Obsidian Ridge

Chapter Eight

The long journey back to Llorbauth from Duhlnarim was finally over. It had been early morning when the Claw left Klarsamryn, but he returned in total darkness.

Though inconveniently timed, the information he'd retrieved from Captain Beetlestone would be of great use in his fight against the Elixir trade. But right now, the king's assassin was preoccupied with the gigantic floating volcano perched over Llorbauth and the developing plot against the king's life.

A row of low hedges had been planted just outside the southern edge of the palace. The groundskeeper, in her infinite wisdom, had placed them several strides away from the building, so they had room to grow and mature. After almost ten years, the hedges were still considered young. Though they were not very tall, they were quite full, and the space between them and the palace gave the Claw easy, unobserved access to and from the courtyard where he nightly met the princess.

Tonight was just like most other nights. The outer buildings that surrounded their rendezvous were shut up tight. The spring air was warm, and the new blossoms on the trees filled the courtyard with their sweet fragrance-a romantic place for a late night meeting.

Coming around the corner, the Claw passed the tall statue of Mariko's mother, the queen. She was posed with an open book in her hands, looking down at the pages. Every time he came into the courtyard, the Claw couldn't help but think that she was watching him. He wondered sometimes whether or not she would approve of his rendezvous with the princess.

Slipping past the statue, he entered the courtyard and made his way to their meeting spot near the center. He was quite late, but despite his tardiness, he was the first to arrive. That was unusual but not unheard of. Especially considering the arrival of the black fortress.

Still, something wasn't right. And after waiting in the courtyard for some time, he started to get concerned. The sun would be coming up soon, and with every passing moment, the chances of meeting the princess were growing smaller.

The Claw's long day had become even longer. As he slipped out the way he had come, he glanced up at the stone carving of the queen.

"I'll find her," he said.

Then he headed down the thinly paved road toward the docks-the stomping grounds of Llorbauth's underworld.

+++++

The shadows near the Obsidian Ridge seemed unnaturally dark. Even in the dead of night, the looming citadel cast a pall over the homes and lives of everyone in Llorbauth.

Though he was still quite a ways away, traversing the road from the palace to the docks was the closest the Claw had been to the hulking mountain. More than simple blackness, or even the foreboding sense of unease that it gave off, there was power here. Great power. He couldn't be certain, but he could have sworn he heard a high-pitched humming, as if the entire citadel were vibrating, pushing the air around it.

Moving cautiously through the trees and brush along the side of the road, the king's assassin froze in his tracks.

He heard voices carrying on the wind. At least two, maybe more. He stopped to listen. They were gruff and deep, and it sounded as if they were just up ahead.

Slipping quietly through the brush, he approached what appeared to be two men. Both on horseback, they sat in their saddles, looking this way and that in the middle of a tight curve on the main road.

"They better get here soon," said one. "I'm not all that happy about waiting for our Elixir in the shadow of that… thing."

"Nor am I," replied the other.

Moving in a little closer, the Claw crouched in the heavy brush only a few steps away. From this part of the road, neither the palace nor the entrance to the docks were visible- the ideal location for an illicit rendezvous.

"Do you hear that?" asked one of the men.

The Claw didn't move. His heart raced. He'd been preoccupied with the Obsidian Ridge. Had he given himself away?

"I heard nothing," said the other.

"No, listen," insisted the first. "Coming from the docks."

The sound of horses drifted in off the water and mingled with the breeze rustling the leaves. Then a coach came into view. A driver and a guard sat up front, side by side on a single wooden bench. Both jingled with chain mail.

The carriage had two compartments, a traditional one right behind the driver, and another attached to the top for more important passengers. The upper box had curtains across its windows. The Claw recognized the coach. It had been custom made, and there was only one like it in the kingdom.

The man inside was one of the most notorious wizards-for-hire in all of Erlkazar. He had cashed in on the Elixir trade, traveling from town to town, selling bottled potions to the highest bidder. But unlike many of the cheats and swindlers, this man sold the real deal.

His potions were magical all right-dark magic. Those who swallowed the Elixir would find themselves transported to another time and place. They would have their euphoric trance, but often they never came out of it. Those who did come out became hopelessly addicted, needing to get more and more.

The coach reached the curve in the road and slowed as it reached the two men on horseback. Leaping from his crouch out of the trees the Claw somersaulted onto the dirt road in front of the carriage. Two quick flips of his wrist severed the leather straps holding the horses' halters to the shafts. Startled by the sudden appearance of a masked, bladed figure, the horses immediately bolted, galloping down the road tethered together but free of their wheeled burden.

"What in the-" shouted one guard.

"We're under attack!" hollered the other.

