The Howling Delve

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When Kall emerged from the Bladesmile estate and saw the black cloud hanging in the sky above the Gold Ward, he didn’t realize it was alive. He’d been on guard for a Shadow Thief ambush, but the portal room, both in the Delve and the estate, was deserted, the gates active and waiting. He’d been certain it was a trap, but there was no sign of the Shadow Thieves or Varan.

When the black cloud shattered, the birds scattered throughout the city, some dropping from the sky impaled with arrows, others on fire, reeling wildly in the air like dying phoenixes. Kall knew at once where they’d come from.

“Take Garavin to Waukeen’s temple,” he told Morgan and Talal. The dwarf still walked in a haze, his strength depleted. Kall didn’t know how long it would take for him to recover from his experience. “Meisha, Dantane. Come with me.” He offered no other explanation; he simply ran toward his home.

He was almost to the line of dark hedgerows that led up to the main entrance when Meisha and Dantane caught up. With surprising strength, the Harper yanked him down behind the hedge while shadows moved in front of the burning house.

Kall grabbed her by the front of her jerkin, both in fury and to steady himself. “If you’re not going to help me,” he snarled, “get out of my way!”

Meisha glared at him. “Clearly you’ve forgotten whom you’re speaking to,” she said, nodding to the house. “They have Varan. I will merrily tear your home apart to find him if it pleases you, but I would rather not die until Balram is writhing safely in the deepest Hells.” She leaned close. “I have held myself in check; now you will do the same. Remember your promise, Kall.”

They held each other’s gaze, and then, jarringly, Kall’s face split in a grin. “Fine—tear the place apart. But clear a path for me first. Remember the garden?”

The guards stationed at the double front doors were shocked when they saw Balram and his two companions re-enter the hall, bleeding from scores of scratches and bites. At the same time, light—bright as a bonfire blaze—filled the vertical windows aside the front doors.

“What was that?” asked Balram, one hand covering his bleeding ear.

Elsis ran to the window. “The fire must have spread faster than we anticipated,” he said. “The hedgerows are ablaze.”

“What?”

The guard pointed to the twin lines of fire burning up to the carriageway.

“Bloody gods,” Elsis murmured, flinging one of the doors open to get a better view. “What is that?”

He saw a man striding up the path. His cloak was torn apart, his armor soiled with blood, and his hair and skin were scorched by fire. Yet he walked as if the fire itself propelled him forward. A rush and roar sounded in the distance, and a woman stepped onto the path behind him. From her hands, a ball of fire bloomed and exploded down the walkway, chasing the man hungrily.

Elsis watched, his mouth agape, as the flames closed in, and still the man walked forward. He didn’t even glance over his shoulder, though the hear must have been unbearable.

Just before the flames reached him, the woman made a gesture with her hands, pulling her palms apart and spreading her arms wide.

The fireball split. Each half streaked aside the man and past him, exploding in Elsis’s face, driving the guard back into the doors and through. The front of the house collapsed, folding in on itself as the structure absorbed the brunt of the explosion. The rubble buried those of Balram’s guards not consumed by the fireball.

Kall mounted the steps and crossed the shattered threshold of his home. He saw Balram come out from behind one of the pillars, bloodied and flush from the fire.

Kall noted the bites and scratches. “I see you’ve met my wife,” he said.

Balram did not speak. His gaze flicked to Dantane and Meisha as they flanked Kall in the doorway.

“Welcome home, Kall,” said a voice from the doorway. “Now step forward.”

Kall smiled. “Am I to be forever finding you just over my shoulder, Aazen?” he asked.

Aazen stepped around them, kicking aside glass and debris to make a path. He half-led, half-dragged Varan in the crook of one arm. In the other, he held a long dagger at the wizard’s throat.

Meisha stiffened, but Kall motioned her and Dantane to step forward ahead of him. He kept his back to them and his eyes on Aazen as they moved fully into the hall. “You’re a hard man to find, Balram,” Kall remarked as Aazen circled around to join his father. “And I’ve been looking for you a long time.”

“I’m flattered. But you shouldn’t have come back,” said Balram. “Now all this will end in much the same way it began. Except this time”—he touched Aazen’s shoulder, and the look of paternal pride in his eyes sickened Kall—“my son will kill you.”

