Obsidian Ridge - Jess Lebow [26]
Still, something wasn't right. And after waiting in the courtyard for some time, he started to get concerned. The sun would be coming up soon, and with every passing moment, the chances of meeting the princess were growing smaller.
The Claw's long day had become even longer. As he slipped out the way he had come, he glanced up at the stone carving of the queen.
"I'll find her," he said.
Then he headed down the thinly paved road toward the docks-the stomping grounds of Llorbauth's underworld.
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The shadows near the Obsidian Ridge seemed unnaturally dark. Even in the dead of night, the looming citadel cast a pall over the homes and lives of everyone in Llorbauth.
Though he was still quite a ways away, traversing the road from the palace to the docks was the closest the Claw had been to the hulking mountain. More than simple blackness, or even the foreboding sense of unease that it gave off, there was power here. Great power. He couldn't be certain, but he could have sworn he heard a high-pitched humming, as if the entire citadel were vibrating, pushing the air around it.
Moving cautiously through the trees and brush along the side of the road, the king's assassin froze in his tracks.
He heard voices carrying on the wind. At least two, maybe more. He stopped to listen. They were gruff and deep, and it sounded as if they were just up ahead.
Slipping quietly through the brush, he approached what appeared to be two men. Both on horseback, they sat in their saddles, looking this way and that in the middle of a tight curve on the main road.
"They better get here soon," said one. "I'm not all that happy about waiting for our Elixir in the shadow of that… thing."
"Nor am I," replied the other.
Moving in a little closer, the Claw crouched in the heavy brush only a few steps away. From this part of the road, neither the palace nor the entrance to the docks were visible- the ideal location for an illicit rendezvous.
"Do you hear that?" asked one of the men.
The Claw didn't move. His heart raced. He'd been preoccupied with the Obsidian Ridge. Had he given himself away?
"I heard nothing," said the other.
"No, listen," insisted the first. "Coming from the docks."
The sound of horses drifted in off the water and mingled with the breeze rustling the leaves. Then a coach came into view. A driver and a guard sat up front, side by side on a single wooden bench. Both jingled with chain mail.
The carriage had two compartments, a traditional one right behind the driver, and another attached to the top for more important passengers. The upper box had curtains across its windows. The Claw recognized the coach. It had been custom made, and there was only one like it in the kingdom.
The man inside was one of the most notorious wizards-for-hire in all of Erlkazar. He had cashed in on the Elixir trade, traveling from town to town, selling bottled potions to the highest bidder. But unlike many of the cheats and swindlers, this man sold the real deal.
His potions were magical all right-dark magic. Those who swallowed the Elixir would find themselves transported to another time and place. They would have their euphoric trance, but often they never came out of it. Those who did come out became hopelessly addicted, needing to get more and more.
The coach reached the curve in the road and slowed as it reached the two men on horseback. Leaping from his crouch out of the trees the Claw somersaulted onto the dirt road in front of the carriage. Two quick flips of his wrist severed the leather straps holding the horses' halters to the shafts. Startled by the sudden appearance of a masked, bladed figure, the horses immediately bolted, galloping down the road tethered together but free of their wheeled burden.
"What in the-" shouted one guard.
"We're under attack!" hollered the other.
No longer attached to the horses, the coach came