Victor grunted. “We’ll look around for a shop that can sell us the metal we need to make more.” He straightened his vest and jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”
Sweat dripped down Ben’s back and ran down his face by the time they reached the sturdy adobe-and-wood restaurant. Victor patted a crimson kerchief against his forehead and gestured toward the cloth-draped doorway with his cane.
“After you.”
Ben stepped into the dim room, and a light breeze of cool air washed over him. He sighed in relief. A smiling young lady greeted them, her flowing dress a brilliant shade of green that contrasted with her purple neck scarf.
“Can I help you?” she chirped.
“Yes.” Ben paused and looked to Victor. “We’re meeting with Mister…”
“Nathaniel.” Victor inclined his head to the hostess. “Is Mister Nathaniel here yet, ma’am?”
Her eyes lit with recognition, and she shook her head. “No, sir. But I can take you to his usual corner table, if you’d like.
Victor rewarded her with a winning smile. “Yes, thank you.”
She led Ben and Victor through the restaurant, her stride matching the rhythm that a young man drummed out from the corner. Each table had a vibrant tablecloth covering it, and a glass lamp filled with oil in the center. No gas lamps in sight, nor the luminary crystal lamps of Doldra.
The hostess led them to a table against the back wall, next to a door marked “staff only.” She twirled to face them and bowed with a small flourish. “Mister Nathaniel favors his back to the wall, and I’m sure he’ll be here soon, if he’s expecting you.”
Victor tipped his hat with a wink. “I’m sure he will. Thank you, miss.”
Ben swallowed his chuckle at the blush that rose to the lady’s cheeks. She turned away with a flustered smile, and Victor nodded to the table.
“I’m claiming the wall. He can deal with disappointment.” Victor sat in the chair closest to the staff door, leaned his cane against the wall, and raised a black eyebrow at Ben. “Are you going to stand there until he arrives?”
“No.” Ben pulled out the chair next to Victor and plopped into it, automatically half-turning to let his gaze roam over the few patrons of the restaurant. Everyone seemed focused on their own table and group, chattering amongst themselves, ignorant of whatever dealings happened around them. “I’m just wondering if Ezekial is going to be willing to give us what intel he has if we took his favorite spot.”
“Intel?” Victor gave him an odd look. “He’ll give us what information he has, whether we tick him off or not. He works for Aerugo, and he’s being paid for what he learns. He won’t risk the entire mission just because he’s steamed.” Victor drummed his tan fingers on the linen tablecloth and smirked. “Besides, if he wanted to sit somewhere particular, he should have gotten here first.”
Ben snorted. “Right.”
They waited in companionable silence after a waitress came by for their drink order. Victor glanced over. “How’s training with Zak going?”
“Well enough, I suppose.” Ben stared at his hands and flexed them. “I’m good with the steam-pistol, decent with a staff, and, in Zak’s words, ‘atrocious’ with the grappling hook.”
Victor removed his white top hat and set it on his cane and rubbed his hand across his head with a small grunt. “Knowing how to use a grappling hook is an important skill for a skyfarer. He’s probably told you before, but if we need to get off an airship in an emergency, while it’s still in the air, that glove is our best bet for escaping alive. You need to learn how to use it, and how to do so with skill.”
Ben smiled his thanks as their waitress delivered his water and Victor’s fizzing blue drink. “I know. It’s something I need to work on.”
He meant every word, too. Zak had explained, several times, the importance of being able to safely disembark in case of emergency. He’d had interesting examples of emergency, too—ship fire, skyfaring pirates, Jade’s wrath. Whatever the reason, Ben wanted to master the skill. Dying on an airship from some random mishap because he didn’t learn the safety procedures wasn’t what he had in mind for his future.
“I’m pretty handy with the grappling hook,” Victor said finally. “I can give you a few pointers when we get back, see if we can get you up to speed.”
“Thanks.”
“Mmhmm.”
Ben picked up his glass and rotated the cup, letting the water get as close to the rim as possible without spilling any. “Hey Victor, what’s a Void Born?”
He could feel Victor’s curious stare without even looking up at him.
