“I am. Why?”
“There are two of us and only one of him, and we are catching him unaware. He will be easy prey. Follow me.”
Perfect, thought Ceredon.
They maneuvered through the brush, Aeson taking greater care this time to remain silent as they slid down the rocky descent on the other side. The roar of a waterfall soon reached their ears, and the air grew thick with moisture as they continued their downward trek. Finally, they stepped through the threshold of trees, and a lagoon of shimmering black water greeted them on the other side. The gulley was deep, far below sea level, and a nearly solid sheet of water thirty feet wide dumped runoff from the river into it. It was an entirely isolated refuge, invisible from the rest of the forest.
“Why are we here?” Ceredon whispered as he crept alongside Aeson.
“Tantric likes to bathe beneath a particular waterfall while his little nymphs treat him,” Aeson said. “That waterfall resides right behind those trees, in the gulley.…”
Aeson drew his sword as he approached the water’s edge.
“There is a worn path over the stones,” he said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the roaring waterfall. He seemed charged with enthusiasm. “We will take that.”
“As you wish,” Ceredon replied.
They stepped carefully over the moss-covered boulders as mist assaulted their faces. The path led behind the waterfall, which careened so far outward they were able to pass underneath it while remaining mostly dry. They found a wide mouth cut into the substratum of the rock face hidden by the falls, leading to a pitch-black tunnel. Aeson didn’t so much as pause. He held his khandar out before him and stepped confidently into the mouth, scampering like a dancer in his excitement. Ceredon followed him in, keeping his own weapon sheathed.
The tunnel stretched steadily wider and taller. Sealed off from the outside world, there was no light to see, even with their capable eyes. Soon their steps began to echo, and they ran headlong into a solid wall.
“It is too dark,” Aeson said.
Ceredon pulled a bag of tindersticks from his rucksack and struck one. When the flame blazed, he curled up a sheet of parchment and lit the top, forming a makeshift torch. Holding it out before him, he turned in every direction. They had entered a rounded cave, fifty feet in either direction, ending in jagged walls. The ceiling was too high for the light of the torch to reach.
“No one is here,” Aeson said. He sounded disappointed.
“Perhaps the rumor was false,” Ceredon said.
“Not this one.”
“Are you so certain?”
Aeson gave him a glare.
“I heard of this place from the lips of Neretha, Tantric’s estranged wife. He was to be here. That whore must have lied to me.”
“Perhaps,” Ceredon said. “But what if this is just the wrong waterfall, and there is another nearby? We should search the hills. There could be other gullies about.”
Aeson shook his head, looking dejected. “No. This is the one. Neretha will feel my wrath when this is done. We must rejoin the Ekreissar before they get too far ahead.”
“Very well. At your command.”
Aeson turned to leave, but Ceredon remained still. His father’s cousin offered him a queer, impatient look.
“I said we leave,” he said.
Ceredon squinted, the light of the torch making the shadows around him dance. “I have one question I must ask,” he said.
“So ask and let us get on with it.”
“In the courtyard, Clovis mentioned something about betrayed trust. What was that about?”
Aeson shook his head and laughed.
“That is your question? Come-let us go. I have no time for this.”
“I wish to know.”
“It is none of your business.”
“Humor me, Aeson. Humor the elf who will one day be your Neyvar. I would remember it fondly.”
Aeson looked at him cockeyed. “Very well. Humans approached the Triad a year past, asking for a partnership. We were told the eastern deity would soon war with his brother and that we would be handed lands west of the Rigon if we assisted them. One of their conditions was that the delegation from Stonewood remain unharmed.”
“Yet they were harmed,” Ceredon said. “Cleotis Meln was killed, as were many others who had arrived for the betrothal.”
“Yes. The Triad decided that while we would help the humans to rebuild the might of our people, we would not follow such specific demands, especially when they put the entire coup at risk. The Quellan are not slaves to a lesser race.”
“Did my father know?”
Aeson laughed.
“You have much to learn if you are to be Neyvar one day, pup. Your father may be the face of our people, but we of the Triad pull the strings.”
“So the executions…the random selection of prisoners to hang in the galleys outside the palace…that was the Triad’s decision?”
Aeson offered him a wicked grin, raising his khandar in the process.
“No, that decision was mine. What better way to teach a lesson to dogs than by showing those dogs the price of disloyalty to their betters?”
“I can think of ways,” Ceredon said, and that was when the cave filled with the light of many torches lit from above. Ropes descended to the ground and a multitude of forms slid down them. Aeson shrieked and backed away, whipping his khandar about, eyes wide with terror. Those who’d descended the ropes formed a circle around the two Quellan. They were tall, their flesh pale, their hair golden and light brown. One of the Dezren rebels stepped away from the others, a brusque sort, missing the pointed tip of one ear and with burn scars winding from the corner of his mouth down his neck. He held a maul in his hand.
Ceredon lifted his head in pride.
“Aeson, I introduce you to Tantric Thane, leader of the insurgency.”
“You lit-” Aeson began.
Ceredon struck him across the cheek. Blood dribbled over Aeson’s lips.
“No speaking,” Ceredon said in a growl. “Did you know that Tantric’s aunt lived in Stonewood, and that one of her daughters was serving as Audrianna Meln’s handmaiden?”
Aeson stared at him, mouth agape, and said nothing.
Tantric swung downward with his maul, connecting with Aeson’s hand. Bone shattered, the elf screamed, and the khandar he was holding clanked on the ground.
“Zoe Shendara was my niece,” Tantric said, his voice dripping with hatred. “You remember her?”
“Get away from me!” screamed Aeson, gripping his pulverized hand with his good one.
“You had her murdered, you bastard. You ordered the death of a child. Celestia will never forgive you for that.”
The circle of Dezren rebels closed, pinning Aeson down. One stretched out his left arm, holding it against the ground, and Tantric came down with the maul again. The crunch that followed echoed through the cave as Aeson’s shrieks intensified in their urgency.
The rebel leader then tossed down his weapon, approached Ceredon, and threw his arm around him. He started leading him down the tunnel, away from Aeson’s screams.
“Thank you for this,” said Tantric. “We would not have survived this long without your assistance.”
“Nor I without yours,” Ceredon replied. He smiled, a bit sadly. “Neretha performed her part beautifully, but I fear what might happen to her should the humans discover her involvement.”
Tantric laughed.
“I know,” he said. “Don’t worry about my wife. She is strong, and vicious as a wolf when cornered. She will keep our secrets safe, no matter who may attempt to pry them from her lips.”
They paused in the middle of the tunnel, staring at the blue-black sheet of water that cascaded over the opening.