Duty Bound

by Lindsay Buroker

  “This is problematic,” Zenia said, looking back at him and also at Rhi.

  As she stepped fully inside, Jev and Rhi followed. Lornysh offered Cutter an arm for support. Cutter clenched his jaw, slung the giant axe over his shoulder, and hobbled toward the door without help.

  When Jev stepped into the one-room hunting cabin, he almost stepped on a human body on the floor. The man’s chest had been cut open, likely with a massive axe similar to the one Cutter had purloined, and the blood sinking into the dirt floor around him was fresh. Jev didn’t think this had happened more than an hour or two ago.

  Zenia gazed down at the body while gripping her chin, reminding him of when he’d walked into that dead doctor’s office with her. She appeared no more fazed at the sight of this corpse than the last one, though whoever this was had died a far more gruesome death.

  “This is—was—Tildar Braksnoth,” Zenia said. “His picture was in one of the newspaper articles I read.”

  Jev had never seen the articles, but the dead man wore an expensive suit and snakeskin boots, and the chain from a gold watch spilled from a bloodied breast pocket. He had definitely been someone with money to spend.

  “That’s the fellow that was making all the deals with the trolls,” Cutter said, leaning against the doorjamb.

  Lornysh stood watch outside, his bow visible poking over his shoulder. He and Jev had already discussed that it was unlikely all the trolls had been in camp, that others would be out scouting the countryside and could return at any time.

  “This is his land,” Cutter added. “That’s what he said, anyway. I was blindfolded and gagged and in the corner over there mostly, so I only saw him once, but I heard him talk a bunch of times. He bought this land so the trolls could use it as a staging area for their spies. Before their full invasion force came, the troll scouts were going to try and get into the castle and kill Targyon.” Cutter growled and spat at the dead man’s boots. “That traitor was going to help them. He drew some maps of the castle for them. In return, they were going to support him with troops as he tried to change the government, get rid of your nobility, and put himself in charge of some new system.”

  “What kind of system would we have if the kingdom was destroyed by trolls?” Zenia asked.

  “They had a plan to divvy it up, from what I heard. Swamps and mountains for the trolls, and you humans could keep your farms and cities, so long as the trolls were treated favorably by this Brak-snot fellow once he was in charge.”

  “So, what happened?” Rhi pointed the tip of her bo at the body.

  “I wasn’t here for this,” Cutter said. “I guess they figured they didn’t need him anymore, but I don’t know for certain. The trolls carted the master and me off to the boat launch. They’re on their way into town to use her to cause trouble and kill a bunch of my kind.” Cutter’s grip tightened on the axe haft.

  “Trouble.” Jev gritted his teeth at their plans to kill Targyon. As if he wasn’t already furious enough at these invaders. “Lornysh,” he barked. “Are you ready to kill more trolls?”

  “Always ready,” came the prompt reply. “But collect the dwarf’s tools first.”

  Jev had already been stepping out of the cabin.

  “What?” He looked around the room.

  There wasn’t much furniture, and the place smelled of piss. He didn’t see any magical tools encrusted in diamonds or made from diamonds. Whatever it was. Grindmor had never described them to Jev.

  Zenia walked slowly to a corner and looked down at a small, grimy rug, the only such item in the cabin. She pulled it aside, revealing a couple of boards over a hole in the dirt. “Toolbox here.”

  “Yes,” Cutter said, rushing to her side, though he winced with every step.

  Jev vowed to take him to a healer as soon as possible. He just wasn’t sure when that would be. If the trolls had left an hour or two ago and had a boat, they ought to already be in the city. What if they were enacting their plan right now?

  Zenia and Cutter pulled up the boards and extracted the toolbox. It looked heavy, but Cutter abandoned the axe and clutched it to his chest. He strode toward the door, his jaw set with determination.

  Rhi waved at the abandoned axe. “What’re you going to do if we’re attacked?”

  “Hide behind the woman lighting trolls on fire with her mind,” Cutter said.

  Zenia blinked. “It was the dragon tear.”

  “Which responds to your mental orders.”

