by Keri Arthur
Most kin believed in Dhrukita, even though not all of us would ever experience it. It was a belief that certain souls were destined to meet every rebirth—sometimes as antagonists, sometimes as lovers. It was a belief I’d never really subscribed to, and yet, as I looked into this man's eyes, I couldn't help but feel the deep tug of something that transcended time and emotion. Something that was meant to be.
Something that had been in the past.
It was both scary and exhilarating. Tempting and yet daunting. I didn't really know this man and might not even survive to explore this link that seemed to lie between us.
But I wanted to. Needed to. Even if something within suggested Túxn would not be that generous.
I pulled my hand from under his and stepped away. Saw the understanding in his eyes as well as the determination. No matter what Túxn's plans for us might be, Kaiden had his own—and he would not give them up easily.
“I'll blast the gate when you're close enough,” he said softly. “Don't run in a straight line.”
“Don't miss that gate.”
His smile failed to lift the concern. I spun and walked away—from him, and from that unspoken something between us. I had a sister to rescue and a homeland to free, and both were far more important than dwelling on things that might never be.
The heat of the fire consuming the mover caressed my skin but did little to melt the ice forming in the pit of my stomach. I pushed back the flames and smoke, then squeezed through the gap between mover and mountain, doing my best to avoid the worst of the rocks but nevertheless scraping skin. Once the gap widened, I took a deep breath, then gathered the flames to me, formed them into a gigantic ball, and launched it at the checkpoint.
Then I ran. As hard and as fast as I could.
The ground was littered with vehicle and rock remains, forcing me to keep an eye on where I was going rather than the fireball. But I didn't need to see it to know where it was—I could track its position through the growing distance of its heat.
Something hit the ground near my feet, spraying dirt into the air. I swore and began to weave, even as the uselessness of the plan hit me. I was too open out here, too exposed, and far too slow. I might be long and lean, but speed was not my forte...
I cut the thought off. That path could only lead to despair—an emotion I couldn't afford to cultivate.
The sprays of dirt grew more numerous. I had no idea if Kaiden was returning fire—all I could hear was the pounding of blood in my ears and the soft ping of bullets all around me.
The fireball reached the wall. I looked up, splayed my fingers wide, and directed the flames left and right. Two Mareritt were hit, and another three ran. I stumbled over a rock and flailed for balance, only to crash to my knees with bruising force. Swore, then pushed upright and ran on. The fire I'd borrowed held none of the heat of my own flames, and the two Mareritt continued to burn, their agony lingering in the air even if I couldn't hear their screams.
But those who'd fled had now reappeared, and bullets once again churned the ground all around me. Whether they hit or not, I couldn't say; I felt no pain and my movements weren't curtailed, but that may have been nothing more than adrenaline and desperation.
And there was still too much distance between that wall and me.
One of the Mareritt went down. Two others took his place. Something hit my thigh and I stumbled again, my fingers brushing the ground as I fought to keep going. Desperation surged anew, as did the fire in my blood. If I wanted to survive, I had to unleash and risk depletion.
Am here. Will help.
The voice cut through my thoughts like a sunbeam through rain, and hope surged. Oma?
Yes. Mareritt will burn. For you. For me.
She dropped through the clouds and swooped toward the checkpoint, her scales gleaming like bloody diamonds in the morning sunshine.
I ran after her. The Mareritt were still firing, but Oma was now positioned between them and me, and most of their shots went wide. They weren't willing to hit her, and that meant they hadn't yet noticed she wasn’t wearing the band and was no longer in Mareritt control.
She neared the wall, swooped upward, and then unleashed her fire. It cindered those on the wall in an instant. With a flick of her fully healed wings, she soared over the wall and sprayed flames into the courtyard.
Silver screamed past me, and a heartbeat later, the gate blew apart. I plowed past its ruins and ran into the tunnel, ignoring the smoke, the fire, and the stench of burning flesh. A Mareritt stumbled out of a doorway ahead, coughing and wheezing. Fire flared across my fingertips, and I flicked them toward him. He went up like a torch, his scream barely leaving his lips. I jagged around him and pounded on toward the courtyard. Oma hovered in the center of the open space, fingers of fire licking her nostrils as she waited for more targets.
No Mareritt left, she said, disappointment evident.
They may be hiding. Can you keep watch?
Yes.
I pushed flames to my fingertips and checked each room. We were alone in this place.
Relief hit so hard and fast that for several seconds, it was all I could do to remain upright. I bent over, my hands pressed against my knees, sucking in air as my body began to shake. Which was ridiculous. This wasn't my first firefight, and it certainly wasn't the first time death had come so close. But it was, perhaps, the first time I really understood just how much I stood to lose.
Once my breathing had calmed and the shaking eased, I pushed upright and walked across to Oma. She landed softly and tucked her wings close, her dark eyes shining and happiness heavy in her thoughts.
Mareritt burn good.
A smile tugged at my lips. They do. Thanks for the rescue, Oma.
Owed you, she said. Help more, if wish.
We could use the help, but the decision is yours to make.
Then I help.
