by Adrian Cross
Clay gathered that he’d been in pretty bad shape, from the roughness in her voice, the way she refused to look at him. But her fingers were surprisingly gentle against his forehead.
“I thought you were dead,” she said softly.
He tried to smile. It hurt. “I owe you one.”
At a muted crash beside them, he turned his head to see the remains of the office, partially collapsed and still burning. Bright sparks of flame swirled around it, and grey smoke spun up to join the dark haze clouding the upper parts of StoneDragon. He coughed as the smoke stung his nose and throat again.
This was not the only fire tonight, but it was the only one that mattered to Clay. Had JP been in there? Clay didn’t know. He hadn’t seen JP, but smoke could have overwhelmed the teenager. Would he have dared the ring of cats to try to get out?
Clay drew a shaky breath. JP. Clay’s possessions. His charcoal sketches of Sarah, done in the months after, when her memory was still fresh, and taped around his room. The extra ammunition for his pistol, also lost. All gone. He was bare again, adrift.
But he was alive. And his heart shivered as he imagined Bern chasing him into that inferno. She could have died as well. Although he shied away from examining his feelings on that front too closely, he knew he didn’t want to put her in that position again.
A hard ball of resolve formed in his chest. He didn’t want Bern as a bodyguard. He wanted her safe and protected somewhere. He couldn’t keep dragging her into greater and greater danger. He knew chasing Karen was going to invite bigger trouble, whatever the outcome. Someone powerful had killed that stump and stolen Karen. He was planning to knock on powerful people’s doors to find out exactly who that was. Even as Earth gods wanted his head on a stick. Bern would be far safer away from him and his plans.
“Who’s JP?” Bern asked.
“What?”
“You called that name as you ran toward the fire. Who is she?”
Grey pain filled his chest as he recalled the flame-filled building. Had JP made it out? If so, where might he go? He was determined to hide from the eyes of others, especially those who might recognize who he was. He didn’t want to be made a weapon again, which was what the Bosses would try to do. As far as Clay knew, JP never left the office. He didn’t know StoneDragon. And the Earth army was rampaging through it. If JP were still alive, he was in trouble, but Clay couldn’t think of any way to help. If he was alive at all.
“Him. A friend,” he said roughly. “A roommate I gave shelter to.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe he got out in time.”
“Maybe.” Clay pushed himself to a sitting position. He was singed and sore, but he could move. “We’re wasting time. We need to keep hunting.”
“Where?” Jonathan growled. “Your city is a mess. Where exactly do we look for Karen?”
Bern handed back the dagger. “You’re probably as healed as you’re going to get.”
Clay slid it into the sheath tucked in the back of his coat, nestled against his spine. It was his only weapon at this point, but it had proven its worth.
He tried to stand, but the world wobbled, and he would have fallen if Bern hadn’t put a supportive hand on his arm. Slowly things steadied.
“You’re giving up,” Jonathan accused. “I knew it. You don’t care about Karen.”
“I care.” Clay growled. “And I’m not giving up. We’ll find her still. And if the Earth gods get in the way, I’ll stick my boot so far up Horan’s ass he spits teeth. I just need to figure out where to start.”
Jonathan looked relieved.
It was all Clay could do to stand. He grimaced. He was sure Horan was quivering in fear. Clay was a mess. His gaze shifted, almost of its own volition.
“What?” Bern asked, frowning. She was battered but beautiful: dark hair curling over doll-like features. Small, but strong, inside and out. “Why you looking at me?”
“No reason.”
He couldn’t put her in more danger. It wasn’t her fight. She needed to go back to her clan. The trick was to get her to agree to it. She wouldn’t. But if he didn’t give her the choice… A vague plan formed in his head.
“North. We go north.”
Clay set out walking, not giving them time to ask any more questions. His body ached, and around him, StoneDragon burned.
