Chapter 8

It wasn't long before he found Leanna the next morning. She had been standing watch over her uncle's body in the cold crypt that Raelag had provided for it. She had wrapped herself in a bearskin robe and sat there for the entire night. She was oddly resigned when she emerged, her face emotionless and straight and that worried Sareth even more had she been crying.

When she noticed his scrutiny she forged a smile that was an obvious feint. He didn't say anything and accompanied her to Lord Raelag's throne room.

Raelag's throne room was not entirely what Sareth had expected. While he had never been admitted to one before he had a mental image of what one might look like. It was a tall, almost narrow room made from an almost complete stone block and carved out and then fitted with basalt pillars to keep the roof from collapsing. The walls were bare and polished like marble with only the ceiling and floor allowed to hold any markings at all.

The room was lit by two ivory bowls either side of the throne itself, of the various Dark Elven clans and the banner for the Shadowbrand hung above the throne itself.

Soldiers stood to attention at either side of the door, footmen in armour armed with swords and shields. Since the backbone of Dark Elf armies was reptilian cavalry, Sareth supposed that these were mostly for show.

The room was full of people, mostly dark elves although were also some well dressed humans in burgundy outfits that could only be merchants hoping to achieve some generous trade agreement.

Sareth sighted Raelag himself off to one side. He was talking with a strange tall, thin man who wore a dark robe.

Beside him, Leanna drew in her breath with a hiss.

"That man." She began in a low voice, her gaze fixed upon the dark figure. "He's a Necromancer!"

Sareth looked up at the man again, taking in more details this time.

He was wiry and he made no attempt to hide that fact with his robes, keeping it fixed to his body by black belts wrapped around his waist. Over his left shoulder he wore a pauldron that seemed to be made out of bone marrow, shaped for purpose with intimidating spikes curved upwards from the back.

His face almost square in shape, worry lines showed here and there to mar his near flawless complexion. His hair was dark and long, tied back into a pony tail behind him. What attracted the most attention to anyone who might behold him was the mark across his brow, a strange dark tattoo in the shape of a venomous spider.

Just by looking at him Sareth felt a cold dread come over him. He couldn't explain this feeling yet the merest glimpse of that dark figure sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.

"Sareth, be careful!" Xana warned him in the silent reaches of his mind. "That's Arantir!"

"Arantir?"

"He's a member of the High Council of Heresh, one of the most powerful Necromancers there are."

Sareth paused, a few thoughts racing through his mind. Menelag had said that the Wight that had claimed his life could only be summoned by Necromancers and here was one, so conveniently close. He cast a glance at Leanna and the angry, near hate filled expression she bore told him that she had come to the same conclusion.

"We don't know for sure." He warned her, whispering to her although the words sounded hollow in his mouth. Sareth suspected it as much as she did yet still he would like confirmation before he went accusing people, especially high ranking Necromancers.

The two of them edged closer through the crowd and after a moment they could hear Raelag and Arantir talk.

"No, this is too much you ask of me." Raelag was saying. "Especially now with the new church in a position of power at Talonguard."

"You worry too much about that order." Arantir replied with a frown.

"And I think you worry too little. My spies are better than yours and I know a few things about that church that cause me to look with great concern to my southern borders."

"Military campaigns are simply going to get in the way." The Necromancer stated. "Drastic action had to be taken and soon. Your skills are needed."

"Indeed. More so here, defending my people, than on some wild goose chase looking for a relic that might not even exist."

Arantir was about to retort but Raelag cut him off when he noticed they were being watched.

"Ah, lady Leanna." He began with an obviously forged smile. "I hope you are faring better this day."

Leanna did not reply; her steady penetrating gaze was fixed directly on the Necromancer. Arantir returned her stare without so much as blinking once.

"It would seem I am not desired here." He remarked stating the obvious. "Obviously the reputation of my people is marred amongst the Free Cities."

"Well be honest Arantir, it's a reputation that's been well earned." Raelag commented dryly.

Arantir did not look impressed.

"As the hierarchy of Heresh have made clear on many occasions, Markal was rouge. He was acting without authorisation from the council and we continue to denounce his annexing of the Griffin Empire and his assault against Irollan."

"But not his attack against the Silver Cites?"

Arantir shrugged.

"We are at war with them constantly anyway, perhaps if he had left his campaign to just that we might have overlooked his insubordination. But our position will continue to be strict neutrality in the affairs of the northern kingdoms."