  Jev strode outside, waving for them to follow. They could discuss Zenia’s rock later. For now, he worried they were already too late.

  18

  Zenia fiddled with her dragon tear and tried not to feel useless as the rowboat surged down the wide Jade River, balmy night air that smelled of the sea and the mangroves breezing past. She sat twiddling her thumbs with Rhi while Lornysh and Jev rowed from the benches at either end. There were only two sets of oars, so it wasn’t as if she could help, but she felt like she should be doing something besides looking downriver for the first signs of the city’s gas lamps.

  Cutter sat on the floor of the boat behind Zenia. She’d offered him her bench, but he’d collapsed down there, seeming more comfortable propped against the side of the craft, the master’s toolbox under his arm.

  Jev had injuries, too. A fresh gash in his jaw had taken a chunk out of his beard, and as they’d jogged to the dock, Zenia had seen him wince a few times and touch his side and his thigh. His dark clothing hid the blood, but she didn’t miss the long cuts in the fabric.

  “Are you all right?” Zenia was facing him as he rowed and could see the grim, determined set to his face.

  Jev nodded. “It’s not hard. We’re with the current.”

  She hadn’t meant the rowing, but she didn’t correct him. Maybe later he would share more. He ought to be ecstatic at having Cutter back, but Cutter’s words about the trolls planning something with the dwarven ship—and his later addendum that they’d planned to kill Targyon—were worrying. She could understand Jev’s concern—she was concerned, too—but was used to smiles and quips from him, even when the stakes were high. Without the humor gleaming in his eyes, it was almost like he was someone else.

  Maybe that was appropriate since, at the moment, she felt like someone else too. She’d used her dragon tear to kill. Not just animals but intelligent beings with their own culture and language. When she had seen Jev in danger, she had reacted without stopping to consider if there was a less deadly way to subdue them. She supposed that was understandable, but now that she’d had time to think about her actions, she couldn’t help second-guessing herself. Also, it made her uncomfortable to realize how easy it had been to kill with the dragon tear.

  She thought of Cutter’s warnings about the gem. She could see how it could change a person to have that kind of power, how one might start to feel invincible if one could wave a hand and kill. Technically, she could use her pistol to kill a man, too, but with this, she could annihilate someone without leaving any evidence. Something about being able to kill with a thought made it far more horrifying than physically thrusting a dagger into someone’s chest. Or firing a bullet into their eye.

  Worse, the dragon tear hadn’t judged her for the decision to fling fire at the trolls. If anything, it had reacted with glee, and she’d had to fight the urge to turn and burn down the entire camp. Her dream had flashed into her mind—her nightmare—and she’d had some strange sense that she would be getting revenge if she burned everything. But revenge for what? The trolls hadn’t invaded the city yet.

  Zenia rubbed a shaky hand over her face and vowed to wait to ponder it further until they completed their mission and made sure Targyon was safe. If she let doubt creep into her mind now, she might fail to act at an important moment. When she could help a friend in need or even save his or her life.

  “Are you all right?” Jev asked quietly.

  She forced a smile and lowered her hand, aware of Rhi also looking at her. “Fine.”
/>   Jev didn’t look like he believed her. Maybe later, she would talk to him about it. He might understand. He’d been killing those trolls—he and Lornysh had chosen to go in and kill them. Not merely in self-defense but to defend the city. She couldn’t fault them for acting preemptively, but something about meting out justice for a crime that hadn’t yet been committed disturbed her. Did it also disturb him? Lornysh, as cool and calculating as he came off, had seemed excited at the chance to slay trolls. For Jev, it had seemed that he was doing what his duty required, as he always did, and he derived no pleasure from it. She appreciated that. It would discomfit her to find out he enjoyed killing.

  “You’ve known her longer than I have, Rhi,” Jev said as he continued to row. “Is she lying?”

  “Yes, but she’ll hold it together and do her job anyway. She always does.”

  Zenia snorted but couldn’t deny the assessment. And she would hold it together.

  “She might need a hug though,” Rhi added, her expression growing sly. She didn’t quite wink at Zenia.

