Darkness has Fallen (Elf World Saga Book 2) Page 9

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  The carriage jolted over a loose paving stone bring Myst back to the present in another carriage riding home from seeing her off at the docks. He had enjoyed remembering the last few days, happily lost in memory, as the ride back from seeing Kayla off on the ferry seemed long and empty to him. Even the beautiful city lights he loved so, failed to cheer him much. All of the grand stone boulevards lined with elegant stone buildings, just left him cold this evening...

  Then a face caught his attention, Myst was not always good at names, but he never forgot a face, not when the owner of that face had tried to kill him, and this one more than once… “But this one was dead, or surely at least locked in a deep dark cell…”?

  He marked the direction of travel and outfit, russet leather long coat, darker pants, hood... Myst waited until the carriage had gone a bit farther and pounded on the roof, as the vehicle came to stop, Myst paid off the driver and jumped down.

  “Well, let’s see what good old Agnarr Stonecrow was doing in town, and why was he still breathing…”

  Myst stayed well back and on the opposite side of the cobbled street, there was more of a danger of losing Agnarr than being spotted in the crowed of people. Here in the docks, there were more ‘others’ than Sun Elves whose capital city this was, dwarves, gnomes, elves from all over, even a fair amount of Horcs who seem to make up the lowest rung in many cities. In the low light the only way Myst could tell a Horc, who was half elf and half orc, from say a Wild Elf, was the size, a good extra few inches in height and thirty plus pounds gave them away. The Wild Elves and Horcs seem to have a particular animosity, fighting for the same sort of work, laborers mostly, or whores, or thieves…

  Agnarr would occasionally stop and check his back trail to look for a tail, “good luck with that Agnarr,” Myst thought, “this is not the cold moors of the Wildlands or dark forest of Yagon…” He was more concerned that Agnarr would have lookouts at his destination; they would have a better chance of spotting something amiss.

  They continued on a ways as darkness truly set in, “must be near the main canal, a four or five streets to the north.” Agnarr stopped again, suddenly turned and disappeared into an alley. Myst continued on to the next alleyway, crossed the street and backed into the gloom. He concentrated his Earth Magic sense, sweeping the narrow passage, nothing sentient. Jumping up he grabbed a drain spout and worked hand over hand climb to the roofline, pulled himself up. Checked the roof with his magic, it was empty. He crawled over to the other side above the ally Angarr had gone down. Again checked his magic sense, and oh yes both ends had three or four elves hidden in the shadows, and another two standing on each end of the roof of the next building.

  “Well thanks for being obvious, but now how to get over there…”

  Myst could easily jump the alleyway, but could he do it without being heard from the two watchers on each end of the roof, was the noise from the street significantly loud…? He worked to the midpoint of the alley, pulled in magic around him to dampen sound, and ran and leaped. He easily cleared the low stone roof edge, and lay prone. No movement, his magic told him none of the roof watchers had moved from their locations.

  Myst peeked over the roof; a window was about four feet below him. He edged over the roof and hung letting his boots find perches, fortunately for him the window had a wide top and bottom ledge to it, quickly he had the window open and eased into a wooden landing. It looked like a large storeroom or warehouse, old and run down. He was on a top level that looked to circle the building and the open area below. A wooden railing gave view down three stories to a large open room. Myst magically swept the area, thirty, maybe more elves… “Shit… what is going on?”

  He carefully, slowly, looked over the railing, there was Agnarr standing with a much better dressed male elf, whose cloak was thrown back to reveal dark hair and pale olive skin, tall and with a dangerous and aristocratic bearing, a Shadow Elf… Myst thought he recognized him, Anton Amur, a Dark Lord…

  “Fantastic…, freaking fantastic, the chances of living through the next few minutes just got a lot smaller!”

  Another figure emerged from the darkness, “female, Elven… Wealthy, very wealth to judge by the clothing, that full length hooded snow leopard coat would buy a small house, maybe a not so small house.”

  Myst could not hear what was being said as they talked in hushed voices, “maybe magically protected from being overheard” he wondered?

