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For a long while, the city of the Svartans—Svartalfheim—had existed in the Subterranean Realms, among the demonic forces. But when Shadow Wing took over, the entire city packed up and moved back to Otherworld, causing a major stir in both realms.
They had not used the portals—they could not, since the portals to the Sub-Realms were still sealed—but since they were not demons, their most powerful wizards had been able to transport the entire city, lock, stock, and barrel, with only minor damage. King Vodox had feared that the Demon Lord would turn his eye toward the growing power of their people and use it to tear open the portals. Whether their wizards even had that ability didn’t matter. Either way, Shadow Wing would have torn them—and the entire city—to shreds.
Though the Svartans were technically shadowy cousins of the elves, they were often lumped in with the Fae, because of their chaotic natures. It was all very confusing, and I personally believed that, if we dug back far enough into the past, we’d find both elves and Fae had common ancestors.
“So you are certain it’s Telazhar?” Delilah asked.
“Without a doubt.” Taath leaned forward, still cloaked within his robes. “He means to win as many over to Shadow Wing’s side as possible and we think he knows that the spirit seals are here, in Elqaneve. They will try to assail the city for them. The more backing they have, the easier it will be when the Demon Lord attempts to break through the portals.”
It made sense. If no one was answering the front door, go around and try the back to see if it’s unlocked. “He’s clever. He hasn’t had much luck Earthside. There are too many divisions among Earthside countries to win over a majority.”
“Yes, where here, in Otherworld, the south is a hotbed of unrest. It always has been. The sorcerers chafe at the restrictions they’re under when they come north, and they’ve been left to their own devices since the Scorching Wars ended. Sorcerers have always valued power and strength.” By the tone of his voice, I had a feeling Taath admired this aspect of his comrades in magic.
Camille spoke up. “In some ways, I think it was a mistake to banish them from the northern cities. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, that sort of thing.” She leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table. “So, what’s next?”
Darynal stood and, hands behind his back, paced. “We infiltrate the Southern Wastes. You return home and do what you can to find the next spirit seal. Shadow Wing has two of them. We know he’s outfitted Telazhar with one of them, but he’ll be looking for the last two, in order to further increase his power.”
“How long do you think it will take you to find the information you’re looking for down there?” I’d never been to the Southern Wastes, and they were definitely on my do-not-visit list, but even I knew they were vast, sprawling plains of sand, with rogue magic blending into the very landscape. The Wastes were a dangerous and volatile place.
“As much as I dislike it, the reality is we’ll probably be spending at least one moon cycle worming our way in.” Darynal shrugged. “There’s nothing to hurry it along, either. We dare not push too quickly or we’ll draw unwanted attention to ourselves.”
A pensive look on her face, Camille turned to Delilah and me. “I hate to suggest this, but…do you think Shamas would be helpful to them?”
“No, he wouldn’t.” Delilah scowled. “Don’t forget, our cousin nearly sacrificed himself to warn the high priestess of your order. The sorcerers he trained under aren’t going to forget that anytime soon. And they probably spread the word through the guilds about him.”
“She’s right. We can’t offer him up on a platter.” I shook my head. As angry as we’d been with Shamas when we found out he’d been training in the Southern Wastes, we weren’t going to hang him out to dry. He’d turned himself around and was trying to contribute to both the household, and to the Seattle Fae community.
Camille heaved a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you think so. As nice as it would be to have our own operative working with Darynal’s group, I really didn’t want to stick Shamas’s neck on the chopping block. I was still pissed at him, but you know what? I think I need to get over it.”
“He’d be chopped all right, head first.” I pushed my chair back. “So Darynal…I suppose we’ve covered all there is to cover? Send us whatever you find out, even if it seems like nothing. We’ll do the same.”
“We will.” The Svartan stood, bowing to the three of us. He reached for Camille’s hand, again, kissing it gently.
But we were saved awkward good-byes with Quall and Taath when Trenyth reentered the room.
“You are finished talking?”
“Yeah, for now.” I wanted nothing more than to corner the elf privately for a little tête-à-tête about their choice in agents.
“Then, Darynal, Quall, Taath, you may retire for the evening. Rest well. You will need it. Girls, please remain here for a moment.” He waited until the three men left, Darynal hugging both Trillian and Camille before he sauntered out of the room.
Once we were alone again, Queen Asteria joined us. “What do you think of our scouts?” It didn’t sound like a rhetorical question.
I decided to be upfront. “I don’t like Quall. I’m wary of him, and my alarm bells are going off. Camille, what do you think?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You know what I think. A testosterone-laden macho jerk…but he’s good at his job. I can tell.”
“He is.” Delilah said. “But I don’t trust him.”
“We have to trust him.” Trenyth crossed his arms, looking dour. “Darynal is good to his word. Taath was trained by our own techno-mages. He’s a sorcerer, yes, but he’s one of us. Quall…there are extenuating circumstances as to why he is on this mission. He’ll be accepted more readily than the others down in Rhellah. We need him.”
“Why will they accept him over others?” I sensed one of those announcements coming—the kind you really don’t want to hear.
“Because he’s the son of the high commander of the city. When Quall was young, his mother fell out of favor with his father, who killed her and sold the boy to raiders. The raiders grew tired of toying with him and left him in Dahnsburg.”
“I’m sensing Lifetime victim-of-the-week movie here,” Delilah said.
“Truly, Quall was a victim of circumstance. In Dahnsburg, he was enslaved by a roughshod orphanage. He managed to escape a few years later by hiding in a caravan headed for Elqaneve. He was still very young, but resourceful.”
