Blood and Betrayal (The Emperor's Edge Book 5)

by Lindsay Buroker

  Afraid someone might find him an appealing target, Maldynado kept his body behind machinery used for lifting the lifeboats from the deck to the water. On the other side of the paddlewheel, Basilard maintained a similar position as he observed the second enforcer boat. Instead of lining up firearms, he’d found a longbow to use, though the beadwork quiver and colorfully fletched arrows made the weapon appear more decorative than functional.

  “Attention river pirates,” a voice called through a megaphone on the closest enforcer boat, “you are in violation of Bergonla Satrapy Code, Forty-five-dash-six and Imperial Law Number Three. You will slow down and prepare to be boarded. If you do not comply, we will take offensive measures.”

  “Law Three? What, by grandmother’s hairiest mole, is that?” Maldynado figured it had to be an important one since it didn’t have any dashes or extra numbers in it.

  “Impersonating the emperor,” came Yara’s voice from behind him.

  “Impersonating!” Maldynado raised his voice to holler over the splashing of the paddlewheel and the churning of the engines. “We’re not impersonating anyone! We have the emperor on board, and your ancestral spirits will strangle you if you illiterate louts shoot down his officially commandeered ship.” While yelling made him feel better, he doubted the enforcers could hear him over the engines and paddlewheel.

  Yara, however, frowned at him. “Illiterate louts? There are written as well as oral portions of the enforcer exam.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean… Uhm, illiterate louts, where did that come from anyway? That’s more something Books would say. Maybe Akstyr used his foreign magics to put the idea in my head.”

  “That’s pathetic.”

  Maldynado was glad the emperor wasn’t around to hear him irritating Yara. His supposed expertise on women might be questioned.

  Yara waved toward the sleek vessels. “They’re just doing their jobs. Someone must have reported the steamboat hijacked.”

  A crossbow bolt skipped off the railing, whizzed past Yara’s arm, and slammed into the wall behind her. Maldynado grabbed her and pulled her behind the lifeboat machinery. It seemed the “offensive measures” had begun.

  “Still sympathetic because they’re just doing their jobs?” Maldynado asked.

  A boom rent the morning air, and a flaming projectile slammed into the paddlewheel. Wood splintered and flew into the water, while shards pattered onto the deck around Maldynado and Yara. The flames were quickly extinguished as the paddles rotated into the water, but that wouldn’t be the case if one of those projectiles hit the boat itself.

  “Yes.” Yara picked a shard of wood out of her hair. “But less so now.”

  Maldynado grabbed the closest musket and leaned around the lifeboat, searching for a likely target.

  “Don’t shoot to kill,” Yara said. “The emperor won’t want the blood of his own people on his hands.”

  “I know. Amaranthe gets huffy when we kill people too. Maybe they’d make a decent couple after all.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  On the closest boat, two men were loading the forward gun while a third waited to shoot it, some sort of metal shield protecting him. Maldynado aimed at the leg of one of the unprotected enforcers. He fired, though the musket had the accuracy of a drunken peg-leg sailor launching a wad at a spittoon. The ball clanged off the gunner’s shield, ricocheting uselessly into the water.

  “That’s your idea of not shooting to kill?” Yara picked up one of the ornate muskets in the lineup. “You were two inches from hitting that man in the eye.”

  “That’s not the one I was aiming at. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be helping Books in the engine room?”

  “He said he could handle it by himself.”

  Another boom sounded. This time, the shell soared toward Maldynado and Yara. They flattened themselves to the deck. The round smashed through the wooden lifeboat and the wall behind it. A bong reverberated from the engine room, followed by an ominous grinding sound.

  “That might be about to change,” Maldynado replied.

  A second flaming projectile smashed into the wheel; paddles flew off like scales torn from a pine cone and cast upon the wind.

  Yara fired, the crack of her musket sounding inches from Maldynado’s ear. If her shot hit the boat, he couldn’t tell. It certainly didn’t make any of the enforcers flinch.

  Maldynado cupped a hand over his ear. “Nicely done.”

