Warrior Rogue (The Drift Lords Series) (9 page)

“Leave the Drift Lord here.” Their commander indicated the wood plank floor in an empty room. The soldiers dumped him on the ground. “You four stay here and guard him until we get further orders. I’ll take the woman to General Morar.”

“What if she has the same power as the other one of her kind?” Gwarp said. He was the shortest among them with tufts of dark, spiked hair on his head. “We’ve heard rumors, Leytnant Bosk. If they’re true─”

“She would have already killed us. See for yourself.” Bosk squeezed her arm, making her wince in pain. “She’s nothing but a puny female.” The officer leered at her, his whiskers nearly poking her in the face. “Maybe the general will give her to me after he’s done questioning her.”

“Not if his wife has any say. Dr. Morar is likely to want this one for her experiments.”

“Too bad, then there won’t be anything left to enjoy.” Grasping Jen’s arm, Leytnant Bosk dragged her toward a spiral stone stairway. “Come, we have to get through this
maug
building before we can access the citadel.”

She got a last glimpse of Paz splayed on the floor before Bosk pushed her upstairs. They strode down a corridor lined with various rooms, the doors all in the same oppressively dark wood as the floors and ceiling beams. The walls were painted white but had grayed over time. She gazed at the solid and antique looking wooden doors leading into the different chambers and didn’t like to think of Paz sealed behind one.

How could she help him? Moreover, what power might she possess that could kill people?

Their footsteps echoed until they reached a narrow, steep staircase at the far end. Her legs trembling with fatigue, she watched her footing carefully as they descended.

At ground level again, Bosk marched her down another hallway with windows open to the sunlight. They emerged outside to the fresh air. She wanted to question her escort but had no breath left to speak as they climbed another slope toward the main complex.

Her heart sank as she realized they still had farther to go. She lurched ahead, afraid the Trollek would poke her with his electric rod if she slowed. The road curved a hundred and eighty degrees, returning the way they’d come. What sort of maze was this place?

Despair weighed her heart. Her parents would assume the airplane had crashed after it vanished from radar. No one would come looking for them. Meanwhile, she and Paz would either rot in some dungeon, or they’d be tortured by these monsters.

Dread seeped into her bones like an insidious mist, chilling her to the core.

“Who’s Dr. Morar?” She struggled to match the leytnant’s pace as they headed toward the immense white tower. “Why did Gwarp say she’d want me?”

He gave her an evil sneer. “According to Algie, you’re one of the chosen. I don’t believe in the legends myself.”

“What legends? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then you’ll meet your doom in ignorance. Keep moving.”

They came to yet another archway under a second-story structure, and she had to crouch in order to proceed. Was this built on purpose so an enemy had to squeeze through single-file? She had to admire the genius of the architect.

Laughter sounded from above. Did this place serve as a barracks for Trollek troops?

Hopelessly lost, she followed a narrow walkway lined with shrubs to a courtyard surrounded by warehouse-type buildings. The smell of cooking onions met her nose.

A man slogged past, carrying a barrel on his shoulder. He didn’t even glance their way.

Her mind numbed as they climbed more steps, passed through more gates, and skirted more buildings. She didn’t like the vibe from the place labeled
Tent Ten.
Armed Trolleks flanked its iron-plated door, in front of which drag marks scored the soil.

Finally, they entered a tall structure past a final stone arch. Inside, the interior reminded her of a cave with its lack of light and claustrophobic feeling.

They climbed to the fourth level. Jen surmised this must be the main keep. Her gut quivered. Whoever was in charge of this compound would be waiting for her beyond the next door.

They emerged into a great hall lit by fading sunlight filtering through long, narrow windows. Spears, swords, and axes hung on the walls. Utilitarian furnishings were arranged in various groupings, clearly lived in from the empty glassware and bowls of fruit on the tables.

At the far end was a massive stone fireplace. Bosk prodded her in that direction. Standing before the mantel was an imposing Trollek, his tunic decorated with medals and a fierce scowl on his face as he watched them approach.

Bosk beat his chest and bowed. “General Morar, I bring you the human female as ordered.”

