by Martha Carr
“Yes, Cheyenne, the information your terrified neighbor gave us was accurate, and yes, we did what had to be done in the last twenty-four hours to clean up that war-machine mess before we head out. Is that what you were wondering?”
“Yeah. What did you have to do?”
Maleshi shrugged. “We decided to follow your advice. A fun little cell for the loyalists heading their individual operations, and a lot of toys for Persh’al to pick apart at his leisure.” The general focused on conjuring her portal, and Cheyenne glanced quickly at Ember.
They did listen. No slitting throats or handing out death sentences. For now.
The portal opened in front of Maleshi and she stepped aside, gesturing for Ember to wheel through first.
“What are you guys gonna do with them after this?” Cheyenne asked. “The loyalists.”
“Honestly, kid, we haven’t thought that far ahead. We have more important things to focus on now, and all of them require your head to be in the game.” Maleshi’s lips curled in a slow smile. “Which I’m assuming it still is. We can figure out what to do with the few dozen prisoners we locked up when we get back.”
“Okay.” Cheyenne nodded at Ember before the fae girl took a deep breath and wheeled through the portal. “Someone’s keeping an eye on them, right?”
“Well, he’s not happy about it, but he chose to stay behind, so the responsibility falls on him.”
“Who?”
They walked through the portal into the warehouse. “Persh’al. I believe the best argument he could come up with against being a jailor for a day or two was that he only knows how to maintain computer systems, but I’m willing to bet his conscience will be enough to remind him to feed and water the magicals in the basement.”
“I heard that,” Persh’al called from the other side of the warehouse.
Cheyenne turned and froze when she saw the two battered carcasses of the digger machines they’d torn apart yesterday. “This was your solution for cleanup? Bring them to the warehouse?”
Corian chuckled. “I’m starting to run out of room in my apartment. The place can only keep so much junk.”
“That had nothing to do with it.” Persh’al stood from his chair on the other side of his computer table and pointed at the nightstalker man. “But here you are, trying to take all the credit again. After a few centuries, you’d think I’d stop being surprised by it.”
“Or stop being so bitter about it, at the very least.”
The blue troll waved Corian off and walked around the three tables connected in a squared-off U. “Everyone’s trying to take credit for something, aren’t they? And you.” He pointed at Cheyenne and cocked his head. “You stole all my thunder when you found the source of those programs, halfling. Half of me wants to rip you apart for that, and the other half wants to give you a fell-damn trophy.”
“Thanks. I think.” Cheyenne adjusted the straps of her backpack and shrugged. “The activator did most of the work.”
“Obviously.” Persh’al stopped beside the war machines in the center of the warehouse and folded his arms. “But you know how to work both, and you’re the only one of us who can wear that thing and get any use out of it Earthside. I’m gonna give you this one moment of credit, and then I’m gonna ask you to please, please just let me keep doing my job over here. I’m the tech guy. You’re the halfling warrior.”
She snorted.
“No, seriously. There’s a very firm line between our responsibilities. Quit steppin’ into my bubble, kid.”
“Good to see you too.”
Persh’al grinned at her. “I know it’s only been two days, but it feels like forever. And now you’re going back.”
“Yeah, I’m a little surprised you aren’t.”
“Nah. I’ve been on a battlefield, but I’m not cut out for this whole ‘storming the castle’ thing. In this case, that will be pretty much literal. Someone has to keep an eye on what happens when all of you make the crossing and the Earthside eyes on us go dark.”
The back door squealed open as Byrd and Lumil stepped inside. “You’re here already, huh? Nice.”
Lumil cracked her knuckles as they approached the group gathered beside the machines. “Damn. I’ve been looking forward to this since the day you walked in here, looking all dazed and confused.”
Byrd sniggered.
Cheyenne smiled at the goblin woman. “You mean, less than two weeks ago?”
“Fair enough. Been waitin’ a long time to bring this fiery fist back to Ambar’ogúl, but yeah. After the last two weeks, halfling, I’m even more excited to be doin’ it right next to you.”
