Elven Fury (Agents of the Crown Book 4)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “They flooded this?” Father waved at the trickle of water below, the uprooted trees and bushes scattered everywhere, and mud slathered halfway up the valley walls.

  “With magic, yes.”

  “Magic.” Father spat. “I can’t believe that thing was under our castle for the founders know how long. You weren’t aware of it, were you?”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I remember you boys playing down in the dungeon.”

  “What boy doesn’t enjoy dangling from shackles that were once used to imprison people?” Jev smiled, though he didn’t know why he bothered making jokes with his father. The man had the sense of humor of a dyspeptic badger.

  Father grunted and frowned up and down the valley. “I’ll have to get a team out here. Might as well gather those logs and mill them.”

  Jev almost volunteered to handle that job, mostly because he didn’t want his father to stumble across the communication stone and decide to blow it up. Maybe that wouldn’t be the worst idea, since it had proven a disadvantage that day, but Jev liked to think that with Targyon on the throne, a more peaceful time would return. One day, elves might once again be welcome on Dharrow land.

  He clamped down on his offer to help with the logs. He had a quest to plan with Zenia. One day, Dharrow Castle and Dharrow land would have to be his priority, but that day had not yet come, despite his father’s willingness to suicidally fling himself into battle.

  “I need to return to the city tonight.” Jev thought about mentioning the dragon tear and Zenia’s quest, since it would take him overseas, but his father might accuse him of fleeing in order to avoid the marriage. He would have to let them know he wasn’t going to be in the kingdom on the arranged date, but maybe he would do it in a letter. Or leave a note with Wyleria.

  No, that was cowardly. He needed to tell his father his travel plans and that he wouldn’t marry Fremia. Not this summer. Not ever.

  He took a deep breath to explain the best he could, but his father spoke first.

  “I figured. Do you know if Zyndari Bludnor left our castle?”

  Jev hesitated, not wanting to speak of her at all. “The last I heard, she was lamenting the loss of her dragon tear. But I think you know more about that than I do.”

  He looked at the old man, curious about what had happened. Zenia had only said she’d spoken to him and that her dragon tear had broken the other one. She hadn’t mentioned what his father’s reaction had been, if any. It had sounded like chaos broke out right after that.

  His father grunted. “I guess she was using it on me. I should have realized that. It wasn’t like me to— I wouldn’t usually.” He glanced warily at Jev. “She’s married.”

  Jev couldn’t remember ever seeing his father embarrassed or uncomfortable. He was so busy being surprised by the broken sentences that it took him a moment to recover and speak.

  “Those with mind-manipulation dragon tears should always be regarded warily,” he said. “Most of them work for the watch or the king or the temples, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be tempted to use the power at their fingertips for their own gain.” He groped for a way to suggest Zyndari Bludnor had only set up the marriage for her own gain.

  “I hate magic. Any chance that Cham woman is doing the same thing to you?” The old man squinted at him.

  Jev resisted the urge to take offense and get hot. So far, this was more civil than most conversations he’d had with his father.

  “No. She had to turn in her inquisitor dragon tear to the temple when she left and switched to working for Targyon. The dragon tear she has now is for battling evil in the king’s name.” Technically, it could manipulate people’s minds, too, but Jev had seen Zenia use it far more often to battle enemies, so he didn’t feel that dishonest for emphasizing that ability.

  His father grunted again. “Like elves. I saw it blow up that magic thing.”

  “The portal?”

  “Whatever it was, it’s in a thousand pieces now.” The old man crossed his arms. He looked as pleased as he ever did, which was to say, he looked moderately un-surly.

  “That’s good,” Jev said. “It’s bad enough the shrews and cockroaches have free access to the castle. We don’t need elves showing up in the middle of the night.”

  “You got that right.”

  They fell silent. A seagull flew overhead, cawing on its way down to the coast to hunt.

