The Drow There and Nothing More (Goth Drow Book 3)

by Martha Carr

  Marsil and Dr. Boseley had moved around the clearing to make room for the others. Cheyenne glanced at Ember, then went toward the goblin assistant. “I thought you and I reached an understanding yesterday. That included not telling people about any of this.”

  “We did, Cheyenne.” Marsil smiled politely at her, though a small frown flickered across his brows. “I was invited.”

  “You what?”

  L’zar laughed and stepped forward as another half-dozen magicals appeared in the clearing. “We do have to keep this quiet. Mostly. But I couldn’t let you go through this without something of an audience. That’s the best part.”

  “An audience.” Cheyenne stepped away from Marsil and stared at the quickly growing crowd lining the edge of the clearing. Those in front had to step forward to make room for the newcomers. “I don’t know any of these magicals.” She squinted at the newest people emerging from the portals. What’s happening?

  R’mahr, Yadje, and their daughter Bryl grinned when they saw Cheyenne beneath the huge tree. Bryl bounced on her toes and waved. The halfling smiled and waved back, then scanned the other faces. That has to be Tony, and he’s an orc.

  Scowling, Corian stepped toward L’zar and lowered his voice. “You sent invitations.”

  “Yes, Corian.” The drow smiled at all the newcomers and didn’t bother to look his friend in the eye. “Relax. I only sent a few.”

  “Really? Because they keep showing up, and I’m counting close to eighty right now.”

  A large portal opened behind Marsil, and Gúrdu’s hulking gray form stepped through. Maleshi laughed when she saw him. “You too, huh?”

  The raug Oracle’s orange-brown eyes narrowed at the nightstalker general. “I’m not here for you,” he growled, but a low rumble of laughter escaped him as he walked away from the Nimlothar tree to take his place among the other witnesses.

  The clearing buzzed with hushed voices and eager conversation, everyone staring at the Nimlothar tree and the drow halfling standing beside her awed fae friend in the wheelchair.

  L’zar cocked his head and shrugged. “Oops.”

  Corian hissed. “That’s not an answer.”

  “They’re excited. Word spreads quickly around here.” The drow turned toward his Nós Aní and raised an eyebrow. “They could use something to look forward to, don’t you think?”

  “You should’ve been more selective.” Corian folded his arms and took a deep breath, scanning the crowd. “This many of them in one place is asking for trouble.”

  “We can handle trouble, brother. Let it go and enjoy yourself.”

  The nightstalker grumbled something unintelligible, and when he caught Cheyenne listening to the conversation, he shook his head and turned away.

  She kept watching him and didn’t miss the exasperated glance he shot Maleshi. The war general grinned at him and spread her arms.

  “So much for feeling ridiculous in front of five other magicals in a warehouse,” Ember muttered.

  “Sorry, Em. I had no idea it was happening like this.”

  The fae glanced up at her friend with an unsure smile. “But it’s happening.”

  “Yeah. Whatever it is.”

  L’zar glanced at Cheyenne. “You’ll do the rest of this as a drow.”

  Nodding quickly, Cheyenne summoned the flare of her magic up the base of her spine, and she made the transformation in front of everyone.

  Her father spread his arms wide and cocked his head. “Let’s begin.”

  Chapter Sixty-One

  “Seeing as things are a little different for this binding, I hope nobody holds it against me if I ditch the old tongue for one that’s more realm-appropriate.” L’zar grinned as the crowd of magicals chuckled politely.

  Corian stood behind him and to the side, his arms folded and his scowl ceaseless as he kept a wary eye on every dark shadow within the clearing.

  “Today, we bind a drow and her Nós Aní, chosen in friendship and full awareness of what this binding entails. The fae Ember Gaderow, and the drow Cheyenne Summerlin, my daughter.” L’zar gestured to each in turn and chuckled. “The only thing I’d change is the last name in that announcement, but I suppose I can’t win ‘em all, right?”

  Another round of soft laughter came in response, though it was tense and unsure. Cheyenne glanced at Maleshi, who closed her eyes and shook her head.

