The Tomni'Tai Scroll (Book 1) (20 page)

Yeoj looked up the rain gutter and gave it a testing tug. He reached back for his crossbow and then remembered he had given it to Pendonov, who had let Sebina use it. Yeoj cursed himself for leaving it there. That left him with a knife and a sword against Galion and possibly several others. He knew they would spot him as soon as he stepped out of the alleyway.

He stepped back into the alley and thought. His breath was almost back now, and the stitch in his side had lessened considerably. Still, he couldn’t just rush the front door. He jogged back to the next block and then cut across a dimly lit side street. He figured if he could circle around to the back of the blacksmith shop, he might have a decent chance to surprise them.

When Yeoj circled back to the street that Baldur’s Arms was on he could see that he was a few hundred yards away from the shop. He crossed the street casually, deciding that if he was spotted from this distance it would be better for him to act naturally than to be seen sprinting across the street.

After he made it across he cut into the first alley on his right and picked his way through the shadows, getting closer and closer to Baldur’s Arms. He kept glancing upward, looking for any sign that a watcher might be above him.

A door opened up ahead of him and out stepped a short, old woman holding a plate of fish bones. Yeoj froze, and backed up slowly to crouch next to a pile of rubble. The old lady set the plate down in the alleyway, mumbling something about cats, and then went back inside.

As the door closed and the light disappeared from the alley, Yeoj caught a glimpse of something on a nearby roof. He remained still, watching. Nothing reappeared. Was he paranoid, or was someone watching him? Yeoj glanced around, but couldn’t see any easy way up to the roof. He would have to double back again if he wanted to check the roof, but that would cost him time he may not have.

He got up and maneuvered to the plate of fish bones just as a whole group of stray cats came running in from all directions. He managed to get the plate without losing any fingers as the cats clawed and hissed at him. He glanced upward again and tossed the plate up. It spun through the air and clattered on the roof, making more than a little noise.

A figure stepped into view, peering over the edge of the roof, his face hidden by a large hood. Yeoj broke into a run. An arrow sunk into a wall nearby, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t have time to engage this foe and risk alerting Galion.

The man on the roof let out a sharp whistle. A second whistle answered from a roof on the left, followed by a third. Yeoj ran on, drawing his sword as a pair of men jumped down from the rooftops in front of him. He was too close to his goal to let them stand in his way.

They each drew swords and came at Yeoj fast. Yeoj turned abruptly, kicked in a door to a different building and rushed inside. A pair of old women stood staring at him blankly as he ran past, followed by the two swordsmen hot on his heels. Yeoj grabbed a wooden chair and flung it wildly as he turned around to face his pursuers. He caught one of the men in the shoulder, sending him crashing into the other. Yeoj lashed out and stabbed one of them in the throat, then he pulled back and ended the second with the wooden chair, crushing the man’s skull against the hard, stone floor.

“Pardon me, ladies,” Yeoj offered as he rushed back out into the alley. The two old women remained silent, staring at Yeoj behind spectacles that reflected the candlelight in the room.

Yeoj caught a glimpse of someone out of the corner of his eye and ducked just in time to miss an axe careening for his neck. The axe bit deep into the doorjamb and the would-be assassin struggled to free it. Yeoj turned back and stabbed the man with several quick strikes of the knife in the belly. Then he slammed the man’s head into the back of the axe head and ran on to the blacksmith shop.

He arrived just as the shop’s back door opened. A large man stood there, holding a wickedly curved scimitar. Yeoj plunged his sword into the man’s chest and yanked the scimitar free. He pushed the man to the floor and scanned inside. He was in a small room used for storing coal, probably for the furnace in the shop. Beyond that was a narrow hallway that opened into a larger room. Yeoj could only see part of the room from where he stood as the rest was beyond his field of vision. A couple of kerosene lamps hung from hooks in the ceiling. They swung as someone moved around upstairs.

