War of the Princes 02: Dragoon (5 page)

C
hapter 9: The Dark

At first, I couldn't believe the level of security
in place to contain Dylan. After some consideration, it made perfect sense. He had a strong Ability that allowed him to manipulate gravity, and, in addition to that, the power of a Commander. With a single thought, he could control a person’s body. Make them walk off a cliff or stop breathing, if he willed it.

As Brendon had told me, he was being kept in the dungeon below the keep. I had spent a night there before, so I was surprised to see its new design. My pair of guards escorted me to a narrow outer room. It housed two Militia watchmen, two massive levers attached to four grinding gears set into the wall, and a single door without a visible lock or knob.

“Send her in,” my guard said to the others.

In a moment, one of the watchmen was turning the first lever. It was such a large
mechanism, he had to put his back into it. The heavy door slid open. It was a slab of stone, tipped with bronze, and made way slowly. I was already feeling queasy at the prospect of seeing Dylan again, but if this setup was any indication, I should be afraid of him too.

“
Well, what's the worst that could happen?” I joked, mostly to myself. The guards didn't find me at all funny.

I stepped into the room and shielded my eyes. There was a bright spot lamp
aimed at a massive cube of barred iron. Within this cage was a cot, a single chair, a small table, a deck of cards, and Dylan, with a metal collar around his throat. A thick chain hung from his neck, down to the floor, and gradually weaved through the bars, plunging directly into the stone wall.

“
Who's that? Who is my brother sending down this time? A priest?” Dylan Axton laughed darkly.

My guts wrenched upon seeing him. He looked so different, standing there, squinting at me through the light that blasted him in the face. He was taller than before, and by the shape of his plain, dirty clothes, I could tell he had become more muscular. Once fashionable and elegant, he was scruffy now, with blond hair that had grown past his shoulders.

“You could dim it a little, I can't see a thing,” he complained. “I'm on best behavior, I promise!”

The lights dimmed
and he saw me. No one had spoiled the surprise. His mouth fell open, and dazed, he wandered to the front of the cage to hold the bars.

“
You,” he whispered.

Scruff or not, he was still infuriatingly beautiful. Prettier than any guy should have been.

My eyes narrowed. I could see where the metal ridge poked at his shirt from his collarbone. The unnatural growth was a side effect to consuming another person's life energy. I looked him over, wondering if this was when he would fall to his knees, begging my forgiveness for the wrong he had committed.

“
You,” he repeated with an edge to it as sharp as any good knife. “It seems you lived.”

“
So did you,” I said, unwilling to take my eyes off of him long enough to blink. The tension in the room was tangible.

A fierce smile broke across his face.
“Right. Is that what you'd call this? Living?” He pushed away from the bars and stalked in a circle. “All the comforts of home. No windows. No company. No shower. No lavatory but a bucket. No functioning doors. That's right. This birdcage of mine is welded shut, end-to-end.
Living
. Oh, right! And if I say something they don't like, the lever in that other room winds up my leash here, and snap I go! Right into the wall.” He swept his hand across his table, flinging his few belongings to the ground. Resting his palms on the table, he slumped for a brief moment, staring at its surface. “I can't even hang myself properly.” Turning his head slowly, his hazel eyes found me again. “Is that what you'd call living?”

I clenched my jaw.
“You did this to yourself.”

“
You
did this to me!” he shouted, rushing the bars.

The chain snapped taut in an instant and he came up short, momentum knocking his own legs out from under him. Hands clutching the collar around his neck, he lay on the ground, coughing.
“I didn't do anything!” he shouted at the guards in the other room, dragging himself up to a sitting position. His voice was raw and ragged. “I won't hurt her. I'd never do that.”

The chain went slack and he leaned
over to catch his breath.

I folded my arms together, refusing to pity him.
“You've done enough of that already.”

He looked up at me through strands of
unkempt hair. “What do you want from me, Katelyn?”

“
Your brother,” I began, but he cut me off with a bark of laughter.

“
My valiant brother. Such a fair and just leader, he locks away his only living kin to rot.” His words dripped with bitterness. “The two of you are friends now? Bosom companions? A pair of stately heroes worthy of everlasting praise? You're both so
perfect.
I take it Rune didn't work out for you. Tell me, how long was it before you started moving on to seduce his childhood friends?”

