A blast of energy came from the portal, knocking her against the wall again. Splashes sounded as others were thrown into the water.
All light vanished from the underground chamber. Even Zenia’s dragon tear grew dark. Still. Dead?
For a few seconds, the only sounds were of people breathing, along with a few limp splashes from the pool. Then the earth shook again, and rocks started falling.
Zenia envisioned the ceiling tumbling down.
A hand gripped her. In the dark, she had no idea whose it was, but she was hoisted into the air and draped over a hard shoulder.
“Rhi!” she shouted, fearing her friend would be left behind.
Rocks slammed down. One struck whoever held her, and the man staggered. He recovered and felt his way along the walkway and the wall.
“Get out of here,” he yelled. “Everyone, now!”
It was Heber.
Someone else shouted in elven. Heber cursed and walked faster, Zenia bouncing on his shoulder.
Lights appeared somewhere ahead. Not magical glowing lights but simple lantern light. As soon as she started to feel relieved, swords clashed.
“Get her,” Jev barked. “Don’t let her—”
A pained grunt sounded as more rocks slammed down. One clipped Zenia in the head. She twisted out of Heber’s grasp. He cursed but let her go. As men rushed into the room carrying lanterns, half clambering over fallen rubble, Zenia spotted Rhi. She was in the same spot she’d been crumpled in before and wasn’t moving. By the founders, she couldn’t be dead.
“Jev,” Zenia yelled. “I need your help.”
She tried to call upon her dragon tear, but it was as if she wore a lifeless rock around her throat. It had used all its power to destroy the portal. What if she’d permanently burned it out and had forever lost the soul linked to it?
“Coming,” Jev called. “I see you. Father, two elves ran by. Go get them before they can hurt anyone.”
Jev rushed into the chamber as Heber and his surviving men pushed their way out.
“It’s Rhi.” Zenia pulled a chunk of rock off her friend’s unmoving back, not caring about the elves that had gotten away. If Rhi was dead because she’d leaped in front of Zenia multiple times to protect her…
She found Rhi’s throat in the poor lighting, praying to the Blue Dragon that she would find a pulse.
“She’s alive,” she blurted.
“I’ll get her.” Jev touched Zenia’s shoulder, then gathered the unconscious Rhi into his arms.
“Thank you.” She patted him on the back, surprised that his clothing was soaking wet. “That’s not blood, is it?” In the dim light, she couldn’t tell.
“No, I took a swim. I’ll explain everything later, but we did kill Vornzylar, and Lornysh is all right. Injured, but that’s his new normative state.”
Zenia grunted, her entire body aching from the battering she’d taken, her throat bruised and raw. “I can empathize. Maybe later, we can—”
Shouts and a bang drifted down from somewhere above them, muted by the layers of rock.
“Never mind,” Zenia said, trailing Jev toward the exit.
“Hold that thought. We’ll find some time for recuperation later.”
Zenia, worried for his family and the people who lived in the castle, didn’t say anything. She was fairly certain only two elves had slipped out, but she knew firsthand how much trouble two of those wardens could cause.
“I had no idea this was down here,” Jev said as they wound back through the dusty passageways. “I knew about the dungeon. Vastiun and I used to play down there when we were boys.”
“A natural recreation area.”
“We thought the old torture implements were particularly delightful.”
“Boys are ghouls.”
“Sometimes, yes.”
More shouts drifted down from the courtyard, and Jev picked up his pace as they passed through the dungeon. Heber and his men must have already chased the elves out because Zenia didn’t see anyone else in there.
A faint tingle emanated from her dragon tear.
She grasped it, relieved it had come back to life but worried it was warning her about something. Magic being used in the courtyard? Or was it simply letting her know it was there for her if she needed it?
She thought she sensed weariness in the gem, or the personality linked to it, and she tried to let it know it could rest, that she wouldn’t need to draw upon it again. She hoped that was true.
The clang of steel rang out in the courtyard.
