by Martha Carr
All around them, voices rose not from the gathered raugs who’d been up all night partying with the Weaver, but from those who’d gone to sleep when they should have and were now awakened by the brawl.
“Tais-toi!”
“Ce n’est même pas l’aube!”
“Putain d’idiots!”
Cheyenne didn’t need to speak French to get the gist of the angry shouts as raugs glared sleepily from open balconies around the courtyard. “Hey, I’m trying to help!”
L’zar flew over her shoulder and bashed into the wall. It took him two seconds to pull himself off the ground, shake himself off, and dart back toward the raugs.
Cheyenne clenched her fists and was about to reach after him with her lashing tendrils when two darting streaks of blazing silver light entered the courtyard.
Corian and Maleshi appeared on either side of L’zar and grabbed his arms to hold him back. The drow thief struggled against them and lunged at the three raugs leering at him. Despite everyone being covered in hours-old blood and O’gúl booze and dirt, none of them was ready to back down.
“Stop it,” Corian whispered harshly, his fingers digging into L’zar’s upper arm. “This isn’t why we’re here.”
L’zar ignored him and hissed at the three raugs, who were debating whether or not to keep going. “You’re all useless. If you want to fight me, Barlek, then fight me!”
“Hey!” Corian shook the drow thief by the shoulder when L’zar lunged.
Maleshi kept a firm hold on L’zar’s other arm and stepped in front of him. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”
The closest raug hurled a snaking attack of orange light at the trio. Cheyenne raised a shield around L’zar and the nightstalkers, sending the bolt into the air above the courtyard. It bashed into the wall of another building, and snarled French shouts rained down around them.
Corian tightened his grip on L’zar and bared his teeth. “Cheyenne.”
“Yeah, as long as you keep him out of it.” The halfling shot both nightstalkers exasperated glances, then darted into drow speed toward the three raugs still intent on kicking L’zar Verdys’ ass.
Chapter Thirty-One
Cheyenne loomed over the last drunken raug she’d just put on his back and summoned an energy sphere in warning. Black and purple light flickered across the raug’s scarred gray face. “You wanna try that again, or are you done?”
The raug spat a glob of blood-stained saliva, then laughed and waved her off. “I looked forward to ripping the Weaver’s head off his shoulders.”
“Yeah, I bet you did.” She stepped back, still cradling an energy sphere, and glanced at the other two raugs helping each other up off the stone floor. “Anyone else?”
The raugs turned away, wiping blood and spit and dirt off their faces before joining their kinsmen. The spectators roared in approval and welcomed their clansmen back into the small crowd with fresh cups of Bloodshine and hard thumps on the back.
The other citizens of Hirúl Breach glared down at the brawlers, muttering in French and casting even dirtier looks at Cheyenne.
She stared right back at them and spread her arms. “Sure. Next time I’ll let them kill each other.”
“They can try,” L’zar hissed behind her.
Cheyenne spun and stormed toward him, fighting to keep her magic under control as it burned through her. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
L’zar made a poor attempt at wrenching himself free from Corian’s and Maleshi’s grasps. The nightstalkers instantly let go and stepped back when Cheyenne approached her father, her glowing golden eyes blazing. “Just my self-righteous spawn getting in the way.”
The energy sphere crackled, briefly flaring to twice its size in the halfling’s hand. “Say that again.”
“Not the time,” Corian warned in a low voice.
“I know it’s not the time. Why do you think I came here? We’re supposed to be heading to wherever the Crown’s secret kid is, and he’s out here making an ass of himself.” Cheyenne killed the black orb and scowled at L’zar. “You look like shit. Did you get any sleep?”
He scoffed and flung his hand toward her in a dismissive wave. “I don’t need to sleep. Not now.”
“You can barely stand.”
“A minor setback, easily fix—” L’zar staggered across the ground, his eyes wide and unfocused. “Easily fixed by another drink. Where’s the damn Bloodshine?”
“Not here.” Cheyenne folded her arms. “Bet I could find a bucket of water for you, though. I’d be happy to hold your head under it for you.”
