Kingdoms of Caelum; Autumn of the War Queen

Chapter 24

"There's many a man who would marry an Elf,

if there's one as fine as you,

but many a man should watch their back

'cos she'll stick you good and true!"

Drunken laughter and song filled the sweaty, crowded tavern. Dalbet Harn had been in Fortis three days now and had seen or heard nothing of Ragan. His black mood poured out into his glass as he downed, yet another, frothy ale. The singing of the miners and ruffians irritated him like nails on a chalkboard, and the fact that Ragan had not come to meet him in this scum ridden place irritated him more. He decided he would only come back here one more night, and if Ragan still hadn't made an appearance he would return to Thurlstone; the blasted man better be dead or worse after making Dalbet travel all this way for nothing. He stood to leave with the fragrance of dirt and mild sweat following him to the doorway. The stale air of the DarkElvinKingdom was no better, he grumbled miserably as he stumbled down the evening street. In his disoriented state he cursed Ragan again out loud, and then himself. What had he been thinking? Ragan had promised power beyond his wildest dreams and it had all sounded so real: by the Six Kings the man had even murdered his own brother! He was clearly mad, and Dalbet had somehow caught himself up in this madness. As he rounded a corner he saw a figure up ahead in the shadows, a small man shrouded in a long black cloak. He seemed to be waiting for him.

"Who goes there?" he called, surprised his words sounded lazy and drunk.

"Follow me" came the hiss from the shadows, "Ragan Veurink has a message for you."

Dalbet let free a barrage of curses as he trudged towards the man. What on Caelum was going on? He followed the hooded figure through narrow and deserted streets until he was close enough to grab his cloak

"Where in the name of the Six Kings is he?"

For a moment Dalbet was taken aback by the grotesque scars on the Dark Elf's face. They stood staring at each other for a second before Lofaid limped onwards to a secluded little passage.

"What is the message, Elf?" Dalbet snarled losing his patience. He did not see the concealed dagger until it was too late.

"Ragan feels you should spend some time in my garden." Lofaid smiled, plunging the dagger from his cloak, deep into Dalbet's stomach. Dalbet opened his mouth to shout out at the short and sharp pain, but a dizzy sensation clouded his mind as he felt warm sticky liquid ooze from his body. Lofaid stepped away from his victim with a cruel smile spreading over his face. He watched him drop, shocked and desperate, to his knees in silence, before his eyes began to roll.

"Never trust a Dark Elf, or a mad man," he grinned at Dalbet, watching the life ebb away, "You should have been much cleverer."

Dalbet tried to speak but it turned into nothing but a gargled cry as he slouched flat onto the floor, his blonde hair soaking in his own dark red blood.

Lofaid's smile disappeared. The man was dead and the job was done. Now Ragan had better make sure the next stage of the plan went smoothly or, by the eternal spirits, he would suffer a fate worse than any death Lofaid could conjure.