The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus

by Bethany Hoeflich

  Before Astrid could retaliate, a guard burst into the room. He tapped the butt of his spear on the stone floor and barked, “The Warlord demands your presence immediately.”

  Mara’s eyes slid from the board. Before she could consider the implications, she muttered, “She demands, does she?”

  The guard’s face grew stony. “Yes, she does. She instructed me to say that she’d be happy to gut you if you keep her waiting.

  “I have no doubt.” Mara rolled her eyes. Becoming Warlord might have gone to her head a little. She smiled at Astrid and said, “Don’t even think of rearranging the board while I’m gone.”

  Astrid’s eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Mara would bet her last bit that the board would be different by the time she got back.

  She followed the guard into the main receiving room. A woman with skin as dark as Steel’s leaned against the wall with her arms folded and legs crossed. She wore a bored expression, like she was gracing them with her presence, and not the other way around. Her thick, black hair was pulled back from her face in what seemed like a hundred tiny braids. She would be devastatingly beautiful if it weren’t for the scowl twisting her face.

  The guards around the perimeter of the room wore matching scowls aimed at the newcomer. Wynn reclined on her wooden chair, one leg thrown over the arm as she studied the woman. When she spotted Mara, her face brightened. She sat up straight, laying her duel-bladed knife over her knees. Mara wouldn’t have blinked twice at the naked steel, but in Lingate, it was a sign that your host didn’t trust you.

  Understandable, considering Mara didn’t trust this new person, either.

  “Bout time ya could join us.”

  If they had been alone, Mara would have snapped that she wasn’t Wynn’s lap dog, but she couldn’t show dissension in front of the visitor. Instead, she said, “I came as quickly as I could, Warlord,” and pressed her fist to her chest, copying the way the Lingatians showed respect. Trying to be subtle, she tilted her head toward the mystery woman, hoping Wynn would pick up on the hint.

  “Mara, I’d like ya to meet Arianna Lei Mior—something.” She frowned at the woman. “What did ya say yer name was again?”

  “Arianna Lei Miore’, the rightful Miestryri and sister to the usurper,” she said, the words flowing like music from her lips.

  Mara’s face scrunched up. Sister to the usurper? She couldn’t be referring to Steel, could she? But then she remembered him mentioning his sisters, and this woman had enough similarities that they could be related. Her confusion grew. He’d spoken of them with affection, but the only thing that Arianna had was hostility.

  Wynn grunted. “Quite a mouthful, isn’t it? Not sure if I can pronounce all those flowery syllables. Feels like I’m trying to plant a garden with my tongue. Can I call ya Ari?”

  “No.”

  She shrugged. “Worth a shot. If yer name ends up sounding like something I left in the latrine, don’t blame me.”

  Mara shot Arianna an uneasy glance. Other than the tightening of her fists, she didn’t react to Wynn’s open mockery. Either that was a good thing and she could take a joke—not likely—or she was saving the insults to use as ammunition at a future date. Mara couldn’t get a read on her.

  “Why don’t ya tell Mara why ye’re here. It was an entertaining tale at least.”

  Arianna stepped away from the wall, gaze narrowing on Mara as if to take her measure. Mara resisted the urge to shrink back under her scrutiny. She’d faced worse than this lone female. Arianna cleared her throat. “Six weeks ago, my exiled brother returned home, murdered my father, and stole my throne from me.”

  Mara started. “What? You think Steel killed your father?”

  Arianna tilted her head. “Steel?”

  “Uh . . . Sil?” Mara scrambled to remember his real name. “What did he say his real name was? Silvano?”

  Her face darkened. “That’s him. He was disgraced—banished from Crystalmoor to live his life out in shame. Instead, he returned and murdered our father in revenge. The Miestryri had already named me as his heir, but Silvano didn’t care. He allowed blind ambition and greed to take the place of good sense. I had good people on my side. I didn’t want to risk their lives in an all-out war, so I warned Silvano to step down and return to exile. He didn’t listen. I waged an attack on his naval fleet and sank every ship. That should have been enough to send him running, but it wasn’t. He made a deal with the Order like a coward and I had to flee for my life with my followers. Then he gave our sister to the Head Magi.”

