Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series

by Lindsay Buroker

  Jev charged past closed doors on the fifth and sixth landings without pausing to see what lay behind them. He envisioned springing into Yilnesh’s room and taking him by surprise, cracking his pistol against the back of his head, knocking him out, and dragging him back to the castle by his ankles.

  A click came from the landing above him followed by the shattering of glass.

  “What was that?” Tames whispered.

  “Nothing good, I’m sure,” Jev muttered.

  He kept going, but he sniffed the air gingerly, imagining some virus or infection having been unleashed.

  A faint greenish smoke drifted down from above as a pungent odor assaulted Jev’s nose.

  “Cover your mouth,” he ordered over his shoulder and yanked his shirt up over his own mouth.

  Fearing that wouldn’t be enough protection, Jev held his breath as he charged up the last of the stairs. The air grew thicker with green smoke. His skin itched, his eyes burned, and his nose ran.

  Jev envisioned the stuff flaying his flesh right off his body, but he refused to turn back. He reached the seventh-floor landing, and his boot crunched on something. The glass of the broken vial. He waved at the smoky air, squinting though his tears to see that one door was closed and the other open. He raced to the open one, leading the way with his pistol.

  But the room, a library with laboratory equipment set up on tables, was empty, the window closed and shuttered. Tames reached the other door first but found it locked.

  He turned teared, bloodshot eyes toward Jev. “Key?”

  Jev, his skin shifting from itching to burning as if he were smothered in acid, shook his head. He had no intention of running back down to ask the ambassador for a key.

  “Move,” he rasped, waving Tames back.

  He channeled his pain and frustration about how the day had gone into a single powerful kick. His heel slammed into the door, and something snapped. With another kick, he knocked it open.

  Jev ran inside, pointing his pistol with one hand and keeping his shirt over his mouth and nose with the other hand. For all the good it was doing. His nostrils burned as if a volcano were spewing lava into them.

  He looked around, expecting to find his foe crouching behind the bed and ready to shoot at him. But the room was empty of everything except furnishings. Yilnesh was gone.

  20

  Zenia didn’t have the patience to wait for a guard to bring her a horse. She raced around the castle to the stable in the back. Horse whickers and arguing voices escaped through its open door.

  She ran inside, intending to grab the first saddled horse she saw, and she almost crashed into a big man’s back. She lurched to a stop, and he turned, frowning at her. Zyndar Garlok.

  A stable boy hurried toward him with a horse in tow.

  “That’s for Captain Cham,” the guard she’d sent on this errand said, pointing at the animal.

  The stable boy, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen, shook his head and led the horse around the guard. “Zyndar get priority over captains and anyone else except the royal family. That’s the rules.”

  Garlok, who was looking at Zenia in narrow-eyed contemplation—or was that simply distaste?—smirked slightly at the boy’s words.

  “I have to catch up to Jev—Zyndar Dharrow,” Zenia said, running toward a second stable boy who was preparing another horse. “He went after the elf that may have infected the king with deadly bacteria. I need to get to him before he’s killed. Nobody else will know how to cure the king.” She was tempted to grab the horse Garlok had claimed but feared he would make a tug-of-war match out of it, and she didn’t have time for that. The second horse was almost ready.

  “You know where they went?” Garlok asked.

  She hesitated. Of all the people whose help she would have liked, he wasn’t anywhere on the list. Worse, she remembered his comment about her and Jev quitting or disappearing. She wouldn’t trust him behind her in a fight. Or at all.

  “Tell me,” Garlok growled.

  “I am your employer, not the other way around.” Zenia accepted the reins for the second horse and hurried for the exit, hoping Garlok wouldn’t impede her.

  “I am zyndar, and you are a commoner.”

  “I am a commoner, but what you are is an ass.” She glared. The bastard was deliberately blocking the exit.

  One of the stable boys let out a short laugh before catching himself and clapping a hand over his mouth.

  “Get out of my way.” Aware that there could be ramifications for insulting a zyndar, Zenia forced herself to add, “Please.”

