The Queen's Opal: A Stone Bearers Novel (Book One)

by Jacque Stevens

  “And wot did you do to rile ’im up? He ain’t been violent with no one else.”

  Picc shrugged, eyes still locked on the capsized box. “Nothin’. He’s a freak. Who knows wot goes on in his ’ead?” He was lying—obviously—but Kol saw nothing to be gained by contradicting him.

  “In that case, you’d better go get Cain. He’d want to know his dog went rabid.”

  Picc hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess I should. Watch the freak for me, will you? Unless, of course, you’re afraid it’ll jump you too.”

  “I think I can handle it.” Kol forced a smile as he watched Picc jump out of the cart.

  As soon as the other boy had gone, Kol bent over the fallen box. A ruby hilt glittered back at him. Any of Kol’s daggers could handle a box falling on them and worse, but this pretty dagger had not. The blade was completely detached from the hilt. No question where it came from. Picc had pulled a knife on the elf and lied about it. But what could he do with the information?

  A soft scrape came from behind. Kol spun around. The elf had moved into a defensive crouch, staring up at Kol warily. Looking at it now, Kol saw the feral creature Cain frequently complained about. Energy hovered around it like a fiery aura. Blood smeared its face, matting its long red hair into spikes. Its ears stuck out, and its slanted green eyes flashed, reflecting light like a cat. To top it all off, it held Kol’s dagger.

  Kol had never gone to retrieve it after throwing it at Picc.

  Still, the chain prevented the elf from getting near enough to stab him. The only way the elf could have used the dagger was to throw it. Kol could handle thrown daggers. He doubted the elf would use it anyway. He stepped forward, and the elf retreated until its back hit the wall.

  “It’s all right. Picc’s gone. I ain’t gonna hurt’cha.” Kol said it slowly, much like he would to a skittish horse. The elf didn’t move. Either it didn’t understand or wasn’t buying it. Kol didn’t know why he thought it would. The horses Kol had worked with never did.

  Kol needed to get the dagger out of the elf’s hands. It was his, and he would be seen as careless or traitorous for letting the elf get it. He could jump the elf for the blade without much trouble on his own part, but he was loath to do it after all Picc had done.

  Kol glanced down. He still held another dagger. Time to switch tactics.

  “All right, look, I’m puttin’ my knife down. You can keep that one if you want, but it’s only goin’ to make things worse for you. Cain is comin’, and he’s gonna be plenty mad already. Let ’im see you holdin’ a knife, and you’ll be worse than dog’s meat.” Kol crouched down, setting the dagger on the floor.

  The elf visibly relaxed.

  Kol nodded, backing up. “See? I dropped it. Now it would be a good idea if you dropped yours, trust me. I know you didn’t attack Picc. I’m tryin’ to help, believe it or not.”

  The elf stared without moving.

  Kol sighed. “Probably don’t understand a word.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  It was shaky and soft but very recognizable Kalmic. Enough to build off of anyway. “So . . . will you drop it?”

  The elf peered at him. “Who are you?”

  “Kol.”

  The elf cocked its head. It wanted more than that, but Kol pretended not to understand. What more could he tell it anyway? That The Lord pulled him off the street after the wizards burned his house to the ground? That he really was only trying to help the elf because it would help him, too?

  The elf slowly pointed at itself. “Drynn. I will trust you.”

  The elf bent over, the blade inches from the floor. Then it froze, green eyes wider than anything human. The elf shrunk back, the knife still in its hand, all before the sound of pounding feet reached Kol’s ears. The door swung open.

  Cain took charge. “Put the knife down, freak. You’ve more than boys to fight now.”

  What? Boys? Cain wasn’t going to blame Kol for letting the elf get the dagger. He thought Kol had been jumped as well.

  The dagger clattered to the floor. The elf backed into the wall again, cowering while Cain picked the dagger up. It looked rather pathetic, but no one else seemed moved by its plight.

  By then, Picc and Kitti had followed Cain into the cart. Kol inwardly cursed. Picc would come back with all of Kol’s least favorite people.

  Kitti rounded on him, still mimicking the troll she had unwittingly played on stage in perfect form. “How could you be so careless as to let the freak get a knife? It could’ve killed someone!”

