Duty Bound (Agents of the Crown Book 3)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “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.”

  “You’re an awful woman,” Cutter declared as she lifted the bottle to his mouth again. “Don’t know why Jev wants to have relations with you.”

  Zenia almost dumped the liquid into his beard. “What?”

  “I told him he ought to make you something. Like a spice rack. That’s how you let a female know you care.”

  “A spice rack?” Rhi sounded puzzled. She was no more a chef than Zenia.

  “We’re not having relations.” Zenia reminded herself that Cutter had been missing for days, so Jev might not have had a chance to share the news of their one and only date. “Drink.”

  “’Course not. He hasn’t made you anything.”

  Cutter sneered, but he let her dump another “chug” in his mouth.

  “How’d you get stuck out here, Cutter?” Zenia was glad he was speaking now and not simply moaning in pain. His wounds would need the attention of a healer, but at least she had stopped the bleeding. It had been clear he hadn’t been stabbed that long ago. “And is Master Grindmor with you?”

  “She was.” Cutter slumped back in Rhi’s arms, issuing another distressed moan. This one had more to do with emotional pain than physical, Zenia sensed. “We’ve been together the last two—three days? What day is it? We’ve been trying to bust out of that log prison. Got an axe one time and mowed down a few of those toad-kissing trolls. Thought we’d get out, but which way is out in this damn swamp? We ran but couldn’t figure it out before we got caught again. Underground, I can find my way through any maze of tunnels, but out here, all the trees look the same. Don’t know why the elves love the damn forest so much.”

  “How were you separated?” Zenia asked, trying to keep him focused. Once the painkiller kicked in, if it hadn’t already, he would get loopy. “Is she still in the cabin?”

  “Nah, they took her in the other boat.” Cutter waved toward the pool and presumably the river at the other end. “To the city. Something about some ship coming in that they had to get there for. A dwarf ship, I think. They never confided to us, but the trolls had to speak in your language when that sniveling Braksnoth was around. I heard some plans about the invasion. And about them killing her.” He snarled and straightened, trying to push himself to his feet, but he gasped and grabbed his abdomen, almost pitching over.

  It took Zenia and Rhi to keep him from toppling onto his side on the pebbles.

  “Easy,” Zenia said. “As soon as Jev and Lornysh find us, we’ll get back to the city and stop whatever the trolls are doing. Is Tildar—Braksnoth—leading them?”

  “They aim to use the master to get on the ship,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her question. “Some scheme to get rid of all the dwarves at once. They’re going to kill a whole bunch of us! Just to piss off Preskabroto, make sure my people don’t align with yours again.”

  Zenia nodded. “I know. The king does too.” Except Targyon wouldn’t know anything about this attack—or whatever the trolls meant to launch—on the dwarven ship. Nobody in town knew. “We’ll stop it,” she assured Cutter, hoping it was the truth.

  “Will Jev and Lornysh be able to find us?” Rhi whispered. “Once they’re done?”

  Zenia hesitated. They hadn’t left a note or so much as an arrow made from twigs pointing in the right direction.

  “Lornysh can find anyone,” Cutter muttered. He’d settled down, gripping his stomach and chest again, the pain forcing him to stay still. “By your dragon tear if not by sign.”

  “Good.” Normally, Zenia would have been disturbed, knowing someone could track her, but tonight, she wanted Jev and Lornysh to finish up and find them as quickly as possible. Though a part of her wondered if she and Rhi should jump into the rowboat and take Cutter downriver to find a healer and warn the city right away. How far out was that dwarven ship? How much time did they have?

  “How did you two get kidnapped?” Rhi asked. “A bunch of trolls didn’t come into the city in the middle of the night and find you in bed together, did they?”

  “Bed? Me? With the legendary Master Arkura Grindmor?”

  “I guess he hasn’t made her a spice rack yet,” Rhi told Zenia.

  Cutter shook his head. “You don’t proposition a female like her. I just want to become her apprentice. I’d do anything to earn that honor. I swore I’d find her tools, but I was afraid I was just disappointing her. I even tried to pay one of those criminal guilds for information. But nothing came of it except them taking my money. Worthless bastards. Then we got a note that said someone who knew where the tools were hidden would meet us out by that bridge over the river. I figured it for a trap or trick of some kind, but what could I do? I had to get the tools for her. I’d promised I would. What I didn’t count on was her insisting on coming out to get them herself. She said she didn’t need my help. But I stood up to her and went anyway. I wanted to protect her if there was a trap.” Cutter’s shoulders slumped. “But I wasn’t expecting forty trolls to be hiding under the bridge. Who would have? We downed plenty of them, but there were too many.”

  Forty? Zenia grimaced at the notion of so many. Just how many were part of this scouting party? And how many were in tents ready to jump into battle with Jev and Lornysh?

  “They dragged us back to a log cabin over yonder,” Cutter said in a subdued tone. “Tied us up. They’ve barely been feeding us or giving us water. The tools were there, but we couldn’t get to them. Not that they would have helped. They’re tools, not weapons. Then tonight, some troll ran in saying it was time, and they dragged us off again. I fought like a gryphon when we got here. There were only twelve of them, you see, so I thought we might have a chance. Might get free and make sure the master wasn’t used against our own people.”