“A Void Born is what everyone in these lands fears,” Victor said finally. “In the north, Elph used the blood of Void Born to create the blood-bond that allows them to control the humans that live with them.” He took a long sip of his drink, his lip curling up at the corner as he savored the flavor. “Rumor has it that Void Born aren’t able to be touched by Void magic, and possibly a few other types, but I haven’t ever heard of those being confirmed. Most people are too freaked out by the fact that Void Born don’t have the same spark of life as everyone else here does.”
“Spark of life?” Ben echoed. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Victor shrugged. “That’s just what you always hear when people talk about Void Born. They’re like walking dead, without the spark that allows them to manipulate the magic or elements. Who wouldn’t fear people who aren’t really alive? And if their blood can create the blood-bond, well,” Victor looked away with a small smirk, “what else can they do?”
Ben absorbed Victor’s words in silence. So he’d told Raine that his friend was a Void Born, essentially someone without magic or life or something. Maybe she didn’t like zombies? What about that upset her so much?
A dark-skinned man approached them, his shaved head gleaming in the steady light of the surrounding tables. His eyes narrowed at Victor and Ben, and he stroked his goatee as he stood before them, a large, menacing show of muscle. His black eyes flicked from Ben to Victor and back.
Victor spoke first. “For the sake of our people.”
“And for the safety of our families,” Ezekial replied. His tense shoulders relaxed infinitesimally. He studied Ben for a long moment. His eyes tightened and he looked back to Victor. “You just had to take the wall.”
Victor shrugged. “You want the wall, you come sooner.”
Ezekial grimaced at him and muttered, “Bleeding Void Born,” as he pulled out a wood chair and sat on the edge of it stiffly. He nodded when the waitress delivered his drink moments after he sat.
“Been here often?” Victor asked wryly.
“A few times.” Ezekial smirked as he pulled the mug of frothy liquid closer. “I’ll keep this short. I have somewhere to be.”
Ben leaned forward, setting his elbow on the table. “You won’t be going with us?”
“No.” Ezekial didn’t look away from Victor. “I have a lead that just opened up after years of digging. I’m not letting it pass by.” He took a long sip and wiped foam from the stubble over his top lip. “What I need to tell you is simple. The bandits had a leadership change recently, and I don’t know this new guy. I’d set up the meeting with Lupin, their former leader. The exchange is still set to happen, but this new leader may not have the same goodwill that Lupin had. You need to be extra cautious—more so than before.”
Victor nodded, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “When is the scheduled meeting?”
Ezekial swirled his mug before setting it on the table. “Tomorrow evening.” He tugged a folded paper from a pocket inside his jacket and slid it over the deep purple cloth to Victor. “Coordinates and time. You’ll need to hike for part of the way,” he warned. “These guys either know a back way to fly their airship in, or they’re paranoid. They want to meet up in the hills, past the shepherding communities.”
“Thank you.” Victor picked up the paper and opened it before re-folding it and slipping it into his own jacket pocke
t. He steepled his fingers and looked over to Ben. “If that’s all you have, we’ll be on our way.”
A vein in Ezekial’s forehead throbbed, and a frown tugged at his lips. “I know I’ve already said it, but I’ll say it again: be careful. I didn’t trust Lupin, and I know even less of this new leader. Don’t get cocky going in. Whatever relics they can sell you is great, but don’t forget your own safety.”
Ben nodded when Victor didn’t say anything. “We will, thank you.”
“Oh.” Ezekial lifted a finger off the table and pursed his lips. “Rumor has it they have a warrior with a demon’s strength. A berserker with blond hair and a crimson sword. Stay away from him.”
Victor nodded his thanks and stood, gathering his hat and walking stick. Ben followed, mind churning. Ezekial’s description sounded familiar somehow; if only Ben could place it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ben
The setting sun streaked the sky with gold and brilliant fire-orange clouds, providing more than enough light for them to get to the destined meeting site in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Thin air filled Ben’s lungs and left him wanting more as he trekked through the green wilderness and the scattered shrubbery. A quick glance ahead showed Slate comparing his compass to Ezekial’s coordinates.
