Blood & Stone: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 3

by J. V. Roberts

  “We were ambushed. Every man there was as good as dead. Me remaining would have solved nothing, it’d have simply added to the body count. As for Hawthorne, that useless boy…well, he stood in my way. He should have never been there.” His words were bait, meant to infuriate Dominic and get him to act recklessly.

  Wait for the opening. Surprise him if you can. He’s watching the door, expecting you to kick it down, so go in through the goddamn window.

  “You will die today,” Dominic said.

  “I’m not so sure about that. You don’t look well.”

  “Commander Eirik,” Osiris was beginning to draw his sword, “I need you to relinquish your weapon. These men will be taking you into custody.” Osiris motioned the six soldiers forward; they shoved their way through and lined up in front of the throne, ready to do their duty.

  Eirik shook his head. “And here I thought you were the man to lead Anthena into the future.”

  Osiris didn’t see it coming. He hadn’t even finished drawing his sword when Eirik drove his blade backward through his gut. He fell back on the throne and stared down at the hole in his stomach with disbelief. The soldiers watched Eirik wiping the blade clean on Osiris’ robe, their body language said they were ready to avenge their fallen King, but their feet remained still.

  “What are you waiting for?” Roserine shoved one of the soldiers in the back. “Do your duty and take him!”

  “Hold where you are, men.” Eirik closed one eye and scanned his blade for blemishes. “What I just did was for the good of Anthena; I severed the last branch on the Shalewind tree.” He put his hand on Osiris’ head; Osiris looked up at him, the shock of betrayal echoing in his eyes as blood bubbled up and over his fingers. “Osiris was going to lead us and this land down the same dead-end path that his niece and brother did. What Anthena needs is new blood, someone that isn’t afraid to make the hard decisions in order to lead her into the future. That someone is me. Kill the four individuals standing behind you and you will rule this land at my side. You will want for nothing. Your families will want for nothing. We will crush the Eval, expand our walls, and strengthen our trade ties. Anthena will be a monument of wealth and power. Something others will aspire to. Or you can follow Roserine’s short-sighted command and slay me. You will have done your duty and you can happily return to the same downward spiral. The decision you make right now will impact the rest of your lives and the lives of the ones you claim to love.”

  It was a good speech; the bullshit was expertly masked. Dominic could see it happening: their muscles were tightening, their hands were wringing sweat across the handles of their swords, they were looking at each other from the corners of their eyes, trying to sync up their attack.

  “Don’t you do it,” Dominic spoke to the back of the soldier standing in front of him, “don’t you fucking do it.”

  ***

  Outside of castle Volkheeri, a different kind of storm was brewing. Eval had come up from the mine. They broke off into two groups. One group ran east across the open field toward the gates, killing everyone in their path; soldier and civilian, it didn’t matter. They had one job: open the gates.

  The other group scaled and ran east along the wall. They were met with more resistance than the men on the ground. More casualties. The wall was a narrow battlefield and clogged with trained soldiers. Arrows flew and spears poked and prodded. Men on both sides fell and other men moved forward to take their place. But the Eval were making progress, getting closer to the gates; they needed to kill off the archers and clear the way for the approach of Draxus and the rest of the Eval army. Then the gates would open and Anthena would fall.

  ***

  The soldier tried to turn and strike. Dominic caught him by the elbow, kept him from maneuvering, and drove his sword through his back and out the middle of his chest, skewering him. He kept the sword buried in his body and used it to maneuver the dying soldier, tossing him into the man standing to his right. The soldier stumbled under the weight. He tried to shove the carcass away, tried to regain his composure and square up, but Dominic was on top of him, burying a blade in his ribs before he could recover.

  The other four soldiers made similar attempts.

  Lerah ducked under a vertical slice and used the dagger in her left hand to cut chunks out of the inside of her attacker’s thighs. He screamed and lost control of his blade, dropping it to the floor; she silenced him by driving a dagger through the roof of his mouth.