Boiling anger swelled up in me.
“Forget it. I don't need this.”

As soon as I turned to leave, he stopped me.
“Wait. Katelyn, wait. I apologize. Please, don't go.”

Reluctantly, I faced him again.

He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I'm not myself. It's difficult to be anyone worth speaking to, in this place. What did my brother say to you?”

“
He wants to give you another chance,” I said in spite of my discomfort. “I'm here to look for something. When I find it, I'll return home. Lord Brendon wants you to help me in exchange for your freedom.”

“
I'll do it,” he said immediately.

“
Anything to get out of here, huh?” I asked, watching him.

“
Can you blame me?”

“
You’d probably be safer here. Brendon told me there's a chance I'll run into the Prince's army.”

Dylan thought for a moment.
“Yes, I believe that would cause quite a stir. You'll need a plan, and a good one. I can pass you off as a Historian. It's the perfect cover. I'll teach you what to do. If we meet any soldiers, they will treat you with respect, especially if you're in my company. We can do it.”

Skeptical didn't even begin to describe me.
“A historian?”

“
Trust me, it will work,” he insisted.

I gave him a sidelong look that provoked him.

“Or don't trust me, but it'll still work.”

He was as desperate as a man drowning. I could see it in his eyes. Was it enough to influence him to do good? Maybe a second chance was what he needed.
Year long solitude in prison didn't count for nothing.

What was I thinking? He was a manipulative liar who'd do anything to save his own skin.

“I can't,” I said squeezing my eyes shut and shaking my head.

“
You need me,” he implored, shuffling to his feet.

What I really needed was a boat, and I wouldn't get one without Brendon Axton's help. I could
make an appeal for Ruby’s release, turn around, head home.

And leave
Paperglass here to die.

If Prince
Raserion made her talk, he'd find Haven. Eddie Elm's prediction would come true. Could I be satisfied with the hopes that she could get home herself? Eddie hadn't thought so. It was bad. My odds with Dylan were better than the alternative.

“
Gravity, I hate this,” I groaned, fighting off the bad feeling devouring the pit of my stomach. I knew it was a stupid choice, but I simply couldn't see any other way.

I could get a job at the docks. Spend the next six months trying to save enough money to buy a
rowboat, be tossed overboard by waves and eaten by giant bloodthirsty fish.

The seaworthy vessels were steam ships and some of them hovered several feet above the water. Even if I managed to steal one, I probably couldn't drive it. Not to mention, I'd make an enemy of Lord Brendon and have a hell of a time getting past Breakwater and back home on the return trip.

“I can't believe I'm actually saying this. You're in. I'm not going to ask you to promise me anything, because I wouldn't believe you anyway, but there is one hitch.”

“Oh?”

“
I have a condition of my own,” I said pulling the shiny leather satchel from where it was slung over my back. “I’m going to neutralize your Abilities.”

“What?”

“It will only be for a short time.”

“Small consolation!” he cried out.

“I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable.” I snapped the case open, fished out a paper packet of gunpowder, and produced the sleek flintlock pistol. After pausing to think, I chanted a memorized phrase. “Powder, paper, bullet, paper.”

He straightened to his full height.
“What are you going to do with that?”

“
Shoot you,” I said, tearing the packet open and pouring the gunpowder vertically down the throat of the barrel.

“
Not so much of that!” he hissed, looking horribly disturbed. “Neutralize? So this is an execution?”

“
You know, I kind of wish it was,” I said, pursing my lips together. “The bullets dissolve. Just think of it as an inoculation. It's just going to sting a little... I think.”

“
I object to this!” he said, his chin lifting with pride. “I could stop you.”

He certainly could. I glared at him.
“Yeah. You could Command me to stop, or you could lift the pistol out of my hand, but if you do, you'll end up losing to yourself at card games until you mature into a dashing young skeleton.”

Dylan frowned at me, and I couldn't care less.

I tore a chunk of the paper packet, crumpled it, and stuffed it down the barrel. Next, I carefully picked a single round bullet from the ammunition pouch. It was a strange thing, a perfect sphere of incredibly hard yellow gel. I popped it down the tube, followed by a smaller wad of packet paper.

