Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Novels from Top Fantasy and Science Fiction Authors

by Gwynn White

  “Bridget,” Andrew called.

  Huffing out a breath—and a few choice words—she started after him. There had to be a way to stop this. He couldn’t make her give up her life on the canal. She had grown up on the canal, as had Andrew. But unlike Andrew, she had no desire to become a townie. The canal life was in her blood.

  They reached the base of the stairs, and Briar glanced toward the back door, longing to bolt through it. She glimpsed Eli through the window beside the door. He still waited on the back stoop. An idea forming, she called out to Andrew.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Andrew glanced back with a frown, but she hurried on before he spoke.

  “I need to send Eli back to the boat. It looks like it’ll be a long evening.”

  Andrew waved permission. “Don’t dawdle.”

  Briar gritted her teeth to hold in her response, and settled for a nod. As soon as Andrew turned down the hall, she hurried to the back door and stepped outside.

  “Miss Briar?” Eli’s eyes swept over her, widening a little.

  “I’ve been forced to dress as a townie so Andrew can present me to his new business partner.”

  Eli frowned. “Why?”

  “Why do you think? He wants me to find a husband.”

  Eli’s frown deepened. “But he needs you to captain the boat.”

  “Not after he sells the boat to help finance his new locomotive building business.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. The business partner he wants to introduce me to? It’s none other than Mr. Martel of the new Martel Locomotives.”

  Eli’s bushy brows climbed his forehead.

  Briar crossed her arms. “Yeah, the guy who can singlehandedly put the canal industry out of business.”

  Eli’s expression turned considering. “He must be a wealthy man, Miss Briar.”

  “You’re not seriously suggesting that I go along with Andrew’s plans.”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “I’m a boatman. I can provide for myself just fine. I don’t need a husband.”

  Eli fell silent.

  “And I’m not about to let my cousin destroy my—our way of life.”

  Eli studied her, a look between concern and amusement warring to be the dominant expression on his face. “You’re up to something.”

  “I learned a little something about Mr. Martel that I suspect my cousin doesn’t know.”

  Eli gave her a questioning look, but didn’t speak.

  “He spent last night in my room, and his trunk was still there. I went through it.”

  Amusement was definitely winning on Eli’s face.

  “I suspect he’s a ferromancer.”

  Eli’s jaw dropped open.

  “That trunk is currently upstairs and unguarded. With it, we could destroy the railroad’s reputation. After what happened in Europe, no one will buy something made by a ferromancer.”

  “But ferromancers aren’t around anymore. They’ve been gone since I was a kid.”

  “Apparently one survived.”

  “I don’t want you meeting him, Miss Briar. Them metal mages are said to be cold-blooded killers.”

  “He’s not going to kill me; he wants to work with my family. So while I keep him entertained, you’re going to nab his trunk.”

  “You’re going to rob a man who can steal your soul and lock it in iron?”

  “Sounds kinda poetic, doesn’t it? I’ll have to write a song about it when we’re done.”

  “Miss Briar.”

  “If I turn that trunk over to the newspaper in Columbus, the Martel Locomotives will be off the market, and we can keep our way of life.”

  Eli pressed his lips together, clearly seeing the benefit of her plan.

  “Now, I need to get back in there before Andrew comes looking for me. You’ll take the trunk to the boat?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  Briar nodded and turned back toward the door.

  “Miss Briar?”

  She looked over her shoulder.

  “Be careful.”

  “I can take care of myself.” She pushed open the back door and stepped into the house. Time to see how she fared against a ferromancer.

  Briar picked at her roasted duck, trying in vain to come up with some excuse that would allow her to return to the boat to check on Eli. Mr. Martel had not shown for dinner, and she could just imagine the man catching Eli walking through the streets carrying his trunk with the controversial drawing. Beyond that, it had occurred to Briar that she had failed to warn Eli that the lock could transform into a dragon. Boatmen tended to be a superstitious lot, and her crew was no different. Hopefully, Eli would just store the trunk in her cabin for safekeeping.

