“And here I thought it was the fact I do not fail,” He said with a cold grin.
“That is the other reason,” she replied, pouring them both another glass of liquor.
This time is a little different, this time I need you to take care of someone outside LunaDwell.”
The assassin's eyes lit up at her words. Hunting inside the DokalFae’s cavernous home can pose its own challenges, but it’s streets, alleys, and even the secret entrances to most of the palaces of the nobles were all second nature to him now.
Going outside, now that is a challenge. Everything is new and fresh. No memorized sneaking, no network of spies, beggars, and thieves to toss a coin for information. Just his wits, his blades, and a burning desire to get the job done.
“Who’s the target?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear. Unable to hide his delight at this new adventure.
“I don’t know,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
“All I know is it’s a HoloFae my exiled son is using for one of his schemes. He is after the Dragons Heart, and I want it.” Allister listened calmly as she finished explaining what her son had told her about the gem and his plans.
As she finished and started to pour another glass, he held his hand up to stop her from filling his.
“So, you want me to find this HoloFae, follow him, then take the Heart before he can give it to Zannith, sound about right?” Allister asked as he stood to begin his hunt.
“Sounds exactly right,” she replied, leaning back comfortably in her chair.
“And if Zannith gets in the way?” Allister asked curiously as to how she would want him dealt with.
“He is of no consequence once you have the Heart.” She said, staring into her glass as if measuring the weight of her words.
That’s all I need to hear,” the assassin said as he bowed and quickly exited the room. No point asking anything else, her words left no room for misunderstanding. If Zannith Daltorea gets in his way, he will die.
Allister smiled once more; he always did like killing mages. For all their magic and spells, they rarely see a knife in the darkness.
The queen’s recollection of the Orc that traveled with Zannith is where he should start. Orcs are fierce and sturdy, but just like any other race, there is always a weak link. Find the one close enough to know Zannith’s plans, and he will find the information he needs to hunt this HoloFae.
As Allister strolled through the darkened street, he was nearly lost in his excitement. An unknown HoloFae, an exiled prince, and an Orc to interrogate.
He touched the goat head pendant tucked under his shirt and grinned wickedly, seems the lord of chaos had smiled on him this day.
17
West of Agnar forest across the ebony mountains, Zannith Daltorea stood outside the small village of Black Hearth. Named after the stone that is mined from the nearby mountains and used as the building material for most of their homes. It is a dirty looking place, made up of rock quarries and minors, etching out their hard-earned lives one long day at a time.
Zannith spit once on the ground in disgust then whispered the words that would cloak him from sight. The village was dark, and few oil lamps or torches were lit this time of night, but he wanted to make sure he was not seen.
Gru’Kar had protested his coming alone, but this was something the mage felt he should do himself. Besides, it was a family matter and not one to be shared with others. Especially those barbaric Orcs.
As Zannith walked through the town, he held up his hand, whispering another spell, and a small orb of light manifested itself in his palm. He tossed it into the air and watched as it streaked off down the street.
He followed as it darted from one doorway to another as if searching for something, finally coming to a stop outside one, particularly run-down home. With the flick of his hand, the latch on the door slid back. Zannith took one more look around to make sure he was alone then stepped inside.
Closing the door behind him, he listened for sounds of movement from inside the house. All he found were the sounds of a man’s snores and a woman’s raspy breathing. No doubt, both were caused by years of toiling in the mines.
He shook his head in disgust and made his way down the short hallway to where the two were sleeping. Once inside the room, he sat down at a small table next to the fireplace and poked at the coals that were still glowing faintly.
It wasn’t long before the sound of the metal poker striking the stone inside the fireplace woke the people in the bed. The man was the first to open his eyes, leaping from the bed in an attempt to reach the crossbow hanging on the wall next to his head.
Zannith smiled and whispered a word of power that brought the man to a halt. Searing pain shot through his head and forced him to the floor in agony, his loud moans causing the woman to sit up quickly in fear.
As her eyes adjusted to the light of the newly rekindled fire, she caught sight of Zannith sitting at the table.
Her golden eyes glinted and narrowed in the dim light as a look of fear crossed her face.
“Zannith? What are you doing here?” She asked, still sitting upright in the bed.
“Why, sister, it’s been so long, and this is how you greet me? I’m hurt.” He replied, grinning wickedly.
The woman on the bed, realizing her husband was still writhing on the floor, quickly moved the fingers of one hand in a circular motion, around the fingers of the other. As she did so, she whispered a spell of her own.
The pain that racked the poor man’s body lifted, and he coughed and choked on the air that returned to his lungs.
“Good to see you have not forgotten everything you learned, sister,” Zannith said with a slow clapping of his hands.
“What do you want, Zannith?” She asked again, angrily.
“I need your help with something,” he said far too casually for the dark elf woman to like.
The man on the floor slowly pulled himself onto the bed and looked at the strange DokalFae sitting at his table.
“You stay out of this human, this is between my sister and me. Otherwise, she won’t be able to save you next time.”
The woman on the bed touched the man’s shoulder and nodded for him to remain quiet. He started to protest, but the look from his wife and the smile on her brother’s face made him think twice.
“Did mother send you here to torment me?” She asked as she slid on her robe and stood next to the fire.
“Sister, you give yourself far too much credit. Our dear mother wrote you off for dead years ago.” The callousness of his words hurt her more than she would have liked, even if she knew they were correct.
“Then what do you want? We have nothing here, no money, no spellbooks; we just want to be left alone.” She said in an almost pleading manner, which only served to anger Zannith.
He watched her with cold eyes, despising the thought of any Daltorea, let alone his own sister, could ever be so weak.
“How’s the little HoloFae doing? Does he ever come to see his dear destitute mother?” The woman’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her son. She knew her brother well enough to know if he mentioned him, there had to be a reason.
“No, we haven’t seen him in years.” She replied in real sadness.
“Just couldn’t take the little half-blood anymore, huh? Had to pass him off to the Rangers? I don’t blame you. Even in this hovel of a town, you have to keep some dignity, right?” He chided with that wicked grin still spread across his face.
“That wasn’t it, you bastard!” She screamed at him in anger.
“We wanted him to have a better life than we do. He is unique; no other DokalFae can do what he can. Because no other has ever wielded forest magic. Not even you, Zannith.