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

by Gwynn White

  She got to her feet and after pausing to rub out the stiffness in her lower back, she closed the ledger and returned it to the shelf above the table.

  Changing into her nightgown, she extinguished the lantern and climbed into her bunk.

  Lock crawled up the blanket and curled up on her pillow. She fell asleep stroking his glossy scales.

  Briar woke at dawn—which was later than her customary time to rise—not feeling very well rested. Her sleep had been fitful and she had woken often. Each time she did, Lock would snuggle closer, ultimately making a bed in her hair. How his fine claws and intricate scales and joints didn’t become entangled in it, she had no idea.

  Leaving her cabin, she headed for the bow to rouse the crew—if they weren’t already up. Crossing the catwalk, she glanced down into the cargo hold. Last night, Eli had returned Mr. Grayson to the bales of hay where he’d been originally tied, but at the moment, they were empty.

  She hurried toward the front of the boat, noticing for the first time the absence of her crew. Though with the night run the night before last, they had likely been as exhausted as she was.

  Reaching the bunkhouse in the bow, she rapped on the hatch. Had Mr. Grayson escaped while the crew slept?

  When no one answered her summons, she began to fear something more sinister. Had Grayson escaped and killed the crew? Why hadn’t he come for the trunk—or her?

  In the quiet, she heard the low rumble of male voices. She backtracked to the stable at midship. Dropping to the lower level, she stepped up to the door and found Zach and Benji inside, tending the mules.

  “Hey, boys,” she greeted them. “Where’s the rest of the crew—and our guest?”

  Zach elbowed his brother. Unable to speak, Zach had to rely on Benji for communication—which made it hard since fifteen-year-old Benji tended to turn bright red and go mute around her as well.

  “They took the prisoner into the woods,” Benji answered.

  “Why?”

  “I, um, think they went looking for an outhouse, Captain.” Benji’s cheeks turned pink.

  “Oh.” She hadn’t stopped to consider that. “I guess our passenger amenities leave something to be desired.”

  Zach nodded, a faint frown on his features, giving Briar the distinct impression that he wasn’t pleased with the way she had handled this.

  She sighed. He was right.

  “In the absence of Jimmy, I guess I’d better go start breakfast.”

  Zach gave her an alarmed look.

  “I know. But I didn’t get a chance to advertise for a new cook.” Mrs. Jenkins, the elderly woman who had been cooking for Briar and her crew since before her uncle passed away, had decided to retire and move in with her daughter in Millport. They’d had a rough time since then.

  By the time Jimmy returned, she had burned the bacon, and her attempt at eggs had yielded a runny goo dotted with bits of shells.

  The crew ate in polite silence, but Briar knew they were as disgusted as she was.

  “We’ll dock in Chillicothe to fix the rudder,” she said as Jimmy gathered the dirty dishes, most with food still on them. “Let’s ask around and see if we can’t find a cook.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Jimmy said, taking her plate last. She’d left just as much food as the others. “We’ll—” He didn’t get to finish his statement as a thump followed by the sound of breaking dishes came from below decks.

  “Damnation!” Grayson’s angry shout carried to them.

  Eli immediately came to his feet.

  Briar stepped into his path. “I’ll take care of this.”

  “Captain,” Eli began.

  “I think you’ve tormented the poor man enough.”

  Eli frowned. “He’s a dangerous man, Captain.”

  She studied him. “Is there more to this? You seem to have taken a particular dislike to him. He’s just an engineer’s valet.”

  Eli crossed his large arms. “He doesn’t fight like a valet.”

  Briar lifted a brow. “I assume you refer to your initial confrontation? He may not be a valet at all. He might be a bodyguard.” He was very protective of his employer’s belongings, though she wasn’t so certain that bodyguards packed trunks.

  She moved past Eli, but his large hand came to rest on her shoulder.

  “I wish you would listen to me,” he said softly.

