Obsidian Ridge (25 page)

“Alchemist’s fire,” she whispered, a smile spreading across her face.

Slipping out of the cracked stone, she stayed close to the wall and out of sight. Quinn was being held by the two burly men who had knocked him out. The horned man he’d fought in the water cavern was taunting him. The princess was on the ground by his feet, and everyone else was busy working the giant centipedes.

“Well, I guess you’ve thought of everything then,” said Quinn.

“Not everything,” whispered Evelyne. She hurled both orbs of alchemist’s fire at the base of the nearest vat.

The courtyard erupted as the glass broke and the substance inside caught flame. It bubbled and popped, spitting bits of sizzling fire in every direction like an angry adolescent hydra.

“Whoa,” said Evelyne. “This should be fun.”

+++++

“I’m on fire! I’m on fire!” Pello Tasca ran backward from the ruined Elixir still, his clothes engulfed in flames. His arms flailed, trying to scrape the sticky, burning substance from his exposed flesh.

“Brother!” Jallal bolted across the courtyard to Pello’s side. Knocking him to the ground, he rolled him in the dirt and beat at the flames with his hands.

Shouts and confusion filled the courtyard as the other guards came running to help. The Elixir had ignited and was slowly seeping toward the second still, a running river of flame.

Taking advantage of the moment, Quinn kicked his legs in the air and flipped over backward, breaking the grip of the two men. They went for their swords, but Quinn was quicker.

“That’s for the club in the face,” he said, punching the first guard square in the jaw.

The man reeled back from the blow. Quinn followed with a second shot to the gut, which knocked the wind from the guard’s lungs and forced him to double over. Spinning, Quinn shifted his weight and kicked the second guard in the groin, dropping him to his knees.

“I’ll take that.” Quinn pulled the first guard’s long sword from its sheath.

With two quick motions, he finished off both men.

In the center of the carved-stone mansion, the second Elixir distillery exploded, sending another rain of sticky fire out over the underworld guards. Pello, covered in a shroud of orange and yellow light, still screamed and kicked the ground.

One of the guards noticed Quinn through the confusion and shouted, “They’re escaping!”

Dropping to his knees, Quinn lodged the tip of his sword in the bonds on Mariko’s wrists and ankles. He yanked, and the ropes fell away. Her hands free, Mariko pulled the gag off of her mouth.

“I guess this isn’t the time for a warm reunion,” she said, lifting herself off the ground.

Quinn tossed her his sword, retrieving another from the second fallen guard. “Not quite.”

That was all they had time for as the rush of the mob came on.

Quinn and Mariko worked back to back, circling around and beating back advances. They moved as one, never having fought together before but somehow reading each other’s movements. They swirled, swords clanging, metal clashing, the flesh of their enemies cut to ribbons.

They made quick work of the first half-dozen guards before the third and final Elixir still erupted. Only four guards remained on their feet. Jallal bent over the now-motionless frame of his brother. Their entire operation was up in smoke.

Standing, Jallal pulled his sword and came right at Quinn. “You killed me once, and now you’ve killed my brother.” He swung wildly as he came on, his words an unearthly growl. “It’s your turn to die.”

Jallal’s guards scattered, disappearing into the open doorways-of the mansion as he pressed the attack. Gone was his calculating, controlled demeanor, replaced by the chaotic machinations of a desperate man, bent on revenge.

“Watch you bleed! Cut you to pieces! Get my brother back!” shouted Jallal, his eyes shifting madly, burning with hatred.

Quinn, still in his smallclothes, dodged each swing, giving ground and working his way into the courtyard. Flames burned at his back and he circled, giving the wild man in front of him plenty of room.

Princess Mariko slipped in behind Jallal, flanking him.

“Kill you… both!” muttered Jallal, his face turning red. He swung his blade in huge, careless arcs, turning first toward Quinn then back toward Mariko. He grunted and growled, putting everything he had into each swing.

His blade closed on Mariko, and she had to stutter step to get back in time. Quinn dived into the gap, but the demon-man was quick, and he turned, swinging back. His exotic blade rang as it sliced the tip from Quinn’s long sword.

