The Drow Grew Stronger (Goth Drow Book 4)

by Martha Carr

  Not a conversation meant for me to hear, probably.

  Then the halfling turned her attention to Maleshi and Corian. The nightstalkers stood on opposite sides of the clearing, and while Maleshi gauged what she’d be risking by stalking toward the carts to grab food for herself, Corian stared at the general.

  “Something wrong, General?” A warrior lying with his back against a boulder with his thick legs splayed in front of him sniggered and looked Maleshi up and down. “You look like you forgot something important.”

  “I haven’t forgotten anything,” Maleshi snarled. “And neither have you.” The nightstalker’s clenched fists trembled at her sides.

  “Ah.” Another warrior stood, stalked toward the cart without an old raug sitting on top of it, never taking his burning gaze off the general, and rummaged to pull out a drinking gourd that looked like it could’ve been made either from a sturdy O’gúleesh plant or some kind of animal hide. He sneered at Maleshi, uncorked the gourd, and took a long, messy drink. Then he stoppered it again and tossed the gourd to the other warriors. Laughing, they passed the water around, all of them shooting General Hi’et warning, challenging glances.

  Corian finally stepped toward Maleshi and paused to lean toward her. “Keep ignoring them. It’s for a reason.”

  “I know what it’s for, vae shra’ni.” The general’s long black hair twitched around her face and shoulders since her head trembled in rage now too. “I don’t need your counsel.”

  Corian licked his lips in thought, glancing quickly at Maleshi’s profile, but she didn’t look away from the raug warriors who found General Maleshi Hi’et’s rage over their little prank hilarious.

  If Cazerel had picked up on his kinsmen’s blatant disregard for his orders to drop their grudge against the nightstalker woman, he ignored it in lieu of sharing his drinking gourd with Ember.

  Corian stepped over to the closest cart and flipped up the canvas tarp, then reached inside to pull out two more energy bars. As he walked back around the cart to Maleshi, his silver eyes flickered up to meet Cheyenne’s gaze, and his eyebrows quickly drew together.

  Great. Cheyenne swallowed another nasty bite with an aftertaste of mildewed laundry crusted in sour milk and didn’t move. We’re all relying on these raugs to get us where we need to be, and Corian would rather play at saving the general in distress. If they start fighting again…

  “Hungry, vae shra’ni?” another warrior called, glaring at Corian’s profile as the nightstalker headed cautiously toward Maleshi. “If one unit is enough for a raug, it’s enough for you.”

  Corian ignored the glares burning into his back and offered one of the bricks to Maleshi with a nod.

  “Dae’bruj.” Another warrior chucked the gourd on the ground and rose swiftly to his feet. “That is not for you to give.”

  “I saw what’s in the cart, raug.” Corian cast the warriors a fleeting glance. “We’re not running low.”

  “Not your decision.”

  “I already made it.”

  The warriors snarled and sneered at the nightstalkers, either sitting up straight or standing to add to the threat. On the other side of the clearing, Byrd smacked Lumil with the back of a hand and nodded at the growing tension. Lumil crammed the rest of her bar into her mouth and chewed fiercely, barely managing to keep it all from spilling out as she stared at another brewing battle.

  “The Hand of the Night and Circle eats from the Crown’s hand, nightstalker. Not from ours.”

  Corian shook the bar at Maleshi again. She snatched it from him and whirled around, gritting her teeth as she turned her back on the warriors to eat in silence.

  “Will you pay for her crimes too?” The warrior who’d stood first stormed toward Corian. “That’s a high price.”

  Corian darted toward the warriors in a flash of silver light and stopped mere inches in front of the snarling raug. One long, deadly sharp claw pressed against the raug’s belly right below his sternum. Looking calmly up at the gray-skinned magical, Corian flashed a feral grin beneath blazing silver eyes. “I heard the debt was already paid, brother. It’s rare that my hearing fails me, but if you think I’m mistaken, by all means, take it up with your Zokrí.” He nodded toward Cazerel, who’d hunkered down beside Ember and her crawler and was gazing up at her in admiration.