  “Is the duck not to your liking?” Molly whispered, leaning close.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m not all that hungry.” Briar answered in an equally soft tone, aware of her cousin’s other guests. She didn’t know the three other couples seated around the table, but she was sure they all held positions of importance here in town. Andrew wouldn’t have invited them otherwise.

  “I feared it had dried out since we waited so long to begin.”

  Andrew looked up from his plate. “It was rude to begin without our honored guest.”

  Who was now two hours late. Briar was tempted to add a quip about never being that late herself, but she wasn’t in the mood for another fight. Though Andrew probably wouldn’t rise to the bait with so many of his wealthy peers present.

  The door opened and the housekeeper joined them. “Excuse me, sir, but a message just arrived from Mr. Martel.”

  Andrew held out his hand, and the housekeeper placed the folded piece of paper on his palm. Bobbing him a curtsey, she hurried from the room.

  Molly laid down her silverware with a clatter, her face anxious as she watched Andrew read the letter. He sighed and set it aside.

  “What is it, my dear?” Molly asked. “Was I wrong to serve the meal? Is he on his way?” She gripped her hands in her lap.

  “No,” Andrew’s tone was curt. “He won’t be joining us this evening. Some business at the train yard has kept him apparently. I assume he took rooms in town.” He frowned at the letter. “Whomever he employed to pen this letter should not be allowed to hold a quill.”

  Briar leaned closer to see the letter and recognized Jimmy’s penmanship—or the lack thereof.

  She pushed herself to her feet. “I guess I can return to the boat.”

  Andrew looked up with a frown.

  “You don’t need me, and I have work to do.” She made it through the door and into the hall. Unfortunately, Andrew followed her.

  “You don’t just get up and leave a dinner party.”

  “When I’m done eating, I leave the table.” She started for the stairs.

  “I’m selling the boat, Bridget. You’ve made your last run.”

  She turned to face him. “What about the crew?”

  “I’m sure they can find another boat to sign on.”

  “They need to know.” She turned away once more.

  “I want you here at lunch tomorrow, dressed appropriately.”

  She gritted her teeth, but managed to remain silent as he returned to the room.

  Alone in the hall, and away from her annoying cousin, her worries returned, now with the added concern of why Jimmy was making excuses for Mr. Martel.

  Lifting her skirt to her knees, she took the steps two at a time. She ran down the hall to her room and skidded to a stop on the threshold. The trunk was gone.

  She snatched up her everyday clothing, and not bothering to change, stuffed it along with her boots into a satchel and ran from the room.

  The moon was high overhead when Briar arrived at the dock. Lamps had been lit on the deck of her boat, illuminating the transom and the artfully drawn ring of roses encircling Briar Rose, the name of the vessel. Most people thought the boat had been named for her, but in truth, her uncle had nicknamed her after the boat.
She had loved that. She hated the name Bridget.

  The gangplank was down, and she was already aboard before the crew even noticed.

  “Cap’n Briar?” Jimmy sprang to his feet, followed an instant later by Zach and Benji.

  “What are you doing here, Jimmy?” she asked. Unlike Zach and Benji who lived on the boat during the canal season, Jimmy had a home.

  Silence fell over her crew. It suddenly occurred to her that she was still wearing the green gown.

  “Cat got your tongue?” she asked, letting her exasperation color her tone.

  “Eli called me back,” Jimmy spoke up. “He said he came aboard to stow a new trunk for you—then someone tried to nab it.”

  “Where is Eli?”

  “The forward cargo hold—making our guest more comfortable.”

  “The thief is still here?”

  “Aye.” Jimmy nodded.

  Briar hurried off, following the catwalk down the center of the boat until she reached midship. Once on the other side of the stable, she dropped down into the cargo hold. Without a cargo, the large space was empty. Or it should be. A lantern hung from the catwalk overhead.

