Lindsay Buroker - Blood and Betrayal

Sicarius disappeared from view. Maldynado wanted to sink low in his nook and bury his head, but he peeked around the closest tree instead.

All around the beach, trees had been felled or were falling. So many branches and bushes burned that it seemed like one huge inferno spouting flames into the sky. Even in his protected copse, the heat battered Maldynado’s face.

Every trace of the dirigible, including the metal hull, had disappeared. Incinerated.

Maldynado groaned. “So much for salvaging the craft.” Not only would Lady Buckingcrest never forgive him, but she might even send men out to hunt him down.

Nothing but smoldering black smudges remained of the footlocker and abandoned gear on the beach. Beyond the crash site, a massive dark shape cast its shadow over the water. The solid dome hovered a few meters above the wetlands, its smooth, unadorned hull so inky black it appeared as if a semi-circular hole had opened up in the sky, revealing empty nothingness within. The craft seemed to be waiting.

“That cannot be good,” the emperor murmured.

Maldynado pulled back and leaned his forehead against fuzzy, damp moss growing up the side of his tree. “I hope Amaranthe was able to get out of the water and find a place to hide before they saw her.”

“They’re probably not looking for her,” Sespian said. “They’ll want me back.”

Back or dead? Maldynado kept the thought to himself. Sespian had enough on his mind. “If they stumbled across Amaranthe while looking for you, I’m sure they’d be happy to pick her up-or shoot her outright. We’ve caused a lot of trouble for them, and she’s our fountainhead.”

Sespian winced. “I would… deeply regret it if harm came to her because of me.”

The words weren’t hollow ones. Maldynado could tell from the new layer of concern that weighed down Sespian’s face. So much for not putting more on his mind.

Maldynado fidgeted, eager to hunt for Amaranthe. If Forge hadn’t found her, and she was holed up somewhere, incapacitated from her injuries, she’d be waiting for her team’s help. Actually, incapacitated or not, she’d be scheming up some way to help herself, but she wouldn’t be too proud to accept assistance.

“Is it gone yet?” Maldynado whispered.

From his spot, Sespian had a better view of the water. “It’s moved closer.”

“Wonderful. They must be hoping we’ll stroll out and volunteer to be flambeed.”

“Or maybe it’s going to torch the entire wetlands to ensure we’re all dead.”

“Cheery thought.” Maldynado said. Maybe Sespian knew Forge didn’t want him “back” after all.

A tree snapped. Branches broke, and leaves rattled as it fell, landing with a noisy splash. Maldynado gripped the mossy bark of his own tree and leaned out, trying to keep his body hidden as he observed the craft.

Still hovering, the floating dome crowded the shoreline. Trees standing next to it appeared as thin and frail as toothpicks. Its convex top rose higher than their canopies. Nothing on the flat black bottom of the craft caused ripples in the water below, nor did the leaves in the trees near it stir, so Maldynado couldn’t imagine how it flew or stayed in the air. It did drift from side to side as it hovered, occasionally bumping those “toothpicks,” causing them to crash to the ground as if they were rootless dowels capable of being knocked over in the faintest breeze.

Maldynado expected the craft to tire of waiting and to send some of those deadly beams out to raze the entire forest, leaving nothing but a smoking crater. But, after hovering for several more moments, it floated upward. Once above the canopy, it headed south.

Long before Maldynado thought crawling out of hiding would be wise, Sicarius darted past him. He leaped ten feet into the air, caught the side of a stout pine, and scrambled up the trunk. He skimmed upward, zipping around branches like a squirrel before disappearing from view.

“That man is exceedingly odd,” Sespian observed.

“Oh, you have no idea,” Maldynado said.

“Why does Corporal Lokdon employ him?” Sespian asked lightly, as if he were simply making conversation and the answer didn’t matter, but intensity sharpened his brown eyes.

“He can thump everyone else into pawpaw pulp, and he does what the boss asks.” As soon as Maldynado said that, he thought of Sicarius’s recent string of assassinations and grimaced. “Most of the time anyway.” That might not be all that accurate either. “Often enough that she finds him useful,” he amended.

“Hm. And I suppose she must find you useful too.” Sespian raised his eyebrows.

Maldynado vowed to be careful what he said. If his brother, Ravido, truly planned to usurp the throne, Maldynado might be presumed guilty by lieu of having the same parents. “Oh, I’m all sorts of useful.” He touched his chest and offered his most disarming smile-it worked wonders on women, though a nineteen-year-old emperor might be less enamored. “I’m tolerable good at thumping folks, too, and I can get great deals from the many female clerks and businesswomen in Stumps.”

Sespian mulled that over for a moment before saying, “You’re the group shopper?”

“Technically, yes, but don’t forget the thumping part.” Maldynado lifted an arm and flexed his biceps.

Sespian’s measuring gaze remained on him long enough that Maldynado started to feel silly holding his arm aloft. He lowered it, but kept the affable smile. He didn’t have anything to hide, but he’d prefer it if the emperor saw him as a simple man, the sort who couldn’t string together a coup if he wanted to. Or maybe the sort who, even if he could string together a coup, couldn’t be bothered to make the effort. Nobody worried about men like that.

Sicarius dropped out of the tree, bending his knees to soften the landing. “Books.”

Foliage stirred somewhere behind Maldynado, and boots crunched through the twigs and dead leaves. Grumbling accompanied the footsteps, something about, “being summoned like a hound.”

When Books stopped in front of him, Sicarius dropped a compass into one pocket and pulled a folded piece of paper out of another. Curious, Maldynado wriggled out of his nook. With the dirigible nothing more than a memory, it seemed unlikely the enemy craft would return.

“I need a pen,” Sicarius told Books.

Annoyance flickered across Books’s weathered face. “You think gathering writing utensils was my first priority after that brawny toad-” Books pointed at Maldynado, “-crashed us? I was hurrying to get out before the engine exploded, something I assumed would happen given that Maldynado had been flying. I didn’t even have a chance to grab my sword.”

“Come now, Booksie,” Maldynado said, “we all know you could be set upon by a platoon of Nurian soldiers and you’d always grab writing utensils first. You can only fight one man at a time with a sword, but, with a pen, you can compose a lecture to bore legions of enemy troops to death.”

Books glared at him. Sicarius held out his hand.

Sighing, Books pulled out his journal and unclipped a pen. The journal was the compact, leather-bound one that had disappeared the day before the team left the capital. Maldynado hadn’t realized he’d gotten it back.

Sicarius took the pen, unfolded his paper, and laid it on the ground. It was a map of the satrapy. Sicarius marked a couple of topographical features, scribbled coordinates under them, then started drawing lines. Maldynado scratched his head.

By now, the others had gathered around. Books and Basilard were nodding as they watched, and, after a moment, Sespian seemed to get it too. Akstyr and Yara didn’t show any signs of enlightenment, but they didn’t seem to care either.