  The raug, facing a mortal slice to his core, growled deeply and stepped back. “Not all debts can be paid with one life. Try this again when we are alone, nightstalker.”

  Corian lowered his hand, and the blade-like claw retracted with a silver flash. “If you and I are ever alone, it means we’ve already failed. Don’t hold your breath.”

  He shot another warning glance at the warriors growling and muttering threats in French and the occasional O’gúleesh curse before turning his back on them. One of the raugs spat in Corian’s direction, then flung the rest of his bar over the edge of the ridge where they’d stopped.

  Cheyenne watched the nightstalker head toward Maleshi, and he sat down beside her to eat the meal he’d had to fetch for them on his own. The general’s nostrils flared as she chewed, but she finally looked up at him and gave him a brief smile. The only magical in their group who didn’t see the exchange between them, other than Cazerel, who was laughing heartily at something Ember said, was L’zar.

  “Hey,” Lumil croaked. She swallowed heavily and nodded at the stationary carts. “Any more water in all that crap?”

  “I’ll check.” Cheyenne headed toward the carts, eyeing the raug warriors the whole time. They’d gone back to talking in French and laughing at each other, casting spiteful glares at the nightstalkers. They ignored the halfling heading toward their supplies. It’s a problem with nightstalkers, then. Awesome.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Cheyenne reached under the canvas, pulled out two full drinking gourds, and tossed one across the clearing to Lumil. The goblin woman caught it and guzzled half of it down with loud, slurping gulps. Cheyenne opened the other to wash down the worst of the energy bar’s aftertaste and approached the other cart.

  Foltr still sat atop the heap of provisions, sucking the chewy gray meal out of his sharp teeth. A shouted punchline of some joke in French and the ensuing roar of raug laughter drowned out any other conversation around them. The old raug shook his head when Cheyenne offered him a drink. “If it’s not ale, Aranél, I’ll fall asleep up here.”

  The halfling snorted and leaned against the cart so she could see everyone in the clearing at the same time. She took another long drink, stoppered the gourd, and tried not to stare at Maleshi and Corian. Lumil and Byrd started another fight over the other water gourd, and Cheyenne turned toward Foltr. “Is it just me, or are they getting careless all of a sudden?”

  “The goblins have always been careless,” Foltr grumbled, “Someone should give them a good bash over the head. You can tell them it’s from me if you like.” He slid his staff toward her and dipped his head.

  “You know that’s not who I’m talking about.”

  “Yes. I know.” Taking a deep breath, the old raug picked energy-bar goo out of his teeth with a red claw. “For now, it’s none of our business.”

  “You know who’ll make it his business if he catches on, right?” Cheyenne glanced at L’zar, who hadn’t moved an inch in his meditative posture.

  “L’zar is busy plotting his own course, as always.” Foltr made it a point to look away from both the drow thief and the two nightstalkers sitting closer than normal to each other at the other end of the clearing. “No doubt another one of his plans to carry out when we find this nephew of his.”

  “And when he’s done plotting?” Cheyenne dropped her elbows casually over the side of the cart behind her. “I’ve heard a lot of stuff lately about keeping things from L’zar. Don’t draw attention to it. Don’t wave anything under his nose. Leave him alone and don’t fight him when he starts acting like a lunatic. Nobody seems to be following their own advice, especially those two.”

  Corian w
hispered something to Maleshi and the general grinned, bowing her head in an attempt to hide the expression from everyone else.

  “Leave it alone, Cheyenne.” Foltr sniffed and readjusted his staff on his lap. “The Cu’ón has a weakness for those who pledge their life and loyalty to the Four-Pointed Star and the cause we’ve all taken up as our own. His cause. That weakness includes conjuring threats where no threat exists.”

  “Seriously?” She looked up at the old raug and frowned. “He thinks they’re a threat to him?”

  “Not yet, but he might if his awareness changes.”

  “They’ve both put everything on the line to follow him into this mess, and they haven’t seen each other for what? Centuries before this?” The halfling glanced at her father, so deep in his Weaver meditation that he could have been a statue cut from a boulder the same color as his skin, and shook her head. “I don’t think I could stand behind someone who forces everyone else to give up on everything they care about except for him.”

