“And on the ship,” Cutter said.
“Targyon said five hundred dwarves were coming, didn’t he?” Zenia asked.
“Yes.” Jev looked at Rhi. “Go warn the king, please. The rest of us will try—will figure this out.”
“Why me?” Rhi waved her bo. “You may need my help with the trolls.”
“Targyon must be warned. Tell him to go back to the castle, to stay safe tonight. Until we’ve handled it.”
“But he barely knows who I am. He might not—”
“Tell him I sent you.” Jev made his voice harder. “Go.”
Zenia imagined he’d used that voice during the war to command his troops. It had the desired effect.
“Yes, Zyndar,” Rhi said, then jogged off the docks and into the city.
“Lornysh,” Jev said, “how do we get on without falling asleep?”
“I’m not certain. I may have enough innate magic to fight off the effects, though—” a yawn interrupted his words, “—I may not.”
Zenia clasped her hand around her dragon tear and groped for a way to formulate her thoughts. Could it protect her from the magic? Shield her somehow? As it had done with physical attacks.
The dragon tear flared with warmth and blue light that shone through Zenia’s fingers. An image formed in her mind of her striding toward the ship with the others touching her, staying within the gem’s sphere of influence.
“I may be able to protect us,” she said.
Lornysh eyed the light seeping between her fingers.
“Touch my shoulders or back, and we’ll walk to the ship together.”
“What makes you think that will work?” Lornysh asked.
Zenia was reluctant to admit the dragon tear shared ideas with her, especially when Cutter was present, Cutter who’d warned her the gem might be dangerous. “A hunch.”
Lornysh’s eyes narrowed with skepticism.
Jev stepped close and rested a hand on her shoulder. He nodded to her and drew his pistol. The sign of faith touched her.
Following his lead, Cutter came up and laid a hand on her back. Zenia had never liked people touching her that much—Rhi’s joke about finding hugs uncomfortable came to mind—so she had to make herself stand still and not step away. She raised her eyebrows toward Lornysh.
He grumbled something in Elvish but came close enough to put his hand on her other shoulder.
A refreshing surge of energy flowed through Zenia, emanating from her dragon tear. The niggling weariness that had crept over her as soon as she stepped onto the boardwalk vanished.
“Huh,” Jev said.
Did he feel it too?
“Your dragon tear is unlike others I’ve been around,” Lornysh stated, sounding displeased rather than full of wakeful energy, but he wouldn’t have made the comment if he hadn’t felt something. He looked past her to Jev. “It may be too powerful for an untrained wielder. The temptation for her to use it for personal gain will be great.”
Zenia opened her mouth to snap that they didn’t have time for philosophizing, but Jev spoke first.
“She can handle it.” He squeezed her shoulder and pointed toward the dwarven ship.
Lornysh did not object further.
Grateful for the support, Zenia lifted her chin and strode down the pier. She wished she could pat Jev’s hand and thank him, but she felt self-conscious with the others so close. She looked over at him, catching his gaze and holding it, and hoped that would convey her feelings. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder again.
As they neared the ship, the gangplank came into view, its location much different than Zenia had imagined. Instead of descending from the upper deck, it thrust out from a doorway in the hull not high above the level of the water. It was extended now with that door open.
They passed more men and women slumbering on the pier and also on the decks of nearby ships. They looked like they had been going about their evening chores when the urge to sleep had swept over them, and they had collapsed where they stood.
“Do we walk right in?” Jev looked past Zenia to Lornysh.
“Now that I’ve told you about the elven artifact,” Lornysh said, “you know as much about this situation as I do.”
“That’s distressing.”
“Indeed.”
Lornysh and Cutter shifted closer together behind Zenia, still touching her, so they could walk up the narrow gangplank. Jev frowned, then stepped in front of her, sliding his hand down to clasp hers.
“Will this work?” he asked, leading her up the gangplank. Unwilling to let her go into danger first?
“I think so,” Zenia said when the dragon tear didn’t object. “If you start to look drowsy, I’ll poke you in the butt.”
