Metal Dragon (Warriors of Galatea Book 2)

by Lauren Esker

  The wide space at the center of the circle of huts looked big enough to land in. Lyr folded his wings and dropped the last couple of body-lengths to the ground, shifting as he went and bending his knees to take the impact.

  Just in time, too. A crude homemade spear sailed through the space his larger dragon body had just occupied, swishing over his head.

  "Really?" Lyr said. He put up a shield, although the handful of visible onlookers peeking out from doorways and from behind trees now looked more startled than hostile. "That's the thanks I get for saving you people?"

  "It's you!" A young green-skinned Kvarian woman ran out of one of the huts. Lyr recognized her as the one Meri had seemed close to on the ship, though he couldn't recall her name. "You're all right!"

  "It's me," he acknowledged, taking a quick step back just in case she was thinking about hugging him. Reluctantly he let the shield drop, as there seemed to be no danger at the moment.

  ... except from spontaneous hugs, because now a small crowd of the escaped prisoners were gathering around him with tearful thanks. Lyr fended them off, resisting the urge to stun anyone.

  "We all made it through the landing just fine, just a few injuries, nobody badly hurt," the Kvarian woman exclaimed. "What about the rest of you? Meri—is she okay?"

  "She's fine. We came down on the other side of the mountains."

  "You're a dragon!" someone else said.

  "Yes, I'm a dragon, thank you for pointing that out. How did you think I managed to take on an entire ship full of pirates almost singlehandedly?"

  The mention of the pirates was like a bucket of cold water dumped on the party atmosphere around him.

  "We saw a ship enter the atmosphere last night," one of the men said. "We hoped it was you."

  "No. It was not." He glanced around the now much more sober group. "Have any of you seen signs of other people around?"

  "No, but it's got to be either pirates or the Galateans," another of the men said. He touched his throat, where the silver slave collar gleamed. Either way it's bad news for us—he didn't have to say it.

  "My friend has a collar controller," Lyr said. "He can take them off."

  This caused a stir to ripple through the escaped slaves. "If your friend is a Galatean citizen, very likely he won't want to take them off."

  "You are underestimating him." Lyr held up his hands, displaying the silver cuffs, not gold like a citizen would wear. "I was once a slave like you. He took mine off."

  A dark-skinned woman with her throat unmarked by a collar pushed to the front of the group. "We don't all belong here," she protested. "Not all of us were slaves before the pirates took us. I just want to go home."

  "I'll try to arrange that," Lyr promised. "If I can."

  "And why should we believe you?" someone else asked.

  "I swear it on my honor."

  "And what's that worth?"

  "Everything," Lyr said grimly. "If you know anything of my people, you wouldn't ask that question. Once I've given my word, I will keep it. I will see you safely back to the worlds you wish to go to, or protect you here, should you wish it."

  He could almost have laughed at himself. He'd never meant to get tangled up like this again. Now here he was, not just with Meri to worry about, but an entire village of people that he'd suddenly gone and made himself responsible for.

  They still seemed unsure, but after some hesitation, one of the men asked, "Would you like to stay and eat with us? We can't offer you much, but there's fish in the lake and we're learning to find edible plants in the woods."

  Lyr shook his head. "Your hospitality is appreciated, but I can hunt for myself. And I need to get back. I promised I wouldn't be gone long. I'll return soon and remove your collars."

  With that, he shifted back to his dragon form and spread his wings. The assembled group fell back, but there was more wonder than fear this time in the way they looked at him.

  He couldn't help thinking, as he rose into the air with a powerful downbeat, how beautiful it was here with the lake glittering in the sun and the snow-capped mountains rising beyond it. They could have come down in much worse places. There was the lake for water and for fishing; there was fertile soil and timber. It would be entirely possible to establish a village here. A permanent one, perhaps ... a haven for escaped slaves from across the galaxy, like the vision he'd shown Meri but on a grander scale.

  It wasn't a plan. It was barely even an idea yet. There were so many variables, not the least being that an entire fleet of Galatean ships could already be in orbit around the planet.

