by Martha Carr
“Yeah.” She glanced up at him, then had to look away. “Saw something too.”
“And your promise?”
“I sure as hell made it.” And now there’s one more thing on my list of impossible magical fixes. “I need a minute to work this one out in my head.”
Maleshi approached them and clapped a hand on the halfling’s shoulder. “Well done, kid. If we gave out medals for this kinda thing, you’d have all of ‘em right now.”
Cheyenne shrugged away from the general’s hand and shook her head. “Where do I go to get a drink?”
“Pretty much anywhere in the city today.” Maleshi eyed her with a confused smile. “You okay?”
“I will be after a few tankards of grog.”
Corian chuckled and headed after the last of the ceremonies’ witnesses. “It’s about time we made that a priority.”
Maleshi gave Cheyenne a final once-over, then shrugged and hurried to catch up with him.
“Seriously, though.” Ember floated up behind Cheyenne and dipped her head. “You look like you saw a ghost or something.”
“I don’t know, Em. The ghosts of trees, maybe.”
The fae girl choked back a laugh. “What?”
“Nothing.” Cheyenne placed her hand gently on the Nimlothar again, but the tree didn’t have anything else to show her and didn’t respond. “I’ll probably be more coherent with a good buzz on.”
“Or at least less moody.” Ember bumped her shoulder against her friend’s and floated across the courtyard. “I bet Vedrosha’s packed right now. What do you think?”
“The fighting pits right after a new Crown steps up and a wedding by deathflame?” Cheyenne snorted and hurried to catch up with her Nós Aní, shoving her hands deep into her pockets again. “Sounds just like the kinda thing that happens around here.”
“I know, right?” Ember grinned. “So awesome.”
“Meh. Say that again when I’m spilling grog foam all over the place.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Chapter Eight
The party took to the streets of Hangivol like it had when Cheyenne placed her drow marandúr coin on the altar eleven days ago, only this time, L’zar Verdys wasn’t here to dampen the celebration with his presence. The O’gúleesh dancing and carousing through the glittering metallic labyrinth of the capital’s lower levels made that perfectly clear. There wasn’t a snarling, scowling face in sight, except for the magicals starting brawls outside storefronts, which lasted only as long as it took to get in a few good punches before barrels of grog and sealed bottles of fellwine and Bloodshine were cracked open and poured all around.
Ember stopped short as a skaxen woman leaped from behind a display table outside a produce shop. The magical shrieked and darted across Ember and Cheyenne’s path, blasting a sickly yellow burst of magic at an orc roaring with laughter. His laughter cut off abruptly beneath the skaxen’s attack, and he swept a meaty green arm against the rat-like skaxen’s shoulder to knock her backward before offering her a bottle of fellwine in return.
“This is even crazier than the last time,” Ember muttered.
Cheyenne stalked past her after the group of cheering, roaring magicals dressed in the ceremonial flowing cream-colored uniforms. “Even more of a reason this time to get crazy, right?”
“More of a reason?” The fae girl floated quickly forward to catch up with her friend. “What’s better than the long-lost drow heir returning to claim her birthright from the worst Crown this world’s ever had?”
“Half-drow, Em.”
Ember scoffed. “Yeah, like that even matters. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“What’s better?” Cheyenne shrugged. “Probably that L’zar isn’t here to screw it all up somehow.”
“You’re giving him way too much credit. You know that?”
“Maybe.” Cheyenne scanned the city streets filled with dancing, brawling, laughing, drinking O’gúleesh. Up ahead, Nu’ek roared something unintelligible and sent a scrawny goblin flying away from the myrein procession on their way to the fighting pits.
Persh’al laughed and raised a fist into the air, throwing up a burst of blue sparks. “No holding back today, brothers! Vedrosha calls to all of us!”
Cheers and stomping, metal-banging approval rose at the new Crown’s cry, and the procession picked up the pace toward the outskirts of the city and the newly re-opened fighting pits.
