Wild electricity sparked from his hands and coiled around the blade in spiraling vines. The elf ran to meet the Rangers and launched into the air, bringing his sword downward. It hit the ground with a deafeningboom. Thunderbolts blasted outward in violent waves.
Von sprinted from the explosions and shaking buildings, ducking low. The remnants of electrical magic crackled at his back. The screams of the dying followed him, even as he exited the alleyway into town.
* * *
Von stalked through the dark, avoiding the lanterns lining the deserted roads. He headed for the Smithton Tavern in the posh part of Landcaster. The imposing building stood three-stories tall with arching windows.
He went through the front doors and found it much quieter than the pub. The sleek wood floors gleamed under the chandeliers overhead. Stairways with iron spindles flanked the tavern walls, leading to lodging on the floors above. Dark wood tables spread throughout the public lounge. There were only a handful of patrons and all had veered off in separate corners where servants brought them fine food and drink on polished trays.
His master sat at a table within a shadowy alcove. The sharp planes of Tarn’s face were not easily discernible under his dark blond hair. A section of it hid part of the mangled scar that coursed diagonally from his right brow, across the bridge of his nose, and curved to the left end of his jaw. An immaculate overcoat, the color of charcoal, with notch lapels and silver buttons contoured his tall, lean frame.
Two other men accompanied him, laughing and shuffling a deck of cards. A pile of gold coins gleamed in the center of the table. Tarn sipped from a goblet as he tossed in a few more stacks, coins spilling down the mound. The men shared an impish grin and added their bets.
Von came up behind them, glancing at their cards. Each was painted with the sigil of each kingdom within Urn. The kingdoms were valued differently based on their size, wealth, and army. Both of the gamblers had matched pairs. Good enough plays to win, not that they would.
Von approached his master’s side and bowed. Tarn idly flicked his fingers, permitting him to stand. He glanced at the cylindrical case and Von nodded, confirming they’d gained another Sacred Scroll. But then Tarn noticed the speckles of blood on his coat. He fixed him with eyes that were the striking ice blue of a frozen lake, bottomless and frigid. A chill flushed through Von’s veins at meeting them.
He leaned down to whisper, “We had trouble with Rangers.”
“Cause?”
“It was a trap.”
“You should not have lingered.”
“I was delayed, Master.” Von took a breath and added, “I found the Maiden.”
Tarn’s responding smile was slight and as cold as the rest of him.
The two players laid down their ten cards. Tarn then tossed his across the table, revealing a matched set representing the five major kingdoms of the country: the seven-pointed star of Azure, Greenwood’s Dynalya, the dunes of Harromog Modos, the fire-breathing dragon of Xián Jing, and the triad symbol displaying the three guilds of the Magos Empire.
The men scowled.
The one with a beard slammed his hand on the table. “It’s impossible to get all five. You bloody cheated.”
Tarn took another drink. “Did I? Or might it be you’re too incompetent to win?”
The man lunged. Tarn kicked out the vacant chair between them, knocking the man’s feet out from under him. He tripped face-first onto the edge of the table with a sickening crunch. The man cried out and blood gushed from his broken nose. His friend leaped to his feet, whipping out a dagger. Von grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it behind his back until there was an audible snap. A keening cry echoed in the quiet parlor, followed by the dull thud of the dagger hitting the floor.
Von slammed him atop the pile of gold. “He won this round fairly, aye?”
“Aye,” the man garbled against a mouthful of coins.
Von tossed him next to his companion. The servants hardly looked over at the commotion. This must be a common occurrence.
“Shall we play another round?” Tarn asked as he shuffled the cards. The gamblers weren’t interested. Von jerked his head for them to go. They snatched up their belongings and scurried out of the tavern.
Tarn’s icy gaze pinned on him again. “Are you sure she is the one? I’m tired of rumors and false leads.”
Von lowered his head, keeping his voice low. “She matched the Seer’s description: hair like fire and eyes emerald-green.” Those were common characteristics, but there was no mistaking how Dyna had looked to him in the sunset, and there were other indications. “She has the key, as foretold. I overheard her companions mention a map to Mount Ida.”
Tarn’s expression didn’t change, but Von sensed his contentment. “And she’s accompanied, you say. By the Guardians?”
“Possibly.”
“How many?”
“Two. There may be more. The Rangers impeded us from following.”