  “What exactly are they planning?” Zenia asked. “You said they mean to use her?”

  “Nothing good. They’re going to use her to get on board, then attack everyone.”

  “I thought there were five hundred dwarves coming on that ship,” Zenia said. “Would twelve trolls be enough to harm them?”

  “They had some boxes with them. Black powder or maybe worse. I sensed magic about them.”

  Zenia groaned.

  “Should we row back to town now?” Rhi asked. “And warn the king?”

  Zenia returned the first-aid items to her kit. She’d been thinking the same thing, but was it truly a good idea to split up? Maybe she could somehow tell Jev that they’d found Cutter and that Grindmor had been taken so there was no reason to fight the troll scouts in the swamp, at least not tonight. She had no doubt the king would send men out to deal with them as soon as he learned about the incursion.

  “Let me see if I can communicate with Jev.” Zenia wrapped her hand around her dragon tear and let her head droop.

  “Can it do that?” Rhi asked.

  “I’m about to find out.”

  But as she concentrated, imagining Jev’s face in her mind and trying to le
t the dragon tear know what she wanted, shots rang out.

  She spun in the direction they’d come from. The encampment.

  “That’s them.” Rhi let go of Cutter and stood, grabbing her bo from the pebbles. “We have to help.”

  “Cutter, stay here,” Zenia said. “We’ll get them and come back for you.”

  “By the fiery forges of Mount Iksonoth, I’m not staying anywhere.” Cutter gasped in pain but managed to stand on his own this time. “Where’s my hook? Those mule-humpers ripped it off and threw it somewhere.” He stomped along the shoreline. “I heard it hit the rocks.”

  Zenia wanted to sprint off and leave him—didn’t want him to move at all, not with those injuries—but she cursed and silently urged the dragon tear to glow brighter. It flared with blue light, driving back all the shadows on the shoreline. Startled animals squawked and fled into the trees and bushes, the branches rattling.

  The dragon tear’s blue light glinted off something on the other side of the dock. As Zenia sprinted over, more shots fired in the distance. Was that Jev shooting? Or the trolls? Or both?

  She snatched up the hook and the metal and leather assembly that affixed it to the stump on Cutter’s arm. “Here.”

  She raced over and gave it to him. Rhi, who’d been looking in the other direction, ran toward the gunfire as soon as Cutter had it.

  “You’re a good female,” Cutter said, pointing a finger at her. “I’m going to help Jev make you something.”

  “I’d be honored.” A part of her wanted to go slowly and help Cutter, especially when she saw how pained his gait was, but she could do more to help Jev and Lornysh than Rhi could. If she had to, she would implore the dragon tear to burn a horde of trolls, the same way it had crocodiles.

  As she sprinted after Rhi, Zenia sensed a hint of pleased glee from the gem.

  17

  Jev crouched in front of the log cabin, his short sword dripping blood. He fired between the eyes of a troll charging toward him, one of several. He only had a couple of bullets left, but he didn’t care. He would use the sword again if he had to. That was how he and Lornysh had started this. They’d killed close to a dozen enemies before one screamed a warning that alerted the rest of them.

  Since then, it had been chaos, and there was no longer a point to striving for quiet.

  Six or seven trolls lay dead in front of the cabin around Jev and Lornysh. They were using the log structure to block access to their backs. Unfortunately, that left their sides and fronts open for the trolls.

  As Jev fired again, careful to make each shot count, Lornysh battled two more a few feet away. His flaming blade burned away the darkness of the night as it slashed, clanging against the axes and swords the trolls wielded. But they had firearms, too, and Jev spotted one aiming at Lornysh, not caring that its buddies were in the way.

  Jev fired first, his bullet slamming into the troll’s hand. It struck true, and the troll cried out, dropping his weapon. But it wasn’t a debilitating enough blow. Snarling, the troll spun toward Jev, yanked out a hatchet, and hurled it.

  Jev saw the weapon coming and ducked and rolled to the side. A resonating thud came from above as the axe slammed into the cabin’s plank door.

  As Jev sprang to his feet, three trolls charged toward him. He fired, but he’d lost track of a bullet somewhere, and the chamber clicked empty. Jev backed up to the log wall, hefting his sword as he jammed the pistol back into its holster. The lanky trolls had long arms, longer than his, and he wished he had a blade with greater reach.

  They rushed him at once. Jev jumped to the side, trying to put one troll between him and the other two. He glimpsed the still quivering hatchet shaft out of the corner of his eye and snatched it as he parried a blow from a heavy machete. He darted in close, stabbing swiftly and repeatedly before springing back out again. He tried to stay out of the trolls’ reach and also distract them with his blade work. When the one directly in front of him was busy swatting at his sword, Jev threw the hatchet. It thudded into the troll’s chest, and he pitched against one of his buddies.

