Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

  “Was wondering if you’d come this way…if you’d come at all.” She stood and brushed the earth from her butt.

  “Then why’d you wait?”

  “An excuse to get away.”

  He looked around at the wide open field, void of human life. “This is the place to do it.”

  “I am surprised you’re going to the mine after everything that happened.”

  “I told the guys I’d be there today; I’m a man of my word.”

  “I admire that, Dominic.” She emitted a mournful sigh. “It appears I’ve gone from Anthena’s beloved to her scorned in less than a day.” She was hugging herself tightly against the wind.

  “War has a funny way with people.”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “If it ain’t, then I don’t know what I’ve been fighting all these years.”

  “I guess if anyone would know, it’d be you.” She drew nervous lines in the dirt with the toe of her boot.

  “What is it, my Queen?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t…don’t call me that, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s just words, you know? It only means what they say it means. And look how quickly it can be taken away.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that; with a single breath.”

  “I suppose that’s true with most things.”

  “I suppose it is.”

  “But it doesn’t change what you are.”

  “And what is that?” she asked, staring at the patterns she’d drawn in the earth.

  “A leader.”

  “A leader who lost her throne.”

  “That’s bullshit, Roserine. A leader doesn’t need thrones, or titles, or castles. Being a leader is about what you do. It’s about making the tough calls, being willing to risk everything in the name of not betraying your convictions. Emily is your friend—”

  “She’s more than that: she’s selfless, she’s brave, she’s been loyal to me and to Anthena…she’s been by my side through everything.” She held her arms out and then let them flop limply to her sides. “What was I supposed to do, turn my back on her when she needed me the most?”

  Dominic put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me, Roserine.” She raised her head. “You did the right thing. Loyalty and love are rare in this world; you protect it when you find it. I’ve stood in your shoes. For a long time loyalty only ever seemed to go as deep as my coin purse. But then I met Lerah and that’s when I found the authentic stuff. I almost lost her and I walked through the gates of hell to get her back because she was worth it. Do you understand what I’m saying? You’re a leader. One of the strongest I’ve ever seen.”

  Roserine smiled. “You know, Lerah told me about you and about what happened to her.”

  “Yeah. It’s been a bumpy road.”

  “I can’t imagine going through the things she’s been through. She’s a strong woman.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “You know…we—”

  “I know, Roserine; you two had a moment together.”

  “You’re okay with it?” Her brow furrowed.

  “I don’t know what I am, but I’m not mad at you or her if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I’m not going to lie, I have feelings for her. But she loves you and I respect that.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “The three of you are good people. I’m afraid I misjudged you.”

  “I’ve misjudged plenty of folks; I can’t fault you for being cautious after everything you’ve had to deal with.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, because I hope I’m not misjudging you now.”

  “Not sure I understand where this is going.” He’d been asked for a favor enough times to recognize the preamble.

  “I’m asking you to stay and help; you, and Lerah, and Hawthorne. I need you. You saw those people down there. You were the only ones standing by my side. I know Coen is with me, but he’s got no fighting experience and he’s under Eirik’s thumb.”

  “Listen, I feel for you. I really do. But I made a promise that I’d protect Lerah. In the past, I’ve done a pretty shitty job of it. If I can get her and Hawthorne out of here before this place goes to hell, I’m gonna do it. I’m not waiting for the bomb to go off this time.”

  She took his hands. “Dominic, please? You made a promise to me as well. When I gave you refuge you promised me you’d do your part.”

  “Yeah, by smashing rocks. Not by going to war against your brother and his caveman boyfriend.”

  “Dominic, without your help…” She trailed off and turned her face away, still holding onto his hands. “Osiris doesn’t care about Emily. He’ll kill her if it means destroying the Eval. I want them dead as much as anyone, but not at that price; I’ve already lost all the people I’m willing to lose. So please, stay and help me fight?” Her grip grew tighter, more desperate, refusing to let go until he submitted to her plea.

