Corroded

by Becca Andre

  “Grayson,” she spoke his name on a breathless whisper.

  He pulled away with a gasp, his blue-gray eyes—now thankfully human—widening as they stared into hers. “Oh damn.”

  Something about his response, or maybe it was the weak-kneed relief of having him back, made her laugh. She slumped forward and let her forehead come to rest on his shoulder.

  He wrapped her in a hug, kissing her temple. “Sorry.”

  “About what?” She struggled to restrain her laughter and hugged him in turn.

  “You instructed me to keep the conversation polite.”

  “I don’t know as that qualifies as conversation—and I believe I started it.” She wondered if he could feel the warmth in her cheeks against his shoulder.

  “Hmm, true,” he answered, his tone considering.

  “Though you did take things to extreme.”

  “I did. For that, I’m sorry,” his tone turned series.

  She leaned back to gauge his expression. He was watching her with an earnest, though slightly worried expression. But he didn’t seem embarrassed to have shared such a thought with her.

  “You’re forgiven,” she told him.

  He studied her. “You’ve never considered such a thing?” He didn’t appear to be teasing. He seemed genuinely interested in her answer.

  She didn’t want to lie, but… Dear Lord, were they really having a conversation about this?

  He seemed to realize what he was asking and pressed a finger to her lips. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer.”

  Deciding to take him up on that, she moved to a safer topic. “It worked. I brought you back—without Lock.”

  He took a deep breath and released it. “Yes, you did.” He turned and walked to the bunk to retrieve his shirt, the metal in his back glinting in the light. It didn’t look any worse than it had been. “I hope you got what you wanted from that experiment,” he continued, “because we’re not doing that again.”

  “Why not?” she asked, not understanding the abrupt change in his demeanor.

  “I frightened you.”

  “Maybe a little, but—”

  “I’m serious. I won’t do that again.” He didn’t get to elaborate as the hatch thumped open above them.

  Briar turned and saw skirts appear in the opening. “It’s Molly.”

  Grayson gave the ladder a faint frown before he turned his attention to his buttons.

  Molly stepped away from the ladder and faced them. “Do I need to formulate some excuse, or do you already know why I’m here?”

  “Eli,” Briar answered.

  Molly smiled, a twinkle in her eyes. “How’s the experiment going?” Briar had told her and Eli that she and Grayson were going to try something with regard to helping her learn her magic, though she’d left out the details.

  “We’re done,” Briar answered.

  “Did you learn anything?” She smirked at Grayson. “Or was this just another excuse for Mr. Martel to remove his shirt?”

  “It was my idea,” Briar said.

  “Understood,” Molly answered with a knowing look.

  Grayson offered a halfhearted smile and pulled on his waistcoat. “Do you think Eli would mind steering a little closer to shore? I could do with a walk.”

  “I’m sure he’ll oblige,” Briar answered. “Is something wrong?”

  “I’m just a little edgy after everything.” He shrugged, but kept his attention on his waistcoat buttons.

  “All right,” she answered, unable to probe deeper with Molly present. “I’m sure Zach would welcome some company.”

  “Thank you.” He turned and hurried up the ladder.

  “It didn’t go well, did it?” Molly asked.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “If he doesn’t return fire when I tease him, I know something is up.”

  Briar sighed. “It didn’t go badly, but I still have no idea what I’m doing.” She took a seat at the table.

  The silver fiddle morphed into the little metal dragon. With a whirr, Lock sprang up on her shoulder and rubbed his cheek against hers.

  Molly sat down across from her. “I wish I could help you. And him.” She reached out and took Briar’s hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “I asked Grayson to go cold for me, so I could bring him back—like the time he fought Eli.”

  “Were you able to do it?”

  “Yes.”

  Molly brightened. “Then you were successful.”

  “I was, but my success seems dependent on his humanity. What happens when he’s devolved too much for that to be effective?”

  “Oh.” Molly frowned as she considered that.

  “Having a ferra grandmother has given me some unusual talents, but the fact remains that I am essentially human. If I’m to help him at all, it must be soon—while he’s still human. Or something like.”

  “I know it seems impossible, but don’t stop trying. And if there’s anything I can do…”

  “Just keep Eli busy and off my back.”

  Molly laughed. “I can do that.”

  Briar picked up her pen and pulled her notebook closer. “I guess I ought to record my findings.”

  “Don’t you sound like a scientist?”

  “I’m the furthest thing from it. If this was something I could punch and make it cooperate, I would.”

  “Of course.” Molly got to her feet with a chuckle. “I’ll leave you to your scientific studies and go reassure Eli that your diabolical admirer hadn’t murdered you in your own cabin.”

  “Thank you. That’ll be one less problem. Though once Kali realizes Grayson has left the boat, she’ll be in here to let me know that I’m not keeping him on a tight enough leash.”

  “I’m sorry, but you’re on your own with her.”

  “I know.”

  With a sympathetic smile, Molly left Briar to her notes.

  The day was another hot one as the sun beat down from a cloudless sky. When not locking through or performing other duties required of them, Briar and her crew sought the shade of an awning. After lunch, they swapped out the team, and Zach and Grayson returned to the boat, both grateful to find some shade. The boat continued on, making good time, and would arrive in Roscoe by early afternoon where, unfortunately, Andrew would be waiting for her at the toll office.