“
I thought you people were peaceful,” he complained.

“
Marksmanship is a sport,” I said, loosing the ramrod from its position below the barrel. Carefully, I packed everything down against the gunpowder. When I was finished, I replaced the ramrod, pulled back the hammer to a half cocked position, and tapped the tiny amount of remaining gunpowder into the pan beside the pistol's hammer. “People use guns for hunting all the time.”

“
Comforting,” he groaned. “Is that packed down enough? It would just be tragic if the thing blew up in your eyes.”

Biting my bottom lip, I used my thumbs to pull the hammer even farther back. The gun was ready to fire. I gripped it and
tested the weight of it in my hands. When I pointed it at him, he stumbled backwards with his hands up, and bumped into the table behind him.

“
Cover your face.”

“
Why?” his voice cracked.

“
I'm not a very good shot.”

“
Not a good shot? Have you ever fired one of those?”

“
No.”

“
What?”

“
I learned to load a fake one in survival camp. How hard could it be?”

He grimaced, turning his head as far over his left shoulder as he could reach. He used one hand to block his face, and the other to protect his nether region.

“I think I did everything right,” I mused thoughtfully to myself, giving the pistol a quick look over.

“
Ugh. Just get on with it!”

“
Okay, I'll count to three,” I said, aiming the gun between a wide gap in the bars. I squinted, leveling the barrel at his leg. My finger rested on the trigger. “One...”

Bang!

C
hapter 10:
Ship on the Water

“Take care of her,” I pleaded, standing at the foot of Breakwater Keep. The waves crashed against the wide, paved pier that connected the towering structure to the land. Seabirds glided over us, comfortable, despite the wind's harrying threat of an incoming storm. Darkness was building on the horizon. The air smelled of brine and dread.

“
I will adhere to our agreement,” Lord Brendon answered. He stood between the broad, open double doors of the keep, with an array of Militia soldiers on either side of him. More lined the bridge to the mainland, with spears and flapping black flags. Some were armed with rifles, but all wore swords, sheathed on their belts. There hadn't been so many Militia last year, but what else would childless parents do in times like these? “Look after my brother.”

“Bren, how do you expect me to go along with this? She
shot
me!” Dylan cried out at his brother.

“
One shot wasn't enough,” Kyle said under his breath. Thankfully, Lord Brendon didn't hear.

“
It was for our own protection,” I reminded Dylan. “He's fine.”

“
I am most certainly
not
fine!” Dylan argued, clutching his bandaged side with his iron cuffed hands. Having been washed and clothed in his usual fine garments hadn't improved his temper. He stood five feet away from me and it was still too close.

“Help her,” Brendon told Dylan. “And you’ll find a place in this keep once more.”

The early evening sun was making its way over the Haven Mountains to the west, and warm golden light spilled over the keep. I could see Ruby, clutching the rail of a tiny balcony on the fourth floor, watching us. Her red hair beamed like a beacon. She was shouting down at us, I could just faintly hear it now, but the bellow of the waves swallowed her voice. I wished I had time to speak with her, alone. I needed to apologize for so many things.

“
You can't do this!” Sterling said striding forward. Kyle lunged out and caught him by the forearm to stop him from taking another step. The guards had their hands to their sword belts in an instant. “Let me bring Ruby home. We’ll never come back, I promise.”

“
Negotiations are over,” Brendon said with finality. Inclining his head in my direction, the Lord of Breakwater gave me a hard look that challenged my authority over my friends.

“
Sterling,” I said in quiet warning. He stayed where he was, but scowled at me for it. His neck was reddening with anger and a pair of long veins became notably visible. I'd never seen him so upset.

Brendon was right about one
thing; Ruby would be safe in Breakwater. I met the Common-Lord's gaze again. “If we could see her one last time.”

“
You have precious little time for that,” he straightened his naturally regal posture. “And I have even less. Dylan’s order for supplies has arrived on the black dock, food, proper clothes and the like. I have lent the coin, but you'll have to find passage on your own. I've spared all that I can, within reason. Good luck to you all, and brother, this is your last chance. See that you don't squander it.”

