Warrior Rogue (The Drift Lords Series)

by Nancy J. Cohen

  His blood chilled. He had to divert the beast’s attention from Jen. “She’s just an innocent caught up in this fiasco. Let her go, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  “She’s not going anywhere. My dokter wife has plans for her. And she is far from innocent. Jennifer Dyhr is a critical player in this game.” His eyes hardened. “Cease your struggle. Fighting us is useless. You might as well talk and ease your discomfort. Where is the rest of your team? Are they on the island, or are their targets elsewhere?”

  “I’ve told you, we lost contact. I didn’t even know they’d succeeded in knocking out the jamming signal until you said so.”

  “You’re as stubborn as the other Drift Lord. Korporal, I don’t think your knives will work on him. Let’s use the boratus worms. Do you know of these creatures, Drift Lord?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll tell me.” He didn’t like the evil grin that split the korporal’s face. It made his elongated nose stick in the air like a space antenna.

  “The little creatures bore into the nerve ganglia. You’ll experience excruciating pain and beg for the mercy of death.”

  Paz tensed his muscles against the straps, then gave up in despair. “I can’t give you the location of my mates if I don’t know it.”

  The general stuck his face in front of Paz’s, giving him a whiff of foul breath. “We mean to kill every member of your team and use the Earth women in the prophecy for our experiments. But first, you’ll tell us about your ship in orbit. You’ll reveal the shield frequencies for the Star Empire’s defense grid. Then, and only then, will you die.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jen languished in a tower chamber furnished with a toilet, a sink, and a hard cot. A sliver of a window high up on a wall provided light but not much fresh air. She’d fallen asleep, awakening in the morning when a guard brought her an apple and cheese and a mug of water. She’d gulped them down like an animal.

  Her stomach knotted as she thought of Paz locked in the dungeon. What were they doing to him? Was he being tortured? Was he even still alive? Nausea assaulted her at the prospects.

  Her own future wasn’t much brighter. The notion of being injected with foreign DNA as one of Algie’s guinea pigs made her shake uncontrollably.

  If the Trolleks had wanted help finding a solution to their male sterility problem, why hadn’t they asked instead of attacking the human race? Had revenge for past wrongs so blackened their hearts? Was their king truly mad, or did he listen to urgings from someone—or something else?

  She couldn’t deal with the whys or wherefores now. What mattered was getting out of here.

  Algie had mentioned her power. Like Nira, Jen supposedly had abilities that defied and threatened the Trolleks. How so? What could she do against their fearsome army?

  An odd notion popped into her head. She rubbed her brow, aching from that incessant low buzzing sound. What if it wasn’t the Trollek force she could influence but the human slaves instead?

  No, hadn’t one of the soldiers called Nira a witch because she’d killed one of them?

  Jen bit her lip, pacing the small space while the wood boards creaked underfoot. Sweat ringed her neck, and the heat made her clothing stick to her body. Perhaps it didn’t affect her hosts. She had no idea what their home world was like.

  From their fierce appearance, one might think the Trolleks would be savages like their ancestors, but they were intelligent and cunning beings. What would they not expect her to do?

  She strode to the door and pounded on the wood panel. “I want to see your leader. Take me to him. Open the door.”

  It swung open and a Trollek soldier faced her with a scowl and a drawn weapon.

  “What is it, human?” His scornful gaze raked her, his small eyes set above a hooked nose like a summer squash.

  “I have news for the general. If he provides better amenities than this hole in the wall, I’m willing to talk, but only to him.”

  She was betting the lowly enlisted soldier didn’t know Algie’s plans for her. He probably had no idea why she’d been imprisoned there and not enslaved like other humans.

  “Wait here. I will consult my superior.” The menig shut the door in her face, and she heard the click of a latch.

  She sank onto the single cot and waited. If only her head would clear. Closing her eyes made the noise worse. It felt as though thousands of mini jackhammers danced inside her brain.

  Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

  It would drive her insane. What had brought on this torment?

