The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  As they continued on the tour, Mara couldn’t help but be amazed by their ingenuity.

  The locals referred to it affectionately as ‘the hive.’ Mara thought it would be more accurately named, ‘the oven.’ She tugged at the neck of her disciple robes, wishing she’d had time to change before being dragged on the tour. The temperature within the volcano itself was stifling. But comfort was a worthy trade for safety—the Aonach Neart was the most defensible location on the continent with only two points of entrance leading in and out. The first led directly into the fortress, while the other was accessible only by tunnel out the back and was guarded day and night by armed Gifted.

  “Over there is the bathhouse.” Astrid pointed. Mara craned her neck to peek at the stone building. “The water is naturally heated, and our Irrigos cycle it regularly to keep it clean.”

  “What is that smell?” Mara asked, hoping the charred meat smell was food and not something else, otherwise she’d feel pretty awful about her growling stomach and watering mouth.

  “Most of our food is prepared there in the center of the crater.” Astrid gestured to a building to their right—if they could even call it a building. It consisted of four stone posts at the corners and an arched roof, leaving the walls open. A team of six pale-skinned Lingatians used long, pronged tools to turn what looked like half a cow over a metal slab. “The Saxums left a few channels of exposed lava during their construction to heat the hive over winter but after a few tragic accidents they had to cover them with metal grates. Our Pistors had the genius idea to lay seasoned meat over the grates and slow-cook it all day. There are five other identical cook pits.”

  The people were just as unusual as the city. They all looked the same with skin so pale it was almost translucent, and Mara could see the blue webbing of their veins pulsing beneath the surface. The men wore their hair cut short while the women wore it long and teased into intricate braids and twists that draped down their backs like a horse’s tail. Their clothing was built more for function than fashion in a mishmash of leather and cloth.

  As they continued around the crater, it became harder to ignore the gawking of the locals. Mara didn’t sense any hostility—only curiosity—but Wynn placed her hands on the hilts of her dirks and asked, “What’s life like here? Is there a lot of fighting?”

  Astrid’s eyebrows shot through her hairline. “Fighting? Goodness no. The Aonach Neart was formed because a group of Lingatians was tired of the constant fighting between clans and wanted to make a fresh start. Now, it’s a peaceful community.”

  That was a surprise. Mara had expected all Lingatians to be the same—brutal and violent. Hearing that not all fit the stereotype was refreshing.

  “Not that they can’t fight, mind you,” she clarified. “Just that they prefer not to. The fortress wasn’t built until years later when a new Warlord, Fergus of the Gad clan, saw the thriving community and decided to claim it for himself. His Saxums built the fortress within a week with no opposition, but the moment he tried to conquer the Aonach Neart the people rebelled.”

  “What happened to him?” Mara asked.

  Astrid led them around the buildings into the very heart of the volcano. A circular wall of obsidian bricks surrounded something. A set of stone stairs led up to what appeared to be an observation deck at the top. Mara followed Wynn and her guards to the top of the stairs where they fanned out around a hole spanning twenty feet across. Wynn leaned over the edge, and a guard threw out his hand to prevent her from falling inside. Astrid folded her arms over her chest and said nothing, apparently expecting them to know from sight alone.

  Mara circled the pit as she tried to figure out what it was. Her first thought was that it was a prison of some sort, but she couldn’t see a bottom, and it was too deep to be used for some sort of sport or game. The way the bricks were stacked reminded her of a well, but any water inside would evaporate quickly in this heat. She glanced at Wynn, but she seemed just as perplexed. Mara turned to Astrid and asked, “What is it?”

  “This is where we throw the traitors.” Her eyes glinted. “Warlord Fergus tried to take something that wasn’t his and found himself taking a dive into a lake of magma instead.”

  Wynn looked far too excited by the possibilities of having her own lava-filled death pit. Her lips pulled back from her teeth in something akin to a smile, but exponentially more terrifying.

  Before Wynn could order the guards to start chucking people in, Mara asked, “Will there be trouble now that Wynn is Warlord?”

