The Queen's Opal: A Stone Bearers Novel (Book One)

by Jacque Stevens

  Drynn shook his head though his face and arm still stung.

  “Tayvin! Drynn?” Cindle’s voice echoed from a few streets away. “This is just great. Now they’re both gone. When I find them they’re going on leashes.”

  Tayvin released Drynn. “I found him, Cindle. We’re over here.”

  Cindle appeared at the alley entrance moments later. Her eyes narrowed, focused on Drynn’s face as if she could see the marks. Growing up in a rabbit-like hole must have given her keener night vision. “What happened?” Cindle asked.

  Tayvin frowned. “Some human boys were messing with him.”

  “What? Why would they do that?”

  Tayvin shrugged and glanced at Drynn.

  The pain in his face returned with the reminder. “Th-they wanted something.” Drynn winced at the sound of his voice. The humans were gone. His brother and Cindle were speaking Dorran again. Why was he still stuttering? “Gold, I think.”

  “Thieves! I’ll kill them.” Cindle raised her hammer.

  Tayvin shook his head. “They already ran off; you would not catch them.”

  “I hate thieves.” Her voice was a low growl, but she lowered her weapon.

  “You know what?” Tayvin asked. “I might actually agree with you there.”

  * * *

  Cain was back to arm crossing and towering. “Find anythin’?”

  Picc had beelined it to the camp as though he thought they had something good to report. Kol had followed, burning with energy, still picturing the sword at his throat and cursing the loss of his dagger. Many of his second-hand blades were chipped, with paint fading off the handles, but they were his—about the only things that really were his—and he mourned the loss of even one.

  No time to form a good lie. “We searched one, but didn’t find nothin’.” Just a freaky kid who radiated energy and a whole lot of wasted effort. Time to take his licking and move on before he got himself any deeper.

  Cain uncrossed his arms. “Maybe you shoulda searched harder.” His voice echoed through the camp. By now, everyone had returned from their various jobs and had nothing better to do than watch Cain turn red.

  Picc waved him off, still looking smug. “We had ’im against the wall. Can’t get much more thorough than that.”

  “You held ’im?” Cain hit the painted prop cart beside him so it rolled an inch in the grass. “Curse it. What part of stayin’ under wraps don’t you boys understand? Guards will be lookin’, and Kol’s been on stage. We’ll have to pack up ’fore mornin’.”

  “Wasn’t my idea.” Kol would never have given Picc his knife in the first place if he had known what the other boy had planned. But Cain had ordered Kol after the foreigners. Picc had only come because Kol thought he might need someone with more recent experience in the craft. It would have been a poor return of favor if Kol questioned Picc’s every move.

  At least, it had seemed that way at the time. Now Kol wanted to run Picc through himself, assuming he could still use his arms after Cain was done with them.

  Picc shrugged, still smiling. “We were gonna leave anyway. And who’re they gonna tell? They’re foreign. They speak Dwarf, not Kalmic. And the one we searched, he’s some kind of freak. Has ears twice the size they should be and pointed. Really ought to recruit ’im. Every troop needs a few freaks.” He laughed, scanning through the camp until he found a stout, broad-shouldered figure in the back. “Hey, Dwarf, where do you figure they’re from?”

  The dorran stood silently until it was clear that Cain wanted the answer as well as Picc. Then he shrugged. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you found an elf. But their kind never leaves the forest.”

  Cain’s face scrunched and his arms refolded. “The fairies? Are you tellin’ me my boys found themselves a forest spirit?”

  A few in the crowd laughed, though most just stared. Rumors of the Elban spirits—the elves and the other fairies—ranged all over, but one thing was certain: they weren’t remotely human and had far too much magic to be held by anyone.

  Dwarf sighed, looking at Cain like he was stupid—a feat no one else in the troop ever got away with. “They ain’t spirits. Just fast and good at jumpin’ out of nowhere. Don’t know if it’s magic or what, but they look near human. Just a bit smaller—big ears, big eyes, and all narrowed angles. But like I said, they never leave the forest, and they never talk to humans. Only seen ’em a time or two at the mines’ borders myself. Boys probably saw a deformed human.” The dorran turned and walked away as if that should end the discussion.