  She buried her head in her hands and moaned. It had started in the jet just before the Trolleks jumped in. Could it be caused by the rift Paz claimed was in the vicinity? Or were the Trolleks the source of her problem? Hadn’t Paz mentioned Nira experienced the same effect? Likely just being in the beasts’ presence brought on the sensation.

  Footsteps outside scattered her thoughts. Leytnant Bosk busted open the door.

  “What is it, human?”

  She leapt to her feet. “I wish to see General Morar.”

  “What for?” His whiskers twitched.

  “I have information to share, but I’ll only tell him in exchange for better facilities.”

  “You’ll tell me what you know. I won’t have you bothering the general.” He kicked the door shut behind him then strode forward, yanking his shock stick from his belt. His eyes seemed to shrink further into his head as he regarded her like a carrion bird might its prey.

  “Hurt me, and incur the dokter’s wrath. I’m her special project.” Jen lifted her chin.

  “So why do you want to see her husband?”

  “That’s between us.”

  She had in mind the notion to plant seeds of mistrust between the general and his wife. Algie didn’t seem particularly obedient to their king. She obeyed when it suited her needs but had her own agenda.

  With a growl, Bosk raised his stick. Her heart pounding, Jen backed up against the wall. He could do what he wanted here, and no one would be the wiser. Those electric shocks would hurt but didn’t leave permanent damage.

  She gritted her teeth against anticipated pain. The leytnant had been itching to torment her. She feared he hadn’t done so sooner because he’d been working on Paz. Where was the brave Drift Lord who’d risked his life to protect her? Was he chained in the dungeon, still being tortured, or dead?

  “Don’t come any nearer,” she warned the officer.

  His stick got her in the stomach. Through an explosion of pain, she sank to her knees.

  “Confess, witch. You have nothing to tell the general. You merely seek a means to escape.”

  He jolted her on the chest, and she collapsed to the floor. Her body twitched, shards of agony igniting her nerves. She bit her tongue, tasting blood.

  “Nice sash you’re wearing, Leytnant. Was that a reward ribbon for capturing me and Paz? Where is he, by the way?”

  “Probably begging for death.” Bosk grinned, exposing jagged teeth. “General Morar left him with Korporal Nagt, our chief interrogator. He gets a particular delight out of carving recalcitrant humans until their skin hangs in strips. But he’ll probably try the boratus worms first.”

  Jen wanted to close her ears but compulsion made her ask, “What’s that?”

  He snickered at her lying on the floor and kicked her with his boot. She grunted as he connected with her ribs.

  “Nasty creatures about this long.” He spread his fingers an inch wide while she struggled to breathe against the soreness. “They crawl in through the nose and attack the nerve ganglia.”

  Her gut quivered. She couldn’t imagine such a horror. “Does anyone survive?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Unfortunately for them, yes. The worms don’t last long in the host’s body heat. When they die, they release a longer-lasting toxin.” His grin widened. “It’s the greatest pleasure to hear the victims scream.”

  “Bastard. I hate you.” Tears leaked from her eyes at the thought of what Paz must be enduring
. They barely knew each other, and yet that connection he spoke of was undeniably true.

  “You’ll hate me more when I’m through with you. If it weren’t for the dokter’s orders, I’d have taken my satisfaction from you already.” Drool dribbled down his chin. “What are her plans for you? She hasn’t shared them.”

  “Sucks for you, buddy. Guess you’re not important enough.”

  He slapped her. “Provoke me again, human, and I’ll say you caused trouble and needed to be subdued.”

  Her glance fastened on the sash slung across his torso at a diagonal. If only she could tie it around her ears to block that incessant buzzing noise. Her head pounded in synchrony with the throbbing points of pain throughout her body. Or better still, she’d like to wrap that piece of fabric around Bosk’s thick neck.

  He pummeled her again for sport, and her vision dimmed. As her head lolled back, she imagined the cloth snaking up his shoulders and twisting around his neck. With every ounce of energy, she squeezed it tight, her imaginary fingers tightening the noose from behind.

  Choking gasps sounded followed by silence.