Leanna's harsh glare continued.

"I can see you have pressing business. Perhaps we may speak later, Lord Raelag; I hope I have your permission to withdraw?"

"Of course."

Arantir made a stiff bow and then left and Leanna watched him as he made to leave. Anyone in his bath stepped aside instantly, fearing his passage. Before he left, he cast a glance back over his shoulder and Sareth felt the Necromancer's attention focused on him. His pale blue eyes were penetrating and the boy could not help but shrink under their gaze.

Then the doors closed and Arantir was gone.

"You know how Menelag died don't you?" Sareth asked without looking at Raelag.

"Oh I know." The Dark Elf lord replied watching Arantir leave. "Don't let his words fool you boy, Arantir is just as much a rogue was Markal was, probably more-so. He simply goes to greater lengths to conceal the fact than Markal ever did."

"Then why admit him to our throne room?"

"I do so because he and I have a shared interest." Raelag stated. "While we don't agree on each others methods we both want the cultists crushed." He moved to sit on his throne. "I do want them gone for political and personal reasons. Arantir does it because of religious obligation."

"But what about Menelag?" Sareth began but Leanna cut him off.

"The abominations of Necromancers killed my uncle." She remarked acidly. "And here one is… so close at hand. He should be brought her to answer charges."

""I'm afraid there is little apart from circumstantial evidence to link Arantir to the murder." Raelag sighed, sitting down. "For the moment at least, he enjoys something in the realm of diplomatic immunity."

"You have open talks with Heresh?" Sareth sounded a little amazed.

"Hardly. I have a non aggression pact with them that is all. If I start negotiating with Necromancers I'd be in trouble with most of the northern realms. I don't want to get into a war with the undead however so we agree not to attack each other. That's the best I can do without bringing the combined wrath of Irollan, the Griffon Empire and the Silver Cities down on my head."

He sighed.

"Allies come in unexpected places."

Sareth felt a momentary chill going through him. Xana had said the same thing of the people who had come to Phenrig's that terrible night.

"Now, as for you." Raelag began again turning to look directly at him. "Are you still serious about your application to be my student?"

Leanna looked up at the boy in surprise.

"You asked to be his pupil?" She asked.

Sareth nodded once.

"Why not?" He asked.

"I have given it some thought." The Dark Elf interrupted with his eyes intent. "You are not the only one to ask for the privilege of tutoring, however. It would appear that my reputation spreads further than I imagined and people assume I take apprentices."

"Don't you?"

"Not everyone. Only those who already display a certain degree of skill in the arts of magic may be accepted. I'm much too busy to run a school for amateurs.

If I accept you, you'll be trained alongside others in the arts that require the maximum amount of dedication and discipline. I will accept nothing less. Do you understand?"

Sareth was silent for a moment. He wanted to learn magic, that was a drive in him that had only grown as time past but this sounded like a great deal of hardship that he had let himself in for without realising it.

But then again, if he was going to pursue this lofty goal of his then surely it was worth the effort? He had already endured a lot to get here and the more he thought about it, the more he felt assured that he could handle anything the Dark Elf method of education could throw at him.

"Yes." He remarked. "I understand."

"Good." Raelag actually sounded pleased. "I then accept you as my apprentice. Lessons with your fellow students begin in one weak. Use that time to prepare yourself."

The words 'prepare yourself' had a strange overtone to them that gave Sareth the awful image of unspeakably hard toil.

"Well you did ask for it." Xana told him unsympathetically.

For the next two days, Sareth sat in meditation. He surprised even himself with that but the training regime Phenrig had forced him thought gave him the instinct to hone his mind and prepare himself mentally.

Instructions were to be delivered to him once the week was over and following those instructions was supposed to lead him to the training area. Sareth did not feel it was necessary to be quite so secretive. Again he was reminded of the intriguing nature of Dark Elf culture. Everything was based on secrets and plots so he supposed this made sense for them.

Leana was forced finally to deal directly with the consequences of her uncle's death and arrangements were made to ferry the body back to the Free city of StoneHelm. Surprisingly, she was not going with it.

"Shouldn't you be attending the funeral?" Sareth asked her on the morning of the third day. The body had left the city, bound for the surface last night yet she had remained here.

"I can't face them." She replied. "How can I stand there amongst them after I promised them I'd keep him safe and failed?" She shook her head. "No, if nothing else I think I need time in order to work this out by myself."