18
Monsters in the Night
Flame and shadow stalked StoneDragon, death and smoke. From her perch alongside a dark gargoyle, on top of a gutted and ancient church, Rose watched the streets below.
The spire swayed in the wind, creating a slightly unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. The comforting weight of her compact crossbow pulled at one hand, even as a gust of smoke stung her eyes. She blinked the feeling away.
Beneath her, a shape slunk through the crumbled brick and ash-stained stone of an alley, disappearing and reappearing from shadow to shadow. A stripe of moonlight stroked a powerful back and haunches as it slipped by.
A creature from beyond the Wall, from the looks of it, but heading out of Little Italy, Rhino’s district. What had it been doing there? She didn’t know, but she could make sure it never got to where it was going next. She raised her crossbow, sighting down the stock.
The beast froze. Red eyes gleamed as its head tilted up, as if sensing her attention. It looked like a dark hound.
She exhaled slowly, gathering the slack in the trigger.
The hound twisted and bounded away, melting into blackness.
Rose growled and lowered the crossbow. What had spooked it? She didn’t think it was her.
She sighed. It didn’t matter. She was due back soon. Rhino had been stern in his instructions and was in no mood to be disobeyed. Reconnaissance was the task this time, not full-scale battle, and she had a strict timeline. She could pick off the odd straggler of the invading force but not get sucked into a serious battle that she would have a hard time getting out of.
Rose was tensing her arms to push herself away from the gargoyle when she heard the low thump of boots on stone. She settled down again, crossbow ready. Heavy boots thumped in a solid rhythm. It sounded military.
The same stripe of moonlight slid across a streak of red then bronze as five large shapes lumbered through the alley, bulging with muscle, but human shaped. They were dressed as soldiers, but their equipment strained to contain the bodies beneath. One sword dragged for a few seconds over cobblestones, like an executioner’s axe. The hair on Rose’s neck lifted.
Human or invaders? She couldn’t tell, but she had a feeling these weren’t easy prey. If she made a play for them, she’d have to be sure. She lifted her weapon, hesitated, and then watched them disappear into the dark, the same direction the hound had.
It wasn’t a question of whether they were up to no good. It was only a question of whom they were going to do it to… But she couldn’t risk biting off more than she could chew.
Rose slung the crossbow over her shoulder and slipped back down to the ground, leaving the spire swaying gently in the smoke.
19
Attack on the Lady
Clay found a chance to speak to Jonathan alone when they got close to the Hairy Lady.
All around them, StoneDragon seemed to be on fire. Orange-red flames rose over buildings and lit the bellies of black clouds, thick and roiling. Pockets of fighting were going on all around them. It was like hell had erupted from the soil under the city, just like the Creepers had done once, unknowable years and miles away.
The three of them had caught a glimpse of a pack of rat men ahead and had crouched behind a low wall. Clay had been about to set off in a new direction when they saw the rats freeze and then suddenly scatter.
In the silence, a line of wolves padded past. They looked more animal than human, walking on all fours, but hammered steel helms covered long skulls and knives extended from their claws, clicking against dark cobblestones as they swayed past.
Clay and his companions stayed still and silent as the wolves passe
d. The air was thick with blood and acrid smoke, surely enough to mask their scent, but Clay’s heart still picked up as the last wolf—a giant even among its pack, its muzzle scarred with a thick white stripe—looked back. The beast sniffed the air before turning and disappearing into the darkness.
“I’ll make sure they’re gone,” Bern whispered and slipped forward.
It was the chance Clay had been waiting for. He turned to Jonathan. “I need your help.”
Jonathan looked at Clay suspiciously, jaw bunching. “With what?”
“The best chance we have to find Karen now is through the Bosses. Most of whom are not terribly cooperative, and some of whom will be outright hostile. It’s going to be dangerous. But you have that sword, to make yourself invisible. You can watch from a distance and be my ace in the hole, if things get bad.”
“The sword only works on me.”
“I know. It would still help. It’s Karen’s best chance.”
