“How many scouts did you bring?” Jev asked again.
“I will speak no more. Tell your elf servant to—”
Lornysh tightened his grip, and the troll hissed. Lornysh spoke in their language of hisses and clucks. The troll spat a reply. Lornysh let his dagger sink deeper, and blood dripped from his prisoner’s throat.
The troll threw up his arms and tried to knock Lornysh away, whirling toward the elf with a snarl. Jev rushed forward to sink a dagger in their enemy’s back, but Lornysh finished him first, slitting his throat. The troll was dead before he hit the ground.
After hearing about his plans to boil human children, Jev had no sympathy or regret for the troll. “What did you ask about? Their numbers? Did he say anything useful?”
“That elves taste good.”
“So, not that useful unless you’re planning a menu for a banquet.”
Even in the poor lighting, Jev could see the flat look Lornysh gave him.
“We’ll find another one that will talk,” Lornysh said.
He stalked toward the first one he’d killed and retrieved his arrows.
“We may find answers in that cabin if we can sneak in,” Jev said.
“We’ll find answers in the throats of our enemies,” Lornysh growled and stalked off.
“Guess he didn’t like being called tasty,” Jev mumbled to himself, following him.
“I can’t believe they abandoned us here,” Rhi said as twilight deepened in the swamp.
“I can’t believe you wanted to go with them to kill trolls.” Zenia touched her pack where it rested against the log beside her. She’d had the foresight to bring a lantern in case their trip took longer than expected, but she wouldn’t dare light it with trolls roaming the swamp nearby. They might be all over the place, not only in that camp.
“Trolls that are here to invade our kingdom? Of course I did. I mean, I could at least knock them out and pummel them a bit. I could leave the throat-slitting to Lornysh. He doesn’t seem to mind that.”
Zenia shivered a little. The temperature had dropped, but she knew that wasn’t the reason. She could accept Lornysh as a throat-slitter, but the idea of Jev acting as an assassin troubled her. He held his honor so close that it was hard to imagine him finding it acceptable to sneak up on an enemy and stick a dagger in his back. But his honor might also demand he do whatever necessary to protect the people of Kor. And his family.
How far was his land from here? Less than ten miles, she thought. She couldn’t truly object to him protecting those he loved. Had there been more people she loved in the city, perhaps she would have been more horrified and affronted by the threat the trolls represented.
Hunkered here in a swamp wasn’t the time for feeling sad about the life choices she had made and her lack of family, but as the minutes oozed past, she found herself thinking about how the few people she truly cared about were out here with her. She’d thought she had friends at the temple, or at least good acquaintances, but they’d been so quick to turn their backs on her that maybe they’d never been friends at all. Only Rhi had come out to speak with her after she’d been ostracized. And Jev… She may have only met him a few weeks earlier, but she’d worked so closely with him during that time that she’d come to know him far better than many people she’d known for years. And she’d come to care about him. Maybe even more than care about him, if she was honest with herself.
She peered over the log in the direction he and Lornysh had gone, the pungent earthy scent of the moss and fungi offending her city-bred nostrils. It was too dim now to see more than a couple dozen feet away. How long had the men been gone? It seemed like a half hour or even an hour had passed. Long enough for them to have been captured and even killed.
No, surely not. At the least, they wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, and she and Rhi were close enough to that camp that they would hear shouts and gunshots. Zenia hadn’t heard any noise since the men left, aside from the occasional splash of some creature dropping into one of the stagnant pools. Occasionally, a faint moan came from across a muddy flat in the opposite direction of the encampment. She hadn’t figured out what animal was making it.
Rhi gripped her arm. “Do you hear that?”
She was looking in the direction of the moans too. A low, deep one had just floated across the flat.
Zenia nodded. “I’m not sure what’s making them. Some animal in pain?”
“Animal? I thought it sounded like a person.”
“Who else would be out here?”
“We’re not that far from the city. Could be some kid. Could be that Tildar.”