She ducked her head toward me. I scratched her eye ridge, and she closed her eyes, a soft hum of contentment running through her thoughts. Emri had been similarly blissed out by a good eye rub.
Who Emri? Oma asked.
My bonded drakkon.
What bonded?
I hesitated, searching for the right words to describe a state of being that had been mine since puberty. It’s an emotional and psychological link between a kin and her drakkon.
So we bond?
There was a hint of wistfulness in that question, and I couldn’t help smiling. Bonding wasn’t something that happened just because you desired it, but I wasn’t about to tell Oma that. I had no desire to hurt her. Yes, we can bond.
Where Emri?
I don’t know—we got separated.
You go find?
Yes. Find and rescue, if Túxn was willing. Could you wait here while I get Kaiden?
Who Kaiden?
Oma, I began to suspect, wasn’t particularly old in drakkon terms, as it was usually only those in the tween years between drakkling and full adulthood who asked so many questions. Which also meant she was still growing—and might possibly end up bigger than the Mareritt would have wished. It was also perhaps why she’d so quickly shaken loose the effects of the Mareritt control band.
He’s the man who helped me repair your wing.
Wing he shot.
There was a rumble of annoyance in her mental tones but no true anger. In terms of grievances, Kaiden’s actions were way down the ladder compared to the Mareritt.
He's lost many to fire, Oma. Which was not something he'd ever said, but surely a truth many in this age could claim. He didn't know the drakkon had no control over their actions.
She considered this for a moment, then said, You fetch. I watch.
I spun and limped back through the gates. Kaiden limped toward the checkpoint, the rifles and sleeping rolls slung over his shoulders. His pants leg was wet with blood; he was losing too much of it. We needed to remove the dagger and heal that wound or he’d die.
I hobbled quickly toward him, grabbed the sleepi
ng rolls and one of the rifles, and then wrapped an arm around his waist in an effort to take at least some of the weight off his injured leg. But by the time we reached the courtyard, his sweat stung the air and tremors racked his body.
“First aid,” he said, his voice little more than a husk, “to the right.”
I guided him that way and, a second later, saw the green sign bearing a white heart—the emblem for a first aid facility. The room itself wasn’t large, but it had a number of storage units and a hospital bed over which hung some sort of complicated-looking medical machine. To one side of this stood a control screen.
I helped him onto the bed. His skin was pale and his eyes little more than narrow aqua slits. “What do I need to do?”
“I’ll do it. You go outside, prepare a vehicle, and find supplies.”
I frowned. “You’re not going to be in a fit state to go anywhere—”
“For four hours,” he cut in. “The Mareritt have a history of spending the long nights of their winter advancing their technology, and this machine is designed to do the work of most surgeons.”
“Which forces me to point out that Mareritt physiology is different to ours.”
“Not as much as many think, but I’ll be focusing mainly on my leg, so it won’t matter,” he said. “The good thing about these machines is they don’t require fingerprints to activate.”
“I take it you’re speaking from experience?”
He nodded. “There’ll be additional medical supplies in the larger cabinet—treat your wounds before you head out.”
He pressed the control screen; as it came to life, I headed across to the cabinet and opened the door. It was full of bandages, sprays, and other medical stuff, much of which was totally alien to me. But after a few seconds of studying them, I spotted what looked to be antiseptic and sealing spray. I stripped off, then grabbed some swabs and began cleaning and sealing the scrapes and cuts I could reach. There were certainly plenty of them, and every single one stung like blazes, especially the deeper scrapes across my breasts. The wound on my thigh wasn’t as bad as it looked or felt—the bullet had simply scoured a deep trench through the fleshy outer layers but hadn’t hit anything vital in the process. Once I’d patched and sealed it, I grabbed a towel, hung it over the door, and then poured the antiseptic over my shoulder and down my spine. Then I pressed back against the towel to pad it dry and sealed those wounds as best I could.
I redressed and moved back to Kaiden. A cannula had been inserted into his arm, and he was now pressing a number of buttons on the screen. Fluid flowed down the line from the machine to his arm.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Yes—go.” His attention was more on what he was doing than me. “I’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t so sure of that, given the amount of blood he’d already lost, but there was no point arguing. Right now, repairing the wound to ensure he didn’t lose any more and then getting the hell out of here remained our best option.
I headed out. Oma, could you fly over the first checkpoint? We need to know what’s happening there and how close the Mareritt force is. But keep high so they don’t see you.
No flaming?
Not yet. It’s better if they don’t know you’re helping us.
Sneaky. I like.
With that, she hunkered down and then jumped high into the air, her wings a golden blur as she attempted to gain height. Dust swirled around me, a thick cloud filled with the ashy remains of the Mareritt. I dragged the collar of my undershirt over my nose and watched her slowly rise. Once she’d disappeared into the clouds, I headed over to the machine shed. It was a replica of the one we’d raided in the first checkpoint—the only thing that was missing was the tank. Unfortunately, while there was a mover here, in cindering the Mareritt we’d also—thanks to its position close to the doors—destroyed any hope we had of using it. I walked across to one of the scoots and crossed mental fingers as I pressed the opening lever. It responded, and relief stirred. While it didn’t offer anything in the way of protection, it did at least give us speed; right now that was probably the most important thing. Besides, it wasn’t as if the mover had proven very effective against tank shells.