  Myst used a spell to increase his hearing, but all he could pick up was the sound of buzzing, so definitely magically warded. Myst felt a little dizzy and knew he was pushing his ability to use magic to his limit.

  The Dark Lord, a creature not fully living and yet not undead, took something out of a small metal bound case, it looked to Myst to be a black pearl about the size of a women’s fist, and gave it to the female.

  Myst rose up higher and leaned out to get a better view, “lightly golden tan skin of a Sun Elf, and a signet ring…” Myst again had to used his magic to increase his vision, “a crowned black dragon on golden sun burst, son of a BITCH!”

  “Thud.” A hand crossbow bolt impacted the beam next to his head .

  Myst threw himself back from the railing, as a fraction of a second later the Dark Lord hurled a ball of deep purple lightning into the spot Myst had been, it detonating with an unholy blast of power. The wooden landing collapsed and Myst fell to the landing below where two hooded Elves with long knives rushed him. He lunged at the legs of the one on his right, tripping him up and causing him to fall into his companion. Myst continued to roll, leaped up and plunged the dagger he kept on his belt in the small of his back, into the base of the skull of the one he tripped. The second elf had just extricated himself when Myst punched him repeatedly in the face and kicked him off the landing to fall to the floor below.

  Quickly, Myst jumped up and pulled himself to the destroyed landing and went out the window, another small crossbow bolt chipped the stone window sill. He could tell the enemy was a beehive of activity, but fortunately most of them were still unaware of what had happened or at least where Myst was. Up to the roof he climbed, and he dashed off across to the far side, both the watcher gave chase but Myst made the edge and jumped to the next building. Behind him one of the followers jumped the alleyway, but Myst flung his left hand back the way he had come and a magical dark green bolt flew to hit the other elf in mid leap stopping his momentum midway. Myst knew that while it was unlikely that the weak magic bolt had killed him, the four story drop to the cobblestones in all probability had. A pounding headache had erupted in his head with the casting of the magic bolt, any more magic risked incapacitating him now.

  On he ran, he had gained a rooftop distance advantage on the dozen or so who were now in pursuit of him. Occasionally a crossbow bolt would fly by him; he was trying to make it hard on them as he could. He leaped over to another roof, vaulted a low wall without slowing, grabbed up a shirt on a laundry line, wrapped it tight about his left hand. He made the edge of the roof; a wire he had spotted from the street ran down a double wide alley to a window a level lower, Myst flipped the shirt over the wire, wrapped it in his right hand and jumped…

  He rapidly slid down the wire landing on a balcony across the street. He dashed off through the building, kicked open a door, ran past a woman in her kitchen, and outside onto the opposite side balcony, jumped onto the iron railing and out into space, arms outstretched for balance to land on the next baloney, into the apartment and crashed into a main hallway, he paused looked around to orientate himself, to the right he could see down the hall to a window and a building he thought he knew.

  Sprinting to the window-door to a common balcony, up on the rail he leaped, made the other side crashing through a window on the next floor down.

  Glass shattered all around him as he tucked and rolled, a dark elf came around the corner with a hand crossbow ready, Myst grabbed his arm with his left hand and delivering a hard strike with his right to the radial nerve se
nding the crossbow flying to discharge into the wall. The dark elf hit him in the face, Myst blocked the next hit and delivered a flurry of blows to his opponent, who trapped Myst left arm and sent him flying sideways into a plaster wall. The dark elf was on him, striking Myst repeatedly in the face, once, twice, three times…

  Myst slammed an elbow into his opponent's face pushing him back and then kicked sending him flying back across the room. The dark elf flipped backwards onto his feet and they met in the center of the room trading strikes and blocks faster than the eye could follow. This was not a low level assassin Myst realized as the dark elf was giving as good as he took.

  Abruptly Myst arm was grabbed and he was crashing headfirst into a glass cabinet. Pulled out and spun into a doorjamb, Myst kicked back catching the dark elf’s knee, strikes to the dark elf's face and then Myst was able to trapped his right arm with Myst left, another series of open handed blows to the assassin's face…

  The dark elf threw himself back and to the floor, Myst kneed him in the chest as he struggled to his feet, he ducked his head and drove into Myst stomach flipping Myst over to land on a low table that broke on impact. He pulled a hatchet from behind his back and struck at Myst lying on the floor, Myst rolled to the left at the last second. He struck again and Myst got a broken part of the table up to block. Myst kicked his leg out and his opponent crashed backwards to the floor.

