Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

  “You’ll have to forgive me for not offering you anything in the way of food or drink; we don’t get many guests.” Draxus smiled, a cat toying with his prey.

  Byron wobbled to his knees. “That’s quite alright, I don’t require much.”

  “I can see that. My boys found you with just the clothes on your back. Do you know who I am?”

  “I’m assuming you lead the Eval.”

  “That’s right. I lead. My name is Draxus.” Draxus leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “And now that you know who I am, that puts me at a distinct disadvantage. I don’t like that, not one bit. Makes me uncomfortable. So, that brings us to the question of the day: who are you?”

  “I’m no one.”

  “You sure this is the path you wanna pick, my friend? It’s a dark one. Lots of pain and a steep drop at the end. You really wanna walk it?”

  Byron closed his eyes. He was ready for it. For the pain. For the sudden drop.

  There was laughter. “This man right here doesn’t give a fuck!” Draxus stood and clapped his hands. “You boys could learn a thing or two from him. Nuts of steel.” Draxus lifted a leg and groped at his crotch. “I’m not gonna kill you. Not here. Not now. Not while curiosity has me so…turned on.” He grunted and thrusted his hips.

  Byron was angry. He was kneeling before the Monster in the North, his arch enemy, and still, death would not embrace him. “I’m Anthenian, you worm. Do you know what that means? Do you know how many of your kind I’ve killed?” A bluff, but he thought it sounded convincing enough to get the yellow-eyed beast to strike.

  “Anthenian!” he hissed, raising his eyebrows. “I figured as much; it’s the pale skin and the hair, gives you people away every time. But I didn’t want to offend by assuming.” Draxus snapped his fingers at the man standing over Byron’s right shoulder. “Elthor! Go get our guest, bring him in here.”

  As the henchman left the cold chamber, Byron’s mind began to spin. Thoughts of dying were replaced by white flashes of curiosity.

  “Curious what I’ve got in store for you?”

  Byron shook his head. “Bored.”

  “You’re not much of a liar, Anthenian. Your eyes give you away. They’ve got a bit of sparkle to them now.”

  Byron said nothing, afraid that his voice would give him away as well.

  Minutes passed. Commotion rose in the hall outside the chamber: feet shuffling, Elthor grunting commands. Two people entered the room.

  “My King!”

  Byron’s chest went cold. The secret was out. He turned to meet the eyes of his fellow prisoner. A soldier. Probably one of the two that’d been taken during the last attack. He recognized the face but couldn’t remember the name.

  Draxus sat forward, a smile spreading across his face. “Did I hear you correct, Sullivan? Did you just call him King?”

  Sullivan nodded. “I did. This is King Shalewind’s son, Byron Shalewind; he’s the acting King.”

  “My father is dead,” Byron muttered, just loud enough for Sullivan to hear.

  “Speak up, don’t be rude.” Draxus’ voice was fluttering with excitement.

  “I said, King Shalewind is dead!” Byron’s face darkened.

  “Oh, so you’re in charge now, yes?” Draxus asked.

  “I’m no one.”

  “You’re definitely someone,” Draxus shot back.

  “He’s the King,” Sullivan chimed eagerly.

  “Sullivan, why are you helping the Eval?”

  “Because he’s seen my power.”

  “Death has no power, it’s a foregone conclusion. The real power lies in how you embrace it. My mother taught me that before your people slaughtered her.”

  “Cut their balls off, let them bleed out slow; my mother taught me that.” Draxus crouched in front of Byron, clicking his teeth together curiously as he searched his face. “The King of Anthena walks right up to my doorstep without a single soldier at his back. What am I missing here? Pressures of being a leader too much for you?”

  Byron didn’t know what to say.

  “That’s how you’re going to play it? Keep your lips sealed, thinking I’ll just split your skull for you? Well, that’s not gonna do.” Draxus bounced on his haunches, wedging his tongue in his left cheek, appearing deep in thought. “Wonder if the Anthenians would open their gates for me if I came knocking with their King as my prisoner. You think the sight of you with a blade pressed to your throat might motivate them? Perhaps we should find out. What do you say, boys?”

