Blood of the Underworld (47 page)

“I’ve known better days,” Alyssa said. A cloth was over her face, hiding the empty sockets. “The priests say they can do nothing. I’ve sent Terrance to find the finest glass smith in the land. I may not be able to see, but I’ll have eyes, damn it, beautiful green eyes...”

She was crying, and no squeezing of her hands by her son seemed able to stop it. Zusa felt a burden growing in her chest. She wished she could say something, do something, to make it all better. But she could perform no miracles with her daggers and cloak.

“Nathan, I need a moment with your mother,” she said. Nathaniel instinctively held his mother tighter, and Zusa smiled to show nothing was wrong. “It is no worrisome matter,” she insisted. “I just wish a few words in private.”

“You can wait outside the door,” Alyssa told him.

Nathaniel nodded, then blushed upon realizing she couldn’t see it.

“Yes, mother,” he said.

Zusa shut the door behind him, then turned back to Alyssa.

“He’s so frightened,” Alyssa said, putting a hand on her forehead. “I can’t blame him. Even with Stephen dead, he thinks the guards will turn on us at any second.”

“A wise boy to fear it,” Zusa said, sliding up beside the bed. “We should return to our own mansion whenever you are well. I would entrust your life to them no longer.”

Alyssa nodded.

“I’ll tell Terrance to make the preparations.”

Zusa sat down, and she struggled to find the proper words.

“I killed him,” she said. “Not just Stephen, but the man who ordered him. I tried to make it painful, but I didn’t have time. I had to get back to you.”

Alyssa reached out her hand, and Zusa took it, pressed it against her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Zusa whispered. “I should have been here. I should have been faster, shouldn’t have gotten caught...”

“It’s not your fault,” Alyssa said. “I shouldn’t have been so...blind.”

She laughed, laughed even though she could hardly breathe, even though she still sniffled from her tears, which soaked into the cloth. Zusa squeezed her hand tighter, then kissed her fingertips.

“Not again,” she said. “I won’t let you ever be in danger again. I failed you before, but I swear to fix this. I swear I’ll find a way.”

“Forget me,” Alyssa said. “Nathaniel is all that matters. His role in our dealings needs increased tremendously. Every vulture will be circling. If Nathaniel is to be my heir, he needs to take it now, and show Dezrel his strength.”

“But he’s so young...”

“And he’s endured more than most have in their lifetimes. Gods help me, I’m blind, and he’s lost an arm. The vultures won’t just be circling, they’ll be pecking at our corpses.”

Another bitter laugh. Zusa hated to see her so, but she also couldn’t deny her argument. Everyone would be searching for weakness now. Potential replacements for Nathaniel would come out of the woodwork.

“I’ll kill them all,” Zusa whispered. “Any challenger, any threat. I won’t lose you, Alyssa. I don’t think I could endure it.”

Alyssa reached out, and Zusa leaned close so she could wrap her arms about her. As they embraced, Alyssa kissed her neck, then pressed her forehead against her breast.

“You can’t kill the world,” Alyssa told her. “And they must come to fear Nathaniel, not you. Just promise that if something should happen to me, you’ll raise him as your own.”

“Alyssa...”

“Promise me!”

Zusa swallowed, and it felt like nails caught in her throat.

“I promise,” she said.

Alyssa leaned back in the bed, and it looked like she relaxed for the first time since her encounter with Stephen.

“I need some rest,” she said. “Send Nathaniel in if he’s still upset.”

“Yes, milady.”

Zusa left, and she felt a pall settle over her. The walls of the mansion confined her, and she headed for the exit, wanting fresh air, wanting to be alone. At the doors to the mansion, Zusa stopped, for a great commotion had started. Soldiers, at least a hundred, were streaming into the mansion, shouting and joking with one another as if they’d arrived for a feast. Every single one bore the Gandrem family crest. Servants ushered them down various hallways, trying to find spare rooms.

In the center of it all stood John Gandrem, greeting his men. And with her arms wrapped around his waist was Melody.

“Our family will be kept safe,” Melody said, noticing Zusa standing there amid the sea of confusion. “Do not worry for my daughter, nor her son. You’ve done much to protect us, but it’s time we do this the right way.”

Zusa said nothing, just continued to count the men. When the number reached two hundred, she returned to Alyssa’s room and hid above the door, her body awash in shadows, her daggers at the ready.

Never again,
she thought.

T
arlak could hardly believe what he was hearing, and even if he believed it, he certainly didn’t like it.

“Are you sure he wasn’t lying?” he asked, plopping down in his chair. Haern stood at the door to his room, hands on the hilts of his swords. “You know priests of Karak aren’t exactly known for their truthfulness.”

“Trust me on this,” Haern said, shaking his head. “He didn’t lie. Whoever this Luther is, he set his sights on nearly every major player in Veldaren. The Gemcrofts, the Conningtons, myself, the thief guilds...”

“Why Thren in particular, you think?”

Haern shrugged.

