The Dark Elf knew if these sea-dwellers were half the predator he was, they would know when to remain hidden. He stopped at sixty-seven paces. Sixty-seven paces to Lewd’s personal fortress just as he had counted in the Old Mino Quadrant. He traced his hand along the wall searching for some sort of secret or back entrance, but found none. He saw water trickling through several large iron gratings in the walls. The water funneled down into small catch-basins in the walkway which drained into the main canals.
Shade squatted next to the nearest grate in the moldy sewer wall. He pulled at the old rusty bars encouraged at how loose and corroded they were when he suddenly stopped. The tunnel behind the grate held no light because it had been bricked up. Only a small gap not much larger than two square feet remained beneath the bricks to permit water flow. He hurried over to the next grating and noticed the same thing. He checked three or four more, but no luck. Lewd must have walled off these channels long ago. Shade sat back puzzled. What was he going to do now?
Shade’s head snapped down to the far end of the tunnel. He thought he heard another noise, although this time it didn’t sound like the breaking of water, but the batting of large leathery wings. He stared long and hard down the windswept back passage, but saw nothing. How odd. A deep guttural scream bounded off the walls from the opposite direction, trailing off in the darkness.
He spun back around, but saw nothing save the violent lapping of water against the slimy green-bricked canal. The echo had come from a long way down the corridor. The constant surging of water made it difficult to measure the exact distance, but the assassin judged he had a little more time to carry out his search.
Shade felt along the walls. He examined every square inch. He watched his flank out of the corner of his eye.
He heard again the flap of leathery wings, much too loud to be a bat of any kind. He was being hunted. This time he did not turn around, but persisted in his work. With any luck his pursuer would wrongly assume Shade could not hear him over the swelling tide. Another distant scream, a shrill throat-tearing scream cut through the darkness. This time far closer.
Shade didn’t like the situation one bit. He was a Faelin used to being in command of his environment and here he was surrounded. A dark and mysterious foe trailed him and the Sharlak cut off any hope of escape in the opposite direction. Sharlak were the terror of the northern seas. They lived most of their lives in the ocean, but were amphibious and known from coming ashore for their fill of flesh. Much argument persisted along the coasts whether Sharlak might actually be a tribe of mortal cannibals, but they fed in far too many frenzies. Sailors boasted that Sharlak could rend the flesh off a man’s bones before he drowned.
The assassin had never actually seen a Sharlak and he grew increasingly uneasy with his present set of circumstances. He knew the importance of knowing one’s enemy and the Sharlak was an enemy whose ways remained shrouded beneath the big blue veil of the ocean. ‘Death smiles over the shoulder of the ignorant,’ as his old master, Sadora, used to say.
Shade smiled too and reminisced over his former master’s dark words. Perhaps this was the trial he awaited. Perhaps he needed to be tried in the deepest recesses of his being, tested by creatures cloaked in as much darkness and mystery as him. Perhaps death would at last find the courage to sneak up suddenly upon him and show its cold dark face.
Shade passed a small alcove filled with rusty old pipes and a drippy valve. He stopped and held up his torch. Empty. He was about to take a step in when he heard another heart-rending scream echo down the main passageway. He turned back to the tunnel and took several steps down the walkway. A dark figure broke through the darkness, from the direction of the scream, less than a hundred yards off. The figure ran at a mad pace, clopping clumsily across the stones, wheezing hard.
Wings flapped behind the assassin again. He spun around sensing danger. He saw nothing behind him. He reexamined the alcove. He held his torch high and crouched deceptively low behind the side wall. He spun back around the corner prepared to drive his blade deep into his stalker’s heart. He froze.
A towering seven-foot horned figure loomed in the darkness of the alcove. He held his torch up. His heart jumped. The torchlight revealed the snarling scaled gray face and horned head of a Drakor. Its serpentine eyes stared back at him. An ugly grimace froze on its face. The dragon-man’s great wings draped gloriously about its tall frame, but it remained perfectly still. Shade furrowed his brow. A statue? Strange he had not noticed it before. He felt the statue’s chiseled face with his dagger and then confirmed it with his thumb. Stone. ‘Where had this statue come from?’ he wondered, ‘How had he missed it before?’
“HEEELP MEEEEE!” the other figure screamed. The heavy clopping of boots echoed down the long dark corridor. He was nearly upon the puzzled assassin.
Shade dropped his torch on the walkway and readied another blade. He could almost discern the runner’s face when he felt a sudden rush of wind behind him. The assassin whirled instinctually around expecting his unseen foe to fall upon him, but found only that same empty and eerie alcove. He feared that he had made a fatal mistake and that his foe hid behind the statue, but then he saw the most horrifying sight yet …the statue was gone.
Yessheeran led his master down the long abandoned tunnel between the Old Mino and Doelm Quadrants. Warlord Lewd’s nervous gaze flickered about. He wondered whether he might ever feel safe again. He was escorted by his two bodyguards and another fifty of his most loyal subjects, but his safety and security gave him a cold shoulder like a wayward lover.
The situation infuriated him. He was the most powerful criminal in the Kurn underworld and he had been reduced to cowering like a frightened dog. He had considered executing some of his men to make an example to the rest of the organization, but he realized now was not the best time for thinning ranks. But now the tables had turned. He would show this cocky Dark Elven braggart he was the true master of his domain. And the legendary Shade would soon learn just how deadly his underground playground could be.
Warlord Lewd pulled the woman’s cloak he used to disguise himself further down over his face. His gross yellow eyes burned in stoked humiliation. Women only traveled the Kurn sewers cloaked. Only harlots regularly chanced the sewers and they always traveled with a host of bodyguards on the payroll of a local brothel.
Lewd flashed a razor sharp glare at Kishrub and Zulbash who were bandaged from head to toe. Why had he even bothered to take these two lumbering idiots along? Their presence ruined everything. Of course, he would not have this problem if they had done their job! He seethed in frustration, breathed out deeply and refocused. At least he could place his faith in his handpicked servant.
Lewd’s best had tracked Shade a half hour ago into the Sharlak Quadrant or the Shark Tunnels as they were better renowned. The Sharlak Quadrant wasn’t counted among the other quadrants since its tunnels were abandoned and could never be claimed by any civilized race. Instead, it was gated off to keep out the bloodthirsty amphibious monsters known as Sharlak that swam in from the ocean.
Warlord Lewd had a number of trapdoors in his palace he used for dumping unwanted guests into the Shark Tunnels. One of his favorite pastimes was watching his chief offenders be ripped limb from limb by these savage monsters. Not many victims made it past the viewing window. The Sharlak devoured their prey that quick. Lewd reminisced over his disappointment over the Doelm thief he had recently dumped in the Shark Tunnels. The Doelm had actually made it out of view.