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

by Gwynn White

  Arwin nodded. “Good, you’re not completely useless.” She paused. “Still, I don’t know why someone would be transporting lilies. They’re not exactly valuable.”

  “And why can we smell their cargo?” I looked toward the rapidly falling sun and then back to Arwin. “Look, we can’t stop every time there might be some sort of danger. Answer me this: what are the odds that a flower merchant is actually an imperial soldier in disguise, waiting to spring a trap on us?”

  “Slim,” Arwin admitted.

  “Let’s just go see what’s over the next hill,” I suggested. “If they look friendly, maybe we can even get a ride on their cart.”

  Arwin looked down at her feet, which were wrapped in thinner threads than my own, and said, “It would be nice to get a break for a while. And we’d still be making progress toward Cleighton.”

  “So it’s decided?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  Together, still moving with caution, we made our way to the next gently rolling hilltop and looked out over the shadow-covered land. We weren’t far from sundown now, and while the stars would be brilliant enough to provide some light to guide our way, I wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of trekking cross-country at night.

  Sure enough, down in the next dip between hills, there was a wooden cart off to the side of the road. It had a tarp over top that was secured to four rickety-looking poles, one at each corner of the cart bed, and even from a distance I could see that something had fallen out of the cart and onto the ground.

  “Looks like just an unfortunate merchant,” I said to Arwin, who grunted in agreement.

  “You should go check it out,” she suggested.

  “Why me?”

  She gestured to my shoulder. “You’re a cripple. People take pity on you.”

  “Nobody took pity on—” I stopped myself before the last word could escape my lips.

  Arwin rounded on me, fire burning in her eyes. “Go on, finish it. Nobody took pity on me? Because of this?” she demanded, and she pulled her veil of hair out of the way to reveal the gruesome scar on the right side of her face. “I’m not crippled,” she said, “and I’m not something to be pitied. But yeah, you’re right, nobody cared about me back in Pointe.”

  “If I’d have known you, I would have—” I started to say, but she cut me off again.

  “Would have what? Given me food? Let me sleep under your roof? First, I already told you, I don’t want anyone’s pity. And second, you were even more hated than me!”

  I gaped at her, warm air from Berg Obehr tickling the back of my throat as my jaw hung open.

  “You’re cursed!” Arwin continued, not bothering to keep her voice down. “Your whole family died in a fire, leaving only you, a babe, unscathed in the ruins and unable to see your reflection. That’s not normal.” She breathed out a few choice curses as she shook her head. “I got burned just trying to survive, but you kill your whole family and get away without a mark. Depths take you, Mal.”

  An oppressive weight pressed against my chest as her words sunk in deep like the spriggan’s pointed roots. She was right. I was cursed, responsible for the deaths of everyone who’d given me love. I couldn’t remember the fire, only the aftermath—more than a decade of living under Answorth’s abuse, and going out each day with all the eyes of Pointe on my back, as if watching and waiting for me to cause more havoc and mayhem.

  “My life hasn’t been easy, either,” I said in a low whisper.

  A long silence stretched between us, and I told myself it was because Arwin was taking my quiet response to heart and having a change of opinion that would redefine our uneasy…well, not friendship, but something a little less. Partnership? I knew it was a lie, though, just like all the lies I’d told myself at night in Pointe to get past the loss of my family, to push aside the scorn of the villagers.

  “Hello?” called a querulous voice in the night. “Is someone out there?”

  8

  Arwin and I exchanged another look, and I frowned at the heat I still saw in her eyes. I should’ve been the one who was upset, not her. Get over yourself, I thought, not willing to speak the words to her face.

  “The merchant?” she whispered, breaking our silent exchange to glance back down the hill. It was dark, and we were crouched low following Arwin’s outburst. I didn’t think the merchant could see us, not yet, at least.

  I nodded. She could still see me through the dusky gloom, and I didn’t trust myself to talk.

  “Please, if anyone’s out there, I need help,” said the voice, and I could hear a feminine tone to it. An older woman, by the sound.

  “We should help,” I said.

