by Eric Vall
My eyes opened wide.
It was impossible, I was almost sure of it, but I’d suddenly sensed my revolver, although its presence hadn’t come from the jungle.
It seemed to be buried deep in my chest, and it felt as warm and familiar as the smooth handle always did in my palm. Easing into the sensation again came as easily as cinching my hand to pull the trigger, and the taste of metal sparked on my tongue just as another shot cracked through the jungle.
I jumped about a foot and dove to the ground.
My pulse thrummed wildly, and I ignored the maggots under my hands as I tried to make any sense of it. It couldn’t possibly be me pulling the trigger, but with a fresh burst of sulfur in my nose, I was becoming less certain of that.
Finally, I took a steadying breath and closed my eyes. This time, the moment I was fully present in the peculiar sensation, I knew before it even happened that I would pull the trigger.
The gun fired, and a greedy grin spread across my face as I jumped to my feet and ran toward the sound. I slid over bits of brain and through bloodied ferns as I barreled ahead, and I leaned into the sensation to fire the gun again. This time, the shot was so close I thought I caught the streak of a bullet flying past, and when I pulled the fronds aside, I found a stack of dead soldiers.
One of them was smoking from a gaping hole in his back, and I strained to flip the giant body over.
Then I jumped back and gagged.
I could see the handle of the revolver, but it was slicked with mucusy innards and knotted deep in the gut of the corpse like it’d been twisted there. I grimaced and summoned my magic to my palms now that the revolver was partially exposed, and with a deep slurping sound, the gun was finally freed.
It reeked like rotted intestines, but it was definitely my revolver, and that’s all that mattered.
I let out a heavy sigh of relief and headed for the river with the gun drifting ahead of me, and when I got to the bank, I carefully disassembled the weapon and cleaned it.
Once everything was gleaming and mostly smelled okay, I put everything back in the proper place.Then I furrowed my brow as I considered the revolver nestled in my grip.
The feeling of the ivory handle and the weight of the gun in my palm was oddly reminiscent of the familiar sensation I’d experienced in my chest when the gun had fired, and I wondered if I’d developed some sort of connection with the makeup of the revolver over time. I couldn’t even count how many times I’d pulled the trigger since I’d first formed the weapon, but somehow, I’d suddenly fired the gun without even holding onto it this time.
By the look of the dead bird in the jungle, I’d apparently managed to aim true as well.
So, I reloaded the cylinder before I placed it down on the ground and stepped back a few paces.
It was easier to follow the taste on my tongue to the presence of the revolver, and as I zeroed in on the connection, the gun abruptly fired.
It spun wildly across the dirt in response, so the next time, I focused on holding the metal in its place with my powers. With the second shot, it stayed where I left it, but it didn’t fire toward anything in particular, and I smirked as I adjusted my focus once more.
This time, I cast my sights toward the jungle and found a corpse about twenty feet away. The soldier had landed on his side, so his back was fully exposed to me, and I kept my eyes glued to the point directly between the broad shoulder blades. Then the taste of metal seeped across my tongue, and with a final nudge and a burst of sulfur, the gun fired.
I couldn’t help but laugh as the back of the corpse jolted, and the bullet was buried straight through the point I’d been looking at.
“Holy shit,” I chuckled as I scratched at the back of my head.
I went through the same steps with three more dead elves, but I made sure not to physically shift the gun at all when I adjusted my focus to the next target. The revolver remained exactly as it was until the moment I cinched the trigger, and the aim realigned itself each and every time so it could hit what I was looking at.
Even if I wasn’t holding on to the revolver.
I was still chuckling when I retrieved the gun from the dirt, and I admired it for a long moment before I finally stowed it nice and snug in the holster on my hip.
Then I returned to the Mustang, and as I dropped into the driver’s seat, I grinned at the little metal man lounging on the steering wheel.
“You’re not gonna believe this,” I told him, and Bobbie roared to life with a deep growl.
