Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

“Can an Uncle not visit his niece in her hour of mourning?”

  “My hour of mourning?”

  “Why yes, Commander Eirik was just filling me in on all of the misfortune that has befallen you these past few weeks.”

  “Oh, was he?” Roserine’s hands were on her hips.

  “Don’t be mad at Eirik, my dear. Should it be of no importance to me that my brother is dead and that my nephew turned into a traitor?”

  “Be very careful how you speak. You were a shadow in Byron’s life. You will leave your judgments on your ship or I’ll have you barred from these shores.”

  “Will you now?” Osiris smirked and looked to Eirik.

  “What was that?” Roserine pointed at each of them.

  “Boats entering the harbor!” someone to Dominic’s left announced.

  He turned and noticed six longboats entering the empty space in the harbor next to Osiris’ ship. They were lined up in two rows of three. The cargo in each boat was covered by a thick tarp.

  “I don’t have anything on the schedule for today. Who the hell are these people?” The man with the oversized forearms poured over his clipboard; searching the text line-by-line with a spastic index finger.

  Roserine didn’t notice all of this happening; she was focused on the blooming alliance between Eirik and Osiris.

  “What was what?” Osiris asked with feigned innocence.

  “Don’t play games with me, Uncle.”

  “There are some things that have come to my attention that I’d like to discuss with you.”

  “What things?”

  “Things concerning the future of Anthena. But we shouldn’t discuss this here. How about we head up to the castle, hash this out over some wine and good food? I’m starving. Eirik, are you hungry?” Osiris tapped the back of his hand against Eirik’s breastplate.

  “I could eat.”

  “There we go. Food makes everything better.” He tried to take Roserine’s arm but she twisted away.

  “You’ll go no further. Eirik, go and see to your men.”

  “Eirik, remain as you are,” Osiris spoke calmly.

  “The Queen gave you an order!” Emily was back in Eirik’s face.

  The back of his hand collided with her right cheek and she spiraled to her knees, spitting blood. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

  Dominic heard all of this happening, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the six longboats. The front two were in the midst of being tied off and he thought he saw something moving under the tarps.

  “Dominic, what is it?” Hawthorne asked.

  “There’s something moving under those tarps.”

  Roserine didn’t hear Dominic, she’d drawn her sword and Eirik had drawn his.

  “You will be executed for this!” Roserine twirled her sword, the point passing between Eirik and Osiris. “Soldiers, to me!” she yelled. Summoning them was unnecessary as they’d already begun running across the market. Twelve of them arrived and stood between Eirik and Roserine; their swords were drawn but their postures weren’t aggressive.

  “My Queen, what’s going on?” His hand was shaking as his eyes passed between her and Eirik.

  “Strip Commander Eirik of his weapon and lock him in the dungeons!” She was reaching down to help Emily to her feet.

  “That bastard!” Emily snarled through cracked lips.

  “Let the soldiers handle it. Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” Emily flexed her jaw.

  “Men, you are to ignore that order and stand down!” Eirik bellowed. “Roserine is not the rightful ruler of Anthena. This is your rightful King: Osiris Shalewind, brother of Valerick Shalewind, gods rest his soul.”

  The soldiers were now more confused than ever.

  “My father never named a successor!” Roserine protested.

  “Indeed, he didn’t,” Osiris said. “Your brother was to be his successor. But we know how that turned out. Anthena has never been ruled by a woman; it’s…not proper. As his brother, I am here to claim my right to the throne and set Anthena back on its proper path, with my first order of business being the defeat of the Eval.”

  “And I stand beside him and support his claim to the throne. I expect the men under my command to do the same.”

  The soldiers looked at one another and began sheathing their swords.

  “You betrayed me! You swore an oath to my father!” Roserine sounded more hurt than angry.

  Eirik nodded. “I swore an oath to protect Anthena and you; this is me doing both. You’re not fit to lead, you’d only get yourself and everyone around you killed.”

  She shook her head. “You miserable bastard.”

  “Now, there’s no need for that,” Osiris said.

