This Deadly Engine Page 9

  The voice remained as silent as it had since Reckard took Rebecca away.

  See? No sooner than I put on even a charade of caring, life breaks my damned heart.

  I folded my arms tight and leaned my head on the back of the pew in front of me.

  Why am I here?

  Perhaps the better question to ask is what am I going to do about it?

  The answer, of course, came from the echo in my head…of Rebecca asking, “Can you love me, Alexander Asherton?”

  Could I be so cold as to leave her to the whims of Reckard? No. Regardless of my feelings concerning her question, I made a promise to keep her safe. And I would make good on my word. I would walk into the lair of monsters and of nightmares and face the death that surely waited.

  At the least, I would have a final accounting with Reckard and, if providence favored me, with Schaever.

  “The price of victory increases while the cost of defeat will be most unpleasant,” the Treyo Duthku said.

  “Why are you here? Now? Why did you wait until Reckard moved against me?” I did not bother to look at her but kept my head down. “Bloodhunters pursued me. I asked for help. You refused. I needed a magic fix to keep going. I asked for help. You refused.” The watch Cavendish gave me to summon aid had proved to be nothing more than a trinket to remind me of my enslavement. A worthless gadget in a town full of them. Like everyone else, the Elders abandoned me when I needed their assistance the most.

  “I bring the means of life, and you question my motives?” the lady asked with an offensive tone that bordered on fakery.

  “I question everything about you. What do you want, Treyo Duthku?”

  “To do the bidding of our Mistress, as I am sure you do as well.”

  “Was my delivery of Lady Elizabeth not enough to satisfy your Mistress? Why are you bothering me here and now?”

  “The body you delivered provided valuable information. Our Mistress and her peers were most satisfied.” The elf paused. “I must admit I do not understand your people’s desire to build such…restricting structures as this place. On my world, we prefer the open air and the ceiling of the sky. We find beauty and magnificence, not in the creation of our hands, but in the glory of the great creator.” She paused again. “As for why I am here and at this moment, I will only say that the time has arrived for you to serve our Mistress again. She summons neither too early nor too late.”

  “In this case, she has summoned far, far too late.” When I stood and turned to her, the motion made my head spin and my mid-section protest. The resulting pain gave my voice an edge. “So unless you come to offer the means to rescue Bishop Donnavan and his family, then you waste your time.”

  Cavendish stepped out from around the end of the pew. “Listen to what she says before you decide, Ash.”

  No. She would propose madness. And I had already experienced a lifetime of madness.

  “Ash…” the gnome said with a tone of warning. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss our benefactors. Don’t—” He froze, then hissed. “Don’t give me that look, either!”

  I turned to the elf. “Are you going to help me rescue the Donnavans?”

  “The affairs of a human family concern me not. We have more pressing matters before us.”

  Her words of such casual dismissal gave rise to an anger that wanted to lash out at anything and everything. Rather than give in, I took a deep, albeit painful, breath. After all, the Treyo Duthku had one goal. She would use her considerable power to try to force me to do her Mistress’ bidding.

  Ultimately, that meant it would be me, and no one else, who saved the Donnavans.

  I waved the elf away. “I have no interest in assisting your Mistress. You have far more power at your disposal. What can I, a mere human of so little consequence that you ignore my pleas for help, possibly offer? Our discussion is finished. I—”

  The elf grabbed my left arm with both of her hands. Warmth poured from her fingers, into my skin, into the muscle and bones, and through the shoulder. It touched the base of my brain, and the sanctuary seemed to rise into the air. She withheld the fullest effect of her magic to keep me from passing out and into the blessed nothingness. Still, I sank to my knees as the magic filled every part of my being with its raw, unearthly power.

  I smelled the wood stain on the pews. The ticking of the clock in Bishop Donnavan’s study pounded in my ears. The dampness of the air settled on the end of each hair on my arms and cooled them. A shiver moved through me.

  The elf leaned close enough for her breath, as cold as her words, to wash over me. “Do not question our Mistress, servant. Do not question her timing, for she understands when to strike and when to stay her hand.” Slowly, the warmth from her hands increased until it grew feverish. “Who are you to question her desires? You are correct in that you are but a mere human who dances to the whims of his masters.” The fever turned into a simmering fire that consumed my arms and legs. My back stiffened when the fire touched my neck. My insides danced on the edge of an explosion of pain.

  She could kill me if she desired…if her Mistress desired. For once, I didn’t care, though enough anger and sadness and general unconcern about the magical realm remained in me to say, “So your Mistress decided to do nothing when the Donnavans were captured? She knew I needed the power of an elixir, but she withheld her help because it fit neither her timing nor her needs?” The burning increased, still dancing on the edge of my brain, still stirring everything within.

  The elf’s grip tightened. “Do you desire death, Alexander Asherton? Do you long for its embrace?” The burning grew into an inferno that brought a veil of darkness over my eyes. “If you die, then who will rescue the woman you love? Who will rescue your religious leader?”

  Perhaps Schaever killed her as soon as she arrived at his home. Perhaps she already floated in one of his tanks in the storage room beneath his home.

  The pain kept me from speaking further. Only a whimper escaped.