“Yeah, glad you’re coming.”
“Are you kidding me?” Byrd flexed his hands by his sides and cocked his head. “Wouldn’t miss a battle for anything. Not the one that’s coming.”
“You mean, the one we’re bringing,” Lumil corrected.
“Hey, come on. How’s that an important distinction right now?”
“Because it’s our battle, and we’re taking it to that bitch at the center of Hangivol.” The goblin woman jerkily shook her head at him in disbelief, her short yellow hair flopping over her forehead. “The battle’s not coming, we are.”
“Oh, so that’s what you’re so concerned about? You think we’ll mess the whole thing up if we don’t talk about it the right way?”
Corian closed his eyes and let out a long hiss. “I’m gonna kill them.”
“When the hell did you start caring so much about logistics, anyway?”
“Since you convinced me how wrong you are.”
“Then how ‘bout this? I like to fight! You wanna bring the battle now?”
“No!” Persh’al leaped toward them, waving his hands. “You do not get to fight inside. Those are the damn rules. And if either of you even thinks about throwing a single explosive punch, I’ll whip you back into last century, got it? I’m still studying these machines, and I’m not about to let you two nagging greenskins screw that up. You break it, you buy it.”
“Oh, that’s interesting.” Lumil widened her eyes. “You put a price tag on these things?”
“Yeah. Your life. So will you please shut up or get the hell back outside to settle it there?”
The goblins glanced at each other and burst out laughing.
“Uh-huh. Yeah. Very funny.” Persh’al glared at them, then glanced at Cheyenne and waved for her to follow him. “Come on, kid. I wanna show you a little side project before you and the idiot squad head out.”
“Sure.” Cheyenne and Ember exchanged looks, then the halfling followed Persh’al back to his computer monitors on the center table.
Lumil jerked her chin at Ember and folded her arms. “You’re coming with us too, huh?”
Ember cocked her head. “What tipped you off? Was it the backpack?”
Byrd burst into wheezing laughter, doubling over and pounding a fist on his thigh.
“I have no idea what he thinks is so funny.” Lumil glared at him. “But I like the way you dish it out, fae. If I hadn’t seen you at the ceremony the other day, I’d probably ask if you can dish out the same way in a fight.”
“Well, I’m working on it.”
“Uh-huh. You’re not working on anything. You’ll be fine.”
Byrd wiped tears from his eyes and blew out a long breath. “Whew. You got me, fae. Keep that up. Helps pass the time while we’re waiting for our practically immortal leader to make an appearance.”
“Yeah, what’s he doing in there anyway?” Lumil gestured at the closed door of the built-in office at the back of the warehouse. “You said we were ready to go.”
Corian raised an eyebrow at her. “We are.”
“So, what’s he doing?”
“Meditating. You should try it sometime. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to listen to you two pick each other apart.”
Byrd snorted. “That’s ridiculous. Meditating doesn’t make you allergic to arguing.”
Corian clasped his hands behind
his back and turned toward the opposite wall and the chair propped against it. “No, but when you’re meditating, you aren’t doing or saying anything else. You’re quiet.”
“Ha!” Lumil clapped her hands. “The nightstalker wants quiet, huh? Shit, if that’s all he wants, he should’ve stayed home.”
“Dude.” Byrd looked at her with wide eyes and shook his head. “That’s never gonna happen.”
“Shut up.”
Chapter Eighty-Five
Cheyenne leaned over Persh’al’s desk to study the O’gúleesh code scrolling across his center monitor.
“You brought that activator with you, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Put it on real fast.” Persh’al snorted. “Then I won’t have to explain much at all, and we’ll save ourselves a crapload of time.”
Cheyenne pulled the silver coil from her pocket, changed to her drow form, and stuck it behind her ear. The syncing pinch made her eyelids flutter, then she opened them and focused on the screen.