  “Where did Dharrow and that elf go? I know you know.”

  “Then follow me if you want to find out, but don’t delay me. The king’s life is at stake.”

  His eyes narrowed further, as if he suspected her of lying. Why, by all four founders, would she lie about that?

  She was debating kicking him in his big, hairy shin when he stepped to the side.

  “I will follow you.”

  “Wonderful.” Zenia hiked up the hem of her dress to her waist, not caring that she gave everyone a view of her legs, and swung up on her horse.

  “Do you need more men, ma’am?” the guard called, hustling to ready a horse for himself. The second one likely had been for him.

  “Grab anyone you can find and meet us at the elven embassy,” she called as she rode away.

  “You tell him and not me?” Garlok growled, matching her pace.

  “I trust he wants to help the king.” And to help me, she added silently.

  “What in the hells does that mean? I am loyal to the king, no matter who he is and how young he is. That’s the oath I swore long ago.” Garlok curled his lip at her, reminding her of how affronted Jev got when his honor was questioned, until he added, “Common filth.”

  She urged her horse to greater speed, hoping it might outdistance his since she weighed much less than he did. But as she charged through the open gate—new guards were posted there now, and she didn’t see Lunis or the doctor in the courtyard—she spotted someone jogging up the road on foot. Zenia glimpsed blue monk’s robes as the runner passed under one of the street lamps.

  “Rhi?” she wondered, not sure who else from the temple would be running up here on foot.

  “Zenia!” Rhi yelled, waving a hand as they drew close enough for communication.

  Zenia slowed her mount, though she winced when Garlok took advantage and rode past her without waiting. Now, she wished she hadn’t revealed the elf’s destination. What if Garlok arrived first and hindered Jev instead of helping him? Did he resent them enough that he would risk the king’s life?

  “What is it?” Zenia asked.

  “Here.” Rhi pulled an envelope from inside her gi. “Someone sent you mail at the temple, and Mage Darishia told me to bring it to you. I don’t think she knows the archmage forbade me from talking to you.”

  Zenia, aware of Garlok speeding down the road and into the city, accepted the envelope but merely stuffed it into the top of her boot—the stupid dress didn’t have pockets or any extra room to hold anything. There wasn’t enough light to read it, nor did she have time.

  “Jev needs help.” Zenia offered her hand. “Do you want to come?”

  “Of course.”

  Rhi swung up behind her, and Zenia rode after Garlok at top speed. Unfortunately, she no longer could claim less weight for her horse, and they weren’t able to gain ground.

  “Do we get to heroically save his life?” Rhi yelled to be heard over the thundering hooves.

  “Let’s hope he’s not in that much trouble.”

  “Too bad. I think the journalists would write me up in the newspaper if I carried him out of a burning building over my shoulder.”

  “He’s a bit heavy for that.”

  “You don’t think I can manage it? I’ll bet you twenty krons, I can heft him over my shoulder.”

  Zenia shook her head, not wanting to banter now. She wanted to catch up with Garlok and ge
t that elf.

  They tore through the streets, people scattering as first Garlok and then Zenia raced through. A woman yelled curses at Garlok for almost running her over. He yelled back that he was zyndar, presumably implying it was inappropriate for her to curse him. She waved her fist and called him a donkey’s teat.

  Being zyndar didn’t mean quite what it had in earlier generations.

  The smell of smoke reached Zenia’s nose before the elven tower came into sight. She told herself it was woodsmoke from people’s cookstoves, nothing more, but the memory of the burning farmhouse flashed into her mind.

  “Uh oh.” Rhi pointed over Zenia’s shoulder.

  They turned onto a street a couple of blocks down from the tower, but they could already see flickering orange light within the garden walls.

  Zenia urged her horse onward, dread filling her gut.

  Multiple fires burned in the elven courtyard, flames leaping from the branches of trees and threatening to spread over the walls and into the city.

  The bedroom window was open, a faint breeze stirring the hazy green air.