“I’m going to take you apart, little by little, and I’m going to enjoy every single slice.” Jallal lunged at Quinn.

A loud crack and thud echoed off the stone walls, sounding like a pumpkin being cleaved in two. Jallal stopped his attack. His hairy, muscular arms dropped to his side, and he stood up rail straight. A heartbeat later, he fell to the ground, a dagger buried to the hilt in the center of his forehead—right between his horns.

“Both brothers dead,” said Evelyne, appearing from the shadows. “That’ll teach you to not pay your debts.” She crossed the courtyard to retrieve her dagger from Jallal Tasca’s skull, a smug look on her face. “All that’s left is to get out of here.”

Mariko spun on the newcomer, raising her sword. “Drop it!” she warned. Her eyes scanned the courtyard, searching for any of the other guards.

Evelyne put her hand on her hip, examining Mariko but unfazed by the princess’s aggressive stance. “I see now why you’re here, Quinn.” She gave him a devilish smirk. “I’d risk my life for her too.”

Mariko partially lowered her blade, still on guard. “You know this woman?”

Quinn nodded, lifting his hand to stay her blade. “It’s all right, Mariko. This is Evelyne. She… lives here. She helped me find you.”

Evelyne offered her hand to Mariko, stepping in much closer. “A pleasure to meet you, Princess.”

Reluctantly, Mariko held out her hand. Evelyne bent down and kissed it, caressing the princess’s palm with her fingers.

Mariko looked at Quinn, but he just shrugged.

With a small amount of effort, the princess managed to pull back her hand, and she took a step away from Evelyne. “Very well. Then let’s get out of here.”

Quinn held out his arms, indicating his state of near nakedness. “Not without my things,” he replied.

Evelyne pointed to one of the open windows looking out onto the courtyard, not taking her eyes off the princess. “It’s in there. I saw the fat one stash it behind the stone facing.”

Quinn looked at Mariko, waiting to see her reaction. The princess crossed her arms over her chest then nodded. Hurrying to where Evelyne pointed, Quinn stepped through an open stone doorway. True to her word, there, on top of a crate of Elixir, were his armor, robes, and gauntlets. Quickly dressing, he went back out to the princess and Evelyne. The two women stood in silence, looking each other over— Evelyne with an air of satisfied pleasure, Mariko with a bit of confusion.

As if the dangers of the Cellar weren’t enough, the awkward situation between the two women gave Quinn even more reason to leave this place behind. Flipping over the band on the back of his belt, he retrieved the colorful disk that would grant them passage out of the Cellar. Placing it on the floor, he spun it as he had the first time, almost two days ago. The disk dissolved into a thousand tiny mores of light, consumed by the process, and a shimmering portal appeared.

“Come, you two,” he said. “It’s time to go.” Mariko put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder as he continued dressing.

“Is it true?” she asked. “What you said to Jallal?”

“Is what true?” Quinn had finished donning his soft leather armor and was just securing his cloak.

“That there is a black citadel floating over Llorbauth, and that someone inside it is demanding me as a sacrifice?”

Quinn stopped in the middle of tying a knot. “Yes.”

“Is that why you came for me? So my father could trade me to save the kingdom?”

Quinn glanced over at the glowing magical portal, the words of the king’s warning running through his head. It will

not last very long. If you activate it and do not use it, you will be lost, trapped inside the Cellar.

“We must go,” he said, urging Mariko toward the portal. “We can have this conversation later.”.

“Yeah, have your fight somewhere else,” said Evelyne as she passed the two. “This will get me out of here?” She pointed at the portal.

“As promised,” said Quinn.

“You’re a man of your word.” Evelyne shook her head. “Not many of those down here.” Then she stepped through the swirling light and disappeared.

Mariko crossed her arms, clearly not happy. “I’m not finished with this,” she said, then she too stepped through the portal.

Quinn let out a sigh. “No,” he said, finally securing his cloak. “I’m sure you’re not.”

Picking up his gauntlet, he took his turn, leaving behind the Cellar and its inhabitants forever.

+++++

The glowing portal grew smaller with every passing moment. What had once been a large oval, big enough to fit a paladin atop his horse, was now not much larger than a young child.