  “I was exiled,” Byron blurted before anyone else in the room could agree.

  “You’re putting me on. Exiled? What kind of weak ass King gets himself exiled?”

  “Believe me or don’t. But I’m telling you right now, if you march me up to those gates they’re as likely to put arrows in my chest as they are in yours. But you’re welcome to try.”

  “What’d they exile you for? You fuck your sister? Blaspheme their gods?”

  “I loved the wrong woman.”

  For the first time, Draxus seemed lost for words. “You…what? I don’t understand. You rejected some other King’s daughter? Tried to marry a peasant? What?”

  “No, Draxus. She was one of you. An Eval.”

  Draxus laughed, long and loud. His men joined him. But it was unconvincing. “Oh, you fuck. You had me going. I almost felt sorry for you. Nothing happens under my nose that I don’t know about.”

  “It wasn’t under your nose. She escaped when she was young.” Byron reached out and grabbed Draxus’ arm, pulling him close. “You said you can read my eyes, right? Go ahead. Do it. What are they telling you?”

  Draxus’ naked harem drew their swords and descended on Byron.

  “Back, you vicious bitches.” He twisted his arm out of Byron’s grasp. “Our guest is merely enthusiastic, not dangerous.” He sighed and pursed his lips. “So, who was she?”

  “Aurora.” Saying her name opened fresh wounds. “Her name was Aurora.”

  “That’s a name I haven’t heard since childhood.”

  “You…you knew her?”

  “Of course. We were playmates. Hell…we were best mates. Then her folks up and vanished with her when she was about thirteen. My father sent men out after them, but nothing came of it; we didn’t waste much time, to be honest. They were Eval, after all. They knew how to hide, live off the land.”

  Suddenly Byron felt the urge to befriend Draxus, to pull up a stool with him, crack open some wine, and flip through the memory book of Aurora’s life.

  “She did a number on you, didn’t she?” Draxus reached out and stroked Byron’s cheek. “The King of Anthena gave up everything for some Eval pussy.”

  “Talk about her like that again and I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth before your dogs can so much as bark.”

  “Ah, calm down. I’m not trying to disrespect the girl. I was fond of her. She was like a sister to me. She can’t be blamed for the actions of her cowardly father. The man lost his will to fight. Aurora wasn’t like him. She was ferocious. Saw it even when we were kids; she kicked my ass more than once. How was she?”

  Byron bared his teeth.

  “Oh fuck, man. You’ve really gotta relax. I’m not asking about her ability to take a cock, though I’m sure she was a goddamned champion. I’m asking if she was tough? Could she still handle herself?”

  Byron nodded. “Toughest woman I ever met.”

  “Of course she was. Not like those soft cunts you Anthenians breed. She must have blown your mind. Did she love you?” Draxus got in close. “Tell me. Was it…reciprocated? Or were you just a dog chasing his tail?”

  He looked at Draxus with tears welling up in his eyes. “We were getting ready to leave together, to live on our own, when they found us.”

  “They?”

  “My people. Commander Eirik, leader of our forces, along with another soldier. My sister had them follow me. She’d been growing suspicious of my absences. They overcame us.”

  “Two me
n overcame the King of Anthena and an Eval ass kicker?”

  “Eirik is a good fighter. I am not.”

  “You admit it. I can admire that. Too many men can’t recognize their weaknesses; it ends up getting them killed. So what happened after that?”

  “She died for me…or because of me; I don’t really know which. But they executed her and they exiled me.”

  “Make no mistake, you pathetic fuck, it was because of you.” Draxus took a moment of silence to let his words sink in. “But there’s good news, Anthenian.”

  Byron raised his eyes, highly doubting that anything leaving Draxus’ lips would qualify as good news.

  “You can avenge her. You can take back your honor.”

  “Oh yeah? Let me guess, all I have to do is join you?” Byron snorted.

  “You act like you’ve got a choice, you royal cocksucker.”

  “Don’t I?”

  Draxus backed toward his throne, arms spread. “What? You mean kill you? Say I get creative, keep you alive, cut little pieces off of you for the next year or so.”

