by Martha Carr
“That’s how it opens, Cheyenne. That word from your lips.” L’zar’s eyebrows jerked up and back down again as he dipped his head. “Do it.”
The halfling scanned the five magicals watching her like a pack of starving wolves before returning her focus to the drow legacy box. Here goes nothing.
“Palimé.”
The Cuil Aní warmed quickly in her hand, though it didn’t get too hot for her to hold this time. The glowing runes emitted a brilliant flash of gold light, then the whirring mechanisms inside clicked and whined, moving faster and faster.
Seriously, if this is a bomb, I’m throwing it at L’zar.
The sliding layers forming the top of the box pulled away from each other to jut over the outside, and after they’d separated, Cheyenne blinked at the thing inside.
“What is it?” Lumil whispered.
The halfling glanced at the goblin woman, then reached into the legacy box and picked up the large gold coin lying on the bottom. She lifted it and cocked her head as she lowered the puzzle box to her side. “A coin?”
L’zar’s wild, predatory grin returned. “Yes.”
She waved it in a small circle. “This is ridiculously anticlimactic.”
“Only until you know what that coin is for.”
The warehouse fell silent. Cheyenne dropped the coin back into the box and set it down on the table beside her backpack. “So, what does this drow coin buy me?”
L’zar chuckled and exchanged glances with Corian. “It’s not just a coin, Cheyenne. That is the next step in claiming your legacy.”
“I thought the thing inside the box was my legacy.”
“Part of it, sure.” The escaped drow convict drew his fingers through his bone-white hair and inhaled deeply through his nose. “The Cuil Aní is just a guide through your trials. That coin, your marandúr, is the token of your legacy. Normally this would be done in Ambar’ogúl, where you’d present it to the Crown and assume your station as a fully dedicated drow.”
“Ha.” Cheyenne glanced at the coin. “Looks like we’re out of luck with that one. No way is that gonna happen.”
L’zar’s golden eyes blazed. “Oh, but it is.”
Chapter Five
“What?” Cheyenne glanced at the other magicals gathered around her and pointed at her drow father. “Someone needs to tell this guy he’s lost his mind.”
Corian dipped his head. “Just listen.”
“In order for you to claim your true power and what’s rightfully yours by birth, Cheyenne, that marandúr must be placed in the Rahalma altar in the courtyard of the Crown’s fortress.” L’zar steepled his fingers and pointed them at her. “And you’re the only person in either world who can do that.”
“No. Sorry.”
Lumil grimaced. Persh’al rubbed his bald, orange-speckled head beside the neon-orange mohawk sprouting out of it. Byrd turned toward his fist and forced out an uncomfortable cough.
“It isn’t something you can turn down.” L’zar’s smile faded, but the intensity of his gaze on the half-drow remained. “You don’t have a choice.”
“Right. Because the Crown wants me to claim this new legacy.”
“It’s the same legacy, Cheyenne.”
“Whatever. The drow in power over there has been sending magical nutjobs after me for weeks to stop me from completing the trials.” The halfling folded her arms and shook her head. “You’re right. I don’t have a choice, ‘cause no way in hell is she gonna let me just waltz into her fancy castle and stick a coin on some whatever-it’s-called.”
“The Rahalma. The drow altar.”
“Sure. You said she has every drow on that side come to her to pass their trials, right? I broke the rules by passing mine over here, and she knows who I am.”
“That won’t make a difference once you deliver that coin.”
Cheyenne glanced at the now-tense magicals surrounding her and blinked. “Did everybody forget about the new portals opening up and the shipments of O’gúl war-machine parts her people have been smuggling over here? Because that seems a hell of a lot more important than me dropping a coin on an altar.”
The corners of L’zar’s mouth twitched as he stared at her.
Oh, he’s pissed now, huh? Join the club.