The blue troll laughed. “For as much as I love that tech, I sure as hell don’t miss the pinch.”
“You get used to it.”
“Ha, listen to you telling me what to get used to. Pshh.” He swiveled his desk chair toward his keyboard and typed a few commands. “Okay, this is what I want you to see. Brand-new program, sort of. Fine, it’s the reassembled parts of the system that CEO was selling like a stupid fell-damn human, but I added a few extra bits for this specific program. I’m assuming that thing translates for you even Earthside, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” Cheyenne scanned the scrolling bits of O’gúleesh code rearranging themselves into the language she recognized. The activator gave her an overview of the lines she couldn’t quite follow on her own. “Security system?”
“More like emergency broadcast. It just needs an endpoint.” Persh’al pointed at her ear. “Which would be your fancy new toy. Think you can get that thing to upload this little nugget and sync up?”
She smiled at him. “Piece of cake.”
“You know what? I love cake. Not so sure I love the smug look on your human-looking face right now. Which, by the way, is looking about as pink as your fae friend. You get a sunburn?”
Cheyenne turned quickly toward the monitor again and forced herself to focus. “Stayed in the shower too long. It’ll go away.”
“Uh-huh.” The troll shrugged and sat back in his chair. “Go ahead, then. Work your tech magic.”
“Got it.” She straightened and shot him a grin. “Uploaded, synced, and ready to broadcast, looks like.”
“What?” Persh’al vigorously shook his head and peered at the screen. “There’s no way you just— Damn. Again, I can’t decide between wanting to murder you or worship you. How did you get through all that in thirty seconds?”
“Just the activator.” She spread her arms and stepped away from the table. “You saw me. I didn’t touch a thing.”
“I know. And I hate it.”
“Hey, I didn’t reassemble that O’gúl-human code mashup, either. That was manual on your part.”
Persh’al kicked his chair away from the table and shook his head. “I don’t need you to tell me what I did.”
“I’m just giving credit where it’s due, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” The troll’s orange eyes darted toward her, and his scowl melted into a grin. “Yeah, I know, kid. You get all the fun stuff, I get all the credit. I’m good with that. I better be, right? I’m stuck here while the rest of you get to rage against the Crown full-anarchy style over there.”
She raised an eyebrow as she removed the activator and stuck it back into her pocket, then changed back to her human form. “I thought you didn’t wanna go?”
“What? Oh, right. I mean, yeah, I want to go. It’s just a bad idea.”
“It was a pretty good idea for you to come with me two days ago.”
“Yeah, but that was when it was just the two of us and I didn’t have the half-crazy bossman looming over my shoulder.” Persh’al nodded at the office in the back. It only took five more seconds of Cheyenne silently staring at him before he broke down and offered the rest. “Fine, you got me again. Yeah, there’s more.”
He glanced around, but the other magicals were involved in a conversation by the machines that had Ember and Maleshi laughing, Corian shaking his head, and Byrd and Lumil on the verge of a fistfight.
“Can I be honest with you, kid?”
Cheyenne held back a laugh. “Kind of impossible for you not to be, isn’t it?”
“Okay, let’s forget that you’ve got some kinda weird drow hypnosis thing going on and I can’t lie to you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“That’s beside the point.” He stepped toward her and leaned in as he lowered his voice. “I do wanna be there standing next to you when the Crown falls, kid. I want you to know that. And please don’t try to convince me I should come anyway, ‘cause the reason I’m staying isn’t about me.”
When he slowly lifted his gaze to look at her, Cheyenne nodded. He’s talking about Elarit. “You think she’ll understand why you chose to stay behind?”
“I have no idea. I hope she does. I hope she can. But I can’t risk trying to explain it to her, and I can’t risk going over there. Shit, kid, it’s hard enough to keep anything from you. L’zar’s a hundred times worse if you can believe it.”
“Yeah, I believe it.” She stuck her hands in her pockets and looked at L’zar’s office-turned-private-room. “But she’s part of this whole thing too. She’s behind L’zar, not trying to stop him.”