  Picc jerked around after him, his eyes wide and almost spinning with excitement. “But that’s wot we saw. He can dart ’round like no other. That’s why we had to grab ’im in the first place. We never would’ve been able to search ’im otherwise.”

  That much was true. When Kol had tried to loot the kid the first time, he had used the easiest thieving tactic he knew: run into the target and go through his pockets in the confusion. But the kid had jumped away. He had done it repeatedly with Picc—so fast and easy it seemed unnatural.

  Cain smiled, his eyes just as eager as Picc’s. “Looks like we found your magical object, Kol. And you were able to hold ’im? He didn’t try nothin’ unnatural on you?”

  Picc snorted. “Lil’ runt just cowered.”

  Kol glared, energy still stirring inside. “He’s a kid. There’re others. A dwarf and an older guy who near took my head off.” He expected to get beat, but this was getting out of control.

  Cain nodded as if Kol had contributed a key strategy point. “So we stick with the kid. He might be too young to use his magic, but any forest spirit has gotta fetch a price with the robes.”

  “Wait. How is nabbin’ some freak better than pullin’ one into an alley?” Kol asked. The Lord wasn’t going to like this. He hated the robes, and Kol didn’t much like the thought of being near one either.

  Cain waved him off, frowning. “You slipped up, that’s for sure, but as we have to leave now anyway, might as well get somethin’ for our trouble. Last I checked, there ain’t no law against nabbin’ fairies. And givin’ it to the robes is near a public service. Now you boys clear out and let the grownups talk.”

  Picc protested. It was his find, and he wanted to be involved. Kol was more than happy to leave, though he was still scowling as he passed Kitti.

  She glowered back, her hair sweeping from side to side. “You should be grateful. This is still your mess we’re cleanin’ up, and I don’t know why Cain isn’t takin’ it out of your hide.”

  Several snide rebuttals came to mind, but Kol didn’t trust his voice or expression to deliver anything properly. He tried to picture the flames again, steel himself in the character of the bandit, but instead he thought of the wide-eyed look of the kid in the alley. Watching the knife—Kol’s knife—as if it had never seen such a thing before, while Kol had tried to pretend he was anywhere else. On stage or back in Wildred picking off targets too oblivious and well-off to notice.

  He had tired of this business before it began—almost wished Kitti had succeeded in getting him hit and called it a day.

  Too late now. Kol kept walking with his head down, wind stirring through the dust at his feet. Cain did what he wanted and sticking Kol’s neck out further would only make matters worse.

  Better to think of the kid as an animal and move on. Just like the rest of his band.

  His hand clutched his dagger; the same one that he had lent to Picc. When had he picked that up? He could have sworn he had left it.

  Kol shook his head. Now he was going mad on top of everything else.

  CHAPTER 10

  DRYNN KICKED THE blanket away. He had been trying to sleep for hours but had only managed to catch a few minutes at a time. He rolled around so much that the blanket had gotten tangled around him, almost strangling him in retaliation. Tayvin gave up trying to sleep on the unnaturally plush human bed hours ago. He was now on the roof. Drynn considered joining him, but Cindle might be offended if neither of them
used her purchased room.

  And Tayvin might still be upset. He had yelled when they got to the inn and saw the red marks on Drynn’s face in the lamplight, which got Tayvin in another fight with Cindle about making a scene and being “pompous and overbearing.” It was a terrible thought, but it was nice to be away from the pair of them for a few hours—not to worry about them tearing him to pieces between them as quickly as the humans’ knives would—even if he couldn’t sleep.

  And with Tayvin absent, Drynn could get the opal out without upsetting anyone.

  He needed it more than ever tonight, a connection to home. He still wanted to know what illness caused his mother’s death, but the human lands were more than he ever could have prepared for, maybe more than he could handle. So loud. So fast. So large. Terrifying, really.

