Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

  “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Draxus kissed Byron on the cheek and laughed like a proud father. “Welcome to the Eval.”

  19

  Lerah awoke to the sun on her face and seagulls circling overhead.

  Dominic’s voice broke through the spell. “I don’t like this shit, kid.”

  “So let’s cut the ropes. We’ll figure something else out.”

  “Nothing else to figure out. Without sails, we’ll flounder at sea until we’re gnawing at our arms and drinking our piss. Nah, this is the only play we’ve got left, fucked as it is.”

  Lerah’s head was pounding. She rolled to her stomach and pushed up to her hands and knees. “What’s going on?”

  Dominic and Hawthorne were standing side-by-side at the front of the boat.

  Dominic shook his head. “Not quite sure yet, but this place sure is something.”

  Lerah stumbled up behind him. He wasn’t lying; the land before them was a sight to behold. There was a port lined with ships of every shape and size, masts rippling in the breeze. Men unloading crates and barrels of cargo. Merchants standing behind tables, shouting the prices of goods and services. It reminded her of the market at Genesis, but on a much grander scale. Surrounding the picture of industry were five, towering pillars. Beyond the market was a small, elevated city center with what looked to be an inn, a tavern, and a few stores. Above that, carved from the side of a sloping cliff-face, were hundreds of houses, divided by a large central staircase. Atop the cliff, sitting in an expansive field of green, was a rugged looking castle.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “Hawthorne and I have been asking the same question.”

  A larger vessel was towing them into port. Men dressed in leather armor stood at the back of the boat, watching them, gripping the handles of the swords sheathed at their waists.

  “You ever see anyone dressed like these people?” Lerah started looking around for a weapon.

  “Nah, never.”

  “Where’s my spear?”

  “Don’t know, sweetheart.”

  “I had it on deck with me. Pretty sure it went overboard with the storm,” Hawthorne said.

  “My bow? My daggers?” She was starting to panic.

  “Lerah, your bow is not going to do a damn thing for us and neither are your daggers, for that matter.”

  Lerah followed Dominic’s gaze across the water to the market. A contingent of soldiers, led by an imposingly large man dressed in shiny plate armor, emerged from the crowd and stood waiting for them on the docks.

  “What about the pistol?”

  Dominic sighed. “One bullet left.”

  “Perhaps if you hadn’t wasted them all whe—”

  “Not the time, Lerah.”

  He was right, it wasn’t the time, but having something to punch at made her feel better.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Just last night. We drifted. They found us and volunteered to help. Now I’m not so sure I made the right call.”

  “Not like you had much of a choice, I guess.” Lerah looked up at the splintered mast.

  The tow vessel pulled them alongside an empty dock. To their right was a large merchant vessel; some of the crew members looked down at them from the back of the ship, pointing, their conversation muted by the churning sea. Two dockhands approached and tossed a pair of grappling hooks at their crippled vessel; they landed on the deck with a clatter and were pulled tight, biting into the side of the boat with a crunch. All it took were two big tugs and they were flush with the dock.

  “Looks like this is it,” Dominic said as their boat was tied off and the soldiers closed in.

  The dockhands fled as the soldiers approached. The man leading the pack boasted a thick goatee and a fair share of battle scars.

  “Welcome to Anthena, travelers. I am Commander Eirik. Looks like you ran into some rough seas.”

  “We got smacked around a bit,” Dominic replied.

  “Some of you more than others.” His eyes focused on Lerah.

  Dominic pulled her to his side, taking her under his right arm. “She took a knock to the head, but she’s had worse; this girl is tougher than me, most days.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Lerah felt Dominic tense up at the perceived slight. She interjected before he could do something that would get them killed. “Um, Commander…”

  “Eirik, ma’am. And I didn’t catch your names?”

  “We didn’t give them,” Dominic shot back.

  “Um, yeah,” she cleared her throat nervously, “so I’m Lerah. Over there is Hawthorne. And this ray of sunshine is Dominic. Don’t worry, he’s friendly.” Lerah laughed.