“I prefer squeezes to pokes. Maybe a little pat.”
“A pat would keep you awake?”
“If you did it, I assure you it would.”
Cutter sighed, and Zenia let the conversation die. But not her awareness of Jev. She noticed the warmth of his hand pressed against hers, the callouses of his palm, the gentleness of his grip. She realized they had never walked and held hands before. She had the urge to thread her fingers between his.
But they were stepping into the metal corridor of a ship full of danger, so she made herself focus on possible threats around them rather than hand-holding. Almost immediately, Jev moved awkwardly around a sleeping dwarf with a beard so thick and bushy Zenia had to jump to avoid stepping on it.
“Up or down?” Jev asked when they reached an intersection with narrow stairs that led up and down. “Or turn down the corridor?”
“Up one level and toward the stern of the boat,” Lornysh said.
Jev led the way toward the stairs. They were even narrower than the gangplank had been, and Zenia worried about finding enough room for all of them to remain touching. Another dwarf lay slumped at the base of the steps, snoring loudly and emphasizing the need to stay close to her dragon tear.
A clang echoed down from a deck above them, and Jev paused. That was the first noise they had heard except for snoring.
“Someone’s awake,” Jev murmured, continuing up.
Zenia felt sweat break out on her palm and hoped Jev wouldn’t notice.
“Whoever planted the artifact,” Lornysh said. “The trolls, most likely.”
“What did they need Master Grindmor for if they had such a device?” Jev whispered.
“To get on board,” Cutter growled. “My people never would have lowered the gangplank for trolls. But if they had her… a dwarf wouldn’t risk seeing a master cutter hurt. Especially not one as gifted as she is.”
Another clang sounded, and their group fell silent. Jev guided them out of the stairwell and down a dark corridor. Mostly dark. A faint green glow came from around a bend up ahead.
Zenia glanced at open doors as they passed tiny cabins. Crew quarters with bunks affixed to the walls. She spotted a couple more sleeping dwarves, but few had been in their cabins when the artifact had been turned on.
Whispers drifted around the bend, the same hisses and clucks Zenia had heard in the swamp. Trolls. How many?
She might be able to use the dragon tear to sense life around her, but she was afraid to give it another task when it was the only thing keeping them awake.
They were almost to the bend when a tug from behind made Zenia pause. Lornysh let go of her. He whirled, jerking his bow from his shoulder and nocking an arrow in one swift gesture.
“Down,” Cutter barked.
Zenia crouched as a gunshot fired from behind them. Lornysh loosed his arrow. A bullet clanged off the metal wall beside Zenia’s head.
“Look out,” she yelled, gripping Jev’s hand, wanting to pull him down for safety.
But he was facing the other way, and he released her hand and sprang forward as two trolls with axes burst around the bend. They wore headbands with glowing red gems embedded in them, and they leaped for Jev without any sign of lethargy.
Zenia drew her pistol. Jev had gi
ven her dry ammunition back on the rowboat, so her firearm was loaded, but she struggled to find a clear shot as he engaged the two trolls. In the narrow corridor, his body blocked them from her view.
Cutter also released Zenia, roaring as he headed in the other direction and tore a dagger out of a belt sheath. It looked far too large for his hand—he must have acquired it from a troll. He charged back to help Lornysh with the two trolls that had tried to sneak up on them from behind. One of them already leaned against the wall with an arrow sticking out of his chest, but he was still alive, trying to pull out the shaft. When he saw Cutter, he snarled and hefted a sword. Cutter met that snarl with one of his own and lunged in.
Zenia lifted her pistol—since Cutter was shorter than the troll, she had no trouble aiming at his face. But the troll spotted her and crouched low, deliberately staying behind Cutter as the two squared off, blades coming together in screeches of metal.
Farther down the corridor, Lornysh battled the other troll. His sword flared with orange flames, their fiery reflection visible on the smooth metal walls as he stabbed and thrust. Again, Zenia had no opportunity for a clear shot. She almost reached for her dragon tear but worried whatever magical attack she chose might also strike her friends as easily as her foes.