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll stay and help you get Emily back.”

  She almost knocked him over as she threw herself against his chest and wrapped him in her arms; she was deceptively strong. “Thank you!” Her voice was muted against his chest.

  He rubbed her back with a single hand, not quite sure how to react; the authoritative leader had been reduced to an emotionally ravaged, roadside maiden.

  She released her grip and backed away, smiling sheepishly. “I suppose I should head to the castle; I fear what Osiris may be doing to the place. I’ve got to face him at some point; may as well go at him head on and get it over with.”

  “That’s usually the best way to go about things.”

  “Thanks again, Dominic.”

  32

  “That went spectacularly!” Draxus stood with Byron in the subterranean harbor, the longboats anchored beside them. Emily was lying on her stomach at Draxus’ feet, her hands bound, his boot on her back.

  “That was too close. It easily could have gone the other way. Do you know what they’d do to me if they got their hands on me after a move like that?”

  Draxus shrugged. “I’m assuming something drawn out and painful. But we got this fat cunt and now the tides are shifting; I can feel it. You did good. Your sister was right where you said she’d be.”

  “I said she would most likely be there. Some days she doesn’t walk the market until noon.”

  “Some days, but not this day.” Draxus patted Byron’s cheek. “You’re too uptight. Celebrate. Go find yourself a woman, fuck her, let your balls loose.”

  Emily spit on Byron’s shoe. “Traitor! Your mother would be ashamed! Selling out your people! Your own sister! Shame on—”

  The sickening crack of Draxus’ boot biting into Emily’s face filled the room. “Quiet, you pig! This is my realm! And in my realm, you will open your Anthenian cock receptor only when I tell you to!”

  Emily squeaked like a trapped mouse as blood oozed from her torn lips and pooled on the rock beneath her face.

  “Gods, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Byron said as he looked down at her squirming form. He saw so many things he hated in her quivering flesh: his traitorous sister, his tyrannical father.

  “So do it,” Draxus said, curling one side of his mouth. “Kick this cunt as hard as you want, just don’t kill her; not yet, anyway.”

  When Byron looked down at Emily he expected to see her face staring up at him, pleading for mercy; to see the defiant, cocky bitch begging him not to hurt her would have satisfied him. But what he saw was not a plea for mercy. It was defiance. A bloody sneer of defiance.

  He kicked her in the stomach and she crumpled and puked. He stomped her ribs and felt them bend and snap. He used his heel to grind the back of her hand until the skin tore and she wailed like a sick infant. He didn’t touch her face; he wanted to see every bolt of pain as it shocked her features.

  “Beg me to stop, you bitch! I want to hear you beg!”

  Draxus placed a hand on his chest and forced him back. �
��I said don’t kill her.”

  “She looks alive to me.” Perhaps less alive than she’d been thirty-seconds ago, but still alive.

  “You’re done. You can have her when we no longer need her.”

  “And when will that be? Do you really expect them to just hand over Anthena?”

  Draxus looked at Emily quizzically, chewing his bottom lip. “I don’t see why not. You said your sister would do anything for this slab of meat; so far you’ve been right.”

  “Roserine may not be pulling as many strings as we think. Eirik, the soldiers he commands, they’re not going to be happy about her letting you go.”

  “We’ll know soon, one way or the other. I’ve already dispatched scouts to keep an eye on the wall. For the time being, we’ve got a contingency plan to form; let’s see if we can pull any pearls of wisdom from this pig.”

  “Emily is a bitch, but she’s a tough bitch. She won’t tell us anything; at least nothing that I can’t tell you.”

  Draxus knelt and wiped his fingers through the bloody phlegm bubbling at the corner of Emily’s mouth. “A little torture can go a long way.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to risk killing her?”

  “I’m not talking about an Anthenian hack job.” Draxus pulled Emily’s head back and forced her to look at him. “You ready to sing for daddy?”

  She spat in his face. “You will never get me to betray my people!”