Jev sprinted up the last of the stairs, past the kitchen, and through the main hallway. He laid Rhi down in an out-of-the-way alcove behind an urn that had been knocked over, then drew a sword that Zenia didn’t recognize and sprinted out. She followed, fearing they would have to battle those two elves again.
But as they burst into the sunlight, they spotted the elves right away, lying on their backs with swords pointing at their throats. The men holding the swords weren’t Dharrow guards; they wore the king’s blue, purple, and gold livery. Dozens of similar men on horseback blocked the open gate out of the castle, and several royal steam carriages were parked on the other side of the drawbridge.
Zenia spotted Targyon mounted on a horse in the back with the princess next to him, her eyes closed and a hand outstretched toward the elves on the cobblestones. She opened her eyes and glared at them, then spoke in elven.
Jev had stopped a few steps into the courtyard. Zenia looked to him for a translation.
“She’s angry with their faction and calling them immature idiots for destroying her ship and her tower.”
“Idiots? I didn’t know elves had such simple insults.”
“It has a lot of syllables in their language and rhymes with ship, so it sounds elegant.”
“Ah.” Zenia rubbed her face, relieved the situation was under control. She didn’t think she could have asked for more from her dragon tear.
Heber Dharrow, his face bloody and his eyes livid, watched the goings on while the princess spoke—or maybe lectured. Zenia couldn’t tell if Heber was angry at the two elven intruders who had barged into his basement or simply angry that elves of any kind were on his land.
Zyndari Bludnor was nowhere to be seen, but Zenia wouldn’t presume that knocking out her dragon tear would change the situation between Jev and his father—and the arranged marriage. As far as Zenia knew, that was something Heber had wanted before the zyndari woman showed up.
“Let them rise,” Princess Yesleva said in the kingdom tongue, her voice ringing throughout the courtyard, enhanced by some magic. “But take their weapons. I will send them back to my homeland where my father will decide what their punishment will be for intruding here and destroying elven property.”
“And killing humans,” Jev said. “We lost some of Krox’s men out there.” He pointed toward one of the castle walls.
“Where is Vornzylar?” Yesleva asked. “He will be held accountable for the actions of those he killed who were not hyrishimo.”
Zenia looked at Jev again.
He sighed and quietly translated. “Traitors. She didn’t state it, but I gather that killing Lornysh would have been acceptable.” He glanced toward the fountain. Lornysh, looking tired and injured, sat on the edge closest to the wall.
Yesleva gazed in that direction, but Zenia didn’t sense any animosity in her eyes. If anything, she appeared speculative.
“Vornzylar is dead,” Lornysh said, then switched to elven to continue a conversation with her.
“He’s explaining what happened out there,” Jev told Zenia.
“What did happen? You say you didn’t know you had a portal in your basement?”
He snorted. “No. That must have been from… I’m not even sure. From a time when Dharrows were friends with elves, and comings and goings were common.”
“Your mother’s time?”
“Before her, I think. If my father didn’t know about that secret passage—” Jev shrugged,
looking as tired as Lornysh. Zenia had the urge to hug him, maybe give him a rubdown and a bath, like one might do with a horse. A massage, she supposed it was called for humans. She’d never massaged a man, but she wouldn’t mind trying. “I have a feeling it’s been forgotten for a long, long time,” Jev added. He explained how he and Lornysh and Cutter had been too late to stop the elves from using the communication stone but that they had run into Vornzylar and that Jev had ultimately been the one to kill him.
“What?” Lornysh blurted.
Jev looked back, his brows knitting, and Zenia felt bad for interrupting him and causing him to miss something. Maybe he would forgive her after that massage.
“You seem to be the logical choice,” Targyon said dryly, speaking for the first time.
The two elven prisoners frowned darkly at Lornysh and also at the princess, but the guards were tying them, and Zenia sensed some magic keeping them still.
“You mean the only choice?” Lornysh asked.
“It is true that there are few of our people interested in coming to Kor right now,” Yesleva said. “At least for peaceful purposes.”