  But ... as he circled above the collection of crude huts, and a few people waved to him, he thought it was something he'd like to try to make happen.

  He ought to head straight for the mountains; his wings ached and he was already tired. But rather than flying back immediately, he flew in a wide sweeping arc across the forest. The idea of checking for pirates lurked in the back of his mind, but there was something else he wanted to find first.

  —and, aha, there it was: a small herd of medium-sized lizards, about the size of Tamir in his tiger-shifted form, browsing on grass at the water's edge. He'd figured a lake like this would attract wildlife.

  They never saw him coming. He swooped in and broke his target's neck, then picked it up in his claws and flew with heavy wingbeats across the lake to the village. Moments later, having dropped off his offering, he made for the mountains without staying to hear their thanks.

  After all, it was easy for him to hunt, and much harder for them.

  He was starting to regret going quite this far on his first flight since being injured, in atmosphere no less. His wings ached and his shoulder hurt. When he got back to the campsite, he was going to eat two of those ration packs, or maybe a nice fat lizard if he still had the energy to catch one, and collapse into sleep for a while.

  But still, it was glorious flying under these brilliant blue skies, with the arch of the planet's rings spanning the horizon. And he was looking forward to getting ...

  ... home?

  Yes. Yes, it did feel like home. It was a crude campsite in the middle of nowhere, but it was the first place he'd wanted to go back to in longer than he could remember.

  Because Meri was there.

  He smiled, in his dragon form, at the thought of Meri by the campfire, her skin glowing in the firelight, her eyes soft and warm with her affection for him. Maybe he wouldn't fall asleep immediately. Maybe he would undress her there by the fire, take her apart gently again and again, with the sounds of the forest around them, and hum lullabies until she fell asleep ...

  Mind occupied with pleasant thoughts, he swept through the pass between the mountain peaks and came out the other side. He had no expectation of danger. The only creatures nearby that could harm him in the air were those huge fliers he'd seen out over the ocean, and they were easily visible from a long way off.

  So the attack came out of nowhere, without warning.

  There was a stab of searing pain, and suddenly his wings weren't working. He went into a tailspin, sky and mountains and ground all whirling around each other in a jumble of confused images.

  *Meri!* he cried, reaching out with his mind in an instinctive cry for help as he went tumbling down into darkness.

  18

  ___

  “L

  YR!"

  Until Lyr's distress blazed through her mind, Meri had been sitting by the firepit, cutting up a blanket with the scissors from her keychain utility knife in the hopes of making clothing out of it. She was no seamstress; her experience with a sewing machine was limited to a high school home-ec class and a few attempts to save money by repairing her own socks and hemming too-long jeans, which hadn't gone so well. Still, she figured that even if her attempts came out looking like potato sacks, it would be better than going around naked while they washed their regular clothes.

  Tamir was working on what he'd told her was a fish trap, made from supple tree branches woven together. As fa
r as she could tell, he was about as good at making fish traps from branches as she was at making clothing out of blankets. They seemed to have arrived at a mutual, unspoken agreement not to point out the numerous flaws in the item taking shape in the other person's lap.

  Meri was just realizing that she hadn't thought ahead to sewing without a needle and thread (could she tie the pieces together, maybe?) when Lyr's sudden alarm went off like a bomb inside her head.

  She doubled over, crying out and clutching her temples. Dimly she was aware of Tamir saying her name in surprise and worry, but she had no thoughts for anything but Lyr.

  There was pain, an awful sensation of falling, and then—nothing.

  "Lyr!"

  "What's wrong? What is it?" Tamir was kneeling beside her now, his hands on her shoulders.

  "I ... I don't know. Lyr!" She looked up at the treetops, as if crying out his name would bring the welcome appearance of his long-winged shape skimming over their campsite. But he was too far away for that. She didn't know how far he was, only that it was far enough his mind could barely brush her own.