Cheyenne cocked her head. “Or maybe they’re happy not to follow a drow anymore.”
“A Crown of the people, huh?” Ember looked at a group of six floating metal orbs passing overhead, swooping low to follow the procession. “Whoa.”
“What?”
“Is this what you see with your activator?” Ember pointed at the orbs. “I can read everything those orbs are picking up. They’re like O’gúl GoPros built into drones.”
Cheyenne barked a laugh. “Yeah, I guess they are.”
Ember shot her friend a sidelong glance, her eyebrows flickering together. “But that’s not everything you see, is it?”
“Not everything, no.” The scrolling lines of code racing across the city streets and walls of every building and alley still flashed across Cheyenne’s vision in muted colors. And I’ll leave it that way for now. There’s way too much going on to try to pick apart the way this system works right now.
“What else, then?” Ember playfully slapped her friend’s shoulder with the back of a hand and laughed. “Go on, spit it out. I wanna see how much I can pick up on my own.”
“It’s a lot, Em.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying, but no one’s said why you’re better at all this tech stuff, other than playing with transport trains and taking your activator back with you across the Border.” Ember’s excited smile faded. “Shit. I can’t take mine with me, huh?”
“I mean, you could try.”
“Nope. Not gonna risk it. Hey, I wonder if Persh’al Tenishi the Ironbreak would do a fae a solid and hold onto it for me when we’re Earthside.”
Cheyenne leaned away from the roaring crowds gathering around the fighting pits as the procession stepped out onto the glistening metal grounds of Vedrosha. Her activator responded immediately with an option to turn down the background noise that was threatening to become the only noise, and she quickly accepted.
“You okay?”
“What? Yeah.” Cheyenne gave her friend a crooked smile. “Got a little loud, but I took care of it.”
Ember frowned. “Took care of it?”
The halfling tapped her pointed gray ear poking out from beneath her bone-white hair. “Turned down the volume.”
“For real?” The fae girl’s luminous eyes widened. “You can do that?”
“Yeah.” Apparently, that was not a basic activator feature.
“Holy shit.”
Cheyenne laughed. “That’s the thing that surprises you?”
“You know what? I’m sure it’s not the most impressive thing you can do with that little silver coil, but that’s about all I needed to hear.”
“An extra perk, I think. But hey. If Elarit made yours, I bet you’ll be cruising around and finding a bunch of new things you can do too.”
“Yeah, all while I have to listen to this noise at actual levels.” As if the celebrating O’gúleesh responded directly to Ember’s comment, the procession of myrein witnesses and the citizens of Hangivol gave another roaring cheer, stomping on the metal ground and shoving each other in excitement as Persh’al and Elarit stopped in front of the largest fighting pit. “I guess it’s worse for you, huh? Drow hearing and all.”
Cheyenne shrugged. “I can handle it.”
“Ironbreak!” Lumil shouted, thrusting a fist glowing with her spinning red runes in the air. “Into the pit!”
Byrd immediately took up the cry, and the magicals around them echoed the name of their new Crown. Elarit’s high, ringing laughter rose through the chanting, and Persh’al pushed up th
e sleeves of his flowing tunic. “Shall we, then?”
“With pleasure.”
Both trolls jumped down onto the sand covering the bottom of the pit, and the troll Crown’s loyal subjects went wild with primal excitement.
“Jesus.” Cheyenne shook her head. “I can’t stay here to watch this again.”
“Seriously?” Ember leaned forward, trying to peer through the crowded magicals in front of her to get a good look at the pit. “This is better than MMA and rugby combined.”
“Rugby?”
“Yeah. Like football without pads, kinda. Those guys get smashed.”
Cheyenne folded her arms. “Didn’t know you were a fan of watching fights, Em.”
“Please. I’m a fan of watching a little bit of everything, except for maybe the Hallmark channel. You know what? Never mind.” Ember pumped a fist in the air. “Ironbreak!”