  “Normally, I’d argue and say we should wait for sunrise, but…” Arwin sighed. “Drangr, I’m just too tired.” She heaved herself to her feet. “Let’s go help the broad.”

  “Really?”

  “Come on, before I change my mind.”

  I held out one hand and gripped forearms with Arwin, and she pulled me to my feet. We started down the other side of the hill, and before long, Arwin called out, “Hey, we’re coming!”

  “Oh, thank you!” the woman cried.

  It was another five minutes before we reached the bottom of the hill and reached the old woman’s cart, which I saw now wasn’t actually in such terrible shape. Something had broken and one of its rear wheels had come loose, and it was obvious that the hunched woman wasn’t strong enough to lift the cart on her own and reattach the wheel. The stray wheel, a solid, round piece of wood that was gray in the darkness, was propped up against the side of the leaning cart. At the front of the cart, tied in place by several leather straps and a wooden rig of some sort, was a big gray gaur with horns as long as my arms. It snorted softly as we approached, its eyes wide and alert.

  The debris on the ground was the shattered remains of a rather large pot, and it had evidently been holding several gallons of some lily-scented oil. There was a dark puddle on the ground where it had spilled, and the aroma of lilies was magnitudes more powerful now that we were close.

  “What happened here?” I asked the woman as we approached, and she seemed to take a step back at my words.

  “I know that voice,” she muttered, and her wrinkled face came close to mine to see better in the nighttime gloom. “Oh! You’re the helpful boy from the well!”

  A sense of recognition washed over me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Arwin’s one good eyebrow soar for the stars.

  “You two know each other?” she asked.

  “Yes, I remember,” I said quickly to cover my shock. I hadn’t expected to see the old woman again; in truth, he had thought she was one of the villagers, a resident of Mitbas. Perhaps she was heading to Harcour with her shipment of scented oils.

  “It must be fate that brought us together again,” she said, practically crooning. “If you could help me with this cart, that would be divine.”

  I gestured to my injured shoulder so that she would notice the bandages. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be.” Then I looked toward Arwin. “You could lift the cart, though, and I can slide the wheel into place with my good arm.”

  Arwin stood with her arms crossed and addressed the old woman. “If we help, you need to get us to Cleighton,” she said.

  “Arwin! Don’t be rude!” I turned back to the woman, whose wispy gray hair stuck out in errant curls. “We would be most appreciative for a ride to the nearest town,” I told her. “Our feet are worn from traveling, and—”

  “Oh, but of course! It’s the least I could do,” the woman said, and her gray-toothed smile returned, barely visible in the dark. “The busted wheel is just over there.”

  “Arwin?” I prompted.

  She sighed, but I thought I saw a small smirk curl the edge of her lip. It was hard to be grumpy around the old woman, even though she only seemed to be a burden so far. I’d had to gather her water back in Mitbas, and now she had a faulty cart wheel, but her personality was such that I was smiling now
in spite of it all.

  Arwin positioned herself at the sunken corner of the cart, along the edge where the wooden bed scraped the dirt road, and braced her arm and shoulder against the wood. “Ready when you are,” she said.

  I grabbed the wheel and crouched down low next to her, ready to slide it into place. “On three,” I told her. “One…two…three!”

  She threw her whole body into the motion, pushing off against the ground with her legs at the same time that she heaved with her arms. She threw her shoulder against the side of the cart, and the whole thing lifted in one swift, jerking motion. “Go on, Mal, do it!”

  I fumbled for a second before getting the axle in the hole—it was hard to find in the dark—and the length of it slid through until an inch or so of the axle reappeared on the outer edge. “What holds it in place?” I asked the old woman.

  “Oh, I just had that piece,” she muttered, and I heard her scraping around for something.

  “Hurry, Mal,” Arwin grunted.

  “Oh, you can put that down. The wheel is on.”

  “Really? I can’t see anything up here.” She let go of the cart, and it fell back to the ground with another heavy lurch. I wasn’t sure how she’d managed to lift it in the first place, now that I saw how much weight was settling back to earth. “You could’ve said so sooner,” she huffed.