  “Eli?” For some reason, she kept her voice low—which was silly. This was her boat.

  “Captain?” Eli’s large form materialized out of the shadows.

  “What happened?”

  “I got the trunk, like you asked, but no sooner was it stowed than I found this fellow sneaking aboard.” He led Briar to where the lantern hung. Opening the shutter, Eli illuminated a man stretched across a couple of hay bales set against the stable wall. A bloody cloth was wrapped around his forehead.

  “He’s out cold,” Eli said.

  “Did you hit him?” she asked, a bit alarmed by the blood-covered rag.

  “He fought like a mad man. I didn’t mean to hit him that hard.”

  “You’re a big guy.” Certainly bigger than this fellow, though it was hard to tell in the dim light and with the man lying down.

  “It’s just a cut,” Eli added. “You know how head wounds bleed.”

  She knew that firsthand. Lifting the lantern from the hook, she moved it closer to the man lying on the hay. “Is this Mr. Martel?”

  “He walked onto the boat, demanding we return his property, and you can see how finely he’s dressed.”

  Eli was right. The suit was expensive—and splattered with blood. She moved the lantern up his body, pausing to hold it over his face. His skin was pale, and his forehead bound in that blood-soaked rag, but he didn’t appear much older than her twenty-two years.

  “I thought he’d be middle-aged, at least,” she said.

  “This could be his valet.”

  She unbuttoned his coat and pulled it open to reveal the silk waistcoat. Valets weren’t typically dressed this well, but Mr. Martel was most likely a very wealthy man.

  A watch chain dangled from the man’s pocket. She gingerly pulled it out. The case shone with a soft golden glow, illuminating a curling letter G etched into the surface. She pushed the button, and the cover swung open, the action smooth. The timepiece was clearly well cared for. Inside was a typical watch face, which was disappointing. She expected a ferromancer to have something a little more…elaborate as his personal time-keeping device.

  She snapped the watch closed and flipped it over. Another engraving had been worked into the metal, this one more worn. She leaned closer. Gray, never forget.

  Tipping the watch toward the light, she tried to see if it was signed.

  A hand seized her wrist and she gasped, looking down into the slate-blue eyes staring up at her.

  She opened her mouth, about to speak, but his eyes rolled back in his head and his hand fell from her wrist.

  Feeling guilty that he’d caught her snooping, she tucked the watch back into his pocket.

  “Bind him and gag him, should he wake again. Then get to your station. I’m getting underway.”

  “I thought your cousin was going to sell the boat.”

  “He can’t sell it if it isn’t here. And he can’t start a locomotive manufacturing business if he has no one to design the things.”

  “You’re going to kidnap Mr. Martel?”

  “I wouldn’t call it kidnapping.”

  Eli frowned. “What would you call it?”

  “Stopping another megalomaniacal metal mage and preserving our way of life.”

  Eli frowned at the unconscious man. “He doesn’t look old enough to be a meglo-whats-it.”

  She turned away. “Just do as I ask and get ready to cast off.” She left the cargo hold, smiling to herself. It was time to take her destiny into her own hands.

  Morning found the Briar Rose floating along the canal a few miles south of Waverly. A night run wasn’t unusual on the canal, but it made things harder. It was more difficult to judge their speed and see obstacles in their path—even with the bow-mounted Bulls-eye lantern shining on the towpath.

  Meeting another boat also presented a challenge. It was hard enough to keep the towlines from tangling in the daylight hours, let alone at night. But the hassle had been worth it. With twenty miles between her and her cousin, he wouldn’t be catching up with her anytime soon. He probably wouldn’t even notice her absence until she failed to show up for lunch, and even then, he would be more concerned about Mr. Martel’s absence.