Sareth had little choice but to accept that. He doubted her relatives would really be so unforgiving but they weren't the one with the problem. Leanna needed time and here was as good a place as any to get that time.

Perhaps a bit of revenge might help her along as well.

He stopped at that thought. Justice, he corrected himself quite quickly. Not revenge, justice. The Necromancer who had summoned those Ghouls and Wights had to pay for Menelag's murder.

The only real lead he had on that front was Arantir.

Like a visitor of nobility the Necromancer stayed in a manor near the market district of the city, or at least that was what he had been told. If Raelag was not going to investigate the possible connection then someone had to.

"And that someone would be you, I take it?" Xana asked sceptically, sharing his thoughts on the matter. "Sareth, Arantir is a powerful mage as well as a Necromancer. Menelag and Phenrig both pale in comparison to him. If he catches you sniffing around his personal effects…" She left it hanging to allow his imagination to take over.

"I know, I know." He told her out load. "Believe me, I know." That gaze the Necromancer had levelled at him in the throne room had chilled him. Behind those eyes were the indented impressions of undeniable magical power. He was not stupid enough to make the fatal mistake of challenging Arantir directly.

Xana manifested beside him, wearing a new gown that seemed popular amongst dark elf women.

"No, what I need is some help." Sareth mused. "Professional help."

Lethos, the Dark Elven assassin, was waiting for them outside the fortress when they emerged to venture out into the city. He wore a dark clock, typical of most Dark elves and were it not for his violet hair his nondescript appearance might have made them overlook him.

"Come to my arms, my brother!" He declared, throwing his arms out wide when he saw them.

Both Sareth and Xana stood there looking stunned.

"Have you not heard?" He asked with a wide, smug grin. "We are to be training brothers, both of us under the unique tutelage of our Clanlord."

"What? You're a student?" He asked blinking.

"Of course!" Lethos looked utterly ecstatic. "It is a great honour! I shall not only be an assassin but a warlock as well! Oh the stories they'll write about us my new brother, what tales!" He seemed as trifle caught up in his self congratulatory world and Sareth wondered if he would be quite so jovial once the training began.

"It won't be easy." He told him.

"Of course it won't." Lethos remarked with a negligent wave of his hand. "I'm no stranger to harsh training. When I was being taught the assassins art, I had to ingest every known poison so I'd recognise their textures, tastes and effects."

Sareth blanched.

"And you lived?" He asked in wonder.

"Oh they give us the antidotes as well." Lethos added quickly. "Training amongst our people might be hard and sometimes cruel but they'll never let anyone die while taking it."

"Oh well that is comforting." Sareth remarked, not sounding convinced. Then a thought came to him. "Are you any good at…" He paused and groped around for the right word.

"Getting into places where you have no business in being?" Xana offered bluntly and Sareth shot her a glare.

Lethos laughed.

"I wouldn't be very good at my job if I weren't." He said with a chuckle. "I see a few days amongst our people have already corrupted you. How splendid. Who did you have in mind?"

"Oh no, I don't want anyone killed!" Sareth was quick to add. "I just need to do a little…er…snooping."

The Dark Elf shrugged.

"I can do that too." He put his hands on his hips. "And it'll cost you less than assassination you'll be glad to hear. Whose home do you want to try to get into?"

"Arantir's."

That single word changed the expression on Lethos' face instantly. His smile disappeared and his eyes went very wide.

"Now that's different." He told them after a prolonged moment of silence. "What in Malassa's name do you want to poke around that madman for?" Lethos asked. "I can think of safer targets if you want."

"No this is personal." The boy replied sternly. The elf sighed.

"Oh alright." He sounded resigned and more stunned than afraid. "For that kind of job you're going to need more help than just me to get into his manor house." He thought for a moment, placing a finger to his lips. "His place is bound to be full of magical traps and the like. I can spring a lock but I can't stop an enchantment from blasting me if I try."

"You might after Raelag's training."

"Are you prepared to wait?"

"No."

"Then we go ask for help."

Virbeth had several different districts all connected by wide stone walkways suspended hundreds of feet above the canyon floor. Lethos lead them across the length of one of these expanses to the market district, where the traders and merchants in abundance stayed. This district was balanced between three large stalactites, the buildings built into the rock to provide structural integrity. Between these buildings were the common markets, stalls manned by races from all across Ashan.