  L’zar smiled at his daughter, then lifted his chin. His voice was like a cracking whip across the clearing. “The old laws still stand, even in this world. Blood from the heart of Ambar’ogúl draws like to like. The mór edhil still stand as they were meant to be, and the Nós Aní stand beside them.”

  Without needing a cue from L’zar, Corian knelt in front of the silver pitcher and poured a dark, shimmering liquid into each of the goblets. The clearing was so silent, even those standing at the farthest edges could hear the drink trickling into the cups.

  L’zar sank to his knees in front of the goblets and picked up the dagger.

  “By the power running through my veins and yours, Cheyenne, I give my blessing.” Staring up at his daughter, he wrapped his other hand around the blade and pulled, slicing his palm open. Blood poured from his clenched fist, which he held over one goblet and then the other, adding a few drops to each. The dagger fell to the damp grass, and he passed his hand over the cut in his other palm. Cheyenne saw the wound heal quickly beneath the golden light glowing behind his hands. Then L’zar grabbed the silver goblets and set one foot forward in the grass, his other knee planted firmly while he leaned toward Cheyenne and Ember. “Drink.”

  This is so creepy.

  The halfling stared at her father’s wide, eager eyes above his knowing grin. She and Ember glanced at each other, then Ember reached out to take the goblet in front of her. Cheyenne did the same, gazing into the shimmering black liquid within the cup. “All of it?”

  “As much as you can stand,” L’zar muttered. “Do it.”

  The girls lifted the goblets to their lips at the same time. Cheyenne’s nose tingled with the scent of blueberries, eucalyptus, and the undertone of blood rising from other odors she couldn’t distinguish. The drink was overly sweet and bitter at the same time, and she got down two swallows before she couldn’t handle any more.

  Ember gulped and sounded like she was choking before she pulled away from the goblet and grimaced.

  L’zar nodded and reached for the cups again. Then he set them on the ground and rose to his feet. “You’ll repeat after me. Together.”

  The fae snorted and immediately covered her mouth to hide a smile.

  Cheyenne shot her a sidelong glance. We called this part.

  L’zar raised an eyebrow and decided to ignore their inside joke. “By the old laws and the heartblood of Ambar’ogúl, we are bound.”

  Cheyenne and Ember took deep breaths and repeated his words in unison. “By the old laws and the heartblood of Ambar’ogúl, we are bound.”

  An explosion of brilliant silver light burst from Cheyenne’s and Ember’s chests the second the last word left their lips. It lit the clearing like a flare, and Cheyenne heard her friend’s startled gasp and realized she’d made a similar sound. The light crackled and burst away from them, twirling up in a long column before it darted into the illusion of the darkly glowing Nimlothar tree. The tree’s bark pulsed brighter, let out a blinding flash, and then darkened again.

  L’zar stared at the tree and cocked his head, his voice ringing out in the stunned silence that had overtaken the gathered magicals in the clearing. “Huh.”

  “Cheyenne.” Ember leaned forward in her chair. “I feel weird.”

  “Yeah, that whole thing was weird.” The halfling stared at the tree, then glanced down at her drow father, who was still craning his neck toward the branches.

  L’zar finally turned and shrugged. “I didn’t expect that to happen.”

  “What?”

  “It’s fine.” He waved her off and shot the tree another confused look. “Som
e Nimlothar somewhere responded to this ceremony and accepted your Nós Aní like it would have in the old days, so we have that going for us.”

  Corian shook his head and scowled. “There’s only one left, L’zar.”

  Cheyenne swallowed. “It’s with the Crown, right?”

  Her father pursed his lips and tilted his head from side to side. “Yep.”

  “So now she knows what we just did.”

  “Probably.” He clicked his tongue with a remarkably high level of casual apathy. “An unforeseen consequence. But congratulations. You and your Nós Aní are bound.”

  Cheyenne gritted her teeth and glanced at Corian, who stared at L’zar and looked like he wanted to stab the drow in the back. I’m feeling the same thing right now.

  Ember rubbed her temple. “What’s going on?”