  “I was referring to you, Uncle.” Roserine’s smile was venomous. “Eirik is just a bastard.”

  “I could still use you at my side.”

  “No,” Roserine sheathed her sword, “you’ll get nothing more from me. You want Anthena, it’s yours.”

  Dominic had begun creeping toward the longboats, knees bent, Hawthorne lurking at his back, his eyes on the tarps. The dockmaster was approaching the front left boat, waving his clipboard.

  “Where you boys sailing from? I don’t recognize ya.”

  That’s when Dominic saw it: the head of a spear peeking from under the tarp and the toe of a boot.

  “Ambush!” he shouted. “Get away from that boat! Move!”

  The dockmaster was staring down into his watery grave. He turned his head toward Dominic just as the tarps across all six longboats were simultaneously ripped back and the men waiting beneath each one sprang to life. A spear slammed into the dockmaster’s chest and tore through his spine; he dropped his clipboard, threw up a bucket’s worth of blood, and fell sideways into the ocean.

  “Eval!” people started screaming.

  “Men, form up! Form a line!” Eirik commanded.

  “My Queen, we must—”

  “No, Emily, I want to stay and fight!”

  Dominic wasn’t waiting for any of them. The Eval were charging and so was he; the ones in the back making their way boat-to-boat in order to attack the docks. The closest one to Dominic was the Eval with the spear. His face was smeared in black war paint—most of their faces were—and his teeth were bared. Dominic looked him in the eyes, unarmed and unafraid. The Eval warrior lunged, the blood of the dockmaster still dripping from the end of his spear. Dominic stepped right and allowed the spear to go under his left arm. He clamped down on it, twisted, and snapped it in half with his right elbow. Without missing a beat he turned on his heels and lodged the business end of it in the side of the warrior’s neck.

  The Eval were off the longboats and spreading out across the docks. The folks from the market that had weapons to fight were running toward the chaos. The unarmed and the fragile were sounding the alarm and seeking refuge.

  As Dominic let his impaled prey fall to the ground two more Eval warriors began to circle him like vultures; one had a spiked club and the other held a dagger.

  Goddamn, what I would do for a weapon.

  The one with the club raised his weapon to strike but Hawthorne appeared, ramming his shoulder into his stomach and taking him to the ground. There was a moment where the Eval warrior with the dagger was distracted by Hawthorne’s entry into the fray. Dominic seized it. He grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the dagger and twisted. There was some audible snapping as fibers ripped and bones broke. As a cry of pain began to escape the Eval’s lips Dominic hit him in the throat with the bridge of his hand and followed up with two monstrous blows to the center of his face, all the while twisting his wrist, trying to get him to let loose of the dagger. Finally, the dagger fell from the Eval’s grasp and Dominic caught it and drove the blade into the center of his chest over and over again before dropping him to the ground. He turned and saw Hawthorne wrestling over the club with the Eval he’d tackled; he was on his back, firmly on the losing side of the battle, using both
hands to keep the club from crushing his throat. Dominic grabbed a tuft full of the Eval’s hair, yanked his head back, and cut his throat with one, swift, confident motion. A spray of blood shot outward, misting Hawthorne.

  “C’mon, kid. Get up and grab that club. It’s fight or die time.”

  The docks had erupted into a battlefield. Soldiers and armed civilians rushed into the fight against the encroaching Eval horde. The notes of war—metal against metal, torn flesh, the copper smell of fresh blood—mingled in the air and played a familiar song in Dominic’s ears. The Eval weren’t gaining ground, but they weren’t being so easily pushed back. They were hardy, weathered men that fed off of the fight, they were men that raced toward the abyss, men that were spurred forth by the promise of glorious death; crazed smiles dotted their faces and with every deflected blow, with every crunch of bone, with every splash of gore that drenched their boots, they only seemed to fight harder. The Anthenians fought like they had everything to lose. Every incoming blow sent a shudder through their bodies, every knife in the gut brought forth a desperate cry from their lips as they feebly attempted to cling to the life leaking from their gaping wounds.