They had come out here looking for him. Was it possible someone who had gilded drain spouts on his townhouse would be staying in that rude cabin? Or have wandered out into the swamp and been injured?
“We should go investigate,” Rhi said.
“Are you hoping to find something to thump?”
“I am distressed that Jev and Points didn’t think I could help them with the trolls. But whatever is making that noise sounds like it’s already been thumped.”
“If we wander over there in the dark, we might not find our way back to this spot.”
Zenia touched her dragon tear. Technically, she could get it to glow and illuminate the way—or they could light the lantern attached to her pack. But she worried an unfriendly troll would see their light, come over, and thump them.
“Wait,” she murmured, remembering how she’d used the dragon tear’s magic to sense life around her earlier. If she could use it to tell if any trolls or crocodiles were close by, maybe they could safely investigate. And maybe the gem could guide them back to the log too.
The dragon tear vibrated warmly against her chest and emitted a soft blue glow. It seemed to radiate approval of her thoughts. Because it agreed it could do those things or because it was tired of sitting next to a smelly log?
“Is it going to show us the way?” Rhi eyed the gem.
“Let’s hope so. Follow me.”
Zenia had only taken a few steps toward the muddy flat area when the dragon tear pulsed and drew her to one side. It didn’t force her legs to walk that way, but she had the distinct impression it would be wise to obey.
An image sprang into her mind of a person dressed in old-fashioned cotton clothes being caught out there, the mud sucking at his boots. More than sucking at. He struggled but was slowly pulled under the surface.
Quick mud? Zenia shuddered and stepped precisely where the dragon tear wanted her to.
“That isn’t the way,” Rhi whispered.
“Trust me, it is. Walk exactly where I walk.”
The dragon tear guided her like a divining rod pulling a thirsty traveler to water.
“What happens if I don’t?” Rhi asked.
“We find out if my dragon tear can rescue you from mud equivalent to quicksand.”
“Ah.” After a few more steps, Rhi added, “You wouldn’t try to rescue me?”
“I’d be holding the dragon tear while it did the work. It would be a group effort.”
“Comforting.”
Once they passed the brown muddy area, the gem guided them back in the direction of the moan. Another one drifted through the swamp, louder now. Maybe it did belong to a person.
The air grew less close, and Zenia thought she smelled fresher water. In the darkness, she didn’t see a pool, however, until they were almost on top of it. It held clearer water than what they had been passing all day, and she spotted a crude dock thrusting out from the shoreline.
The dragon tear shared an image of the far side of the pool. It opened up and led out into the Jade River. Zenia felt a sense of relief from knowing they could head that direction and find their way home if needed. Such as if they were being chased by angry trolls.
“Is that a boat?” Rhi asked.
Zenia could make out a dark shape on the other side of the dock. It took her a few more steps before she could identify it as a rowboat tied to a post. The d
ock extended into the pool far enough that there would have been room for at least six of them.
A moan came from the craft, and Zenia jumped.
The dragon tear drew her forward, and she didn’t sense alarm or imminent danger from it, but she withdrew her utility knife. She would have preferred the pistol, but her ammo pouch had been soaked when she fell in the other lake. Rhi gripped her bo in both hands.
As Zenia came around the head of the dock, the dragon tear shone its blue light brightly enough to illuminate the contents of the rowboat. A single person lay on his side in the water pooled at the bottom of it. A short, stout person with a red beard.
“Cutter?” Rhi asked uncertainly.
The figure moaned again but also stirred, lifting his head and an arm. An arm with a stump where a hand should have been. Zenia gasped.
“It is Cutter,” Rhi said. “He lost his hook.”
A wave of pain rolled over Zenia, and she gasped again for a different reason. The dragon tear was sharing his emotions—his pain—with her.
“Let’s get him out,” Zenia said.
Rhi had already started forward. Together, they levered Cutter out of the boat. He was well under five feet tall, but he was stocky and muscular, so it wasn’t an easy task. They laid him on the shore—thankfully, it was more pebbles than mud here—and Zenia slung her pack off her shoulders.
