Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

  He thought about grabbing his sword and rushing them. Thought about just getting it done and over with. Skip the speeches. The gloating. The fucking bullshit. Just cut the mortal coil and soar off into whatever hellscape was awaiting him beyond this one. But he was tired. So he stayed there on his knees, his hands on his thighs.

  “You fucking, unworthy fuck!” Draxus stopped at the bottom of the hill. He gave Emily’s hair a jerk, pulling her face first into the grass.

  The two naked women ran past him and fell beside their dead doppelganger, sobbing.

  “Unworthy?” Dominic didn’t raise his head, just his eyes.

  “To kill one of my Vipers! You’re no Anthenian! If you were an Anthenian at least I’d understand why your miserable ass is here! But you’re not! You’re a fucking foreigner sticking your nose in a conflict that long outdates you!” He closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and took a deep breath.

  “What can I say; I’m a sucker for a good adventure.”

  “You think this is funny?” Draxus flexed his wide jaw.

  “I think that I’m about to die and I’m not going to do it groveling at your feet. Do what you need to do, chief.”

  “I really liked Mirela.” His head twitched a little as he continued his deep breathing. “You took her from me for no good reason. Who the fuck are you? Do you even know what you’re fighting for?”

  The rest of the Eval had formed a circle and were doing their best to look menacing; tightening their muscles and bouncing their bludgeoning weapons up and down inside open palms.

  “I’m just a guy that happens to be good at killing and getting people killed.” His eyes drifted toward Hawthorne’s body. “I’ve never cared as much about the cause as I have the folks involved. I reckon if you hadn’t taken that girl right there, me and you wouldn’t be having this conversation and that naked bitch behind me would still have a face.”

  A sharp blow connected with Dominic’s skull; the hilt of one of the viper’s sabers.

  “Let me bleed him! He killed my sister!”

  “No,” Byron came to his feet, “I’ll do it. It’s my duty to—”

  “Byron, you have fucked up in every possible way a man can. If your sister had any decency, any concern for the legacy of your bloodline, she’d have cut your throat like the useless cattle you are. Leave my sight before I have you maimed and violated.”

  Byron shrank back and departed through the multi-layered circle of Eval warriors.

  “Seems like a useless sonofabitch. Bet you regret taking him on.”

  Draxus slapped Emily in the back of the head. “He got me this bitch, at least.”

  Emily was catatonic. She was looking at Dominic with glassy eyes, but she wasn’t seeing him.

  “You think hurting her is going to get you what you want?”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” Draxus purred. “I did not hurt her. The Anthenians did when they sent you here. You did when you decided to kill my Mirela.”

  “They won’t stop. Whatever you’re thinking of doing to her won’t stop them. They’ll send even more against you. They’ll fight to the last woman and child.”

  “Oh stop, you’re giving me a hard on.”

  Eval women and children had started gathering atop the hills, looking just as primitive as their warrior counterparts.

  “Have you thought about how this plays out? What’s your endgame? You just kill everyone and move back in, la-di-da, fucking rainbows and wine?” He could feel the blood trickling down his chest and torso and soaking into his waistband.

  “We’ll return everything to its natural order. You should have seen this land before the Anthenians moved in with their walls and their obnoxious castles.”

  “You talk like you were around, asshole. This was your father’s war. Or maybe it was his father’s. But this shit only ends when there’s no one left to fight; if it ain’t the Anthenians, it’ll be someone else.”

  “They’ll have to bury me before I give up on my land or my people. But before I get to killing more Anthenians, there’s some business here that we need to finish.” He was pulling Emily’s hair and stretching her neck. Tears were streaming from her eyes, but she wasn’t protesting.

  “Whatever you’re thinking of doing to her, do it to me. Let her go. She means nothing to you.”

  “That’s right, she means nothing to me. But she means something to you, obviously. And more than that, she means something to that bitch, Queen Roserine.”