Yeoj then focused on the large, brown skinned man sitting on a wooden stool near the front wall of the shop, holding a middle aged man in front of him by the hair, with a knife to his throat.

“I think we can come to some agreement,” the large man said.

Yeoj stepped in cautiously, pulling his sword free from the man he had just slain. He kicked the door closed behind him and used his wrist to throw the bolt to lock it. “I am not here to make deals,” Yeoj said solemnly. “I am here to kill you, Galion.”

Galion chuckled and rose to his feet, nearly lifting the middle-aged man off the floor by his hair as he did so. Yeoj knew that Kuscans were big, but this man was well over seven feet tall. His head was clean shaven, with a tribal tattoo covering half of his face and the left side of his torso. “That’s too bad,” he said. “If you kill me, then you kill this man too.” Galion nodded.

A man jumped around the corner with a crossbow in hand. Yeoj leapt to the side, landing atop the pile of coal as the bolt sunk deep into the door behind him. Yeoj peeked around the corner and clumsily threw the scimitar down the hall, but it caught onto the wall and fell short of its mark. The crossbowman reloaded quickly.

Something crashed into the back door.

“My men have you surrounded,” Galion yelled from the front of the shop. “There is nowhere for you to go.”

Yeoj looked around for something he could use. Men were pounding on the back door. The lock strained against them to hold the wooden door in place. The kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling swung wildly.

Yeoj quickly grabbed a coal shovel and whacked the kerosene lamp with all of his might. The glass shattered, spewing the pungent liquid through the whole hall, but only the bottom half of the lamp broke. The top half with the burning wick swung back and forth on the hook, but did not fall.

“Stop him,” Galion roared. “He’ll kill us all!”

The crossbowman advanced, but Yeoj chucked the shovel at the lamp in the hallway. The shovel unhooked the lamp and it came crashing down on the wooden floor. The lamp shattered and this time the flame found the kerosene and ignited the whole back half of the building in a single
whoosh
! The crossbowman screamed in pain, dropping his weapon and running toward the front of the house. Yeoj was two steps behind him. The flames licked at his body and caught on his pants and tunic, but Yeoj was not daunted. He charged Galion madly.

Galion slit the middle-aged man’s throat and dropped his body to the floor before drawing a sword and beheading the burning crossbowman. “I will kill you for this,” Galion swore. The pounding on the door started to crack and break the wood as Yeoj pushed forward.

Yeoj ran in, jumping to the left when he reached the room, just under Galion’s first swing. Yeoj then ran to the far side of the room, taking another lamp from the ceiling and throwing it against the front door of the shop. As the flames exploded over the front of the shop, devouring the walls and floor, two club-wielders entered the room from the burning hallway. Their clothes and hair smoldered from the fire as they patted out a couple of flames and then searched the room for him.

Another man appeared at the top of the stairs and ran down toward Yeoj. Yeoj rushed him and hacked at the man’s ankles. The man easily jumped over the swing, but had miscalculated his trajectory. He landed wrong and stumbled down the stairs. Yeoj sliced open his back and kicked him forward at the other three.

The flames rushed up the walls, encircling all of the men and filling the top of the room with smoke. Galion was forced to crouch to keep his head below the smoke. Yeoj grinned and gave him a wink.

Galion and the men rushed forward. Yeoj lashed out with a savage kick, catching one of the clubmen in the stomach and doubling him over. Then he swung left with his sword and caught the other clubman across the chest, opening a gash and spewing blood across Galion’s face.

Galion sidestepped and wiped his face clear of blood before resuming his assault. Yeoj ran up the stairs, with Galion just a few steps behind. Yeoj looked around frantically, trying to see through the smoke that was funneling up the stairway. Some flames had found their way to the back of the second story. The building wouldn’t last much longer before collapsing in on itself, Yeoj knew. He caught a glimpse of one lantern hanging in the center of the upstairs chamber. He dashed for it, and took it down just as Galion reached the top of the stairs.