Wondering if she could be of more help to Jev, she turned as he raised his knee and slammed a boot into one of his adversary’s stomachs. The troll grunted and stumbled back, but the second one lunged around him and rushed in, swinging an axe. Jev ducked, and the axe whizzed over his head and clanged against the wall.
With Jev squatting low, Zenia had her chance. She fired at the axe-wielding troll as he shifted his weapon, trying to slam it down into Jev. But Jev barreled into his attacker, tackling him and taking him to the deck. Zenia’s bullet only grazed the side of the troll’s head.
As Jev and the troll wrestled, she had a clear shot of the one behind them, the one he’d kicked. The troll crouched and sprang to leap over the others to get her. She fired at his eye. The bullet landed true this time, and the troll lurched to the side, his head smashing against the wall.
Another pistol fired. This time, it was Jev, his weapon buried in his opponent’s stomach. He leaped back, leaving the troll writhing on the deck, then fired again. His second bullet took his foe in the neck. The troll screamed, grabbing the wound and rolling into his buddy.
Jev staggered, putting his hand against the wall for support.
“Are you injured?” Zenia ran forward and gripped his shoulder, imagining an axe gash in his gut.
“What?” He turned bleary eyes toward her. Sleepy, bleary eyes.
Zenia willed the energy from her dragon tear to flow into him again. “Grab one of those headbands,” she said.
“Souvenir?” He smiled groggily.
She reached down and firmly clasped his hand. “They must be what’s keeping the dream artifact from affecting them.”
“Ah, good point.”
Zenia went with him, making sure to keep a grip on his hand, as he bent to remove a headband. A pained cry came from the corridor behind them. She turned to find Cutter slumped to his knees, his head against the wall. Sleeping? Lornysh was still on his feet, still moving with the grace of a professional dancer as he finished off a troll—one of three that lay crumpled at his feet. Damn, where had that third one in the rear come from?
“Your friend is quite the amazing warrior,” Zenia remarked as silence fell.
“I assume you mean Lornysh and not Cutter.” Jev reached for a second headband.
“He’s injured and snoring, so it wouldn’t be fair to judge his martial competence.” Zenia waited for Jev to remove the headbands, then led him back toward Cutter. She knelt and rested her free hand on his shoulder, again urging the dragon tear to send wakeful energy into his limbs.
She wished she could also heal his wounds, but when she’d tried that with Lunis Drem a few weeks earlier, the dragon tear hadn’t known what to do.
“There aren’t any more trolls back there,” Lornysh said, walking up with his sword in hand and one of the headbands glowing at his forehead.
Jev had also donned one, and he crouched to one-handedly maneuver the other band onto Cutter’s head. Zenia still had Jev’s other hand, not positive he’d fully recovered from almost falling asleep during that battle.
“I think they work,” Jev told Zenia after a moment, touching his headband.
She nodded as Cutter stirred. “Good.”
“You can probably let go of my hand,” Jev said. “Though if you’ll miss it terribly, you can grab something else that I don’t need while fighting.”
Zenia snorted and released him. “Like what?”
“I’m sure Rhi could make suggestions if she were here. Cutter, can you get up?” Jev helped him to his feet.
Cutter winced, a groan escaping his lips, but he stoically grabbed the toolbox as he stood. “We need to find Master Grindmor.”
“We need to cut off that artifact so she and the rest of the dwarves can find themselves.” Jev waved his pistol and headed down the corridor again.
Zenia stayed closer behind him, though she didn’t grab anything else of his. She trusted his new headband would keep him awake.
“Cutter,” she said, “any idea where someone would go if they wanted to destroy this ship in a huge explosion?”
“All the way down,” Cutter said. “The boiler room. They could rig a catastrophic boiler failure and cause a real mess. There’s a lot of coal stored down there to keep a fire burning long afterward too.”
“Artifact first,” Jev said, leading them around the bend. “If the dwarf crew wakes up, they can deal with it.”
“They will be more likely to have the know-how,” Cutter said.