“Neither the king nor the elven diplomats in other nations would accept me.”
“I am positive I can talk Father into accepting you, and there is no reason why you would have to interact with our ambassadors in other nations. You will send reports directly to Ormaleshon, and he will send his instructions directly to you. A simple chain-of-command.”
“We’ll rebuild your tower, of course, Lornysh.” Targyon smiled.
“It’s not my tower. I haven’t said yes to this craziness.”
Targyon’s smile faded, his eyes growing serious. “I would be happy to see you there rather than some old elf I’m not familiar with and can’t trust.”
“You would ask me to act in your favor over that of my people?” Lornysh arched his eyebrows.
“I would ask you to help me maintain a diplomatic relationship with the Taziir, one I hope we can improve over time. To establish trade and invite elves back into the kingdom… I know it’s early, but I hope this can be done.”
“You’re an optimist.”
“What hope is there for a nation whose ruler isn’t?”
Lornysh shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Zenia had no idea if he would accept the position.
Jev scratched his jaw and mumbled a, “Huh.”
Maybe he had no idea either.
Someone cleared a throat behind them. Rhi.
Zenia spun, chagrined she’d momentarily forgotten about her friend. Bruised, scraped, and with bumps starting to swell, Rhi leaned against the doorjamb and peered blearily at them.
“Usually,” she said, wincing at the effort to speak or maybe the brightness of the sunlight, “injured people get deposited on beds with handsome male nurses there to sponge their grimy bodies and smear healing potions on their wounds. They’re not dumped into alcoves next to a dusty urn with oddly long hairs zigzagging through the glaze.”
“That’s horsehair,” Jev said, “and it was quite fashionable to include it in pottery a while back. My grandmother made a number of urns like that.”
“It’s gross.”
“I always thought so too. Here, I’ll carry you to a bed. I don’t think we have any male nurses though.” Jev looked around the courtyard, as if making sure nobody was going to start shooting in the next thirty seconds, and stepped toward her, holding out his arms.
Zenia thought her proud friend would object, but it did look like the doorjamb was the only thing keeping Rhi from falling back behind the urn.
“No male nurses with sponges? You’re certain?” Rhi slumped into his arms when Jev came close.
He swept her up and headed into the castle. “I think Mildrey, our cook, has some sponges. One of her assistants is male.”
“Aren’t those sponges for washing dishes?”
“Likely so. Are you going to be fussy?”
“Is this assistant cook handsome?” Rhi asked. “Is he married?”
“No and yes. He has seven kids that live down in Red Hat Village.”
“Maybe I’ll see if Hydal is available to recite stories to me again.”
“That does sound more promising than being sponged like a soup pot.”
“You’re a strange man, Dharrow. I’m not sure what Zenia sees in you.”
Zenia smiled as she trailed after them, not wanting to risk being drawn into another conversation with Heber. She hoped the brief one they’d had earlier would suffice for Jev. He’d wanted her to remove the manipulation, and she had. Zenia doubted it was within her power to convince Heber that she was a well-mannered woman who would make a lovely daughter-in-law.
“Nor am I,” Jev said, turning toward a wing of guest rooms. “It’s a good thing her taste is questionable.”
He spoke quietly to one of the staff he passed, eliciting a promise that the woman would find the healer to look in on Rhi as soon as possible, and then took her into a room. Zenia sat on a chair while he went to fetch water and some pain potions himself.
“He’s a strange man but a good one,” Rhi said, settling her head back on a pillow and closing her eyes. “You should have wild and passionate sex with him tonight and forget about what the gossiping ninnies in the castle say.”
“I was thinking of offering him a massage.”
“Do that. And then have sex with him. He’ll thank you profusely.”
Jev returned in time to hear her words, and his eyebrows rose. After the day she’d had, Zenia shouldn’t have blushed at such silly talk, but she felt her cheeks grow hot.
“She’s not wrong.” Jev touched her shoulder on his way to Rhi’s bed. “But we could start with dinner.”