  The Nimlothar that was supposed to have been nothing more than an illusion flashed again, its sputtering light blinking brighter and faster until the entire thing disappeared. The illusion around the clearing cut off abruptly, and everyone was dazzled with the sudden intensity of real sunlight instead of the dome of fake night overhead. The crowd of magicals shifted uneasily and looked around, talking to each other in low voices.

  Cheyenne glared at L’zar. “What did you do?”

  “What did I do? That was your power, Cheyenne, and it was very impressive.”

  Someone shouted a warning, and they all turned to see a dark portal crackling open inside the tree line of the clearing. Three more burst into existence, then a dozen dark ovals of light ringed the clearing. The air around them wavered like heat rising from hot cement, then more magicals poured through the portals.

  Screams broke out as the first of the Crown’s loyalists launched attack spells. Cheyenne saw a bull’s head sewn onto the shoulder of the closest orc’s shirt as he hurled a ball of searing green flames into the crowd. “Shit.”

  She reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out the activator, and slapped it on behind her ear. By the time she’d refocused her vision with the advanced technology’s extra kick, Persh’al, Byrd, and Lumil had jumped into action. They ran toward the loyalists spilling through the open portals, tossing attack spells at them.

  Maleshi vanished in a flash of silver light and darted across the clearing. Loyalists choked and cried out, dropping left and right as she took out those closest to the crowd of innocent magicals too terrified to fight back.

  A whirring buzz filled the air and dozens of small, black metal orbs whizzed through the portals, unleashing yellow sparks on the crowd. They lit up in Cheyenne’s vision like flares, and the activator locked onto one after the other as she shot rounds of purple sparks at the flying machines, blasting them from the air.

  “Over here!” Corian gestured toward the huge portal he’d summoned where the Nimlothar illusion had stood. “Into the portal!”

  He lunged forward and slashed his elongated claws into the throat of a snarling skaxen leaping at him.

  Lumil and Byrd took up the cry, waving for the crowd to run toward Corian’s portal as they fought the loyalists tearing after them. The red, spiraling magic around Lumil’s fists buried itself in chests and heads, sending snarling loyalists flying.

  Magicals ran in every direction, screaming and shouting and trying not to get hit in the crossfire. Cheyenne focused on the flying machines, launching attack after attack at them as fast as she could.

  One of them darted away from her magic at the last second and swooped toward Ember. The halfling spun around and saw her friend leaning forward, oblivious. Cheyenne blasted the machine, sending shattered fragments all over Ember’s back and the top of her head. “Em, what’s—”

  A huge body slammed into her from the side and knocked her to the ground. Grunting, Cheyenne rolled onto her back as the stumbling orc loyalist sneered at her and raised two hands filled with black light dripping some foul sludge into the grass. She reached out with both hands, and her black lashing tendrils whipped toward him. They coiled around his wrists before she jerked her arms sideways and sent him reeling into Byrd’s back. The goblin turned with a roar and pummeled the orc with fists and flaring bursts of orange light.

  Scrambling to her feet, Cheyenne scanned the clearing for more of the flying machines. Only one more remained, and she hurled a hissing arc of purple sparks at it. Green flames streaked in front of her toward the terrified magicals darting across the clearing, and she raised two shields between the innocent bystanders and the barrage of crackling attacks. She recognized Marsil, who glanced at her with wide eyes before ushering Dr. Boseley toward Corian’s open portal.

  Gúrdu bellowed on the other side of the clearing, pummeling through attacking loyalists with his fists and sending them flying like startled birds. Persh’al’s green whip crackled and sparked, and Maleshi streaked back and forth across the clearing in a silver-and-black blur.

  A low, ominous rumble came from Cheyenne’s right. She spun that way and scanned the open loyalist portals. The ground rumbled with an oncoming war machine seconds before her activator located the thing coming from the farthest portal. It was as tall as she was, covered in thick metal spikes as it rolled through the portal like a miniature tank. Flashing blue lights blinked around the perimeter of what looked like a swiveling head. A window opened and unleashed a red burst of magic into the center of the clearing that tore into the ground, scattering grass and clods of dirt and magicals from both sides.

