The Grey Pearl (Of Caladuin: Volume Two)

20

Caladuin climbed a final flight of stairs to a wide passageway that led in opposite directions. He extinguished his lamp and left it at the top of the stairs before checking to the right for any guards. He turned left, hugging the far wall where it was darker, gripping the dead guard's knife.

The passageway opened onto a large, low-ceilinged room where he found Amlug still leaning over the parapet, gazing down at the dock. It was as though he had been waiting for him. The room opened up behind him; in the middle, there was a wide oblong table and beyond that, a large bed with fine sheets. From the shadows, Caladuin could see his bow and quiver and Tathariel's long-knives and harness resting on the table. The entire scene had the markings of a clumsily set trap. Nonetheless, he stepped forward, holding his knife loosely in his left hand.

Amlug half-turned his head. "Come," he said softly. "Things are in motion. Come and see."

Caladuin hesitated, then moved slowly towards him.

"I must congratulate you," Amlug said. He straightened and turned away from the parapet. "On your escape." He stepped forward and Caladuin moved towards the table. "You really ought to have accepted my offer, Caladuin. It pains me, having to take the life of my kin."

"You are no kin of mine."

Caladuin lunged for the table but Amlug pounced at him like a cat. The Dark-elf's blade glimmered in the dim light: a curved steel grin. Caladuin twisted round and jabbed at his opponent but his arm was already sweeping upward in defence. He felt a sharp blow to his elbow and his grip weakened. His knife tumbled through the air as he caught a glance of a second blade in Amlug's left hand. He quickly grabbed the Dark-elf's wrists and launched his head into his face. There was a crunch of bone before Amlug pulled back.

Caladuin bent backwards to avoid a swinging blade and brushed against the corner of the table. He glanced down and snatched at Tathariel's iron fist, half-hidden under the strap of his quiver. He fumbled and grabbed leather instead. His arrows spread out across the table. Amlug was swinging his arms wide and fast now. A few locks of his black hair had escaped its braid were dancing in front of his twisted, silver grin.

Caladuin swerved and bobbed as they danced around the table. He twisted away from a jab to his chest and pushed the Dark-elf's arm away. That gave him the precious moment he needed to fall to his haunches. He slid under the table and sensed Amlug's momentary confusion as he looked for him. Caladuin kicked hard at Amlug's knee. The Dark-elf yelped as he staggered across the smooth floor towards his bed. Caladuin moved further under the table as Amlug quickly recovered and limped towards him. Now on his feet, Caladuin pressed his shoulders against the underside of the table and pushed up. His thighs burned as the table lifted and tilted towards Amlug. Now erect, Caladuin planted his hands on the table and pushed it towards him. He heard the Dark-elf snarl in frustration as the table teetered on its edge.

He felt his arrows under his bare toes and dropped quickly, grabbing one as he pushed the table further towards the bed. There was resistance and an indignant cry from the Dark-elf as he fell back onto the sheets. Caladuin pushed again and now the table was upended, pinning Amlug down. He stepped back and almost laughed at the sight of the Dark-elf's boots sticking out from under the table.

Caladuin stepped forward. He lifted the edge of the table and heard a grunt as its weight pressed Amlug's head into the bed. Caladuin thrust his hand into the gap; the arrow pierced Amlug's chest just beneath the ribs. There was a short, muffled cry that turned to a whimper. Caladuin pushed the arrow upwards and felt warm blood spread over his hand. He twisted the arrow then yanked it out. One of Amlug's knives fell to the floor by the side of the bed. The table slumped as the life left him. He slid it to one side and looked down at Amlug's face, contorted with its maddened silver grin. The dull, malevolent light had left his eyes.

He turned and scanned the floor for his bow and Tathariel's long-knives. He followed the trail of his arrows back to his quiver, which was half hidden in the shadows of the far wall. After refilling the quiver, he checked the small pocket on the side and thanked the stars that it had not been emptied.

As he shouldered his bow, a horn was blown.