One of Everett’s guards—Captain Trevor—sneezed, and Ben shot the man a sympathetic grin. Having wool allergies while walking through the sheep-inhabited countryside had to be pure torture. Still, Trevor marched on, eyes narrowed on the trail they followed. They’d landed the Sapphire half an hour ago and left the airship in the care of Garnet and the other non-combatants. Since then, the group Slate led had passed a flock of sheep and their goggled, glow-eyed shepherds leading them home for the night. If the magic stones hadn’t been enough, the strange technology further cemented Ben’s belief that he wasn’t from here.
And who knew? Maybe they’d find something for the keystone and barrier, and maybe even some sort of clue or potion that could help Ben with his memory. He shuddered. As long as the potion didn’t include desiccated lizards. Still not sure if I’m that desperate.
Ben studied Slate’s tense shoulders and ran his gloved fingers on the staff Zak had insisted he carry in addition to the steam-pistol that hung on his hip. The captain had been fairly talkative while they were preparing to go, and he’d shared how the crew had had many such meetups over the years—each with its own perils and uncertainties. But something about this one had Slate’s nerves on edge, and he wanted every crew member armed with multiple weapons, “just to be safe.” What good Ben would be with the staff, he didn’t know, but they wanted him to come along, so he’d do his best to help and not hinder the cause. I think I trust the gun more. Ben frowned. No one else called it a gun, and yet that was the word that came to mind.
Is this something from…before? Smooth glass curved under his free hand, and he shook his head. Maybe it’s similar to something I’ve handled before.
The captain wasn’t the only one on the ship who was out of sorts. Ben’s meetings with Jaxton had been more scattered of late, as the doctor had been unusually preoccupied ever since Victor and Ben gave their report.
Up to now, Jaxton Taylor had carried himself with an unflappable air and dry humor. But when Ben last saw him, the doctor had been muttering and agitated the whole time they were preparing to go. Finally, the white-coated man had emerged from his med-room with two glass spheres. Yellow fumes swirling in one, blue mist in the other. Jaxton explained that he’d heard some unpleasant things about the new leader, Kadar, and his pet berserker. And because of his concern, Jaxton created something new for their mission: a paralyzing agent. He’d warned that once the two globes were smashed together, everyone who didn’t want to be affected would have to move away from the resulting toxic cloud to avoid the numbing effect.
Victor volunteered to be the one to carry the orbs, and thus it was his job to find the berserker and, at best, incapacitate him—if he could. If the warrior proved stronger than the doctor’s creation, Victor would eliminate the threat—permanently.
Ben blew out a breath and looked at Zak in his peripheral vision. The swordsman marched after Slate, his eyes dark and mouth set in a grim line. While none in the crew wanted any killing to happen, Slate made it clear back at the Sapphire that the bandits had a reputation, and Slate valued the lives of his crew and Everett’s men over those of the others. They were to do whatever they needed to insure their health while on this mission.
“We’re almost there,” Slate announced.
Ben slowed to match Slate’s steps. Anticipation skittered along Ben’s nerves, and he shook out one hand, then the other.
The captain perched a hand on his hip while he gestured. “I’ll meet them with Trevor as planned. Victor, I want you free to roam and find their berserker. Kerlee, you take our purchases and get them back to the Sapphire. I want everyone else loosely spread out in pairs. Be prepared for anything.” Slate ran his thumb over the edge of his belt and lifted his eyebrows. “Geist. Keep an ear out for any double-crossing or back-stabbing.”
Geist lifted a clenched fist and pounded it against his chest, his eyes gleaming. “Yes, sir.”
“Everyone know what they’re doing?” Slate’s eyes roved over Ben, and he nodded along with the rest of the men. Slate turned back to the path and gripped the pommel of his sword. “Good. Let’s go.”
Although the staff didn’t give Ben any confidence, he remained loose-limbed and alert as he entered the bandit camp. Smoke rolled lazily across the ground from three small campfires, and the scent of cooking meat wafted in the air. The bandits watched them enter, their eyes glittering in the firelight.
Slate swaggered forward and stopped in front of a man who scowled at them from a campfire in the center of the bandit camp.