Chapter 2
I was just coming to a stop at the edge of the cliff when I caught sight of Dragir heading up the path from the cove. Based on the set of his jaw and his scowl, I had a feeling he didn’t get the scrolls from Qiran yet, but it was honestly hard to tell with Dragir. Decades of warring with his rune had left its mark, so anger and contentment sort of blended right into the same expression most of the time.
When he turned, I could study the cast of his serpentine eyes more easily, and I decided he might actually be in rampage mode.
Either that or he was hungry.
“How’s it going?” I called out as I closed the driver’s door behind me.
Dragir shrugged, and I realized his hands were clenched into tight fists.
“You heading to the village?” I asked cautiously.
“That would be unwise,” the elf muttered in a low voice. “I am going for a walk so I do not kill my father today.”
I raised my brows and decided to open the trunk.
The plethora of weapons I’d harvested seemed to at least intrigue Dragir, and he furrowed his brow as he picked through the pile a bit.
“It’s kind of ironic you like weapons,” I pointed out. “Aren’t you technically more dangerous without them?”
I thought it’d ease the tension, but Dragir slowly turned a glare my direction, and I cleared my throat before I began unloading everything into the grass.
“What is that on your shirt?” the elf asked.
I glanced down. “Maggot juice? Although, it could be intestinal. I’m not really sure. That patch is just dirt, I think.”
Dragir smirked and lifted a tungsten axe from the trunk. “Weaponry is in my blood,” he said while he tested the edge of the blade with his thumb. “The rune came later, but I prefer to kill things more naturally. It’s as the gods intended.”
I nodded. “Well, I left you a pile about as big as this one near the path at House Quyn,” I told him. “There’s some armor you can melt and recast as well, and a few Halcyan blades that were left in the jungle.”
“Really?” the elf asked. “I have been hoping to gain enough material to give my guards metal armor. It is difficult to come by much in the south.”
“You should be set now,” I assured him as I finished unloading the last of the metal I’d stolen from House Aelin. “It’s a good idea considering the way those soldiers fought.”
I left the bike’s skeleton inside and resealed the trunk, and then I propped myself back on my elbows and considered Dragir more closely.
He was still studying the large axe, and his fist was in a white knuckled grip around the hilt.
“Qiran’s still being difficult?” I guessed.
Dragir snorted before he hurled the hefty axe into the trunk of a tree about twelve feet away. “He is being impossible,” the elf growled and pulled another axe from the pile. “He believes it is an atrocity to let a human keep the scrolls of the ancients, and he has convinced himself the gods meant for him to have them all along. He has apparently been chosen.”
Another axe split a tree with a low thunk, and I sighed as I rubbed some of the sweat from the back of my neck.
“The gods … ” I mumbled. “I’m pretty sure I was the one who handed them to him, but okay.”
“Yes, and perhaps you should not have done so,” Dragir grunted and hurled another axe.
I chuckled. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
The elf took a deep breath and pau
sed beside the pile of weapons. “It was a good idea,” he replied. “Now, it is a problem. The scrolls are of little use to anyone if he hoards them like this, and the way he is raving … I wouldn’t be surprised if he destroyed them just to keep anyone from touching them.”
“Let me talk to him,” I offered. “I can be pretty persuasive. Or irritating. Both have served me very well in the past.”
Dragir cocked a brow, and I reached for an axe.
“If I cannot kill my father, you cannot either,” he warned.
I shrugged and threw the axe, and it spiraled handle over blade to bury itself in a stout log. “Then I won’t kill him,” I agreed with a grin. “I’ll just hold him prisoner until he cracks. I give it ten minutes.”
“There are no dungeons in the caves,” Dragir assured me, and he pulled two axes at once. “And do not fool yourself. My father is spineless and ridiculous, but he is also stubborn to a fault. He would let anything be destroyed if he thought it was meant to be. Just look at Deya.”