He hiccupped, blinked heavily at the nightstalkers, then spun away from his daughter and stumbled toward the other side of the courtyard and the open streets of the raug city beyond. “Whenever you assholes are ready to leave, I’ll be at the gates.”
His footsteps echoed through the stone alley between buildings, and he gave a huge belch before wiping away the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and another cut at his temple. A raug hissed another curse at him in French from an open balcony, and L’zar shot him the O’gúleesh version of the middle finger and stalked away.
“I don’t get it.” Cheyenne turned toward Maleshi and Corian and spread her arms. “Does he have some kind of hidden agenda for drunken street fights, or is he finally showing his stupid side?”
Pursing her lips, Maleshi shrugged.
Corian stared after the drow thief even after L’zar disappeared around the corner and shook his head. “I’m not sure I want to know the answer to that. We need to give him time, kid. He’ll be fine.”
“Uh-huh.” Cheyenne glanced at the nightstalkers and finally had the chance to take in their appearance. Maleshi’s black hair was tangled and mussed in a dark halo around her feline face. The white shirt hanging off her frame looked oddly loose and big on her. Conversely, the black jacket with the gray stripe running down the side looked way too tight on Corian, the sleeve cuffs ending two inches above his wrists because it was the general’s.
Looks like L’zar wasn’t the only one getting into trouble last night. The halfling folded her arms and met Maleshi’s gaze. “I’d ask if it was against the rules to lend your uniform to civilians, but I guess he’s not technically a civilian, huh?”
Corian’s eyes widened, and he looked down at General Hi’et’s unfastened military jacket hanging off his shoulders. “Shit.”
Maleshi chuckled.
“Not funny.” With a final warning glance at Cheyenne, Corian whirled and disappeared in a flash of silver light. Inside the building where they’d all been put up for the night, a heavy door slammed with an echoing boom.
“Well.” Cheyenne met the general’s gaze again and raised her eyebrows. “You can spare me the gory details. Please tell me the two of you worked out whatever it was going on between you.”
The corner of Maleshi’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Gory, huh?”
“Come on. I know enough about nightstalkers at this point to be sure there was at least a little violence involved.”
“You can think whatever you want, kid. What Corian and I work out in private is none of your business.”
“Right.” Cheyenne stared at the nightstalker woman for a moment longer. Stand here and wait. That’s all some people need to open right up. Maleshi stared across the courtyard at the alley leading into the city streets of Hirúl Breach. The halfling nodded. “Okay, good talk. Wanna change the subject and tell me what’s going on with the shit-faced drow who fought like it was his first time?”
Slowly, Maleshi turned her gaze to Cheyenne and pursed her lips. “I’m leaning toward scrambled brains.”
“You’re talking about L’zar too, right?”
“Yeah, kid,” The general said, “Look, I get how frustrating it is to see him go through these mood swings.”
“Nice euphemism.”
“He needs time, Cheyenne.” Maleshi stared at the sleeves of Corian’s button-up shirt hanging past her wrists before sh
e focused on rolling them halfway up her forearms. “The Weaving he cast on himself to hide his return to Ambar’ogúl was bound to take its toll sooner or later. Very few magicals know how to cloak themselves like that, and even fewer can pull it off.”
“So, it made him lose his mind?”
“Pretty much.” The general pushed her rolled sleeves even higher, then stopped fidgeting with them and folded her arms instead. “That and paying the Sorren Gán another visit. The way I heard it, his first meeting with that thing took him as close to the brink of madness as he’s ever been without falling off the edge.”
“Yeah.” Cheyenne glared at the corner around which L’zar had disappeared, fighting the urge to run after him when another flashing burst of red light flickered against the stone walls. “That’s the way I heard it too.”
“From him?”
The halfling shrugged. “It was a weird conversation.”
“I’m sure. Two maddening endeavors in the last two days, kid. I’d say he pulled himself together a hell of a lot better than the rest of us expected. He wanted to make sure everything went as planned in Hangivol, which it did. For the most part.” Maleshi gestured toward the blood splatter, chunks of broken stone, and crushed metal crates strewn across the courtyard. “All this? Well, this is how L’zar Verdys made a reputation for himself in the very beginning.”