There were human merchants, both imperial and those from the free cities although they kept a respectable distance from each other. There were a few mages, identifiable by their exotics clothes and turbans selling relics that Sareth could not recognise.

What caught his attention was a large stall by the centre of the district. It was a cage metal bars connecting like a fence all the way around. A dark elf merchant stood there haggling with customers and inside his pen were about a dozen large creatures. In the light from the crystals that provided illumination to this subterranean world, Sareth could see they were Minotaurs.

Half men, half bull; they stood about six foot tall and were all incredibly well built. Their horns either side of their heads were curved and the lower halves of their bodies were those of upright bison. The sounds they made were an odd mixture of near human cackles and bison mooing.

These clearly powerful creatures just stood there submissively, chained to the ground and muzzled. They were kneeling in their own filth and the smell was disgusting and it was causing them some obvious distress.

Everyone knew Dark Elves were slavers. Minotaurs, Orcs, Goblins and even a few of their own kind they had put into enforced service over the years but this was the first time Sareth beheld a slave market.

"Something wrong?" Lethos asked, looking at Sareth.

"Why do they do that?" He asked. When Lethos raised a questioning eyebrow Sareth gestured towards the slaves. "Why keep them in such…" He wrinkled his nose. "…such filth?"

"They're just animals." Lethos remarked turning away as if it didn't matter. "A perverse thing some wizard came up with thousands of years ago. We put them to work, that's all."

Sareth looked at the minotaur's and shook his head.

"No." He remarked. "They're sentient and they don't deserve this."

Lethos laughed.

"Sentient! Hah, that's a good one." He slapped his thigh. "Oh now come on, lets go. There's someone at the tavern here I think you should meet."

Sareth stayed for a moment and then with his heart wrenched with pity, he turned away and followed his strength through the stands.

The tavern Lethos lead them to was a small building on the far side of the market. A sigh out front was written in a language Sareth did not recognise so the name of the place eluded him.

The place was actually larger on the inside than it was on the outside. It burrowed into the large stalactite behind it and there were several floors with stairs leading up and down to a bar and private rooms above.

There were a great many people here and Lethos had to negotiate his way through them in order to reach the stairs.

"Down here." He told them, directing them towards the bar. "I just hope he sticks to his drinking schedule."

"Who?" Xana asked but her question was instantly answered as somewhere off the in the crowd, someone started sing loudly.

At the bar there was perhaps one of the strangest sights Sareth had ever laid eyes on.

A man, a mage if his orange robes were any indication, sat on a stool waving a tankard in the air and sloshing ale in every direction with each swing. Despite having a vertically aligned face he was short and his skin showed that tanned quality that only came from long exposure to the elements. His beard was short but rugged almost like a bear's fur, black with a streaking of brown here and there.

For whatever reason he wore an eye patch over his left eye and his right was so dark it gave the illusion of blindness.

He wore a turban like all mages. It was orange to match his robes and was slopped to one side of his head in inattentive drunkenness.

He was a sight enough by himself but the stranger thing was his drinking partner. Sitting beside him was a small creature, no large than a child of eight, yet it had the proportions of something fully grown.

It was a curious and odd thing with strange grey, scaly skin and large ferret like ears on either side of its head. It had a crest running vertically up across its skull and down the back towards the neck. Its face had a curious, ape like quality to it yet the teeth in the mouth were jagged like a piranha and the eyes were flaxen yellow.

It was dressed in a robe of its own, lined with spoiled furs across the shoulders. It was patched in places and here and there it was darkened with spilt ale.

The strangest part of this display now was the fact that this creature also had a tankard in one hand and it was singing along with the man next to it. The two of them supported each other with lurching gestures as they sang, out of tune with their volume waxing and waning.

"Is that a Goblin?" Sareth asked Xana.

"Close." She replied. "Actually it's a Gremlin."

"Gremlin?" He repeated.

"After the goblins escaped from their masters, the wizards recaptured a few of them. Wizards don't really like it then their creations disobey, so they created Gremlins from those captured goblins. They're supposed to be more obedient and sensible." She cast a sceptical glance over the drunken pair. "Although now I think that the sensible part is debateable."

"Good, I don't think they've not too far gone." Lethos remarked, stepping forth. "Let's see if I can't get through to them." He moved to the singing pair and clicked his fingers in front of the mage's good eye.

The drunken man swerved his head around and blinked once at him.

"Oh it is yourself…" He muttered in a heavily accented voice before he toppled off his seat and onto the floor, his ale spilling from his tankard. The gremlin cackled at him loudly before it tipped backwards and with arms wailing it crashed down to the floor.