  Byron remained silent. Stoic. Upright on his knees with his chest puffed.

  “Nah, but that’s not what you want. I can see it in your eyes. The flames are stoked.”

  “You killed my mother. My people. I’d suffer the worst torture before I’d ever stand by your side on a battlefield.”

  “Sure, I’ve cut down an Anthenian or two in my time, fair play as far as I’m concerned. But I didn’t kill your mother. I was a boy when that happened. That was all my father.” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “You know, if it had been me, I dare say your mother would still be breathing. I’ve got a soft spot for unarmed, female non-combatants, which is more than I can say about your people.” He pointed at a spot on his chest where a heart should exist. “I know you’ve been programmed to view us as animalistic killers that want to rape your wives and fuck your sons. And I’m not saying there aren’t some twisted son-fuckers in our ranks, but what you’ve been fed are myths, my starry-eyed friend. Surely you know that. You’ve seen your people’s true colors.”

  “You may not have had a hand in killing my mother, but others did. You really expect me to stand beside men like that?”

  “Every man that had a hand in your mother’s death, including my father, is long past their prime; most are dead and gone from this world. You’re looking for monsters under the wrong bed. Your own sister killed the woman you loved and threw you to us. How much better do you think they treated us when they landed on our shores and stole our land? Do you still think their cause is righteous?”

  Byron worked his jaw back and forth, mulling over his convictions. “I don’t know what I can do for you. I’ve never stood on a battlefield, truth be told.”

  “Not everyone is built to swing a sword. A lot of the boys here fight because they have to, not because they want to.”

  Byron nodded. “I want justice for Aurora. I want to do right by her. I thought I came here to die. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?”

  “Maybe I came here to live again, at least for a little while. I figure we can help each other. Thing is, how do I know I can trust you?”

  Draxus laughed and sat forward on the edge of his throne. “No, motherfucker, how do I know I can trust you?”

  “What do you mean? I’m here. Look at me.” Byron was thrown off; he thought he’d finally stumbled upon some common ground with the savage.

  “You and your people have been trying to get to us for decades. Now you show up on our doorstep, this elaborate story in hand and you expect me to just believe it and let you off your knees. Don’t get me wrong, it pulls at the heart. I got a little mist floating in my peripherals. But I didn’t stay alive this long by letting my emotions yank me around by the cock.”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to say or do. All I’ve got are my words.”

  “I don’t know about all that.” Draxus stood and rubbed his hands together, savoring the tension. “Seems to me there is one thing you can do.” Draxus picked up the maul and smiled, dragging the metal head menacingly across the ground as he crept toward Byron.

  Byron recoiled and the man behind him kneed him in a kidney, forcing him back into place.

  “Relax. It’s not for you.” He let the maul fall to the floor in front of Byron with a dull thud. “It’s for him.”

  Sullivan, who’d remained silent for the majority of their discourse, whimpered and tried to shuffle to his feet, but he was pushed back down by two men with dirty, knotted beards. “But…I…I’ve helped you. I’ve told you things. Useful things.”

  “Debatable, sir. Highly debatable. But,” Draxus held up an index finger, “you’ll be pleased to know that you can serve one final purpose: the forging of a beautiful friendship.” He gestured to Byron.

  “I don’t…I don’t understand.” Sullivan’s teeth were chattering. His face was pale.

  “You’re a sacrifice, Sully. You will forge a blood oath between me and Byron. You should be proud.” He ruffled Sullivan’s hair. “Your life will actually mean something now.”

  Sullivan started to cry.

  Byron shook his head. “What is it you’re asking me to do?”

  “I want you to take that maul and whop Sully across the head with it.” Draxus demonstrated, smashing an invisible maul across the head of the sobbing, snotting Anthenian. “Crack his skull open like a melon. Let’s see if you can get it in one swing. Vipers, what do you think? You think Byron can get to the meat in a single stroke?”

  “He looks…strong,” Besilina hissed, moving behind Draxus and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “But look how he shakes. Like a leaf barely clinging to its branch. So full of fear. Not like our Master.” Jehona crouched on her haunches beside Draxus’ right leg, spreading her thighs, granting an unhindered look at what lay between them: a patch of black hair adorning thick, pink lips.

