Cyril turned to Ben. “Untie your brother,” he said.
“Hey, why didn’t you kill this one?” Hound asked, rolling Ben’s man onto his back with a boot.
Ben looked up from cutting Frank’s bindings and shrugged.
“Did you think we were going to make nice with them?” Hound said. “Can’t very well kill him now and that just complicates things.” He rolled the man onto his stomach with his foot, causing him to scream again. Then he knelt down and tied the man’s hands behind his back while he writhed in pain.
Frank was in and out of consciousness from the beating he’d taken, so Ben carried him to a pallet and gently laid him down while he prepared his bedroll.
Cyril tied Enzo to a chair, turning him away from Frank, then did what he could to magically speed his grandson’s healing.
“He’ll be out for a while,” he said. “Time to get some answers.”
He circled Enzo, who sat silently, fear shining in his eyes.
“Where’s the child?” Cyril asked.
“In the nursery,” Enzo said quickly, as if he was happy to have a question he could answer so easily.
“Can you get in?”
“Maybe,” Enzo said, “but they aren’t going to let me in without a good reason. Unless—”
Cyril waited, looking at him very deliberately before nodding.
“If I brought Imogen with me, that would be an explanation that the priest would believe.”
“You scheming little rat,” Imogen said, drawing her sword and leveling it at him. “I’ll never trust you with anything ever again.”
Cyril gently laid a finger on her blade, lowering it.
He turned to Enzo again. “What are their plans for the child?” he asked.
“Last I heard, they were going to take him to Denver,” Enzo said.
“Denver?!” Imogen said. “Why?”
“I don’t know, something about his lineage,” Enzo said. “They said he was special.”
Cyril sat down heavily in the chair opposite Enzo.
“I was afraid of something like that.” He sighed, looking up at Imogen helplessly. “The priest knows that your son is my grandson.”
Her eyes went wide and glassy, she dropped her sword, her hand came to her mouth while she shook her head back and forth, her eyes never leaving Cyril’s, pleading with him to make reality something other than it was.
He shook his head sadly, going to her, but she shoved him away and walked off, one hand over her mouth, the other on her stomach as she struggled to control her sobbing. Cyril let his hands fall to his sides, closing his eyes while tears ran down his face.
“It’ll be all right, Baby,” Enzo said, “we can have another kid.”
Cyril spun, leaping at him and drawing back to hit him with all his might … but he stopped when Enzo flinched away from the impending blow. He backed off and composed himself.
John quietly followed Imogen.
“So how are we going to get inside?” Hound asked.
“The door on the back wall, in the bad part of town, not too far from here,” Cyril said.
“All of us?”
Cyril winced, shaking his head.
“I’d leave Frank and Imogen here,” Hound said. “He needs time to heal and she’s too close to this.”
“Think you can get her to stay here?” Ben asked, looking across the warehouse at Imogen, sitting with her back against a wall and her knees drawn up against her chest. John sat nearby, but not too close.
“Probably not,” Cyril said.
“I’m telling you, it’ll all be easier if you get her to go in with me,” Enzo said.
Hound leaned into him, letting his face go slack and his eyes go dead. “You don’t need to talk unless we tell you to talk.” Hound nodded until Enzo started nodding in agreement.
Hound stood back up and looked at Cyril. “We still have two out front. Fortunately, they probably expected to hear some screaming from Frank.”
“See if John will help you with them,” Cyril said.
Hound nodded somberly, running a cloth over the tomahawk blade even though it was already entirely clean before heading off toward John and Imogen.
She returned, somewhat more composed. “How can you be sure?” she asked. “How does the priest know he’s your grandson?”
“Dragons have a thing with blood,” Cyril said. “The wyrm has tasted mine. His priests will know.”
“Are you sure?”
Cyril took her into his arms and nodded. “I’m sure.” He waited until she had finished crying, before holding her out at arm’s length.
“Be thankful,” he said. “If it was any other baby, the priests would have sacrificed him by now.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“Oh God, how can that be?”
“Babies have a lot of life energy,” Cyril said. “There’s power there.”
“Oh God,” Imogen whispered.
“When the dragon arrives, he won’t come alone,” Cyril said. “A high priest will be with him. If we wait too long, the baby will probably be out of our reach. Time is limited.”
Chapter 32
Hound eased the front door open and John loosed an arrow. A man grunted and then gurgled when he tried to wail. The other said “Huh?” as Hound rushed out onto the porch and threw the tomahawk—one soft thud preceded a heavy thud. They carried Enzo’s guards into the building one at time, barring the door after they’d finished.
When they returned to the other end of the warehouse, Cyril said, “We have a few hours of daylight left. We should use that time to plan so we can go in at dark.”
“Chesapeake? No,” Hound said, holding up the bloody tomahawk.
“What?” Cyril said.
“I got two kills with this baby today,” Hound said. “That’s a sign. She needs a name.”
Cyril opened his mouth, then closed it, tilting his head to the side for a moment.
“Uh … Francine? No, definitely not, I went with a Francine once. She was crazy. It was a lot of fun while it lasted, but it didn’t end well. No matter … I’ll come up with something. You were saying?”