No longer attached to the horses, the coach came to a rolling stop. The guard and driver jumped down, pulling their swords with a practiced flair.

"Surrender." The Claw got to his feet, his bladed gauntlets poised at his sides. "Or I'll be forced to kill you."

"I'd give you the same option," said the coach driver, "but it's too late for you. Whoever you are, you've chosen the wrong coach to rob."

The doors swung open and two more men, each with a pair of short swords, stepped out. Then the men on horseback rode around the carriage and took up positions behind the Claw, each pointing a loaded crossbow at him as they stopped.

"This is your last warning," said the king's assassin. "Drop your weapons and turn over your cargo. It's your only chance to live."

The driver chuckled. "You hear him, boys? We got him surrounded and outnumbered six to one, and he's the one giving us orders." The other guards didn't laugh.

The driver lunged, stabbing to his left then striking to his right. The attack forced the Claw back.

The Claw dropped to the ground and somersaulted backward. Curled into a ball, he heard the tell-tale twang of crossbows discharging, one right after the other. The first bolt thudded harmlessly into the ground in front of the driver, right where the Claw had been standing. The second, however, hit him square in the ribs, knocking the wind from his chest and sending him spinning sideways.

Getting to one knee, the Claw looked down at himself. There was no blood, no bolt sticking out of his skin. His whole left side throbbed in pain, and it hurt to breathe. Scanning the ground, he saw why-they were firing square-tipped bolts-wide, flat heads used to dent and ruin heavy armor, not pierce. These men were prepared to fight a unit of soldiers in plate mail. Instead they were fighting him, and they had just crushed one of his ribs.

They didn't give him much time to recover. Three men came at him at once, their swords darting from different directions. The Claw barely had time to bash them aside and skitter back. Getting to his feet, he favored his hurt ribs, trying to keep his left arm close to his body.

The driver and the other three swordsmen were closing in. The men on horseback were cranking their crossbows, getting ready for another volley. He suspected they wouldn't use the same bolts, and next time he wouldn't be as lucky.

The Claw took one more step back then launched himself into the oncoming guards. The first man slashed at him with his short swords. Catching one between both gauntlets, he twisted, breaking the sword in half. The other blade slipped harmlessly past as the guard lost his balance, tripping and falling to one knee.

The Claw growled at the sharp burning in his own side. It hurt, but the pain faded as he concentrated on the fight in front of him. Turning, he slit the guard's throat in a single swipe, dropping the man lifeless to the ground.

Two other men came at him, one from each side. Dropping into a crouch, he put all of his weight on his left leg, sweeping his right out. The move caught both men behind their knees. The guards tumbled, landing hard on their backs, spread eagle on the ground.

Slashing just below the cuff of their chain mail tunics, he gutted them both, spilling their innards-leaving them alive but helpless as he moved on to the next guard.

Darting underneath the first horse, the Claw slit the strap, and the saddle slipped off sideways. The rider grabbed at the reins, pulling to hold himself up, but it was no use. His feet tangled in the stirrups, and the man fell from his mount. The bolt he had been loading into his crossbow dropped from his hands, landing harmlessly on the dirt road.

The horse, unnerved at losing its rider, pranced and whinnied. The rider still held the reins, yanking the poor beast's face to the left. Skittering sideways, the mount stepped down on top of its fallen rider-right on his head, smashing it like a pumpkin.

The Claw rolled away, out from underneath the frantic horse. Getting to his feet, he watched as it reared back then took off at a run, dragging the limp body of its tangled rider with it down the road.

The other rider, fumbling with his crossbow, gave up on the endeavor, tossing it away and pulling his sword. He kicked his heels in and galloped toward the Claw at full speed. Twisting away from the attack, the Claw leaped into the air. Grabbing hold of the rider's shoulder, he pulled himself up onto the back of the horse. The blades of his gauntlet bit deep into the man's flesh, and the guard curled into a ball, dropping his sword and falling sideways off the horse.

Grabbing hold of the reins, the Claw climbed into the saddle and turned the mount around to face the carriage. A pair of eyes peered out of the upper compartment for a flash, then the curtains over the window were jerked shut. Of the guards, only the driver remained standing. He held his blade out before him, but it shook in his grip as he surveyed the carnage on the ground.

The Claw eased the horse forward, and the driver raised his hands in the air.

"I surrender."

"Drop your sword," said the Claw.

The driver nodded nervously and did as he was told.

"Now leave," said the Claw.

"L-leave?"

"Go back to the docks." The Claw rode up beside the driver, looking down at him through the dark holes in his mask. "And tell everyone there about what happened to you today. You tell them that the Elixir trade is finished in Erlkazar."

"Uh… uh, y-yes," stammered the driver. "Certainly. As you command."