  “No, listen to me. Roserine is not in charge anymore. None of this was her doing. Her uncle came in and took over. All of this was him.”

  “Was it?”

  “Yes. Emily means nothing to him; she’s not a bargaining chip. Just let her go? You have me. Let her go home.” He’d given Roserine his word. Told her that he’d bring Emily back. He couldn’t do that for Hawthorne or himself. But there was still one promise he could keep. “Come on, do the right thing.”

  Draxus smiled his thorn-toothed smile and released Emily’s hair. “You know, I’m a nice guy.”

  Now was the time for Emily to stand and start running in the other direction.

  Draxus swung the machete and buried it in her neck. Her eyes widened a little and she started to cough as if something had become lodged in her throat. Draxus plucked the blade free and hacked again, severing her head from her shoulders. It rolled to the ground and rested on one ear. Her eyes stared out at Dominic, half closed; her expression one of ghastly surprise.

  Dominic pounded the ground with his fists, dropped his forehead against the tops of his hands, and screamed into the earth.

  “Go back to Anthena, Dominic. Tell them what you saw here. Tell them what’s coming for them.” Draxus knelt and lifted Dominic by the chin. “You get to live. Like I said, I’m a nice guy.”

  42

  It’d been five days since Osiris had dispatched the army to hunt down the Eval and rescue Emily. Lerah was walking through the field near the north wall with Roserine when Eirik returned. Walking and talking was how they’d been keeping their mind off things; when night fell and things got quiet they’d add a few sips of wine to the conversation. Coen would often join them, sullen and puffy-eyed. When Eirik rode through the gates alone, the fears they’d kept at bay through idle conversation and liberal amounts of alcohol overran their defenses and buckled their knees. They reached Eirik at the same time Osiris did—he’d been notified of the arrival by lookouts on the wall. Eirik descended from his horse. He was breathing a little heavy, he had blood on his armor, and his lips were chapped from dehydration.

  “Where are Dominic and Hawthorne?” Lerah’s hand went to her chest, trying to keep her heart from breaking out and running away.

  “Where’s Emily?”

  Osiris waved his hands. “Be quiet and let me speak. I’m sure we’re all eager for a report. Commander Eirik, where is everyone?”

  “We were ambushed. They came from all sides. Arrows blotted out the sun and they overran us. Everyone is gone.” Eirik shook his head and appeared ashamed.

  “Gone?” Osiris leaned in for clarification.

  “They’re all dead.”

  “You saw them die?” Lerah needed him to confirm that he’d actually witnessed it with his own eyes. “You saw them breathe their last breaths?”

  “I said they’re all dead,” he grumbled.

  “But you fled. If you’d been the last man standing, all eyes, all weapons, would have been pointed at you. All I’m saying is that there’s a possibility someone else got out, right?” It wasn’t denial on Lerah’s part; Eirik’s story had more leaking holes than an Outland whorehouse.

  “The Commander saw what he saw and I’ve got no reason to question his integrity.” Osiris stood beside Eirik and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “This is tough news for all of us.”

  “Is it?” Lerah’s words snapped like a whip.

  A dark cloud passed over Osiris’ face. “What are you saying, girl?”

  “Dominic and Roserine
warned you that this was a bad idea, but you did it anyway; you barged on ahead. I don’t know if it was your fucking ego, I don’t know if you did it because you felt you had to prove to your people that the new boss isn’t the same as the old boss, or maybe you just plain old fucked up. But I do know that the man I love isn’t standing here and this asshole is telling me he’s dead. So don’t tell me it’s tough for all of us.”

  “I lost fifty men!” Eirik took a step toward her, but he was cut off by Roserine.

  “And yet here you are, not a scratch on you.” Roserine looked him up and down with disgust.

  “Are you implying something?” He tilted his head.

  “You mean do I think you’re the sort of man that would sacrifice everyone around him if it meant preserving his own skin? Do I think you’re a coward?” She nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “You…” Eirik reared back as if he intended to hit her, but didn’t follow through.