I raised my brows as both axes sailed through the air, and their hefty blades snapped the trunk of the tree on impact. There was a low creak, and Dragir and I watched in silence as the tree slowly tipped and crashed into the jungle.
The elf sighed and turned toward the pile again.
I stepped up. “You know what you need?”
Dragir furrowed his brow, and I shifted my gaze to the Mustang.
“It’s called a joy ride,” I informed him, “and it was invented for moments like this.”
“In that thing?”
“Don’t break it,” I ordered and unsealed the driver’s door. “If it starts rocking, you’re probably fine, but try not to flip it. You know how to use a channeling gem, right?”
Dragir nodded and carefully took a seat behind the steering wheel.
Then he jolted and shot back out. “What the hell is that?” he demanded.
“Stan,” I said with a grin. “He’s not included with the car, though. Isn’t that right, buddy?”
Stan was dangling upside down from the steering wheel, and he sent the elf a little wave before he did a backflip and landed on the black velvet.
I gave the little metal man a high five, and then he climbed up my arm and took a seat on my shoulder.
Dragir kept his eyes on Stan as he slowly approached the Mustang, and once he was settled with the door resealed, I gave the hood a good pat.
Bobbie let out a low growl, and the sound was sweeter than honey in my ears.
“There she is … ” I sighed. “Now, the Mustang can handle most terrain, but it’d be great if you could look out for boulders. Other than that, just relax and have fun. Trust me, you need it.”
Dragir’s face was a stone-cold mask, but the elf eventually nodded and placed his hands on the steering wheel.
“This is to change direction?” he asked.
I nodded. “It’s supposed to have pedals down there on the floor, too. One for stopping and one for driving, but I didn’t really figure that part out yet. Deya stole a book of runes for me, though. I might take a look and see if I can find anything that could help with that. Something for velocity, I guess … I don’t know. Does it work if I just carve it on anything? Like a piece of metal?”
Dragir sighed again. “You should not have a book filled with runes you know nothing about using properly,” he muttered.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’ll let you show me how it’s done. Good thinking.”
Before he could respond, I headed for my stockpile and let Bobbie know it was time to go.
The Mustang revved, and I chuckled as Dragir’s hands shot to the steering wheel just in time to avoid the cliff.
Once Bobbie and the elf disappeared into the jungle, I summoned my magic to lift the hoard of weapons and began my trek down the path to the cove.
The tidal pools that dotted the slate of rock stretching from the mouth of Nemris’ cave were full from the last tide, and I stepped carefully to avoid trampling any of the little creatures that swam in small circles inside of them. My favorite were the green guys who looked almost exactly like chia pets, but with tiny pink fangs. They had slender tails like a mouse, and on the end was a bright pink stinger Deya said could paralyze an entire sea dragon if provoked.
They were kind of cute, honestly. I stood and watched one of them lazily roll onto his back on the surface of his pool, and when he yawned, the sun glistened on the hundreds of little pink fangs.
“Sleepy guy,” I chuckled, and I had to remind myself not to try and pet one.
The black eels were easy to avoid, but surprisingly safe to be around. They had highlighter yellow eyes and were only as big as my forefinger, so they looked more like sea worms. Apparently, they were harmless, but as I watched one eat his way through one of the green guys, I decided this was to be determined later.
Most of the other inhabitants of the tidal pools were species of miniature fish I’d never seen before in my life, but there were a few bright red urchins here and there, and even a couple jellyfish as big as a thumbnail.
“Do not pet them,” Deya warned once again, and I looked up to see the beautiful elf pulling herself up onto the edge of the rocks.
Her white silk blouse was completely see-through when it was soaked, and as my eyes darted to the buds of her pale pink nipples, the weapons suspended beside me suddenly dropped.
I caught them before they could crush the cute little green guys, and Deya let out a silvery giggle while she wrung the sea water from her hair.
“Do not kill them, either,” she chided.
I had a lopsided grin on my face as I sent the pile of weapons to the mouth of the cave, and then I made my way over to help the beautiful elf dry off a bit.