"Go now. Before I change my mind."

The man turned and ran back toward the water and the seedy side of Llorbauth.

The Claw climbed off the horse and approached the carriage. The doors on the flying coach were still closed, and the curtains were pulled tight against the windows.

"In the name of the King Korox Morkann, I command you to exit the carriage."

Nothing moved.

The Claw cleared his throat. "You are to be taken to Llorbauth, where you will be tried for trafficking in black magic."

Still nothing.

"You saw what happened to your guards when they resisted. This is your last warning. Come out and surrender, or I will take you by force."

The latch clicked, but the door stayed shut for a long moment. Then, slowly, it creaked as it opened. It was dark inside with the curtains pulled tight, and though the door was open, the passenger didn't immediately appear.

The Claw was struck cold by a terrible thought. "Invisible," he muttered.

Leaping up onto the edge of the carriage, he reached his arm inside the coach, swiping around blindly. Nothing. Nothing.

Then his blades caught, and an earsplitting screech filled the car.

"Damn, damn, damn!" shouted a voice. "I'm cut! I'm bleeding!"

Then the air crackled, and the hair on the back of the Claw's neck stood on end. A bolt of blue-white energy shot out of the coach. The Claw barely had time to throw himself backward as the magical lightning whizzed past him and impacted the road. Rocks and dirt flew everywhere, covering the bodies of the fallen guards.

The Claw landed flat on his back, the front of his cloak singed. Jumping to his feet, he closed on the carriage, not stopping to brush the dirt from his chest. A hand shot out of the open door, pointing a wand at him with its shaky fist.

Not waiting for another blast, the Claw swung down with his right gauntlet, catching the wizard's hand under its razor-sharp blades and raking four deep gashes along his forearm. The man squealed like a stuck pig and dropped his wand as he clutched his bleeding arm.

Grabbing the wizard by the collar of his robe, the Claw dragged him out of the passenger compartment and dumped him onto the ground in front of the carriage.

The man was thin and rather sickly looking-not exactly as the Claw had imagined him. He wore fine, red velvet robes and sported a well-waxed moustache on the front of his narrow face. Lying on the ground, he pressed his robes against the pumping wounds, moaning.

"Please," he said, sobbing and rocking side to side. "I've done nothing. You have the wrong man."

The doors to the lower compartment were still wide open. The inside was full, stacked to the ceiling with sealed crates. Smashing his fist through the wooden top of the first crate, the Claw pulled out a flask of the brownish Elixir.

"So," he said, holding up the proof. "You're not involved in the Elixir trade?"

"That's not what it looks like." The wizard held up his one good hand. "They're just… just healing potions."

The Claw popped open the cork on the flask. "Really? Healing potions?" He looked down at the gushing wounds on the man's right arm. "Looks like you need one now."

Grabbing the wizard by the back of the head, he forced the open bottle into his mouth. "Drink."

The scrawny man struggled against the bigger man's grasp, twisting, spitting, and gasping for air. The Claw gripped a handful of hair and tilted his head back, forcing the flask deeper into his mouth. The thick brownish liquid spilled out the sides of his mouth and drizzled down his cheeks. But despite his attempts to keep it out, the wizard eventually swallowed several large gulps.

The Claw tossed away the empty bottle and shoved the peddler back onto the ground. Scrambling backward away from his attacker, the wizard gagged and coughed, gasping for air.

"Are you-" The wizard convulsed and vomited all over himself-"crazy? You almost killed… almost…" His head began to loll back and forth on his shoulders. His eyes grew dim, closing part way. "Almost… almost killed… killed… me." Slipping backward on the viscous liquid, the wizard tried to hold himself up. He tried to stand, but only got part way to sitting, a confused look on his face.

The Claw lifted the wizard by the front of his robes. Placing his hand on the scrawny man's forehead, he pried his eyelid up with his thumb. The wizard's pupils were completely black, fully dilated, and his eyes were darting back and forth.

The Claw looked down the road, where the trees blocked the view to the docks beyond. The princess could take care of herself. Right now, duty called.

Lifting the wizard off of his feet, the Claw flopped the man's incapacitated body over the saddle on one of the horses. He ripped a strip of the man's robe off and tied a bandage around his arm. He pulled a tinderbox from under his cape, lit a piece of parchment, and tossed it inside the open door of the carriage. The dry wood of the Elixir crates ignited, and soon the flames reached out to wrap the rest of the carriage in their embrace.

The Claw grabbed hold of the reins and lifted himself onto the horse. Adjusting the limp body of the wizard on the saddle behind him, he took one look back. "Healing potions, huh?"

The coach erupted in flame as the Elixir caught fire.