The military commander meandered over to inspect her. His nostrils flared as his beady gaze studied her from head to toe. She washed her face of emotion so her revulsion wouldn’t show. He had broad shoulders, a muscled torso, and a nose that vied with Pinocchio for length. This beast had a wife? She wondered how they kissed, or if Trolleks even followed that custom.

If she ever got out of this, she should learn more about their culture. The old adage,
know your enemy
, still rang true.

General Morar expanded his chest. “This woman doesn’t look like much of a threat.”

“No, Min Drott. She knows nothing of the legends.”

The general scratched his bristly jaw. “Then again, Nira Larsen looked like a redheaded nymph, and yet she killed the Grand Marshal. My wife wishes to take charge of this one. I see no reason to deny her. Where is the woman’s companion?”

He didn’t take his eyes off Jen as he spoke. She stared forward, chin held high, feeling like a prisoner of war. Her knees quaked, and her heart raced. Terror assaulted her in huge, pulsating waves. She’d never felt so alone.

Leytnant Bosk wiped a dribble of spit from his mouth. “We left him at the West gate. The Drift Lord gave us some trouble, so we subdued him.”

“Drift Lord?” Morar’s face lit with astonishment. “No wonder he resisted our troops in the aircraft. He must have been sent to guard this woman.”

“If you need help with his interrogation─”

“I’ll handle it myself.” Morar compressed his lips. “Our liege was not happy when Prince Zohar’s team destroyed the transmitter at Drift World and blew up our operations center. We must find out what his colleagues plan next.”

Jen stood still as a statue, listening.
Prince
Zohar? Paz hadn’t mentioned any royal titles to her. He’d be happy to hear his team had succeeded in blowing up the jamming device. At least that’s what she figured Morar meant by the transmitter.

Surely the Trolleks would realize Zohar’s team could locate the rifts now. But wait, the beasts were interested in what the Drift Lords planned next? That meant some of them had survived the last battle. Paz needed to know this; he’d be relieved by the news. If only she could see him.

“Were your troops responsible for attacking us mid-air?” she ventured to ask.

The general nodded. “My orders were to capture you once we detected your signal. We didn’t expect to encounter any resistance. Our troops panicked and set off an EM grenade.”

“What do you mean, you detected my signal?”

He glanced at the other officer and shrugged. “You’re right, she knows nothing. Nonetheless, we’d better notify our other recruitment centers to monitor the frequencies. If we can capture the other women and break the circle, the king’s advisor won’t have to worry about the prophecy anymore.”

Jen dared to look him in the eye. “Will someone please tell me what this prophecy is all about?”

General Morar ignored her. “I have to report to the Council, and then I’ll question our other guest. Meanwhile, take our female prisoner to my wife. Algie has just finished with her latest test subject.”

“I didn’t hear any screams.” Leytnant Bosk sounded disappointed.

Morar glanced at him consideringly. “This one knows you. She might be more cooperative in your presence. I’ll tell Algie to let you stay and watch.” He poked Jen in the chest. “What’s your name, human?”

She didn’t see the harm in telling him. “Jennifer Dyhr.”

“If Bosk tells me you’ve been helpful, I’ll make sure the Drift Lord gets a swift death when the time comes. Otherwise, it’ll be more agonizing for him than you can ever imagine.”

Jen’s vision blurred, and she barely heard General Morar’s parting words to his subordinate.

“I’ll notify Algie you’re on the way. She will be eager to get started. You are dismissed, Leytnant.”

Jen needed to think of some way out of this before she and Paz were both tortured and killed. Pressing a hand to her head, she followed Bosk while two troopers brought up their rear.

How had she not noticed that incessant buzzing sound before? Her head ached like a thousand hammers were pounding her.

The prophecy…that was the key. Paz had connected her to Nira Larsen, and Nira had killed a man, or rather, a Trollek.
How? And what’s my role in all this?

If only she had some answers, she might know what to do.

As Bosk marched her away, she decided her best bet was to gain intelligence and bluff her way out of this situation through the power of superstition. If the troops thought she was a witch of sorts, she’d just have to provide the smoke and mirrors to accomplish her escape.

