The King's Ring (The Netherworld Gate Book 2) Read Free

they had just been. Sparks and bits of flaming wood exploded out from the impact.
    The two gnomes rolled away, Jaleal smacking an ember that had landed in his beard and flicking it away before it could do much damage. They took to their feet again and looked around themselves. The top layer of smoke seemed to hold in the heat as a silvery layer of smog filtered through the open spaces. Everything glowed red and orange. Phinean stood and looked at a massive heap that must have once been a mighty building given the large foundation and the crumbled remnants that Jaleal could identify as having once been cupolas. Great streaks of black painted the ground stretching out from the pile. Hissing flames and popping explosions rumbled through the pile, shifting materials and consuming anything not made of stone or metal. As Jaleal looked closer, he realized that the center of the pile was sunken into a large crater. Only then did he realize how massive the building must have been before it collapsed.
    Phinean stared at the burning pile and stretched out a single hand.
    “We have to get out of here,” Jaleal said.
    “Jahre,” Phinean said. “He was inside there when I left to find you.”
    Jaleal glanced to the pile and then shook his head. “Come on, no one could have survived that.”
    The warrior gnome tugged on Phinean’s arm, dragging the stout gnome as he rushed down the street. They followed the crowds as they darted through rubble-filled streets and picked their way around burning heaps until they escaped.
    Jaleal counted thousands of people sitting on the ground outside the city walls. Brown dirt and gray ash covered their bodies. Some were tending to scrapes and cuts they had received while escaping. Others sat and stared out blankly. Families huddled together.
    The gnomes broke out toward the green trees of the forest. Phinean turned and looked back at the city many times, muttering something that Jaleal couldn’t quite hear. When they finally found a place to sit, Jaleal looked back and whistled through his teeth as he surveyed the scene. It had been hellish on the inside, but looking at the city from the outside didn’t do much to improve the situation. Flames shot up into the sky, tearing through the blanket of jet smoke, and screams could still be heard faintly from behind the walls.
    A seemingly endless column of escapees streamed out through the gates.
    Only one thing Jaleal could think of would do this kind of damage. He turned to Phinean. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll find the dragon that did this and we will put him down.” He stood and flashed his spear, spinning it over in his hand for effect before stamping the butt end into the grass. “I have hunted dragons before.”
    Phinean shook his head. “This was no dragon,” he said. “This was a man.”
    “A man?” Jaleal shook his head and looked at the city. “Not possible. I have fought alongside a powerful sorceress, and this is very much beyond even her ability. No man could do this.”
    “Talon could,” Phinean said.
    “How?”
    Phinean motioned for Jaleal to sit. “Medlas was a city built atop a great deposit of natural gas that resided deep within the bowels of the earth. The elves long ago created a network of pipes and pumps to use that gas to improve the city. With it, they could heat their homes, light their streets, and produce great boilers that heated the bath houses and also fueled some of the best forges in the Elven Isles. It appears as though he has managed to sabotage them.”
    Jaleal stood slack jawed for a while, then he sat next to Phinean and whistled through his teeth again. The two of them were silent for a few moments as they watched the chaotic scene before them.
    “Perhaps it is too late,” Phinean said. “Jahre is dead.”
    Jaleal wrinkled his nose and looked to Phinean. “What about these artifacts you say Talon was after? Does he have those too?”
    Phinean shrugged. “Jahre foretold that he would