  Cavendish’s angry voice cut through the roar of anguish in my head. “You were not sent to kill him!”

  The burning remained for a moment longer, then slowly subsided. It left me panting and sweating, unable to move.

  The elf peered at me with a look that spoke of her distaste. “The gnome is correct. Our Mistress sent me to offer you a chance to continue your miserable existence and to serve her in a most beneficial manner.” She released my arm. The shock of the separation sent another wave of darkness rattling through me. I slid to the floor.

  I would not be so easily cowed, though it took a moment to summon my voice. I spoke with a dry rasp. “Why have you not helped me? I delivered the Statue of Forneil, and I delivered Elizabeth Stewart to you. Yet…when I needed some small bit of assistance, you ignored me. You refused to even send Cavendish. You have done nothing to protect me from the bloodhunters and the Guardsmen. Of what use are the Elders?”

  She examined her nails as if she thought of nothing better to do to express her lack of concern. “You survived them all, did you not? The bloodhunters, the Guardsmen, the bounty hunters roaming the streets trying to pick up a trace of you…you survived them all by your own means. What need did you have for what our Mistress offers?”

  Though I no longer served The Misters, my new master exhibited the same persona. Like them, she enjoyed making me feel as small and as insignificant as possible. The attitudes and the insinuations, the endless games, and the vocal matches, grew more than tiresome.

  The elf offered no assistance as I slid onto the pew. “What can this mere pawn of two worlds do for you?”

  She gave a half-smile as she ran a hand along my arm, towards my shoulder and neck. “How simple it would be to make you my slave, to provide you with magic in exchange for your life, your body, your dreams, and your desires. I could make you want me and no one else.” She twirled a strand of hair in her fingers, playing with it in the same way Aimee once did. “I could be all you desire for the rest of your days.”

  The
thought of a constant magic high and never again needing an elixir turned my mouth drier. Though part of me longed for her to take me into her service, the part that shrank in fear asked, “What…do…you…want?”

  With lids half-closed and an air of seduction about her, she said, “To offer you a chance to serve. Do you find that enticing? I promise a new power, one to flow through your veins, giving you that feeling of invincibility.” She ran her hand down my chest, down my belly. “I offer you power, Alexander Asherton, one you have never experienced, one that few others know is even possible.”

  The longing for a new power filled me despite the desire to have nothing to do with the elf. To know the sense of bravado and the feeling of rebirth… Perhaps I could use the power to save the Donnavans. Perhaps… “What would you have me do? What is this new power?”

  Did I really ask? Do I truly want to know?

  Yes, of course I do.

  Strands of orange and black smoke drifted from her fingertips. “You are to reclaim an item of legend, one that disappeared from my world long ago.”

  “And you believe it is here? The Gateway was not opened until—”

  “The Gray Heart,” Cavendish said as he hopped from one foot to the other, unable to contain his excitement. “It really is here.”

  His words dampened any resolve to defy the elf. The gnome and his lady chased a rumor of the item’s location into this world just before Schaever captured her. She now floated in a tank, the subject of some strange experiment. Cavendish’s people blamed him for her disappearance and exiled him. He had been looking for Ravenlea and the Heart since that time. The former he found, but the location of the latter remained a mystery…until now?

  The elf continued, “Simply because the Gateway had not yet been opened, do not assume other portals between our worlds have not existed. Weak spots have always proven problematic. Places have opened where those strong enough in magic could push someone or something through. Only when your science matured sufficiently could it exploit such a rift.” She rolled her fingers, making the smoke dance, forming an image of circles within circles. “This object passed into your world long ago and disappeared.”

  I glanced at Cavendish. “Why are your masters interested in it now? Why not earlier?”

  She raised her brow again. “Who is to say we never stopped looking for it? But it has only just revealed itself, and so we are going to take it.”

  “Why me?” I asked as I folded my arms. “What possible advantage do I have in this matter? Why not send someone with more power?”

  “You know how to move about with discretion. You are a thief, and we require your expertise.”

  “You want me to steal the Gray Heart? From whom?”

  Cavendish answered before the elf could. “Duke Schaever.”

  Of course. The man most likely to kill me.

  Yet the man who could lead me to the Donnavans.

  By serving the Elders, perhaps I could do something more meaningful – save a good family. But…would Reginald Schaever not have the Heart locked away in the most protected vault in two worlds? Guardsmen, orcs, lizards, dragons, magic spells, enchantments, traps…he would use them all.

  When I said as much, the elf replied, “It is in the possession of Duke Schaever and needs to be recovered. And soon. That is your only concern.”

  “So get Sheriam-sheloe to do your bidding.” I used the name given to Sheela while she lived in the magical realm. “Remember the lady who is so loyal to you that she refused me?” Bitterness filled my voice. “The lady who denied her love to serve you? The one who showed me what she truly felt in regard to my person?”

  The elf touched her chin with a single finger. “And who refused to listen when I warned him as such? Who tested her love by placing both her life and his own in danger?”

  Me. And only me. And I would do it again under similar circumstances. I would willingly put her love to the test for the right reasons.