  “Aqueduct coming up,” Eli said, rising from his seat on the tiller rail.

  “Already?” Briar stood up beside him. She squinted at the wooden structure in the distance. The Walhonding Aqueduct was the second longest on the canal, spanning over three hundred feet to cross the Walhonding River.

  “Is it clear?” she asked Eli. Like the locks, the aqueducts were only wide enough to accommodate one boat at a time. If another boat was crossing toward them, they would have to wait.

  “I don’t see a boat.”

  “Excellent. I’ll go let the boys know.” Not that Eli would need any help guiding them through the narrow confines, but there was a double lock at the end they would need to lock through.

  She stepped up onto the aft deck and crossed to the hatch. With the tarp stretched across the cargo hold for shade, it was awkward to climb down.

  Reaching the bottom, Briar turned away from the ladder and was surprised to find Grayson seated at the table. Perseus sat across from him with her uncle’s chess set laid out between them. They were both stripped to the waist due to the heat in the cabin.

  Perseus faced away from her, a puckered scar visible on the back of his shoulder. She remembered the matching scar on his front. The old wound was the result of his first fight with a dragon. His half brother.

  Perseus slid his bishop across the board and took Grayson’s knight.

  “Hmm.” Grayson kept his eyes on the game, but she knew he had seen her.


  She quietly moved closer, studying the board over Perseus’s shoulder. “Looks like you have him on the defensive,” she said.

  Perseus jumped. “My Lady.” He started to rise, but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Grayson said. “I was about to defeat the dragon slayer.”

  “Oh really?” She exchanged a smirk with Perseus. “It doesn’t look that way to me.”

  Grayson frowned at the board, considering his next move.

  “I’d love to stay and watch,” she said, “but I came down here to collect Jimmy and Zach. We’re almost to the Walhonding Aqueduct. There’s a double lock at the far end.” Once they were closer, she would send a couple of the men ahead to check the locks for sabotage—and fit them, if necessary.

  “I’ll help you.” Grayson got to his feet, seeming especially eager to help out—or maybe to escape the game. He crossed to the nearby bunk and retrieved his shirt.

  Briar frowned at his back, then noticed Perseus watching, too. His eyes met hers for a moment; then he picked up his own shirt from the bench beside him and got to his feet.

  “I’m not going to bother with the waistcoat,” Grayson said as he faced them. “It’s too damn hot.”

  “Yes, it is,” Perseus agreed.

  “Days like this probably make you miss running around in a loin cloth,” Grayson said.

  Perseus laughed. “It was a chiton, and yes, it was much cooler.”

  “What’s a… chiton?” Briar struggled a little with the pronunciation.

  “A belted tunic,” Perseus answered, his attention on his buttons. “Clothing is a status symbol. The ease of production has led to more elaborate and concealing styles.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Briar said, not entirely certain he wasn’t messing with them. “But I should think modesty and decency would be a factor as well.”

  “You’re right, but such ideals shift and change with the passage of time.”

  “You would know.”

  A small smile curled Perseus’s lips as his gaze met hers. There was something in his blue eyes, a knowing look that gave her chills. How old was he?

  “Well, it’s a good thing we have these new rules,” Grayson said. “Miss Rose would be unable to function if I walked around naked.”

  “Mr. Martel,” Briar sputtered. “I should have Perseus take you out and thump on you—except you two are too evenly matched for that to prove effective.”

  “True.” Grayson tucked in his shirttails. “If the ferra had forced him to create a construct, it would have been a dragon.”

  “Is that possible?” Briar asked Grayson. “Can you create a construct from someone who isn’t a ferromancer?”

  “I can’t. That’s the domain of the ferra. But only a ferromancer can survive having his heart taken, since we can create a new one.”

  “Didn’t you once tell me that any ferromancer can create a construct?”

  “Technically, any ferromancer can be used to create a construct. Though we do design its physical form. That’s what I meant.”

  “How do the ferra do it?”

  Grayson shrugged. “You’d have to ask a ferra.”

  “Do you know?” she asked Perseus. Unlike Grayson, who had only lived among the ferra during early childhood, Perseus had spent a lot more time with them.

  “A ferromancer’s soul has an affinity for soul iron,” Perseus answered, his tone matter-of-fact. “A ferra with enough power can use her soul fire to dislodge the residual soul within a ferromancer’s freshly removed heart, and it will jump into the soul iron construct he designed.”

  “That’s just… horrible.” She could think of no better way to describe it. “Is that why soul fire can kill? It dislodges the soul?”

  “In a human, it dislodges the entire soul,” Perseus answered. “With most Scourge and ferromancers as well—depending on the power of the ferra involved.”

  “You’ve been hit by soul fire,” Briar concluded.

  “More than once.”

  “Why am I not surprised,” Grayson muttered, looking amused.

  Briar glanced between the two men. “Grayson’s right. You are the Scourge equivalent of a drake. Like I’m a soul singer. Kind of.”

  Perseus offered his wry smile. She was beginning to realize that was his way of agreeing.