“You have caused me a lot of trouble,” Galion growled.

Yeoj wound up and threw the last kerosene lamp to the stairwell. It exploded on the stairs and the men below all started shrieking and yelling in pain. Galion turned to the stairs, now fully ablaze, and then back to Yeoj.

“No way out,” Yeoj sneered.

“I welcome death,” Galion sniggered. “For me it is only the beginning of new birth. I will come back to this plane stronger than before.”

“Feel the heat, Kuscan?” Yeoj taunted. “There is no such thing as reincarnation. The only things waiting for you are the fires of Hammenfein. You best get used to this.”

Yeoj stepped forward, gripping his sword with both hands. The smoke swirled around them as they each took turns striking and parrying. The flames grew larger, closing in on them as they danced amidst their swords’ songs of death. Wood creaked and cackled as the structure lost its strength.

The two of them panted furiously against the decreasing oxygen in the room. The smoke grew thicker, slowing both fighters down the harder they breathed. Yeoj could feel his strength leaving him as the heat filled his lungs with each breath. His vision was starting to blur, and not just from the smoke. He could barely see Galion’s face, but he kept swinging his sword. Sweat poured down his face and neck. His pants spurted into flame occasionally, but never fully caught fire. A quick shake of the threatened limb would put the fire off of him again. Galion seemed to be slowing as well, and becoming less coordinated.

The screaming below had ceased, and the flames were coming up now through cracks and spaces between the floorboards. Still, Yeoj pressed on. He kept swinging and thrusting, but Galion always managed to deflect.

Then, all at once Yeoj was on his back. He wasn’t sure how it had happened. Galion stood over him with a wide, toothy grin. Yeoj felt the heat from below ripping at his back. Then, a resounding crack tore through the shop. Yeoj felt weightless as the floor below him fell from under him and the walls twisted and warped inward. Galion yelled in defiance as the flames rose up around them both. Yeoj barely felt the impact on the ground floor before it too gave way and sent them both to the large basement beneath.

Yeoj’s senses rushed back to him in an instant as cool water encompassed his body. His back and head hit a solid surface, forcing the air from his lungs and compelling him to lurch upward. He gasped for breath and wiped his face. He quickly scanned his surroundings and realized that he was sitting in a large, iron basin filled with water. To his left was a huge, empty furnace and in front of him were racks with newly minted swords, shields, and spears. He turned to his right and saw a heavy workbench with several hammers and tongs strewn across it. Floorboards and other beams blanketed the entire room with red hot embers and billowing smoke.

Then there was the heat. The water had temporarily given him a reprieve, but now it blasted him as though he were in Hell’s Gate itself. He quickly dunked his body under the water again and came up, searching for Galion.

He saw the large Kuscan on the floor, with several gashes along his back and a pile of burning wood across his waist and legs. Yeoj jump over the side of the basin, and grabbed a hammer from the workbench. He brought it down on the Kuscan’s skull, ensuring the job was done. Then he looked around for a way out.

Another section of the floor above collapsed inward, burying the ladder that led up from the basement. The commotion parted the thick, black smoke enough for him to see the area above. Yeoj turned, scanning the area, but found no easy way out. The roof had collapsed and was propped precariously by the few sections of wall that remained strong against the fire. There didn’t appear to be any hand holds that weren’t already ablaze either. Then he looked back to the furnace. He ran over to it and started clearing old, dead ash from it. A few large beams crashed down into the water basin he had landed in, sending water everywhere, mixing steam with the smoke and ash as the flames hissed in protest.

Yeoj crawled inside the large kiln and looked up. He couldn’t clearly see the night sky through the chimney, but it did look big enough for him to try to escape through. Yeoj mouthed a silent prayer, placed his back against one side with his feet pressed into the stone in front of him. Then he placed his hands to the side and started to shimmy upward. The stone around him was hot, searing his fingers and stinging his back, but he knew it was either this or certain death in an imploding oven.