Cheyenne scanned the pit grounds. Grog and fellwine had made its way out here by the crateload, and O’gúleesh gathered around the various stations to grab what they could before returning their attention to the fight between the newly myrein-wedded couple.
She was about to head toward the closest barrel of grog spouting sloshing amber liquid and spattering foam all over the open metal ground, but the activator lit up a brighter flash of yellow light in her vision. She followed the source of the new code and paused. More like an incoming message or a summons.
Scanning for the coded pathway, Cheyenne found the yellow light growing stronger toward the northern edge of the city and the multi-colored flames spewing into the sky.
“Hey.” She nudged Ember and nodded at the other side of the city. “I’m gonna go check that out.”
Grinning eagerly, Ember turned away from the excitement of the first pit fight under Persh’al’s rule and settled her gaze on the flames flickering along Hangivol’s outer wall. Her smile disappeared. “I know I don’t have to tell you what’s over there, Cheyenne.”
“Nope. Wanna come?”
“You want me to come with you to check out the Sorren Gán. At the fellfire pits.”
Cheyenne shrugged. “I mean, you don’t have to. I wanna see how the cleanup by magical feasting went.”
“You know what I think?” Ember blinked. “I think you’re a masochist.”
“I mean, you’re not wrong. It’s better than watching friends slit each other’s throats in the sand so they can burn each other with the deathflame and call it their duty.”
“Ha. Yeah.”
“Up to you, Em. I need a break from crowds and shouting.” Cheyenne nodded at her friend, then pushed her way toward the north end of Vedrosha and Hangivol’s outer wall.
Ember glanced longingly at the fighting pit, then back at her retreating friend and sighed. “Fine.”
“Cheyenne!” Lumil shouted, pointing at the halfling moving away from the pits. “You and me in the pit after this. I call first dibs.”
The halfling turned halfway around and raised an eyebrow at the grinning goblin woman. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“Aw, come on!”
“Get Byrd in there with you. Maybe you can finally work a few things out.”
Lumil’s smile morphed into a scowl of disappointment as Cheyenne disappeared into the crowd, Ember floating along quickly behind her.
“Fuck yeah, I’ll fight you.” Byrd punched her in the shoulder. “I’ll put veréle down on that pit right over there.”
“Man, you know I’ll rip you apart.”
“No way. Come on.” The goblin man raised both fists in preparation, bouncing back and forth. “I can take a hit.”
“Not when I’m trying.”
Behind them, Corian folded his arms and glanced down at the squabbling goblins. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
“Yeah, I bet you do.” Lumil waved him off.
“Then how about this? I’ll put veréle down on that pit for the two of you to jump down. Or one of you can fight me instead.”
The goblin woman’s eyes widened, and she exchanged surprised glances with Byrd before turning around to leer up at the nightstalker. “Putting your veréle where your furry mouth is, huh?”
“If it gets you to shut up longer than five minutes, absolutely.”
“You’re on, nightstalker.” Lumil punched Byrd in the gut, making him stagger sideways as he doubled over. “You hear that?”
He grunted. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Dumbest question you’ve ever asked. You and me, dumbass. Then the winner takes on Mr. High-and-Mighty over here, and we double the pot.”
Byrd rolled his eyes as Lumil and Corian shook firmly. The nightstalker’s silver eyes flashed, and he broke into a wide, feral grin. “Deal.”
Chapter Nine
Once Cheyenne and Ember reached the north end of Vedrosha’s open ground, which was teeming with bloodthirsty, intoxicated, fight-crazed O’gúleesh, the outer wall of the city was a lot easier to reach. They stopped at the high wall, and Ember wrinkled her nose. “Guess we went the wrong way, huh?”
“Nope.”
“But it’s solid.” The fae girl knocked on the wall and received a metallic clang in return. “Either we missed the way out, or it’s somewhere up there. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Cheyenne tried to wipe the smile off her lips and shook her head. “No reason.”
“That’s the same look you had when you handed me that illusion charm. What am I missing?”