  Wynn twisted her head around to look at Astrid, apparently as anxious to hear the answer as Mara was.

  “No. The people of the Aonach Neart are independent.” Addressing Wynn, she said, “As long as you leave them alone, you’ll be fine. Remember, they’re your subjects, not your clan.”

  “That’s fair,” Wynn said. She threw a wistful look over her shoulder at the pit before descending the stairs. Mara made a mental note to keep her as far away as she could.

  They headed back toward the fortress and Astrid fell into step beside Mara. The tall Lingatian sized her up with a smirk that had too much of an edge to be entirely friendly. “So, how’d you meet Wynn?”

  “She kidnapped and threatened to murder me.” Mara laughed as she remembered the early days before their friendship began.

  Astrid snorted. “That sounds like a great bonding experience.”

  “You have no idea.”

  They exchanged wry grins. “You wanna have some fun?”

  For a country that seemed to view war as a sport, that was a loaded question. “I guess that depends on your definition of fun,” she hedged.

  “Nothing too extreme,” Astrid assured her. “Just a little volcano sledding.”

  Mara jerked to a stop. “What—”

  “I’ll have the guys set it up later this week. You’re going to love it!” Astrid called back as she hurried to catch up with Wynn.

  She shook her head and followed them into the tunnel wondering what she had just gotten herself into.

  ***

  Before they went back to their rooms, Wynn pulled Mara aside and whispered, “Stay on yer guard, and take turns sleeping.”

  Mara jerked back. “I thought you said we were safe now.”

  “Hardly. The first few days after a new Warlord is declared are bloody. It’s common for the first few Warlords to die within a day until people are sick of the bloodshed. As my allies, ye’ll be targeted. If they kill ya, they’ll make me weaker. And if they kill me, they’ll come after ya to prevent ya from getting vengeance.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell us this earlier?”

  Wynn shrugged. “It made no difference when we were prepared for an attack. I just didn’t want ya to start snoring and go vulnerable now.”

  “What about you? If it’s so dangerous, you shouldn’t be sleeping alone! Stay with me and Tamil.”

  “And look like I’m cowering in fear in my own fortress?” Her smoky laughter followed Mara down the hall and into her room.

  Taking Wynn’s advice to heart, Mara curled up on the bed with Tamil and slid her dagger under her pillow. Ethan and Alex must have gotten a similar warning. They dragged their straw-filled pallets into her room and laid on the floor in front of the door.

  Hours must have passed before she abandoned trying to sleep. Tamil was snoring softly into his pillow. Mara climbed out of the bed carefully so she didn’t disturb him. She stretched, her joints popping. The room inside the fortress was sparsely furnished, as if adding any sort of comforts or decorations would be useless. The bed was covered in warm furs but the bare stone floor sent a chill through her feet. Was it too much to add a rug? She padded over to the window that looked out toward the Drocan mountain range which would only be visible on a clear day.

  How were her friends doing in Merrowhaven? Was Ella still running the apothecary in the outer ring? Had Oona given the rest of the elixir to Evelyn to distribute among the dregs? And were the newly-Gifted adjusting wel
l to Mikkal’s training?

  She wished she could be there with them. It didn’t seem fair that they were taking all the risk on themselves while she was safely tucked away from the Emperor’s wrath. Now that Wynn was the Warlord, she didn’t see why they couldn’t move them to Orgate. By now, Isaac’s Saxums should have cleared the Drocan Pass of debris.

  A hand snaked around her waist. She squeaked and whirled around, fists clenched. She pulled her punch when she realized it was Ethan, and not an attacker who had managed to sneak into the room without opening the door. Misinterpreting her reaction, he pulled back to put a more respectful distance between them. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “On the contrary. I’m currently sleepwalking.”

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Glad to know you still have a sense of humor.”

  “It’s the only thing that keeps me sane.” She wished he would put his arms around her again. “What about you? Afraid someone will burst in here and murder us in our sleep?”