  “Here it is!” the old woman cried triumphantly. She shuffled over to my side, and I felt her deposit a small nub of steel in my hand. “Just thread that through the hole and it’ll be good to go!”

  I felt around and found the small slot where the metal piece belonged. After it was inserted, a small nub still stuck out, enough that it would prevent the wheel from moving forward again along the axle.

  Strange that it came loose in the first place, I noted. It didn’t look like a very flimsy construction; the metal should’ve stayed in place on its own, even on a bumpy road like this one.

  “It’s all in place,” I announced, and the old woman gave a little clap for joy.

  “Glad tidings indeed,” she said, grinning. Her eyes fell on both of us in turn. “Now, you’re, er, Mal?” she confirmed, looking at me.

  I nodded.

  “And Arwin?” the woman continued.

  Arwin stayed silent.

  My friend’s countenance didn’t seem to dampen the old woman’s spirit. “My name is Mabaya,” she said, smiling gently. “Climb aboard, both of you, please.” She regarded the broken pottery shards lying on the ground. “There’s plenty of room, unfortunately, now that I’ve lost some of my wares. Still, it’ll be good to have company on the way to Landis.”

  “Landis?” Arwin echoed. “We need to get to Cleighton.”

  “First, we need to sell these wares. Then we’ll see about finding you a ride to Cleighton.”

  I looked between Mabaya and Arwin and saw the latter’s shoulders droop in reluctant acceptance. “Sounds like a plan,” I said.

  That gray, toothy grin reappeared. “All aboard, then.”

  9

  How long have we been riding?” Arwin murmured sleepily. She stirred against the side of my arm and rubbed sleep from her eyes.

  It had been a few hours at least. The ashen mountains to our right—wherein lay Pointe, somewhere amidst the old trees—were backlit by the light of the morning sun, its brilliant rays chasing away the pale light of the evening stars.

  It wasn’t exactly comfortable in the bed of Mabaya’s cart, but at least we were off our feet and moving faster than before, and the gentle scent of lilies managed to permeate slightly from the wide, heavy urns of oil nestled next to us on the cart. Mabaya had covered them with a scratchy burlap tarp, which Arwin had taken as soon as the old woman had moved out of view, repurposing it as a blanket for herself.

  Mabaya’s gaur left behind pungent leavings every so often, so the lily aroma was a welcome relief.

  “We’re probably getting close,” I told her. “Sun’s coming up.”

  Arwin seemed to realize where her head was and sat up abruptly, inhaling sharply as she rose. “Good.” She wiped a trail of drool from her lip and glanced guiltily at my damp arm. “Sorry.”

  “I didn’t even notice,” I lied.

  Thankfully, I hadn’t seen any more riders from Mitbas. It seemed we were beyond the bounds of their law. That was good, because I didn’t know what I would have done if they had come galloping up behind the cart in the darkness. Could Arwin and I have hidden under the blanket? Or inside one of the lily pots? I eyed both items and frowned; either option would’ve been too small to fool a soldier, even at a casual glance.

  Arwin folded up the tarp and stuffed it between a pair of urns. Then she leaned out the side of the cart and banged her fist twice against Mabaya’s small steering coach. “Hey, old woman—”

  “Arwin!” I scolded, but she silenced me with a shove.

  “How close are we to Landis?” she asked.

  Mabaya stuck her wispy-haired head over the side and gave Arwin a disapproving frown. “I’m not that old,” she argued. “Just wise with age.”

  “You must be a genius by now,” Arwin muttered, and I got the impression that Mabaya heard her comment.

  “The city should be visible just over the next rise. Bruha will get us there soon,” the woman added, patting her gaur—who was brown, I could tell, now that I saw it in the light of the sun. The beast of burden groaned in response, its cry low and loud. “We’ll head to the market square, offload these jugs to my local buyer, and maybe pick up something new to take to Cleighton.”

  “You’re coming with us?” I asked. That was news to me. “Well, uh, that’s great!”