  “Why start now?” She gave him a smile to let him know she was teasing. “I’ll be fine. He’s not going to molest me on my own boat.”

  Eli sighed and took his hand from her shoulder. “Call if you need assistance.”

  “Ever the big brother.” She smiled and shook her head, then left him standing there. Much like Andrew, Eli hadn’t yet noticed that she had grown up.

  Briar found Mr. Grayson on his feet, pacing at the end of the rope that secured his hands and bound him to the side of the cargo hold. At least, Eli had bound his hands in front of him today.

  The remains of his breakfast plate were on the other side of the cargo hold, a trail of runny eggs and charred bacon marking its flight across the hold.

  She bent to retrieve the pieces of broken plate, and when she straightened, Grayson had stopped his pacing to glare at her.

  “Have you come to torment your caged beast?” he demanded.

  “You are acting like one.”

  “I have done you no ill. As a matter of fact, I helped you. Yet you treat me like an animal. No, I’ve seen your mules. You treat me worse than an animal.”

  She sighed. “Look, I know the conditions aren’t the best—”

  “I’m sleeping on a bale of hay. I’ve worn the same clothes for two days, and I can’t take a piss unless someone holds my—” He stopped, seeming to remember who he was speaking to.

  There was some truth to what he said, and she certainly wasn’t proud of how things had transpired. “I’m really only interested in those plans.” She studied him. “I don’t have to take you, but if I release you, you’ll run back to your master and—”

  “No man is my master.” He regarded her with those cold eyes as if debating whether to do her some harm. With that look in his eye, she wondered if Eli might be right about him.

  “We’ll be docking in Chillicothe. I aim to get the rudder repaired, so it could be a lengthy stop.” She studied him. “I could have the boys take you into town.”

  “And what? Pummel me in a back alley so they don’t get blood on your precious boat.”

  “Take you to the Valley House Hotel. They have hot baths—and a laundry service. My treat.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch.” She let her anger out a notch. “I never wanted any of this, but I’m not going to stand by and let some damn ferromancer and the railroad he works for destroy my way of life. If you have ever fought for something that was important to you, then you might understand. And if you’re just an innocent caught in the middle of this, then I’m truly sorry, but I’ve never backed down from a fight, and I’m not going to start now.”

  He didn’t respond, but he looked a little less angry.

  “As for the breakfast,” she continued, “my cook retired last week, and I’ve yet to hire on a new one. Your breakfast was no different from what the rest of us ate—or tried to.”

  “There’s no one on this boat who can fry an egg?”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “That is sad.”

  “And I suppose you could?” she demanded.

  “Unless you prefer your egg poached, perhaps with a hollandaise sauce?”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, but wasn’t about to admit it. She arched a brow instead.

  “I’d be happy to demonstrate.” He held out his bound hands.

  She sighed. “I can’t release you.”

  He dropped his hands. “I won’t leave without the construct.”

  She placed a hand over the pocket where Lock hid. “You mean this piece of Mr. Martel? Why are you so set on protecting him?”
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  “Why are you so set on destroying him?”

  “I’ve given you my reason, but I’ve yet to hear yours. Why would you serve a man who can lock your soul in iron?”

  “You know nothing about any of this.”

  “Then educate me.”

  He pressed his lips together, studying her. For a moment, she thought he might speak, but his shoulders dropped a moment later and he remained silent.

  “That’s what I thought.” She turned away. “I’ll send someone down for you when we arrive,” she said over her shoulder.

  He didn’t respond.

  She left him standing there and went to get the crew moving. The sooner this errand was finished, the sooner she could get back to her life.

  6

  Chillicothe was larger, and much busier than Waverly had been. It also supported a more varied market and offered more services, especially to the canal industry. Fortunately, the parts for the rudder were readily available, and there wasn’t much of a wait for the repair. Aside from the expense, it would be a relatively painless process.

