“Firae, eyes like a falcon. Nose like a hound. Ask questions, poke around. Firae, Firae.” I come to. Face to face with Rourke now, I’m sitting in a chair, in a dark room. “A precaution, don’t worry. You’re not going to be harmed. Done a lot of falling recently, haven’t we?”

His teeth and eyes glimmer as he talks, illuminated by a sole globe of mystic light hovering in the corner of whatever room this is. It’s not unlike the room in which Valicia regurgitated the prophecy which has bound us all. Another secret fortification, shelter, in this marble-hewn city. Though, something’s different about this room.

“Ah, you’ve pieced it together, then?”

“You said I have eyes like a falcon. How’s someone from the Under supposed to know what a falcon is?” The words leave my mouth faster than I expect them to, with little hesitation. I almost spit them at him.

“So keen. Wise. I suppose you know where we are, then, Firae?”

“We’re in Il Allad, aren’t we?”

“So wise.” He smiles a genuine smile, his eyes shutting as the two words exit from between his fangs. Rourke. The barkeep. He always was something more than he let on. Service to Valicia, running a bar. Made of wood? None of it made much sense. “It’s amazing, I can see you working everything out in your head. Your eyes dart back and forth like dragonflies across the surface of a pond, hunting, searching. You’re looking for a missing link, though?”

“I am.” Something tells me he’s good. If he wanted me dead, I already would be. I have to trust him, though it’s not as if I have a choice.

“I don’t have a ring that says Ilban on it, or anything like that, if you’re looking for that.” He smiles that reptile smile. My reaction, judging by his own, is thinly veiled. “If you’re going to be sulking around and scouting out Lady Valicia’s stronghold, you’d be wise to be more subtle. If I was able to figure out your plans, it’s not a surprising notion that some of the Empire’s top minds might?” He places a dagger on a stone-hewn table sitting next to my chair. “We’re not in Il Allad, really. Not fully. Glasniv, and the section of the Under that we reside in, it’s mostly closed off from any surface entrances. You and your friend Arrol broke open one of them.” He sighs. “There’s one other. This room, it’s a bridge. Above us is the city of Il Allad. Right above us.” He looks up, and I follow suit. The ceiling is carved marble, or some type of stone at least. However, it’s also reinforced with metal and wood beams, like it’s holding something up. “We’re below a fortification on the exterior of the city.” He picks the dagger up, now, walking around my back to my right side, now. “Up is fortification. Down? Straight down, it’s the Under, proper. The massive caverns everyone knows of. Not our little corner. But, this little room, it’s the bridge between them all. We can go up, should we need to. We can go down into the Under. And, we can go out. That door…” He points the dagger at a door across the room from me. “A tunnel, a run. A thin, dark tunnel, like a vein, running through the underground. I crawl through it on a daily basis. It’s got twists and turns. False directions. Breaks. Traps. And it’s the only other way into Glasniv. You wanted to know who I was? I’m Rourke. Bartender. Servant of the Lady Valicia. A Xykyn. And also the Heritor of the Earthvein.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Heritor of the… Earthvein?”

“Heh. Does it sound like a joke? A made up title? I didn’t choose it, but I’m in charge of it. I keep an eye on the surface. We have patrols at the drop you and your fellow fell in, but I’m the only one who goes above.”

“The only one?”

“Well, that we know of. There are stretches of uncharted caves that might eventually lead to the Under proper or to the surface, but nobody’s ever tracked them.”

“So why drug me and drag me out here to tell me all of this?”

He pauses his strut, and the dagger in his hand lowers to his side. “Because you’re my falcon, Firae.” The dagger falls to the floor. “I suppose you know what a falcon’s purpose is?”

“It’s to hunt.” I understand, now.

“No more waiting for them to come to us. Not for us two. Arrol, Aelwyn, Azur, Dulwain, Valicia. Cowardice is in their nature. But you, you’re a predator. I’ve seen it in your eyes. In your spirit. You’re a falcon.”

“So…”

“They hide, we hunt.”

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. Is this what needs to happen? Is this smart? Shouldn’t I be focused on protecting Valicia more than killing soldiers of the Empire? Waiting accomplishes nothing, though. Arrol… Valicia has a competent guard corps to protect her, and she’s powerful in her own right. My hands tremble a bit.

“Well, Falcon?” Rourke says. “Are you going to hunt? Or fly back to the nest?” His reptile eyes pierce me, black pupils looking through me like a blade through butter.

“I suppose I’ll hunt. Might as well thin out their numbers before the real battle.”

“There we go.” He smiles. “Let’s spread our wings, then, Falcon.” He kicks something across the floor towards my chair. A crate. I stop it with my feet, and pull off the lid. A silvered crossbow sits, positioned safely in a cotton padding. “Grab your talons and we’ll begin.” Bolts and a crossbow. Not my first choice, but I’ve shot them before.

It’s time, then. No more waiting or preparation. I grab the crossbow. A dagger sits below it in the crate. “How many days have you been waiting to do this?” I ask Rourke, while examining the crossbow.

“Far too many. Empire pigs will finally pay.” He pulls on a rope that’s wrapped around a wooden ceiling beam. The door he pointed out earlier which led to Glasniv is obscured by a collapsing panel. A rope drops, and Rourke grabs onto it after slinging a crossbow of his own over his back, then begins to clamber up. “You’re next.” He says, before scaling the rope as though it were a ladder.