  “Whoa, back up a second.” Mara pressed her palms to her head. Her mind kept returning to a few key points. “But isn’t Steel—Silvano, the rightful heir? He’s eldest, isn’t he?”

  “The mantle of Miestryri doesn’t always pass from parent to eldest child. The sea chooses, and the priests anoint the rightful ruler. Besides, he was a dreg. He wasn’t worthy. If he hadn’t bribed the priests, he wouldn’t have been chosen.”

  Wynn fixed her with a pointed look. “Ye’ll find we don’t put much stock on Gifts around here,”

  Arianna’s face twisted, and her gaze volleyed between Wynn and Mara. “But . . . this is Lingate.”

  Wynn gestured to herself with the knife, twisting it in a lazy circle. “Under new management, love.”

  Mara continued. “Why wouldn’t you just support your brother?”

  “He . . . he killed my father.”

  “Did you watch him do it?” Mara pressed. “Did you witness it for yourself, or did you hear it from someone else?” She hadn’t known Steel long, but she never took him to be a murderer. Sure, he was ambitious, but that didn’t mean he would kill someone, let alone his own father, without cause. Not unless it was self-defense.

  Arianna considered her words, then dismissed them. “No, my source was reliable.”

  “Was?”

  “Silvano killed him. Lucan was captured by the Order and gift-wrapped for the new Miestryri.”

  Mara started at the familiar name. “Isn’t Lucan the same man who tried to kill your father?”

  “Yes . . .” Arianna said, slower this time, as if she were unsure of herself. “At least, that’s what the reports had said originally. Then we discovered that my brother’s Shield had been the one to try to poison my father.”

  Wynn snorted. “If ya think Mikkal tried to poison yer father, then ye’re touched in the head.”

  “Easier to believe a trained killer would do it than a faithful advisor who’d served my father all his life. Maybe Silvano was trying to claim the throne early and he failed. Besides, Lucan swears he had nothing to do with the assassination attempt.”

  “And you believed him? That sounds like something an assassin would say when trying to clear his name.”

  “How dare you judge me? I don’t even know why you’re here. Why would a Warlord need to wait on some common peasant before making an alliance?”

  Mara jerked back, stunned. Wynn was faster. She vanished from her chair and appeared next to Arianna, the duel-bladed knife poised to dive into the fleshy part of her abdomen. Arianna sucked in a breath and Wynn bared her teeth. “I don’t know why ya think it’s okay to insult my allies in my own home. If it were just me, fine. I have enough friends to last a lifetime and I’m not looking for more. But ya won’t talk about my friends, my kin, like that if ya don’t want to stand in a pool of yer own guts.”

  In a blink, Wynn reappeared on her throne, ankles crossed, looking like she hadn’t just threatened to murder a guest. Mara blinked, disconcerted by the sheer brutality of it all, but she couldn’t help but feel just a tiny bit flattered.

  Arianna gasped, her hand pressed to her throat.

  “I guess I shoulda introduced ya, but ye’ll find I’m not good at doing things proper.” Wynn smiled—a terrifying sight. “I’d like ya to meet Mara, and Impriga. She single-handedly laid waste to Order Headquarters and killed two hundred disciples. She survived captivity in the Order, as well as a devast
ating betrothal to the worthless prince of Esterwyn—not sure which was worse, to be honest. This woman could drain yer body of every drop of energy until ye’re nothing by a skeletal husk dirtying my floor. I’d suggest ya treat her with a bit more respect.”

  Well, then. Mara turned to address the foreign beauty who was growing chalkier by the second. She offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Wynn groaned. “And there ya go, destroying my image of ya. I’d planned on painting ya like some vengeful goddess, sweeping through the world, destroying the wicked. And ya had to go and ruin it!”

  “I think we have more important things to worry about than my image.”

  “So ya say, but who has the greater life expectancy here? I’ll be dead in a couple years while ye’ll get to live until ye’re old and wrinkled with dozens of squalling babes to keep ya company.”