“I have a first-aid kit,” she said as she dug into an outside pocket.
“I think he’s going to need more than a first-aid kit.” Rhi held up her hands, Cutter’s blood smearing her palms. “It looks like someone left him for dead.”
“Hopefully, he’ll be able to tell us what happened.” Zenia pulled out bandages and a bottle of Grodonol’s Pain-No-More.
“Maybe.”
They had tried to lay Cutter on his back, but he curled onto his side again, as he’d been in the boat, his legs and arms protectively over his stomach. A gash on his cheek bled profusely, but that wasn’t what bothered him.
“We’ll have to make friends with a healer and bring him or her on future outings into the wilds.” Zenia touched Cutter’s shoulder. “Cutter? It’s Jev’s friend, Zenia. I want to wash and bandage your wound until we can get you back to town. We’ll take you to the hospital as soon as we can. Do you understand?”
He was moaning to himself, so he had to be conscious. His eyes were squinted shut though.
“On future outings into the wilds,” Rhi said, “maybe we should bring an army instead of a healer. Or an army and a healer.”
Zenia grimaced, now feeling foolish that they hadn’t brought more people. But how could she have anticipated encountering all this a few miles outside of town?
“We’ll do the best we can,” she said firmly.
16
Jev didn’t like to think of his friend as bloodthirsty, but as he stood guard outside the second tent Lornysh had gone into with an assassin’s intent, he had to accept that Lornysh had a heartless streak. Targyon would thank him for slaying enemies so close to the capital, but Jev would have preferred to face the trolls in battle rather than skulking about and striking in the night. Logically, he knew they didn’t have another choice, not when there were only two of them, but—
A grunt came from inside the tent, and the flap stirred. The only light came from a campfire burning in front of another tent, and Jev almost missed the movement. He jumped back, facing the entrance as a bare-chested troll surged out with a club in hand.
The troll had sharp eyes and spotted him immediately. The towering scout opened his mouth to yell, but Jev leaped in, slashing toward his head. If he let a troll yell, the entire camp would know he and Lornysh were there and descend upon them. Maybe it was already too late.
The troll jerked his club up to block, but Jev turned the attack into a feint and withdrew before their weapons clashed. He stabbed toward the troll’s chest. His foe turned his shoulder, and the blade dug into arm muscle instead of piercing bone and organ. The troll gasped in pain, and Jev winced, fearing the sound would carry.
He launched a series of feints and attacks, hoping to hit a more vital target. The troll parried with his club, wood and steel meeting with a thwack. Too much noise, Jev groaned to himself. But he didn’t know how to stop it. On his third rapid thrust, his blade slipped through, catching his foe on the hip. A snarl came from the troll’s lips, and he launched himself at Jev.
Jev sprang to the side and ducked as the club swept over his head, close enough to stir his hair. Not allowing himself to feel daunted, Jev leaped back in. He thrust before the troll recovered from his big swing. This time, Jev’s blade sank deep into his enemy’s flesh, right beside the spine.
The troll’s back arched, the club dropping from his fingers. Anticipating he would cry out, Jev lunged close, grabbing him from behind and covering his mouth. The troll bit his hand and elbowed him. Jev grunted, taking a blow to his abdomen, but he raked his short sword across the troll’s throat. Hot blood spilled onto his hand, and for a moment, he was back in the Taziira forests, fighting hand-to-hand with elven wardens that had infiltrated his camp, trying to kill the officers in charge. A sergeant and good friend went down to the invaders, and Jev sprang in, enraged as he slit an elf’s throat.
Jev stomped the memory down as he released the troll. Others had likely heard the fight, which hadn’t been anywhere near as silent or elegant as Lornysh’s assassinations. He needed his mind to be in the here and now.
A couple of trolls in nearby tents stepped outside, the firelight silhouetting them. They lifted their noses, sniffing the air like hounds. Jev hoped they smelled only woodsmoke, but he pointed his pistol at them. If they realized an elf and human were sneaking about in their camp, they would raise an alarm. Then silence wouldn’t matter any longer.