  “Among other things, but that’s not the biggest reason,” he said, glancing out the window. His jaw tightened. At her questioning look, he explained, “My father.”

  It was like he’d shoved her in a tub full of ice. It wasn’t as though she’d forgotten Cadmus and the threat posed to not only them, but every dreg on the continent. How could they? He was the silent threat lurking behind the scenes—a viper, coiled and waiting for his prey to walk into the trap before it struck. They couldn’t ignore him for much longer—they’d have to make a move against him, and soon.

  She couldn’t help but feel that Cadmus’s half-hearted attempt to capture them was nothing but a distraction. With the sheer number of disciples that had ambushed them, they should have been overwhelmed in seconds. Instead, they’d toyed with them slowly, wearing them down. Was it a warning? A show of power meant to terrify them?

  “Cadmus knows he has the power here,” she mused. “What do you think he’s up to?”

  “I wish I knew.” His grip tightened on the windowsill and his shoulders flexed with tension. “I wish I could See it. I can’t shake this awful feeling that we’re playing into his scheme.”

  “You think he meant for us to escape the disciples? He’s not that stupid.”

  “I think it was too easy for us to escape. This was sloppy by his standards. The fact that he has the Augeo, which bolsters his Gift beyond what we could imagine suggests he has an alternative plan in the works.”

  “Maybe he made a mistake,” she said, unwilling to consider the alternative.

  Ethan shook his head. “Cadmus doesn’t make mistakes. He makes carefully thought out plans.”

  Mara frowned, thinking it over. “No matter what, it sounds like our best chance is to stay here and help strengthen Wynn’s position as Warlord. We already have one powerful ally.”

  “And yet another powerful enemy,” he replied, words loaded. She knew he was referring to the emperor, but they were safe here, trapped on this side of the Drocan mountains. Even if Isaac’s team of Saxum had cleared the pass, they wouldn’t be able to reach her in Orgate without consequences. She smiled, picturing Isaac complaining about the drawn-out legal process.

  Still, they were trapped on this side of the Drocan mountains. Even if she wanted to go home, the moment she crossed back into Esterwyn, she’d be captured. Somehow, she didn’t think they would welcome her with open arms, and she preferred to keep her head where it was.

  Realizing Ethan had gone quiet, Mara said, “It doesn’t matter. Wynn has the power of the clans now. At least one of them must be an Avem. If we can get word to Oona, she’ll send the Gifted here where we can keep them safe and train them.”

  “Mara, we’re surrounded by enemies. The Order is north, along with Aravell, which backed the Order without needing to be coerced. Esterwyn to the west. Tomar is riding from the south with a horde of Kerani and clansmen mixed. And Crystalmoor? Silvano might be Miestryri, but I can guarantee that my father has gotten to him somehow. We’re alone.”

  Mara moved closer. She reached out tentatively to wrap her arm around his back. Now that her betrothal was broken, she didn’t know what was holding her back. She was free, and he hadn’t made a move to claim her. Since she found him in the pass, she kept waiting for him to say something. Do something. But he’d kept his distance.

  In Merrowhaven, he’d tried to talk to her, but she’d brushed him off.

  Maybe she’d misread the signs.

  What if she’d rejected him too many times and he’d moved on?

  Or maybe, running for their lives from an army of disciples wasn’t the best time to declare their feelings and intentions.

  Moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating his face in its ethereal glow. Without a way to shave, a thin layer of scruff covered his face. She decided she liked it. It added a harder edge to his youthful face that made him look more experienced. Wiser. His hair hung loose to his shoulder, and she had to restrain herself from running her fingers through it.

  As if he could sense her silent examination, he turned to her with a bashful grin.

  Blushing, Mara looked away, pretending she hadn’t just been checking him out. “We’re not alone. We have each other.”

  Ethan pulled her into an embrace and she rested her head on his shoulders, feeling secure in his arms. She sighed as her tension melted away. He pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of her head and she tilted her head back so she could see his face. “What are you thinking?”

  He smiled. “I’m thinking that if these are my final weeks, there’s no one I’d rather spend them with than you.”