  Kol might have been off the hook with Cain, but Kitti was another matter. Kitti always was another matter. “I didn’t let—”

  “Nah, you just threw it at me,” Picc said.

  Kol glared. Go ahead, cover your own skin. That seemed the only thing people were good at around here. “For someone brutally attacked by a wild elf, then struck by a dagger, Picc’s remarkably healthy.”

  “You threw a dagger at one of your own mates?” Kitti asked. “Cain, this boy is out of control. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was in league with the freak.”

  Cain stood with his arms crossed, shaking his head. “The elf pulled a knife on Kol too. He wouldn’t’ve done that if they were mates. Besides, we’ve all seen Kol throw his knives. If he wanted to hurt Picc, he would’ve done it.”

  “He did so throw a knife at me.” Picc mirrored Cain, crossing his arms, though he came off as a pouting child. “How else would the freak ’ave gotten it? He threw two. That one and another I blocked with a box. It’s over there.” He pointed to the box, and the shattered blade.

  Everyone turned except Kol. He already knew what they would find.

  “And why would you do that, Kol?” Cain asked with a show of patience.

  Kol ran his hand through his hair. “When I walked in, Picc was beatin’ the elf. I thought you would’ve wanted me to stop ’im, before he permanently damaged your prize, but I didn’t hurt ’im. I didn’t know the elf attacked ’im.”

  As Kol mentioned the elf, he unconsciously glanced at it. It was watching him. A room full of aggressors, and the elf was watching him. Green eyes pleading, like it still trusted him to help, even now. The fact that Kol even wanted to help surprised him, but he could barely help himself at the moment. What else could he be expected to do?

  Kol was so absorbed with this mental debate he barely heard what Cain said next. “Well, as I said before, Picc ain’t hurt. We’ll let you slide for now, Kol.”

  When Cain’s words registered, Kol smiled at Kitti. She shot needles with her eyes, her hands balled into fists.

  Cain turned to the elf. Its eyes darted from one person to the other. Who knew how much it had understood? “The elf on the other hand, can’t go unpunished.” Cain shook his head like a long-suffering parent. “I’m afraid I’ve let it get away with far too much already.”

  Kol wished the elf would say something in its own defense, but it wouldn’t and it probably wouldn’t do much good if it had. “Didn’t Picc beat ’im enough already?”

  “No.” Cain hardly glanced at the elf’s blood-smeared face. “Not this time. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you ’ad a soft spot for dangerous animals, even if you’re not in league with ’em.” The warning in Cain’s voice was obvious.

  “’Course I don’t.” Time to go before he ended up on the block himself. Kol snatched his dagger from the floor and turned back to Cain, palm up. “Can I ’ave my knife back?”

  Cain narrowed his eyes, but handed it over. “Be more careful with it.”

  Kol nodded and turned.

  “Kol,” Cain said.

  Kol froze, cursing his bad luck. He had almost been out the door.

  “Ain’t you forgettin’ somethin’?” Cain paused, several seconds passing in silence. “The other knife.”

  Kol looked to the door. He was close enough to risk it. “It ain’t mine. Think ’bout it. Maybe you’ll figure out whose it was.”

  He darted outside before anyone else could s
top him.

  * * *

  Drynn was outside, but not free.

  Humans had dragged him from the cart, surrounding him. He shook, and they pinned him down. He screamed, and they tied his mouth. Pain in his head, pain across his back. Laughter in the air. He would learn his place, the humans said. He was their prize, their freak.

  Never to be free again.

  Red spots covered his vision, dizziness, a stirring in his gut. They locked him in the cart, fit to pass out. Iron on his foot. The opal was gone—stolen by Picc—and no one would save him.

  He had thought for a moment that Kol might help, but he hadn’t. Tayvin wasn’t going to help him either. Or Cindle.

  He needed to get out anyway.

  Iron on his foot.

  Spilt wood scattered the floor of the cart, left over from the box he had broken. He fingered a board with a jagged edge, staring at his leg. He couldn’t break iron, but he had broken the box.

  And maybe there was something else he could break.

