Duty Bound

by Lindsay Buroker

  “There are other mountains in the world.”

  “Some more resource-rich than others,” Zenia said. “If the archaeologists are to be believed, trolls and ogres had a presence in this area ten thousand years ago. Maybe they want to reclaim the land.”

  “Ten thousand years ago?” Rhi waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure ancient history is fascinating, Zenia, but aren’t you supposed to be focused on finding that dwarf? Both of those dwarves?”

  “We can’t let the rest of our work pile up while we work on one case.” That was a true statement, but Zenia also did not know where to go next with Grindmor’s disappearance. She didn’t want to ask Iridium for a favor, nor did she want Jev to barter with the odious woman. She wanted to figure out the problem on her own, as she had so often in the past, without help. Unfortunately, she didn’t have any ideas at the moment. Maybe if she went for a walk and let her mind mull over things, she would come up with something.

  “You’re stuck, aren’t you?” Rhi asked.

  “No.”

  “You’re usually so focused on an assignment that you wouldn’t notice if those stacks of folders jumped off the desk and smacked you on the face.”

  Zenia glared at her. Maybe it had been a mistake to hire someone who knew her so well.

  “I’m getting caught up on work, but I haven’t forgotten Grindmor,” Zenia said. “Sometimes, you get ideas on how to solve a problem when you’re working on something completely unrelated. Or maybe all of this is related. What if whoever kidnapped Grindmor knew the king’s dwarven visitors were coming and intentionally wanted to start an incident? One that might ensure the dwarves of the world severed the rest of their ties with us and wouldn’t come to our aid if we were invaded.”

  “Sounds like a stretch.”

  Zenia leaned back in the chair and gripped her chin. She’d been half-joking—or half defending her lack of action on Grindmor’s case—but now that she considered the words, she didn’t know if they were as much of a stretch as Rhi thought. So far, she hadn’t read any reports that truly suggested an invasion force was on the way, just that it would be a good idea to keep an eye on the races that had always hated humans because they seemed to be making preparations for something. For all she knew, they planned to invade each other’s lands. Still…

  “Who would stand to gain if Kor were invaded?” Zenia mused.

  “Uh, no one? Or only the invaders.”

  “That’s not true. In every major upheaval, there are people who lose—usually those tied to the old status quo—and people who win. Those who have been waiting for opportunities to jump into the chaos and find them. Some make them.”

  Rhi’s face twisted into a skeptical expression. Zenia didn’t let that deter her.

  “Who stands to gain from an invasion or some kind of upheaval in Kor?” she repeated. “It would depend on what the result was, I suppose. Would invaders pillage and loot? Or overthrow the monarchy and dismantle the kingdom? If that happened, the zyndar class might disappear. At the least, they might not have anyone to back up their claims that certain lands belong to them.”

  “Most of them have enough people to make armies of their own and defend their castles. Zenia, even if there was an invasion, we’d fight it off. We have lots of people.”

  “Do we? We sent a lot of young men to the war. And a lot of them didn’t come back. I haven’t looked to see what the latest population census says, but I wager there’s a big gap now in the generation of men from twenty to forty.”

  “Then the women will fight off the invaders.” Rhi yawned. “I’ll leave you here to your crazy mullings. Do get some sleep though, eh? It’ll be midnight soon.”

  Zenia, concerned by the reports and having no plans to go to sleep at all, offered a noncommittal wave of her fingers as Rhi headed for the door. She had a niggling feeling she was close to an answer, or at least a lead, and she intended to keep reading files until she found it.

  By the time he and Lornysh borrowed a rowboat from the watch and located Iridium’s river entrance, Jev was yawning so widely he scared fish away with the creaking of his jaw. Even with Lornysh’s nature-attuned elven magic, it had been difficult to find the low opening in the side of the riverbank that marked the spot. Mangroves grew thick along the shoreline, and dozens of their long roots dangled into the water. Had they been relying on the light from Jev’s lantern alone, they never would have found the spot at night, but Lornysh’s night vision was far superior to his.