  “Just don’t club her with your bo when you give it,” Jev said.

  Rhi’s expression changed from sly to exasperated. “I meant a zyndar hug.”

  Zenia elbowed her. She didn’t need her friend encouraging Jev when she had… discouraged him. It was bad enough Zenia had trouble remembering that herself.

  “Oh?” Jev asked. “I had no idea zyndar hugs were superior.”

  “It’s just that Rhi is a horrible hugger.” Zenia didn’t know if she should extend the silly conversation, but it pleased her that Jev was participating, some of his humor peeking through. “She usually clacks you in the shin with her stick. Even a substandard hug would be superior.”

  “I know you’re not judging how I hug,” Rhi said. “You don’t hug at all. You get stiff when someone tries to wrap their arms around you.”

  Zenia shifted on the hard bench, now wishing she’d ended the discussion instead of playing along. She didn’t always get stiff. Just when she was taken by surprise or someone she didn’t know that well initiated the hug. Fortunately, the inquisitor robe had kept that to a minimum. She didn’t know what it said about her that she’d sometimes liked how it acted as a shield.

  “I didn’t notice that,” Jev observed, offering Zenia a warm smile.

  It was a simple gesture, but she appreciated it. She wished she could hug him now, but he was rowing. An oar handle in the stomach wouldn’t be any better than a bo to the shin.

  “There’s the river mouth,” Rhi said.

  Jev’s smile faded as he looked over his shoulder. “Lornysh, let’s head to shore. We’ll have to fight against the river current taking us out into the ocean if we try to row all the way to the docks.”

  Lornysh did not respond aloud, but they worked together well—and without further communication—to guide the boat to the side of the river as the city came into view, its gas lamps lining the dark streets. They landed at one of the fishing piers that extended into the Jade, left the rowboat, then strode along the riverfront street toward the harbor.

  Cutter grunted and took deep, labored breaths as he struggled to keep up with them. Both Lornysh and Jev told him he should stay there and rest, with Jev adding that they could come back to guide him to a healer as soon as they finished this work. Lornysh even offered to break away and escort Cutter to a healer right then. Cutter refused to leave the group, muttering about bringing Master Grindmor her tools. He wouldn’t let Lornysh carry them, instead insisting on toting the toolbox along himself.

  Zenia stumbled when the harbor came into view and she spotted a huge, towering ship docked at the end of the longest pier. Rising several stories high, it dwarfed the sailboats moored nearby and even the city’s two steam-powered warships. She couldn’t imagine how anyone could get on or off. There was no way a gangplank could lower all the way to the pier. A rope ladder, maybe.

  “It’s even bigger than it looked in that spyglass,” Jev said.

  “That’s the Warhammer,” Cutter said. “One of two of Preskabroto’s big steamships. She’s less than five years old. My people send her to their mining colonies to loom threateningly over any orcs or ogres that think about disturbing the dwarves there.”

  “Is it more advanced than our steamships?” Zenia asked.

  “Oh, certainly. My people are master engineers.” His labored breathing didn’t steal the pride from Cutter’s tone. “We invented steam engines, you know. While your people were still tying logs together with vines and pushing them around with poles.”

  “Really,” Jev murmured.

  “I sense a magical artifact on board,” Lornysh said as the group turned, following the waterfront street above the beach. “More than one.”

  The city was surprisingly quiet with few people in the street, and nobody out on the docks, despite the massive ship that must have come in within the last few hours. Maybe the hour had grown later than Zenia realized. Had the dwarven crew already disembarked and found lodgings in the city? Or would they remain with their ship?

  She couldn’t see the deck from down below, but she didn’t see anyone at the railings. Further, few lamps burned on the ship. The deck appeared to be mostly dark, and only a couple of the dozens—hundreds?—of portholes in the metal hull had lights burning behind them.

  “Dwarven artifacts?” Jev asked.

  “It wouldn’t be surprising if my people brought some magic along,” Cutter said.

  “The most prominent one is elven.” Lornysh looked at Cutter.