The crowd around them roared with laughter.

"Do we really need these two?" Sareth asked, casting Lethos a glance.

"They're not as drunk as they look."

"No, they're drunker."

Lethos managed to drag the mage back up onto the stool and prop him up.

"Havez, come on now I need to talk business." The elf started. The mage simply swayed back and forth as if he didn't comprehend. "Come on you can't have drunk that much already."

"Funny, some other guy bet we couldn't drink so much about an hour ago." The gremlin remarked, scrambling back to its own stool. Its voice was high pitched and guttural.

"We proved him wrong!" Havez declared, banging a fist down on the bar to the applause of the crowd around them. Lethos looked a little annoyed.

"Hmm, perhaps they ARE just a tad too thick headed." He reached into his robe and withdrew a small glass vial. It was corked and the substance within seemed to be a strange orange powder.

"Bartender, two more tankards of ale for my friends here." He called and Havez and his gremlin let out a loud approving roar.

He was quickly past the foaming mugs and he slid them across the bar towards the drunken pair. As he did so, he made a slight movement of his fingers over the foam. Sareth's eyes were sharp enough to catch the action of the delicate sprinkling of powder.

It was a subtle action that even had they been sober they might not have noticed and in their present state they simply picked up the tankards and proceeded to drink down the ale almost in one go.

Sareth watched intently.

The effects were almost immediate. The wizard was the first to react, his hand going to his throat and he started making loud strangled noises. His eyes bulged and he staggered forth off the stool. The gremlin followed next, falling back off his stool again and spinning about on the floor.

"Works every time." Lethos remarked to no one in particular, a smug grin on his face.

Havez turned blue, then pale white and finally a deep shade of green. With a hand over his mouth he bolted for a side door, shoving people out of his way in his hurry. His gremlin was close behind, swearing loudly in an unrecognisable language.

"Come on." Lethos told the two of them and ran after the wizard. Sareth and Xana followed.

The doorway led into a separate set of corridors where the latrines were housed. It was here they found the pair nosily emptying their stomachs.

"It's a special type of laxative that induces instant vomiting." The dark elf told Sareth as he patted the vial he had concealed back inside his robes. "I use it whenever I have to sober someone up real quickly."

"It seems to work wonders." Xana observed as the gremlin upchucked a lot more than it should have been possible for his small body to contain in the first place. Lethos smiled with a slight bow.

Havez was not immediately sober once he was finished emptying his stomach but he was certainly less drunk and another concoction that Lethos gave him was able to clear his mind. He sat down on the floor, whipping the back of his mouth and trembling slightly.

"Oh my head." He groaned, holding his head with both hands suddenly as if he were afraid it might fall off. "My brain's going to explode."

"Not before mine." His gremlin stated, collapsing back onto his back and rolling his eyes.

"You're exaggerating, Graug." Lethos told him. "You've been drunk before. You know all about those wonderful after effects."

"Exactly the kind of talk I'd expect from a teetotaller like you, Lethos." The gremlin replied, his large ears drooping. "I've never seen you touch a drop."

"I know of safer poisons than the concoctions taverns insist on serving." The elf stated. "I personally would rather my liver remained in perfect working order. Your's might be if you kept yourself clean for more than a week."

"Our liver is really none of your business so I don't think it was friendly to cleanse them for us." Havez said sharply and looked up with an annoyed glare on his face. He was clearly having trouble focusing but his mind was clearer, at least now to the point where he could understand what they were saying. "Alright, what is it? Since you insist on ruining our day I might as well listen."

Lethos smiled cheekily.

"Glad to hear it." He said and then gestured back. "This is Sareth, a friend of mine. He has a rather… interesting job in mind for me however I could use your expertise."

The mage managed to get back to his feet.

"Can it wait until my head stops screaming?"

"No not really." Lethos then turned to Sareth. "This is Havez. Rather an odd sort of mage really, eccentric and a little bit peculiar. Most of his fellows in the Silver Citites tend to avoid him."

"That is not true! The mage declared. "I'll club you if you say that again." He made a step forward but he staggered and then fell back against the wall.

"He does a lot of travelling, likes to pick up odds and ends from places." Lethos continued. "Quite a collector of the curiosities really and not to mention a professional Gremlin breeder."

