Read The Tomni'Tai Scroll (Book 1) Online
Authors: Sam Ferguson
Bushes and leaves rustled and crackled as something emerged toward him. Something large and hairy gripped his shoulder and pummeled him to the ground. The beast growled and gnashed its teeth as Talon struggled with his right forearm pressed into the animal’s throat. A hind leg stepped on Talon’s left shin, pinning his leg to the ground. Talon couldn’t see anything, but judging from the weight he knew the beast must have been massive. Talon wriggled his left arm around, holding the mini crossbow to the beast’s side and fired.
The beast arched back and flung Talon into the tree trunk with its massive paw. Talon absorbed the impact and rolled away. He drew his sword in a flash and held it at the ready.
He could hear it growling and pacing around him. From what he could tell, the crossbow had simply annoyed the thing. It scraped the ground with its paws as it moved around to Talon’s left.
“Come on, demon,” Talon whispered. “Let’s dance.”
The beast responded with a deep, throaty yowl that pierced Talon’s ears. Then, Talon caught a glimpse of two yellow orbs in the darkness. The beast growled again and then scratched the ground in front of it with one paw.
He heard it run toward him. Each footstep dropped to the ground with a thump as it closed in. Then, there were no footsteps. Talon realized it had lunged again. He wheeled around the back of a tree just as the beast slammed into its trunk. It howled out in frustration and swiped at Talon with a massive paw. One of the claws caught his cloak and nearly dragged him to the ground before he wrestled free. Talon countered with a strike of his own and caught flesh with his sword.
The beast hissed and stumbled backward. The two yellow orbs became visible again as the beast growled. Talon knew he wouldn’t be able to finish the fight unless he could see, so he carefully made his way for the torch. He had his flint in his hand and only had to land a spark on the oil to increase his odds.
The footsteps stopped again. Talon rushed for the torch and struck the side of his blade with the flint. A shower of sparks hissed and cackled against the night, but none of them found their mark. A massive blow sent Talon careening end over end down a small hill, and into a thicket of briars that ripped and jabbed at his arms and shoulders. The beast was not far away. It stalked him slowly through the brush.
Talon, tangled in the briars, let go of his sword and reached for the oil in his tinder kit. He opened it quickly and held it in his left hand. Then he used his left pinky finger to hold the flint in his left hand, just under the bottle of oil.
The beast closed in. Bushes and twigs snapped and cracked in its wake. Talon quickly pulled a dagger with his right hand and lashed out just as the beast lunged forward with its maw gaping wide. Talon’s dagger went into the soft tissue in the beast’s mouth, just behind its upper row of fangs. A few teeth poked through his wrist bracer from the bottom, but Talon held fast. The beast writhed and jerked, trying to free itself from Talon’s dagger, but Talon would not let go.
The briars ripped and pierced through Talon’s shoulders and back as he was jolted this way and that by the beast in its attempt to shake loose. The assassin quickly threw his other hand in the beast’s mouth, pouring the oil as far in as he could. Then, he released the bottle and struck his flint against the dagger. The first time failed, as the beast twisted its head and nearly knocked the flint out of Talon’s hand. The second strike spewed a couple of weak sparks that momentarily illuminated the pink and black maw just above Talon’s face. The sparks died amidst the saliva streaming from the beast’s fangs. The third strike hit home.
A shower of sparks hit the oil and took flame instantly. Talon quickly released his hold on the dagger and pulled both of his hands free. The beast roared in agony as it fought against the burning oil. It swatted its face with its paws, and tried several times to bite down, despite the dagger stuck in its pallet. As it squirmed and jolted around, Talon grabbed his sword and cut himself free of the briars. He was not going to let this beast get another chance at him.