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t get me wrong, kid. Even if he found out before we take this battle to the Crown, he’d still let me fight. He’d let her fight too; pretend like he didn’t know what was happening so we could all focus on the more important objective—the only objective in his eyes at this point. Afterward, knowing that I’d lied to him about cutting her off?” Persh’al shrugged. “I’d like to think he wouldn’t do anything so terrible I couldn’t live with it. We’ve been friends a long time. We’ve saved each other’s lives more times than I can count. L’zar wouldn’t hurt either of us if he knew she and I were still waiting for the day when we don’t have two entire worlds between us, but he’d find some way to shame us for it. Most of that would fall on her, probably. I can’t let that happen.”
“Jesus.” Cheyenne shook her head, unable to look away from the office door with her drow father somewhere on the other side of it. “So, we’re following another dictator across the border.”
“What? No. You’ve got that all wrong.”
“Doesn’t sound like it. He can’t punish either of you for not letting him dictate who to be with or whatever.”
Persh’al snorted. “Not a fan of that kinda relationship, huh?”
“I’m not not a fan.” Cheyenne shrugged. “It’s just not on my radar. Like, at all. But we’re not talking about me, troll.”
“Ha. Yeah, I tried.”
“Why do you let him make those kinds of choices for you?”
Persh’al frowned. “I didn’t. I went against his orders on this one, and that’s on me. But why do I hand over the reins on everything else? ‘Cause I respect him. I’ve followed him through more tight spaces than even Corian was willing to go way back when, and I honestly believe L’zar’s got the interests of both our worlds as a high priority.”
Cheyenne cocked her head. “But not the top priority.”
“No. L’zar Verdys is his own top priority. We all know that.” The troll snorted. “Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about anything else, though.”
“Sounds like we’re replacing one shitty ruler with another shitty ruler who smells a little better.”
“No way, kid.” Persh’al stepped back and clapped a hand on the halfling’s shoulder. “Here’s the difference between L’zar and the Mother sitting on that throne. L’zar would separate Elarit and me if he found out, sure, maybe even forever. And h
e might throw an extra barb or two in there as a reminder to both of us that following orders is pretty much all we have now. Which I get. We’d move on and be fine, and that’s the end of it. The Crown would invite us in and make us watch everyone we know get the magic sucked out of them and the flesh peeled off their bones.”
“Jesus.”
“Then she’d kill us both in some slow, fucked-up way that gave us a tiny spark of hope that we might be able to get ourselves out of it until we realized we couldn’t. Then we’d be dead, everyone we care about would be dead, and there’d be no one left to stand up to it the next time the Crown decided her judgment was required. Do you need me to go into it in more detail?
“Nope. I’m good.” Cheyenne swallowed and shook her head. “It’s a damn convincing argument.”
Persh’al laughed. “Yeah, against your statement that the only difference between them is that he smells better.”
“Still. You’re his friend, and you’ve had his back for a long time. It’s not okay for him to dangle this kind of thing over your head.”
“Well, he’s got his reasons, and it’s not the worst-case scenario. Who knows? If I can keep my mouth shut about it for long enough, maybe we won’t get to the point where we have to admit lying about it.” The troll spread his arms and raised his voice. “Maybe we’ll all just live happily ever after with a bunch of rainbows and unicorns and sparkly shit until the deathflame brings the end.”
The magicals gathered around the dead war machines turned toward Persh’al to shoot him curious, confused glances. Ember snorted. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about, but if you’re trying to get Cheyenne excited about something, that is not the way to do it.”
Cheyenne grinned at Persh’al and nudged a fist into his shoulder. “I won’t say anything.”
“I know you won’t. That’s why you’re going and I’m staying here.” The troll sat at his desk and dove back into typing on his keyboard.
So, L’zar’s not just a little better than the Crown. Sounds like night and day. Maybe that prophecy’s not what I thought it was.