  “Trust me, the last thing I am is worried.” Eirik rested his hand on his sword as he spoke. “So, Dominic, are you a soldier?”

  Dominic shook his head. “Just a man.”

  “Where you from?”

  “A place that no longer exists.”

  Eirik sighed impatiently. “What’s your business?”

  “Survival.” Dominic smiled.

  “Dominic is telling you the truth. We’re traveling merchants; taking jobs and trading goods as opportunities arise. We had no destination in mind. We didn’t know this land existed until the storm took control of our fate.”

  “You got any weapons?”

  “Most of what we had was taken by the storm.” Dominic threw a thumb toward the water.

  “We’ll need to search you.”

  “Don’t bother.” Dominic pulled his shirt up, revealing the butt of the pistol.

  “Commander,” an old soldier with a peppered mustache gasped, stepping in to get a closer look, “it’s a firearm!”

  “My eyes work just fine. Get back in formation.” Eirik took a step toward the edge of the dock, the toes of his boots hanging out over the water. “They have a lot of guns where you come from?”

  “Enough for us to kill each other.”

  “A lot of scars for a simple merchant,” Eirik said as he observed the puckered lines crisscrossing Dominic’s torso beneath his tattered shirt.

  “Seas get rough,” Dominic said.

  “Yeah, I bet they do.” Eirik stood silent for a moment, staring, deciding what to do with the gun and Dominic. “Alright. I’ll take you to see our Queen. But we’ll need to confiscate the weapon.”

  “Done.” Lerah grabbed the gun from Dominic’s waistband and handed it over before there could be any objection.

  “Follow me.” Eirik moved aside and allowed them onto the docks.

  “That knock on the head seems to have made you bossier than usual,” Dominic said as they moved into the market, flanked on all sides by soldiers.

  “Only when I need to be, dear; trying to keep you from getting another arrow in the ass.”

  “Eirik seems to be more of the stabby type. Quick thinking, by the way.”

  “I do a lot of quick thinking. You’ll have to be specific.”

  “Telling him we’re merchants.”

  “Yeah, well, not sure if honesty is the best policy here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing; lots of weapons and serious faces.”

  “How’s your ass feeling?”

  “A little sore, but your patch job is holding fast.”

  Hawthorne walked ahead of them, turning circles, taking everything in.

  “This place is something,” Dominic observed as a bulky woman with a pipe hanging from the corner of her mouth dropped a fish onto a blood-and-gut soaked table and plunged a knife into its belly. “Hope we’re not dealing with another Reeman situation.”

  Lerah laughed as if she’d just heard the world’s most ridiculous joke. “Look around you. You’ve got open trade. Laughing children. People seem to be living and fucking of their own free will.”

  “I see armed men everywhere and the mark of a tyrant.” Dominic nodded toward the castle.

  “Or the mark of a leader.”

  He shook his head.
“Leaders stand next to those they command; they don’t use them as footstools.”

  “You assume too much. Perhaps it gives her perspective.”

  “The best perspective is found by setting foot on the battlefield; hard to aim an arrow when you’re not the one holding the bow.”

  “This is hardly a battlefield. You’re worrying needlessly; you’d be hard pressed to find another like Mother in this world.”

  “Who said I was only talking about Mother? Another like your Lord Marshal would be bad enough.”

  Lerah shook her head. “They broke the mold with him as well.”

  “Nothing is off limits. Not for me. My mind’s wide open. Mother could rise up out of the ground, riding clouds of thunder and throwing lightning, and I wouldn’t blink.” Dominic laced his fingers through Lerah’s. “Nothing we can do about it now, though. We’re riding these tracks until they run out. How’re you feeling?”

  She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Head hurts a little, but I’m glad to be back on solid ground. Glad to be with you.” She kissed his arm and he kissed the top of her head.

  “You took a good hit. Had me scared for a second.”

  “Only a second?” Lerah pouted.

