The Howling Delve
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Kall mounted the steps and crossed the shattered threshold of his home. He saw Balram come out from behind one of the pillars, bloodied and flush from the fire.
Kall noted the bites and scratches. "I see you've met my wife," he said.
Balram did not speak. His gaze flicked to Dantane and Meisha as they flanked Kall in the doorway.
"Welcome home, Kall," said a voice from the doorway. "Now step forward."
Kall smiled. "Am I to be forever finding you just over my shoulder, Aazen?" he asked.
Aazen stepped around them, kicking aside glass and debris to make a path. He half-led, half-dragged Varan in the crook of one arm. In the other, he held a long dagger at the wizard's throat.
Meisha stiffened, but Kall motioned her and Dantane to step forward ahead of him. He kept his back to them and his eyes on Aazen as they moved fully into the hall. "You're a hard man to find, Balram," Kall remarked as Aazen circled around to join his father. "And I've been looking for you a long time."
"I'm flattered. But you shouldn't have come back," said Balram. "Now all this will end in much the same way it began. Except this time"—he touched Aazen's shoulder, and the look of paternal pride in his eyes sickened Kall—"my son will kill you."
Aazen lowered the wizard to the floor and handed his father the dagger. Balram took the blade and settled it back against the wizard's throat. Aazen drew his sword.
Meisha took a step forward, but Balram pivoted so she could see the folds of Varan's skin lying atop the steel. "Move again, and my hand will slip," he promised.
Dantane drew her back. They stepped aside as Kall and Aazen approached one another. To the surprise of all, it was Kall who moved in first, banging his blade off Aazen's with a loud ringing.
"You're not hesitating, Kall," Aazen said, swinging through the parry. "Won't you try to convince me to stand down, to help you kill my father?"
Kall blocked a low thrust. "I told you I would never use you to get at Balram. I asked you to turn from the Shadow Thieves. You'll never be able to trust them."
Aazen drew his blade back, following up with a snapping kick aimed at Kall's midsection. Kall dodged, but caught the brunt of the kick against his bound arm. The pain teased stars from the corners of his eyes.
"I trusted you," Aazen said. "No matter what mischief you convinced me to take part in, you always looked out for me. In your house, I was safe."
"But you trust your father more, because no matter how twisted his love, you believe blood will never betray you," Kall replied.
"Yes." Aazen blocked a flurry of short attacks and reeled when Kall surrendered his advantage to strike with his fist. The punch glanced across Aazen's throat. He folded into a defensive crouch, but Kall followed, forcing him to move back and block while he choked for breath.
"But it's you, Aazen, who loves him beyond reason. He's buried you so deep in his control you don't know the way out. I thought I could convince you to come with me, but I lost you that night in the cemetery, didn't I? I didn't even realize."
"Shut up," Aazen said, whipping his sword around and biting Kall's arm again. The pain was brilliant, but it was still nothing compared to being burned by a demon. Kall stepped into the move, allowing Aazen to deepen the wound. In doing so, Kall put himself right in Aazen's space. Aazen pressed the attack, oblivious. He believed Kall would weaken, favor his arm, and retreat.
Kall batted Aazen's blade aside, flipped his own blade to his off-hand, and grabbed Aazen by the throat, lifting him bodily from the floor. Blood streamed down Kall's arm, but he held on, pressing his fingers in under Aazen's jawbone until his sword fell from his hand.
"Aazen!" Balram cried, and for the first time there was real fear in his voice.
"Kall, stop!" yelled Meisha, who saw what he intended.
Kall ignored them both and released Aazen. His friend dropped, falling onto Kall's angled blade. Aazen grabbed Kall's shoulders to keep himself upright. Kall held him steady. He leaned forward and spoke against his friend's ear, but he meant the words for Balram.
"He was always faster, more graceful, when I was all limbs and bone. Laerin taught me better. A half-elf taught me how to beat him." He slid the blade from Aazen's stomach. "A dwarf taught me how to live."
He stood up, but Balram's eyes were fixed, horrified, on his son. "Aazen," he whispered. The knife went slack in his hand.
Kall reacted, closing the space between him and Balram with speed that would indeed have made the half-elf proud. Kall's sword, wet with the son's blood, found the father's heart with no fight at all from Balram. Kall drove him back and off the ground, drawing the knife away from Varan's throat.
Balram's body hit the ground in a pool of the spilled oil. The latent flames from Meisha's fireball touched the puddle and ignited, and Balram joined the fire that slowly consumed the wood skeleton of Morel house.
Kall backed away, making no move to put out the flames. He took Aazen's arms and slung his friend's body across his shoulders. Dantane lifted Varan, and Meisha took Varan's other side as they headed for the doors.
"This way," said Meisha, She waved an arm and the flames covering the door folded aside, boiling in orange swirls. The group slipped out through the small opening into the outer yard.
"Dantane," said Kall, laying Aazen down on the grass.
Glassy-eyed, Aazen watched in resigned silence as his lifeblood soaked the green lawn. The scene reminded Kall of that day on the Esmel shore, when Haig had saved Aazen's life. Those boys were long dead, Kall thought. "Hurry," he said.