  She had expected Grayson to take her up on her offer immediately, but he stayed around to watch the rudder repairs. She wondered at that until he stepped forward to collect the metal pieces he’d used for the temporary fix. Were they valuable? Or would he get in trouble if Mr. Martel found something missing?

  Once the small pieces were tucked in his pocket, he was happy to depart with Zach and Benji for his promised bath.

  “Are you certain about this?” Eli frowned after Grayson.

  “He’s my problem,” she snapped, tired of the constant nagging. “Stay with the boat. I’m going to find us some cargo—and maybe a cook.”

  “Miss Briar,” Eli tried to stop her.

  “Let it be.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond before walking off.

  The stop proved to be a profitable one when Jimmy was able to secure a load of bricks and some lumber for the trip north. They would no longer be running light, but the time frame for the delivery was reasonable and Briar expected no problems.

  By mid-afternoon, the boat repairs were finished and they were able to begin loading the cargo. With both holds filled with lumber and brick, Briar realized she’d have to find a new place for Mr. Grayson. The crew’s cabin only held four bunks, and those were occupied. The stables were out, and Briar hoped the cook’s bunk in her cabin would soon be occupied. It looked like Mr. Grayson would have to make do with the deck, which should suit him fine. The crew often slept on the deck on warm summer nights—provided it didn’t rain.

  Briar glanced up at the blue sky overhead. It certainly didn’t promise rain anytime soon.

  A jingle of tack made her glance over, and she was surprised to see Benji leading one of the mules ashore.

  “Did Mr. Grayson finally finish his bath?” she asked him. “That took long enough.”

  “I believe he was waiting for his clothes to be laundered.”

  She grunted. “Is Zach still with him?”

  “Yes, waiting at his door.”

  She sighed. “I guess I need to go get his dandy butt moving.” They were ready to shove off. “Go ahead and hitch up the team. We’ll head out as soon as I return.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  She left him to field any questions the crew might have as to her whereabouts, and went to round up her squeaky clean passenger.

  The baths were located at the back of the Valley House Hotel. Briar had visited more than once when docked for the night and not in the mood to haul her own hot water.

  She found the attendant folding a stack of freshly laundered towels. “Bath, ma’am?”

  “No. I’ve come to collect a crewman. The name’s Grayson.”

  “The handsome gentleman in the fine clothes?” The attendant’s eyebrows lifted. “He didn’t look like a boatman.”

  He certainly dressed like a gentleman, but she wasn’t so sure about the rest of it. “He’s more passenger than crewman. Which room?”

  “Room two.” The girl handed her a stack of towels. “He’ll be wanting these.”

  Briar started to point out that she wasn’t here to bring him a towel, but figured it was easier than sending the attendant in a dozen times to get him moving.

  Tucking the towels under her arm, she thanked the girl and went in search of room two. She found it at the end of the hall, but to her surprise, Zach wasn’t waiting outside the door.

  A bit of unease tightened her stomach as she remembered Eli’s warnings. If Grayson had taken advantage of Zach…

  She knocked on the door.

  “Yes, come in.” Grayson called out, his accent making it clear she had the right room.

  She opened the door and stepped inside. The small room was steamy and uncomfortably warm, the stone floor slick with moisture. A curtained partition blocked half the small room from view, including the large brass tub she knew rested on the other side.

  The door closed behind her with a soft click.

  “Did you get more hot water, Zach?” Grayson called out before she could speak.

  Briar gripped the towels she held, her anger flaring. How dare he use kind, gentle Zach as his servant. Zach was his guard.

  She stepped around the curtain and found that Mr. Grayson was indeed still in the tub. Submerged to the chest, his bare arms rested on the sides of the tub, while his head lay on a folded towel, his eyes closed.

  “Zach is not your manservant,” she told him.

  Grayson sat up with a gasp, moving so quickly he sloshed a little water over the sides of the tub. “Dear God, woman. Do you always walk in on a gentleman’s bath?”