  CHAPTER 16

  KOL LAY ON his back staring at a blank canvas wall, picturing the flames with a restless passion. He could have done it, used his unnatural gifts to take out all of Cain’s men.

  Once, when he still lived with The Lord, he had called to the wind and blood rained down around him. He had embraced the fire inside his chest. Became the monster. Been exposed, if not for The Lord’s interference. If Kol did it again, there would be no coming back. Instead of rescuing the elf, he would share its fate—bound for the robes and marked for death.

  His head or the elf’s. He had to pick to save himself again.

  The elf might have called itself Drynn, but Kol had to give it another name, as he had done with Kitti on stage. Something more deserving of whatever fate it received, something less than Drynn. A creature, a demon, an it.

  Boys Kol’s age came into the tent, invading Kol’s self-imposed solitude, laughing, talking, and shoving one another. Kol waved, but only to make it seem like nothing was bothering him. Sometimes he performed for the other boys like the bandit on stage, pretended they were friends, but he didn’t know them. He never bothered to learn all their names despite the fact that they had been together for years.

  Everyone settled when Picc waltzed in as if he had just been named the new Thief Lord. A stupid grin stretched across his face as he stood over Kol. “Why’d you leave like that? Cain wasn’t gonna beat ya. Ya could’ve stayed and watched the show.”

  Picc’s friendlier attitude had been expected. In this camp, if you could get your neighbor hanged for you, you would, as he would do to you if the situation were to ever reverse itself. It was a way of life, nothing personal. So now, after the fact, the unwritten rules dictated both parties were supposed to pretend it never had happened. Picc was doing an admirable job.

  Kol wasn’t.

  He propped himself up, facing Picc with a bored expression. “I’ve seen people get beat before—even elves, thanks to you.”

  Picc either hadn’t noticed the edge in Kol’s voice, or he didn’t care. He was too busy filling the rest of the boys in on the details of Kol’s and Picc’s encounter. At least some version of the details. “So I was watchin’ the freak, and it was as borin’ as anythin’. So I started talkin’, mostly to myself, but I hoped the freak would join in just to liven things up a bit. But it just sat there, all quiet like, ’til I took a step too close. Then wham! It jumped me out of nowhere. So I grabbed the lil’ runt and threw him down, nothin’ easier. And then Kol walked in.”

  Picc paused.

  “Do you wanta tell your part, Kol?”

  Kol rolled over, smothering his head with his blanket. It did nothing to drown out Picc’s voice, but he got the message, continuing on his own. “Well, Kol throws his knife, but I already had it under control. And me and the freak were so close together that it was a hard thing to aim. One of those knives could’ve hit me. But I blocked it with a box, just in time.”

  Kol’s head jerked at that, but everyone seemed too engrossed in Picc’s highly animated story to notice. Picc must have thought he was being generous. He could afford to be now that he was off the hook. Still, his version made Kol seem rather weak. One thing Kol prided himself on was his skill with his daggers. They would never have gotten near Picc if Kol didn’t want them to.

  “So then Cain strung ’im up, and they got ’im good,” Picc said. “Only wish I could’ve done it myself. Stuck up lil’ devil deserved it. Got to ’ear it scream anyway. Cain had to gag it so the guards wouldn’t come lookin’.” He laughed.

  The other boys made all the appropriate responses, demanding details at every turn. Only Kol stayed silent until the end, the flames dancing in his head with a new vigor.

  “Stuck up?” Kol said in a tone the other boys would misinterpret as amusement. “The elf never talks. How can he be stuck up?”

  Picc waved him off. “I know. It’s so . . . frustratin’. Thinks he’s too good to talk.”

  “Can he even do it?” one nameless boy asked. “Speak Kalmic, I mean. He’s a freak.”

  “Sure he can,” Picc said. “Me and Kol ’eard ’im the day they nabbed ’im. Hey, Kol, look at this.” He held up a clear green stone on a chain. “Found it on the elf after he went down. Do you think it might be magic? Don’t know how we missed it before, but we should sell it when we get to Kalum City. It’ll be our fee for findin’ the elf in the first place. I mean, without us, they never would’ve got ’im.”