  “Please,” Sullivan squealed. He’d given up on beseeching Draxus for mercy and had turned his attention to Byron instead. “I was loyal to you! I served Anthena my whole life! I don’t deserve this!”

  “Fuckin’ lies. Don’t believe him, Byron. Sully has been a chatty little bird since he’s been in my custody. Why do you think he still has his wings? Let’s go. Let’s do this deal. The longer you hesitate, the more I doubt.”

  Byron’s stomach flipped. “Is this…is it necessary?”

  “Necessary? I thought you hated these motherfuckers? Didn’t you just say you wanted revenge? Well, it starts right here, in this room. Show me you want revenge!” Draxus kicked the maul closer. “Pick that motherfucker up!”

  “It’s just that…well…I’ve never killed anyone before.” He was sweating and his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth.

  “No time like the present.”

  “I can still help!” Sullivan bellowed, punching at the ground like a petulant child.

  Byron felt something like sadness. Something like empathy. Something he thought had died when the gates of Anthena had closed behind him.

  “Mirela!” Draxus growled.

  “Yes, Master?” She was the thickest of the three Vipers; full hips and swelling breasts.

  “Shut Sully up.”

  “My pleasure, Master.” She pounced like a cat and rammed a knee into Sullivan’s stomach. Sullivan had no time to register what was happening. “Hold the dog down,” Mirela commanded the two men standing behind him.

  They knelt on his back as he struggled to catch the breath that’d been taken from him by Mirela’s assault.

  “Dagger!” Mirela extended a hand and one of the men deposited a blood-stained blade in it. She held Sullivan’s face sideways against the floor with one hand, kneeling near the top of his head. She ran the dagger through one cheek and out the other, driving the tip into the stone floor, pinning Sullivan’s face to the ground. Sullivan let loose a crackling scream as blood pooled beneath his tattered cheek. Mirela got eye-level wit
h him. “Hush, dog! Hush!” Her eyes were wild. Begging for him to rebel. Sullivan’s screams of pain slowly gurgled to a halt, turning to silent tears. “He has been silenced, Master,” Mirela announced dryly as she returned to Draxus’ side.

  “Mean, ain’t she?”

  “She’s…something. Effective.” Byron’s words were uneasy.

  “No more wasting time. You pick that bad bitch up and you kill this fucking fucker! You want to step on the battlefield? Want your balls to drop? Want to do right by that woman you claim you love? This is where it starts. Baptized in blood. Rising up a new man. This is it. The moment of truth. Your last chance. I’m out of patience. You crush that motherfuckers head, turn that big talk into action.”

  He could hear the Eval behind him grunting and shuffling their feet with anxious anticipation. A million thoughts raced through Byron’s head. Seconds seemed like hours. But in the end, it all came back to the same two choices: either he picked up the maul and one of them died, or he didn’t and they both died.

  He was on his feet in a flash, maul in his hands. He turned on Sullivan and raised the heavy weapon high above his head, blind and screaming. Sullivan was begging, his words garbled by the metal in his mouth, his tongue flopping up-and-down, slicing itself against the blade. Byron didn’t make the decision to kill. He didn’t tell his arms to swing. One moment they were in the air and the next the head of the maul was embedded in the floor. Byron opened his mouth and tasted salt. His eyes burned. A sticky sheet of blood coated his face. He gasped and let go of the maul, stumbling backward, scrubbing frantically at his eyes with the backs of his wrists.

  “Well done.” Draxus was clapping.

  Byron fell back on his butt, breathing heavy, staring at Sullivan’s twitching body. The maul was standing upright where his head used to be, swimming in a meaty stew. Amid the wreckage was an eyeball, completely intact; it seemed to be staring at him reproachfully. The men that’d been positioned behind Sullivan were soaked in his cranial matter; giblets dangling from the tips of their beards like decorations. But no one seemed to mind. They were all smiling and nodding their heads, impressed by Byron’s commitment.

  A hand wrapped around Byron’s arm and pulled him to his feet.