  Arwin shot me a dirty look that said I was crazy for wanting to bring an old lady along with us, which would probably slow us down just as the Empire was likely sending our warrants for our immediate arrest. I wasn’t sure how she managed to fit so much into such a brief glare.

  “Cleighton is home to the best forgesmiths in the Empire,” Mabaya said, so closely mirroring Arwin’s words from last night that it was as if she’d come up with them on her own. “It shouldn’t be hard to find someone in need of transport.”

  “So…you’re a smuggler?”

  “Such a crass word for such a noble profession.” Mabaya twisted her head around suddenly, and I looked past her to see the tips of sharp steeples piercing the horizon between the hilltop and the cloudless sky above, which was becoming a lighter and lighter blue by the minute. A moment later, the rest of the buildings came into view, and Arwin gasped.

  Soaring buildings of green brick and yellow-tinted glass rose up as if constructed from the earth itself, molded to the rolling rise and fall of the hills. Sunshine glinted off the bright colors and sent a cascade of light down to the streets below. The cropland and isolated farmhouses gave way to more closely packed houses built with busy thoroughfares in mind. Mabaya slowed her gaur to a crawl as we entered the local traffic. The day was yet young, but Landis was already awake and bustling. Our driver seemed to know her way around the city, though, and she half steered, half coerced the gaur into turning down a side street. The din quieted almost immediately, replaced by shadows and near silence.

  Mabaya pulled the reins up short, slowing the cart to a halt in front of a recessed doorway with steps leading down to a simple red wooden door. The only embellishments were a gold doorknocker and a one-way peephole that gazed out onto the alleyway.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I thought we were going to the market square,” Arwin added.

  Mabaya chuckled. “That was a bit of misdirection, I’m afraid.” She glanced between us with a guilty look before dismounting. “I couldn’t be sure you two weren’t soldiers in disguise.” Her guilt-ridden frown turned into a smirk. “Now I know that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  “Wh-what do you mean?” I stuttered.

  “Oh, don’t worry, child. Your secret is safe with me. Nobody plans to walk the whole way from Mitbas to Cl
eighton with naught but the clothes on their backs, not anyone with half a brain and honest intentions, anyway.” Mabaya gave a wicked wink. “None of us are friends of the Empire’s minions. We’ll be thick as thieves because we’re all, well, thieves.”

  “I’m not,” I offered, raising my hand slightly.

  “Only because I got there first,” Arwin said.

  “And I thought you were just a smuggler.”

  “We all have histories, little one. Thieving is a young woman’s game, but I can smuggle and fence till the day I die. Now give me a hand with these jugs.”

  Arwin paused. “You brought us along as hired help?”

  “Minus the coin, yes. Your payment is safe passage as far as Cleighton, assuming you prove your usefulness before then.” She looked meaningfully to the three jugs that hadn’t moved yet. “Which you are failing miserably at so far, I might add.”

  I grinned at the old woman’s attitude, putting Arwin in her place as handily as Answorth used to put food in his stomach. I nearly reached out to pick up one of the jugs, but then remembered the bandages around my arm and shoulder. “I can’t pick it up with one arm,” I said, eyeing the large, heavy pottery.

  Arwin sighed and stretched her arms out wide, gripping the sides of the jug and holding it tight against her chest. Thankfully there wasn’t much to get in the way in that region. “I can hear it sloshing around inside,” Arwin grunted, and I saw that her face was already getting red. I had no idea how much a massive urn of oil weighed, but I was suddenly glad to be infirmed.

  Almost without effort, Mabaya scooped up another jug, leaving just one more on the bed of the cart. “Mal, you can knock on our host’s door,” she said. “Then come back and attend to the cart.”

  “But I—”

  “You don’t want anyone to come by and steal my wares, do you? Not after we’ve come all this way, surely?”

  I frowned at her reasoning. Of course I didn’t want her oil to be stolen, but I also didn’t want to be left alone in an alley in a strange city where Mabaya apparently thought it likely that dangerous thieves might be lurking. I would’ve much preferred to enter through the red door with the security peephole.