  She pulled back, heart sinking through the floor.

  “What is it?” he asked, voice full of concern.

  “You’re right. It was too sloppy for Cadmus.” She shoved away from Ethan and rushed to the door. If she was right, they didn’t have much time. She had to warn Wynn.

  After shaking Alex awake and explaining the situation, Ethan tried to follow as she raced down the hall to Wynn’s room.

  Mara skidded to a halt and pressed her palm against his chest like she could herd him back into the room. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Coming with you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “You can’t!” Mara shouted. Hurt colored his expression and she almost relented, but she couldn’t let him put himself in danger. “Please, stay with Tamil. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Without checking to make sure he stayed put, Mara hurried down the hall.

  Two pairs of guards tried to stop her at first before they recognized her and let her pass. She pounded on the door. A bleary-eyed Wynn answered the door, the duel-bladed knife clutched in her one hand while she rubbed her eyes with the other. “Mara? Do ya know what time it is?”

  “Come on!” She grabbed Wynn by the arm and pulled her down the hall.

  Wynn dug her heels into the floor. “What do ya bloody think ye’re doing!”

  Mara took a deep breath and rounded on her waving her arms wildly. “We got away from the disciples too easy.”

  “Or Ethan was brilliant as usual.” Wynn crossed her arms and leaned against her doorway.

  “No, you don’t know Cadmus like I do. He would have Seen it!” Frustrated, Mara pressed her fingers to her temples and took a deep breath. “Look, if I’m wrong, no harm done.”

  “Except costing me a decent night’s sleep . . .”

  “But if I’m right, disciples are infiltrating the Ayo . . . the Aona . . . the stinking volcano as we speak!”

  Wynn jolted awake. “Ye’re sure?”

  Mara nodded.

  Whatever she saw on Mara’s face seemed to convince her. She ducked back into her room and came out a moment later with her dirks. “Let’s go.”

  Wynn alerted the guards as they raced toward the tunnel that led to the volcano where fifty-thousand Gifted were sleeping blissfully, unaware that death had infiltrated their city.

 
23

  When they entered the Aonach Neart, Mara initially thought she’d been wrong. The city was quiet and peaceful with nothing out of place. Pale moonlight trickled in through the open crater, illuminating the buildings in a bluish glow. Against the wishes of the guards, Wynn scouted ahead, jumping from shadow to shadow around the crater. She moved like darkness itself, wild and unstoppable, and her guards struggled to keep up with her.

  A few curtains ruffled as inquisitive Lingatians peeked out to see what was going on. Mara ignored them, her eyes swiveling around every corner. Astrid, Conner, and the rest of the Gifted who’d defected from the Tuir clan followed close behind.

  Mara plastered herself to the wall of what looked like a shop and inched her way down the length, prepared to confront a disciple at any moment. She patted her thigh where her dagger should be, heart clenching when all she found was smooth fabric. Too late, she remembered that it was safely tucked away under her pillow. Mara cursed softly under her breath. Hopefully, the Healer had fixed her problem and she’d be able to fight if she needed to. She took a deep breath and glanced around the corner.

  “See anything?” Astrid whispered in her ear. Alarmed, Mara’s whirled around with a gasp. Astrid reared back, her eyes glued to Mara’s hand which now held an egg-sized sphere of energy. “Sorry.”

  She couldn’t register the relief at having her Gift back, even if it was diminished. Mara gulped down air, trying to control her breathing. “No. Maybe I was wrong,” she said, though she didn’t believe it. Cadmus wouldn’t have made such an amateur mistake. He would have planned ahead for every eventuality, no matter what it cost him. Maybe capturing them at the pass was his original plan, but when that failed, he would have had a backup. And another.

  Wynn appeared in front of her and she bit off a scream. The scarred woman shoved her back against the wall and pressed her forearm against her neck, pinning her in place. “Are ya tryin’ to humiliate me?” she said, reverting back into her thickened speech.

  “No,” Mara rasped, turning her head to get more air.