  Lerah took one of Roserine’s arms. “Come on, this isn’t the time.”

  “It’s going to be okay, Lerah. We can’t despair.” Roserine was rubbing her back, trying to comfort her as they moved toward the stairs; but she didn’t need comfort.

  “There’s no despair. He’s lying. I could see it in his eyes when you called him a coward. He doesn’t know who is alive or dead. But I know one thing.”

  “What’s that?” Roserine was holding her close.

  “Dominic doesn’t die that easy.”

  43

  At least Draxus had allowed him to leave on a horse.

  But he hadn’t allowed him his weapons.

  Hadn’t allowed him Hawthorne’s body.

  Dominic rode; sometimes fast, sometimes slow. There were moments when the pain wrought by the arrow in his chest spiked down his arm and made it difficult to hold the reins with both hands. In those moments he had to pull back for fear of falling and losing the horse and any chance of reaching Anthena alive along with it.

  The only thing burning hotter than the arrow protruding from the right side of his chest was his anger. His thirst for revenge. Eirik would pay. Before the blood loss got him, before infection took him, if it was the last thing he did on this miserable fucking planet, he would slice open Eirik’s throat, he would feel the warmth of his blood, he would watch him die. He wanted that more than anything. More than water. More than he wanted the arrow out of his chest. More than he wanted to hold Lerah in his arms. The demons inside him had unfurled their wings. All at once he’d reverted into the loner. The mercenary. The man he was in the bad-old-days.

  So be it.

  He still saw images of Hawthorne with his throat cut, eyes wide, struggling to stop the life from leaking out of him. The Kid: he died alone in the grass beneath a sky that was not his own. The Kid: he died without tasting the love of a woman. The Kid: he’d helped save Lerah, he’d kept her sane, but no one had been there to save him. The Kid: Dominic owed him a debt that he intended on paying.

  ***

  Byron was sitting on Mirela’s bed when the door to her cramped, damp room creaked open. Darkening the crooked frame was Draxus, Jehona, and Besilina. Byron folded his hands in his lap, and bowed his head. He knew what was coming. It’d been nipping at his heels and haunting his nightmares since he’d been exiled from Anthena. He’d welcomed it and resisted it, sometimes simultaneously. And now, it’d cornered him and he didn’t know whether to cry or rejoice.

  “You look like a motherfucker resigned to his fate.” Draxus strode into the room, dragging the same large maul that Byron had used to smash Sullivan’s head in. Was the irony intentional?

  “What’s the point in fighting?” He opened his hands and looked at his palms, hoping to find better words written there, perhaps even a reason to live, but there was nothing, just scratched and calloused flesh.

  “There is no point. No, sir.” Draxus stood in front of him and dropped the head of the maul against the stone floor; it teetered back and forth before settling still and upright. “The fighting should have happened when you were out there, battling that sonofabitch that killed Mirela.”

  Besilina and Jehona stood at the back of the room. They looked frustrated by the preamble and eager to get to the bloodshed.

  “I fought the best I could.”

  “From where I was standing, it looked like Mirela was doing all the heavy lifting while you were rolling around on your back with your face all scrunched up like a bitch giving birth.”

  Byron brought his hands to his mouth and shook his head; there was nothing he could say that was going to satiate. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have done more.”

  “Yeah, so do I. I had high hopes for you. You came to me, on your knees, and I brought you to your feet. I offered you a paved road leading you to the vengeance you claimed to desire. But you’ve done everything in your power to deviate from that path.”

  If he’d deviated, it hadn’t been intentional. A path implied order. The truth was that everything had been chaos since the day Eirik had appeared in the meadow and torn Aurora from his arms.

  I wanted to avenge you. I hope you know that I tried my best. I will see you soon, my love.

  “Nothing to say? Not gonna try to defend yourself? Beg for your life? Tell me how thankful you are for all I’ve done for you?”