The fire fully engulfed the beast’s catlike face now. It slammed its head against the ground and trees in a vain attempt to beat the fire into submission. Talon sneered and walked up along the beast’s side. He raised his sword high over his right shoulder and came down with all of his might. As his sword connected with the back of the beast’s neck, Talon pulled the blade back, adding a deft slicing motion to his chop. The flaming head came free of the beast and the body twitched backward, flames puffing out from the neck hole where some of the oil had gone down its throat.
Talon then replaced his sword and kicked the burning head toward the road. He spent the next little while gathering some firewood and building a fire in the road off of the beast’s flaming head. To his surprise, the fire did not have an unpleasant odor at all. As the hair and head burned it smelled only of grilled meat, not that he intended to take a bite of course, but at least he wouldn’t have to endure the usual smell of burning flesh.
Talon piled a few more branches on the fire and also set the torch he had made behind him. He would use it once he was finished. After the fire was built up and he had better light to see with, he went to work removing the thorns and briars that had lodged themselves in his clothing and skin. It was a painful, slow process, but it would have to be done before he arrived at the Scholar’s Keep.
More than a couple times he heard rustling in the bushes, but whether it was the light of the fire, or perhaps the already dead carcass in the forest, something prevented anything else from coming near Talon. Still, he kept his sword at the ready just in case.
Judging by the dying fire, Talon surmised that a couple of hours had passed by the time he pulled the last of the thorns free. He noticed that one of the beast’s fangs had fallen loose and sat in the dying embers. Talon used his dagger to flip it out of the fire. “A foe like this is to be remembered,” Talon commented as he flipped the fang into his coin purse.
Then he stood up and grabbed the torch. He put the end into the fire and began walking down the road again after it was lit.
Talon smiled when his torchlight illuminated a white, stone obelisk on the side of the road. It was only a few feet tall, and hardly bigger around than a sapling spruce tree, but it still filled him with excitement.
He looked along the left hand side of the road, searching for an unmarked path. Soon he found a foot trail, much narrower than the road, but he decided to take it all the same. He extinguished his torch, not wanting to signal his presence to the guards before he was ready to make his move. He silently hoped that he wasn’t inviting another night prowler to attack him as soon as the flame died.
His luck held up, and nothing followed or attacked him from then on. He stalked along the trail until he spied light through the trees. As he closed in he left the trail and picked his way through the trees to get a closer look. He smiled when he saw the Scholar’s Keep. Talon studied the building eagerly. It was a single tower with one door at its base and a window about thirty feet above the ground. A pair of guards stood in front of the door. Flanking the portal were large horns hanging on the wall as sconces lighting up the immediate area around the entrance. Talon couldn’t see them very clearly, as they were some fifty yards away, but he could tell they were Svetli’Tai Kruks. The guards wore long, flowing scarlet robes and had long curved scimitars hanging from their sides. Their silver hair was pleated in a single braid down their backs and they each held a great spear as they stood watch.
Talon moved his eyes back to the tower. It was centuries old. Ivy clung to the cracks between the stones where the mortar had decayed away. Some of the ivy had grown so thick that instead of vines it looked as if a tree’s roots ran up the entire tower. Even still, Talon doubted he would be able to climb to the window. There was a balcony at the top of the tower, with another guard standing watch there. There were some tall, sturdy trees he could climb, but the limbs had been trimmed away around the tower. There was no way for him to go up, unless he went inside.
Talon sat still in the brush, thinking of all possible options. As he sat, he listened to the night sounds and caught the hint of a babbling stream. He remembered that the elf lady had mentioned a brook that went over the main road. Talon mused that if the tower had been used as a guard tower previously, then perhaps they would have built a drain for it. He quietly backed away and slipped to the south. He only had to go about twenty yards before he found the stream. It was a bit larger than he had anticipated. It spanned twenty feet across and looked like it was about five feet deep in some places.
He smiled to himself and then turned upstream. He carefully scanned the rocks and ground until he came to an old, rusted grate. He might have missed it had the heel of his boot not broken through a thin crust of dirt to slip between the gaps. He bent down and began clearing away the overgrowth. After a few minutes he found a crude, rusted lock. He gave it a tug with his hand and found it was still strong. However, the grate itself moved slightly. Talon felt with his left hand along the edges and then realized that the old, iron casing the grate was built into had rusted through part way.