“LAND!” someone shouted from the deck. Talon rose to his feet and set the mysterious cube down on the table. He still hadn’t figured out what it was for. Dorder had found it rifling through the other goods and gave it to Talon. Both of them understood it was likely a magical object, but nothing in the ship gave any clue to where it came from, or what it was for. It didn’t open, had no markings along its smooth, black surface, and seemed little more valuable than a paperweight.

The door at the top of the stairs flung open and Dorder sauntered down. “We will be arriving shortly.” Dorder smiled wide as he surveyed the goods in the hold one more time. “Sure is nice doing business with you Mr. Silver.”

“Likewise,” Talon commented noncommittally.

Dorder walked over and reached out for the cube, glancing to Talon to make sure it was alright to do so before picking it up. “Figured out what it’s for yet?”

Talon sniggered. Why did Dorder expect him to know the answer? “No idea,” Talon replied.

Dorder turned it over in his hand. “Ever notice how it doesn’t get smudged by finger prints?” He set it down and pulled a mirror out of a nearby box. “See, if I touch the mirror, it leaves a smudge, but not on the cube.”

Talon shook his head. “Well, either way, it’s of no use to me. You can keep it.”

Dorder grinned ear to ear. “I could probably sell this for quite a bit of gold,” Dorder commented.

“You still have to figure out what it is,” Talon reminded him.

Dorder nodded and stroked his chin. “True, but I bet I can find someone who knows about it. Maybe I’ll poke around after we dock and see if I can’t drum up someone who can tell me about it.”

“I wouldn’t do that around here,” Talon said. “If it is magical, the elves will likely take it from you. Remember they are the only ones in this part of the world who still have any magical ability.”

“There was the mage we took this ship from,” Dorder put in.

Talon nodded. “A rarity, to be sure.” Talon crossed the hold and started up the stairs. “Either way, I would keep that cube and take it back to Kobhir with you. Look up a scholar there who specializes in artifacts.”

“I suppose,” Dorder said as he placed the cube back on the table.

Talon walked up the stairs and out into the soft, sea air. The sun was high overhead, but the heat was nothing like what it had been in Kobhir or Rasselin for that matter. Gulls flew quietly through the sky as clouds blew gently by, floating lazily above them.

A few of the men had been tying rigging off when he emerged, they all moved aside when he walked by. Talon grinned at their jumpiness. He could see most of the men were preparing the ship to dock. Others were either asleep or eating in the cabins.

A feeling of excitement washed over him as he saw Bluewater. The white stone buildings dotting the lush, green hillside surrounded by vibrant emerald forests almost took his breath away. He had spent all of his life on the larger, dryer continent. To see such vivid colors was something he never would have thought possible had he not stood there in that moment to witness it for himself.

“Quite a sight,” Dorder commented, closing the door to the hold behind him.

Talon regarded him and nodded with approval.  Dorder had changed from his normal clothes into fine silks that had been in the hold. “You change quickly,” Talon said.

“Well, I can’t very well pretend to be a merchant without looking the part,” Dorder responded. He brushed off his sleeve and inspected himself in the sunlight. “This feels a lot nicer than what I am used too.”

Talon walked toward the front of the ship and motioned for Dorder to follow him. “How long will you stay?” he asked.

Dorder shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard that lately there haven’t been as many traders willing to sail out here. We’ll see what kind of reception we get, and take our cues from the locals.”

“I could still use the rowboat to go ashore, if you think that would be wiser.”

“I’m not worried about it. Only Shausmat and Zinferth require official charters to trade. No one cares much who comes and goes to the Elven Isles.”

“For now,” Talon commented wryly.

“You know something I don’t?” Dorder asked cautiously.

Talon shook his head and put a hand on Dorder’s shoulder. “No, Captain Dorder, never mind. If you are confident that you will be well received, then let’s dock. I’ll even help with some of the boxes if you like.”

“Really?” Dorder asked surprised.