I climbed in, hit the start button, and took several minutes to familiarize myself with the various screens and buttons. It wasn’t all that different to the scooters I’d occasionally used in Zephrine—just a more modern version, basically—so I was able to maneuver the scoot out of the shed without damaging it.
When it was safely parked again, I started the search for food and clothes. I found Mareritt uniforms in the armory, but they weren’t of any practical use—especially if we were forced into another town. I collected rifles, a couple of hand-cannons, and ammo for both, and carted them across to the scooter. Once it was all securely stashed, I moved on to the next building. It was a washhouse filled with tubs and drying racks, the latter half-filled with various clothing bits and pieces. I walked across to the nearest shirt and sniffed it warily. A faint, almost rotten egg aroma lingered on the material, but it smelled a whole lot cleaner and fresher than the Mareritt usually did. I stripped off the torn and bloody remnants of my clothes, then tugged a brown woolen shirt over my undershirt and slipped into a pair of trousers that were made of some sort of soft skin. I grabbed a belt to keep them up and then tucked my knife into the back of it.
Once I’d found clothing big enough to fit Kaiden, I continued on, this time looking for the mess and kitchen. I found them two buildings down from the med center and made my way through the half-dozen tables to the kitchen at the rear. It wasn’t surprising to find their larder filled with newly butchered meats—most of which was hart meat, if the stack of antlers sitting in a box near the door was anything to go by. Fresh meat wasn’t practical to carry, however, so I settled for flatbreads, hard cheese, and a mix of nuts and dried fruits. Once I’d found a rucksack to carry it all in, I walked across to the med center to keep an eye on Kaiden. He was totally out of it, but the machine was in automatic mode and tended to him with precision. It was pretty damn impressive to watch—I doubted a surgeon could have done any better.
The hours passed slowly. Once the wound was sealed and bandaged, the machine beeped, and a message flashed on the screen, indicating it was now safe to remove the cannula. When Kaiden didn’t respond, I carefully removed it for him, dumped the needle and line into a tray, and then pressed the healing pad the machine offered via a slide-out tray against his skin and secured it.
It was a few minutes before he came to. He blinked, his expression a little confused and his pupils wider than normal. “Nara?”
“Yes.” I touched his arm lightly. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been bowled over by a longhorn.” He scrubbed a hand across his face, scraping whiskers. “How long did it take?”
“Closest reckoning? About five hours.”
He grunted and pushed upright. Pain flared through his expression, but I suspected it came from the multiple minor wounds and scrapes that hadn’t yet been treated. “We need to go.”
“You’re not going anywhere, warrior, until I treat the rest of your wounds.”
He gave me a look—the type that suggested I was being ridiculous. “We’ve wasted enough time. We can’t afford—”
“Oma is keeping an eye on the Mareritt and will report back when they hit the other checkpoint,” I said. “What we can’t afford is you becoming ill—or even worse, dropping dead—because of an infection taking hold. I need to rescue Sorrel and whatever remains of the graces, and I need your help to do that. So shut up and just let me get on with it.”
His eyebrows rose and a smile teased his lips. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Only when I’m faced with male stubbornness.” I walked over to the medical cabinet and collected wash pads, antiseptics, and sealers.
He chuckled softly. “Shame. I quite like it.”
“So bossy women are your thing?” I dumped the items onto the be
d beside him, squirted the antiseptic onto one of the pads, and then motioned him to remove his shirt. His broad back was littered with cuts, and I had a suspicion most of them had been caused when he’d thrown himself on top of me.
“Generally, no. I think it’s more a sum of all things when it comes to my attraction to you.”
“Or simply a matter of proximity.”
“We both know it’s more than that.”
It was, but I wasn’t ready to verbally acknowledge that just yet. Not until I knew more about what had happened and how I’d gotten here. Not until I’d remembered what I couldn’t and was absolutely sure the ice in my mind wasn’t a danger to anyone. And certainly not until I’d freed all those still trapped.
If any of that was even possible.
I dressed his wounds, then offered him the clean clothes I’d found and headed out while he changed. Oma reappeared as I walked toward the scooter, doing a low sweep around the courtyard before coming to roost on top of the wall.
Mareritt at checkpoint. They work to get through gate. Kill now?
I raised my eyebrows. While it was not unusual for drakkons to have a bloody bent, Oma was decidedly more eager to kill than most. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was merely the need for revenge on those who’d kept her captive for so long, or more ingrained than that. Perhaps in reducing their size, the Mareritt had heightened their violent tendencies. And while Oma was no threat to me personally, I couldn’t help but wonder if the older drakkons would be less mannered and far more savage. If the Mareritt had been breeding drakkons from stolen eggs for centuries more than the two that had passed since my time, it was certainly possible.
“No. We need your flames to destroy the final checkpoint.”
I go eat. Call when need.
“Avoid Mareritt-patrolled areas, Oma. They’ll try to kill you once they realize you’re free.”
They try, I kill.
But they have many guns.