  Draxus didn’t even bother wiping his face; he smiled as if he’d gotten the response he was hoping for. “I’m going to break your nose now. I want you to understand that this is as good as it’s going to get for you. As you’re laying here and that pain is seizing through your head, as those tears are flooding your eyes, I want you to realize that this is as good as you’re gonna feel unless you tell me the shit I want to know.” Draxus held her head steady and punched her three times in the center of the face, leaving her nose flattened and crooked, thin lines of blood leaking from the ruined nostrils. Her eyes rolled. He let her head fall against the rock and stood, wiping his hand clean on his pants as she began to snore.

  As his rage subsided, Byron felt something similar to pity as he looked at Emily’s disfigured face; a sickness began to rise in his stomach.

  Draxus took notice. “It’s natural to feel that pull. That sympathy. You’re looking at a member of your own species at their lowest point. They’re vulnerable, like a howling babe in a crib; you want to reach out and comfort them. I felt the same thing when I killed my first man.” There was nostalgia in Draxus’ voice. “It was messy. My messiest kill to this day, believe it or not; I’ve smashed heads, so you can imagine how fucked it was. I was a kid when I did it. We’d had this guy locked up; little water, even less food, reduced to skin and bones. My father wanted to see if I had what it took to be a real Eval, to carry on his name when he was gone. He handed me this blade. I remember it had this stone handle.” He was looking at his palm as if he could see it laying there. “He pushed me inside the cell and told me I could come out when the deed was done. So here I am, standing in this cell with this emaciated fuck dangling in front of me, his face lit up by torchlight, and I’ve got this pathetic little knife. As I draw closer to this shadow of a man he starts bellowing for mercy; I can still hear him.” Draxus sighed and shook his head as if empathy was only a minor inconvenience. “I still had that little boy’s heart, so I started bellowing for mercy too.”

  After a considerable stretch of silence, Byron asked, “So what did you do?”

  “I did what my father asked, I stabbed the sonofabitch. It took a long time for him to die; the blade was too small to get in deep and pierce anything vital and I wasn’t tall enough to slit his throat.” Draxus laughed. “Imagine me, this little kid, jumping up and down, trying to land hits on this grown man flailing around in front of me. Eventually, he ran out of energy and blood; he shit himself and died, the way they all do.” He poked Byron in the chest over his heart. “You’ve got to kill the little boy in here. You’ve got to harden this thing up or it’ll put you in the ground. Just because we’re the same species doesn’t mean we’re equals. Some of us are just bags of meat, hanging in a dungeon, waiting for our turn to go to slaughter. I like to think that the poor asshole I killed that day served his purpose: he allowed a boy to become a man.” He prodded Emily with the toe of his boot. “And she will soon serve her purpose.”

  Draxus was right; he had to toughen up and kill the little boy. His father had been telling him the same thing; perhaps his father was right too, he’d just been right for the wrong reasons. It was the only way he could get the vengeance that Aurora deserved. Emily was just a bag of meat. She would serve her purpose. She would play her role in Byron’s cycle of vengeance. And then she would go to slaughter.

  33

  The tavern didn’t feel quite as warm as it had before. When Dominic walked through the doors he could hear conversations starting and stopping, his name being whispered drunkenly; there were pointed fingers, and stares that were held a few seconds too long.

  He saddled up to the bar and took a place beside Coen, who was sitting huddled over a half-empty mug of wine.

  “How you doing?” Dominic asked without looking at him.

  “You know…I asked Emily to marry me last night?” A single tear fell from his eye and splashed into the wine.

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry; that’s a tough break.”

  Coen gave a crooked nod and polished off the mug. “Roserine told me you were staying…that you’d help.”

  “Did she?” The last thing he needed was someone making promises on his behalf. “Well, I’m gonna damn well do what I can. I know what you’re going through.”