  Kol didn’t say a word. He got up, walked over to Picc, and punched him right in his jeering face. No matter what Picc said, Kol wasn’t responsible for bringing the elf here or anything that followed.

  Picc fell back, and Kol took the stone from him. Let them think he didn’t want to share. He was out of the tent before any of the boys could do anything but stare.

  Kol stopped outside to breathe in the cool wind that greeted him, trying to smother the inner flames, settle down the rage that had been growing within him all day. No reason to go any farther. Picc might want to return the blow but was far too lazy to chase him for it. The other boys wouldn’t do anything either. He would be surprised if they even batted an eye.

  Kol had every advantage, anyway. He had the daggers, and if Picc went to Cain again, it would only get himself in trouble for not turning over the stone at once.

  Kol would just have to watch his back for a while. He was used to that.

  He gripped the stone in his hand. It didn’t have the same energy as the elf and probably wasn’t valuable at all—except to the elf.

  Well, Kol was already in for an inch; he might as well do a thorough job of it.

  He passed the still tents and the painted carts to greet the lone guard at the elf’s door—the dorran. “Hey, Cain wants you.”

  “That so?” Dwarf scratched his beard in exaggerated skepticism. “And he wants you to guard it? Right after you let the elf get a knife and caused that whole ruckus? Kol, just ’cause I’m playing guard doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  Kol grasped for another lie. It probably would be better to turn and run.

  Dwarf shook his head. “You ain’t gonna hurt the kid like Picc or his lot, so if you want to come in and help, it’s fine with me. Elf or not, that thing can’t be worth all the trouble, nor should any frightened kid be treated that way. What Cain does to you lot is bad enough.”

  Kol gritted his teeth and looked away.

  “Hmmm . . .” The dorran let out a deep-throated sigh. “Well, good luck with whatever you got planned, but if you let it escape, I’ll make sure I won’t be the one blamed for it. Can’t say I would recommend it anyway. The kid wouldn’t survive out there on its own. Killing it straight out might be kinder at this point.” He gave Kol his lamp and walked away, still grumbling to himself.

  Kol watched him go, not sure what to do now that he so suddenly had full rein. But he could return the rock, if nothing else. He wasn’t too keen on returning to the tent and Picc anyway. Staying here as a guard w
as as good of an excuse as any.

  He undid the cart’s latch and swung the door open.

  The lamp’s light pierced through the darkness. The elf lay on the floor with its limbs spread out, apparently sleeping. The shackle was off its foot. Had the elf finally slipped out of that, too?

  Cain would not be happy.

  Kol closed the door. It wasn’t latched, but he doubted the elf would be up for trying it, even without the chain. As Kol walked toward the elf, it sprang up on his hands and knees, eyes wide without recognition of him or any of the rest of its surroundings.

  Kol startled. The elf had moved in a flash without making a noise at all, still seeming aflame with its own soft aura. Kol held out his hands. “Hey, it’s all right. It’s me, remember? Kol.”

  The elf stared.

  “Look, I got somethin’ for you. Picc . . .” Kol pulled the stone from his pocket and the elf shot forward. Kol wasn’t going to fight giving the stone back, but the kid had moved so fast that Kol would have had a hard time of it if he had decided to.

  Kol only noticed its limp when it stepped away from him.

  Bloody footprints stained the floor.

  The elf had yanked its leg out by scraping it raw, like a raccoon gnawing off its own foot to escape a trap. It hunched over, clutching the stone with desperate relief. “Thank you.”

  Kol pulled his eyes away from the blood on its foot and shrugged. “That stone. It means a lot to you.” He sat on a box to wait for the answer. He needed to know what all the fuss was about, a morbid curiosity.

  “It was my mother’s. Picc found it when he hit me, so I-I hit him back.” The elf watched Kol’s expression, tensing like it expected Kol to attack it for that admission.

  “Yeah, I hit ’im, too.” Kol rubbed at his knuckles. “I don’t blame you for goin’ off on ’im, but you keep makin’ trouble with Cain and—”

  “I’ll be hit with that rod again until I pass out?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “So he can sell me to a ‘robe’ in a ‘tower’ who wants to cut me up and sell information about me?” Its voice held more curiosity than fear.