  The thought of Wynn being gone so soon make her throat constrict. No. If they were able to defeat the Order, she’d have to hope they could do something about this ridiculous practice of killing the Warlord in order to take over rule of Lingate. Wynn would live long enough to fall in love again. She had to believe it.

  “Now, I think ya need to tell us why, exactly, ya think Silvano isn’t capable of ruling Crystalmoor. I knew the man for over a year, and he seemed capable of the job.”

  “He paid the priests.” At their blanks looks, Arianna explained, “The priests of the sea god control who is or isn’t anointed. Initially, they rejected him, but he paid them enough gold to look the other way. But that wasn’t enough. Cadmus came to Crystalmoor to offer him support.”

  Mara sucked in a breath. “Cadmus supports Silvano?”

  “Yes, and that’s not all. He,” Arianna choked on a sob that she quickly covered with a cough. “He took my sister, Lucinda, to Order Headquarters.”

  Mara gasped. Just like Tamil. How could Steel allow Cadmus to do that?

  Wynn tapped her fingers on her chin, not nearly as moved as Mara would have expected. “What can ya offer us?”

  “What?”

  “Ye’re coming to us with empty hands, expecting we’ll drop everything to fight yer war for ya. What can ya give us in return?”

  Arianna was at a loss for words. “Nothing. I-I have a small rebellion, made smaller still as the disciples hunt us. I can’t offer you riches or loyalty, but I can offer you an alliance.”

  Wynn squinted, the scars pulling at the corner of her eyes. “Not worth much, but if ya can fight with us against Cadmus, we’ll help ya once the Order is defeated.”

  Arianna nodded slowly. “That’s better than nothing.”

  “So, do we have a deal?”

  “Deal.”

  27

  Anderview was on fire. Literally. The homes became blackened tombs for those trapped inside. Those who could flee had done so hours ago, leaving behind the dead and mortally wounded. Wynn motioned for her Irrigos to come forward and combat the flames that ate through the town like starving dogs. Arianna and two of her rebels battled the fires on the other side of town.

  “This is the fifth village this week,” Wynn said, her voice devoid of emotion. Only the tears in her eyes betrayed her devastation at not being able to protect her people. “At this rate, I won’t last three years as Warlord. The clans’ll be clamoring for my head by sundown.”

  Ethan had predicted that Cadmus would retaliate after Wynn killed Tova, and he was right. The Order had swarmed northern Lingate. The disciples traveled from town to village to homestead, burning them to the ground as they went. It was Briarwood all over again.

  The casualties were horrifying. Astrid estimated that the Order had killed over thirty-thousand men, women, and children so far, and they were showing no signs of stopping.

  Mara surveyed the damage and swallowed. The thick smoke clung to their hair and clothes. She doubted the smell would ever come out, no matter how much she washed them. “He’s getting bolder.”

  Wynn let out a harsh laugh. “It’s not like we've given him a reason to retreat, right?”

  Mara didn’t answer. So far, they’d held back, unable to counter the Order’s attacks without risking massive casualties to their meager forces. They couldn’t afford to send their Gifted against the disciples but staying holed up in their fortress had meant certain death for the citizens of Lingate.

  “We have to surrender,” Wynn said like it physically pained her to admit defeat.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “What choice do I have? Every day we wait is another village burned to the ground. My people are innocent, but the Order doesn’t care. I love ya, Mara, but I have to start thinking of my people. If Cadmus continues to murder them like this . . .”

  “You’ll what? Swear your allegiance to him?” Mara rounded on her. How could she think about giving up? “The Order murdered your family, Wynn. You can’t seriously be considering bowing to that monster.”

  Wynn looked like she could tear apart iron with her bare hands. “What do ya suggest I do? Wait until he kills everyone? Your army won’t be ready for months.”

  Oona had been sending regular reports from Merrowhaven. The latest missive said that Ella was successfully settling the former dregs inside the outer rings while Mikkal was overseeing the training of one thousand Gifted. They planned to move to Orgate after winter passed.

  “That doesn’t mean we have to roll over on our backs and show him our throats.” Mara glanced at a Healer who was desperately trying to save a young boy who’d been burned over most of his body. “How do you think the clans will see you if you leave these attacks unchallenged. You are the Warlord. They’ll think you’re weak if you do nothing. We need to strike back now.”