Aazen lowered the wizard to the floor and handed his father the dagger. Balram took the blade and settled it back against the wizards throat. Aazen drew his sword.

Meisha took a step forward, but Balram pivoted so she could see the folds of Varans skin lying atop the steel. “Move again, and my hand will slip,” he promised.

Dantane drew her back. They stepped aside as Kall and Aazen approached one another. To the surprise of all, it was Kall who moved in first, banging his blade off Aazen’s with a loud ringing.

“You’re not hesitating, Kall,” Aazen said, swinging through the parry. “Won’t you try to convince me to stand down, to help you kill my father?”

Kall blocked a low thrust. “I told you I would never use you to get at Balram. I asked you to turn from the Shadow Thieves. You’ll never be able to trust them.”

Aazen drew his blade back, following up with a snapping kick aimed at Kall’s midsection. Kall dodged, but caught the brunt of the kick against his bound arm. The pain teased stars from the corners of his eyes.

“I trusted you,” Aazen said. “No matter what mischief you convinced me to take part in, you always looked out for me. In your house, I was safe.”

“But you trust your father more, because no matter how twisted his love, you believe blood will never betray you,” Kall replied.

“Yes.” Aazen blocked a flurry of short attacks and reeled when Kall surrendered his advantage to strike with his fist. The punch glanced across Aazen’s throat. He folded into a defensive crouch, but Kall followed, forcing him to move back and block while he choked for breath.

“But it’s you, Aazen, who loves him beyond reason. He’s buried you so deep in his control you don’t know the way out. I thought I could convince you to come with me, but I lost you that night in the cemetery, didn’t I? I didn’t even realize.”

“Shut up,” Aazen said, whipping his sword around and biting Kall’s arm again. The pain was brilliant, but it was still nothing compared to being burned by a demon. Kall stepped into the move, allowing Aazen to deepen the wound. In doing so, Kall put himself right in Aazen’s space. Aazen pressed the attack, oblivious. He believed Kall would weaken, favor his arm, and retreat.

Kall batted Aazen’s blade aside, flipped his own blade to his off-hand, and grabbed Aazen by the throat, lifting him bodily from the floor. Blood streamed down Kall’s arm, but he held on, pressing his fingers in under Aazen’s jawbone until his sword fell from his hand.

“Aazen!” Balram cried, and for the first time there was real fear in his voice.

“Kall, stop!” yelled Meisha, who saw what he intended.

Kall ignored them both and released Aazen. His friend dropped, falling onto Kall’s angled blade. Aazen grabbed Kall’s shoulders to keep himself upright. Kall held him steady. He leaned forward and spoke against his friend’s ear, but he meant the words for Balram.

“He was always faster, more graceful, when I was all limbs and bone. Laerin taught me better. A half-elf taught me how to beat him.” He slid the blade from Aazen’s stomach. “A dwarf taught me how to live.”

He stood up, but Balram’s eyes were fixed, horrified, on his son. “Aazen,” he whispered. The knife went slack in his hand.

Kall reacted, closing the space between him and Balram with speed that would indeed have made the half-elf proud. Kall’s sword, wet with the son’s blood, found the father’s heart with no fight at all from Balram. Kall drove him back and off the ground, drawing the knife away from Varan’s throat.

Balram’s body hit the ground in a pool of the spilled oil. The latent flames from Meisha’s fireball touched the puddle and ignited, and Balram joined the fire that slowly consumed the wood skeleton of Morel house.

Kall backed away, making no move to put out the flames. He took Aazen’s arms and slung his friend’s body across his shoulders. Dantane lifted Varan, and Meisha took Varan’s other side as they headed for the doors.

“This way,” said Meisha. She waved an arm and the flames covering the door folded aside, boiling in orange swirls. The group slipped out through the small opening into the outer yard.

“Dantane,” said Kall, laying Aazen down on the grass.

Glassy-eyed, Aazen watched in resigned silence as his lifeblood soaked the green lawn. The scene reminded Kall of that day on the Esmel shore, when Haig had saved Aazen’s life. Those boys were long dead, Kall thought. “Hurry,” he said.

Meisha took Varan, and Dantane handed Kall his last vial. “You should have killed him,” the wizard said impassively.