“Missed a spot,” I murmured and trailed my tongue along her slender neck to catch a drop of water.
Deya giggled again, but then she suddenly pulled back.
“What is on your shirt?” she asked, and she wrinkled her nose as Shoshanne giggled close by.
I glanced toward the water to find my three beautiful women lazily swimming circles around the cove, and the treacherous waves of the early morning seemed to have died down. They came over and perched their elbows on the rock, and I was pleased to see Aurora’s silk tunic was just as revealing when wet.
The half-elf winked. “Looks like you had fun.”
“It was a little messy up there.”
Deya settled her hands on her hips. “Take it off,” she ordered.
“Yes, you definitely should,” Shoshanne purred.
I raised my brows and did as I was told, and Stan made a beeline for Cayla as my shirt dropped to the rocks.
“Where’s Qiran?” I asked.
“Well, Dragir stormed off not long ago,” Deya said as she sauntered closer, “so I would imagine my father will try to make his escape any moment.”
The beautiful elf teased me with a light bite on my bottom lip, and I locked my arms around her waist to pull her flush against me.
“That’s inconvenient,” I sighed before I slid my tongue between her plush lips.
Deya melted against me and wove her fingers around my neck as she kissed me more hungrily, and beside us, my other three lovers giggled and suggested I take off more of my clothes.
“You first,” I replied.
Cayla was more than willing to meet the challenge, but Aurora suddenly looked toward the cave, and the fun was brought to a screeching halt.
“He’s heading through the halls,” the half-elf warned.
Deya quickly stepped a few paces back, and I groaned as I eyed her perked nipples. It was torture knowing the beautiful elf was ready and wanting me, but I had to keep my eyes and hands to myself at every turn.
I scruffed my hair to get my blood flowing northward once more and decided to head to the cave before my willpower gave out completely.
“I’m gonna have a word with Qiran,” I told the women and sent them an apologetic smile.
Aurora w
ished me luck, but Deya sent me a mischievous smile and slid the silk on her breasts aside for me.
My pulse kicked up a notch, and I quickly checked over my shoulder to be sure Qiran hadn’t arrived yet.
When I turned back around, Deya had my revolver in hand.
The women burst out laughing, and I ground my jaw.
“Fucking troublemaker,” I muttered as I returned to snatch the gun from the elf’s hand.
Deya giggled. “Guess you found it.”
“Yep,” I replied. “Buried between the intestinal tract and the liver, but I got her back.”
Deya crinkled her nose in disgust, and I sent her a wink.
Then I brushed my thumb across her exposed nipple. “Serves you right, you little thief.”
Deya sent me an innocent smile and shifted the silk back in place before she dove into the sea to join the women for their swim.
I sighed and decided she was almost definitely going to get me killed within the week.
Qiran was just emerging from the hidden fortress when I rounded the stone pillar at the entrance, and I caught him by his elbow as his eyes locked on me.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already,” I said in a low voice. “I just got back.”
Qiran glowered as I turned him around and escorted him back into the dim cave.
On first entering the place, only the ornate pillars outside might give a clue to what lay inside. The mouth was much like any other, with boulders littered here and there, and an uneven, rocky ceiling. The floor of the cave was worn sleek in one area after thousands of years of foot treads, and following the subtle trail led to a small break in the furthest, darkest corner.
I pushed Qiran ahead of me to enter the passageway, and he let out an irritated sigh as he continued onward.
It was impossible to see anything for quite a ways, but eventually the glow of daylight shone ahead, and we came out into the real entrance of the hidden fortress. I suspected rune magic had been involved in the making of it, because the cliff had been hollowed out so the ceiling vaulted nearly sixty feet above our heads. The rocks were worn smooth all the way around, and the southern face of the cavern was dotted with small windows that illuminated the whole place. Over a dozen humble arches lined the wall, and although I’d only traveled down a couple of them so far, I assumed they each led to various chambers for the inhabitants of the place.