  “A gentleman?” She smiled, amused by his reaction. Her amusement faded as her eyes were drawn to the livid scar down the center of his chest, made visible now that he was no longer reclining. “Jesus,” she whispered. “What happened to you?”

  “Do you mind?” He pressed a hand to his chest as if ashamed. “You are determined to leave me no shred of dignity.”

  “Dignity? I came here to tell you that you need to cut the primping short. We’re ready to leave.”

  “Time to tie me to the wall once more? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No. The cargo holds are full. I’ll have to tie you to the deck.” She refused to let him rattle her. “So get moving. I want to cast off.”

  “Then I won’t keep you.” Without warning, he shoved himself to his feet.

  Heat washed over her face, and she knew her cheeks were scarlet.

  The scar on his chest ran nearly the length of his sternum, stopping just above the well-defined muscles of his stomach. She didn’t see any other scars.

  “Are you going to hand me a towel?” he asked.

  She jerked her eyes back to his face.

  One corner of his mouth curled upward. “Well?”

  She dropped the towels on the floor and turned to go. She’d taken one step when Zach stepped around the curtain, a steaming bucket in one hand.

  “We’re leaving in five minutes,” she said, then hurried past him. She escaped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind her.

  The bath attendant stepped from the next room, carrying a basket of towels. “He about done in there?”

  “Almost.”

  The girl nodded, then headed back toward the front of the building.

  Briar hesitated, not wanting to share the hall and be forced to hold a conversation.

  “I know,” Grayson’s voice carried through the door. “I shouldn’t have done that, but she just barges in here and starts asking about my scars. That’s private, you know?”

  Zach didn’t answer of course, but Briar had no doubt that he understood Grayson’s view. Zach’s neck and from what she heard, a good deal of his torso bore scars from his attempt to rescue his parents and siblings from their burning boat almost five years ago. Benji had been the only one he had saved.

  “You can punch me, if you like,” Grayson continued. “I deserve it.”
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br />   Briar tensed, but no sound of flesh hitting flesh reached her.

  She hurried away from the door, shamed by what she had done. It was another example of her bad behavior toward Mr. Grayson. If he proved to just be a servant of Mr. Martel, she was going to feel terrible.

  In her mind’s eye, she could see his scar again. She flashed back to that murder she’d witnessed in Portsmouth. The villain had cut open the victim. What if that glint of something metallic had been a ferromancer device, pulled from the victim’s body? Did they implant such devices in their slaves?

  Horrified by the prospect, Briar stopped just outside the hotel, trying to collect herself. She remembered the way Solon had stopped in the street. Something had clearly drawn his attention. Grayson had claimed it wasn’t Lock. What if it had been Grayson himself? Had Solon…felt some ferromantic device implanted in Grayson? Something implanted by Mr. Martel?

  If Grayson had fallen prey to such a heinous act, no wonder he was ashamed of that scar. It was glaring evidence of the fact that he had been violated. His comment on her leaving him no dignity suddenly made sense.

  Unable to face him—or her crew—at this moment, she stepped away from the hotel and followed the busy sidewalk into the next street, away from the docks.

  She rubbed her hand over her waistcoat pocket where Lock rested. The little dragon had crawled inside on his own after she dressed this morning. If Martel was vile enough to implant some device in Grayson against his will, how could he create something as sweet as Lock from his own soul?

  She turned down the next street, noting the people around her going about their business, oblivious to her turmoil. She wished she could be one of them again and continue in blissful ignorance of these foreign metal mages.

  “You can’t change the past,” she muttered. Ignoring the problem would not make it go away. What she needed was knowledge, but her only source was Grayson. She certainly wasn’t going to ask him.

  Briar turned down another street letting her feet carry her where they would while her mind tried to sort out the problem. She wasn’t the kind to sit back and wait for a solution. She preferred to address her problems with decisive action. But she had no idea what action to take.