he were slumping.
There was no sign of Mariko or Evelyne. But that didn't matter right now. Quinn would find them-all in good time.
For now, the only thing he wanted was a clear shot at the ruler of the Obsidian Ridge. «
Quietly, he lowered himself to the next perch, then the next. The buzzing coveted his tracks, and he reached the floor very quickly. Staying close to the wall, he circled. When he was fully behind the throne, he approached, slowly, carefully, until he was crouched right behind Xeries.
He paused to relish this moment, something Quinn had never done before. Up until now, killing in the name of Erlkazar was something he had done out of loyalty and honor. It was his job, and one that he took no great pleasure in.
But he was going to enjoy this.
Lifting his left hand high in the air, he swung with all of his might.
He shouted-uncontrolled rage spilling out as he came down on Xeries's twisted body.
His blades slipped through the arch magus's hunched back, viciously slashing off a huge hunk of flesh. Blood and pus shot from the wound, and Quinn's gauntlet carried on, slamming into the throne. So fueled by anger and hate was this attack that his blades buried themselves in the thick obsidian and plowed right on through.
The throne shook like it had been hit by a sledgehammer.
Chips of stone rattled to the floor, mixed with bits of flesh and trails of blood.
Xeries screamed, his yowls of pain echoing again in the confined chamber. The arch magus rolled forward and turned to face his attacker.