  Osiris had fled the fight. He was halfway up the ramp to his ship, pulling his bum leg along behind him, leaving Eirik to cover his retreat. Eirik was doing a damned good job of it, too. He was taking the Eval two at a time.

  Roserine stood behind her soldiers, her sword drawn.

  “Emily, get out of here. Take some men and make sure the citizens are safe.”

  Emily held her dagger in a reverse grip, her face swollen where Eirik had struck her. “No, my Queen; I will remain at your side.”

  “Emily, I’m ordering—”

  “You’ll just have to lock me in the dungeons later; I’m staying here. End of discussion.”

  Dominic ran to Roserine’s side, holding a sword he’d retrieved from the body of a fallen soldier. Thirty-feet in front of them the battle raged, eclipsing the docks and the water and the longboats the Eval had used to sneak ashore. It was impossible to tell which way the scales were tipping.

  “You need more men,” Dominic said, watching the Anthenians slowly shrink against the savage horde.

  Roserine nodded. “You’re right.”

  Dominic grabbed Hawthorne’s arm. “You run your ass as fast as you can, get more soldiers down here. And tell them to keep some boys around the castle and to get positioned on the north wall as well. This could just be something to draw our attention away from the real target. Now go!”

  As Hawthorne ran for reinforcements, Roserine looked up at Dominic, clearly impressed. “That’s some quick thinking…merchant.”

  “I’ve seen my fair share of battlefields. But the way I hear it, you’ve been made aware of that.”

  She nodded. “Well aware.”

  Without warning, the wall of warring bodies in front of them crumbled like a faulty structure. Anthenian soldiers were cut down like cattle. A crowd of Eval rushed toward them through the fleshy gate, mouths stretched wide, emitting primal roars.

  “Merchant, are you as good with a sword as you are with a gun?” Roserine asked as she took up a defensive posture.

  Dominic raised his sword above his head. “I don’t know, but I tend to do okay when it comes to killing.”

  “Not the vote of confidence I was hoping for.”

  “Way I see it, you’re short on allies, sweetheart.”

  “You make a point.”

  Dominic nodded. “Alright, ladies, you ready?”

  “On your command, merchant,” Roserine said.

  “Now!”

  They ran out to meet the Eval. No hesitation. Never hesitate. Dominic learned that during the Great War, back when he fought in the trenches; you might still die, but at least make the bastards work for your blood.

  Roserine had speed where she lacked strength. She blocked, ducked, and drove her sword into the chest of the first man that crossed blades with her. She pulled it loose and rolled away as a club slammed the ground she’d just been standing on and fractured the cement. Before her attacker could raise his weapon for a second strike, she swung her sword underhanded, slicing him from groin to neck, opening him up like a zipper. He stood there for a moment with his tongue lolling from his mouth, eyes wide, looking dumbfounded as his innards started to spill from his body.

  Dominic was vicious and deliberate. He met the blow from his first target with an overhead block and slid his blade up the handle of a rusty, double-headed ax. For a moment he was face-to-face with his enemy; what looked like a beast from a distance suddenly turned into nothing more than a man. Their eyes remained locked; two warriors staring into each other’s souls, searching for weakness. There was none to be found. Dominic slammed the pommel of the sword into the Eval’s misshapen nose, splintering the bridge. The battered savage didn’t cry out in pain, he grimaced and fell back a step, taking a clumsy swing at Dominic’s neck to try to ward him off while he regained his composure. Dominic batted the defensive attack aside and closed the gap as he raised his own sword behind his head. When he was within range he brought his blade down as if he were trying to cut a tree at a diagonal angle. The thirsty metal ate right through the Eval’s collarbone and split him to the middle of his chest. The ax fell from his hands and clattered dully against the wooden planks beneath his feet.

  “Where’s Emily?” Roserine attacked and spoke, spinning on her knees and chopping an Eval’s legs in two.

  Dominic looked around briefly before turning his attention to his next two attackers. “She was beside you.”

  “She got sucked into the skirmish. Emily!” Roserine yelled.

