Paul Kemp - Twilight Falling

"I'll kill you slowly if you do," Vraggen said.

Cale heard the worry behind the mage's bravado. Vraggen wanted the half-sphere badly.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I'll split you groin to gullet. Either way, you'll not have what you want."

Vraggen's jaw tightened. His fingers whitened around the wand. A halo of shadows swirled around his head. Cale could fairly see his mind churning.

"Destroy the globe and the guard from Stormweather Towers will die. Painfully, I promise you. Will you be able to live with the knowledge that you caused him so much pain?"

The mage spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone that Cale knew the threat to be no bluff. Azriim looked to Cale and chuckled.

Cale would have torn out his tongue if he could have. From behind, Riven, breathing heavily, said, "Bugger these whoresons, Cale. Do it."

He lunged at the easterner-a bluff designed to elicit a start. The easterner didn't move a muscle, merely eyed him coolly.

"Quiet your dog, Cale," said Vraggen, his eyes still on Cale's sword.

Riven said nothing but Cale could imagine the hateful sneer he shot the mage.

Cale reached a decision quickly. The mage was right. He would not be able to live with himself if he brought harm to Ren. That left only one course: he would arrange for the trade he had anticipated all along. But he wanted to know what the sphere was before he turned it over-if he turned it over.

"This," Cale said, and lightly tapped the half-sphere with his sword, an act that elicited a wince from Vraggen, "for the guard. Two days from now, at the eighth hour, at the Twisted Elm north of the High Bridge."

A common location for meetings, the Twisted Elm was a well known landmark along the north road, not far out of Selgaunt and surrounded by an expanse of flat plain. It would be easy to avoid an ambush there. Rumors said the Elm's roots craved blood; Cale suspected the rumors had their origin in meetings gone bad. A lot of blood had been spilled under the Elm's eaves.

Vraggen's brow furrowed. He fiddled with the wand, as though trying to decide if he could use it on Cale before Cale could strike the half-sphere.

"You are not in a position to be requesting terms, Erevis Cale," he said at last.

Cale knew he had the advantage then. He almost smiled … almost.

"I'm not requesting anything, mage. I'm telling you how this is going to unfold. You want this half of the sphere much more than I want the guard safely returned."

That was a lie, but Vraggen wouldn't know it.

"If that was true, you'd have destroyed it already. Do you take me for a fool, Cale?"

"Try me then," Cale challenged and again raised his blade.

For a moment, Vraggen said nothing, but Cale could see his mind racing behind his emotionless eyes, could almost hear him grinding his teeth.

"Two days hence, then," Vraggen managed to say without anger.

Cale allowed himself to exhale.

Indicating Azriim and the easterner, he said, "And if I catch sight of these errand boys in the meantime, I destroy my half on the spot. Then I come for you."

At that, Vraggen gave a tight smile. Azriim too grinned broadly, and Cale saw that he had perfect teeth. From behind and just to Cale's right, the easterner spat a glob onto Cale's boot.

Cale looked at it, looked at the easterner …

Quick as an adder, Cale lashed out with his right hand, grabbed the easterner by the cloak, and jerked him in close before he could bring his falchion to bear.

"Next time those are teeth you're spitting," he said, and he shoved the man, stumbling, past Jak and toward the mage.

The easterner quickly recovered his balance, if not his dignity. He whirled around and started to advance on Cale, snarling. Vraggen reached out a hand and held him back. The man stared hate at Cale.

It was Riven's turn to chuckle.

"Leave," ordered Cale. "We're operating on my terms now, and this little party is over."

"For now," Azriim said, and his smile disappeared.

With exaggerated care, Vraggen replaced the wand into the folds of his cloak.

"We shall do this your way for now, Erevis Cale," the mage said, "but before we part, let me leave you with a reminder of the price the guard will pay if you do not turn the remainder of the globe over to me."

He nodded to Azriim and the half-drow's grin returned.

You will love this, said his voice in Cale's head.

Slowly, so as not to give alarm, Azriim reached into an inner pocket of his cloak and withdrew something wrapped in a silken handkerchief. Cale's stomach churned.

When Azriim unveiled the severed fingers that lay within, the half-drow's grin widened. He cast them to the road, near Cale's feet. The easterner smirked, though his gray eyes remained hard. Vraggen showed no emotion but his cloak pin, shaped like a jawless skull, seemed to leer.

"Those are three of his fingers, Cale," the mage said. "Next time, it shall be his tongue. After that, only Savras can say. But you should know that I can maintain his life for some time even while removing substantial amounts of flesh, which I will do, if necessary. And after that, I will come for you." Vraggen fixed his gaze on Cale. "Do not trifle with me, Cale. Is it clear to you that I am in earnest?"

It was, but Cale would not give the bastard the satisfaction of an acknowledgement.

"You were leaving, I believe," said Cale.

Vraggen looked past Cale to Riven and said, "You could join me, Drasek. We were both Zhents once, allies even. I could use you now, and I can pay you well."

Riven sneered, "You couldn't pay me enough. Self-important dolts like you are the reason I left the Network in the first place."

Vraggen's eyes went hard. His lips twisted into a contemptuous smile.

"I frightened you the last time we met, did I not, Riven? Probably left you teary eyed in the street, bawling like a babe. Next time you won't come back from that place."

Riven started toward the wizard and said, "Frighten? Let me show you how frightened-"

Cale grabbed Riven's cloak and stopped the assassin's advance. Riven didn't take his eye off the wizard.

"Take your hand off me, Cale."

Cale could feel the tension in the assassin's body.

"Not now, Riven." He shook him once, hard. "Not now. But that time will come."

Riven looked at him, let his body relax, then looked back to Vraggen.

"You're already dead, mage," the assassin said. "And you'll never see me coming. After this little bit with the sphere is over, you'd better sleep with one eye open."

Vraggen stared holes at them and said, "After this is over, I won't sleep at all."

Cale had no idea what that meant, but he'd had enough.

"Leave," he ordered.

Vraggen looked to Cale, smiled, and nodded at Riven.

"It is well that you can control your dog, Cale," he chuckled. "But, as you said, we were leaving. Azriim, gather up our dog and let us be on our way."

Cale thought Vraggen wanted Azriim to retrieve Dolgan's corpse, but to Cale's utter amazement, Dolgan was still alive. The big man's leg twitched. He gave a. wet groan. His armor and tunic were stained dark with enough blood to fill a well bucket but somehow he still breathed. Cale couldn't believe it. His blow would have felled an ogre.

"Trickster's hairy toes," Jak breathed, and he shrank away from the big man.

Azriim sheathed his blade, stepped forward without a hint of wariness-Cale or Jak could have stabbed him through the chest-and helped Dolgan to his feet. Inexplicably, the wounds Cale had dealt the big man had already stopped bleeding.

"Hurt?" Azriim asked him.

"Yes." Dolgan gave Cale a leer. Blood caked his teeth and mouth. "But it's a good hurt."

"Mind the clothes," Azriim said, and he held the big man at arm's length to keep Dolgan's bloodstained tunic away from his finery.