by Leslie Chase
Unlike the Imperial Palace, this one didn't seem to have an entrance at ground level. It was built for dragons, after all, and who would have thought that they would need to enter on foot?
What of the servants? Markath asked himself. Perhaps, though, they hadn't had any servants. Whoever had owned this place had been rich and powerful, but not every nobleman wanted flunkies at their private retreats. Markath found himself going through the list of noble dragons who'd been on Mars when the Empire fell. It wasn't a long list, but he hadn't known any of them personally. It didn't matter, anyway.
If there was a way in, it wasn't visible from the outside.
Following the featureless black surface around, he kept his eyes out for any sign of a door. It seemed hopeless, though. Between the fog and his wounds, his focus kept slipping, and his mind went to Amanda, trapped outside with the humans. Humans who seemed perfectly willing to kill their own for a bigger share of profit, which didn't speak well for her survival.
Stopping and leaning against the wall, he bit down on the rage that burned within him. The fury of a dragon was a terrible thing, and he couldn't afford to allow it to overwhelm him. Not here and now — if he did, he'd lose all control and throw himself at the nearest enemy. Which would do nothing to save his Amanda, and she was all that mattered.
I have to stay calm and find a way out of here. Anything else and I will have failed her.
He pushed himself away from the wall, leaving a bloody hand print behind. Around the corner of the building, he saw something that gave him hope. One of the nearby towers had collapsed against the black palace, and the ruins reached nearly to a balcony that protruded high above the ground. Markath hauled himself up the mound of rubble, feeling it shift under his weight, and leaped up to grab hold of the slick black crystal.
With a heave, he pulled himself onto the balcony, only to come face to face with a snarling creature. Smaller than the monsters he'd fought earlier, this animal nonetheless hissed at him through razor sharp teeth mere inches from his face.
It was perhaps four feet long, with iridescent wings spread wide in a threatening display. Something like a small bear with wings, it looked completely unafraid of the dragon warrior pulling himself up into its territory.
Growling back at the creature, Markath pulled back his lips to bare his own teeth. The winged bear didn't seem intimidated, only hissing louder in response. A glance over its shoulder told him why: a nest of twisted vines and branches filled one end of the balcony, hidden from below. Out of it poked two smaller heads, looking at him with a mix of fear and curiosity. I'm intruding on the poor things' home, Markath thought, his anger fading.
"Peace, little one, I've no quarrel with you," he said, keeping his voice low and calm, closing his mouth to hide his teeth. He couldn't blame the poor thing for wanting to keep him away from its cubs, but he had to find a way past and if he had to fight he would.
The door from the balcony into the palace was closed, which could be a good sign or a bad one. It made it less likely that the wildlife had ruined whatever waited inside, but that would only help if he could get it open. Carefully edging sideways, keeping as far away from the nest as he could, Markath crossed the balcony to the door. The flying bear watched him closely, long claws extended from its paws.
But it didn't attack, and Markath reached up slowly, trying not to startle his host, to grip the door's handle. The door wouldn't move at a quick push, but when he put some effort into it, it shifted inward a little. Enough that he was sure it could move, if only he could put some more strength into it. A firmer shove opened it a crack, and the bear hissed a warning.
"Sorry," Markath said quietly. "I don't want to disturb you or your children, but I will get inside."
Taking a breath, he threw his weight against the door, and the door gave way with a crash. He tumbled inside as the bear launched itself at him with a shriek, and he just barely avoided the razor-sharp claws as the creature tried to chase him away. With a kick to its furry stomach, he forced it back through the doorway and then managed to slam the door in its face. The door screeched shut as he pushed hard, finally separating him from the ball of fur and teeth and claws.
Only then did Markath look around at the room he'd entered. There was barely any light inside, and it took a while for his eyes to adjust, but eventually he could see where he found himself.
It was a tall chamber, and clearly the main room of this palace. There was enough space for several dragons in warform to comfortably share the room, but at the moment only one was present. He was long dead, of course, but his body still rested there on a dais, hide dried to a leathery covering on his bones. Markath looked up at the dead dragon's empty eyes, paying his silent respects to the dead.
You may have been a monster, for all I know. If you hunted humans, or other thinking beings, then you were. But you are still of my blood, and your sins are a thousand years dead now. I can honor your final resting place.
He stared into the eyes of the dead for ten long breaths, and then looked away, examining the rest of the room. Around the walls were displays showing the prey this dragon had hunted in his lair. A dragon would want to be surrounded by his hoard, and different dragons hoarded different treasures. This one, it seemed, collected animals. There were hundreds of them, more than he could count.
Amongst the displays Markath recognized a demon tiger, and one of the winged bears. There were other animals, too, including a lizard the size of an elephant, its mouth full of razor sharp teeth and limbs long, built for pursuit. He shook his head, glad that thing hadn't survived through the centuries. If that predator had descended upon the humans, not one of them would have made it out alive.
Slowly, Markath realized that they weren’t all hunting trophies. There were small rodents, insects, and other animals no dragon would be proud to have hunted. Whatever this place was, it was more than just a hunting preserve.