“Cheyenne.” Corian’s low voice cut through the tension. “Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. We’ll deal with the portal issue as we can, and we’re working on the war-machine issue.” He glanced at the supply closet. “Needless to say, the road to claiming your legacy is gonna be a little bumpy.”
“No shit.”
“But you taking your marandúr into the Crown’s seat of power and returning it to where it belongs will do far more for this war than anything we can achieve from over here. If we time it right, it might even stop the devastation before it begins.”
“It’s already happening.” Cheyenne swallowed. “A portal opened in my mom’s backyard and brought those things right to her. You said the war’s already started.”
“That was nothing compared to what’s coming.”
She frowned at her nightstalker mentor, then glanced quickly at L’zar and had to look away. That stare is freaking me out. “I thought the marandúr was mine. What do you mean I have to put it back where it belongs?”
Byrd chuckled and spread his arms. “Because you’re—”
“Because you’re my daughter, Cheyenne,” L’zar finished for him. The goblin cocked his head and looked at the floor. “Because the Crown of Ambar’ogúl has dipped itself in pestilence, and I mean to root it out. As my daughter, it falls to you to do the same.”
“No.” The halfling slowly shook her head, her dark human eyes burning into his golden drow gaze. “I’ll help with this war if that’s what it comes to, and if taking some coin to an O’gúl altar is how I have to do that, fine. But I’ll do it because I choose to, not because I’m your daughter.”
L’zar’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped toward her on long, swift legs before setting a slender hand on her shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself, I guess it’s a good start.”
Then he crossed in front of her and headed toward the sunken brown couch that looked like it hadn’t been moved or cleaned in decades and flopped down onto it, lifting both legs to sprawl across the cushions.
Cheyenne scowled. He doesn’t know the first thing about me because he doesn’t want to.
When she glanced at Corian, the nightstalker was studying the sprawled L’zar Verdys, who looked like he could have been sleeping if neither of them knew better. Then her mentor met her gaze, frowned, and gave her a curt nod.
“So.” Byrd clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. “We getting back to the interrogation, or what?”
“Not when he’s passed out like that.” Lumil punched the goblin man in the shoulder.
“Oh, right. Like you don’t have anything up your sleeve to pound him back to consciousness.”
“You know what? Maybe my fists need a break. You ever think of that?”
“No, because you never give them a break.”
As the goblins bickered, Persh’al turned toward his computer monitor to type furiously while code Cheyenne couldn’t read scrolled across the screen.
Corian approached Cheyenne with his hands thrust into his pockets and spared a final glance at L’zar. “This is a big deal for all of us, kid. Especially him. He doesn’t show it, but he’s proud of you too.”
“I didn’t come here for anyone’s approval.”
“I know.”
Cheyenne pulled her gaze away from her motionless father and nodded at the Cuil Aní. “What is that coin, really?”
“Exactly what we said it is. The old laws still stand, Cheyenne. I know you’ve heard that so many times, it’s probably lost its meaning.”
She snorted. “It didn’t have any to begin with.”
The nightstalker nodded. “It will. But we’re not exaggerating when we say
you taking your marandúr to the Rahalma on the other side will help us protect the humans over here and all the magicals who came Earthside fleeing what’s left of Ambar’ogúl. Who knows, you might just have a bigger part to play in liberating the O’gúleesh who chose to stay home. It’s hard to predict everything.”
“And I have to go put that thing on an altar?”
“You and no one else.”
The halfling ran a hand through her black hair. “Any plan for how we’re gonna pull off something like that?”
Corian smirked. “We’re working on it.”
“Fine!” Lumil spread her arms and thrust her head toward Byrd, who flinched away from her aggressive lunge. “I’ll go get the damn traitor and knock his lights back on. But if he starts talking gibberish, that’s on you.”
The goblin woman stalked across the warehouse, shaking her head.
“Stop.” L’zar’s one-word command was soft, his eyes still closed, but it held enough power to make Lumil freeze on the other side of the couch. “Let him be for a little longer. Tell me what we got out of him so far.”