Cheyenne snorted. “As a drunken asshole?”
“Yep.”
“I couldn’t care less about his reputation, Maleshi. He needs to pull himself together before we head out to find this other drow.”
The general leaned toward her, her close-lipped smile barely growing. “You mean, your cousin?”
“You know what? Let’s stick to calling him the secret prince or something, okay?” Cheyenne rolled her eyes when Maleshi chuckled. “I’m not looking to strengthen my family ties over here right now, especially when I’m already dealing with L’zar.”
“I imagine he feels very much the same way, kid.”
“Whatever he’s feeling, he needs to work that out too and fast. A fighting, pissed-off, wasted L’zar Verdys trying to talk his recently discovered nephew into helping us doesn’t build a lot of confidence.”
Maleshi raised an eyebrow and dipped her head. “Neither does a daughter who loses her faith in him.”
Cheyenne scoffed and turned toward the arch in the courtyard that led into the building holding their guest quarters. Shadows played along the wall in the tunnel, growing closer with the echo of half a dozen pairs of footsteps and the telltale click of Foltr’s staff smacking the stone floor. “Kinda hard to lose faith when I didn’t have any to begin with. But if he can prove me wrong, I won’t say I’m not open to the possibility.”
Maleshi chuckled. “What a compromise.”
The sharp retort that hadn’t fully formed on Cheyenne’s tongue disappeared when the raug chief stepped through the arch into the courtyard, followed by five of his hulking guards. Foltr trailed after them, the old raug’s shoulders hunched as he slowly walked along with a deep frown, leaning on his staff for support.
Cazerel eyed the bloody stone floor, took a deep sniff, and turned toward Maleshi and Cheyenne. “I would ask if you and your party are prepared to set out, but something tells me you’ve been held up.”
“Not quite.” Maleshi gave the raug chief a respectful bow of the head and ignored the gray-skinned magicals behind him, who still didn’t bother to hide their disdain for General Maleshi Hi’et taking refuge in their city.
Cheyenne had no problem eyeing the raugs right back, those who were sober and stoic and way more prepared to set out on the journey that lay ahead of them. Even the ones coming with us hate her. This will be a fun trip.
“Make it quick, then. Our supplies are ready and waiting for us at the gates. Gather the rest of your party. We’ll wait for you there.’
“We’ll be there shortly, Zokrí.”
A raug guard snarled at the general’s use of that moniker for their chief. Maleshi met his gaze without any expression, and Cazerel thumped a hand against his guard’s chest to pull him out of the staring contest. “We leave in ten minutes, General. With or without the rest of you.”
With another glance around the destroyed courtyard, Cazerel snorted and took off toward the open streets in the same direction as L’zar.
Cheyenne said, “Ten minutes for us, but I bet he’d wait all day for Ember if she needed it.”
“He does seem oddly fond of her, doesn’t he?” Maleshi shrugged. “Guess I would be too if she drew that poison out of me.”
Foltr turned away from the raug chief’s disappearing procession, eyed the general, and snorted. “And you seem oddly fond of wearing clothes that don’t belong to you.”
She lifted her chin and shot the old raug a sidelong glance. “With all due respect, Grandfather, that’s none of your business, either.”
“I should say not. But you’re the one standing here like that for everyone to see.” When the general didn’t move or open her mouth to retort, the old raug snorted again. “Whatever it is, Hi’et, settle it before L’zar clears his head. I can smell the liquor in his blood from here.” Foltr shot Cheyenne another glance and nodded. “Eight minutes now.” He cracked the end of his staff on the stone and went after Cazerel and his hulking raug entourage toward Hirúl Breach’s front gates.
Cheyenne ran a hand through her hair. “Weird way to start a quest for the Crown’s secret kid.”
“Agreed. Better hurry.”
“I’m already—”
Maleshi disappeared in a flash of silver light without a real end to the conversation.