*   *   *

Walking away from Ruby was one of the hardest things I had ever done. Guilt was shredding my insides. The last time we spoke, we had fought. I doubted that she had gotten my apology note. Would she ever forgive me now?

It's not supposed to happen like this.

The four of us had reached the black dock in silence. On a normal day, we would have been speaking. At that moment in time, I was boiling with anger. An eighteen-year-old girl barely scraping the five-foot-five marker wasn't an intimidating sight, but all three of the guys walking with me knew what I was capable of, and gave me a wide berth.

On our way, we passed scores of
coastal fishing boats. Most were out on the water, hissing ribbons of steam from their slender chimneys. Others were stationary, tied securely by ropes to the dock while their owners made repairs. A few were returning with their morning haul and unloading their pungent catch. The Brown Docks, with all of their fishing boats, comprised about three quarters of the harbor.

Proud, dark birds with long, hook-tipped beaks congregated on the piers, planks and even the boats themselves. Curiously, many of them wore chains about their ankles or collars around their necks. More than
a few times, I saw them glide overhead, tuck their wings, and spear headfirst into the water.

Our destination, the
Black Docks, had gotten their name for a very obvious reason. The wood used in their construction was ebony in color. The triple lane byway was only a slice of the sprawling harbor, but an impressive one. This was where the long-voyage vessels would park, and they required more space. There were several ships docked that made the small fishing boats, with their little round hanging lanterns, look like toys on the water. These crafts were each at least two or three levels of height and made of metal. Some were sleeker and shinier than others, but most were blocky and rusted.

In the center of the main dock sat a pile of crates, barrels and bundles. A sign was attached to the
heap. It read:
Kestrel
. Four horses were tethered just beyond the gear, two brown, one white, and one shiny gray. The gray was tall, with a strong neck and a square nose. Without a doubt, it was Florian. Strange to think, I'd been presented this horse by each Axton brother. Brendon had really come through for us.

I walked to Florian. He lifted his head and perked his ears at m
y approach, and I smiled when he sniffed my hands. Glad as I was to see him, it wasn’t much consolation for the dangers ahead. It would have been alarming enough if I only had to worry about myself, like I’d planned. What in the world were my friends even doing here? The answer was just over my shoulder, in the shape of a stocky, athletic blonde boy.

I spun on Sterling.
“You just had to follow me again, didn't you? You're the reason I'm in this mess. Why did you have to bring
them
with you?”

He stopped and
had the nerve to appear stupefied by my outburst.

“
What you did to me yesterday wasn't enough? You just had to keep tailing me.”

“
I...” Sterling stammered.

“
You're working for your dad. I know. But, gravity, why did you have to bring Ruby and Kyle with you? You're a real jerk, you know that?”

The big guy stared at the ground, looking defeated.

Kyle moved between us to intercept me from my warpath. “Kat, wait. Slow down.”

“
What!
” I didn't mean to come off so strongly. I was just a little stressed.

Mildly stressed. Hah.

He held onto my shoulders and faced me. There was a certain charm about his easy, lopsided smile, and his lanky disheveled demeanor that always disarmed me.

He wasn't smiling now, however. He let go of my shoulders when he knew he had my attention.
“Kat, um. It was me. I was the one who followed you.”

“
What?”

“
I had to...” Kyle began, trying to explain himself and coming up short. He ran a hand through his hair and then pushed his sleeves up to the elbows, as though the habit would help him speak clearer. “After those stories you told me, well, you know me. Proof first, debate later. I didn’t believe you at first, and the Shadow Chaser was amazing, but Kat, my last name was engraved in mechanical Lurcher bones! I had to see this place for myself, I just had to.”

A sigh ripped from my throat.
“Of course you did. I should have known this would happen. I don't know what I was thinking.” Apparently guilty-Kyle could also disarm me.

“
Technically, I followed you, Ruby followed me, and Sterling followed Ruby,” Kyle said. “It was sort of comical. I didn't even know until the Lurchers herded us together. Kat… they were
incredible.
Biological machines that obey commands! Does it get any better than that? Anyway, you should have seen Sterling's face! He was trying to fight them off with a stick. Keeping after you in the hills was easy, there was no one else around, but when we got to the city we lost you. We probably looked suspicious, the way we were staring at those automobiles. Then we saw the elephant.”