  Drynn took the opal from his pack and tried to take some comfort in its swirling depths. Along with the night noises from the open window, it had an almost mesmerizing effect. Then the window let in another noise. A sort of rubbing and scraping that wasn’t there before.

  Then whispering.

  It could be nothing, but after what happened on the street, he couldn’t ignore it. Drynn got off the bed, sticking the opal in the inner pocket of his cloak as he walked toward the window. A man scaled the outside wall as sloppily as the too-large panther.

  Drynn didn’t know what to make of him. He wasn’t a pleasant human to look at, but there was no crime in climbing buildings. Tayvin had done the same earlier. The man glanced at Drynn.

  The dagger he carried in his broken teeth glittered in the moonlight.

  Drynn stumbled into one of those ridiculous human chairs, hitting the ground as the bedroom door opened to reveal another man with a stick. Thieves had surrounded him again, men much bigger than the boys in the alley. If either of them hit Drynn, it would do more than sting his face.

  Drynn mouthed Tayvin’s name without saying it aloud. He wanted to call him, but Tayvin had been so upset last time. This time . . . who knew what would happen? Drynn pushed at the chair legs closing in on him like a rabbit snare.

  The first man got one arm over the window’s ledge and grabbed Drynn by the collar. Drynn’s hood had been down to begin with, and he was past caring if anyone knew he was an elf. Getting around this man to the streets or rooftops beyond the window might be his only chance to escape on his own.

  Drynn started to twist out of his cloak, gaining the use of his feet before his voice.

  The man yanked him out the window with him.

  Too late for Drynn to stop himself from twisting free. The man cursed as Drynn slipped, falling the rest of the way down the building.

  Drynn spun around, cat-like, landing upright. Pain shot through his lower limbs. Something cracked. Drynn blinked, spots blurring the image of another man waiting at the wall’s base.

  The human backed up as if Drynn was a beast preparing to pounce, but Drynn was in too much pain to do anything quite so rambunctious.

  The pain spiked, and Drynn collapsed.

  CHAPTER 11

  TAYVIN WOKE TO Cindle shouting below him. “You two better be downstairs because I’m done chasing after you. I have better things to do.”

  He pushed up from the roof tiles and shook his head. The dorran girl was shouting, but she was always shouting. He saw no reason to hurry himself because of it. He made sure his cloak was where it should be before dropping to the windowsill. “What are you going on about? Drynn knew I was on the roof.”

  Cindle jerked back, scowling. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  Sneak? She had called and he came. Tayvin would never figure out what that woman actually wanted. He shrugged and eased himself up from the sill. Both crumpled beds stood empty, their belongings piled to the side. No Drynn. “Where’d Drynn run off to?”

  “Like I’d know. You’d think he would have learned his lesson after last night.”

  Fiddling with his bow, Tayvin gathered his things together. “I’m sure he just went downstairs to wait for us. He should have grabbed his stuff, though. I’ll get it.”

  Tayvin frowned when he reached Drynn’s pile. Forgetting his bag was one thing, but why would Drynn leave without putting on his boots?

  He took to the stairs, Cindle trailing after him with even stomps that echoed her sour disposition. Noise spilled over from the common room. Still, the room wasn’t near as crowded as last night. A few servers weaved around partially filled tables.

  No Drynn.

  Tayvin’s eyes darted through the room, his heart starting to race. Was someone holding Drynn again? Hurting him for no reason? Drynn had brushed it off the night before, but Tayvin had seen the red marks on his brother’s face. After their mother’s death . . . he couldn’t lose Drynn. He just couldn’t. The desperate emotion flashed hotter all the time.

  He rounded on Cindle the second she cleared the stairwell. “Where would he have gone? I’m going to search the street.”

  “Uh . . . Tayvin,” she shifted her bag, “I’m worried about Drynn too, but if he went somewhere, the easiest way to find him would be to stay where he can find us.”

  Patrons peered up from their morning meals, but Tayvin hardly cared. Most of the humans didn’t seem to know any language but their own. “And if he’s in trouble? What if more of those thief boys got him?” He turned to the door.