“—packed.” The halfling rolled her eyes and looked up at the open balcony of the main room she shared with Ember.
The fae girl stared down at her with luminous purple eyes, her arms folded as she sat motionlessly in the crawler.
Cheyenne spread her arms. “What?”
Ember merely tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, okay. I’m coming.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Got everything?” Cheyenne slung her backpack over her shoulder and stopped at the wooden door to their guest quarters. When she glanced over her shoulder, she found Ember grimacing at her.
“Right now, I’m pretty sure the only thing I need is this stupid hunk of metal.” The fae girl slapped the edge of the crawler’s control panel in exasperation. The machine lurched forward and tilted drastically to one side. “Whoa, whoa. Sorry. Okay. Got it.”
Cheyenne watched her friend’s fingers swipe across the control panel and waited for the machine to wobble back into balance. “You good to drive that thing to the gates?”
“What? Totally.” Ember gestured at the door and leaned forward. “By all means, Aranél, lead the way.”
“You don’t have to keep it up with the stupid title, okay?”
“I think it kinda suits you.”
Cheyenne snorted and pulled open the huge door. “Cool. Then I’ll call you ‘Healer’ from now on too.”
Ember rolled her eyes and drove the crawler in an awkward, slightly sideways scramble through the doorway after Cheyenne. The O’gúl machine had a knack for smacking into walls just when she thought she’d gotten the steering down.
They wound their way through the wide stone halls, and the halfling paused when they reached Maleshi’s quarters from the night before. I’d clear this room pretty damn fast too if I were her. I can still smell her. And Corian.
Cheyenne wrinkled her nose and took a final glance around the empty room.
“What’s wrong?” Ember asked as she slowed the crawler, the pointed ends of its mechanical legs plinking on the stone floor.
Cheyenne leaned away from the open door and headed down the hall again. “You picked up on the whole nightstalker situation back there, right?”
“You mean, the one where they showed up before dawn, wearing each other’s clothes?”
The halfling snickered.
“Yeah, kinda hard not to notice, honestly.”
“Well, that’s it.” Cheyenne shrugged and turned left down a wide, uneven stone staircase toward the city’s outer streets. “Nothing wrong with it as long as L’zar doesn’t start thinking there’s something going on, apparently.”
“What?” Ember gently moved her fingers over the control panel to steer the crawler into a slow, bumpy descent down the staircase one metal leg at a time. “Why would he care? I thought the nightstalkers were already a thing.”
“They were, I’m pretty sure.” Cheyenne stopped at the bottom of the stairs to wait for Ember and adjusted the straps of her backpack. “I mean, there’s no way all these O’gúleesh have been cracking jokes about those two from the very beginning if there wasn’t something there. And it would definitely explain how excited they were to battle each other in the fighting pit.”
The fae girl snorted, staring with unblinking eyes at the control panel and navigating the crawler as gently as she could until it reached the bottom of the stairs. For two seconds, the entire metal body leaned dangerously sideways, three of its legs still propped awkwardly on the second-to-last stair. Cheyenne opened her mouth to offer a suggestion, but Ember jabbed a finger at her friend without looking away from the panel.
“Don’t. If I’m gonna be on this side of the Border, I need to figure out how to do this on my own.”
Cheyenne smiled. “We need to get you a better activator.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the activator.” Ember’s finger hovered over the panel, then she swiped up. The crawler skittered sideways, still leaning dangerously forward and to the side. Ember braced herself against walls of the depression where she sat and gritted her teeth. “What I need is to get my damn magic back. Can’t move without it, and apparently, I can’t use this stupid, creepy machine the way I’m supposed to, either.”
A second before the crawler would have crashed into the wall of the stairwell, Ember smacked her palm down onto the control panel and turned her hand two inches clockwise. The machine groaned, shuddered, jerked away from the wall, and brought the rest of its eight legs down to the ground floor. When it stopped, the sharp point of its closest foot clicked on the stone half an inch from the toe of Cheyenne’s black Van.