  Coen fell against him, stinking and drooling, and draped an arm around his neck. “We go together and we kill all of them. Alright? We kill them all. Eirik be damned. Roserine’s damn uncle be damned. Anthena be damned. We do it…me and you.”

  “That’s traitorous speech you’re uttering, soldier. Won’t have none of that at my bar.” Rinebart slapped his calloused hands down in front of them.

  “Oh, piss off, Rinebart,” Coen slurred.

  Rinebart ignored the drunken aggression, his attention now turned to Dominic. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up here, considering your actions today.”

  “My actions? You mean fighting for a land and a people that aren’t even my own? Did your ass even come out from behind this bar, old man?”

  “You stood against the rightful King.”

  “No King of mine. I stood beside a woman that gave me and mine a roof over our heads and food in our bellies, a woman that I’ve seen labor for this land and its people, a woman that was out there, sword drawn, standing against the Eval while your King tucked tail and ran.”

  “A woman ruling Anthena? Bah! It wasn’t appropriate. Osiris is the rightful heir.”

  “That woman you scoff at is stronger than most of the men I’ve seen since I’ve been here, including you; she’s the reason you get to run your mouth and serve shitty drinks. And just for the record, Osiris is a coward.” Dominic spoke louder than he needed to.

  Rinebart’s voice turned to a growl. “Best thing for you to do is take that simple boy and that meddlesome girlfriend of yours and hightail it out of here on the next merchant ship; things are getting dangerous around here, I’d hate to see misfortune befall you.”

  “Best thing for you to do is get me a drink, otherwise I’m gonna come over this bar and misfortune is going to befall you quick and in a hurry.”

  Coen belched a laugh. “Tell this old…prick…Dominic!”

  “I hear anymore treasonous talk from either of you and I’ll report you both; I’m sure they’ll find you a nice, comfortable cell in the dungeons.” Rinebart poured Dominic a drink and placed it just out of reach before walking away, grumbling under his breath.

  Dominic sighed and stretched across the bar to grab the mug. “Sonsofbitches like that will end up sinking this place. They’ve got
no backbone; it’s all follow and no lead.”

  “Sonsof…sonsofbitches.” Coen’s forehead was plopped against the edge of the bar.

  “Christ, kid. How much have you had to drink?”

  “I dun…I dunno. I miss my Emily,” he sobbed. His sobbing turned to moaning and then to semi-conscious snoring.

  “C’mon, you can’t do this shit.” The wine tasted warmer than it had the day before. “Self-pity is an attractive hole to crawl into, but I advise against it if you wanna get your girl back.”

  Coen turned his head sideways, his face still on the bar. “What else do you want from me, Dominic? Huh?”

  “If you’re trying to make a case that the drink is helping you keep it together, you’re not making a very good one.”

  “Oh, piss off.” Coen flicked his wrist weakly before turning his eyes back toward the ground. “Emily…my Emily.”

  “Yeah, well, guess what? Emily is fucked if you cross swords with her captors in this state.”

  “Cross swords? Where will we cross swords? We’re stuck behind a damned…wall.” He pounded the bar and overturned his empty mug. “There’s no rescue! No one gives a damn! Osiris has ordered the gates closed. No one leaves. So I drink.”

  “At some point, those gates will open and Osiris will move on the Eval. You will get your chance on the battlefield. Trust me when I tell you that you do not want to step on a battlefield after staring at the bottom of a bottle; I’ve seen men do it and it doesn’t go well.”

  Coen started to sob again.

  Dominic went to take another drink but thought better of it. “Come on, soldier. Let’s get you home and sobered up.” Dominic propped him up on wobbly legs.

  Coen managed a slobbery protest but was too drunk to put up much of a fight.

  Outside the air was cool and the smell of blood was finally fading; the bodies had been cleared from the docks and wheeled away in carts. A few tired workers were still scrubbing at the bloodstains.

  “Let me go! I can walk.”

  “Not in the cards. You can barely speak, let alone walk. Where do you live?”