  “Elven?” Cutter scratched his head with his hook. “That’s more surprising. Our people have been allies often, but I can’t imagine the Taziir would have been inclined to send magical gifts along for this voyage, given what these dwarves came here to do.”

  “Work in Korvann?” Zenia wondered if Targyon had spoken to Cutter of his plans before enacting them. Perhaps he’d asked Cutter for advice.

  “As friends to humans, yes,” Cutter said.

  “Any idea what the elven artifact does?” Jev asked.

  Lornysh hesitated. “It does seem familiar, but I need to get closer before I’ll know.”

  Zenia found that she could, through her dragon tear, sense what Lornysh was talking about. There seemed to be small magical devices around the ship, perhaps responsible for operating some equipment, but something with a far more prominent signature was placed almost dead center in the ship on one of the middle decks.

  She also sensed great heat and energy in the form of steam coming from huge cylindrical boilers in a room at the bottom of the ship. Next to them, coal burned in dozens of furnaces, and in still another room, engines waited to power huge screw-style propellers at the rear of the ship. They were far different from the paddle wheels on the city’s riverboats.

  The boilers and engines seemed mundane rather than magical, but a hint of curiosity emanated from her dragon tear. She had never seen such massive steam engines. Maybe it hadn’t either.

  “Are those people dead?” Rhi pointed to the docks.

  Zenia almost jumped. Before, she’d thought the docks empty because of the late hour, but she realized that wasn’t the reason for the quiet. Dozens of people lay sprawled on the wood planks, none of them moving.

  Fear leaped into her chest. Had the trolls already been here? Attacking people left and right? Killing people?

  “They’re not dead,” Lornysh said. “They’re sleeping.”

  “Uhm, what?” Rhi asked.

  “Magic?” Jev guessed.

  “Magic,” Lornysh said. “What I sense is something my people call a hylellela—a dream weaver. A device with the power to induce sleep and dreams. Some of our holy people use them to enhance the likelihood of receiving meaningful visions. I’ve encountered the devices often, but they’re usually for a single person or perhaps a household. This has been amplified to a greater degree than I’ve seen before. Some other magical artifact must be linked with the dream weaver.”

  “Why would a
bunch of dwarves—or do we think the trolls were here?—want to make everybody fall asleep?” Rhi asked, then promptly yawned.

  Zenia squinted at her, feeling a yawn tugging at her own mouth. They had reached the boardwalk and could have headed out onto the pier where the steamship was anchored, but would they all fall asleep if they got close? She spotted a leg sticking out from behind a stack of crates and realized they might already be too close.

  “I think you answered your own question.” Jev stopped, holding out a hand to halt the group. He was also looking at that leg.

  Lornysh tapped his shoulder and pointed up into the capital, beyond the blocks and blocks of buildings and toward Alderoth Crown, the highest hill in the area and the location of Alderoth Castle. Zenia spotted a large clump of lanterns on the road winding from the castle down into the city. They were moving. People heading down into the city on horseback or in steam carriages?

  “That’s a large procession,” Jev remarked and gave Zenia a significant look.

  “The king?” she wondered.

  Maybe Targyon had received word that the dwarven ship had arrived and was coming down to meet his invited guests. Had the trolls or whoever planted this sleep-inducing artifact anticipated that? Or would it be a pleasant surprise for them when the king delivered himself into their clutches?

  “Someone needs to warn him,” Zenia said.

  “Yes, but not all of us.” Jev pointed at the ship. “We need to get on there, find that artifact and cut it out, and stop the trolls from their goal.”

  “Blowing up the ship,” Cutter supplied. “That’s what they were talking about.”

  Jev rocked back on his heels. “Founders, an explosive? Iridium isn’t supplying the black powder, is she?”

  Zenia spread her arms. “I don’t know what she would have to gain, but I wouldn’t be shocked if the guilds were involved somehow.”

  Jev looked at the massive vessel, then waved all around them. “With a large enough explosion, that could take out every ship docked here and all the shops and warehouses down here.” His gaze shifted to the nearest snoozing dock workers and sailors. “And however many people are here.”