  Cindle held out an arm, blocking his way. “Why would they do that? Those boys were bandits, and all a bandit wants is money. If they searched him last night, and Drynn said they did, they would have no reason to bother him again.”

  Tayvin looked for an opening around her arm. “There couldn’t be a different set of bandits? There’s no other trouble Drynn could be in where he would need my help?” Drynn wouldn’t just run off. Not without him.

  “If there is, he’s been in that trouble all night and a few more hours to make sure wouldn’t make a difference either way.”

  Blood rushed from his face. Drynn never even raised his voice. What kind of demons would want to torment him all night? What could they possibly gain from it?

  Cindle grabbed his arm, and Tayvin paused. Even if he could make the muscled dorran lose her grip, years of conditioning forbade him from grappling with a woman. Any woman. Even one too thick-headed to see the urgency of the situation. Drynn was gone.

  Cindle pulled him toward a chair. “Just sit down a minute, and I’ll talk to the innkeeper. He’ll tell me if Drynn left earlier, but knowing you people, he could have used the window.” She spun toward the bar and shouted to the men in Human.

  Tayvin forced himself to sit through the string of gibberish. Maybe the man would know something, and then Cindle would let Tayvin look instead of yanking him around like a toddler.

  Cindle turned, using the table to block Tayvin from standing with the same movement. “He hasn’t seen anything, but you’re just going to get lost out there, darting about aimlessly. I still trust Drynn to find his way back here more than I trust you to find him.” She shook her head. “We’ll wait an hour, then we can look together.”

  Tayvin glared, but he nodded. Thoughts of the thieves filled him with dread, but Cindle was right. Drynn was smart, smarter than him. He knew much more about humans than Tayvin did. Cindle too. Now that he had been forced to stop and think, he really wasn’t sure where he intended to start looking on his own. But even as he agreed, his fingers drummed on the table.

  It was going to be one long hour.

  * * *

  The ground rocked—shifted under Drynn as if sitting on a branch too small to hold his weight. Drynn rolled to his side, searching for the tree’s stable center. His hands were twisted behind his back, bound together so he couldn’t steady himself. Pain and nausea ripped through him. He dry-heaved, staring down through pitch darkness.

  He was going to fall.

  He even wanted to fall. Just so the shaking would stop.

  But it didn’t. He rocked back and forth, on and on until his mind retreated into oblivion
.

  The next time his eyes opened, some of the shadows came into focus. Dark corners of a wooden box surrounded him. No opening. No light. The hot air seemed much too thin. What if he ran out? His quick, shallow breaths increased at the thought.

  He had to get out. Now. Get back to Tayvin and Cindle before it was too late.

  Gritting his teeth, Drynn pulled his aching legs up and moved his arms around until they rested in front of him, still tied. He stared at the rope’s loose knot and frayed edges. He strained against it, twisting his hands through the narrow gaps. His eyes and wrists burned with sweat before the rope slipped to the floor.

  He reached for the wall, finding his feet. He stood with his eyes closed and steeled himself against the relentless rhythmic movement. Each muscle radiated with a steady ache.

  The ground beneath him jerked to a stop. Drynn flailed, hitting the back wall. His eyes flashed open, and another wave of nausea struck him.

  Dim light traced the outline of a door. He stumbled toward it, hitting a smaller box in front of him. Scattered shadows littered the floor. Drynn pushed past them, his hand on the wall and eyes fixed on the light until he fell forward onto the door.

  It didn’t budge.

  Drynn felt around the door with his hands. Cool air trickled through the narrow gaps. He sucked it in, but it only made him crave it more. Out. He had to get out, but there wasn’t a latch on his side. He gave under the strain of his legs, sinking down and rubbing his arms.

  How long had he been trapped here? Falling from the window seemed a distant memory. Tayvin would find him eventually, but how much time had he cost them?

  And where were the humans who had grabbed him? Who had held his cloak as he had fallen?

  His cloak. He had placed the opal in his cloak before he had fallen, and now it was gone. The prize of his whole race, the last connection he had to remember his mother, and he had let some human stranger take it away. His head dropped.