Talon pulled a long, thick rock from the stream and wedged it into the opening in the iron pipe. He stomped on it a few times with his boot, sneering in delight as the grate loosened farther and farther. From what he could tell, if he could get it open, the pipe was large enough to allow him to pass. He searched for a long branch and lodged it in the grate next to the stone. He leaned back on the top end of the lever and tugged with all of his might. The grate popped and creaked before finally snapping loose. The metal grate flopped all the way into the stream, making a mild splash. Talon then bent low to inspect the pipe.
As he neared it he could smell the rotten, mildewy odor associated with such pipes, but he couldn’t let that stop him. He quietly put his feet into the water and felt around for the bottom of the pipe. To his delight, he found the pipe itself was about three feet in diameter. He quickly removed his tinder kit and mini crossbow and placed them on the bank in front of him. Then, he felt with his hands along the inside of the pipe. There were only a few inches of air above the water level, from what he could tell, and there was no way for him to know what he might encounter further on. There was also no guarantee it would open up to the inside at all. For all he knew it could just be a small hole or drain on the inside. Talon sighed. He was already wet, he figured he may as well see where it went and hope for the best.
He placed a dagger in his mouth, took a breath and submerged himself, using his hands to pull himself forward in the dark tunnel. The water was slightly warmer than the rest of the stream, though Talon didn’t dwell on the possible reasons for that. He simply kept moving along, feeling and groping with his hands and fighting the current. He almost lost his grip once when he recoiled from a mushy, fuzzy mass that his fingers had latched onto. He kept his place by driving his feet into the sides and holding on with his other hand while he pressed his nose and mouth above the water for a breath.
The air was hot, humid, and sour. After two quick breaths he pushed on. The pipe curved to his right and got a little smaller. He could still fit, but his elbows and knees knocked the sides if he wasn’t careful. He moved faster now, swimming and pulling himself upward as the pipe sloped up.
Suddenly the pipe twisted straight up and grew smaller. Talon placed the palms of his hands against each side and used his feet to propel upward as his hands held him from losing ground. His lungs started to beg for air as he forced his body up. He could see light from above. He knew there had to be air soon. His chest began to burn and he had to shift holding air between his mouth and lungs to trick his body into believing he was breathing.
Up he went. The pipe opened up into a smooth, rock bowl about as deep as he was tall, but at least was able to move his arms freely. He launched his arms into wide strokes, focusing on the yellow light above the surface. When he was finally out of the drain pipe he kicked his feet rhythmically, adding momentum with each stroke.
It may have only been another fifteen seconds from that point that he reached the surface, but it was all he could do to keep from gasping. He exhaled and sucked in a breath of fresh air as he fanned his arms out around him.
He looked around and grinned. Water was coming from a natural underground stream to his left, and above him was a large wooden bucket attached to a rope. The bucket was separated from him by a covering of iron, but the door for the bucket was left open. Talon was in a well.
The iron grate was about three and a half feet above the water, and he couldn’t reach it. He would have to gain leverage another way. He swam toward the mouth of the underground stream and groped along the wall for a handhold. He didn’t need much, just a foot or two above the water level would be enough.
Finally he found a crack in the stone wall and pulled himself up. It took a couple of tries to get his feet under him without having them slip out from beneath him, but he eventually managed to find a support. Then he slowly arched backward and reached back with his right arm while clinging to the handhold with his left.
His fingertips squished against the inside of the crevice and his arm flexed solid, holding him precariously above the water. His right hand inched ever nearer the iron grate. His fingertips just managed to slide and curl around one of the crossbars. Talon smiled and launched himself backward, thrusting his left hand at the grate and tucking his legs up under him, trying not to make a very loud splash through the water.