  “It seems neither of us is the sharpshooter we’d like to be,” Yara admitted. “Enforcers aren’t encouraged to learn how to shoot firearms.” She grabbed a powder tin to reload the weapons and pointed for Maldynado to keep firing.

  “It’s not you. They’re not close enough for these old, inaccurate muskets. They’re staying back to—”

  Another projectile soared over the railing, this time on Basilard’s side, and pounded through the wall and into the engine room.

  “—incapacitate us,” Maldynado finished.

  “We need to take out their boats somehow,” Yara said. “If we can crash them or sink them, we can make it to the lake before reinforcements come up the river.”

  “An excellent notion. How do we make it happen?”

  Yara shrugged. Maldynado kept firing while she reloaded for him, but the enforcer artillery weapons were destroying the paddlewheel. Without that, the steamboat would be dead in the water. Maldynado would like to return the favor, but, from his position, he couldn’t see the engines or boilers of the smaller crafts. Even if the design didn’t hide those vulnerable points, he lacked weapons that had a chance of damaging them.

  “What would Amaranthe do?” he muttered. “Something inspired. Something crazy.”

  Maldynado peered about, but the limited items within sight certainly didn’t inspire him. The lifeboats dominated the back half of the deck, and the lounge chairs and tables in the middle appeared neither menacing nor useful. He imagined chucking them over the side at the oncoming boats. Those sleek crafts were small compared to the steamboat, but not small enough that hitting a folding deck chair would derail them. Something larger perhaps. He laid a thoughtful hand on the half-destroyed lifeboat they were using for cover.

  “I have an idea,” Maldynado said. “Keep them busy.”

  Without waiting for an acknowledgment of his order, Maldynado ran to one of the large cranks used for raising and lowering the lifeboat. The wide handle was meant for two to operate, and he had to throw his entire body into each stroke. Yara grabbed a handful of muskets and moved closer to the paddlewheel, either because she wanted the enforcers focused on her instead of him, or because she was worried Maldynado would drop the lifeboat on her foot.

  More flaming rounds pummeled the back of the steamboat. A string of expletives erupted from inside the engine room. Maldynado glanced in that direction, worried that Books had been hit. Flames crackled behind shattered windows, and smoke poured through ragged holes blasted in the walls.

  “They’re getting closer,” Yara said after firing another round. “They must sense that they’ve got us. Whatever you’re going to do—”

  “I should do it before we sink. I know.” Maldynado returned to the crank and gave it a few good heaves.

  The lifeboat inched higher, finally clearing the level of the railing. The wind shifted, and smoke billowed into Maldynado’s eyes. Hot, sooty air seared his lungs, and a round of coughs sabotaged him. Eyes watering, he grabbed a lever under a brass plaque depicting stick figures dropping a stick lifeboat overboard.

  “Wait!” Yara yelled. “There’s a partial beaver dam sticking out from the shore ahead. If you time it—”

  Maldynado paused, his hands gripping the lever. Tears streamed from his smoke-beleaguered eyes, and he could barely make out the shore. For all he could tell, drunken beavers could be dancing atop the brown smudge that Yara claimed was a dam. He dragged a sleeve across his eyes.

  “Now!” Yara barked.

  Maldynado threw his weight into pu
lling the lever. The machinery groaned in protest, and he feared nobody had oiled it for ages, but the lifeboat eventually released. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

  As soon it splashed down, Maldynado realized he was vulnerable with only the metal railing for protection from snipers. As if to confirm the thought, a crossbow quarrel gouged into the deck at his feet. He sprinted for the protection of the battered paddlewheel, nearly crashing into Yara.

  Shouts and curses came from the water behind them. The lifeboat had splashed down in the closest boat’s path. The small, maneuverable ship veered to the side in time to avoid a collision, but their new course sent them toward the beaver dam. Water sprayed as the pilot tried to bank so the craft wouldn’t crash. He almost managed the maneuver, but struck the logs sideways with enough of a jolt to hurl several men overboard.