“No,” Talon said with a smirk.

Dorder and Talon shared a laugh and then Dorder went back to the rear of the ship, shouting at his men as he went. As soon as Dorder reminded them what waited for them on shore the men hustled about the ship with a new found zeal.

Talon turned back to watch Bluewater edge closer to him. The three days had been long. His thoughts, as they had for most of the voyage, centered again on Jahre, the old Nizhni’Tai sage. Talon expected the old elf must be well over six hundred years old. He wasn’t sure exactly how old Jahre was, but he knew that the elf was old enough to remember the days of magic. More importantly, Jahre had been alive when the Tomni’Tai Scroll had been made. Governor Gandle’s own research had confirmed that Jahre was the single elf with the most knowledge of the scroll, and the other relics Talon would need. To Talon, the fact that his current quest for the scroll would also allow him to exact revenge on Jahre for an old, life-altering, offense was beyond serendipitous. It was delectable.

It would not be as easy as finding the sage, Talon knew. According to Governor Gandle there was an elite order of elf soldiers, the Svetli’Tai Kruks, guarding Jahre and others who had knowledge of the Tomni’Tai Scroll to prevent it from ever falling into the wrong hands. Talon was not one to fear others, but he knew he would have to tread lightly.

The ship slowed and a couple of crewmen leapt down with ropes to dock the ship. Talon lurched forward slightly when the ship halted suddenly. A couple of men tied up the sails while another pair dropped the dual anchors into the crystal clear water below. Talon grabbed his coin purse, adjusted his sword belt and made for the gangplank before it was even secured.

Captain Dorder approached Talon with a large grin on his face. “Well, Mr. Silver, should ye ever be in need of a charter service again I would be honored if ye would call on us. Anywhere yer heart may desire, all I would require would be a nominal fee of say five pieces of silver.”

“Thank you captain, I will be sure to keep you in mind,” Talon replied. “However, I think for the amount of loot in the hold, plus the cube, any future trips I require will be for free.”

Dorder’s belly bounced as he chuckled. “Fair enough,” he replied. “Well, I will go have a chat with the dock manager. Wait here ‘til my men have everything off the ship.”

Talon watched Dorder saunter up to the tall, slender elf at the bottom of the gangplank. The elf wore a green cloak with brown buttons and black trousers, tucked into highly polished knee high leather boots. His long, silver hair was pulled tightly into a pony tail and a pair of delicate spectacles rested on his nose. Talon had never thought of an elf needing spectacles before since elves were renowned for impeccable eye sight.

The elf was eyeing the crew warily and holding a leather-backed ledger in his left hand. “I need the ship’s name, its captain’s name, and the boss’ name,” the elf instructed Dorder.

Dorder nodded and pulled a few gold pieces from his pocket and placed them on the ledger. “The boss and captain are one and the same. My name is Marmont, Levin Marmont. The ship is called Starlight,” Dorder lied.

The elf peered around Dorder and narrowed his eyes. “You have an interesting way to spell Starlight it seems,” the elf replied.

Talon leaned over the side and looked at the word “Isabell” painted plainly on the hull. He would have found a way to silence the dock manager, but Dorder beat him to it. Another five gold pieces landed on the ledger.

“The ship’s name is Starlight, I assure you,” Dorder said.

The elf held one of the gold coins up in the light, smiled, and then pocketed the money. “Well, sir, on behalf of the city of Bluewater I welcome you. You may instruct your crew to set up your wares in stall seven.” The elf turned and pointed to a tan building just beyond the docks. “They may enter through the back there. Each day you wish to remain docked and sell goods is going to cost an additional three gold pieces.”

“Three gold per day?” Dorder grumbled.

“One for docking, one for the stall rental, and one for the ‘name’ issue,” the elf replied smugly. “And don’t even think about causing any trouble around here. We may not have a garrison force like the larger cities on the main continent, but we have sufficient soldiers to handle anyone who comes here looking to stir things up.”