  “Are you certain this goes all the way into the city?” Lornysh asked from the bow of the boat as he pushed aside roots.

  Jev was in charge of rowing, so he had to twist his neck to see into the dark hole they were entering. The low dark hole. Lornysh knelt and bent his head as they passed into it. Roots brushed Jev’s hair even though he sat on the bench.

  In a couple of spots, the roots had been cut back. Others appeared to have been cut below the surface so they could be pushed aside, then fall back into place like a curtain.

  “No,” Jev said. “Zenia’s dragon tear didn’t include me in whatever vision it relayed to her. It’s a rude little gem.”

  Lornysh, peering into the pitch darkness ahead of the boat, did not comment. Night had long since fallen by the time they’d started their trek out to the river, so no light seeped into the area from outside. Only the weak lantern sitting on the bench opposite Jev provided a hint of illumination. It wasn’t enough to reach the sides of the passage they had entered, though he could see the dirt ceiling above them, roots dangling from it.

  “You better row harder,” Lornysh said. “The current is strong.”

  “I noticed.” Jev faced the rear again and put his whole body into the rowing motion. “Can your magical elven senses tell how far back it goes?” He was a little surprised Lornysh couldn’t simply sniff the air or wiggle an ear—whatever he did to call upon his innate magic—and sense if the passage led into the city.

  “A ways.”

  “Your accuracy would impress a geometry teacher.”

  When Lornysh didn’t respond to the quip, Jev fell silent and rowed, trusting his friend would direct him as needed. He hoped the river didn’t twist and turn for miles before ending up in Iridium’s lair, because his back already felt the strain of rowing against the current.

  He reminded himself to ask Lornysh to spar later and spend more time exercising in general. It had been a regular part of army life, but now that he had a desk job, he would have to be careful not to let himself grow pudgy. That would make it more difficult to get Zenia to ogle his chest. To get women to ogle his chest, he corrected himself firmly.

  Something moved in the water at the edge of the lamplight, and Jev almost dropped his oar. He tightened his grip and peered into the gloom. The light reflected off a pair of large beady eyes staring at him.

  A long tail swished, stirring the water at the surface, and he identified the long body of a crocodile. He released an oar to drop his hand to his pistol. Or would the short sword be a better choice if it attacked? He’d gotten out of the habit of carrying weapons in the city, but he’d known he might need them if he walked into Iridium’s stronghold, so he’d gone back for them. Now, he was glad.

  The crocodile swished its tail again and swam with the current downstream, toward the river and the exit. He wondered what it had been doing way back in here.

  “As long as it’s gone now,” he muttered to himself.

  Lornysh glanced back at him. His gaze flicked dismissively in the direction the crocodile had gone, then back to Jev. No doubt, he’d sensed it and known it was no threat to his ferocious warrior might.

  “Is the elven ambassador talking to you since we arrested his wayward scientist?” Jev asked, hoping to head off any discussion about his unreasonable fear of crocodiles. Also, hoping the sound of voices would keep any other crocodiles away and drive back the oppressive silence. Aside from the trickle of water, there was nothing to hint they were now rowing under a city full of peo
ple. The branches and dirt above them had transitioned to solid rock. They could be rowing into the center of the world.

  “Seldom.”

  “But he hasn’t kicked you out of the tower, right? That seems promising.”

  “He didn’t kick Yilnesh out of the tower, either, and he’d murdered royalty.”

  “So, standards for guests are low, huh?”

  “He did give me an odd warning this morning,” Lornysh said. “He suggested I get out of the city.”

  “Are you sure that wasn’t his subtle way of saying he wanted you out of his tower? Do you think I should come in and apologize for my part in burning the courtyard?” Jev felt guilty about that. He’d ridden by the tower during the day and looked through the gate long enough to see all the burned trees and foliage.

  “I don’t think he wants your apology. And no, he wasn’t simply trying to get me to leave. He implied that trouble was coming to the city, and he said he’d written the king—the Taziir king—asking permission to abandon the embassy.”