  Maldynado hoped his sabotage would incapacitate the craft, or at least delay it significantly. The steamboat plowed past the dam, and he gave the enforcers a friendly wave. No less than five men threw their arms up in obscene gestures.

  “Enforcers are so crude,” Maldynado said.

  Yara gripped his arm, and he expected to be abraded for his comment, but she said, “Good work.”

  Before he could bask under the influence of her rare praise, a great shudder ran through the steamboat. The piston arms powering the paddlewheel were no longer pumping smoothly. One had developed a hitch that made the boat lurch and tremble with each rotation. Each rotation also sent more wood paddles flying from the wheel.

  “How much farther is that lake?” Maldynado wondered.

  Yara shook her head. “We better help Basilard with the other boat.”

  Maldynado took a step in that direction only to pause. “Where is Basilard?”

  A throwing knife lay on the deck where he’d been, but the long bow was gone, as was he. An entire section of the railing was gone, the two ragged ends dangling. Maldynado swallowed. If Basilard had taken one of those giant shells in the chest…

  No, Maldynado told himself, there’d be a body. Unless Basilard had been knocked overboard…

  Two grappling hooks clung to the railing on either side of the missing section. The paddlewheel blocked Maldynado’s view of the ropes and the other boat, but a sick lurch ran through his stomach. Not only was Basilard missing, but enforcers might have come on board while Maldynado had been busy with his sabotage. They could already be advancing on the wheelhouse and the emperor. And if they thought Sespian was an impostor… .

  “What’s the penalty for violating Law Three?” Maldynado asked.

  “Death,” Yara said grimly.

  “Emperor’s bunions,” Maldynado spat. He started to sprint toward the grappling hooks, to head off any more enforcers trying to board, but a flaming projectile burned through the air ahead of him, smashing into engineering.

  “Help!” Books cried, his voice garbled.

  Maldynado groaned, not sure in which direction to run.

  “I’ll check on him,” Yara said and sprinted toward the closest door.

  Maldynado ran to the end of the paddlewheel, knowing that he’d be an easy target if he popped into view in front of the broken railing. An enforcer’s hands gripped the railing, and the man started over. Abandoning cover, Maldynado sprinted over and used the stock of a musket to club him in the face. In the middle of climbing off the rope, the man couldn’t defend himself. He let go and fell in the water with a splash, narrowly missing being caught up in the churning paddlewheel.

  Four more enforcers were climbing up the twin ropes running from their craft to the steamboat railing. Maldynado whipped his musket up and loosed a shot. It caught the closest man in the shoulder. He screamed and dropped into the river.

  “Fire!” came a cry from the boat.

  Enforcers were lined up on their foredeck, crossbows aimed in Maldynado’s direction. He dropped to his belly faster than a five-hundred-pound weight. Quarrels slammed against the railing and the wall behind him, one skimming so close to his jaw that he wouldn’t need to shave that spot for a while.

  Maldynado scrambled for the protective cover of the paddlewheel. He made it, but had lost the musket in the fall. For a second, he thought about waiting there and trying to punch men as they came over, but he couldn’t do that without exposing himself to the crossbowmen on the boat.

  “Some help would be nice,” Maldynado growled, racing back to his earlier spot by the lifeboat machinery. Akstyr should have been down here making makarovi illusions.

  Three loaded muskets remained near the railing, though they’d fallen to the deck. Maldynado stopped so fast he skidded and almost knocked them overboard. He grabbed one and spun, lifting the weapon as he turned.

  Huge clouds of black smoke blew out of the engine room, and he almost missed seeing the first two enforcers sprint across the deck to disappear on the opposite side of the ship. The third one was pulling himself over the railing. No longer caring if he shot to wound or kill, Maldynado aimed at the man’s torso.

  Before he could squeeze the trigger, the steamboat slammed into something. A massive jolt hurled Maldynado to the deck. He skidded several feet on his side, the force almost slinging him through the railing and into the river. Up ahead somewhere, wood snapped, the noise ear-splitting as it rolled across the foggy lake like thunder.

  Foggy lake? Maldynado sat up. When had they reached the lake?