  “Maybe two.” He kissed her head again. “Hey, Hawthorne?”

  “Yeah?” Hawthorne turned to face them. He was walking backward, a big grin on his face.

  “Whatcha think?”

  “It’s swell, ain’t it? Sure beats the Glass Mountains, I think.”

  “I reckon so, yeah,” Dominic looked to Lerah.

  She nodded in agreement and gave Hawthorne a wink. Satisfied that he wasn’t alone in his enthusiasm, Hawthorne skipped ahead.

  Their presence had begun drawing attention from the bustling crowd. Those with taskmasters and customers carried on with their work, but those that could afford to—wives picking up the evening meal, beggars, children skipping school—stopped and stared.

  “How long have your people been here?” Dominic asked Eirik as they moved up the stairs at the back of the market and into the city square.

  “We date back to my father’s father.”

  “That’s…what? Little over a hundred years?”

  Eirik didn’t respond.

  “You built all this, established all this industry, in such a short amount of time? That’s impressive.”

  “There were those that came before us.” Eirik seemed irked by the not-so-subtle interrogation.

  “And they just handed all this over?”

  Eirik didn’t respond this time; he kept his eyes forward and marched stiffly.

  “Guess that answers the question about why you and your men are suited up for battle.”

  “Save any further questions for the Queen.”

  Dominic sighed and looked to Lerah as if his point had been made, but she ignored him and continued to admire the new land that was blossoming around them. She’d seen the worst that the world had to offer; this looked nothing like it.

  “What are you thinking?” Dominic was squinting, trying to read her.

  “Honestly, I’m thinking this could be home.”

  20

  Dominic found the throne room of the castle to be much like the exterior: rugged as if it’d risen straight out of the earth. The interior was cavernous, mostly void of ancillary décor; a few wall-hangings, four pillars situated at the front and back of the room, elevated fire bowls, a long set of stairs on the east side of the room that curved and connected with a balcony above the throne, and the throne itself, flanked by two soldiers with their hands on their swords.

  The main attraction was the Queen. Roserine. She had fiery hair falling across either shoulder. She wore a red, crushed-velvet dress, tied at the waist with gold ribbon; it had open sleeves that were stitched with swirls of gold to match. She was stoic, sitting straight-backed on the throne. She reminded Dominic of Lerah; beautiful and confident, strong in both mind and body. Eirik stood on one side of her. On the other side stood a stout woman with a dagger on her hip; definitely not a common servant. A bodyguard, perhaps?

  “So the sea was gracious enough to spit you onto our shores. You’re lucky. She isn’t usually so forgiving, especially with vessels of your size.”

  “Your people were kind enough to pull us in. We’re grateful.” Dominic bowed his head. “This is quite the homeland. Your people seem very…industrious.”

  “We Anthenians take pride in where we come from.”

  “It shows,” Dominic said.

  “And what of your homeland?”

  “There isn’t one to speak of.”

  “You came from somewhere.” Roserine extended an open hand to Eirik. He deposited the pistol in her palm. She turned it over a few times, fingers caressing the cold metal. “This came from somewhere. Surely you know the rarity of this item?”

  Dominic shook his head. “Where I come from, the only man not holding a gun is a dead one.”

  “You just said you have no homeland.” She raised a suspicious eyebrow.

  “I said there isn’t one to speak of. It’s fire and ash. Uninhabitable, I’m afraid.” He watched her finger as it moved near the trigger.

  “My sympathies. May I ask what caused this tragedy?”

  “The nature of man.”

  “War?”

  “War is the nature of man,” Dominic said.

  “Perhaps you’re right.” Roserine lifted the pistol and looked down the sights, one eye closed.

  “Ma’am…would you mind?” Dominic leaned out of the way. “There’s a bullet in the chamber.”

  She gasped and lowered the gun, handing it back to Eirik. “Apologies. In truth, I’ve never handled one, but I’ve always been curious. Men have brought stories of battlefields littered with bullet riddled bodies.” She folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head. “I prefer the sword. Pointing and squeezing a trigger, that’s something a child could do; there’s no honor in it. What do you think?”