Dorder bristled. “Understood.” He then turned to his men along the ship. “Ye heard him men, stall seven is ours. Get this load up and displayed nicely, ya hear?”

The dock manager closed the ledger and walked back to his small desk at the end of the dock.

Talon walked down the planking carrying a long wooden box filled with tobacco leaves.

“Thought ya weren’t going to help?” Dorder spat.

“Just this one box,” Talon replied. “Don’t want that dock manager shaking me down for my name.”

Dorder touched his finger to his nose and smiled. “Good luck to ya, mate,” he offered.

“Same to you,” Talon responded.

Dorder watched Talon walk up the hill to the tan building. He disappeared through the back door and never reappeared. “Interestin’ feller,” Dorder commented to himself. He walked back up the gangplank and started directing his crew, deciding which boxes of goods would have the best likelihood to sell well.

Dorder then watched his men scurry back and forth like an army of oversized ants carrying crates and boxes of all sizes down the gangplank, across the docks, and then up into the tan building. He had to stop one of his men when he realized that his little black cube had been set on top of an open box of silk cloth. He snatched the cube back and then sent the man on his way with everything else.

Dorder turned the cube over in his hands, marveling at its simplicity and beauty. He pondered what it might be for, or who may have used it in times past. He thought again about hunting for an expert here on the Elven Isles that might be able to identify it, but Talon’s warning came to his mind. Dorder tucked the cube away in his pocket and then leaned against the railing while his men finished their work.

After about half an hour the crew finished unloading the crates and had returned to the ship for Dorder’s instructions. Once all of them were assembled Dorder smiled. “Well, this is one of those easy trips we always talk about,” he said with a laugh. His men cheered and laughed in response. “Hardly any fightin', no chases at sea, and we still get a king’s ransom!” The men cheered again. “So, ye dogs go and get some rest. Have fun while yer here, but keep yer noses clean. The elf folk ain’t as tolerant as the people in Kobhir are. Be back here by tomorrow at noon, and then we’ll discuss how to split up the proceeds from selling this junk off and how long we’ll be staying.”

“Captain,” one of the men interrupted.

“What is it?” Dorder grumbled.

“I see a ship, heading right for us.”

“Can’t be,” Dorder said. “No one knows we’re here.” He pushed through the men and took a spy glass from one of them. He extended the spyglass and looked through. “Zinferth flags,” Dorder mumbled.

“The navy is after us!” one of the men shouted.

“Pipe down,” Dorder yelled. “No one knows we’re here. They can’t be here for us!” Another crewman walked up and held out his hand for the spyglass. “Knock yerself out,” Dorder said as he plunked the spyglass into his open hand.

“I count thirty men along the deck,” he said. “Two ballista launchers near the bow, another one on the stern.” He swept the spyglass from side to side and then froze. “I now see two smaller ships flanking the first.”

“Impossible!” Dorder shouted. He grabbed the spyglass back and took a second look.

“Well, what is it?” one of the men asked.

 “That was fast,” Dorder muttered to himself. He tossed the spyglass back to the other crewman and turned to face the rest of his men. “Cast off men, get us out of here!” The crew scrambled to launch the ship. Dorder ran to the wenches with a pair of men and began drawing the anchors in while others simply hacked the rigging connecting the ship to the dock to expedite the process.

“What about the goods?” one of the crewmen shouted.

“Forget it dogs, get those sails up!” Dorder shouted.

The Isabell lurched away from the dock and started to rock gently with the waves coming in. Dorder rushed to the ship’s wheel and directed a pair of men to swing the sails out to catch the westerly wind. The ship started to turn, but Dorder knew that they would never make it. The Isabell had barely gone more than half a boat length away from the docks and the Zinferth ships were already most of the way to them.

“Captain, we have to turn the ship more if we want our ballista launchers to be of use,” one of the men shouted as he loaded a large missile into the port side launcher.