“Thought Thren would be the least likely to fold? Seemed there might be some sort of familiarity between Thren and the Suns, too. Not sure.”

Tarlak frowned while rocking back and forth.

“Every major player,” he said. “Every single one but the King...”

Haern chuckled.

“Perhaps he thought the King too inept to pose a problem?”

Tarlak shot him a look.

“This is no laughing matter. What you’re talking about is beyond dangerous.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” Tarlak insisted. “You want to travel all the way to Ker so you can infiltrate the Stronghold, to interrogate a priest whose name you can’t be sure is real, and who might not even be there. And this isn’t some ordinary building, either. This is the dark paladins’ home, their training ground, their own little private fortress. Damn it, Haern, I’ve heard horror stories about their dungeons that make Thren seem like a pretty butterfly.”

He stood, waved a finger.

“And most importantly of all about this nonsensical plan...there’s no money in it!”

The wizard plopped back down in his chair and rubbed his forehead with his fingers.

“I won’t help you,” he said. “None of us will.”

“I thought not.”

Tarlak sighed.

“You’re still going, aren’t you?”

Haern nodded.

“They wanted us dead, Tar. You know I can’t leave us in danger like that. What happens if he tries again? We still don’t know what Luther wanted to accomplish, other than plunging Veldaren into chaos.”

“So you’ll go alone? They’ll kill you, you have to know that.”

Haern seemed far too assured, far too confident. Nothing of his rant was rattling him. Something was up, and it stank.

“I know it’s suicide to go alone,” his friend said. “That’s why I’m not going alone.”

Haern stepped away from the door, revealing Thren Felhorn leaning against the doorframe behind him, arms crossed, an amused expression on his face.

“I must say,” he said, glancing about Tarlak’s room. “I think I expected something more. And forgive me if I may be so bold, wizard, but I don’t think anyone has ever referred to me as a pretty butterfly in my entire life.”

He smirked as Tarlak’s jaw dropped open.

“So please...don’t do it again.”

Note from the Author:

While growing up, I read a ton of comic books. I doubt this surprises anyone. When I look at my characters, I see so many of them as comic book heroes (and I’ve even had reviewers mention this as well…though not always in a positive light). But Zusa, Harruq, Thren, Deathmask, they’re all larger than life characters to me, complete with costumes and weapon of choice. Heck, even Haern’s got a secret identity and troubled past. He’s like my Batman (and don’t ask me if that makes Tarlak his Alfred).

So one of my favorite things with comics was the massive amount of cross-overs. Spider-Man and Wolverine teaming up, or even trying to smash each other’s heads in. I loved it. It made these universes feel larger, more real. And every now and then they’d do a major event. This would be something so big nearly every hero would make an appearance, usually to prevent the world from being blasted into tiny pieces or conquered by intergalactic space bugs. For me, The Watcher’s Blade Trilogy is my attempt at my own event comic. Characters, villains, places, and events from the Half-Orcs, the Paladins, and Shadowdance will all be making cameos and playing important roles. My goal is not to leave readers who haven’t read my other works behind (I tried very hard to reintroduce everyone anew in this book). No, it’s to hopefully reward the faithful, the ones who’ll devour everything I have in a two week span and then wonder when’s the next. If having Haern meet Darius makes you smile, I’ve done my job.

Astute readers might have noticed that the cover of this book is a lie. It’s true. That’s Grayson and Zusa fighting on the cover, and such a fight never really occurs. When deciding the layout for the trilogy, my first intention was to do something similar to Shadowdance, with characters over a plain, perhaps even white, background. However, instead of just showing Zusa, I wanted to show as many major players as possible, and created a list of six: Antonil, Deathmask, Haern, Thren, Zusa, and Grayson. Given how the second book is called Blood of the Father, you can probably figure out which two will be on that cover. Since this is a sequel series to Shadowdance, I felt it best to have Zusa on the first cover, and with Grayson dying, well, that meant putting him on book three would be kind of stupid. Unless I implemented Zombie Grayson. Which, given my history, I wouldn’t put it past me. So that’s why Zusa vs Grayson is the cover. I hope none of you spent the whole book wondering when that fight was going to happen.

Speaking of astute readers, I’m sure there’s quite a few of you here that have read the Paladins series. To answer the question that is (hopefully) on your mind…yes. That is indeed the same Luther. Sorry for the minor spoilering of my own other series, but we’re heading west.

And, cross your fingers, Darius might be coming with us.

Thanks so much for making it this far, and I hope you thoroughly enjoyed my little tale. If you’d like to send me an email, you can do so at [email protected]. You can also swing by my Facebook page, www.facebook.com/thehalforcs. I check it daily. Last, feel free to go to my webpage at ddalglish.com and sign up for the mailing list. No spam, I promise. Just an announcement for any new book release.

Again my sincerest thanks for allowing me to tell my stories. This is a dream, and I get to live it because of people like you. My ten year old self reading X-Men comics would probably never believe how damn lucky he’d grow up to be.

David Dalglish

May 10, 2012