  “Many of us have made sacrifices to force the new Cycle’s turning.” Foltr sucked his teeth again, scowled, and swallowed loudly. “Whatever you’ve heard from others, their personal stories are not unique.”

  Like Elarit and Persh’al. Now it’s Corian and Maleshi. Cheyenne shook her head. “And no one’s stood up to him about it?”

  “In their own ways, they have. And still do.” Foltr nodded at the nightstalkers and shrugged. “What L’zar doesn’t know at this point won’t hurt him, Aranél. Not right now. What he could know, on the other hand…well, that would end up hurting everyone around him, wouldn’t it?”

  “If you’re using that as a euphemism, it’s not working.”

  “It’s happened before.” The old raug stared at her and lowered his head. “That’s all you need to know before I tell you this conversation is best left buried. Do not dig it up again.”

  Cheyenne snorted and shook her head. “Digging stuff up is one of my specialties.”

  “Perhaps, but here and now is not the time and place, Aranél. L’zar might be distracted, but the rest of us cannot afford such a luxury.” He glanced at the nightstalkers one more time. “Either they will come to the same understanding, or they won’t. Lending them your focus helps no one.”

  Staring at the stone at her feet, Cheyenne nodded slowly. Never thought I’d get this wrapped up in keeping secrets from L’zar. If anyone deserves some personal time, it’s the magicals who gave it all up to watch that crazy drow’s back. They better get it out of their systems before he comes back down to reality.

  “Hishmál!” Cazerel threw his head back and roared with laughter, pointing a red-clawed finger at Ember. “Such tales, Healer. I could listen to you all day and not understand half of it!”

  The fae girl chuckled in surprise. “At least I’m amusing.”

  “Ha! Far more than that.” The chief slapped his thigh and pushed himself to his feet. “Another day, when time has grown long again, you and I will sit together again to finish these stories. Perhaps you can teach me how to understand a Healer’s metaphors, eh?”

  “Well, they’re not metaphors, but okay.”

  “We move out now!” Cazerel raised a massive arm and flicked his hand in the air. “The journey isn’t long, but it leaves us with more than enough time to be ensnared.”

  Ember swallowed. “By what?”

  “By the end from which you saved me, Healer.” He nodded firmly and headed down the incline out of the rocky clearing. “And I would rather not confront it again so soon.”

  The warriors stood quietly and jammed whatever items they’d taken from the carts back into place before swiping thick gray hands across control panels to send the carts after their chief once more.

  With a startled glance at Cazerel’s retreating back, as if he’d forgotten anyone else existed in the clearing, Corian stood abruptly and cleared his throat. “Back to it, then.”

  “One day, ma gairín,” Maleshi said. She finally noticed the goblins staring at her and Corian across the clearing and narrowed her eyes at them.

  Lumil turned and shoved Byrd after the raug chief and his warriors, ignoring the goblin’s shout of protest.

  The general stood and stormed past Cheyenne. “Don’t say anything.”

  “I wasn’t gonna.”

  “Good.”

  Corian sniffed and turned toward the meditating drow. “L’zar.”

  “Why is everyone always shouting?” L’zar snarled and waved away his Nós Aní with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Always beneath the surface. Buzzing, buzzing…buzz the fuck out of my head, huh?”

  The nightstalker suffered the strange outburst without expression. “We’re heading out again.”

  “Telling me what I already know doesn’t make you useful, Corian. Just annoying.” L’zar stood and jumped off the boulder before brushing past the nightstalker with a scowl. He muttered unintelligibly as he stalked after the rest of their traveling party and didn’t look at Cheyenne when he passed her.

  Corian scratched the back of his head and crossed the clearing.

  Cheyenne folded her arms when he approached her. “It’s almost like you enjoy the abuse.”

  “I have to pick my poison, kid. Right now, it’s the venom on his tongue.” The nightstalker shot her a warning glance. “Better than being tied up in one of his webs for the rest of eternity.”

