Free Obsidian Ridge by Jess Lebow Page B

row of low hedges had been planted just outside the southern edge of the palace. The groundskeeper, in her infinite wisdom, had placed them several strides away from the building, so they had room to grow and mature. After almost ten years, the hedges were still considered young. Though they were not very tall, they were quite full, and the space between them and the palace gave the Claw easy, unobserved access to and from the courtyard where he nightly met the princess.
    Tonight was just like most other nights. The outer buildings that surrounded their rendezvous were shut up tight. The spring air was warm, and the new blossoms on the trees filled the courtyard with their sweet fragrance—a romantic place for a late night meeting.
    Coming around the corner, the Claw passed the tall
    statue of Mariko’s mother, the queen. She was posed with an open book in her hands, looking down at the pages. Every time he came into the courtyard, the Claw couldn’t help but think that she was watching him. He wondered sometimes whether or not she would approve of his rendezvous with the princess.
    Slipping past the statue, he entered the courtyard and made his way to their meeting spot near the center. He was quite late, but despite his tardiness, he was the first to arrive. That was unusual but not unheard of. Especially considering the arrival of the black fortress.
    Still, something wasn’t right. And after waiting in the courtyard for some time, he started to get concerned. The sun would be coming up soon, and with every passing moment, the chances of meeting the princess were growing smaller.
    The Claw’s long day had become even longer. As he slipped out the way he had come, he glanced up at the stone carving of the queen.
    “I’ll find her,” he said.
    Then he headed down the thinly paved road toward the docks—the stomping grounds of Llorbauth’s underworld.
    +++++
    The shadows near the Obsidian Ridge seemed unnaturally dark. Even in the dead of night, the looming citadel cast a pall over the homes and lives of everyone in Llorbauth.
    Though he was still quite a ways away, traversing the road from the palace to the docks was the closest the Claw had been to the hulking mountain. More than simple blackness, or even the foreboding sense of unease that it gave off, there was power here. Great power. He couldn’t be certain, but he could have sworn he heard a high-pitched humming, as if the entire citadel were vibrating, pushing the air around it.
    Moving cautiously through the trees and brush along the side of the road, the king’s assassin froze in his tracks.
    He heard voices carrying on the wind. At least two, maybe more. He stopped to listen. They were gruff and deep, and it sounded as if they were just up ahead.
    Slipping quietly through the brush, he approached what appeared to be two men. Both on horseback, they sat in their saddles, looking this way and that in the middle of a tight curve on the main road.
    “They better get here soon,” said one. “I’m not all that happy about waiting for our Elixir in the shadow of that… thing.”
    “Nor am I,” replied the other.
    Moving in a little closer, the Claw crouched in the heavy brush only a few steps away. From this part of the road, neither the palace nor the entrance to the docks were visible— the ideal location for an illicit rendezvous.
    “Do you hear that?” asked one of the men.
    The Claw didn’t move. His heart raced. He’d been preoccupied with the Obsidian Ridge. Had he given himself away?
    “I heard nothing,” said the other.
    “No, listen,” insisted the first. “Coming from the docks.”
    The sound of horses drifted in off the water and mingled with the breeze rustling the leaves. Then a coach came into view. A driver and a guard sat up front, side by side on a single wooden bench. Both jingled with chain mail.
    The carriage had two compartments, a traditional one right behind the driver, and another attached to the top for more important