  Roserine was handling two of them without breaking a sweat. Her blade flashed through the air, blocking and parrying blows from the left and right. There was an unmistakable look of satisfaction on her face and the twitch of a smile on her lips. The battlefield was where she blossomed. Where she belonged. Not some throne. Not watching from the ramparts. She belonged at the bloody table, casting her lot, rolling against life and death. She bent at the waist and sucked her stomach in as steel skipped against her armor. She jumped aside and slapped away the other blade as it attempted to plunge into her chest. It was a ceaseless barrage of cold death. One misstep, a zig that should have been a zag, and she’d die messy. One of the soldiers overextended his swing and stumbled forward, blocking his comrade from making the follow-up attack that would have kept Roserine on the defensive. She swung up at the soldier that had stumbled and chopped into his stomach as if she were cutting a steak. The remaining soldier looked at his comrade and then at Roserine, trying to decide whether to continue. Roserine didn’t give him a choice. It only took four moves to knock the sword from his hands and bury hers in his heart.

  Coen was having the most trouble. It was apparent from the beginning that he was outmatched; he almost fell after blocking an incoming blow from his opponent, a soldier he only knew as Tritt; he’d gained some notoriety for himself after accompanying Eirik on the expedition that captured Byron and the Eval he’d been courting. Coen kept defending heavy blows and losing ground. His face was a tangled mess of anxiety.

  “Should have stuck to loading ships. You were never cut out to be a soldier.” He smacked Coen’s sword left and then right, toying with him, before hitting him in the face with an elbow.

  Coen fell back, squinting as blood began to flow from the wound on his cheek. Tritt raised his sword, looking like a man about to plant a flag for his nation.

  “At least you’ll see that bitch of yours again.”

  Lerah appeared behind him. She wrapped a hand across his mouth, pulled his head back, and kicked one of his knees out, dropping him down and giving her the height advantage, before plunging her dagger into his neck. His carotid artery exploded like a kinked hose, spraying her face with a scarlet geyser.

  Osiris had finished dying and sat on the throne with his head slumped forward on his chest, his bloody palms sitting upright in his lap. Eirik stood calmly, watching as his men were slaughtered.

  “You’re good.” Eirik admired the mangled bodies in Dominic’s wake. “But to fight off the entire Eval army, well, no man is that good. Did Draxus just let you go?”

  “You can ask him when he gets here.” Dominic held his sword with both hands; it was starting to feel heavy.

  “The Eval intend to attack Anthena?” Eirik seemed more curious than concerned.

  Dominic tried to blink the sweat out of his eyes.

  “Well then, I guess we better get to business before we’re interrupted.”

  “Make your move, motherfucker.”

  Right on queue, the main doors to the castle burst open and everything paused. Two Anthenian soldiers stood in the opening; they were breathing heavy and their swords were dripping blood. For a moment they just stared, confused by the carnage in front of them, trying to make sense of who was on what side.

  Roserine stepped forward, shoulders back, the lioness leading her pack. “Osiris is dead and I am your Queen. Speak!”

  The two soldiers looked at each other and shrugged, deciding that one lighthouse was as good as another. “The Eval have breached the walls and the mine
. Our people are fighting them. But they’re pushing toward the stairs and I’m not sure if we can hold them.”

  “How many?” she asked.

  “All of them…I think, my Queen.”

  “Is Draxus among them?”

  The two men nodded.

  Roserine turned her eyes to Lerah. “We cannot let them break through to the market.”

  “Dominic?” Lerah’s voice was torn.

  “Go on,” Dominic said, returning his full attention to Eirik. “I’ve got business to finish here.”

  “Yes, go on,” Eirik echoed. “I’ll be out to assist once I’ve finished killing Dominic.”

  “Why don’t we just kill Eirik and go together?” Coen asked.

  “Nah,” Dominic shook his head, “this is between me and him. Can’t be anyone else. Go with them, Coen.”

  “Dominic, I’ll be back.” Lerah kissed him on the cheek as she looked up at Eirik. “I expect this bastard to be dead and you to be waiting for me.”