  “That’s why he was so willing to give you his oath,” Grayson said.

  “We did that to protect him from Lucrezia.”

  “True, but he would have given you his oath on his own eventually. He believes you are his match.”

  Perseus lifted his hands, palms out. “In a purely platonic way.”

  “Obviously,” Grayson answered cheerfully. “Otherwise, I’d be testing just how immortal he truly is.”

  Perseus chuckled at the comment, seeming to take no offense at the threat.

  Men. Briar rolled her eyes.

  “But in answer to your other question,” Perseus said, sobering. “A construct cannot be made from a human, but it can be created from some Scourge and all ferra.”

  “What?” Grayson stared at him. “I was told those were fairy tales.”

  “They’re not. A construct made from the Scourge is a mindless thing that is impossible for its creator to control. But one made from a ferra is a true horror.”

  “You’ve seen it,” Briar concluded.

  His gaze met hers, and the knowledge in his eyes once again chilled her. “I was sent to kill it.”

  A light thump echoed through the boat, startling Briar. “The aqueduct. I need to tell the crew.”

  “They were in the cargo hold,” Perseus said. “I’ll let them know.”

  “Thank you.” Briar watched him leave the cabin, then turned to Grayson. “A conversation with him is always…”

  “Yeah.” Grayson didn’t seem to need more.

  “Not that I think he’s lying, but…” Again, she didn’t know how to finish that. “You have heard of such things?”

  “I have, but as we’ve discussed, I spent most of my formative years outside the ferromancer world. I can’t validate or disprove any of that.”

  She nodded. “Well, I’m going to stick with what I know—like getting a canal boat through an aqueduct and a couple of locks.”

  “I can help. It isn’t what I know, but I am getting much more knowledgeable on the topic.”

  She grinned. “Well, come impress me with that knowledge.”

  “Yes, Captain.” He followed her up the ladder, and they stepped out onto the aft deck. They were already in the flume of the Walhonding Aqueduct, Benji driving the mules at a brisk pace along the wooden towpath that ran along the side. Zach and Jimmy were already up on the catwalk, moving toward the bow.

  With everything as it should be, Briar stepped down to the tiller deck and took a seat beside Molly on the rail. Grayson joined them, though he remained standing.

  “Looks like you have everything well in hand,” she said to Eli. “Not that I expected anything less.”

  “It’s not my first aqueduct,” Eli answered.

  “What was that like?” Molly asked him.

  “The first time I steered my cousin’s boat, I scraped the wall hard enough to knock off two of the rub rails and put a hole in the boat so big that it almost sank before we finished the crossing.”

  “I’m sure Briar is glad that you’ve improved so dramatically,” Molly said.

  “Well, I was twelve at the time, so I’ve had a few years to work on my skills.”

  Molly laughed and Briar grinned, trying to imagine a twelve-year-old Eli steering his cousin’s boat into an aqueduct’s walls.

  “Did you—” Briar didn’t get to finish her question as a loud crack carried back to them. She had a moment’s confusion as to the source of the sound, but then the mule
s began to bray, accompanied by Benji’s shout.

  Grayson sprang up onto the aft deck and Briar followed him.

  On the wooden towpath ahead of them, Bramble, the rear mule, was struggling to maintain his footing as several boards had broken or come loose beneath his rear hooves. Big Red, the lead mule, tried to lunge forward, further upsetting Bramble’s balance, and he tore out more boards as he fought to maintain his footing.

  Benji must have been walking directly behind Bramble. Ben had managed to catch the towline, but now hung suspended over the hole. Between his weight, the animal’s struggles, and the boat drifting closer, the line was going slack, dropping Benji through the opening.

  Grayson leapt from the boat to the towpath, running toward the struggling mules. Zach and Jimmy jumped from the bow deck to follow him.

  “Eli,” Briar called back at him. “Steer us toward port and show me some of those wall-bumping skills.”

  They couldn’t stop the boat, but they could slow it.

  Eli turned the tiller, and the boat swung to the left, then glanced off the wall. It was a soft blow designed to slow them while avoiding a repeat of Eli’s first outing as a steersman.

  The boat slowed, but not enough. Benji vanished through the hole, though the taut movements of the towline made it clear that he still clung to it. Benji could swim, but the twenty-foot drop to the river wasn’t something Briar wanted to chance. And if Bramble fell through after him…

  Grayson had almost reached the hole in the towpath. Briar wasn’t sure what he could do, but she watched him leap up onto the guardrail that bordered the far side.

  Zach and Jimmy stopped short of the hole, neither trying to follow him on the rail.

  Grayson hardly slowed as he ran along the narrow rail. Once past the hole, he jumped down to the towpath and reached for Big Red’s bridle. Bramble’s frantic struggles and vocalizations had Big Red worked up, and he kicked out a foreleg at Grayson.

  Briar gasped, but Grayson must have seen it coming, because he sidestepped the kick.

  He immediately closed with Big Red’s head, and gripping his bridle, urged him forward. The mule balked, but soon saw the wisdom of continuing along the towpath. His steady forward motion helped pull Bramble along, and he managed to return all four feet to the deck of the towpath.