  “His what?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  The halfling followed him and slowed down when she reached Ember waiting in the crawler at the edge of the clearing.

  The fae girl stuck her thumb out after Corian and wrinkled her nose. “Is it just me, or does everyone seem tense right now?”

  “It’s not just you, Em, but we might be the only ones weirded out by this new normal.”

  Ember swiped her hand over the control panel, and the crawler dipped forward to carry her down the incline after the rest of their raug escort. “Do I even wanna know what’s going on right now?”

  “You want to be complicit in keeping L’zar in the dark and tiptoeing around him until he’s lucid again? If he’s ever lucid again.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  Cheyenne snorted. “Trust me, I’m starting to think I prefer everyone keeping secrets from me over being a part of whatever this is, pandering to a five-thousand-year-old drow toddler with more magic than half of Ambar’ogúl combined.”

  “Five thousand? Really?”

  “Give or take, Em. I don’t know.”

  “Hmm.” Ember shifted in the crawler’s seat and frowned at the travelers ahead of them. L’zar kicked huge chunks of loose stone over the ridge down which Cazerel led them, snarling and hissing curses at something or someone no one else could see. “He looks like the kind of drow I’d want to lock up tight right now.”

  “Yep.” Cheyenne waited for the clunky, awkward crawler to scrabble its way over a steep drop in the path before she jumped down after her friend. “At this point, I think the only prison that can keep him locked up is the one he’s building inside his head.”

  “Makes sense. The drow Weaver, former heir to the O’gúl throne, practically unstoppable…and then he goes insane. That would be game over for us, wouldn’t it?”

  “No.” Cheyenne grimaced when L’zar’s next wild kick sent him reeling dangerously close to the edge of the ridge. Corian moved in a flash of silver light and grabbed the drow’s shirt to jerk him back onto the path. “I have a feeling he’s almost done being able to help us.”

  “Almost, huh?”

  “Yeah. As soon as we figure out what the hell terms I’m supposed to use for the Crown, it wouldn’t surprise me if L’zar dipped out early and left the rest of us to pick up the pieces without him. That’s what he does.”

  “Or maybe he’ll stick around as long as you do. ‘Cause the next time he makes the crossing Earthside, he can’t come back.”

  “I know.” Cheyenne shook her head. “Looks like he’s getting exactly what he wanted.�
�

  “Except for you on the throne.”

  “Well, that’s not happening, no matter what side of the Border he’s on.” The halfling shot her friend a sidelong glance and smiled. “It looked like you and the chief were having a nice little chat.”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “I thought you’d still be up there with him, enjoying your place as honored Healer.”

  “Shut up.” Ember playfully rolled her eyes. “I need a little break from a giant raug falling all over himself, asking if I need anything and planning our super important conversations after this little detour’s over.”

  “Did he offer you all the stone riches of Hirúl Breach yet? You know, to stay with him forever.”

  “Very funny.”

  They chuckled, but it was tense and distracted.

  “What stories were you telling him, anyway?”

  “Well, they weren’t about you, so you can relax. Your secret’s still a secret.”

  Cheyenne raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

  “He wanted to know about where I come from.” Ember shrugged. “So I tried to describe Chicago without giving anything away.”

  “Wow. He didn’t understand any of it.”

  “Yeah. If you wanna make a raug laugh, confuse him, I guess.”

  “Or suck the blight out of his chest.”

  Ember steered the crawler carefully over a rotting fallen tree trunk in the path and shrugged. “Honestly, I’m a little worried about what’s gonna happen once we head back to the capital after this. Like, am I gonna have a raug chief following me around everywhere because he feels like he owes me his life? Can’t exactly take him home with me.”

  “Right. He’d break the elevator.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Despite the sun shining directly down on them and the lack of shade as they passed through the rocky mountain range after Cazerel, the air was cool. The wind whipped up every time they crested another rise on the path the raug chief seemed to recognize. It made conversation harder, and the magicals traveled with a stoic concentration when they hiked over the top of another narrow ridge with long, straight drops on either side.