Salt Storm: The Salted Series: Episodes #31-35 by Galvin, Aaron (top 5 books to read TXT) 📗

manage something better than that loyal servant of the queen’s, the old and loyal crone who shouted her defiance to the end, eh?”

“Is . . . is my son alive?” Darius asked. “Is Jun really alive?”

“I suspect so,” said Malik. “My seawolves have yet to find any trace of your sweetling prince. Then again, I wouldn’t worry, Your Grace. We’ll find the boy soon enough and send him off to meet you in Fiddler’s Green.”

Darius choked at the admission. “Why?” he asked. “Why are you doing this, Blackfin? I welcomed you back into this city with open arms and raised you to your father’s place.”

“My father served you and yours long and well, it’s true,” said Malik. “And yet it’s little secret among my people that Orcin Blacktide often dreamt of climbing that last rung upon the ladder. Of raising our kind to take up the mantled rule of the Ancients as They always meant for us to do.” He chuckled. “No doubt my father smiles upon us even now from Fiddler’s Green, Your Grace. Aye, just as the people will no doubt welcome the reign of Orcs when learning of their weakling king’s demise at the hands of a Nomad assassin.”

Orcish rule . . . and a Nomad assassin? Sydney thought, looking to Quill and finding him silent on the matter. Oh, my God . . . she recognized the deeper meaning of the Blackfin’s words. They’re going to frame you for this, aren’t they, Quill? The Blackfin and his Orcs are going to pin everything from today on you and the Nomads!

Malik released the king a moment, if only to clap Darius upon the shoulder and cause him to yelp. “Rest easy and go to the green waters in peace, Your Grace. The people will never know of the weakness you displayed here today. In truth, I think the greater tragedy is that Lord Bowrider and his Merrows could not protect you from the savage assassin.”

Couldn’t save him? Sydney glanced to Rupert beside her in wonder of the Blackfin’s words.

The puzzled question on Rupert’s face vanished a second later when Sydney heard a quarrel whizzing through the air. Her mouth rounded in silent horror when the loosed quarrel found its new home in Rupert’s unprotected throat. The velocity sent the gurgling Merrow lord stumbling back, his grip bringing Sydney along with him as he tripped over his own feet before collapsing.

Sydney caught herself upon the bloody stones. Her eyes widened at the sight of Rupert strewn beneath her, betrayal and fear in his eyes, his mouth working open and closed in choked attempt to breathe through the fountain of blood gushing free of his wound and pooling around him. As suddenly as he fell, the Merrow lord ceased moving, his eyes growing still and dull.

Sydney moaned and wheeled around to find Malik’s second-in-command, Solomon, lowering his crossbow. She thought to rage against him too, and might have done too, had she not also seen the Blackfin motion to his fellow Orcs. Sydney estimated the other seawolves would come to restrain her again, then. Before any could, she fled across the tunnel toward Quill.

Sydney careened into her true father, drinking in the scent of his leather jerkin and the safety of his sinewy arms. When his hand brushed against her skin, she thought he meant to take her and leave.

Quill did not flee, however, his right hand guiding Sydney to move behind him whilst his left was already bringing his sword to bear once more for any who might come against them.

None did, the focus of each and every Orc upon their leader at the center and the trembling Merrow king still within his grasp.

“Foolish lad, that Bowrider boy,” Malik said to Darius. “But, one can always trust the young to follow their heart, rather than their head. Who knows that better than you though, my king, eh?” He laughed. “Still, I hope young Bowrider would have taken some solace in knowing there will be songs to sing about him. A handsome, tragic hero taken far too early from us, and all thanks to the noble sacrifice he made to protect his king and realm. No doubt the people and his father will mourn him for a valiant, final stand. A true warrior, loyal to his king unto the bitter end.” Malik smiled as he glanced in Quill and Sydney’s direction. “And with a family reputation for finning Nomads, I shudder to think what young Rupert’s famous father will do when receiving word that his son was slain by a Nomad assassin.”

Sydney seethed for every word the Blackfin spoke. Again, she looked up to see Quill’s steely gaze suggesting he too well understood the Blackfin’s implications. In her true father’s eyes though, she recognized that Quill would accept the consequences all the same.

Malik turned back to the king. “You will pass along my condolences to young Master Bowrider when you meet him in Fiddler’s Green, won’t you, Your Grace? That is, if the green waters truly exist.” He drew a dagger from his belt. “Then again, there is that other place you might be sent. The dark and deepest of hells from which there is no escape, nor hope of light.”

Sydney gasped when the Blackfin sheathed the blade in Darius’s ribs. Despite herself and all that she had been through at the king’s orders, Sydney could not stop the tears from falling upon her cheeks at witnessing the fear and hurt in the one she had so often named father before learning the truth of him.

The Blackfin endured the king’s pawing at his armor and neck. “Peace, my king,” he said, shushing his victim as Darius’s strength waned. “Sleep well and know that your kingdoms will live on, safe in the hands of a stronger ruler who will stop at nothing to raise this once valiant city to its former glory.”

In his final moments, the king seemed to have little regard for the Blackfin and his betrayal. As the