  “If ya think I’m dragging the clans to Order Headquarters to die, ye’re crazier than I thought.”

  “Not Headquarters. Someplace closer. The disciples responsible for this can’t have gone far.”

  Ethan and Alex overheard as they passed by. Alex set down an empty bucket and wiped an arm across his sweaty forehead. “You want to retaliate?”

  Mara nodded.

  “They’ll be stationed a few miles north. A skirmish like this wouldn’t take many disciples to carry out—maybe fifty or so.” He turned a critical eye on the destruction. “This happened overnight while everyone was asleep. The survivors won’t be in any shape to fight back, so the Order won’t be expecting pursuit. Their guard will be down. With a small team, you could overtake them.”

  Ethan tilted his head. “Do you think they’re headed to Base 13?”

  “What’s Base 13?” Mara asked.

  “It’s a rest stop hidden in the Drocan Mountains just north of Grimbrook,” Alex explained. “There are thirty in total, located across the continent. The disciples use them as a place to rest and regroup when they’re out on missions. And yes, I think that’s where they’re headed.”

  “Back up a moment. Cadmus has thirty secret bases? Why is this not common knowledge?”

  “Do you think someone like Cadmus would want the general public to know?” Ethan raised a brow.

  “Why does he even need them? If the Order needs to rest after a mission, they have every right to march into the nearest town and demand supplies. No one would be foolish enough to turn them away.”

  “It’s not as simple as a need to resupply, I’m afraid.” Ethan shifted on his feet. “Cadmus doesn’t want to stop with gaining power and influence across the continent. When I was last at Order Headquarters, I found my great-grandfather’s journal. I was horrified by what I read. In it, he detailed a vision of a unified continent without borders and the plan to bring it to fruition. There would be no more Crystalmoor. No more Esterwyn. No more Lingate. It would be one big country, and the Order would sit at its head.”

  Mara gasped. “But . . . that’s insane! It would be impossible!”

  “Not impossible. He’s already gotten this far, and it would only take a few more years before everything falls int
o place. Cadmus idolized his grandfather, and he will stop at nothing to realize this dream. But if the monarchs and rulers found out . . .”

  “They would openly rebel.” Alex grimaced. “So, he set up secret bases in key locations where they could carry out simultaneous attacks to remove the people in power.”

  Mara dropped her head into her hands. She’d known Cadmus was a power-hungry, controlling, megalomaniac, but this went beyond anything she could have imagined. The Order already had too much influence. What would the continent look like if Cadmus had total control?

  “We need to destroy those bases,” Wynn said. “Do ya know where they are?”

  “I only know two,” Alex said. “The one in the Drocan mountains, and another near Merrowhaven. Cadmus didn’t want everyone to know the locations—there was too much of a chance of someone turning traitor and revealing them to his enemies.”

  Mara turned to Ethan. “What about you?”

  “Self-proclaimed traitor here. Cadmus trusted me least of all. He wouldn’t tell me anything about the bases, and everything I know about his plans was learned second-hand.”

  She deflated. “So the only person who knows the exact location is Cadmus himself, and it’s not like he’ll reveal them to us.”

  “It’s not so grim as that,” Ethan said. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a scroll which he unrolled to reveal a map. He looked expectantly at the group. “Anyone have a pencil?”

  “Why am I not surprised you’re carrying a map?”

  Ethan gave her a side-eyed look. “Don’t you?”

  Wynn handed Ethan a stick that had been burned on the one end. “Will this work?”

  “Perfect! Let’s start with what we do know. Alex has the location of two bases, here and here.” He marked them on the map. “It stands to reason that the others are located close to the capitals.”

  “Ya think there’s one near Orgate?”

  “I’d guarantee it.”

  Mara frowned. “Something’s been bothering me. Tomar was openly fighting his way through Lingate to assemble the clans. Cadmus did nothing to stop it, even though Tomar made it no secret that he was riding to Order Headquarters. If what you say is true, that Cadmus wants to unify the countries under the control of the Order . . . What if he was letting Tomar do all the work for him?”