Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

  Once silence returned, Dominic rolled to his side. “You know, I remember when I first met you.”

  She snuggled closer to him. “What’d you think?”

  “Thought you were the scariest, most beautiful goddamn thing I’d ever seen. And that’s saying something considering Loviatar was standing beside you.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled at the memory. “That’s right; the Lord Marshal had you swinging naked in the dungeons when we first met.”

  “Yes he did, yes he did. What did you think when you saw me?”

  “Your cock wasn’t all that impressive if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It’s not, but thank you for destroying what little self-confidence I had left.”

  She laughed and kissed him. “Aw, babe. It’s not about the weapon; it’s about how you use it.”

  He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You hated me for the longest time; I could see it in your eyes when we were on the road together.”

  “I hated what I thought you were…what I was taught to believe you were. If it makes you feel any better, I always wanted to fuck you.”

  “All you had to do was ask, darling.”

  “That’s not saying much considering you’d fuck just about anything.”

  “Almost anything.”

  She shoved him to his back and rolled on top of him, her hair falling down and curtaining both of their faces. “I guess my lust turned to love when your walls came down.” She poked the tip of his nose with her finger and he bit at it playfully. “When I saw it wasn’t all about the coin and the gunpowder and saw you actually gave a shit.”

  “I always gave a shit, I’d just tucked it away,” he was twirling a strand of her hair as he spoke, “just needed you to come along and remind me.”

  “You helped me too.” She patted his chest.

  “How?”

  She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Goddamn you and always needing me to spell everything out.”

  “It’s me, Lerah. Don’t you think I’ve earned a peek under the hood?”

  She grumbled. “You know, you’ve helped me with just…seeing things from a different perspective. I’ve never been one for believing in gods or anything. But maybe it’s something like fate. If you hadn’t come along—”

  “If I hadn’t come along you’d still be safe and secure. You’d still have a roof over your head and your father would still be alive. Silas never would have,” he stopped short, crunching the words between his teeth, “fate, gods, or whatever…it can go fuck itself.”

  “I wish you’d stop blaming yourself.”

  “Who else—”

  She cut him off with a kiss. “Hush. No more. I’m happier now than I’ve ever been. You know I’m a no bullshit kind of girl. I say what I mean. I love you, I’m happy, and the only thing you should be taking responsibility for is saving my life. Do you understand?”

  He nodded if only to pacify her.

  “Did you like it?” he finally asked, circling their conversation back to its starting point.

  “Like what?” It was unclear if she was avoiding the topic or had genuinely forgotten.

  “You know…your moment with the Queen, did you like it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” There was hesitation in her voice. “It was different. Are you jealous?”

  Dominic shook his head. “I reckon I’m not. What’d be the point? She’s a Queen and she’s a woman; I can’t compete with either of those.”

  “You wouldn’t pursue me if I left you for her?” She pouted.

  “Darling, unless I’m getting coin, I learned long ago not to chase something that doesn’t wanna be caught.”

  “A mercenary, even in love.”

  “Love doesn’t run.”

  “I suppose you’ve got a point.” She yawned and got comfortable against his chest. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, though. I love you. It was a onetime thing.

  29

  Byron was fighting a restless sleep when the door to his damp room creaked open. He shot up in bed, startled. After his eyes adjusted he saw two of Draxus’ Vipers—Jehona and Mirela—standing in the doorway holding torches; as usual, they were naked except for their swords.

  “Draxus wants to see you, now!” Mirela hissed.

  “Very well.” He groaned as he stood upright; the bed was nothing more than a slab of stone with straw sprinkled on top.

  He dressed and followed the Vipers down a series of long and narrow corridors; each one looked the same and he was sure if he tried to find his way back on his own that he’d become hopelessly lost. They seemed to be descending deeper underground. Byron thought of inquiring about their destination, but feared Mirela turning and plunging a sword into his belly; they’d leave him bleeding out in the bowels of the underground labyrinth, never to be found. They passed a few roaming guards and the occasional family hustling back from a late dinner. But most of the underground kingdom seemed to have settled in for the night; snoring and the occasional cry of a restless babe floated through the air.

  Byron began to smell a familiar scent: fresh, salty air. The ocean.

  “Where are we—”

  “Quiet, Anthenian!”

  The rebuke hardly mattered, soon enough his question was answered. The tunnel spilled out into a large ocean cave. From where Byron stood he could see the water entering the mouth of the cave; beyond that was a flat, glassy stretch of ocean. Around the edges of the cave were thin, uneven walkways. Beside those walkways, bobbing in the water, were six longboats. Draxus was standing in one of them, shirtless, shifting his weight back and forth, testing the buoyancy.

  He looked up from his feet and saw Byron flanked by the Vipers. “Byron, my boy! Did those vicious bitches stir you from your slumber?”

  “I was simply dozing, it was no trouble.”

  Draxus stepped from the longboat up onto the small ledge. “So,” he turned a quick circle, arms extended, palms up, “what do you think?”

  “It’s something.” Byron didn’t really know what to say because he still didn’t know what he was looking at.

  “It’s as if the gods themselves built it for us.”

  “The boats?”