  And now he was gone. When she tried to reach for him, in that strange mental way she was only gradually learning to use, she could find nothing—no sense of Lyr's mind reaching back for hers. It was like he'd vanished.

  Or died ... but no, no, she wouldn't even think it.

  "What happened?" Tamir's voice was steady, the pressure of his hands secure but gentle as he knelt next to her, a solid and calming presence. She had often calmed a skittish patient in the same way.

  "I felt him in my mind, as if he called out to me. Something was wrong. I think he fell. He might have been hurt." She looked up at the sky again. "And then there was nothing. Tamir, do you think he could have strained himself, lost his ability to stay in the air ..."

  She trailed off, because she'd remembered something else. The feeling of falling hadn't been the only thing that had come into her head with Lyr's jumbled sensory impressions. He'd been angry.

  And there was more pain than just the strain of overstressed wings.

  "Tamir, he was shot! That's why he fell. Someone shot him."

  Tamir's catlike eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

  "I—I think so." It was so hard to be sure. The impressions she'd gotten from Lyr's mind were already fading.

  "Where is he? Could you tell?"

  "In the mountains somewhere, I think." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to bring back those brief memory-flashes before they faded into haziness, like a dream upon waking. "I saw the ocean. I think he was on our side of the mountains." Her eyes snapped open. "I saw something green, I think. A green flash. Like those weapons you and Lyr use."

  Tamir rose swiftly to his feet. He stood looking up at what could be seen of the tops of the peaks through the trees—which wasn't much, down in the valley as they were. Then he turned and began kicking dirt over the fire and scattering the tidy pile of firewood.

  "I suggest we move everything we've been using to the bridge. It's more defensible, and it gives us a second line of defense in case they get inside the cargo hold. Also, it means if anyone gets inside, it won't be immediately obvious that someone's been living here."

  "What about Lyr?" Meri protested as she bundled up blankets and ration packs, helping him carry them through the derelict ship.

  "I haven't forgotten him. I'll be leaving shortly. But I'm going to have to leave you unguarded. I need you barricaded on the bridge—"

  "Okay, no," Meri said flatly. "If you're going after Lyr, I'm coming with you."

  Tamir dropped an armload of blankets between the seats on the bridge. "Meri, I hate to be blunt, but you are not a trained fighter. And I can move faster without—"

  "Can you?" she interrupted, with a sharply critical look at the way he was still limping. "And what if you get hurt even worse up there? What if Lyr's hurt?"

  "Your skills would be useful, but Lyr tasked me with keeping you safe. I gave him my word."

  "What about keeping him safe? What if you need a second person for a two-person rescue plan, and don't have me?"

  "I cannot put you in danger—"

  "Okay, fine, so what's your brilliant plan for finding him? Are you going to search the entire mountain? I might be able to get in touch with him mentally and lead you there."

  Tamir rubbed at his temple. "Meri—"

  "And anyway," she forged onward, "if you leave me behind, I'll just follow. I am not sitting here all day in this stupid ship, waiting for pirates to show up, while you go running off on a rescue mission."

  "I am starting to see," Tamir said with a slight grin, "how it is that you're able to handle our stubborn dragon prince. Very well. We will go on a rescue mission together. We will need supplies in case we're not back by tonight."

  He worked quickly, making two piles of blankets and ration packs. They had no canteens, so Tamir filled some of the empty ration packs with water. As he handed her each item, she stuffed it into her purse until it was full to bursting.

  "I don't suppose you have any weapons in there," Tamir said.

  "Just this." She showed him the multitool with the scissors attachment. She flicked out the tiny knife blade. It was maybe two inches long, already dull from how much she'd used it on this trip.

  "I think," Tamir said, looking at it, "that you'd best leave the fighting to me."

  "Can't you give me any weapons at all?"

  "Hmm." With his own blanket-wrapped bundle slung over his shoulder, he shoved open the airlock door and took a quick look around the remains of their campsite. "Do you have any fighting experience at all? Staffs? Unarmed combat?"

  "Aaron once showed me how to break a grapple hold."