Jonathan’s gaze moved to Bern, who had examined the end of the street and was returning, moving gracefully, hands on her axe hilt.
“You don’t want her to come.”
Clay was silent.
Jonathan grunted. “I will try. I can only stay invisible for an hour or so, at most. I will have to find places to hide. If I lose you, you won’t know. And if it serves Karen better, I may leave you anyway.” His eyes burned.
It was the best plan Clay had. Bern was almost back to them.
“Agreed.”
Amusement glinted in Jonathan’s eyes. “She’s going to be mad.”
Bern frowned at them. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
Not long after, the three of them crouched in the shadow of a street corner, up the hill from the Lady. Bern’s home was under attack.
A mass of Earth warriors swirled around the front wall of the bar, hundreds strong—including the wolf pack that had just passed. Clay also saw a lumbering tree creature, rising above the rest, a multitude of rat men, and a scattering of other creatures. The mess of warriors surged against the building, again and again, trying to hack, chew, or claw their way in.
They were beaten back every time.
The entire Brogi clan had boiled out of the warren of tunnels and caves under the building, forming a hard line of oiled axes, overturned tables, and rigid discipline. Clay even saw a couple of non-dwarf regulars, ardently defending their drinking hole. Or maybe thinking their chances were better alongside the dwarves.
Despite the stiffness of the defense, the Clan was still outnumbered and the Earth warriors were determined.
As Clay watched, a grey-furred wolf shouldered through the defenders and snagged a young dwarf’s arm. The boy looked no older than thirteen. The beast dragged him out the window, into the swirling knot of attackers.
“No,” Bern groaned. She stood.
A shadow flashed through a second-floor window, and then Brock crashed down, landing among the wolves, blade spinning. The grey-furred wolf staggered away, fur stained red, and Brock yanked the young dwarf to his side. The boy’s arm hung limp and red.
For a moment, surprise drew the wolves back, flowing around the two like a furry river, tongues lolling.
Brock stood, waiting calmly.
A creaking sound pulled Clay’s attention away from Brock and toward the alley, where the massive tree thing had stretched its ridged limbs over the roof of the Hairy Lady. Beams and tiles shuddered. It was trying to rip the top off the building, he realized. The Lady shook as the creature exerted its strength, trying to unearth its enemies by sheer force.
At the front of the Lady, the wolves rushed Brock.
Bern’s face twisted in fear and indecision.
“You should help them,” Clay said.
Her gaze shot to his. He knew what she was thinking: Mama had tasked Clay’s safety to Bern. She had left him once and regretted it. How could she do it again?
“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her. Guilt knotted his stomach, but he’d made his decision. Bern would be safer with her family. “Go.”
“I’ll be back,” she said and charged into the battle.
The Earth warriors weren’t expecting her, and the shock of her assault, axe whipping in precisely delivered arcs, carried her all the way to Brock’s side. The wolves drew back, and Brock never hesitated. He surged forward. With Bern at his side, he tore through the Earth warriors, opening a gap to the bar. They shoved the young dwarf at the window, and strong hands pulled him to safety.
Brock and Bern turned and hit the wolves again, taking renewed vengeance.
Clay knew it was a good time to go, before Bern’s focus returned to him, but he hesitated, looking at the massive tree still worrying at the building. His goal was to make Bern safer, not leave her in a losing battle.
Shingles crashed down in a dark shower. Timber ripped and spun away, like a bear worrying a log. The tree pushed its branches into the openings it had made and then strained taut as it leaned back. The Hairy Lady groaned, cracks spreading up the walls. It would tear the building apart by sheer strength. Clay tensed.
Then he saw movement from the second story, the same window Brock had jumped out of. Silver hair glinted as Mama Brogi leaned out, close to the tree. Light glinted off something twirling in her hands. As it flashed around, Clay realized it was a rope, a metal grappling hook tied to its end. The hook spun faster and faster until Mama released it.