  “Really?” Jev squinted back over his shoulder, but Lornysh was peering into the darkness ahead and didn’t notice. “That’s an extreme move, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps. The dwarves left their embassy in your city long ago.”

  “I didn’t know that. I wonder if they’ll return now that Targyon has made his overture.”

  “Overture?” Lornysh glanced back.

  Jev considered if Targyon would mind him sharing the information with more than Zenia. Normally, he wouldn’t blab, but Targyon knew Lornysh, and Jev didn’t think he would object, especially since Lornysh was helping with the hunt for the missing dwarves.

  “Five hundred dwarves are on their way to Korvann,” Jev said and summarized the rest. At the end, he joked, “Maybe that’s why your ambassador wants to leave.”

  “No, he wouldn’t object to dwarves coming.”

  “Would he object to someone else coming?” Jev asked.

  During their meeting, Targyon hadn’t mentioned extending his offer to any other races. Long ago, the elves might have accepted, but those days were long past now. Targyon certainly wouldn’t have invited orcs or trolls, or any of the other races that had warred with humans—frequently and with great passion—in previous centuries. He might have invited the neutral unicorns, if he thought they would come, but Dr. Oligonite was the only one Jev had ever seen. His understanding was that the hoofed people preferred to avoid politics and conflicts, no matter what race was at the heart of it.

  “Possibly, but he didn’t say anyone in particular was coming,” Lornysh said. “He only said that trouble was coming. I’m not positive if it was something that would target me specifically or if he meant trouble for your city.”

  “You specifically? I know you wouldn’t have left any assassins alive on your trail.”

  Lornysh snorted softly. “No.”

  “If he’s thinking of leaving, that suggests he believes the trouble could affect the city and present a danger to him, right? Either that, or he’s mortally offended about his garden and feels he can’t stand being among humans any longer.”

  Jev meant the latter as a joke—at least, he hoped it was a joke—but Lornysh did not respond. Worried he had offended his friend, Jev craned his neck around. Lornysh was peering off into the darkness again. Jev was about to ask if he’d seen or sensed something when Lornysh spoke.

  “We may have trouble here.”

  “Oh?” Jev almost stopped rowing, but if he did, the current would carry them backward. The passage had widened, and he could no longer see the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to see the sides earlier and still couldn’t, but he had the sense of them being farther away now, the river being slower, shallower, and wider. A few stalactites hung down from above, his light barely brushing their tips.

  “There’s something magical ahead of us.”

  “Like a dragon tear?” Jev knew Lornysh could sense those.

  “No. We may want to turn—”

  A loud splash came from the darkness ahead, and Lornysh did not finish the sentence.

  Jev stopped rowing. Whatever had made that splash, it sounded heavy. Heavier than a crocodile.

  “Take us out,” Lornysh ordered as another loud splash erupted.

  Whatever made it was closer now.

  Jev cursed and rowed with only his right arm to spin the boat around. He didn’t want to leave—they would have wasted hours if they couldn’t get in this way—but he trusted that the usually dauntless Lornysh wouldn’t give the order if it wasn’t warranted.

  “What is it?” Jev asked.

  “A magical creature. A water golem, I believe.”

  “Founders’ hells, who in the city would be able to conjure up one of those?”

  “I believe it was set here to act as a permanent sentinel and a magical alarm.”

  “That doesn’t answer my—”

  This time, Jev saw the splash. A huge one. He’d turned the boat enough that he now faced the way they’d been going before, and as a hulking dark figure moved toward them, he decided that was not a good thing. It was a strange blend of shadow and water that reflected the lantern light.

  Jev rowed hard, but the indistinct creature surged toward their boat.

  “Lornysh,” Jev blurted, rising to his feet and yanking his pistol free.

  The boat rocked alarmingly, but he kept his balance. He pointed the weapon and fired, though he feared it would have no effect on a magical creature. And how the hells had Iridium come to possess a magical creature? He knew Grindmor had made those rock golems. Could a kidnapped dwarf have been convinced to conjure this? Could dwarves even use their magic on water?