  Tamir looked politely baffled at this.

  "Aaron is my late husband," she explained, and felt only a slight stab, not the heartbreak she'd automatically braced herself for. Her mind was too caught in up Find Lyr, find Lyr, find Lyr! "He showed me a few self-defense tricks." In the interests of honesty, she admitted, "I don't know if I can remember any of them now."

  "How about a club?" he asked, hefting a solid-looking stick from their scattered firewood.

  Meri gripped it and felt its weight, giving it an experimental swing. She thought about slamming it into the face of whoever had hurt Lyr. "I think a club sounds great."

  Tamir smiled and turned to haul the door shut. He used his foot to scatter the fire's cooling ashes and kicked some more dirt over them. There was no disguising the stumps of the trees Lyr had cut, but those might be mistaken for damage from the ship's crash landing. It was amazing, Meri thought, how their tidy little campsite had been made to look as if no one had been here, as if no one at all had survived the crash.

  "Are you ready?" Tamir asked, shouldering his bundle.

  Meri slung the purse across her body and gripped her club. "Ready."

  ***

  Lyr came gradually awake with a splitting headache to go with a whole assortment of other aches and pains.

  This is a stun headache, he thought muzzily as his brain began to struggle back to consciousness. Someone had stunned him. Which meant ...

  Which meant he had been attacked with Galatean-style weapons.

  And that meant either pirates or Galateans. There had been no warning or attempted contact, so probably pirates.

  He kept his eyes closed with an effort. He could hear movement nearby and smelled traces of woodsmoke. His cheek was resting on dirt, and when he gave a slight, experimental twitch, he felt the tug of bonds. His hands were tied behind his back.

  Hands ...? Ah, so he'd shifted back. His people sometimes did that instinctively when injured or unconscious, because it took much less energy to maintain and heal their smaller forms.

  Lyr fought down a smile. Let's see how you people like dealing with an angry dragon when I shift again. You're certainly in for a surprise.

  He reached out tentatively for the energy of his shift, and found it coming to him with odd sluggishness. That was s
trange. It was almost as if—

  Shock, horror and outrage rushed through him with the force of a whirlwind, and his eyes came open, his lips drawing back from his teeth. He had not felt, at first, the cool weight of the collar against his neck; he had worn one for so long that he'd stopped noticing it. But now that he struggled to reach for the shifted shape he'd once more come to take for granted, he was all too cruelly aware of it.

  And they had taken his cuffs. His wrists felt naked. That was a small indignity, however, next to the greater one.

  "Ah, so you're awake," a harsh voice said. "Welcome back."

  Lyr blinked. He was lying on his side. Brilliant sun filtered down through foliage, so he hadn't been out for long, unless a full day and night had passed, but a stun didn't usually last that long. Through blurred vision—the stun hangover was hitting him hard—he glimpsed hazy figures moving around a campfire. At least a half dozen pirates, he thought. Not good.

  A shadow fell across him and rough hands pulled him into a sitting position. Lyr bit back his outrage (and, underneath it, icy fear) with a lifetime's practice and tried to look woozy and hurt. It wasn't hard. He now recognized the way that the collar was damping down his body's natural energy, making him slow to heal and even interfering with his ability to think clearly.

  The human-derived Galateans, who had developed the collars, didn't have that problem. But Lyr, a creature made partly of the raw energy of stars, had always felt like the collar did more than just suppress his ability to shift. It crushed his dragon half, turning him to a shadow of what he normally was.

  How had he lived like this for so many years? Panic rose into his throat, threatening to choke him. He fought to keep his expression flat. He would get the collar off. If they'd put it on him, they must have at least one controller in this campsite; all he had to do was get his hands on it. If not, Tamir had one.

  Anyway, even collared, he was far from helpless. Lyr flexed his hands, and felt, as he did so, that he wasn't tied with rope but with some kind of wire. If he struggled too hard, he might cut his own hands off. But even so, he had weapons—the blades in his arms, the spines, his natural size and strength.