  Awareness seeped back into her mind. Staring at her eyeball to eyeball on the floor was the leytnant, dead as a battery out of juice. His tongue dangled from his open mouth. Her glance shifted to his neck. He’d been strangled by his own sash.

  Shock froze her in place. Good God, had she done that? How was this possible?

  Guilt flushed her face and made waves of heat and cold skitter up and down her spine.

  She took a couple of rapid, shaky breaths. Worry about it later. Use this opportunity.

  Caution made her glance toward the closed door. At any moment, the sentry might burst in to check on them. He’d see his superior on the floor. Jen didn’t want him to realize the guy was dead until she’d had the chance to get far away.

  With a grimace, she unwound the sash and then wrestled with the Trollek’s big body to put the ribbon back in place. Done with that unpleasant chore, she grabbed his shock stick from where he’d dropped it on the floor.

  She turned the rod in her fingers but couldn’t determine how to operate it. Nonetheless, the thing might have its uses. For extra measure, she confiscated the dagger from the beast’s boot and stashed it between her breasts.

  “Help! Someone help me!” She leveraged to her feet and retreated to a spot by the door. “The leytnant is sick. He’s collapsed to the floor.”

  The door opened outwardly, so she couldn’t hide behind it when the sentry came in. Fortunately, he was alone and unsuspecting. She bashed the shock stick into his temple as he entered. It was like hitting a brick wall. He turned toward her and snarled, raising his hand to strike.

  Jen cast aside the useless rod and drew the dagger. As he stepped toward her, she lunged forward and aimed for his throat. The knife sank into his flesh. A stunned look crossed his expression, and then he slumped to the ground.

  Her hands bloody, Jen stared at him. She had just killed a man.

  Not a man. A Trollek.

  Two Trolleks, to be exact.

  Left alive, they would have beaten or tortured her and Paz to death or given them over to others who would do the same.

  Paz. She had to find him. Their only hope of escape was to stay together.

  She rushed to the sink, washed her hands thoroughly and shook them dry. Then she flew out the door and down the stairs.

  ****

  Paz rolled on the hard dirt floor, curled in on himself, and groaned. He’d just regained consciousness back in the dungeon and wished he hadn’t. Every cell in his body flared with pain. He reeked of sweat and vomit, his body’s defense against the invasion. He shivered with horror at what they’d done to him.

  He hadn’t talked, revealing nothing after the korporal inserted the squiggly creatures into his nostrils while he lay strapped down and helpless to resist. So he’d resisted the way he’d been trained, with his mind.

  As pinching, shooting pains traveled along his nerves, he had envisioned Jen, her wavy black hair unfurled, her dewy brown eyes wide, a sexy smile on her lips. He’d heard his own screams in the background as though they belonged to someone else. He’d also heard the korporal’s persistent voice in his ear, urging him to spill information from his tongue. The noises washed over him, unable to touch him in his private place.

  Blessedly, he’d passed out amid promises of worst torments to come.

  He must have been granted a reprieve to wake up here.

  “Some water?” Smitty’s gravelly voice said.

  He lifted his head, noticing a lantern in the corner. The guards must have left it there by mistake.

  Smitty knelt beside him, holding out a dented pewter mug. Paz accepted his offer and drank greedily. The dwarf had to have saved his own ration for Paz. He vowed inwardly to make it up to the fellow later.

  “Thanks.” His thirst quenched, he pushed away the mug.

  “What did they want?” Smitty’s eyes gleamed in the dim light.

  “Information. I didn’t talk.”

  “Used the worms on you, did they?” Smitty shook his head while Paz struggled to a sitting position. “I’m sorry to say I took one look at those nasty things and fainted. That’s all it took to get me to cooperate. You won’t tell anyone, will you? As far as you know, I withstood days of torture before I cracked.”

  “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

  The dwarf thrust his chin forward. “It takes courage to face each day in this place, and I’ve been here for months.”

  “Yes, you’re very brave, Smitty.” Paz gave him a curious glance. “What do they want with you, anyway?”