A touch to Jev’s shoulder made him jump.
“In here,” Lornysh breathed, the words softer than a breeze.
The trolls at the fire spoke to each other, but they hadn’t yet looked in Jev’s direction. Lornysh held the tent flap aside, and Jev backed in.
He could smell death, and he was glad it was pitch dark inside. He couldn’t see sleeping areas or how many trolls lay unmoving in them.
Lornysh gripped his arm and guided him to the back of the tent. He muttered something, and the flames on his sword came to life, more muted than usual, providing only a small amount of light. It revealed Lornysh crouching before a strongbox.
As Jev’s eyes adjusted, he grew aware of dead trolls on blankets, but he focused on the box. A few ink bottles and quills lay in the dirt next to it. Was this the command tent? Lornysh must have chosen it on purpose.
The strongbox was locked, but Lornysh stared at it, and a soft click sounded. He opened the lid, pulled out a folded parchment, and spread it out. He held his fiery blade over it and waved Jev closer so he could see.
It was a map of Korvann and the twenty miles around the city in all directions. The zyndar castles within that area were drawn onto the map, represented by small gray crenelated towers. Jev gritted his teeth when he saw Dharrow Castle with its pond and moat delineated. Someone had drawn a square with a circle around it next to the tower and written words he couldn’t read. A similar symbol and words were scrawled by Krox Castle ten miles out of the city on the opposite side. Alderoth Castle, perched on its hill overlooking Korvann, had a red X through it. Down in the city, lines with arrows were pointed along some of the main streets. Invasion routes.
Jev unclenched his jaw and pointed at the writing next to his castle. “What does it say?”
“It’s been chosen as a staging area.”
Jev curled his fingers tightly around his sword, his knuckles showing white. He seethed as he imagined trolls battering down the front doors or scaling the walls with ropes, invading his home and attacking his cousins and his little nieces and nephews. The staff he’d known all his life and people he’d just met, people who believed themselves safe working for the Dharrows.
“When?” he g
rowled. “When does it start?”
Lornysh shook his head. “It doesn’t say. When the scouts report back that everything is ready, likely.”
“Everything isn’t going to be ready.” Jev looked at the dead trolls, the ones he’d avoided seeing before, and now, he felt Lornysh’s choice perfectly acceptable. “None of these scouts are going to report in.”
Lornysh met his eyes, not questioning what Jev meant. “Agreed.”
Jev led the way out and stalked straight toward the trolls at the fire.
“Zenia?” Cutter whispered, his voice thick with pain.
“Yes.” Zenia was wrapping bandages around his torso to cover the huge stab wounds in his chest and abdomen while Rhi held him propped up. She wished she could give the poor dwarf a hug, but that might hurt more than the bandaging. She’d done her best to clean the wounds, but she hadn’t been able to get any of the painkiller potion down his throat yet. “I’m glad to see you’re coherent. Want to take a swig from that brown bottle?” She tilted her head toward where it sat on the pebbles next to her.
“Is it alcohol?”
“I think that’s one of the ingredients.” Zenia tied the bandage she’d been wrapping, uncorked the bottle, and offered it to him.
His hand shook when he lifted it, so she kept one of hers around the bottle and helped him tip the liquid into his mouth.
He spat what had to be curses in dwarven and followed them with, “That tastes like ogre piss. Except thicker. And more rotten.”
“It’ll numb your pain.” She decided not to ask when he’d sampled ogre urine before.
“Alcohol would have done that too.”
“No, alcohol would have knocked you out,” Zenia said.
“I fail to see how we’re disagreeing.”
Rhi snorted. “I think I’d rather have alcohol too. I can smell that stuff from here.”
“Take another drink,” Zenia insisted. Grodonol, the inventor of Pain-No-More, displayed his sense of humor in all his products and this one was no different. Under the light from her dragon tear, she saw the recommended dosage was “three chugs for anything worse than a bee sting.”
Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series Page 76