"Don't talk about us like we're pedigree dogs, please." Graug said as he stared up at the ceiling with almost vacant eyes.

"He's the closest thing to a Wizard pirate there is." The elf added with a grin. "He's quite versed in protective enchantments so I thought of him right off."

To Sareth, Havez did not look like much. Perhaps his perception had been marred by their first meeting but whatever the reason Havez did not radiate the aura of professionalism that Sareth had been hoping for.

Neither did his partner, the gremlin Graug, who it appeared could soak up impossibly large amounts of ale.

So when they retreated to the back of the inn to a lonely table, he was not exactly optimistic about the aid he would get out of them.

"Get on with it then." Havez began after a moment, keeping a hand to his forehead. "Outline what you want and keep it brief. No fancy words I won't be able to grasp them."

Lethos shrugged.

"Very well." He said and proceeded to bluntly outline Sareth's desire to break into Arantir's manor house, evade the traps built into the place and emerge with their skin still on their bodies.

Despite the fact that the two of them were recovered from a chemically induced hangover, they listened to every word with their eyes slowly widening.

"It's ambitious, I'll give you that." Graug said with a low whistle.

"And dangerous." Havez added sternly. "I'm not so removed from the Silver Cities not to hear of the exploits of the Avatar of Death."

"The what?" Sareth asked.

Havez muttered something and then leaned back in his chair.

"About five years after Markal was killed and the Necromancers were driven out of the Griffon Empire, the hierocracy of the Necromancers had to select a new leader. There was the usual bickering and in fighting and my kinsmen thought it would be the perfect opportunity to march in and destroy them while they were dis-unified.

It was then he appeared, as if out of nowhere. Arantir."

Havez's face darkened.

"Three whole armies marched into Heresh and when they met with Arantir not one soldier returned."

Sareth blanched.

"He's the reason the war between the Silver Cities and Heresh has returned to a stalemate. Since then he earned the title Avatar of Death and might be considered the closest thing the Necromancer's have to a king of their own."

"So what's he doing here?"

"Who knows? If Raelag wants to chat with summoners of undead that's his business." The mage's expression turned a little wicked. "I'll admit that the prospect of proving Arantir responsible for at least one crime does warm my heart."

"I'm sure your kinsmen would appreciate it." Lethos chuckled.

"They might even let you back into Nawal." Grug offered but the smile disappeared from Havez's face.

"I doubt anything will have them forgive me after that Sulphuric container exploded. But I'd get in their good books at any rate."

Sareth wondered if perhaps he wasn't talking to the right people about this. But it was too late to back out of it now.

"So you'll help?" He asked.

"There's still the matter of the fee." Lethos reminded him.

"Fee?"

"We're professionals, Sareth. We don't work for free, especially not if you want to have us poking around a figure like Arantir."

Sareth hesitated.

"You want us to sneak into the residence of a power Necromancer and poke around his personal effects and you can't even pay us?" The Gremlin at the table asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Well I really don't have any money." The young man admitted, thinking of that complication for the first time.

Havez shrugged.

"Money is nice but there are other means of payment." He commented. Graug looked around at him with a despairing glance.

"Oh no, you're not thinking of…"

"Well, Arantir must have a large collection of odds and ends from his conquests in Heresh."

There was a gleam in the mage's eyes that despite his induced hangover hinted at kleptomania.

"I can only imagine… scrolls, artefacts, things stolen from the Silver Cities under the war of the Broken Staff, possible entire rooms full of nick knacks." He drummed his fingers against each other and he smiled ruefully.

Graug put his head down on the table and moaned.

"I understand your passion for interesting things to add to your collections yet I should point out the unlikelihood that Arantir brought any with him." Lethos offered but Havez shook his head.

"Any self respecting mage or necromancer brings equipment with him."

"Havez, you're going to get us killed!" The gremlin told him exasperatingly.

Before anyone could say anything further there was a sudden loud commotion from amongst the crowds at the bar.

Sareth glanced up to see a dozen or so large figures push their way through towards them. They were all dark elves with wraps around their chins to hide all of their faces except their red eyes. They wore chain mail shirts underneath and gauntlets made of silver.

"Uh oh." Lethos muttered with a look of serious intent coming onto his face.

"You, human!" The leader of this pack began, jabbing a finger at Sareth. "You are marked for death! No one dishonours Vayshan and lives!"

The elves had formed a half circle around them and then drew out their weapons, all crossbows with the strings taut.

"Now die you stinking ape!"