  “No, you daft prick. We built the boats. We were building the things long before you stumbled in here. I’m talking about this cave…the docks. We’ll have better accommodations once we take Anthena from your cunt sister, but this will do for now, don’t you think?”

  “Sure. What’s with the boats?”

  “This is where it gets fun.” Draxus gave Mirela and Jehona a slap on the ass and dismissed them. “If we can’t approach Anthena by land, what’s our other option?” Draxus was looking at Byron, rubbing his hands together, anticipating the answer.

  Byron nodded. “I see.”

  “You see what, you fuck? You got something better?”

  “No, it’s not that I’ve got something better,” Byron said quickly. “These are fine boats and it’s a fine idea, but how do you plan on getting us on shore without being seen? They’ll fill us with arrows before we can get close.”

  “You should have just asked me that to begin with!” Draxus walked to the corner of the room and retrieved a large tarp from the shadows; it’d been sewn together from leaves. “This is the key.”

  Byron started to smile. “Okay, yes, this could work.”

  “Of course it could work. This is the big moment. You think I’m about to stumble into this with my dick limp? We’ve been working on this for months; gathering the lumber, weaving these big bastards.” Draxus let the tarp fall back into the shadows. “We only need six men to pilot the boats, there will be another standing at the bow playing navigator. The rest of the men will be hidden beneath the tarps. We’ll steer these right up their asses.”

  “There is a possibility that my sister will be present.”

  “Do tell.” Draxus rubbed his hands together.

  “She walks the markets and docks in the early morning wi
th Emily.”

  “Emily?”

  “Emily is her handmaid, but she’s like her sister. They’ve been friends since childhood.”

  “So if we can get our hands on this Emily cunt…”

  Byron nodded. “You can probably get my sister to do whatever you want.”

  Draxus pinched his cheeks. “I knew I loved you! Good. Then we attack at dawn.”

  “It’s sort of short notice, don’t you think?”

  “We’ve been preparing for this day for a long time. Don’t worry about anything else. You’ve done your part. Get some sleep. Tomorrow you ride with me.”

  30

  Dominic was to the door when Lerah called out for him.

  “Where are you off to so early?”

  “Hawthorne should be getting off his shift soon. Was gonna head down to the docks and have a little breakfast with him. Wanna come?”

  Lerah yawned and stretched before rolling onto her stomach. “Maybe I’ll catch up with you guys.”

  Dominic took that as no and quietly left.

  It was a cool morning, shrouded in fog; a red sun was just birthing across the horizon and doing its best to break through the gloom. Sleepy dockworkers surrounded Dominic as he moved languidly down the central staircase. In front of him, two women were walking side-by-side, their hair tied in messy buns. He noticed they both had cleavers attached to their hips and became painfully aware that he was the only one in the immediate vicinity that wasn’t armed.

  I’m not pulling another piece of ore out of that mine until there’s a weapon on my side.

  Outside of the tavern, a toothless, white-haired man stood shirtless and hunchbacked. He sucked a crooked cigarette and watched as each person passed, a sour expression distorting his features.

  “Morning, old timer.” Dominic tossed him a half-hearted wave.

  The man sneered and flicked his cigarette before turning and shuffling inside.

  “Drop dead, you old bastard,” Dominic mumbled.

  Despite traces of darkness still in the sky, Anthena was stretching its legs. A young teacher stood outside of the schoolhouse, a stack of books piled up beside her, awaiting the arrival of her students. Next-door, a doctor was unlocking the door to the clinic, half of his shirttail hanging from his pants. And below Dominic, to the right, on the other side of a waist-high stone wall, the open air market was taking its first big breaths of the day as folks began setting up their stalls.

  No one paid Dominic much mind as he moved through the market. The docks were alive; multiple ships were anchored and being unloaded by an assembly line of well-muscled, young men. A man with forearms the size of tree-trunks moved back and forth between the groups with a clipboard and a crude pencil in his hands, barking orders. Near the far end of the dock was Hawthorne’s vessel. The haul was being unloaded and the crew was departing via a narrow ramp. Dominic stopped and squinted, trying to spot Hawthorne. As luck would have it, he was the last man off the boat. He was chatting up the girl exiting in front of him; she was tall and slender, with red hair.

  Good for you, kid. Good for you.

  They stopped at the bottom of the ramp and continued their spirited exchange. She laughed and touched his arm and he looked as if he were about to jump out of his skin. Dominic waited patiently for them to finish their conversation, watching with an involuntary smile. The conversation ended with an awkward goodbye; complete with a hesitant half-hug and a few limp-wristed waves. When Hawthorne saw Dominic he ran to greet him.

  “Mister Dominic, that was her! Did you see her?”

  “I did. Pretty, young thing. You were right.”

  “We’re going to meet for dinner at the tavern before our shift!”

  “You went and asked her out? Good for you.”

  “After our talk, I decided to go for it. Guess she fancies me too. You think she fancies me too?” Hawthorne chomped at his bottom lip anxiously.

  “I’d say she does; she seemed to enjoy your company well enough.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too.”

  “I’m happy for you, kid.”

  “Thanks.” Hawthorne looked around. “Where’s Lerah?”

