Son of the Dragon (The Netherworld Gate Book 3) by Sam Ferguson Page A

half-drawn from its scabbard.
    Lysander grumbled to himself as he dropped a few coins on the table and scooped up his book. It was time for him to move again

CHAPTER 6
     
     
    Talon arrived at the castle just as the sun was beginning to set. The stone structure was not nearly as large as the drow castle Talon had retrieved the Key from only days before, yet the two-storied fortress was well built, and seemed to have been erected with little concern for expense, as intricate stone work, and several towers stood as testament to the abilities of the Selemet stone masons. Talon also noted the local Tantine guards manning the main entrance, as a throng of several hundred elves had gathered there. An old priestess stood upon a wooden platform, addressing the crowd. Talon drew his hood as far over his face as possible, making sure to blend in with the crowd.
    That was when someone bumped into him. Talon turned, but the elf apologized without even turning to look at him. Talon watched as the elf, obviously a person of wealth and position given the robes he wore, and the manner in which he expectantly moved other spectators to the side, continued through the crowd, pushing and weaving his way through the bodies. As he came to the front of the crowd, the elf called out to the priestess in a loud voice that commanded respect.
    “As a former member of the Council of Selemet, I must voice my concern,” the elf said.
    The priestess stopped and glared down at the intruder. “You presume too much, Master Fillion,” she said. “As you have just admitted, you are a former councilor, and therefore you have no right to speak here.”
    “My daughter’s blood, spilled for a myth, has purchased my right to speak here tonight.” Fillion said with a grand sweep of his arm. He paused for a minute as the crowd murmured, clearly recognizing who he was. “Beyond that, my service as an honorable councilor should persuade even you to hear my words.”
    Talon smiled as the tension rose within the crowd. He could care less about the argument’s merits, but he did relish that it gave him the perfect opportunity to slip through the crowd toward the building, just as Jahre’s letter had said it would.
    “Priestess, you stand here tonight ready to recruit new members into the Kruks. Yet, the Kruks are destroyed. Jahre is dead. Was it not he who had the power to help you select recruits?”
    “I can select my own agents without his help,” the priestess said tersely.
    “Have you told those gathered here that the Kruks were destroyed by one man? Do they know that it wasn’t even an elf that nearly conquered your entire order?”
    At this, a murmur rose up in the crowd. Talon used the sudden commotion to slip closer to the castle. If he could make the alley on the right side of the building, he could steal his way inside.
    “That fact is irrelevant. What does matter is that we rebuild the order.”
    “Why?” Fillion replied as he threw his arms out wide and turned to the crowd. “All of the ancient relics are now inside this building. Each of the three items are here, under one roof. Why not lock them away and simply guard them yourself? There is no need for further bloodshed. The Sierri’Tai are dead. No one could survive banishment to the Netherworld. It is ludicrous to continue this archaic system. The Svetli’Tai Kruks must be disbanded.”
    Now came Talon’s moment. The crowd erupted into shouts and heated arguments.
    “So much for the wisdom and sense of the elves,” Talon whispered aloud to himself. He slid out from the throng and glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one had seen him.
    They hadn’t.
    The priestess was locked in a debate with ex-councilor Fillion. The crowd was nearly tearing itself apart. None of them even noticed the assassin as he rounded the corner and entered the alley. He found the side door just as the map had depicted. His hands went to the strange lock on the knob.
    The cylindrical hunk of metal had seven