“We have to abort,” Cyril said. “I can’t get through this circle. It feels like all of the priests in the temple cast a protection spell on it.”
“But …” Ben said, unable to think of what to say next.
“We’ll fall back and come up with a different plan,” Cyril said. “For now, we have to go.”
“Too late,” said a voice from behind them, outside the bars of the fence. “Lay down your weapons and step through, please.”
They turned as one and saw a man dressed in a deep crimson robe. His face had taken on some of the characteristics of a dragon—his eyes were catlike and his skin looked almost scaled. The black claws at the end of his fingers were small but sharp.
Four Dragon Guard and a stalker mountain lion were arrayed around him.
He held his arms out. “Surrender is really your only path to survival,” he said, smugly.
“Get down,” Cyril shouted, tossing something over the fence.
Ben went to a knee, and was thankful for it. The force of the blast nearly knocked him over and the ringing in his ears was deafening.
“I didn’t like that,” Homer said.
“Me neither.”
Cyril put a hand on Ben’s shoulder and pointed for him to get through the fence. He nodded, scanning the area and finding that the priest, his stalker pet and the Dragon Guard were all little more than paste on the road. Whatever his grandfather had thrown, it had been powerful.
Ben headed across the street, wishing he could find a shadow in the light of the temple.
“I still can’t hear right,” Homer said.
“Me neither, but it’ll come back.”
He stopped to wait for his friends, working his jaw to pop his ears, feeling a sharp stab of pain from each. Everyone else looked to be in similar shape, but all things considered, it was probably the best they could have hoped for.
Using hand signals, Cyril got them moving at a light run toward the door in the wall. By now the streets were full of people wondering about the explosion. Most didn’t give them a second look. A few watched them run by with suspicion.
The alarm bell sounded and the inner-city guard began to mobilize, every available Dragon Guard arming up and taking to the streets to secure the temple.
Cyril stopped on a corner, breathing deeply. “We’re clear to the door, but four Dragon Guard just arrived and they’ve seen the bodies we left behind.”
He projected a holo-screen. The Dragon Guard were clearly agitated, calling for reinforcements.
“So we should probably hurry,” Hound said. “Hit ’em hard and fast and be on our way.”
While they considered their options, a cougar stalker came into view, taking up position at the door. Cyril panned the drone and saw a dozen more Dragon Guard just arriving, along with another two priests.
“That way is looking less and less promising,” Cyril said. “Let’s try your way, Rufus.”
Hound nodded, pulling out a map and orienting himself before pointing out the location of the bakery.
“Good,” Cyril said, heading out, his drone scouting the way for them. He was successful at avoiding the Dragon Guard that were now becoming more prevalent on the streets. The neighborhood gave way to a small market area with dozens of shops, their overpriced wares displayed behind windows.
They reached the bakery and checked to make sure it was empty of employees, then went around behind the building and found the back door.
Kat smiled at it and went to work, sliding a pick and a wrench into the keyhole and opening the lock in a matter of seconds.
Cyril nodded approvingly, going inside and motioning for the others to follow, before closing and locking the door behind them.
“All right, where?”
“Give me a minute,” Hound said, looking around the room.
Cyril called up his holo-screen and sent the drone high, looking at the door through the wall. Images of two priests, a stalker, and a platoon of Dragon Guard appeared.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Sometimes it’s just too easy,” he said as he activated the ex-plus charge he’d set inside the wall.
A loud crack reverberated throughout the city followed a few dozen seconds later by the sound of rocks the size of a man’s fist raining down on everything and everyone.
After a few moments, the cloud of smoke and dust drifted away, revealing a pile of rubble—all that remained of the gate room. The gap in the wall was fifty feet wide.
The Dragon Guard were simply gone, erased from the world in the blink of an eye.
“That’ll certainly get their attention,” Kat said, smiling. “I’m so glad I came along.”
“Ah, here,” Hound said, opening the door to the cellar.
Cyril lit his lamp, casting light down a steep staircase. As he descended, he tested each stair before committing his weight to it and found them to be far more sturdy than they looked.
Hound descended next, the others following close behind. After a few moments of searching, Rufus found what he was looking for. He shoved a crate aside and took a step back, motioning to a tunnel entrance.
“Excellent,” Cyril said, peering inside. “Looks like we have to crawl for a ways and then it opens up a bit.” He checked his gear and entered the tunnel, plunging the cellar into darkness.
A few moments later, light emanated from the tunnel.
“It’s clear, come on down,” Cyril said, holding his lamp high to illuminate the way.
Hound went last, taking a few moments and some grunting to move the crate back into place.
The five-foot-wide stone passage was arched just a few inches above Ben’s head. He could stand without stooping, but it felt oppressive to have the ceiling so close.
The tunnel ran straight toward the wall. After a few minutes, Ben started to feel like he was walking through a tomb. It was crushingly quiet. Every footfall, every breath felt like a violation of the silence. By the time they reached the door on the other end, he was eager to see the sky again.
The second bakery was empty as well, a small thing that Ben found himself profoundly grateful for. They were able to leave without a trace, even taking a moment for Kat to lock the door so the owner would be none the wiser.