  That one would not be distracted for long, but Jev took advantage, hurling a chain of attacks at the lone troll that faced him, at least for the moment. His enemy wielded the machete like a master sword dancer, and Jev’s stomach sank when every one of his attacks met steel, the blades ringing in the night as they clashed again and again. But he imagined his family, all his nieces and nephews in danger as trolls stormed Dharrow Castle, and that gave him extra strength, extra energy, and extra speed.

  Jev sprang at the troll, slashing high, drawing his attention upward, then kicking him in the knee. He connected solidly enough for cartilage to crunch. For an instant, the troll dropped his defenses, and Jev lunged in. He slammed the point of his sword into his foe’s heart, bone crunching along the way.

  The other troll had pushed aside his fallen comrade and leaped in from the side before Jev could yank his sword free. He let go of it as an axe swept toward his head. Ducking, he flung himself backward as the troll’s weapon sank into the cabin wall.

  Jev lunged to his feet, terror pushing aside his rage. He had no weapons left. What now? If they gave him time, he could reload his pistol, but—

  The troll freed his axe from the log it had stuck in, hefted it over his head, and charged at Jev.

  Jev readied himself to block as well as he could with nothing but feet and fists. Then orange light flared like the noon sun. The troll stumbled, glancing to the side.

  At first, Jev thought Lornysh had brightened his sword, but Zenia’s voice rang out.

  “Back up!”

  Not hesitating, Jev scrambled backward. Flames erupted from the mud in front of the cabin. They engulfed the troll, then spread toward four more that had been rushing in to join the fray. Screams pierced the night as fire burned flesh and muscle and bone.

  Jev turned away from the brilliance of the light—and the burning trolls as they fell to the ground, screaming and writhing in pain.

  Zenia ran to Jev’s side as the flames went out, leaving charred corpses behind, just as had happened with the crocodiles. She hugged him fiercely, not seeming to care that he was covered with blood. At least most of it belonged to his enemies. He’d taken a few cuts but nothing that would slow him down. He returned Zenia’s hug, but metal clashed nearby as Lornysh continued to fight, and he spotted Rhi using her bo on a troll with an axe.

  Jev kissed Zenia’s temple and let her go. He plunged his fingers into his ammo pouch so he could reload his pistol.

  “Didn’t we tell you to stay by that log?” he joked, glancing at her to make sure she hadn’t been wounded.

  “You thought we would obey you? You being a mere zyndar, and us being a former monk and inquisitor blessed by the Water Order?”

  “It crossed my mind.” Jev fired at one of the two trolls trying to bring Lornysh down, trusting his friend wouldn’t mind if the fight ended early.

  Rhi had knocked her troll to the ground and was pummeling him impressively with her bo. When he tried to rise, she kicked him in the face with the strength of a dragon baller sending one of the scaled orbs a hundred yards down the field.

  “Remind me not to make that woman angry,” Jev said. “Or you either.” He glanced at the dragon tear glowing a fierce blue on Zenia’s chest.

  “You haven’t managed yet.” Zenia smiled, though she was looking him up and down with concern. She must have noticed some of his cuts.

  “Are you sure? I was fairly positive I irked you when you were trying to arrest me and I was evading your attempts.”

  “No, I like a challenge.”

  “Where are my trolls, you boulder-cracking fungus lickers?” came a familiar booming voice from the shadows.

  “He’s talking to you, Zenia,” Rhi announced.

  “The painkiller is working remarkably well,” Zenia said.

  “Cutter!” Jev cried after a stunned moment. He peered around until he picked out his friend’s stout form limping toward t
hem.

  “I even liberated a kindling trimmer to use on them.” Cutter shook a two-headed axe as long as he was tall.

  “Cutter!” Lornysh yelled. He sprang over the fallen trolls at his feet and ran toward Cutter.

  “That’s why we left the log,” Zenia said.

  “An excellent reason.” Jev squeezed her around the shoulders, then hurried over to check on Cutter. He looked like he should be in a hospital, not waving giant axes about.

  Lornysh gripped Cutter by the shoulders but paused, as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to hug him or shake him. “Where have you been, you young fool?”

  “Young?” Cutter protested. “I had my fiftieth birthday during this mess. My captors refused to let me celebrate properly by bringing me a rock pastry.”

  “Fifty. Hah, you’re a child.”

  “A child in need of a rock pastry.”

  “Is it hard to stick candles in a rock pastry?” Jev patted Cutter on the back carefully, not wanting to hurt him further, as he imagined pastries made from boulders and drizzled with frosting.

  “Candles?” Cutter asked. “What silly tradition is that? You could burn your birthday treat into ashes, much like your girlfriend did those trolls.”

  Jev gave Zenia an apologetic wave, not wanting to argue with Cutter about what she was to him, not then. But Zenia was barely paying attention. She’d opened the door to the log cabin and was peeking inside.

  Jev had no idea what was in there. He and Lornysh had only been using the wall to protect their backs. At one point, he’d thought about diving inside so the trolls could only come at him one at a time, but they hadn’t given him an opportunity. Fortunately, Zenia had shown up at a timely moment. When he’d first met her, he never would have imagined her as someone who would end up saving—or at least seriously assisting—him in battle.