“Right.” Lumil cleared her throat and tugged down the bottom of her jacket. “That asshole’s been smuggling O’gúl technology across the Border piece by piece. Best we can figure out, it’s been over the last hundred years at least.”
“And he’s figured out how to make the machine parts work with Earthside tech,” Byrd added. “Which is supposed to be, like, impossible.”
“Obviously not.” Persh’al stood from hunching over his keyboard and turned to face the group. “It’s all old-school tech from more than two cycles ago, from looking at what we snagged from that new portal. We already know the new O’gúl tech doesn’t make the crossing, so I’m trying to figure out what the exact components are that do make it across. I still don’t have a clue how that scaly fucker got it all to sync with the dying breed of Earthside relics these humans call cutting-edge.”
Cheyenne smirked. “Accurate description, honestly.”
The blue troll shot her a skeptical look. “You think so?”
“I haven’t found a system I can’t crack into yet. I might be able to help you if I could read any of that.” She pointed at the O’gúleesh code flashing across his screen in white, blue, and green.
Persh’al chuckled. “That’s one more thing we don’t have time for, kid. And I’ll tell you what, I sure as shit don’t have the qualifications or the patience to teach anyone how to read O’gúleesh.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
“We’ll figure it out. Just takes a little reverse-engineering and some thinking outside the box.” Persh’al thumped his chest with his fist. “But I’ve been here a hell of a lot longer than that scaly bastard’s been smuggling over tiny tech parts in his lizardy boxer shorts. I’m willing to bet my right hand that I know more about Earthside tech than he does.”
Lumil snorted. “Aren’t you right-handed?”
“Yeah. So?”
“I mean, don’t you need that one?”
Byrd sniggered until he stepped back against the table being used as a desk.
Persh’al pointed at him. “Watch it, man.”
“Yeah, yeah. My bad.”
Cheyenne shook her head and looked at Corian. “So, what do we do now?”
The nightstalker scratched behind his tufted ear. “Well, the first step is to make sure the Crown doesn’t find out about L’zar being out. For as long as possible, anyway. We can’t keep it a secret forever, and when she does find out, she’ll double her efforts to take you down however she can.”
“Because he found a way around the prophecy, right?”
Corian squinted at her over a slow, knowing smile. “You put those pieces together fast, don’t you?”
“When I have the pieces? Damn straight, I do.”
His nose wrinkled for a split second when she said it, and Cheyenne looked away to give him a minute. At least he didn’t have to break his promise not to give me those pieces. She glanced at Lumil and Byrd, who’d started bickering again over which one of them had eaten the most Crunchwrap Supremes from their last Taco Bell run. We’ve got Thing One and Thing Two to thank for that.
“And now that she’s passed the trials,” L’zar said from the couch as if he’d been part of their conversation the whole time, “the Heart of Midnight isn’t going to work for shit. She needs protection. That’s why I cut my sentence short.”
“I still don’t get why you thought that was necessary,” Cheyenne muttered. “It feels like a bigger risk to have you running around wherever you want and almost tossing nice new cars off the road.”
Corian shot her a confused look, and she shook her head.
“I made a call, Cheyenne.” L’zar still hadn’t opened his eyes, his hands folded behind his head over the armrest. “You passed your trials. That means every O’gúl loyalist will know by the end of the day if they don’t already. The Crown wants you, one way or another. Option A is she brings you across and offers you a place in her ranks. Option B is she sends someone to slit your throat and ship your head to her throne in a fancy gift-wrapped box.”
“Jesus.” The halfling grimaced.
“She’s done it before.” The drow didn’t move. “And she hasn’t even sent her worst after you. I need to be here to keep you safe when she does because she will, eventually.”
“Well,” Cheyenne said, “I mean, I guess I appreciate you wanting to step in and defend me, or whatever. But I don’t see how you can protect me all the time when you’re supposed to be hidden. And trust me, I get attacked pretty much everywhere these days. Someone’s bound to recognize you sooner or later.”