  Jev took a deep breath. “About the marriage, Father—”

  “You don’t have to go through with it. I’ll tell Zyndari Bludnor it’s canceled. I wasn’t in my right mind when I agreed.” He grimaced. “Obviously.”

  Hope strolled into Jev’s chest and bounced up and down.

  “I wouldn’t want that woman around the castle. The girl’s pretty enough, but I reckon they both were just interested in getting their hands on Dharrow assets.”

  “I got that impression when Fremia asked about our mines and equipment,” Jev said, careful not to sound too elated. Dare he bring up Zenia again? Was it possible that the old man had changed his mind? He’d apparently seen Zenia blow up the portal, and they’d fought in battle together…

  “I want you to choose someone soon,” Father said, “since I’m not getting any younger, but you can pick who you want to marry.”

  Jev opened his mouth, his bouncing hopes on the verge of soaring up his throat and out into the sky to fly with the gulls.

  “But not Cham.” His father frowned sternly at him.

  Jev’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

  “Not a common woman. You find a nice zyndari girl. There are plenty out there.”

  “After what you saw today, you don’t think Zenia is worthy of becoming a Dharrow?”

  Father scowled. “She’s common. I don’t care what she’s done. That doesn’t change that her blood is inferior.”

  Jev closed his eyes, struggling not to let his disappointment in his father and in the situation show.

  “Just find a nice Zyndari woman. Let me have peace in my golden years and enjoy grandchildren without having my boy gossiped about all over the city.” Father’s frown grew even sterner. “Good night, Jev. Serve the king well.” He turned and headed toward the castle.

  Jev stared at the long shadows falling over the land, trying not to let his frustration out. He intended to marry Zenia, one way or another, but giving his father that ultimatum could wait. She wouldn’t be interested in planning a wedding until after she freed her dragon. Jev didn’t know how long that would take, but maybe it would give his father time to change his mind. At the least, Jev shouldn’t have to worry about another arranged marriage being thrust at him any time soon. That would have to be enough for now.

  As Zenia laid out clothes to pack, she decided with great reluctance that she needed to go shopping before she left. She’d thought she might raid the king’s kitchen and armory for rations, ammunitions, and travel gear, but her small wardrobe consisted mostly of dresses. She thought of her trek through the mangrove marsh and assumed such ladylike clothing would be a significant impediment in a wild orc-filled jungle. She needed boots and sturdy trousers and shirts. Something oiled to repel rain? Yes, that too. Definitely a shopping trip.

  “Tomorrow,” she muttered, glancing out the dark window in her room.

  Now that she knew her dragon-tear-linked dragon was in pain, she hated to delay, but she still had to arrange passage on a ship, so it was unrealistic to think she could leave tomorrow. She didn’t even know if she could find a ship that sailed directly from Kor to Izstara. The journey might require passage on multiple ships and take weeks. Months?

  She needed to ask Targyon for permission to go. She intended to go, regardless, but she would prefer to have his blessing, especially if this took as long as she feared it might.

  Would he save her job until she returned? Or would he give it to another? Targyon would need someone to fill that position in her absence, especially if Jev came with her. She hadn’t asked him to, and she knew she
shouldn’t assume he could leave, especially if that marriage was still looming, but she had a hard time imagining doing this without him. He, at least, had traveled out of the kingdom. Zyndar Garlok could likely step up to fill the captaincy position while they were gone, but would he be willing to give it back when they returned? For that matter, hadn’t Jev said something about punching him and firing him that morning?

  A knock sounded at her door.

  “Come in,” she called, hoping it was Jev. Or Rhi.

  Zenia wanted to ask Rhi to come with her. If anyone would enjoy thumping the enemy orcs that held the dragon prisoner, it would be her bo-wielding friend. Zenia wondered how orcs had even managed to capture a dragon. All the stories said they were incredibly powerful creatures. Had magic been involved? An injury? Was her dragon simply so young that she hadn’t come into her powers yet?