  “I reckon dead is dead.”

  “You sound like a man that’s had some experience.”

  “Nope. Just a merchant, trying to survive.”

  “Uh-huh.” She sounded unconvinced. “So what is it you sell?”

  “Whatever we can find.”

  “Didn’t know it was such dangerous work.” Her eyes fell to Dominic’s scars, the same ones Eirik had taken notice of.

  “What can I say, not everyone wants to pay what they owe.”

  “Is that so? Where did you get that one?” She ran a finger down the right side of her face, drawing the scar that split the top of Dominic’s beard.

  “Shaving accident. Haven’t touched a razor since.”

  “That much is obvious. And what’s that I see beneath your shirt?”

  His Saboteur tattoo—the anchor and chain—was plainly visible through the slats of fabric clinging to his chest.

  “Family crest,” he answered calmly.

  “I see.” She turned her eyes to Lerah, to the scars Silas had forced Hawthorne to draw across her body. “And what about you? Shaving accident as well?”

  Lerah conjured a smirk. “Fell off a horse.”

  “That’s good. Not quite as convincing as shaving, but creative nonetheless.”

  Lerah took a small bow.

  “What about this place?” Dominic circled a hand above his head. “It doesn’t exactly appear to be a wonderland of safety.”

  “What do you mean, exactly?”

  Dominic scratched at his beard. “On the way in here, I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve got everyone carrying a weapon; even the kids.”

  “We’ve had a few issues with tribes coming across our borders. It’s a simple safety precaution; nothing we can’t handle.”

  Dominic knew it was bullshit. He remembered what Eirik had said about those that had come before, but he thought it best to not press the issue while they were still bartering for a roof over their heads.

  “And what of this one, does he speak?” She greeted H
awthorne with a smile.

  “Yep…yes…I speak.”

  Eirik stamped a boot against the ground. “You will address her as Queen! And raise your eyes, boy!”

  Hawthorne shrank back, his body curling in as if he’d just taken a blow to the stomach.

  “Hey, fuck-face,” Dominic growled and stepped forward.

  “Excuse me?” Eirik’s cheeks turned red.

  “You better watch how you talk to him or I’ll drive that sword up your ass and pull it out of your mouth.”

  “Dominic, don’t!” Lerah pleaded.

  The two men behind the throne drew their swords as Eirik looked to Roserine for direction.

  “Queen, this outsider disgraces you! He spits in the face of Anthena!”

  Roserine sighed and crossed her legs. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think, Commander? What say you, Dominic?”

  “My quarrel lies only with Eirik. I mean you no disrespect, Queen. But if he talks to my friend or my lady like that one more time, I’m gonna strip that armor off him and beat his ass to death with it.”

  “There you have it.” Roserine looked up at Eirik, clearly amused. “His quarrel lies with you.”

  “Am I supposed to let this stand?”

  “You are supposed to do as you see fit, Commander.”

  “Very well, I will.” Eirik had been let off his leash. He drew his blade, going slow for effect, watching Dominic for a reaction that never came.

  Dominic smiled as the familiar high of impending combat took hold of him.

  Lerah grabbed Dominic by the back of the arm. “This is stupid. He’s got a weapon, you don’t.”

  Dominic cracked his knuckles. “Take Hawthorne and step back.”

  Eirik closed in, sword angled back over his right shoulder. “Time to teach you some manners, merchant!”

  Eirik was a tall man; about as tall as Dominic. The plate metal covered most of his body and gave him a distinct advantage; you could punch at it all day and he wouldn’t feel a thing. But where others saw obstacles, Dominic saw opportunities; even the best armor had its weak spots.

  Eirik swung to kill.

  Dominic leaped back as the tip of the blade passed inches from his face. Eirik was good; he didn’t allow for downtime between his attacks. He moved right into a stab, driving his sword straight at Dominic’s heart.