As they rounded the bend, the green light grew brighter, flowing out of an open hatchway. Jev led with his pistol as he stepped into the cabin, but there weren’t any more trolls. The ones that had rushed out to attack them must have been in charge of the artifact.
Two artifacts, Zenia amended as she poked her head into the cabin. The source of the green glow, a sphere mounted on a small stone pedestal, sat on a wool blanket on the lower of two bunks. A glowing yellow cord linked it to a drab gray box.
Her dragon tear shared with her the sense that both items emitted magic.
“Lornysh?” Jev said. “Are they protected by magic? Or can we walk up and flip a switch? Or slam a sword into them?”
Zenia shifted aside so Lornysh could enter, but she didn’t take her gaze from the artifacts. She could tell her dragon tear was focusing on them too. She sensed it examining them with something akin to curiosity.
“It’s difficult to tell with the magical power they’re emitting,” Lornysh said, “but I don’t sense that any troll magic—a booby trap, if you will—has been added to them. I’ll look for a switch.”
Zenia’s dragon tear shared an image of the artifacts being incinerated by flame. It also shared an eagerness to handle the matter.
Wait, she thought, her mind on explosions. What if destroying some powerful artifact could cause a backlash? We’ll let Lornysh see if they can simply be turned off.
She didn’t usually speak words to the dragon tear, but from the petulant almost sulking impression she got from it, she knew it understood.
Jev looked over at her, and she remembered the way he had come to her defense earlier, his belief that she could control the dragon tear. And she would.
Wait, she thought again.
The sensation of a long sigh floated through her mind.
“I think this will do it.” Lornysh carefully unlinked the cord between the two artifacts, then touched something on the back of the glowing sphere.
The light faded until complete darkness filled the cabin.
“It’s off,” Lornysh said, then whispered something in his language. His sword glowed with flames again, providing a soft orange illumination.
“How long until all the dwarves wake up?” Jev asked.
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“I don’t know. It didn’t take long to rouse Cutter, but he’d only been out for seconds.”
“Not even that long,” Cutter said. “I just needed a moment to rest my eyelids.”
“Sure, you did,” Jev said.
“There’s a dwarven relaxation technique that involves placing warm stones over one’s eyelids. For a moment, I thought I was doing that.”
“Will you show us to the boiler room?” Jev asked him.
“Yes, I—”
“What’s that?” Lornysh interrupted.
Cutter frowned at him. “I don’t hear anything.”
Zenia listened hard, and a faint pulsing sound reached her ears. It seemed to be coming from all around her, from somewhere in the ship.
“I do now,” Cutter said.
“Boiler room.” Jev nodded to the corridor.
Cutter led them out and back to the stairwell, passing the fallen trolls on the way. They also passed a couple of sleeping dwarves as they descended to the lower levels, none of them stirring yet.
The pulsing noise gradually grew louder, and it made Zenia uneasy. She had never heard anything like it but couldn’t believe it signaled anything good.
At the bottom of the stairs, the temperature increased, as if they had walked into a steam hut. Cutter led them into a huge room lit by fires burning in dozens of fireboxes. Thick glass windows in their doors allowed them to see the writhing flames within.
A single dwarf lay in the center of the chamber, a rifle and daggers on the deck next to him. Blood pooled underneath him. This one wasn’t sleeping; he was dead.
“He’s wearing the engineer’s hat,” Cutter said. “If anyone would have known how to fix trouble down here, it’s him. It was him.”
“In there,” Jev blurted and ran through a wide doorway connecting the furnace room with another one.
Lornysh and Cutter followed him inside, but Zenia halted in the doorway, staring.
This room wasn’t lit as well as the other, but she could make out unfamiliar devices connected to cylindrical tanks—the boilers Cutter had mentioned?—and cables draped between and around them. A couple of empty backpacks lay near the door, as well as two dead trolls. They wore headbands, but whatever had happened—a fight with the engineer?—staying awake hadn’t been enough to save them.
Duty Bound (Agents of the Crown Book 3) Page 24