  Dominic didn’t say anything as Lerah departed with Roserine and Coen. He stepped back from the foot of the throne, careful not to trip over the bodies. He was bent slightly at the waist, holding the sword in one hand.

  “Your form is abysmal.”

  “Byron told me the same thing before I put him on his ass.”

  “Yes, well, he’s not much with a blade, either.” Eirik’s boot splashed down in a pool of blood formed by three different corpses. He stopped advancing. He lifted his sword and slapped it against Dominic’s, forming a metal X between them. “Have you made peace with your gods?”

  “We stopped talking a long time ago.”

  “Then I guess it’s time for you to die.”

  “Don’t talk about it. Be about it.”

  46

  Lerah, Roserine, and Coen stood atop the outer bailey. They were looking out at the grassland west of the castle. What usually served as a grazing station for cattle was now the site of a battle unlike anything Anthena had ever seen. From the north wall to the central staircase, Anthenian and Eval crossed sword, ax, and club. Arrows from both sides soared over the heads of the crowd and plunged into flesh and armor. The cries of adrenaline and death rose into the air, a rolling wave that refused to crash. In the middle of the chaos was Draxus. He wore black, patched leather pants and a flowing white shirt that ended around the middle of his thighs. He swung a two-handed maul with bone-crunching force, creating a growing circle of empty space and battered bodies with each rotation as his dreadlocks flapped wildly about his face.

  “Are you seeing that?” Roserine pointed.

  In close proximity to Draxus were two Eval women without a stitch of clothing. They moved like cats, slinking across the battle field and pouncing on their prey.

  “I don’t even want to try to guess why they’re naked,” Coen said.

  Lerah shook her head. “Suppose it doesn’t matter. No armor in the way just makes them easier to kill.”

  “How should we do this?” Roserine looked like a fresh recruit, ready to jump at Lerah’s command.

  “You’re the Queen. Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

  “You’ve seen far more combat than I ever hope to. I yield to your expertise.”

  “Me too,” Coen added.

  She gave the battlefield a quick scan. The goal would be to cut off the head of the snake: Draxus. The battlefield was congested with frenzied fighting. To get to Draxus would mean ducking and dodging a lot of hostiles. Too time-consuming. Too risky. The wall was the best option. There were Eval archers, but they were spaced out. Easier to cut through. The fighting near the gate wasn’t as thick; that was where they would get through to Draxus.

  “Me and Roserine will take the wall and try to get around to Draxus. Coen, it looks like we’re losing ground near the stairs. See if you can gather some men and reinforce it.”

  “On it.” Coen didn’t waste time; he slid down the ladder at his back and was off.

  “You sure we shouldn’t split up and try to press in from different angles?”

  “Yes! I’m sure!” Lerah sounded harsher than she’d intended to be. “I’m not going to lose you…”

  Too.

  She’d caught it at the last moment, but it was already out there, hanging in the air. It was the first time she’d given life to the notion that she might lose Dominic.

  “I’m not going to risk losing you…okay?”

  “Okay.” Roserine smiled and mercifully let the issue die. “Lead the way.”

  ***

  Eirik was quicker than he’d been before, or perhaps Dominic was just slower. Dominic swung twice—right to left and left to right—and both times Eirik was not at the other end of the swing.

  Eirik’s slash was snakebite fast. Dominic jumped back as the cold breeze snapped against his stomach. Eirik chuckled and circled him like a vulture. “I’m the one with the armor on and you’re already breaking a sweat.”

  Dominic didn’t retort. He was conserving his energy. The bandage on his chest was already soaked through with blood and he was blinking fast to keep Eirik’s form from warping in his vision.