“Corian?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s the nalís?”
“With everything else I own.” The nightstalker shot Cheyenne an amused glance and rolled his eyes. “I’ll get it.”
“Do.” L’zar sat up in one swift, fluid movement, his long legs sweeping onto the warehouse floor with an ease that should have been impossible under the circumstances. He leaned forward, propped his forearms on his thighs, and met his daughter’s gaze. Then he blew a lock of straight bone-white hair out of his face and wiggled his eyebrows once.
I can’t figure it out. He either doesn’t give a shit about anything but his next private joke, or he cares about everything so much that it’s all the same thing.
She folded her arms and turned away from him to watch Corian. The nightstalker’s fingers finished their swift, efficient gestures before a portal opened into the single room of the basement labeled Apartment D. The portal stayed open even after Corian had stepped through, and the magicals in the warehouse watched him rummaging through metal shelving filled with all kinds of junk.
L’zar chuckled. “You’ve really been living in style, haven’t you?”
Corian tossed aside a rolled-up piece of cloth and slid away a box of candles, then reached into a worn boot behind it and pulled out a small, lidded tin. The portal closed swiftly behind him after he stepped back through, and he shot L’zar a cursory glance. “It’s a hell of a lot better than a prison cell. I’ll tell you that much.”
The drow’s smile returned, and he lifted his chin, staring at the tin in the nightstalker’s hand. “I know magicals who would sell their souls to get into your stash.”
“Many have tried.” With a raised eyebrow, Corian pulled the lid off the tin and drew out a small pin in the shape of a smooth, round leaf. It was half the size of a dime and glinted under the warehouse’s dusty lighting. “This should work.”
“Yes, it should.” L’zar pushed himself to his feet and approached his daughter and the nightstalker, holding out his palm. Corian dropped the pin neatly into the purple-gray hand, and the drow closed his fingers around whatever it was with a nod. “How are you with spellwork, Cheyenne?”
The seriousness of his question and the fancy air he put on while holding that tiny pin made her burst out laughing. L’zar glanced at Corian,
who shook his head with a small shrug.
“What’s so funny?”
“Ask Corian.” Cheyenne doubled over again, snorting with laughter, and stuck her thumb out toward the nightstalker. “He’ll give you a more accurate answer.”
Corian clicked his tongue and stared at her until she’d pulled herself back together. Another snicker escaped her and she turned away from him, pressing her fist against her mouth. I’ll lose it if I see his face when he answers that one.
“Well?” L’zar raised an eyebrow.
The nightstalker tilted his head, turning down the corners of his mouth to keep from chuckling too. “Cheyenne’s incredibly proficient with her innate abilities.”
“Of course she is. She passed the trials. That’s not what I asked.”
Corian cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t advise her to cast spells if she has a choice.” He shook his head.
Cheyenne barked another laugh and stumbled backward, doubling over once more in silent, breathless laughter. Corian snorted, then his low, rumbling chuckle filled the warehouse as he watched her fall into hysterics. He looked back up at the scowling L’zar and shrugged. “Her spellwork’s shit.”
The drow raised an eyebrow at Cheyenne, who howled again and walked across the warehouse to get away from the conversation. “Then it looks like I finally get to teach her something.”
Chapter Six
Cheyenne stared at the leaf-shaped pin in L’zar’s open palm. He raised an eyebrow and tossed his head toward his side of the couch. “You can sit a little closer, Cheyenne. I don’t bite.”
“No, I’m good.” She clasped her hands together, unaware that she’d mimicked her father’s casual position, forearms propped on her thighs, head sunken a little between her shoulders. “What’s that do?”
“This will allow me to get to you quickly no matter where you are if you find yourself in a situation where a little backup would come in useful.”
“Assuming I can cast a spell when I need to, right?”
L’zar shook his head. “No. The only spellwork this needs will happen right here. The nalís will do the rest.”