Never mind that the task seemed impossible. Never mind that she had no idea about the legends. And never mind that her stomach knotted when Bosk led her down the stairs, out of the keep, and toward the place known as Tent Ten.

Chapter Seven

Paz awakened with a pounding headache and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. He tested his limbs. Everything moved on his command, albeit stiff and sore. He appeared to be lying on a cold, packed earth surface.

He opened his eyes upon total blackness and felt a surge of panic. Had the beating left him visually impaired? Rising on an elbow, he grunted at the bodily aches that ensued. He stifled his response when a scraping noise sounded from behind.

“Who’s there?” He held his breath, listening to the silence.

Hearing nothing, he sniffed the stale air, rife with the smell of burning filaments that indicated a rift. Had the soldiers brought him inside the citadel? Maybe he could find a wall to lean against if this was some sort of cell.

He’d just sat upright when a voice startled him.

“Welcome to the dungeon, my friend. If you’re wondering why you can’t see anything, it’s because there’s no light,” the speaker’s dry, raspy tone informed him.

“Who are you, and what is this place?” Thank the Creator he hadn’t been blinded.

“My name is Smitty. It’s short for Goldsmith. At least, that’s what the Trolleks call me. My real name is Anga’ra Deylano Bo’org Vir.”

Paz’s mouth curved in the dark. “I’ll stick with Smitty. Where are we?”

“Shirajo Manor. Why are you here?”

Aware that this could be a trick to get him to talk, Paz replied with caution. “I’m Paz Hadar. My aircraft crash-landed on the beach.”

“And these savages picked you up? How come they didn’t confound you? Are you human?”

“I could ask you the same.”

“Their spell doesn’t work on me. I’m a member of the dwarf kingdom.”

Paz coughed on the word. “Dwarf? As in, little people?”

“We’re not just any little people,” Smitty said in a haughty tone. “Our realm isn’t normally visible to humans, or to Trolleks either, for that matter. I had the bad luck to get caught when I was making a delivery.”

“I had a companion with me. Is she here?” His heart lurched. What had the beasts done with Jen?

“Sorry, it’s just us. So why did you say you’re not confounded?”

I didn’t.
Yet what would it matter if he told the truth? Maybe he could gain an ally, if Smitty wasn’t a mole.

“I’m a Drift Lord sent to dispel the Trolleks back to their dimension.”

“We’ve heard of you.” Smitty’s voice quavered with excitement. “Your league began eons ago when the Trolleks first broke through the dimensional barrier. Whenever there’s a breach, your warriors contain it. You come from a place far away, but your origins were here.”

Paz adjusted his position with a grimace. His lower back ached. “You’re well informed, my friend.”

“This time, the Trolleks have launched a wide scale invasion that’s affecting everyone. My kind might be interested in forming an alliance with you. We’ve stayed neutral up until now, but I suspect that will change after my report.”

“Why are the beasts keeping you here? Is it because you’re immune to their confounding spell? They can still get you to join their labor force with their blasted shock sticks.”

A moment of silence followed. “They have used it, among other methods. But what I do isn’t ordinary labor. That is why they separate me from their human slaves. Plus they fear if I escape, they’ll face the wrath of my brethren.”

“Does no one know what happened to you?” Paz knew how that felt. He was glad for the companionship, even if he couldn’t trust the fellow yet.

A clanging sound deterred any further discussion.

“It’s not meal time yet. They must be coming for you,” Smitty said in a low, warning tone.

Paz’s muscles tensed. The door swung open, and a bright light blinded him. He flung up an arm to protect his eyes.

“Bring that one, Menig,” a Trollek barked.

The enlisted soldier twisted Paz’s wrists behind his back and clamped a set of manacles on him. He hauled Paz to his feet and shoved him toward the light. Paz stumbled blindly into a wall.

“Not that way, you pale-faced son of a snipeling. Try the door.” The menig guffawed, swatting Paz on the shoulder blade.

His vision cleared as four troopers marched him through winding corridors and outside past several gates. The moon had risen in the darkened sky, and crickets sang their nightly chorus. Slaves trudged past, their eyes downcast, not even bothering to spare him a glance. He glimpsed the tall donjon that was the main keep before the guards prodded him into another building.