  The door opened, and Jev strolled in. He had changed clothes, shaved, and his hair was still damp from a bath. She remembered that she’d wanted to give him a massage and lamented that the idea had fled from her mind at the princess’s revelations.

  “I thought I might find you packing.” He smiled and spread a hand toward the clothing stacked on the bed.

  “I’m mostly realizing that few of the clothes I own are suitable for a jungle trek. I’m going to need to go shopping tomorrow. I better not spend much money though. I’m not sure how much passage to Izstara costs, but I imagine it’s not cheap. And I may need to hire a guide.” She tugged at her braid, daunted because the princess had only been able to narrow down the dragon’s location to the northern half of the continent. Zenia hoped the gem would be able to guide her once she was on Izstara soil.

  “I can pay for some of that.” Jev untied a heavy-looking purse on his belt, an item that wasn’t usually there. “I went to the bank and got some gold and silver coins. I doubt Korvese kron bills will impress orcs, but these will be valuable anywhere in the world.” He jangled the purse.

  Zenia frowned, wishing she’d thought of that. She had simply intended to take regular money. “I can’t ask you to pay for any of this, Jev. Thank you, but this is my quest.”

  “I don’t think that’s true. I owe your dragon tear my life a few times over now. And besides, Targyon gave it to you. If anything, it’s his quest.”

  “He doesn’t know about it.”

  “If he doesn’t yet, he will shortly. I stopped by his office as soon as I got back to the castle. He wasn’t there—he’s probably still trying to woo the princess—but I left him a note.”

  “Ah.” Zenia didn’t know if she appreciated Jev taking the initiative or not. It seemed they should make a formal request to take off for another country, not simply leave Targyon a letter stating that they intended to do so.

  “I also talked to my father before leaving.” Jev took her hand and drew her toward the edge of the bed, a spot without any clothing on it.

  “Oh?” She sat down next to him. “Has he decided I’m a delightful woman to fight elves with and that we should marry immediately?”

  “Not… exactly. I do think he appreciated that you blew up that portal.”

  “I was just holding the dragon tear that did that.” She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, enjoying the warmth of his gentle grip.

  “No need to explain that to him. Unfortunately, he’s still determined that I marry a zyndari woman, but he admitted—now that he’s not being mind-controlled by Bludnor—that he was manipulated into agreeing to Fremia and agreed to call off the wedding and let me choose.”

  “A suitable zyndari woman?”

  “That’s almost exactly how he put it. At least he’s giving me time. We’ll figure out—I mean, I haven’t asked you, so I guess I shouldn’t assume.” His brow creased as he gazed at her. “I know you don’t want to be a mistress, and I don’t want a mistress, but are you ready for—would you want—Zenia, do you want to marry me?”

  “Was that a proposal?” She smiled, touched by him stumbling over his words.

  “Uhm, not exactly. I would need to get a jade ring and an archmage to bless the union first. And there should be wine, good food, healed ribs.” He grimaced, touching his side and straightening his spine. “But it would be nice to know you would accept if I offered.”

  Zenia slid her arm around his back and rested a hand on his chest, wishing she knew how to thoroughly heal all his injuries. Her body ached too. Maybe they should both find qualified people to massage them.

  She shifted closer and kissed him gently. He returned it more eagerly than gently and wrapped his arms around her. Her thoughts drifted toward the memory of him half-naked and sparring in the gymnasium, and then of things they might do during the nights in a little tent together as they journeyed through the jungle… If they were engaged, even informally, then maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to enjoy blanket activities together.

  Another knock sounded at the door.

  Jev slowly broke the kiss. Zenia wasn’t sure she would have broken it if it had been up to her. Surely, Rhi could come back in the morning…

  “Was that a yes?” he wondered.

  “I would love to marry you, Jev Dharrow.”

  “Good. We’ll make it work then. One way or another.” He smiled, but his eyes seemed a little grim underneath the determination.

  She tried not to think about him walking away from his position as heir for her sake. But if he did, it would be his choice. She couldn’t imagine giving him up if he was offering himself to her.