At least there were no signs of any sapient beings amongst the trophies. Markath hoped that meant that the dragon simply liked the look of a city to hunt in, but in the end, it didn't matter. The dragon was dead, and Markath wasn't here to investigate the crimes of the past.
He was here for a reason, and that reason did not look promising now. There was no power in the chamber, and the presence of a dead dragon didn't bode well. But he could only try.
Activating his implanted computer, Markath let it look for a signal, any sign of working systems in this palace. And to his surprise, it found something. A faint signal that responded to his attempts to answer it. There was still some power here, though the answer to his implants’ request for information was discouraging. A litany of error messages and damage reports flickered past his eyes, too much for him to take in.
Something was still working, though. Around him he heard a faint hum, and the lights brightened slightly. With a flicker, the image of a man appeared in the center of the chamber, looking at Markath. He was a dragon warrior, a noble by the look of his rich robes and the circlet of gold upon his head, and his expression was cold and sad. His wings spread wide and he spoke.
"Whoever you are, greetings," he said. "I am the late Duke Kagurash, and you stand in my hunting lodge. You are welcome to what joy you can find here. I, being dead, will have no use for it."
It was only then that Markath realized the image was wearing funeral robes. One didn't usually see those on a speaking man.
"I fear there will be little enough by the time you find this. I held out for as long as possible, but it has been half a year since the rebellion and the air outside is gone. No one answers my calls, and my supplies of food run low. Soon I will subsist solely on what I can catch in my preserve, and that will only last so long. Thus, I make my decision — rather than kill all the beasts I have gathered from across the Empire to keep myself alive a little longer, I will do what I can to keep them alive. This place has been my passion in life, and it is fitting that it continues to be so in death."
The hologram pac
ed to and fro, his wings half-spread in a sign of frustration. He stopped and looked in the direction of the dais. "For years I warned that a calamity was coming, that the empire would not stand. I was not believed. And so I came here, to the very edge of our reach, to build a monument which would survive the end of everything I loved. Something that would show the glorious reach of the empire at its height. I hoped that, perhaps, so remote a planet would be spared the devastation to come.”
Kagurash’s hands closed into fists, and an angry snarl spread across his face. “It was not to be. The rebels struck here, as they did everywhere else, before my work was done. But perhaps my preparations have been sufficient, and some of the animals I have brought here will live. The geothermal generators should run until time erodes them; hopefully, whoever you are, you have found this place before they or the airmakers fail.
“The animals I have gathered here do not deserve to share the fate of our people. I have done my best to make the ecosystem here self-sustaining, and this will be its ultimate test.”
With a visible effort, he opened his hands, extending them palms up in a plea to the viewer.
"If you are a dragon warrior, listener, then I ask you to give me the proper rites and remember that I went into death willingly. These animals are my life's work, and if you would be kind to my memory, be kind to any that survive."
His gaze hardened. "If, instead, you are one of the rebels who killed the Dragon Empire, then I spit at you from death. The predators have been programmed to hunt and kill those not of imperial blood, and I hope that your journey here has cost you sorely."
With that, the image of the duke faded away.
He altered the animals, Markath thought. No wonder they'd descended on the humans as they had; it wasn't just hunger that drew them. They'd sensed intruders.
Answering that mystery didn't help him, though. There was no other exit, no secret way out. And no healing to be had, either. All the power was going to the airmakers, and even those were failing. The rest of the technology here was long dead.
All apart from the hologram projector, the last touch of Duke Kagurash's vanity. Markath had to admit that it was a hell of a tomb the Duke had constructed for himself, and for the empire as a whole. Animals gathered from across the worlds they’d conquered, and architecture too. But if he'd left me some healing nanites, I'd be much more impressed.
Slumping down beside the dragon corpse, Markath tried to think about what to do next. There was no other way out, no way to the surface. No way to heal his injuries. He was trapped and cornered, and while there were plenty of animals to hunt, he wasn't in great condition to go after them.
That sparked a thought, and he looked up, smiling grimly. Maybe there was something that he could do. Perhaps Kagurash had left him a tool he could use to save his mate, after all these centuries. If only he could work out how to use it.
Baring his teeth, he set to work preparing. He might not be able to leave the hunting ground, but the humans would come to him. And they'd find him ready.
20
Amanda
"What the hell are your friends up to?" Amanda demanded in a fierce whisper, glaring at Hannah. The two sisters sat back to back in a supplies locker on what remained of the Outrider, tied to each other. Dieter and Jim had abandoned them there without a word.
Amanda supposed she should be grateful they were at least sitting on chairs, but it wasn't much of a silver lining.
"They aren't my friends," Hannah whispered back. "If I'd been willing to go along with them, I'd be out there not tied to you. Don't blame me for this mess."
Amanda gritted her teeth, but she knew her sister was right. She could have gotten rich on her share of this find if she'd just been willing to let Jim murder Markath. And just the thought of that brought tears to Amanda's eyes.
"Sorry," she said, bowing her head and trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm just..."
"Worried about Markath? Angry at Dieter?" Hannah's laugh didn't hold much humor. "Yeah, me too, and it must be a lot worse for you."