  “That fool jump from the seventh floor?” Jev muttered, his throat raw. He ran for the window, wanting fresh air as much as to see where Yilnesh had gone.

  He stuck his head out, inhaling deeply and looking down. The smoky air outside wasn’t much fresher than the green miasma in the room, and he winced, spotting multiple fires burning in the garden. But he also spotted a spiky-haired elven face peering up at him from the side of the tower below.

  Yilnesh was climbing down without a rope, a pack and weapons strapped to his back. Unfortunately, he was efficient at it, and after that quick glance at Jev, he kept descending.

  Jev pointed his pistol at the top of the elf’s head but growled in frustration. He couldn’t shoot to kill, not when Yilnesh was the only one who knew how to cure Targyon. He shifted his aim toward the elf’s shoulder, though even then he hesitated, envisioning his foe falling four stories and breaking his neck when he landed.

  No, Jev decided. He was an elf. He was agile. He would land on his feet.

  As he squeezed the trigger, a wave of power slammed into him, knocking his arm against the window frame and almost hurling him to the floor. The firearm went off, but the bullet flew wild.

  “Zyndar?” Tames gripped him, offering support. “What happened?”

  “Magic happened.” Jev growled and peered out the window again.

  Yilnesh was gone.

  He must have jumped and disappeared into foliage. Damn it.

  “From the elf we’re chasing?” Tames asked. “Wasn’t he hanging on the side of the wall?”

  Jev thought of the mental showdown between the ambassador and Zenia in the ballroom, the way the elf’s dragon tear had glowed with green energy. “I’m guessing the landlord was responsible. Or another elf in here.”

  Jev did not want to risk dealing with the ambassador by taking the stairs back down. Besides, even with all the chaos down there, it wouldn’t take Yilnesh long to escape. He might even find it easier to escape with so much going on in the garden. Jev grimaced, not feeling quite so wise now for orchestrating that.

  “We’re following him.” Jev slung his leg over the window sill.

  “Down seven floors? Founders, sir, you’ll get yourself killed. I can’t allow that.”

  “You’re the king’s guard, not mine, but thanks for the sentiment. I—oomph.” Jev’s hand slipped on an oily sheen covering the sill, and he almost pitched out the window.

  Tames lunged forward and caught his arm.

  Jev cursed as he also found something slick on the tower wall. He didn’t know how far down it extended, but he wagered it was far enough to deter them from following.

  “The stairs,” he barked at Tames, lunging back inside. “Go.”

  “What made you change your mind, sir?” Tames asked they he ran for the door.

  “I didn’t want you to have to explain my death.”

  They sprinted down three flights of stairs without encountering anyone. Jev prayed to the Air Dragon that Lornysh had somehow pulled the ambassador out of their route. But when they reached the fourth-floor landing, they almost ran into Lornysh’s back.

  He faced the ambassador, who stood several steps down with two dour-faced elves behind him. The ambassador’s dragon tear was out, the tree carving on the front glowing an intense green. Lornysh had no visible gem, but his face was tight with concentration. Working some magic of his own?

  Jev thought about slipping past him and attempting the brute force method of bowling into the elves, but he would likely earn a knife between the ribs that way. He was the intruder here, and they would feel justified in attacking him. Unfortunately, he knew he would get in trouble if he attacked them.

  Hoping he wouldn’t kill himself, Jev jumped past Lornysh and onto the railing, then off it, hoping he could land on the spiral stairs behind all the trouble. He made it to the railing behind the two assistant elves, but they whirled toward him as he jumped down onto the steps.

  He lunged upward, surprising them, and rammed a fist into one’s stomach. The elf grunted and doubled over. Jev shoved him toward his comrade.

  They might have recovered and put their superior agility to use, but Tames pursued the tactic Jev had rejected. He lunged past Lornysh, almost knocking him over, and flung himself into the ambassador. On the stairs, even the agile elf couldn’t evade him. He stumbled back into the other two elves who were trying to capture Jev.