Chapter 34
The warehouse district was void of all activity. The explosion had spooked everyone, especially those who actually had something to hide. The Dragon Guard were all inside the inner wall protecting their own, leaving the streets clear. Cyril and his group passed through the area with relative ease, just a few dogs straggling behind them, but they weren’t too aggressive.
When they neared the warehouse, the feral dogs stopped, yelping and then running away. Ben looked at Homer.
“I smell a stalker,” he said, “and that blond bitch.”
“Nash?” Ben asked, alarm surging into the pit of his belly.
“Yeah, the one that’s been chasing us from the start.”
“Stop!” Ben whispered urgently.
“What’s wrong?” Cyril asked, motioning for everyone to wait.
Ben had to think for a moment to justify his concerns. “Why did the dogs suddenly back off?”
Cyril shrugged, considering it for a moment. “They did seem spooked.”
He launched his drone and sent it up high, switching to thermal vision and scanning the area for several blocks. When his screen settled on the warehouse, he could see the images of more people than there should have been … along with the silhouette of a wolf.
“Quickly, into this building,” Cyril said, rushing to the nearest warehouse.
Aside from a mountain of crates piled up at one end, the place was cold and empty. Cyril brought up his holo-screen and sent the drone into Enzo’s warehouse for a closer look.
Imogen, Frank, Annabelle, and Adam were all tied up in the center of the room. Enzo was still tied to the chair, but was separate from everyone else. Frank was still unconscious, but that hadn’t stopped them from dragging him out of bed, tying hi
s hands behind his back and leaving him on the floor, his head cradled in Imogen’s lap. Adam had a bruise across his cheek and a very black eye, but he looked more angry than hurt.
Three Dragon Guard had taken up positions around the room in easy range of the two doors and the group of hostages, rifles in hand and at the ready.
Nash sat in the chair opposite Enzo. Her wolf-stalker sat next to her, occasionally baring its teeth at Enzo when he was reluctant to answer a question. A young boy was on his knees on her other side, a collar around his neck. He looked thoroughly defeated.
“Shit,” Cyril said, under his breath.
“Oh God, she’s got Zack,” Ben whispered.
“I’ll be right back,” Kat said.
“No,” Cyril said.
“Annabelle is my charge.”
Cyril held up both hands to forestall any further protest.
“We’re going in, but carefully,” Cyril said. “The Dragon Guard probably have orders to kill the hostages if we attack. Their armor will stop your darts cold, and that stalker will ignore them altogether while it rips your throat out.”
“Very well, what’s your plan then?” she asked, her fists on her hips.
“We hit them hard and fast from both sides in a coordinated attack,” he said, pointing to the holo-screen. “I’ll come through this door with John and offer to negotiate. The rest of you will circle around and prepare to come through the back door when I give the signal.”
“That won’t work,” Homer said.
“Why not?”
“The wind is blowing this way.”
Ben hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what Homer was getting at.
“I feel you may require a psychological evaluation,” the augment said. “Dogs can’t talk.”
“Be quiet,” Ben said. “What are you talking about, Homer?”
“The stalker can smell better than I can. If you send people around the building, the wind will carry their scent to it in a matter of seconds.”
“That won’t work,” Ben said to Cyril, pointing at the screen. “The stalker is a wolf. It has a great sense of smell, but the wild dogs ran off because they smelled it first. That means the wind is blowing our way. If we send people around the building, we’ll lose surprise.”
“Huh,” Cyril said, nodding his head in agreement. “I can’t fault your logic.”
“But that means a single entry breach through the front door,” Hound said. “Risky.”
“Yes, but less risky than losing surprise,” Cyril said.
“Or,” Kat said, pointing at the holo-screen, “one of us goes around here, to the front of the building, and hits this Dragon Guard through the window the moment everything starts.”
“What about his armor?” Hound asked.
“Won’t matter if I shoot him in the face,” Kat said.
“Fair enough,” Hound said.
The holo-screen image shifted, scanning the ground-level windows in the warehouse along the side in question and finding a pane with a broken section large enough to make a precision shot through.
“All right,” Cyril said. “Kat will take position and hit the guard on this corner. That’s one.”
“What’s the signal?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Cyril said with a smile and a shrug.
“I might get a shot through those broken second-story windows,” John said. “If I get up on the building across the way.”
“Take a look and come back with your assessment,” Cyril said.
“That leaves one,” Hound said. “I go through the door and take him with Bertha.”
“That leaves Nash and her dog,” Ben said.
“That’s you and me,” Cyril said.
“Oh, I got a new gun,” Ben said, drawing the shotgun and pointing it at the ceiling.
Cyril cocked his head. John nodded approvingly. Kat just smiled.
“Nice piece,” Hound said.
“Rufus, could you give him a few pointers, please.”
“Happy to,” he said, holding out his hand for the weapon.
Ben watched him unload it and work it like he understood it intuitively … like he could use it as easily as he could use his right hand.
To his surprise, Rufus Hound turned out to be an excellent instructor. He patiently and thoroughly showed him how to use the shotgun in every way, examining all of the shells in his belt and reporting that he had ten shot shells, plus the two already in the chambers, and four slugs.