  Cheyenne scanned the data scrolling across her vision. The machine’s swiveling head turned its blinking lights toward her and fired again. She threw up a shield with both hands, and the red attack blasted it, shoving her back across the ground as it roared against the dark light of her shield.

  “Take it down!” Persh’al shouted, dodging a snarling skaxen before lashing the creature in the back with his whip.

  Lumil and Byrd ran toward the war machine, but it opened fire with smaller windows on its sides and sprayed crackling red light like bullets.

  Weak points. Find the weak points.

  Cheyenne stared at the war machine rumbling across the grass, immune to the magical attacks her friends unleashed. A blinking yellow light lit up at the base of the machine, and she summoned a sphere of her crackling black energy. An ogre lumbered toward her, letting out a fierce battle cry, and she sent the orb into his face instead. Her other hand launched another sphere at the machine, which lit up with purple and black sparks before fading again, to no effect.

  That’s not gonna work.

  The halfling sent snaking black tendrils at a grotesquely scarred goblin racing after the last of the innocent onlookers hobbling toward Corian’s portal. They wound around his throat and jerked him back, and the goblin croaked and slammed into the ground as the last terrified troll woman ran past Corian and through his portal to safety. The nightstalker closed the portal, nodded at Cheyenne, and darted across the clearing in a flash of silver light.

  The O’gúl war tank fired again, hitting more loyalists than Cheyenne’s friends. She focused her activator-enhanced vision on the scrolling data and the machine’s moving parts. Another command blinked at her, and she cocked her head. Or I could just take it apart.

  Without having to think about it, the halfling swiped the command in her vision, and a welded piece of the machine’s siding squealed, rippling until it ripped free and hurtled into the trees. Cheyenne stepped toward the thing, searching for the next command that would let her pull the tank apart piece by piece. More red explosions burst from the window between the tank’s blinking lights and she dodged what she could, occasionally throwing up shields to protect the others between ripping off more parts.

  Behind her and four yards away from where Ember sat in her wheelchair, the sky darkened. Ember turned away from the battle to look at the crackling, hissing black portal ten times the size of the others opening where the Nimlothar illusion had been. The fae’s eyes widened as a rolling crack like thunder emerged from the portal, blasting Ember’s hair away from h
er face with a numbing cold wind. “Cheyenne!”

  “Little busy, Em.” The halfling launched two spheres of black energy at two goblins scrambling toward her, knocking them off their feet before they crashed into the trees at the edge of the clearing.

  “Yeah, I know, but this looks bad.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Cheyenne turned away from the war machine and froze when she saw the hissing, sparking outline of the massive portal in the air. Like the first time I trained with Corian. That one’s coming straight from the other side.

  “Shouldn’t you do something?” Ember shouted, trying to get the attention of the other rebel magicals. They were all busy fighting the loyalists, and Cheyenne took a few steps closer to her friend before having to throw up another wide shield beneath the war machine’s next artillery blast.

  “Yeah, probably. Corian!”

  The nightstalker dropped out of his enhanced speed at her shout and looked at the massive portal. His silver eyes widened, then he raced toward the ogre he was fighting and threw a spray of magical spikes at him. The ogre bellowed and crashed to the ground but somehow managed to snag the nightstalker by the ankle. Corian growled and turned to fight the hulking loyalist off.

  The war machine angled toward Cheyenne, and the activator helped her rip two more handfuls of its inner parts through the gaping hole in its side. A chorus of dark, wailing voices came through the growing portal from Ambar’ogúl, and Cheyenne blinked beneath the wave of déjà vu washing over her. I’ve heard that before.

  A skaxen leaped at her, shrieking with laughter as his long claws slashed toward her face. She blasted him back with telekinetic force and focused on the war machine, which launched another red magical bomb across the clearing. Take that thing down first, then I can deal with the rest.

  Ember glanced at the crackling portal, which was still emitting the dark chant in a chorus of otherworldly voices. Does no one get that this thing is the biggest issue right now?