  “So why not go to her? She is in a better position in Schaever’s home.” Before I asked another question, shadows passed over the elf’s face and provided all the answer I needed. “She is out of your reach. What has Schaever done to her?”

  Was I the culprit?

  “A temporary set-back our Mistress will deal with at the appropriate time. Let not Sheriam-sheloe distract you. The situation will be resolved as it should be.” She held her hand out again. “As for you, the Gray Heart is your only concern.”

  “If you desire a gray heart, then why not rip mine out? It has grown so cold that it is probably the color of a stone.”

  “Indeed,” the elf said without a hint of humor. “So cold that you risk your very life for those you love.”

  She made a good point. “My foolish acts will be my end.”

  “Why do you believe love is foolish? It is one of the few emotions that serves a higher, nobler purpose.” Her tone of chastisement sounded like a schoolmistress speaking to her naughty students. “Love is what makes us capable of doing so much in our worlds. At its purest, love is unselfish and humble and sacrificial. We should embrace and appreciate it. I would not so quickly dismiss its power.”

  “Its power has almost killed me on more than one occasion, lady.” The conversation suddenly grew tiresome. “You have never struck me as one to appreciate such a weakness.” What else could it be called?

  “Love is something both of our worlds share.” She folded her hands together. “Love transcends language, race, and portals. Only fools dare to question its importance.”

  In an attempt to change the subject I asked, “If Schaever has the Heart, why do you believe I have a chance to steal it? I’m assuming it is the best-guarded object in the world.” Well…outside of Lady Elizabeth’s mortal body.

  Unfortunately, the elf felt the need to continue her philosophical contemplations. “Without love, we are mere shells of beings. Without love, we are left to our own devices and would end up cursed for all of eternity.” She wiped at her eyes as if she cried. “We owe love much, yet we abuse it most of all, place the most conditions upon it, and seek to rule every aspect of its nature. We make it as dark as our natures, all because it is so beautiful to behold and so moving an experience.”

  She wiped her eyes again, as if she missed someone of great importance. After the ensuing silence grew to an uncomfortable length, I asked, “Why do you think I can steal the Heart from Schaever?”

  My dismissal of her feelings must have cut deeply, for she stood straight and spoke with a harsh tone. “I offer hope and a chance to live. What else matters? Are you so indifferent to life that you will not consider the feelings of others?”

  The seriousness in her voice stopped me from laughing. “You are not capable of feelings, so stop testing my resolve. You are trying to trap me into guilt or some other form of emotion, which you will then use to your advantage.” She employed the tactics of The Misters, only they used fear and pride and humiliation exclusively. “This is a business proposal. I will keep it as such and remind you to do the same.”

  The tears ended almost at once. “Humans are fascinating creatures. You are always so unpredictable, yet so understandable.” She held her hand out again. “I offer you the chance many people desire, yet only two others have ever dared. I offer the power no human could ever concoct, that no artificial combination of powers could begin to create. I offer a unique opportunity, Alexander Asherton.”

  For the third time I asked, “Why do you believe I can steal one of the most powerful magical items from under the nose of a man such as Reginald Schaever? This is the same man who spent decades planning his revenge on those who killed Elizabeth.”

  The elf gave me a steady gaze. “We have taken measures to make the Heart vulnerable.”

  I scoffed and looked at Cavendish. “A legendary item that is desired by every creature in your world. And you expect me to believe that Schaever has not locked it in a vault guarded by every monster imaginable, not to mention putting every spell on it
that he could possibly invent?” I folded my arms. “Pardon me if I sound a little skeptical.”

  The elf said, “Then let me assure you that we have taken measures to give us the opportunity to take the item.”

  Schaever would not keep it locked away or use it against his enemies for only one reason. “He doesn’t know what it is.” Though I said the words, I could not believe that Schaever could be so blind to such an item. He associated with so many magical creatures. One of them would have recognized it.

  Cavendish nodded as he walked towards me. “That is correct, Ash.” Doubt must have been reflected on my face because he frowned and added, “We do have friends within the Duke’s trusted circle. They have assured the man that he has a counterfeit magic item, but we believe it is real. It provides the perfect trap to expose our side. After your disruption of his plans at Chen’s Theatre, he has become more determined to put an end to his enemies in Campden.”

  I stared first at him and then at the elf. I tried to make sense of what he implied. The canon’s voice usually provided clarity in such situations, but it remained silent. Finally, I had to say it aloud to make sure I understood and that it sounded as insane as I believed. “Let me get this straight. Schaever has the Gray Heart, but thinks it is a counterfeit, but believes we think it is real, therefore he has willingly made it easy for us to steal, but has really set a trap to either capture or kill us. Well…to capture or kill me.”

  The Treyo Duthku said, “We know all the details of the trap, so it is not a trap.”

  The thought of willingly walking into a trap simply because I knew it was a trap, without calling it a trap, made my head ache even more than earlier. “What a terrible idea! What makes you think I can walk into and out of wherever it is I am supposed to go unharmed? The bloodhunters will catch me long before I get there.”

  The elf leaned forward, with her palm leading the way. “Have you ever imagined what it would be like to be someone else? To see life as they see it, to know their experiences and joys, their sorrows and regrets?”