Blood of the Underworld(55)

“Forgive me,” he said. “I only fear for the people I must protect.”

“I understand,” Tarlak said. “Whatever peace of mind this gives you, just know we’ll be out there tonight, doing what we can. Just endure, and mitigate this. When Haern’s fine and well, he’ll come storming into the underworld like a demonspawn of the Abyss, making every one of them cowardly buggers regret celebrating the Watcher’s ‘death’.”

Antonil nodded, giving the wizard a half-smile.

“You’re a good man, Tarlak,” he said. “I’ll do what I can to make sure the King’s treasury pays you well.”

“Thought never crossed my mind,” Tarlak said, giving him a wink. “Good luck, and pray to Ashhur we escape this madness unscathed.”

Antonil bowed low, then stepped out. As the door shut behind him, he saw a strange woman sitting cross-legged just off the path. Her dress was plain, simple, but it looked poorly fitted, as if never worn by her before. She had olive skin and hair cut short. Two daggers twirled in her hands.

“Does he live?” she asked him.

Antonil’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword.

“Who?” he asked.

The woman stared at him, her head tilted to one side.

“Haern,” she said at last. “I’m a friend.”

Knowing his name had to mean something, Antonil decided, though he still kept his hand on the hilt.

“He’s alive but hurt,” he said. “I don’t know how long until he recovers.”

The woman nodded, stood. Her daggers slipped into her sash.

“I will try to quell the rumors,” she said. “But it will not matter. They want to believe he’s dead, even if for only a night. Blood will spill when the sun sets, Guard Captain. Do what you must to make it of the underworld, and not the innocent.”

Lazily she stood and began walking toward the city. Antonil waited, not wanting to be near her as he traveled. Something about her wasn’t quite right...

Shaking his head, he banished the thoughts and headed down the path, seeing no sign of her. Upon reaching the gates of Veldaren, he saluted the guards and denied their offer of an escort. Antonil was not yet ready to return to the castle. Instead, he hurried to Victor’s tavern, where he was allowed entrance with hardly a glance over. Inside, Victor sat at a table, a map of Veldaren unrolled before him. Sef sat beside him, pointing at various districts and muttering. Upon Antonil’s entrance, they both stood.

“Forgive my intrusion,” Antonil said. “I’m sure you’ve heard the talk of the day.”

“We have,” said Victor.

“I hate to do this, but my guards will not be enough. I don’t know what coin I can guarantee, but...”

“Save your words,” Victor said, sitting back down at the table. “My men will be out there, and I with them. We’ll do everything we can to save this city. You won’t be doing this alone.”

“Thank you,” Antonil said, feeling a brief glimmer of hope. Between the Eschaton, the city guard, and now Victor’s men, they just might endure. “I am relieved to hear it.”

“You shouldn’t have doubted in the first place,” Victor said. “Even if you never asked, I’d still be out there. You should know that by now, Antonil. I’m here for you. For all of the city. By my life or death, we will see brighter days.”

Antonil bowed low, convinced of the man’s sincerity and honored by it.

“The Watcher is alive,” he said before leaving. “We only need to buy him time.”

“That’s good,” Victor said. “I feared his death would one day tear down everything, but I thought it many years in the distance. Shame on him for giving us such a scare. I’ll have harsh words for him the next time we meet. I daresay I might even yell and call him selfish for nearly dying on us so early.”

The lord grinned, and Antonil grinned back.

“Protect the peace,” he said.

“You, as well.”

Antonil left, and, finally ready, he went to the castle to endure his King’s frightened rants and calls to action.



Tarlak adjusted his hat, smoothed out his robes, and made sure his bag of spell components was fully stocked in case he needed some of his trickier spells. Taking in a deep breath, he let it out, and then stepped into Haern’s room. Delysia still sat at the edge of his bed, her red hair a rumpled mess. She saw him, straightened up.

“Are you leaving?” she asked.

“Sun’s almost set. The party should start soon enough.”

His sister nodded.

“I’ll get ready,” she said.

Tarlak took another deep breath. This was the conversation he’d been dreading.