“I’d like that,” Zenia said.
“After I have a long frank talk with my father. Did you, ah—” He waved to her dragon tear.
“Yes. I believe the link is broken, at least for now. It’s possible the whole dragon tear is broken. If so, I may have to apologize, as destroying a priceless magical gem may go beyond my authority as an Agent of the Crown.”
“Maybe so, but accidents happen.” Jev sat next to Rhi and measured a dose of Grodonol’s Pain-No-More.
“Jev,” Zenia protested at his cavalier attitude.
He twitched a shoulder. “She was using it to further personal gain at the risk of ruining others’ lives. She deserves to lose it. The Orders would agree.”
Two dour-faced guards from Alderoth Castle walked in, and Zenia stood uncertainly. After talking about her dragon tear’s deed, she half-expected them to tell her she was to be arrested.
“Captain Cham?” a feminine voice came from the hall outside. Princess Yesleva.
“I’m in here.” Zenia faced the door as the guards stepped aside politely for the princess to enter. She didn’t see Targyon in the hall. Maybe he was monitoring the situation in the courtyard. Zenia supposed it was too much to hope that Targyon was talking to Heber and informing him that arranged marriages were soon to be outlawed.
“I meant to speak with you earlier about your dragon tear,” Yesleva said.
Zenia swallowed, nerves springing to life in her gut. Had someone finally figured out she was too ignorant and unworthy to wield such powerful magic? Had the elves lost it long ago and come to reclaim it?
The idea of losing the dragon tear—and the quirky personality it had shared with her—distressed her, and she had to resist the urge to wrap her fingers around it and sprint away before the princess could deliver any ultimatums.
“Oh?” she asked carefully.
“It is not my place to judge, but the soul linked to your dragon tear is in pain. Do you know this? It is unfair of you to use her so when she is not free.”
Zenia swayed, the backs of her knees bumping her chair. “You know about him? Er, her?”
“I can sense her through your dragon tear, and I sense her pain.” Yesleva frowned sternly.
Zenia almost blurted
that it wasn’t her fault, but she had a resource here who knew more than she did. She had to question Yesleva for all her knowledge while she had a chance.
“Where is she? Do you know? What do you mean she’s not free? Why not?” Zenia thought of all the nightmares she’d had, of herself—or what had seemed like herself—chained in a cave with an orc sword-wielder approaching. “Is she truly a dragon?”
“Yes, she’s a dragon. I’m not sure how her soul came to be linked to that dragon tear, as she seems quite young.”
Zenia nodded vigorously in agreement. She’d always sensed a youthful enthusiasm and even playfulness from the dragon tear.
“It’s possible that after she was imprisoned, she used her magic to siphon a portion of her soul into the gem in the hope that someone would find her and help her.” Yesleva stepped forward and lifted a hand toward Zenia’s chest. “May I?”
Zenia held the dragon tear out on its chain so the princess could touch it. It glowed a faint blue and emanated a sense of uncertainty tinged with wonder. Could Yesleva feel that?
Yesleva wrapped her fingers around the gem and closed her eyes. “Her physical body is far from here. Perhaps where she is, she could find nobody willing to help her, to defy those who hold her captive. And she thought a human could help her.” Yesleva opened her eyes and tilted her head, as if puzzled by the idea. “I would like to think an elf would have helped, though I suppose our people rarely travel to Izstara. They are loathed by the orcs, trolls, and ogres that live there, ever since the Race Wars. It’s also possible she has never seen an elf. But humans are more likely to be tolerated there if they offer some value. There are traders that travel the world and venture into those jungles.”
“Izstara?” Zenia whispered.
Yesleva lowered her hand. “You should go there and free her. It is unfair of you to use her magic while she is in pain and a prisoner.”
“Where on the continent is she?” Jev asked, speaking for the first time in several minutes.
“The northern end, I believe.”
“That narrows it down to a couple thousand square miles,” Jev said.
Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series Page 107