  “Good,” she whispered and touched his cheek.

  A loud throat-clearing accompanied the second knock.

  “Kings are busy,” came a dry voice through the door, “and can’t stand in hallways waiting overlong for doors to be opened.”

  Jev snorted and strode to the door.

  Cheeks heating, Zenia smoothed her dress and tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ears.

  “Good evening, Sire,” Jev said, opening the door. “Nice of you to join us. Did you see my note? Or has the princess sailed off to Taziira and left you lonely and bereft, thus forcing you to seek us out for company?”

  The two bodyguards standing in the hall with Targyon were remarkable in their ability not to react to such comments.

  “Actually, she’s waiting for me in my dining hall where we’re going to have a last meal together before she sails back north.” Targyon smiled sadly and looked out the window. He held an envelope down by his side. Poetry for the princess?

  “Oh?” Jev asked. “So soon? I thought she would wait to make sure a new embassy is successfully built.”

  “That’s Lornysh’s duty now, much to my bemusement.”

  “He’s agreed to the position, then?”

  “He has. He told Yesleva it was only until she and her father could find someone more fitting for the position. I certainly don’t mind having an ally as the elven ambassador, but I think the idea of being committed to staying here where the Zsayon faction could easily find him again makes Lornysh nervous.”

  “Understandable. Let’s hope Vornzylar was the leader of those set against him and that few others are interested in going after him.”

  Targyon nodded. “We’ll see.” He looked from Jev to Zenia. “You two have my permission, of course, to go find this dragon. Though I imagine you would have gone, regardless.” He smiled.

  Zenia kept her mouth shut, not willing to confirm that.

  “I read your note, Jev,” Targyon said, “and spoke to Yesleva, but I’m confused about how a young imprisoned dragon came to be linked to an old dragon tear that had been in the royal vault for generations, if not centuries.” He cocked his head, regarding Zenia curiously.

  She spread her hands. “I don’t know anything more than the princess told me, Sire. I regret that I didn’t figure out earlier that she—the dragon—is in trouble.”

  “Maybe she’ll tell us how the link came to be,” Jev said. “When we find her. Can dragons speak?”

  “Some can
speak telepathically, the stories tell us. Though they rarely deign to interact with the lesser races. In recent centuries, they’ve found the world too populated and rarely come out of their hermitages.”

  “Hermitages?” Jev asked. “I thought dragons lived in caves.”

  “Yes, in a hermitly manner.” Targyon touched his forehead in a vague army salute and started to leave, but he looked down at the envelope and turned back. “I almost forgot. This came for you, Zenia.”

  As he held it up, a feeling of dread hollowed her stomach. Now that she could see the front, she recognized the stationery and the ink and handwriting. Captain Zenia Cham.

  “Another warning?” she murmured.

  Targyon’s eyebrows arched. Zenia hadn’t told him about her unseen and unheard ally of a sort, and Jev must not have either.

  “How did you get it, Sire?” Jev asked as Zenia accepted the envelope.

  “I was out with Lornysh, the princess, and my bodyguards, examining the ruins and arranging for the area to be cleared so construction could begin. When we were on our way back, an old blind woman stepped into the path of the entourage. My guards tried to shoo her away, but she had the look of one of those religious seers.” He shrugged. “I don’t like to irk the Orders or anyone who receives visions, real or imagined. It was a simple enough matter to go and talk to her, but all she requested was that I deliver this to my Crown Agent captain.”

  “Asking the king to be your messenger boy is audacious,” Jev said.

  Targyon spread his hands. “The religious Orders all think they’re above us secular types.”

  “Did blind seers deliver the other messages?” Jev asked as Zenia opened the envelope.

  “No. This is the first time anyone has seen who delivered one.” That feeling of dread returned as Zenia unfolded the single page inside. She wasn’t sure why. Before, the messages had all been helpful warnings. Maybe it was that they also always heralded trouble.