He showed Ben how to load the weapon, how to draw quickly, how to target broadly … unless he was shooting a slug, in which case, accurate aiming was important. After Ben was confident that he’d learned everything he could about his new weapon, Hound had him work a few drills with it empty, just to get the feel of drawing and firing.
When they returned to the group, John had done his recon and had a target. Cyril went over the plan one last time.
The night air was cool, but Ben felt warm. Energy born of fear and exhilaration flowed through him. It was a good plan, but one shot from a dragon-fire rifle … inside a building … could be catastrophic. Timing was everything.
Kat and John split off, each moving to their respective positions.
Cyril, Ben, and Hound made their way to the warehouse, moving slowly and carefully, sacrificing time for stealth. Cyril knelt when he reached the door, pulling up a small, dim holo-screen and scanning for Kat and John. Finding both in place, he slowly turned the knob, pushing the door open just an inch or two, before looking up to Rufus and nodding.
Hound shoved the door open violently, rushing in and turning to his right, toward the lone Dragon Guard watching over the group of prisoners and the two doors, leveling Bertha and firing. The Dragon Guard staggered back. Hound fired again. The man’s head peeled apart, spraying blood across the floor as he fell.
Ben followed Cyril into the room. A moment after the first shotgun blast, the Dragon Guard nearest the front wall slapped his neck, staggered a step forward and fell on his face. A moment after that, an arrow stopped mid-shaft in the forehead of the Dragon Guard opposite the first. The man slumped to his knees and fell over onto his side.
Nash leapt forward past Enzo, yanking Imogen to her feet by her hair and putting a blade to her throat, using her as a shield.
Cyril and Ben fanned out around the rest of the hostages, pointing their weapons at Nash.
“Zack, come this way,” Ben said.
Zack looked at him, confusion, hope, and fear battling within his expression. He finally looked down and remained on his knees. Ben turned his attention to Nash and her pet.
“Stop circling me, boy, or I’ll cut her throat.”
The stalker barked, remaining beside her leg.
Ben stopped, leveling his shotgun at the stalker. It snarled and snapped, but held position right next to Nash.
“You’ve been quite the prey,” she said, a sense of relief in her voice and expression, though the tension in her blade hand remained steady.
“What do you want?” Ben asked.
Nash looked at him like he was a simpleton, shaking her head.
“Prestige … rank … authority … power,” she said. “I want what everyone wants.”
Ben felt a creeping sense of wrongness begin somewhere in the middle of his back and work its way up his spine and across his scalp. He realized in that moment that there were people in the world who were not like him in any way.
“Lay down your weapons and you’ll be granted leniency,” she said, changing the angle of the blade at Imogen’s throat to punctuate her demand.
“Kill her and your only leverage is gone,” Ben said while Cyril moved to get a better angle.
“Stop!” Nash said to Hound when he started to untie the prisoners. He stood up, smiling at her crookedly.
“You and me could have worked out so differently,” he said, walking around the cluster of hostages. “You …” he said, looking her up and down, “you’re an Amazon. You got a body to die
for.” He raised his empty hands, shaking his head as he took a step closer. “We could’ve been good together.”
“What?” Nash said, lowering the knife for a moment, bewildered by Hound’s advances.
Kat shot her in the face three times in half a second.
Then the wolf came for her, snarling and snapping as it lunged. She fired … one, two, five, eight, dart after dart, backing up as she shot. The stalker still came.
Ben leveled his shotgun at it, firing the first round quickly once he’d acquired a reasonable target, just like Hound had taught him. The shot peppered the beast, stopping it momentarily. He took a quick breath and careful aim before the stalker could renew its charge.
As the round exploded, thoughts of the effectiveness of the technique raced through Ben’s mind. The first round stops, stuns and disorients the target, maybe even damaging it, giving a moment in the fog to take aim with the second round, firing true … firing for effect.
The blast hit the wolf directly in the face, blowing it over backward. It skittered across the floor, scrambling to its feet. Ben dropped the shotgun as he drew his sword and rushed it before it could fully recover. He hit it across the back, then the neck, and finally through the width of the head. It fell into an expanding pool of blood.
He spun, scanning the warehouse, his sword trailing dark droplets across the cement floor. Nash lay still, unconscious.
Ben looked at her helpless body for a moment and then strode toward her, raising his blade.
“No!” Cyril shouted, rushing to his side. “No, Ben,” he said, a hand on his arm. “If she is to be dispatched, I’ll do it. I won’t make an executioner out of you.”
“But she’s at the heart of everything,” Ben said. “All of our problems are her fault.”
“She certainly had a hand in it,” Cyril said. “But she’s just a lackey.”
“What difference does that make? She did evil to us.”
“Yes, she did,” Cyril said. “And now we need to figure out what we’re going to do next. Killing her has nothing to do with that.”
Ben took a deep breath and let it out, centering himself and releasing his emotions. “No, but strategically, we can’t afford to let her make a report to her commanders.”
The Dragon's Egg (Dragonfall Book 1) Page 33