The halfling scanned the code scrolling over the metal surface until she found the command to let them out. Her finger swiped quickly across the metal wall, and the tiny square segments composing every inch of Hangivol’s metal surfaces folded back and peeled away from each other. Five seconds later, an open doorway materialized, and Cheyenne gestured at it. “After you.”
“Damn.” Ember frowned at the doorway, then glanced quickly at her friend. “Activator?”
“It’s a safe bet to assume that anything I do over here is activator-related, Em. Unless it’s drow magic spewing out of my hands.”
Ember floated slowly through the thick metal wall and down the short tunnel to the walkway on the other side. “I don’t see anything in here.”
“No code on the walls?”
“I mean, there’s like a map of the city. Level names. Where we are right now. That’s about it.”
“Huh.” Cheyenne followed her friend out of the short tunnel and onto the walkway, which closed behind them on its own without her having to prompt it. “I guess that’s one more thing to stick on the list.”
“The list of all the things Cheyenne Summerlin can do better than everyone else? Didn’t know we were making a list.”
“I mean, you asked, Em.”
“Yeah, I know. How silly of me.”
They made their way north along the curving walkway outside the city wall toward leaping, hissing flames in every color. The Sorren Gán came into view long before they reached the fellfire pits, the blazing orange flames of its body sending up thick clouds of black smoke into the darkening sky.
“Damn.” Ember fell behind Cheyenne when she stopped to take in the sight. “That’s what you tried to fight in that cave?”
“Pretty much the only thing in either world I couldn’t blast away even a little. I don’t even think it felt my magic, honestly.”
“Looks like that thing Gandalf fought in Lord of the Rings.”
Cheyenne turned around to frown at her friend. “Come again?”
“Never mind.”
The walkway dipped into another tunnel leading out onto the fellfire grounds. When they emerged on the other side, Ember shook her head and gazed around. “What is this place again?”
“Fellfire pits.”
“You say that like I’m supposed to know what those are.”
“Like a smithy. Kinda.”
Ember snorted. “We’re going renaissance now?”
“It’s where they make the metal, Em. First time I came here, t
hat’s what they were doing. All the tech, all the walls and floors, and everything metal, made in those huge pits that—” The closest pit beside them burst in a roaring column of green flames shooting a dozen feet into the air before quickly sputtering out again. “Okay, like that.”
“Looks like a giant deathflame to me.”
“I have no idea what the difference is. Just that there is one, apparently.”
Ember snuck another glance at the Sorren Gán, who was lying on its back in a crater of earth beyond the edge of the fellfire pits. The crater flickered and shimmered with purple and silver flames all moving together like ripples in a pond. “And that thing came here to feast on magic?”
“Yeah. I kinda released it all out here before the city blew up last time.”
“Oh, right. How could I forget the exploding capital?” The fae girl snorted. “I think I’ll stay right here.”
“What?”
“No, seriously. You go ahead. I’m having flashbacks of you and L’zar flying out of that cave on fire, and it’s not really something I’m looking forward to experiencing.”
Cheyenne studied her friend’s determined grimace and shrugged. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna talk to it or anything. Just wanted to see how things got cleaned up.”
“Well, it looks like the Sorren Gán’s in a food coma.” Ember started to turn on the wide path back toward the sloping tunnel. “Now we know. Maybe we can find a bottle of Bloodshine.”
The flames around the Sorren Gán flared higher as the creature stirred in its pool of liquid fire. It snorted a burst of blue flame from its charred, fiery nostrils, and two blazing red eyes flickering with more fire opened in the thing’s massive head. It rolled sideways in the pool, its black and gray belly distended, and growled.
“You are braver than your father, little drow.” Multi-colored flames rose and fell, flickering across the crater as the Sorren Gán’s thunderous voice made the ground tremble.
Cheyenne squared her footing and stopped, holding her ground as the earth’s shaking subsided again.
“Great.” Ember stared at the creature. “We woke it up.”
“Come closer,” the Sorren Gán rumbled. “I am sated, and even one so small as you would be too much. Come.”