“It was
huge,” Sterling added, as though I didn’t believe them.

“Sure took
Ru by surprise though. She took one look up at its trunk and screamed at the top of her lungs.”

“And then we were arrested,” Sterling confirmed.

“You must have been walking around town for about an hour. That’s how long we waited at the keep. That guy, Lord Brandon…”

“Brendon,” I corrected him.

“Yeah. He came in to talk to us. I remembered you telling me about him. He let you escape last year and Ruby thought that by mentioning you, he’d let us go. Didn’t exactly work out that way though.”

My shoulders hung low
. A notion of failure sunk into my bones. “I was supposed to come alone. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt. You guys were the last people I wanted to be involved in this.”

Sterling was staring at me now, but I wouldn't look at him. If he wanted an apology, he could shove it.

“Someone is robbing us,” Dylan pointed out from the sidelines, gesturing with his shackled wrists.

“What?” I gaped.

He was right. A crew of people were grabbing armloads of our stuff and hefting it onto the deck of the smallest boat this side of the harbor. The vessel was a quilt of patched copper and brass, with a few mismatched bolts and hinges of silver and gold. Standing among the busy men was a tall, lithe woman. Her dark brown hair was cropped artfully to the chin, and combined with her white buttoned shirt, twill waistcoat, fitted trousers, and thigh-high brown boots, she came off as both practical and stylish. If she was ten or fifteen years older than us, age hadn’t diminished her beauty one bit. She wasn't standing meekly on the sidelines, but delegating orders to the dockworkers.

“
Whoa,” Kyle said, instantly mesmerized. I couldn't tell what he was more interested in, the boat or the girl.

I pursed my lips and stalked forward to confront her.

“What do you think you're doing?” Dylan demanded, before I could say a word.

“
Gently, gently now,” she called out to one of the men making off with our crates. Next, she addressed Dylan. “I'm loading my ship.”

A man came over and reined the horses
across the ramp onto the boat.

“
Hey, wait!” I called after him, but he brought them aboard without giving me a second glance.

“
This is property of the Common-Lord of Breakwater. Who do you think you are?” Dylan demanded, halting at the edge of the dock, inches away from the deck of her little ship.

She raised an eyebrow and looked him over.
“I’m Carmine Rousseau. Who do you think
you
are, pretty boy?” she repeated, and didn’t wait for an answer. A greasy man wearing a black apron and gloves was disembarking from her ship. “Stiller, come back here. Stiller, you good for nothing excuse for a mechanic, if you don’t fix it, you don’t get paid. Fine. Go. I’m never hiring you again!”

Dylan looked
tragically indignant. “I'm Lord Dylan Axton. I order you to return these belongings to the dock.”

“
Dylan Axton? With irons on your wrists? I doubt that very much. I will not remove these supplies. I work for Kestrel,” she said easily.

As entertaining as it was to see Dylan disrespected, I simply had to
intercede. Kyle and Sterling were at my heels. “I'm Kestrel... er... Katelyn. I didn't hire you.”

She looked at me and blushed.
“Damn. I wouldn't have guessed that. You're a girl, and young. I imagined a stocky man with a twirled moustache.” Pacing in a circle, and doing a very graceful job of it, this Carmine Rousseau person seemed a bit disappointed. “Well, this is rather embarrassing.”

“
I'd apologize for embarrassing you, but seeing as you're stealing our belongings, I just don't feel too sorry,” I told her, crossing my arms.

The last of the items was placed firmly on her deck, and the crew of men swaggered back into the docks.

The woman sighed. “I meant this to be a grand surprise, simplifying your journey. You don't need to interview ship after ship, if you already have one.”

“
You're out of work,” Dylan translated. “Not surprising.”

“
You will be paying, won't you?” she asked.

“
Yeah. I hate to say it, but you gambled right, we don't have the time to hunt for other ships. We need to be on the water now,” I admitted. Her brazen strategy didn't bother me. We were lucky she acted and saved us some time.