  Smitty glanced away. “We used to create magic objects for the gods in the old days. Now the Trolleks force me to turn bricks into gold. They need it for commerce in your world.”

  “Really? I thought alchemy was just a myth. You happen to have any tools on you?”

  Smitty gave him a sly grin. “As a matter of fact, I stole a chisel. I’ve been digging a tunnel. It’s slow going, and my back is killing me. Now that you’re here, you can help.”

  “I’ll do better than that. We can use your tool to bust the lock on the door. It’s pretty rusty.”

  “And pretty secure. I already tried.” Smitty stroked his bearded jaw. “There’s a wooden bar on the other side. We wouldn’t be able to lift it, even if we were able to dislodge the lock. And the only way they provide food is through that hinged door on the bottom.”

  “Hmm.” Paz considered their options. He could pretend to be sick or dead and have Smitty summon assistance. But the guards might be wary of that old trick.

  He could attack next time they came to drag him out for interrogation, but he wouldn’t have much chance against their shock sticks without a weapon of his own. Besides, he couldn't wait that long. Who knew what they were doing to Jen in the interim? He couldn’t even go there. Thinking of her being interrogated would derail him.

  “I have an idea. Isn’t pure gold very malleable? What if you turn the door into gold, and we kick it in?”

  Smitty shook his head. “Too thick. Wouldn’t work.”

  “Can you change the lock into a thin layer of gold so I could punch it out with your chisel?” He rose and hobbled to the door to peer at the circular mechanism. “I think I could reach my hand through there. I might be able to move the bar on the other side.”

  Smitty raised an eyebrow. “If you fail, you’ll bring the guards down on us. Two of them are stationed in the ward room beyond the outer door.”

  “So you’ll say I forced you to do it, and I’ll take the blame.”

  “If we succeed, we’ll still have to deal with the guards.”

  Paz tapped his chin. “Let’s wait for mealtime. That’s when they’ll open the outer door and be vulnerable.”

  “How do you plan to get off the island?”

  “I’ll swim if I have to.” His brow wrinkled. “We can worry about that later. Do your thing on the door lock, my friend.�
�

  Smitty held up a hand. “I still think tunneling is the best option. There’s less chance of getting caught.”

  “Fine, you can stay here and dig after I leave.”

  “Nuh uh.” Smitty glared at him. “If you go, I go. You’re taking me with you. And I’ll only use my gift for something in return.”

  “Are you crazy? I’m not bargaining. Either you’re with me or you’re not.”

  “That’s the way it works, bozo.” Smitty stooped over to rub his toe. He wore short boots with pointy ends. “Ow, my arthritis is acting up. This dampness just aggravates it.”

  Like you aggravate me. “If I bring you along, there are two conditions.” Paz folded his arms across his chest. Two could play the same game.

  “What’s that?” Smitty eyed him suspiciously.

  “I still have to locate the rift. Do you know anything about it?”

  The bearded dwarf nodded. “There’s some sort of transfer station near the main keep. I pass it on my way to the forge. Trolleks are always coming and going there, new faces each time.”

  “I have to find Jen and then check that out before I leave.”

  Smitty’s mouth tightened. “We’ve gotta be out of here before they sound the alarm.”

  “Let’s just do it.” Paz’s patience was strung taut.

  Smitty gave him a sly glance. “I’ll take your belt buckle. It’ll make a nice addition to my collection back home.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I want your buckle in exchange for my turning the lock into gold. Give it to me! Give it to me!” Smitty hopped from foot to foot.

  “Be quiet, you’ll alert the guards.” Paz slid the buckle off his belt and handed it over. “There, are you happy?”

  Smitty stuck the shiny item into his baggy pants pocket. Then he lumbered toward the door.

  “This requires concentration. Don’t interrupt.”

  Waving his hands in front of the door lock, Smitty squeezed his eyes shut and recited a string of unintelligible words. Dust glittered in the air and settled on the lock. Before Paz’s astonished gaze, the mechanism changed to gold.