From his prone position in the middle of the courtyard, Jallal Tasca rose to his knees. The hole in his forehead where Evelyne’s dagger had punched through was slowly closing.

Touching the wound with his fingers, Jallal’s lips curled back into a fanged smile. He let out a chuckle that grew into a deep belly laugh, filling the courtyard with the jubilant sounds of an evil man.

Getting to his feet, he crossed the open space, his hooves crunching dirt and stone. His exotic blade glowed otherworldly, bathed in the magical light of the portal and the fires of the burning Elixir.

After his first death, he had been reborn, returned to life with new strength and desire. This second death had given him his freedom. He no longer had obligations or obstacles-only wants and needs. Right now, what Jallal Tasca wanted, what he needed, was to get revenge on the Claw.

Ducking his head, he slipped through the opening, out of the Cellar and back to Erlkazar.

+

The Matron stepped from her private chamber and descended the steps into the meeting room.

The seats around the heavy wooden table were full. All the underworld’s players were here. She knew what they wanted, and she hated them for it. Weak, impatient, short sighted fools-—all of them. Not one had vision. Not one could see beyond the end of the day.

How was she supposed to take charge of the entire kingdom if her cohorts couldn’t resist reacting like children to every crisis? How could she plot any long-term progress if they were all content with petty theft and minor smuggling?

Someone had to think about the future, about the underworld’s relationship with the throne. There was coin to be made, lots of it, if only she could complete her alliance with the king. Weaken him, put King Korox in their debt, make him afraid—and then everything they could ever want would be theirs.

How could they not see it? How could they not understand her taking advantage of this situation? The underworld had his daughter. The kingdom was under the threat of the Obsidian Ridge. The king needed them. They held all the cards, yet these fools wanted to quit the game. They wanted to turn over the princess and be done with it.

How could they call themselves criminals when they had no nerve?

“Matron,” said the woman in the spider-silk dress, “the reason we have called this meeting-—”

“I know what it is you want,” she spat. “What I don’t know is how all of you can be so foolish.”

“It is you who is foolish!” shouted Kleegor from his chair halfway down the middle of the table. The half-ore snorted as he spoke. “You are putting our businesses in danger and risking everything we have built. It is within your power to fix this situation, but you refuse.”

“Yes, I do refuse,” said the Matron. “This situation, as you call it, has given us the opportunity to solidify our power in this kingdom for the foreseeable future. Yet you would rather suffer the indignation of being bound by King Korox’s unjust laws, milking out what little you can until it becomes too difficult for you to continue.”

She looked around. “What is it you plan to do when all of this is gone? What is it you will do when the Magistrates and the Claw have torn down the docks and made it impossible for any of us to do business?”

“That will never happen,” said the spider woman.

“Yes, it will,” replied the Matron. “And it will happen sooner than you think. That is why we must stay the course. We must use the arrival of the Obsidian Ridge to our advantage. We can form an alliance with the king, put him in our pocket, make him a partner to our crimes.”

She smiled. “Then for as long as he lives, we will have free reign of Erlkazar. We will control the laws and the tariffs and the distribution of wealth. We will have everything we have ever wanted.”

The Matron leaned on the table, her voice growing serious. “We can give the king everything he wants, and he is willing to give that to us as well. But not if we turn his daughter over. Not if we do not ally with him and bring our mages to his convocation. If we give up now, if we simply turn the princess

over to this Xeries, then we have gained nothing.”

The heavy steel doors complained as they opened.

The Matron was already in a foul mood, and this unexpected interruption was not helping.

Into the chamber came one of Jallal Tasca’s guards, escorted by four of the Matron’s own armed soldiers. The woman looked as if she’d just been dragged through a bonfire. Dozens of tiny burn marks covered her clothing, and ash and blood smeared her face.

She bowed as she entered, staying on the top step.

“Matron, please forgive the intrusion, but I have grave news.”

“You may speak.”

“It’s the Claw, Matron. He’s killed the Tascas and liberated Princess Mariko from the Cellar.” „

The room exploded in hushed mutterings and angry accusations.

“You see!” shouted Kleegor. “You were playing with fire, and now we are all going to burn.”