  Eirik swung high from over his right shoulder. He wasn’t fucking around. He wasn’t trying to make a mockery of Dominic this time. It was a blow delivered with force. A blow meant to kill, complete with bulged eyes and clenched teeth. Dominic’s block was weak, limp-wristed, and yet it still got the job done. But Eirik wasn’t deterred. He slid off the block and came in high from the other shoulder. Their blades clashed and sparks flew. This time Eirik didn’t break off, he stayed there, pressing down, pushing Dominic’s blade further and further toward his face. His knees began to buckle as he struggled to stay upright. His arms were shaking as he tried to get things moving the other way, but each attempt only produced more lost ground and brought him another step closer to the grave. As the steel began to dig into Dominic’s nose Eirik’s left leg shot out and swept him at the ankles. He landed with a grunt, trying to suck air into deflated lungs. Eirik’s sword appeared in his blurred vision, rocketing toward his neck. He rolled left and came up on one knee as the blade dug into the cement where his head had been.

  “You still got some fight left in you after all. Good. I want to savor this.”

  Dominic took two deep breaths and pushed up to his feet. Doubt had begun creeping in. Would he be able to finish this before the sword became too heavy to wield? Before his vision failed and his legs gave out? Would Eirik’s hideous, salt-pitted face be the last thing he saw?

  ***

  Lerah was out front, leading the way along the wall. She cut down the first few Eval without breaking speed: she stabbed the first in the base of the skull and cut the second one’s throat. The third one tried to turn his bow on her; she fell to her knees and slid beneath his arms and came back up face-to-face with him before burying her daggers in his chest three times and shoving him off the wall. After that, her cover was blown. There were two Eval fifty feet ahead of her with their arrows cocked and pointed in her direction. Lerah threw one of her daggers and it landed in the throat of the one on the right just as his fingers left the bowstring, sending the arrow careening above their heads. The other Eval got his shot off, undistracted by his dying battle-buddy. Lerah rolled under the arrow. When she was back on her feet she turned and saw Roserine had avoided the projectile as well.

  The Eval threw down his bow and removed a small, stone hatchet from his hip.

  “Die, bitch!”

  She wasn’t going to play defense. She closed the distance with one dagger and a blood-drenched fist. The Eval tried to split her forehead. She turned sideways and made herself small, giving him nothing but air to swing at. He tried for her neck next, but she blocked the shot with the back of her forearm and kneed him in the crotch. He groaned and hunched forward, exposing his back. She stabbed him twice, just below his left shoulder, grabbed the back of his armor and tossed him toward Roserine. He sprawled on his face at Roserine’s feet. She drove her sword through hi
s spine and he stopped moving. Lerah removed her dagger from the other Eval’s neck and wiped it clean on her pants.

  “We should jump down.” They were standing directly above the gate. The fighting that separated them from Draxus and his naked bodyguards was now two men deep.

  “One thing, Lerah.”

  “Yeah?” She was crouched, trying to decide if she could jump far enough to land on top of one of the Eval.

  “Draxus is mine.”

  She stood and nodded. “You’re the Queen. Now tell me, how far can you jump?”

  ***

  There was a moment where it appeared as if Dominic was gaining the upper-hand. Eirik got overzealous. Overconfident. He was riding on the fumes of his initial dominance. His attacks and his footwork got sloppy. Dominic managed to parry a blow and opened up enough space to hit Eirik in the chest with his shoulder. It was almost enough to put Eirik on his ass. Dominic seized the moment and came at him with a flurry of blows. The goal was to keep him scrambling. He’d fuck up and one of the shots would land true.

  But that didn’t happen.

  Eirik had been raised with a sword in his hand. He locked up with Dominic and slid his blade all the way to the guard of Dominic’s sword. He grabbed Dominic’s wrist with his free hand and smacked the sword away; it sailed across the room and came to rest against a pillar, far beyond his reach. Dominic tried to fight back: he tried to twist out of Eirik’s clutches, smashing his fist and knees against the plate armor, but there was no force behind the blows. He was a leaf twisting on the breeze.

  “Are you done?” Eirik spoke as if he were talking to a child.

  Dominic nodded, bringing his bloody knuckles down to his side. “Yeah, I think I’m done.”

  Eirik plunged his sword through Dominic’s stomach all the way to the hilt. He fell against Eirik, his face resting against the cool plate metal; it felt good, like a breeze on a hot day.