  Jev blocked a grasp and landed another punch, silently thanking Tames for jostling them and distracting them. Fortunately, they did not appear to be some of the Taziir’s elite fighters, and they must have had orders not to pull bladed weapons on zyndar intruders. Thank the founders for that. Jev held his own with them, even connecting solidly with an uppercut that knocked one to his ass.

  Instead of pressing the advantage, he whirled and sprinted down the stairs, his original mission in mind. He feared it was too late, that Yilnesh had been given far more time than he needed to escape the compound. And Jev hadn’t the foggiest idea where he would go once he left.

  Running so fast he tripped twice, Jev made it to the bottom floor. As he sprinted for the door, the air in front of it flashed with dozens of tiny yellow motes. Jev lunged for it, but he crashed into some invisible barrier.

  He cursed and yelled, “Lornysh!”

  A cry of pain and rage came from above. The motes disappeared.

  Jev yanked the door open and sprang out into air choked with smoke. Flames from a dozen fires lit the night, and wood snapped and crackled, half of the garden on fire. The realization that he would get in trouble for laying waste to the politically designated sanctuary of another race passed through his mind. None of this would be worth it if he couldn’t catch the elf and save Targyon.

  “I’ll get you, you bastard,” Jev growled and sprinted down the path.

  The open gate came into sight. Had the elf already exited it?

  A huge dark figure leaped out of the trees and onto the path ahead of Jev. The creature.

  21

  Zenia, Rhi, and Garlok rode up to the walled compound, flames visible in the canopies of the trees and shouts echoing through the open gate. Garlok sprang from his horse’s back, not pausing to tie the animal anywhere, and ran through the gate. Zenia, not certain if a full-blown battle was underway inside, stopped several yards away and gripped her dragon tear. It was the closest thing to a weapon she had with her, but more than that, she hoped it would tell her if their enemy was inside.

  She was aware of Rhi sliding off behind her, bo in hand, and jogging to the gate, but Zenia focused on the gem while picturing the spiky-haired elf in her mind.

  “Where is he?” she murmured.

  The dragon tear vibrated against her palm and drew her awareness away from the gate and toward a portion of the wall closer to the intersection they had just passed. The fires burning in the garden provided more light than normal, and Zenia gasp
ed when she spotted a hooded figure crouching atop the wall. It—he sprang down to the street.

  “Stop!” Zenia cried as the elf turned to run up an alley. She drew upon the dragon tear, just as she would have done with her old gem, adding its power to her voice.

  The elf halted so abruptly, he almost pitched to the cobblestones.

  Zenia wheeled her horse about and raced toward him, afraid the magic would wear off quickly, that his innate elven powers would allow him to overcome it.

  The elf recovered and spun to face her. His hood had fallen to his shoulders, revealing his spiky brown hair and pale, icy eyes that bored into her with hatred.

  He lifted an arm and threw something at her.

  Anticipating some vial of acid, Zenia willed the dragon tear to protect her.

  The vial flashed and exploded in the air several yards away, a boom ringing out as smoke flooded the street. Her horse shrieked in alarm and reared onto its hind legs. Zenia pitched backward before she could tighten her grip on the reins.

  As she tumbled off the horse, she tried to twist in the air to land on her feet. But the ground came too quickly. She cringed, expecting to strike shoulder-first. Something cushioned her, and her shoulder stopped a foot from the cobblestones. For a second, she hung sideways in the air above the street.

  A surge of indignation flared in her chest—no, that came from the dragon tear. The elf was getting away—and the gem didn’t like that.

  Zenia scrambled to her feet, and they touched down on the cobblestones. But only for an instant. Something propelled her from behind, and she found herself running through the smoke at three times her normal speed.

  She came out of the haze in time to see the elf darting into an alley. She raced after him, wildly out of control, fearing she would carom off the whitewashed walls.

  “Stop!” she yelled again.

  The elf had been about to race out of the alley on the far side, but once again, he lurched, frozen for a second. It was enough for Zenia to catch up to him. And barrel into him. She couldn’t stop herself in time, and they crashed to the hard cobblestones together.