It flashed out and tangled around the tree creature’s arms, thunking to a stop in its chest. The creature stopped, confused.
With surprising agility, Mama pulled herself up the rope and onto the roof. She ran across it, still holding the rope, and then jumped off the opposite edge.
She hit the end of the rope. The rope yanked the creature’s limbs against its trunk, banging its surface flat against the roof. It let out a low sound of vegetative surprise.
Mama swung sideways and thudded against the wall. She slid a couple of inches but managed to grab the frame of a nearby window. Hands grabbed her and the rope, pulling them in. The rope went taut, suggesting they’d secured it to something.
The tree creature was pinned, flat to the roof. Bent as it was, it couldn’t find space or leverage to pull loose. It moaned in outrage.
Dwarves flooded out of the building, axes ready. If a dwarf should be good at one thing, Clay thought, it was chopping wood.
A cheer rose from the Lady, and Clay turned to see Brock and Bern bring down the wolf with the scarred muzzle, then turn to its companions.
He watched with grudging respect as Brock danced through his opponents, swaying out of reach of teeth and blades, then responding with tightly controlled swings that bit through ribs and skulls. Bern fought beside him, a perfect counterpoint, graceful and fast, never in his way but always in position to protect his back or block a blow when his axe was tied up. It was as if they’d fought together for years—which Clay supposed they had.
He looked around. Jonathan had already disappeared. The tide of the battle had turned. It was time.
He took a last look at Bern and then turned and limped away.
It was better this way. She would be safer, and where Clay needed to go, she couldn’t help. He refused to risk her.
But boy was she going to be mad.
20
Mendonia Feeds
Clay headed north, skirting patches of flame that lit the haze above and walking through occasional flurries of orange sparks. He kept to narrower alleys and lanes, avoiding the pools of fighting as best he could.
His chest was tight as he imagined the next time Bern spoke to him. If she did. And the thought that she might not made his stomach churn, too. His emotions were restless, confused. Karen had kissed his cheek. He was drawn to her, his body and mind responding. But was it simply an echo of his past? He barely knew her. And what about Bern? She was strong, beautiful, small but not weak. She had saved his life. Was it just gratitude that he felt? And how did she feel about him?
Jonathan ap
peared, walking beside Clay. He welcomed the distraction.
“Where are we going?” the bodyguard asked.
“Little Italy. It’s closest to the Free Zone and run by my old Boss, Rhino.”
“Your master? What’s he like?”
“Tough. Not many tougher in the city. But single-minded and unpredictable, too.” Clay paused. “I don’t know what he would have done if he came across Karen.”
“Why did you leave him?”
“Rhino?” Clay thought about it. “It’s easy to believe in Rhino. He is very sure of himself. But in recent years, things started going down a darker path. His obsession with the Last Great War and the Creepers was all consuming. I … couldn’t trust him to make my decisions anymore.”
“You deserted your god?”
“Rhino’s not a god.”
Jonathan frowned. “Will he want to help us?”
Good question. “Probably not.”
They walked in silence after that. Around them, the city started to change.
The different districts of StoneDragon had different feels. The Free Zone was a tough no-man’s land, sprinkled with pockets of independent business people like Mama and Clay, entrepreneurs or misfits who were stubborn enough to refuse a Boss and strong enough to survive without one. Which wasn’t always easy.
Little Italy bordered the Free Zone along its northern edge, and the differences were subtle but distinct as Clay and Jonathan crossed the boundary. The buildings became more simple and uniform: square shops and buildings, generally two story, with thick walls, narrow windows, and a line of heavy stones bordering the rooftops, gapped to allow an archer a killing field. Built for defense.
Despite that, most of Little Italy was on fire. Buildings were broken, walls sprawling into the street, and dark smoke swirled up from fire-scorched stone. A massive warehouse spouted flame. Around the base of the warehouse, Clay saw the misshapen shadows of Earth warriors, hundreds of them.