The bandit leader stood with all the relaxed calmness of a cat who’d been sunbathing, and glared up at Slate. “Did you bring the money?” he demanded, hands on his hips by the two hilts hanging from his belt.
Slate raised his eyebrows and mirrored the leader’s posture. “And you are?”
“Kadar,” the man spat. “The leader and one you should be indefinitely grateful to be talking to.”
“Really? I’d think it’d be the other way around.” Slate replied casually as Trevor turned his head in an obvious scan of the tense bandits.
Ben had already finished his initial reconnaissance. All the men were armed. Geist and Kerlee stepped closer to Victor, all three resting their hands casually on their sword hilts. Slate exchanged glances with Trevor, then looked back at Kadar and crossed his arms. “Seeing as how we’re here to make a deal with you, and we’re giving you our good money, I think we should see the merchandise first.”
Ben slid his left hand down the shaft of the staff, tense. Kadar sneered and waved his hand, and Slate took a half step back at the same pace as Trevor. Trevor’s sword rang clear of its scabbard as Ben gripped the staff with both hands.
Kadar laughed, an ugly sound. “Jumpy, aren’t ya?”
Ben breathed through the brief jitter cause by the adrenaline pumping through his blood and waited as a young man—a boy, really—knelt before the trio and opened a chest. He tilted it, allowing Ben and the rest of the Sapphire crew to see two scrolls, two stones, a crystal, and what looked like a black ring.
“You’ve seen our goods. Let’s see yours.”
Slate gestured, and Trevor moved forward, his eyes not leaving Kadar as he knelt by the boy and opened the mouth of the bag. Blue and black stones glittered in the dying sunlight’s rays, and Kadar’s eyes glinted. Ben silently slid his foot to the right, widening his stance.
Kadar nodded appreciatively and lifted his hands to his men. “See, boys, this is what I’m talking about. Clearly, these are worth quite a bit, and Lupin was going to practically give these relics away.”
Slate’s voice sounded tight. “Deal?”
Kadar dropped his arms and raised his eyes from the money bag with
a grin. “No deal. I’m keeping these relics. And the lut, of course.”
A heartbeat of silence passed, and then men all around exploded into action.
Ben whirled and smacked a nearby bandit on the head, dropping the man before he could draw his sword. Clanging metal and yells echoed eerily in the hills as chaos abounded.
Zak appeared on Ben’s left and slashed. A man that had just come into Ben’s peripheral fell. Kerlee slid to his knees and tossed the lut bag into the chest. He slammed the lid shut. A wild-bearded bandit raised a sword behind Slate. He’s too far away! Ben dropped his staff, yanking the steam-pistol from his belt. He cranked the lever, aimed, and shot. A hiss of steam whirled over his gloved hand. The bandit dropped.
Ben whipped his head around, seeking another foe as he fumbled to reload. Zak backed up next to him, bloodied sword held at the ready.
“I’ll cover you,” Zak shouted over the clamor. “Keep shooting!”
Ben dropped a bullet in the chamber and nodded. Zak fought off an attacker and sank a dagger in his opponent’s side. The man gurgled and fell. Ben shot a bandit fighting Ash.
Victor sprinted past Ben.
Trevor had moved away, fighting Kadar and a second man by himself. Ben turned, seeking the next target in the lull immediately by him. He swore when he saw why. The bandits had banded up against several of Everett’s men, leaving three bodies in the blood-churned mud. A blond ponytailed man stalked after another, his scarlet blade dripping crimson fluid. Ben aimed.
“Watch yourself!”
Something jostled Ben, and he pulled his finger off the trigger. Slate stumbled away from Ben, his cheek bleeding. Zak’s blade crashed against Kadar’s, turning a killing strike away from Slate at the last moment. The metal sliced down Kadar’s arm, ripping through sinew and muscle until it shattered a metal bracelet. Zak stalked after the leader as he fell.
Ben turned back to the ponytailed man. The blond berserker slumped on the ground, clamping his head with bloody hands. Glowing yellow and blue gases swirled and mixed into a sickly green. Victor watched, upwind, sword in hand, dark eyes burning with a visible hatred. Jaxton’s potion worked. Good.
Renegade Skyfarer Page 22