  They were both up and closing, the dark elf used an overhand blow with the hatchet that Myst caught it on piece of table he was using, and then quickly Myst slammed that it into his face, then the wrist holding the hatchet sending it flying. Again and again, forcing him back into the cabinet Myst had broken moments earlier. Myst struck him in the face repeatedly with both the wood and his fist. He lashed out at Myst with a belt buckle knife, forcing Myst back, blocking the small knife strikes.

  Myst caught the knife hand and slammed it into a doorjamb until the dark elf dropped the knife, then Myst grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the same doorway as blood splattered, but the dark elf broke the attack and charged Myst again, slamming them both into a door and into a small tiled bathroom.

  Myst spun changing directions letting the dark elf hit the wall, he forced him down with a frontal choke hold, the dark elf grabbed at his arms, but slowly slid down as his attempts weakened, and then ceased. Myst made sure he was done, as he held the choke hold a minute longer to be sure.

  Myst stood bent over him panting, “Shit, that took,--- way more effort --- than it should--, have.”

  He could hear a door breaking somewhere to the left, no time to look for any of the dropped weapons, only to again flee. He took off running, found the stairs and bounded up to the roof…

  “Where is the canal…!” It took a moment to reorient himself.

  “There, to the north the Imperial Palace gold dome sparkled in the night, and it was on the far side of the canal!”

  Again he leaped to the next and last building, he risked using his magic sense once again it told him a dozen pursuers were on the roof behind him closing fast.

  “Damn can I clear the last street and the far stone wall, is there any choice...” he wondered as suddenly sprinted to the edge of the last building on the street, he put his head down and with a final burst of speed, hurdled out into the empty night, he sailed at least thirty feet out windmilling his arms and legs, as he fell the four stories to land with a splash in the dark and ice cold canal.

  ~

  Chapter 7

  At the far end of the Imperial Chamber and under the Great Dome of the Imperial Sun Palace sat the Swan Throne, a magnificent golden chair ten feet high, encrusted with diamonds and backed with a great fan of snow white feathers from the Giant Solarian Swan, a truly massive yet very rare creature almost twice the size of an ordinary ostrich from Kush. The massive throne of gold was topped with a great diamond set in an intricate platinum collar styled as the rays of the sun, it sparkled with magical light. The diamond was known as the ‘Heart of the Empire’ and was indeed a most glorious and awe inspiring sight. The seat and back of the Imperial Throne was cushioned in golden silk embroidered in silver and platinum thread with the sunburst emblem of the Sun Elven Peoples.

  The Swan Throne was raised on a large ornate gilded platform, where only the ‘special few’ who were granted audience with the Emperor could stand, and who could then look out over the great round room, that seemed to be nearly large enough to allow the racing of chariots around it. It was here that, Grand balls, affairs of state, heraldic investments and coronations were all held, and all with grand majesty and imperial pomp the court could devise, all under the massive white and gold dome.

  Emperor Alexander the Fifth of that name, sat casually on his throne, he was average height and of average build for a Sun Elf, a long angular face, thick dark hair, and piercing pale grayish blue eyes. He exuded an air or both power and magnetism, and a certain quixotic danger, as his explosive temper well known to the court.

  Normally he would dress in bright jewel tones rivaling a peacock, but on those occasions, like today, when his mood took a darker turn, then blackest black was his color. So today the Emperor was resplendent in a heavy black velvet and leather cap sleeve tunic trimmed in dark gold thread, snug satin black breeches and high black riding boots. A gold and ruby chain of office hung about his neck and the Sundragon Diadem sat lightly on his head. It was the more casual of his selection of crowns, and the one for more day to day affairs, simply a circlet of two rampant dragons in flight fixed in platinum with yellow diamond eyes.