"I can't lose him." Amanda hadn't meant to say it, and she certainly hadn't meant for her voice to break part way through. It was painful to admit to herself how much the thought of being without Markath hurt, and admitting it out loud? She could hardly believe she'd blurted it out.
At least her sister hadn't laughed at her. Amanda wasn't sure she could have taken that, not now. She tried to find something else to say to fill the silence.
"We've got to get out of here."
There was a scuffling sound as Hannah pulled against the ropes that bound them, followed by a sigh. "Sure, but how? I can't get these ropes loose, and even if we could get free, what would we do?"
"If we can get back to the Golden Kite, we can make a run for it?" Even Amanda couldn't really believe it would be that simple. For a start, Dieter would be ready for it. And if Captain Harshaw was even still waiting around, there was a good chance he was on the scavengers' side now. He hadn't seemed the type to turn down a fortune, after all, and he hadn't been friendly with her or Markath.
"I don't know if you can fly one of these things, but I sure can't," Hannah said. "So we'd have to find the captain, get him on our side, and then fly away... to get more dragons to help, I guess? I'm not sure about that."
"You're right," Amanda admitted. "By the time we got back, it'd be too late to help Markath. And that's assuming we got away at all. We need to do something else."
"If we can't get out of these chairs, it doesn't matter," Hannah pointed out.
Amanda stayed quiet, squirming against her bonds. They were too tight for her to get out of, that much was obvious, but she had something else in mind.
Her fingers could just about reach to the medical kit clipped to her belt, and with a struggle she managed to pull it free to clatter on the floor. She swore as it fell, but fortunately it was marked with a luminescent cross that made it easy to find in the dark.
It lay on the floor against the wall, and Amanda swore. There was nothing for it. Throwing herself sideways, she pulled Hannah and herself off the chairs they sat on. They hit the floor with a thump that would surely have alerted any guards.
But no one came to investigate. I suppose Dieter really doesn't have anyone he can spare to watch us, Amanda thought, grateful for small mercies.
"What are you up to?" Hannah asked as Amanda pulled the two of them in the direction of the fallen kit. Frowning with concentration, Amanda didn't answer, resolutely shuffling the two of them towards it. Finally, with outstretched fingers, she could reach the kit's zipper and open it. The contents scattered on the floor.
She ignored the bandages, spray cans, pills, and syringes, fumbling through them by feel until her fingers closed on what she was looking for. The scissors. They were designed to cut through space suit material if needed, edges honed to a single molecule's thickness. If Dieter or Jim had known they were in her kit she doubted they'd have left it with her. But their mistake gave her and Hannah a chance to escape. Serves them right for not caring about medical supplies.
Sawing at the cord around her wrists was awkward, and the angle didn't let her put much pressure on the blade. But she could feel the rope weakening as she worked, and she ignored Hannah's questions to focus on the work until, at last, the cord gave way. After that it was the work of moments to free them both, and she pulled herself to her feet.
Which turned out to be a mistake. The hit to her head had clearly affected her more than she thought, and she stumbled into Hannah who held her up carefully.
"Easy there," Hannah said. "You took a nasty knock in the fight. Maybe I should take it from here?"
"No way," she said, searching blindly on her belt until she found her flashlight. "Markath needs me and so do you, you're not ditching me that easily."
"Okay," Hannah replied with a sigh, obviously not convinced that was a good idea. But she didn't argue. "So what do we do? Running won't work."
"And we can't fight, that's c
lear." Amanda's head was still swimming from the results of the last fight against Dieter and Jim. A rematch wouldn't go any better. "Damn it, we need Markath."
"Yeah, well, he's behind a ton of rocks," Hannah pointed out. "So we need to do something about that first."
Flicking the light on, Amanda crouched by the scattered remains of her medical supplies, looking at her painkillers. They'd help her get through the next few hours, at least, and she didn't think that she had a serious injury. She hoped not anyway — with her the only medic around, there was no one to treat her if things got worse.
Swallowing a couple of the pills, she grimaced and looked around the room. Lit up for the first time, Amanda could see what they were trapped with and a smile slowly spread across her face.
"I think we might be able to do that," she said, playing the flashlight over the mining explosives on the shelves in front of her. Hannah leaned over her shoulder to look, and then the two sisters looked at each other with a shared grin.
It might not be a safe plan, but at least it was something.
For a moment, Amanda thought that the lock on the door spelled the end of their abortive escape attempt. There were plenty of tools with which to smash it open, but there was no way that wouldn't attract attention. Before she could despair, though, Hannah pushed her aside and pulled some tools from her own belt.
With a look of concentration, she set to work on the lock. Amanda couldn't help wondering where her sister had picked up those kinds of skills. It wasn't as though the lock looked particularly complex, but she was still surprised at Hannah's ability to pick it with the tools they had on them.
Hannah caught her stare and grinned. "I was a scavenger back on Earth, remember? Half the good stuff back home is behind locked doors, and sometimes I prefer to open them quietly."
The lock clicked and sprang open, and Hannah put her tools away with a satisfied smile. "There. I never thought that trick would come in handy getting out of somewhere, but it just goes to show, you never can tell."