“Garavin would have been disappointed if I had.” Propping Aazen against his shoulder, Kall poured the healing potion down his friends throat. Aazen choked on the concoction, but Kall held his mouth. “Swallow, damn you. You’re not gone yet.”

Aazen swallowed. Selûne’s light reflected in his eyes as he stared upward. Gradually, they cleared and swiveled around to focus on Kall. “I thought you had done it,” Aazen said hoarsely. “I thought you’d killed me.”

“I would have been returning the favor,” Kall pointed out. “You tried to kill me.”

“I had to,” said Aazen, sitting unsteadily. He stared over Kall’s shoulder, through the gap in the front of the house. His father was in there. He would never come out again. It took a moment for the gravity of that truth to sink into Aazen’s soul.

He looked back at Kall. “If I didn’t make you fight in earnest, you couldn’t have won,” Aazen said. “I would have killed you before you got to him.” He paused, remembering. “But I never thought you would use me that way. I didn’t think my father could be so distracted.”

“He loved you,” Kall said, “as much as he was capable. You were right about that.”

Meisha looked at Aazen incredulously. “You wanted Kall to win,” she accused him. “You wanted him to—”

“Kill me,” Aazen said. “Yes.”

“Gods, why? If release was what you wanted, why didn’t you kill Balram yourself?” she demanded.

“He couldn’t,” said Kall. He wiped his blade on the grass and resheathed it. “No more than I could accept that my father murdered Haig by his own will and took my mother from me. He was right. We were both in a cage. He wanted me to win.”

“When did you figure that out?” asked Aazen.

“After we fought in the Delve,” Kall said, “I suspected. I knew it later, when the portals were unguarded. I should have known long before.”

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Because you wanted to be free of Balram. Your death wasn’t necessary.”

“Free,” said Dantane, looking at Meisha. “To face justice?”

Aazen shook his head. “To return to the Shadow Thieves.”

“No,” Kall and Meisha said, almost as one. Dantane smiled.

“You will still answer for the refugees in the Delve,” said Meisha, “for Varan.”

“And for you,” Aazen said, looking at her. “I did try to kill you. I thought I had succeeded. But now you of all people should want me to go free.”

Meisha laughed scornfully. “The excuse would have to be profound,” she said.

“Balram is dead. The Shadow Thieves’ work in the Delve has been compromised, but Varan is alive, and they will not give him up easily,” said Aazen. “If I return, I can report his death, and you will be free. Keep me for your Harper friends and there will be no safe place for you and the mad wizard.”

“The Harpers are more than capable of protecting their own,” Meisha said, “and no bond of friendship holds me. I need nothing from you.”

Aazen smirked. “And will the Harpers welcome a mad, dangerous wizard into their fold?” he asked. “You know there’s only one place for him now, and if I don’t go back, he’ll never be able to get there. It’s your choice.”

Kall imagined Meisha’s inner struggle. He fought his own feelings on the matter, but he wasn’t surprised when Meisha finally nodded. “I accept,” she said reluctantly, and added, “on the promise that if anything happens to Varan—if he is attacked, kidnapped, or suffers a mysterious ‘accident’ in his bed at night, the Harpers will come after you.” A red glow suffused her skin, or perhaps it was just the reflection from the burning house. “And I will be leading the way.”

Aazen nodded. “You, on the other hand,” he said to Kall, “will be much harder to convince.”

But Kall shook his head. “Go your own path,” he said. “I won’t hinder you, but choose any way but the Shadow Thieves. I spoke the truth. You’ll never be able to trust them.”

“I know,” said Aazen. “And so they will never have a hold on me. I claim no love … or friendship,” he said pointedly, “and so no one will ever control me—ever again.”

The conviction in his voice, the look in his eyes struck Kall with sadness. “True love doesn’t control,” he said.

“Of course it does,” said Aazen. “Love and friendship are flawed emotions. They can be twisted, manipulated, as we’ve both experienced. Never again,” he said. Then he added softly, “You’ve found better companions, Kall. Keep them.”

When Aazen walked away, Kall did not cry out for him to return. For a second time, he watched the darkness swallow his friend, but this time Kall was not alone. Meisha and Dantane stood on either side of him, and later, Morgan, Talal, and Garavin joined them. They stood, silhouetted in the light of the fire, until the Gem Guard came.