  The bullet disappeared into the amorphous watery form and did nothing.

  Lornysh sprang past Jev, landing lightly in the back of the boat, his bow drawn. The creature rose fully from the water, spreading blob-like arms. It had no eyes or even a distinct head and appeared to be made entirely from water. Lornysh fired at it, one arrow after the other, his movements barely stirring the boat. The arrows disappeared into the creature’s watery body the same way Jev’s bullet had and didn’t appear to do anything.

  Jev leaned around Lornysh and fired again. Nothing. The creature grew in size, the top of it reaching the shadowy ceiling high above. It was gathering more and more water, Jev realized. To throw at them?

  Lornysh dropped his bow and yanked out a longsword. He barked a command in Elvish. “Syrisha!” Fire, the word meant. His sword glowed with orange, almost as if flames ran along the length of its metal blade.

  Jev jammed his pistol into its holster and reached for his own sword. He had no magical commands to give it and feared the steel would be as useless as his bullets.

  “Row,” Lornysh commanded. “Get us out of here.”

  Jev forced himself to sit again and reach for the oars, but the golem had gathered enough water. It surged at them like a tidal wave.

  Lornysh sprang at it an instant before it slammed into the boat. It didn’t matter. The water still hit. Jev ducked his head, but the massive power hurled him backward, as if he’d been struck by a boulder.

  He heard wood snapping even as he flew out of the boat. The lantern went out, all light disappearing, as water completely encompassed Jev. He was hurled head over feet more times than he could count. His back slammed into stone, and the air in his lungs whooshed out.

  Jev tried to claw his way toward the surface, wherever that was, but the current continued to smother him, battering him like a boxer pummeling a bag. No, it wasn’t just the current, he realized as he failed again and again to push away from the rock. It was some sentient being that would hold him under the water until he drowned.

  Terror filled him. He tried not to panic, but he could almost feel watery fingers gripping his shoulders, pushing him farther down.

  Not knowing what else to do, he yanked his sword out. He stabbed at the water around him. It was strangely dense, far more so than normal water, and his bla
de met resistance. But did it do anything to harm the creature? He couldn’t tell.

  A distant yell, muted by the water, reached his ears. An elven war cry.

  Wherever Lornysh was, he was still alive and battling the golem. That gave Jev extra inspiration to fight. But how?

  He didn’t think his sword strikes were doing anything. The creature was intentionally pressing down from above, keeping him from rising to the surface. Was it possible he could slip out underneath it? Do what the golem didn’t expect?

  His lungs starting to burn, Jev pushed upward again, his boots jammed against the rock wall. Once again, watery fingers forced him down. He fumbled his sword back into its sheath and then abruptly switched the angle of his push. As if he faced some physical obstacle he could swim under, he tried to dive under the creature.

  For the first time, he was able to get away from the rock wall. He stroked as hard as he could, his knees and belly scraping the bottom of the river.

  Currents stirred behind him. The golem turning to give chase? He stroked harder.

  Several long seconds passed, his lungs crying out for him to rise to the surface. It was utterly dark, and he couldn’t see a damn thing. Had he escaped the creature? Maybe Lornysh had distracted it.

  Jev reached forward for another stroke, and his knuckles slammed into hard rock. He lacked the air to curse, or he would have shouted his frustration. Instead, assuming he’d reached the far side of the river and run out of room, he pushed off the bottom. He almost choked as his lungs spasmed, trying desperately to suck in the air he hadn’t yet reached.

  Finally, his head broke the surface. He gasped in air so quickly it burned his throat.

  It was almost as dark above the surface as below, but a faint orange glow came from one side. Lornysh’s sword. He wasn’t holding it. It lay by itself on a rocky bank twenty feet away.

  Thunderous splashes came from the other direction, followed by a distressed cry. Lornysh.

  Jev almost swam straight toward him, but he didn’t have a weapon that would be useful on the golem. He turned and swam for the sword. His knee banged another rock, and he had the air for a curse this time. A virulent one.