  The waterwheel was still spinning, the engine moaning and groaning worse than Books when forced to train, but forward progress had ground to a halt. Water lapped over the edge of the deck, soaking Maldynado’s pants. Shadows stirred on the opposite side of the boat, and he remembered the enforcers. He lurched to his feet, patting around for a sword, musket, or, if nothing else, a hefty piece of wood to use as a club.

  More men streaked over the railing, heading toward the front of the steamboat. Half of them didn’t even glance in Maldynado’s direction. They had to be running toward the wheelhouse—toward the emperor. Only they’d think Sespian wasn’t the emperor.

  Maldynado snarled and found a rifle. It wasn’t loaded, and he had no idea where the powder and ammunition had gone. Over the side probably. Well, he’d crack people on the head with the butt.

  He started to run toward the enforcers, but wheezing coughs from the nearest doorway distracted him. Yara stumbled out of the smoky boiler room, dragging Books across the deck behind her.

  Torn between running to the emperor’s defense and helping Books, Maldynado hesitated, frozen for a second. Sicarius’s threat rang between his ears.

  “Akstyr ought to be up there,” he finally muttered and ran to Yara’s side.

  Books’s eyes weren’t open.

  “Is he… ?” Maldynado asked.

  “Help me get him off this boat,” Yara said.

  “Off… where?” Maldynado didn’t know if they’d hit land or some sizable boulder protruding from the waters.

  Still pulling Books, Yara threw him an exasperated glare. “Anywhere!” She jerked her chin toward the smoking engine room. Inside flames licked their way up the walls. “That boiler could blow up any second!”

  “Bloody, dead ancestors,” Maldynado said, though the back of his mind found the time to thank those dead ancestors that, for once, he hadn’t been the one to crash the ship.

  He grabbed Books’s legs, and he and Yara soon had him draped over the railing. Maldynado patted his cheek. “Wake up, Booksie. This’ll be a lot easier if you can swim.”

  Yara splashed water into his eyes. They moved under the lids, but he didn’t open them. He’d either sucked in piles of toxic fumes, or he didn’t want to see where Maldynado was about to toss him.

  “We’re on an island.” Yara had leaned out to peer toward the front of the steamboat. “I can swim well enough to get him to shore.”

  Maldynado nodded. “Good. A ton of enforcers ran past, so I need to check on the emperor.”

  “Don’t stop to fight them. Just get the emperor off before this broken beast blows
up.” Yara hopped over the railing and into the lake.

  “Don’t stop to fight them, sure.” Maldynado lowered Books down to her. “I’m game to follow those orders, but I’m not sure they’ll cooperate.”

  Yara shifted Books onto his back, wrapped one arm across his chest and pulled him toward the shore. She looked like she knew what she was doing, so Maldynado offered a quick wave and sprinted for the nearest staircase.

  As he climbed to the top deck, he finally got a good look at the island, and he nearly tripped when he realized where they were. Marblecrest Island.

  “Of all the luck… ” He didn’t know whether to call it good luck or bad luck. At least he knew where the boathouse was and that there ought to be canoes and dinghies they could use to reach their real destination. Wherever that was.

  When he reached the base of the stairs leading to the wheelhouse, Maldynado intended to charge straight up, but two enforcers were guarding the spot. Clangs rang out from up above, the clangs of swords banging against swords.

  The enforcers spotted Maldynado immediately and lifted their crossbows to shoot. He hurled the unloaded rifle at them, whipping it sideways in an optimistic notion of disrupting both their shots. As soon as he threw it, he turned his run into a sprint and dove into a roll that, he hoped, would carry him crashing into their legs, causing a massive discombobulation.

  Before he hit the deck, a crossbow bolt thudded into his shoulder. Pain ripped down his left arm. Idiot, Maldynado thought, even as his momentum threw him into that roll, you’re probably the only one discombobulated here.

  Three rapid revolutions later, he smashed into something hard enough to drive the air out of his lungs. It wasn’t the enforcers’ legs, as he’d hoped, but the stairs themselves.