  “Tired. Said she might join us later.”

  “Join us?”

  “Yeah. I came down here to see if you wanted to get breakfast with me before turning in.”

  “Yeah, definitely. I probably need to wash up first.” Hawthorne’s clothes were stained with fish guts, his hair matted by saltwater.

  “I’m not gonna lie, you don’t smell pleasant.”

  They turned toward the tavern and stopped. Queen Roserine was coming their way, wearing a white blouse off her shoulders, an underbust corset, leather pants, and black boots; the sword on her hip was reflecting the first rays of sunlight. As she made her way through the market the guards straightened up, doing their best to appear necessary. She was greeted by reverent nods and beaming smiles; even the dockworkers halted their labor and removed their caps in acknowledgment of her presence. Emily was at her side; she had her hair pulled back, her dagger on her hip, and was wearing her signature scowl.

  Roserine held her arms out to them, overcompensating in her attempt to appear regal. “Dominic, Hawthorne, a pleasure to see you both mingling with the people at such an early hour.”

  “Hawthorne is just getting off his shift. I figured I’d come and meet him and perhaps grab some food before I head to the mine.”

  “Aw,” the sound was forced and nauseatingly saccharine. “That’s nice. You two are like a regular…family.”

  “Heh,” Hawthorne hiccupped, moving a step back and to the side, using Dominic as a half-shield.

  “He’s a good kid, ya know? He’s been a hell of a helping hand, I’ll say that. My kin were never much to write home about and they’re long dead by now. Hawthorne and Lerah are the closest things I’ve got.”

  “Well, you’re a lucky man.”

  “Thank you, ma’am…er, Queen. Luck and stubbornness have gotten me through most of my life.”

  “That’s been made most apparent, Dominic,” Roserine said.

  “Hopefully that’s a compliment.”

  “More an observation.” The breeze caught her red hair and wrapped it across her face. “Where is Lerah this morning?”

  Recovering from her encounter with you, my Queen.

  “She’s sleeping in. She’ll be along later. So are you just out for a stroll or did you come to see us?”

  “As much as I’m sure we both wish that were the case,” Roserine spoke with obvious sarcasm in her voice, “I’m actually here to see my uncle.” She pointed past Dominic. “That’s his ship. He’s not due back for another month; seems he wanted to…surprise me.”

  The ship she pointed to was slightly larger than the others occupying the docks; it had three triangle shaped masts patterned with red and white stripes, ten oar-holes on each side of the main body, and a crow’s nest. It’d opted to anchor in at the far end of the dock, leaving a large gap between itself and the next ship.

  “Not a pleasant surprise, I gather?”

  “You could say that. We don’t see eye-to-eye on certain matters. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  A haggard man, who looked as if he’d been molded from shit and dried in the sun, appeared at the top of the ship’s exit ramp. Beside him was Eirik, dressed in full platemail.

  “Well then,” Roserine clucked her tongue, “it appears as if Osiris has already been greeted.”

  “The nerve of that insolent bastard!” Emily growled with anger.

  “You’re talking about our mutual friend Eirik?” Dominic asked.

  “It’s a long story,” Roserine said. “You and Hawthorne are welcome to move along now.”

  “I’ll stay for a moment, if you don’t mind; sounds like you might need a little extra support.”

  Roserine thought for a moment and nodded. “Okay then, suit yourself.”

  Osiris moved down the ramp with an obvious limp in his st
ep.

  “You two stay behind me,” Emily ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dominic said as he fell in line with Hawthorne.

  As Osiris got closer Dominic could see the scars on his face and his misshapen knuckles; the man was a limping battlefield. He wore a large saber. His clothes were black-on-black, elaborately stitched and fitted.

  “Uncle, I was not expecting you.” Roserine begrudgingly accepted Osiris’ brief embrace before distancing herself from him. “And I definitely was not expecting you,” Roserine’s muscles grew rigid as she fixed Eirik with a wrathful glare. “Why aren’t you overseeing the command of your men?”

  Osiris cleared his throat. “The Commander was kind enough—”

  “I am speaking with the Commander, Uncle. I assure you, he doesn’t need you to take up for him.”

  Osiris managed a sour, tight-lipped smile.

  “So, Commander, what have you got to say for yourself?”

  Eirik shook his head. “Not a thing. I don’t think I have to explain coming to greet your uncle.”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?” Emily stepped toward Eirik with her hand on her dagger; despite him dwarfing her in size she showed no hesitation.

  “Back away from me, cow!”

  “Emily, it’s okay.” Roserine pulled her back by the elbow. “And as for you,” Roserine was in Eirik’s face, “if you ever speak to her like that again I will have you stripped of rank and beaten from these shores. Do you understand?”

  Eirik’s stoic demeanor seemed to be crumbling.

  “Answer when I ask you a question, Commander and look me in the eyes.”

  “I understand, my Queen.” There was an angry promise of reprisal hidden behind the mechanized words.

  “Now, now, no need for this to get ugly.” Osiris tried to separate the two of them with his arm; Roserine pushed it away and backed into Dominic’s shadow.

  “Why are you here, Uncle?”