“We need a plan,” Cyril said. “I want to go in just after dusk.”
He spent a few minutes detailing his strategy, using recorded video from his drone reconnaissance to lay out the entry, the path through the inner city to the temple, and the access to the nursery. He provided probable points of resistance, doors that would need to be picked or forced, guard locations and patrol routes.
Once again, Ben found that he was impressed with his grandfather. His hours of watching had yielded a sound plan with a high probability of success.
After Cyril had finished, Imogen said, “I’m not staying here.”
“Come, let’s talk about this,” Cyril said, motioning for her to walk with him.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, going with him nonetheless.
“What do you think we’re going to do with this one?” Hound asked Ben, motioning to Enzo with his head.
“Hard to say. I’ve never seen my grandfather so angry.”
“Me neither,” Hound said. “Of course, if he had something interesting to say …”
“I don’t know anything,” Enzo said, pleadingly.
“Of course you do, you just don’t know what it is yet,” Hound said. “For example, how many guards watch over the nursery?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, is there a back way in or out of the inner city?”
Enzo hesitated.
Hound slapped him hard on the side of the head, laughing and pulling the chair close so he could look him in the eye.
“See, you do know something useful,” he said.
“Did you have to hit me?”
“No, but I wanted to,” Hound said.
“I know how you feel,” John said.
“Me, too,” Ben said, slapping him on the shoulder from behind, causing him to flinch and then shrink in on himself.<
br />
“About that back way in,” Hound said, leaning toward him with a humorless grin.
Enzo winced. “They’ll kill me.”
“Who?” Hound said.
“The …” he said, stopping and shaking his head firmly. “I’ll tell you where it is, but not who owns it.”
“All right, we’ll start with where,” Hound said.
Enzo sat back, taking a deep breath and visibly relaxing.
“There’s a bakery—”
“Bullshit!” Hound shouted, coming to his feet, launching forward at Enzo—fury, rage and wrath all bundled into the expression on his face and the bulging vein on the side of his head.
Enzo’s eyes grew wide and his face went white. “I swear …”
Hound sat back down as quickly and fluidly as he’d lunged at Enzo, all of his anger and aggression gone in an instant. Enzo was trembling.
“So tell me about this bakery.”
Enzo nodded quickly, gulping a breath before beginning. “It’s in the block bordering the inner wall. There’s a tunnel that goes under the wall to another bakery inside.”
“Can you show me on a map?”
“Yes,” Enzo said.
“Good,” Hound said, looking at Ben.
“I don’t have a map.”
“Maybe Cyril can help after he’s done smoothing Imogen,” Hound said.
“Probably—” Ben said, holding his tongue when there was a knock at the door—three loud, deliberately spaced clangs.
He looked to Hound, who had already unslung Bertha and was moving toward the door. Cyril had his pistol out and was moving to a get a different angle on the door. John was moving toward Imogen while watching the door and nocking an arrow.
Ben suddenly realized that he was standing in the middle of the warehouse watching everyone else prepare for battle. He rushed forward, drawing his revolver, sighting down the wall toward the entrance.
Cyril nodded to Hound.
He approached the door carefully, pushing it open with Bertha. “Come in, quickly,” he said, “hands open … where I can see them.”
A woman entered. She was in her late twenties, had shoulder-length dirty-blond hair and hard facial features. She was fit—moving with a sinewy, almost catlike grace, as if balance and poise were just innately part of her.
John slipped out of the shadows and closed the door behind her, stepping back to be ready with his bow if necessary. Hound stood ten feet away with Bertha pointed at her chest.
“Start talking.”
“I’m looking for a friend of Thomas Sinclair,” she said.
“Hold,” Cyril said, raising his hand. “Lower your weapons.” He approached to within five steps of her and stopped. “He was my friend, once.”
“He still is, I think,” she said. “My name is Kathryn, but my friends call me Kat. We have transport ready for you.”
Cyril chuckled to himself. “Efficient … and greatly appreciated, but we’re not ready to go yet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“We have business in Rogue City,” Cyril said. “Perhaps it would be best to arrange a rendezvous.”
“No chance,” she said. “You were a bitch to track down. This guy, Enzo, was our only lead. If you hadn’t gotten together with him, we’d still be sitting in the dark.”
“Fair enough,” Cyril said. “I hope to have our last errand wrapped up by dawn. Would you like to wait here? My daughter and my injured grandson will be staying as well.”
“That might be acceptable,” Kat said.
“Ah … so you have a commander in the shadows.”
“Of course,” she said. “Would you expect otherwise, given my employer?”
“Fair enough,” Cyril said. “If all goes well, we’ll be on our way at dusk. If your friends would like to come in or stay out, that’s their choice—though I would prefer to remain undetected.”
“Understood,” she said, deliberately scanning the room and its occupants. “Your business is serious, I think,” her eyes landing on Enzo, tied to a chair.
“Yes, very much so,” Cyril said.
“Perhaps I should go get my friends,” Kat said. “With your permission.”
