Paul Kemp - Twilight Falling

Cale's plan called for Jak to kill Vraggen after Ren was safe, but Jak feared Vraggen would take the lad apart piece by piece first.

"He is held immobile by my spell, Cale," Vraggen said, "but I assure you, he sees, hears, and feels all that is transpiring. Imagine the agony he felt when his fingers were severed, the pain only compounded by his inability to scream."

"Three," Cale said. He gripped his blade tightly and stared holes into Vraggen.

The mage stuttered in surprise, but managed to recover quickly.

"V–Very well." He called over his shoulder, "Again, Azriim. His hand."

Jak didn't want to watch but found himself transfixed. Dolgan, Serrin, and the woman also seemed enthralled by the war of wills in which Ren's flesh was the battlefield.

The half-drow grabbed Ren by the wrist and extended his arm, as though he meant to chop it off at the elbow. Ren remained exactly as Azriim posed him. His appearance brought tears of sympathy and rage to Jak's eyes. His face was bruised and swollen. He had been badly beaten and the stumps of his fingers pointed accusingly at Jak, seeping blood.

Azriim raised his blade high. His mismatched eyes looked through Jak and asked the question of Vraggen.

Just as the mage was about to nod, just as Azriim's shadowed eyes glowed bright with the thought of doing violence, Cale, as calm as the Dragon Sea doldrums, stated above the rain, "Four." He raised his blade.

Vraggen blinked and froze. In that instant, Jak knew that Cale had won. Jak wondered how far Cale would have let it go.

The mage whirled to face Cale squarely.

Cale's expression was veiled by his mask, but Jak suspected it was tortured. Ren had paid the price for Cale's victory. Jak knew why Cale had donned the mask in the first place.

"Don't you dare do it, Cale," Vraggen commanded, and he signaled Azriim to stand down.

With a disappointed sigh, the half-drow lowered his blade. Jak exhaled-he had not realized that he'd been holding his breath-but softly, so that the sound of his breathing would not give him away.

Cale too lowered his blade, though he set its edge on the sphere. Shadows danced between the crystal and the steel.

"Now that we understand each other, mage, bring me Ren. Now!"

"Bring him," Vraggen said to Azriim, his voice tight.

With surprising strength, the half-drow wrapped his arm around Ren and dragged him forward. Jak scrambled aside, eyeing him as he passed. He could have buried his short sword in the half-drow's neck.

When Azriim brought Ren up near Vraggen, the mage held up a hand adorned with two silver rings.

"That's as far as he goes," Vraggen said, eyeing Cale. "No more negotiations. Give the half-globe to Dolgan or Azriim will slit the guard's throat right now."

For a moment, Cale said nothing. Under the eaves of the Twisted Elm, it seemed as though the world was holding its breath. Rain pattered through the leaves.

"Done," Cale said at last, and Jak knew that Cale was counting on him to do something. Cale kneeled and picked up the half-sphere. "Riven, get Ren."

The assassin started forward, both sabers at the ready.

"The globe, Dolgan" said Vraggen.

The big man, his ring mail chinking and his axe in hand, moved toward Cale.

Riven and Dolgan gave each other a wide berth as they passed, but each eyed the other darkly.

Jak flew closer to Vraggen. The mage's blurry, shifting outline made choosing a vital spot to strike less than exact, but Jak did the best he could. As soon as Riven secured Ren, Jak would make his move.

As Riven strode past the easterner and the woman, he locked eyes with the man and shot him a sneer.

"We'll get our dance yet, dog," Riven said to the easterner. "Never fear."

The little easterner only smirked and ran a thumb along his falchion blade.

Riven reached Ren at the same moment that Dolgan reached Cale.

"Take your hands off him," the assassin said softly to Azriim, "or I'll take your hands off you."

Azriim grinned and unhanded Ren. Riven glared at Vraggen. There was no fear in his one eye.

At that moment, Jak loved Riven.

Dolgan took the half-sphere from Cale in the same instant.

Gracefully, with his eye on the half-drow and Vraggen throughout, Riven sheathed one saber, bent at the waist and scooped the mutilated guard over a shoulder. He staggered under the burden.

"Heavy?" asked Azriim.

"Sod off," Riven hissed.

Glaring at the half-drow, he slowly began backing off. The woman and the easterner slid out wide as he approached.

With only a passing glance at the sphere, Dolgan turned, threw it to Vraggen, and backed a step away from Cale. The mage caught it and spoke a word of power. Instantly, the other half of the globe materialized in his free hand. He placed the two together and held them up to Azriim, who stepped to his side.

The half-drow studied the whole globe for only a heartbeat or two before he nodded.

"I have it now," Azriim said. He looked up and took a step toward Riven, then another.

Dark! Jak knew then that this was going to go bad. He alit on the ground only a short distance behind Vraggen-he wanted the leverage afforded by solid earth under his feet. He stalked forward, as silent as a tomb.

Riven sensed it too, but he was caught in the no-man's-land between the easterner and the woman on the one hand, and Vraggen and Azriim on the other. Jak saw that Riven's knuckles were white around his saber hilt.

The easterner and the woman also took a step toward him, cutting off his avenue to Cale.

Dolgan looked at Vraggen, looked at Cale, looked back to Vraggen. He reminded Jak of a Calishite racing shorthorse waiting to lunge from the stable.

Jak continued to close on the mage. Five strides. Four.

Vraggen smiled mirthlessly-a tight hard line that looked nearly a grimace-and said, "Our business is concluded, Cale."

Three strides. Two. One.

"So now you die," said Vraggen.

The mage grabbed an iron rod from an inner pocket of his cloak and began to incant.

Jak drew back his blades to strike.

"Now!" he shouted, and drove his steel with a snarl into the blurred image of the mage.

His invisibility spell instantly dispelled as he attacked. His dagger found only air, but his short sword bit into flesh and grated against ribs. Jak shoved it home, burying half the blade into Vraggen's ribcage. The magical words on the mage's lips gave way to a surprised gasp and a grunt of pain. He collapsed to his knees, dropping the sphere. Jak pulled back his dagger and stabbed hard for the spot right beside his short sword-

— and Vraggen vanished with a soft pop. Air rushed to fill the void the mage had just vacated. The momentum from Jak's stab sent him off balance but he caught himself with a fist on the wet ground.

Contingency spell, his mind registered. Vraggen must have pre-programmed a transport spell to teleport him away if he was badly wounded. Blast and burn!

Combat exploded around him.

Riven tossed Ren to the ground and jerked his other saber from it scabbard, just as the easterner and the woman rushed him with blades held high. Riven, not waiting to be flanked, bounded left and met the woman's charge with one of his own. His blades whirled so fast they hummed.

Taken aback by Riven's onslaught, the woman tried to abort her charge. She slipped on the rain-slick grass and fell. Riven took one cut at her but she rolled aside with only a nick. Before he could try another, the easterner was upon him.

Meantime, Dolgan lunged forward, axe held high, and took an overhand swing at Cale that could have split a fence post. Cale thumped the axe's haft with his long sword and knocked Dolgan's blow off line, all the while mouthing the words of a spell. The axe buried itself in the wet grass and soil.