  “Just focus on staying alive.” Dominic cut down his closest attacker and warded off another with a strong side-kick, trying to get enough room to set up a sturdy guard. He dispatched another aggressor by grabbing his arm and pulling him onto the end of his sword, gutting him. He saw a flicker of movement to his left. He’d been flanked. There was no way he’d be able to defend in time. Still, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

  He spun around, hoping for the best and a torrent of blood washed across the left side of his face, blinding him in one eye. Lerah was standing there, the Eval crumpled at her feet, the top of his head cleaved, his gray matter bubbling up from beneath the pieces of his shattered skull.

  “Little late, darling,” Dominic said as he cleared the blood from his eyes.

  “I get points for the entrance, though.” She smiled and so did Dominic. They were together again, in the thick of it, doing battle side-by-side.

  “These are the fucks Anthena has been at war with, I assume?” She looked past Dominic, watching Roserine as she ripped the life from another Eval.

  “They ambushed us; they were under our skirts with their dicks in our asses before we could even bend over.”

  Another Eval broke through the wall of Anthenian bodies behind Lerah. Dominic was about to warn her, but she was already moving. He was running and swinging wildly. Lerah kicked out and caught his wrist, breaking it and knocking the weapon out of his hand. She swung twice, slashing him across the chest, drawing a jagged X in his flesh; he fell back, screaming and dying slow.

  Dominic and Lerah joined Roserine as she moved to reinforce the line.

  “My Queen,” Lerah said as she fell in beside her.

  “No need for formalities today. Please, help me find Emily.”

  “We need to watch each other’s backs. Keep our formation tight. Don’t let them get an angle on us. We can’t do Emily any good if we’re dead.”

  They stood back to back to back, each of their swords dripping with blood. There were bodies everywhere. The clanging of metal and the screams of the dying filled the air. Anthenian reinforcements were running toward them from across the market. Soon they would push the Eval back into the sea.

  A horn blew. It was loud. Loud enough to overcome the cacophony of battle.

  All at once the Eval warriors disengaged and backed t
oward the longboats, weapons still at the ready.

  “My brave warriors, stand down!”

  Dominic couldn’t see who the voice belonged to.

  “Will Queen Roserine step forward? Is Queen Roserine present or did you motherfuckers kill her?”

  The line of Anthenian soldiers parted as Roserine moved toward the voice.

  “That’s not a good idea,” Lerah protested, grabbing her arm.

  “These are my people. Who else is supposed to go in my place?”

  Lerah nodded and her fingers fell free.

  “We’ve got your back,” Dominic said with a reassuring nod.

  The three of them emerged from the line of soldiers, stepping over bodies. Down the line, Eirik emerged as well; his platemail was splattered with the blood of his foes. Whatever negative feelings stood between him and Dominic, there was no denying that he’d pulled his weight on the battlefield.

  Behind the line of Eval were the longboats. Two men stood side-by-side in separate boats. The largest and meanest looking of the two had black dreadlocks and eyes that were the color of the sun. His tongue traced a pair of dark lips spread in an unmistakably devilish smile. The other man was much more familiar, much plainer, with sandy blonde hair and unscarred skin. In fact, if Dominic didn’t know better, he’d say the man looked downright Anthenian.

  And then there was Emily.

  She was bloodied, battered, and in the clutches of the man with dreadlocks. He grasped her hair with one hand and pulled her head back, exposing her neck, and laying a six-inch blade against her left jugular.

  “Let her go, you—” Roserine stopped mid-sentence. “Byron!” she gasped, her attention turning to the sandy-haired man. “How could you? You’re with the Eval now? These people killed our mother!”

  Byron shook his head and glared back at Roserine with rage-filled eyes. “We killed our mother! Anthena killed her! Make no mistake, sister. When we arrived on these shores and took what wasn’t ours, we dug Mother’s grave.”

  “They’ve twisted your mind, Byron!”

  “No, dear sister, my mind is clearer than it’s ever been.”

  “It appears that I underestimated the depths of your treachery. You’re no longer my brother. On this day, you’ve made yourself my enemy and if given the chance I will treat you as such.”