Cyril took a long breath, held it for a moment and let it out all at once, nodding.
She bowed her head to him respectfully and left at a full stride, stopping at the door for a moment to look both ways before slipping out of the warehouse.
“What the hell just happened?” Hound asked.
“I sent for help,” Cyril said. “It just arrived.”
“Help from who?”
“The Dragon Slayer,” Cyril said. “She works for him.”
Silence fell on the room for a moment. Then there was another knock at the door.
Hound answered it with Bertha in hand but lowered, a frown capable of stopping a charging bull on his face as he motioned for Kat and her two friends to enter. He closed the door behind them after a wary look this way and that.
“Annabelle and Adam Cook,” Kat said.
“I’m Cyril Smith. This is my daughter, Imogen … my grandson, Benjamin … Rufus Hound … John Durt. My grandson Frank is recovering from injuries over there in the corner.”
Annabelle, tall and thin, blond and fair, green-eyed and freckled, stepped up to Cyril with supreme confidence and bowed her head, almost as if in homage.
“Please, call me Belle. My father speaks fondly of you. Kat tells me you have business to attend to before you’re willing to leave.”
“Yes, my infant grandson is being held hostage in the keep and I plan to rescue him.”
She stepped back, smiled incredulously and shook her head. “You have got to be kidding.”
“Not at all. Worse, the dragon will be here tomorrow.”
“What!”
“His priest was killed. Birds went out.”
“And you’re still here? Are you mad?”
“Perhaps,” Cyril said. “I am forever grateful to your father for sending you, but I can’t ask you to mount an assault with me. Please, just give me a location where we can meet for transportation. If all goes well, we’ll be ready to leave by dawn.”
“If not?”
“There’s always that,” Cyril said. “Do you have siblings?”
“What’s that have to do with anything?” Belle snapped.
“Your father was always a family man. I just hope he has lots of children.”
“Oh … sorry,” Belle said. “I’m a bit overprotective of my sisters.”
“Two?”
She nodded.
“Good,” Cyril said. “He deserves to have a big family.”
“Can we get back to what the hell you’re planning?” Belle said.
“When the sun goes down, four of us are going to sneak into the temple and kidnap my grandson,” Cyril said.
“You say that like it’s an afternoon stroll,” Belle said.
“I have a plan,” Cyril said. “Just stay here and be patient.”
“No, I’m coming with you,” she said.
“No, you’re not,” both Adam and Kat said in unison.
“We got lucky finding them,” Belle said. “We’re not losing them now.”
“You’re not going on an assault against a wyrm fortress,” Adam said.
“I’ll go,” Kat said. “Sounds like fun. You two stay here with their people. We’ll go kick some wyrm ass and be back by morning.”
“Kat, this is about more than that,” Belle said.
“No, it’s not,” Kat said. “You should probably be ready to run when we get back.”
“You’re such a bitch,” Belle said with a half smile.
“You two are making me hot,” Hound said, smiling at both of them shamelessly.
“Married,” Annabelle said, holding up her wedding band and pointing at Adam.
Hound nodded at Adam like he respected him for marrying a woman as attractive as Annabelle.
Adam took a step closer to his wife.
John stood very still, looking at her like she’d grown a horn out of her forehead and he was hoping that she might just go away. She laughed, turning back to the group.
Imogen frowned.
“Don’t we have work to do?” Kat said.
“Wow … bossy,” Hound said. “Maybe I dodged a bullet.”
“You might have to, if you keep that up,” she said.
Cyril stepped into the circle of people, drawing their attention and commanding their silence with his.
After a moment, he said, “This is deadly business … I plan on killing a number of the wyrm’s people in the process of this raid. Successful or not, we will provoke the dragon.” He turned to Annabelle. “Again, your father is gracious to have sent you, and again, I can’t ask you or your friends to go into battle with me.”
Kat held up her hand to forestall Annabelle’s response, who shook her head with a humorless grin.
“First, I hate the dragon, maybe even more than you do, so the chance to kill some of his people and perhaps even light his house on fire sounds good to me. Second, you are my mission—I was assigned the task of returning you safely to my employer. It’s pretty obvious that we’re not going to talk you out of this, so someone has to go along and make sure you stay alive. That’s me.”
“If you insist,” he said, “but you will follow my orders.”
“Agreed,” Kat said.
“Will you wait here?” Cyril asked Belle and Adam.
“We should go with you,” Belle said.
“No, having too many people is a liability,” Cyril said. “I need the two of you to stay here. Will you?”
“Yes, but we’re coming for you if you’re not back by dawn.”
“If we’re not back by dawn, you should run.”
“He’s right,” Kat said.
“You’re being overprotective,” Belle said.
“That’s what your father pays me for.”
Chapter 33
Ben took a moment to check on Frank. He was unconscious and his face was bruised and swollen, but he was breathing steadily. That was good enough for now. He went to Cyril and found John, Rufus, and Kat with him. They were watching Cyril’s screen while he went over the plan for getting inside yet again.
The Dragon's Egg (Dragonfall Book 1) Page 31