  He was rotating his thumbs, one over the other, making tiny circles, staring at his feet, knowing his next words would most likely seal his fate. “I’m tired, Draxus. Tired of being scared. Tired of begging. Tired of you and the crazy whores standing behind you. Let’s get it done and over with.”

  “You want to stand or kneel?”

  “I’ll sit right here if that’s alright by you.”

  “Far be it from me to deny a man his final wish.”

  The maul drug the floor before Draxus hefted it onto his shoulder. For a moment a thick silence filled the space between them.

  There was a jolt of pain.

  And then nothing.

  ***

  Dominic rode into the night, long after the moon had taken its throne. Thirst and exhaustion convinced him to rest by a small stream. He tied the horse off to a nearby tree, where it drank its fill. Dominic did the same, scooping handfuls of water into his mouth and across the top of his head.

  He sat back against the tree. The horse stood over him, snorting and bobbing its head. He was hot; much hotter than he should have been given the relatively cool temperature. The pain that came from touching the site around the arrow caused him to go dizzy and nearly pass out; the infection had set in, his blood had been poisoned.

  Just one more thing to wrap up, Mister Reaper. Just one more piece of killin’ that needs to get done, then I’m all yours.

  Some men said death couldn’t be negotiated with. But he’d committed his fair share of souls to the harvest; he figured death owed him one.

  Looking north, back across the land from whence he came, he saw an orange glow lighting the horizon. The sun didn’t rise there and it was too damned early, anyhow. The way the light rippled and rolled, grabbing shadows around the neck and shaking them…torchlight. The Eval were moving and they were moving quick. They’d be on him in a matter of hours.

  “Sorry to do this to you, boy, but we gotta get going; places to be and assholes to kill.” He winced as he climbed atop the horse, turning it south and resuming his race toward Anthena.

  44

  Coen was standing watch on the north wall alongside Lerah. The sun was up. The birds were chirping. The whole of Anthena seemed to be moving on about its day. But for Lerah, time had frozen. It’d been almost a full day since Eirik’s return. If Roserine’s intuition was correct, he’d fled and deserted his men. Lerah trusted Roserine’s intuition. She’d known Eirik much longer and knew what he was and wasn’t capable of.

  “You think Emily is still alive?” There was a resignation in Coen’s voice that said he’d opened himself up to all of the terrible, ugly possibilities surrounding that question.

  “I don’t kno
w. That’s not me blowing smoke up your ass. Just like I don’t know if I’m going to see Dominic or Hawthorne come riding across that horizon. I’m hoping against hope and I guess that’s all you can really do.”

  “I guess so. All I can do is stand here and…hope.”

  “Yep. That’s pretty much the way of it.”

  Lerah’s hair was pulled back. She was suited up in padded leather and armed for battle.

  “Let me ask you something.” She turned her back to the horizon and leaned her butt on the edge of the wall.

  “What is it?”

  “Does Eirik strike you as the type to tuck tail and run? I’m not fond of the prick, but I don’t want to paint the wrong picture of him either.”

  “Hard for me to say. I haven’t been wearing this sword long. He’s not the nicest man in Anthena, but in terms of his courage and dedication to the Tenets…I can’t really say with any certainty.”

  “Fair enough.”

  She closed her eyes and let the breeze wash across her face. She was starting to drift when Coen’s shouting startled her back to life.

  “Look! Look! Lerah!”

  She turned and saw the rider. He lacked form at first; just a black blob bouncing up and down on horseback. But as he got closer, it became clear that it was Dominic. It also became clear that he was wounded.

  “I’ll have them send word to the castle and—”

  She grabbed his arm. “Hold that order, please?” She wanted to speak to Dominic without Eirik present.

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  They descended the wall and ran to the gate.

  “Open it up,” Coen said.

  “What about the King?” One of the men looked around for Osiris’ approach.

  “Open the goddamn gate!” Lerah shouted, stepping forward as if she intended to do it herself.