  Alexander the First, had been the first High King when the Kingdom of Vendure was merged with the conjoined kingdom of Gondalin-Avissant, at the time of the Great Cataclysm just over twelve thousand years ago. It had taken another seven thousand years for the Sundragon’s to finally create the current Empire under Sebastian the First..., and this Emperor, by the Creator, had designs on expanding it further..., one day! A not so secret vow to bring all of the Nadark into his realm. The current set back with the Orcs invading Surin was only a bump in the road… and one day also the conquest of Yagon to add to his realm, maybe yes he thought?

  On Alexander’s right, next to the throne, stood Baron Mueton Hawkesbury his Chief Justiciar and Lord High Chancellor, the second most powerful elf in the empire and probably the second richest, and on his left stood his son, Crown Prince Galen, a fairly competent military leader when not engaging in wild partying and renowned debauched excess that were somewhat unusual for the modern Sundragon line, and so to was Galen’s strange dark blue eyes, if Galen had not the exact deep black hair of Alexander, the Court would have had greater gossip about the affairs of the high strung and narcissistic Empress Annalas, than it normally did.

  Before Emperor Alexander were two elves adding to his dark mood, the one on the left, the old and very tall, grey haired Grand Marshal Lorthos, Duke of Gondalon and Chief of the Imperial High Command, and on the right stood Caiwen Nightsong, Count of Savine, the Lord High Constable, who was also grey-haired but not from age, as Count Caiwen was not yet five hundred summers, and so barely middle-aged for an elf, he was dressed in his black and red formal Justice Ministers Uniform with the gold badge of his high office affixed to his left chest. It was said that when the Count gained the terrible scar on the left side of his face, his hair turned blonde-grey overnight.

  Most people tended not to ask about it as the Count was an elf of violent pride and high dignity, with a terrible reputation for utterly destroying those who opposed him, he was quite possibly the only person the Emperor never flew into rages with, at least no one had publicly seen one.

  “Your Imperial Majesty,” Grand Marshal Gondalon spoke, “how and why these dead Shadow Elves entered Palantar is still unknown, as is who killed them…”

  The Emperor suddenly leaned forward, “What is it that you do know, Grand Marshal, what is it that I pay you for… Certainly not too hear about your incompetence and what you don’t know…! Or did these Shad
ow Elves simply fall from the sky on our rooftops during a migration, was that it, are they a new type of geese!” The last of the tirade could be heard halfway across the great room.

  Count Caiwen cleared his throat, “Majesty, my agents as well as the city watch are scouring the city, we will know the answers you seek presently. There will be no interruption with your birthday celebrations I assure you.”

  “It had better not be Count, now be gone and find me these answers… Oh,” the elves stopped in mid-bow, “increase the guard; bring in another regiment of troops to keep order just in case.”

  “Yes, your Majesty,” they bowed and hurriedly started to leave when the Emperor frowned and again waved them to stay as he saw two more elves rapidly approaching the Imperial Dais.

  Myst followed Lieutenant General Mars Trendal, the head of Military Intelligence under the Great Dome; he had gone to see his old boss as soon as Myst had pulled himself from the canal and changed into dry clothing. Now the shorter greying strawberry blonde General was hurrying toward the Swan Throne with a reluctant Myst in tow. Myst was as usual awed by the Imperial Throne room; the size was simply breathtaking, as was the amount of gold and alabaster used in adornment. Around the chamber, grand mirrors reflected back the lights of beautiful crystal chandeliers held up by even more beautiful twice life size nymphs made from gold, and lights from even larger chandeliers suspended from the ceiling about the dome. It was like walking into a dragon’s hoard, merely one much more elegantly refined than was usual for dragons…

  Great banners of House Sundragon hung; the Black Dragon trimmed in red, couchant upon a field of gold. Myst thought that the beast looked rather sinister and dangerous, it seem to him to well fit the Imperial House. He looked around for the traditional banner of the Sun Elves, the one the Imperial Army used, the golden sun burst on dark emerald green, he did not really expect to see it here and he was not disappointed or rather he was, only not surprised, as usual House Sundragon was all about House Sundragon...