  With the sun well up, and confident that her crew could handle any obstacle now, Briar climbed down the ladder into the cabin she had called home since she was three years old. She crossed the small space in a few strides and ducked into her stateroom—a curtained-off area that held her bunk—to change clothes. The dress was an annoyance on deck, and she was glad to be finished with it. She was half tempted to toss it in the canal, but it would make more sense to sell it. After all, she needed every dime she could get her hands on if she was going to buy the boat.

  Leaving her room a few minutes later, she stepped back out into the main cabin and spied Mr. Martel’s trunk beneath the table mounted on the wall. Fortunately, it was a small trunk and didn’t take up too much room—and there wasn’t any room to spare.

  Briar was relieved to see the lock still in place. She had been concerned about what the little metal dragon might get into down here. Seeing the lock now, it was hard to believe that it was anything other than what it appeared to be.

  She knelt beside the trunk and tentatively touched the lock. The metal surface dimpled at her touch, and she jerked her hand away with a gasp. A swirl of molten silver, and suddenly the little dragon clung to the hasp instead of the lock.

  It emitted a happy metal-on-metal scraping noise. The gray-blue eyes blinked up at her, then it leapt across the space that separated them. Like last time, Briar fell on her butt and the little dragon settled on her shoulder.

  “I guess I didn’t imagine it.” Briar reached up to rub a finger beneath the metal chin.

  The dragon cooed.

  “How are you, Lock?” she asked. “Do you care if I call you that?”

  A few clicks and a whirr of hidden gears was the answer. It really did seem to understand her.

  Leaving the little dragon on her shoulder, she opened the trunk and pulled out the top scroll, reaffirming that it was real as well. But was it truly ferromancy? She didn’t want to take it to the newspaper, create a big stir, then discover that it was a mundane design with some silly labeling. But who could she ask?

  She snapped her fingers. “Uncle Liam.” Liam Adams wasn’t a blood relation, but he and Uncle Charlie had been good friends. She had spent a lot of time with him and his wife when she was a child. They even referred to themselves as her godparents. Liam was well educated and had even lived in Europe as a younger man. Most importantly, he was a talented inventor.

  Taking out her pen and paper, she took a seat at her small table and composed a quick letter. Uncle Liam lived in Columbus. If she sent him the plans via the much quicker mail service, he could study them before she arrived.

  A knock sounded
on the hatch above her. “Cap’n Briar?”

  Lock let out a little squeak, then he scampered down the front of her waistcoat to her pocket and slipped inside.

  Curious, she reached in the pocket and pulled out the now familiar silver lock. Returning it to her pocket, she climbed the ladder to the upper deck. Eli waited a few feet away.

  “What is it?” she asked him.

  “Your prisoner is awake.”

  She frowned, not caring for his choice of words, but she could hardly argue that Mr. Martel was anything else. “Is that a problem?” she asked.

  “He’s demanding to see you.” Eli’s thick brows drew together. “And he’s really not happy.”

  4

  Briar followed Eli along the catwalk toward midship. The morning air was cool, and since they had just switched mule teams, they were making good time. The bank slipped past at four miles per hour. It helped that they were running light, but she planned to pick up a load. With what she had saved, a few good runs this summer should net her enough to buy the boat from Andrew. After all, he cared only about the money. If she bought the boat and removed the need for him to finance her, she was certain he would be glad to see her go.

  The sunlight beat down into the empty cargo hold. Eli had been kind enough to situate their guest beneath the shade of the catwalk, but that would change as the sun moved across the sky.

  Briar dropped into the hold and saw that her prisoner was sitting up on his bale of hay. The bloody rag was no longer wrapped around his forehead, exposing a small scabbed-over cut. But a second rag had been cinched around his mouth and his hands bound behind his back.

  He watched her approach, his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look so much angry as suspicious.

  “Remove his gag,” she told Eli.

  He stepped forward and did as she asked, tugging the gag from her prisoner’s mouth. The younger man worked his jaw a few times, his eyes remaining on her, though he didn’t speak.

  “I do apologize for the rough treatment,” she said to him.

  A frown shadowed his eyes, but he remained silent.