Caged Warrior

by Lindsey Piper

  Smoke.

  They had no need to signal one another to converge there first. The seven snowmobiles turned in a wide arc to cover the last few miles of the loud, chilly trek. Through what must’ve constituted years of work, the rebels had located this desolate Canadian stronghold. A thousand miles of tundra seemed appropriate when tasked with hiding the secret of conception.

  Dark clouds rising into the snow blue sky reminded him of the day, months earlier, when Nynn had inadvertently revealed the outpost’s exact location. Nynn had destroyed part of Dr. Aster’s lab. That had been the proof the rebels had needed to convince Tallis, and the proof he’d taken to the Giva.

  Throttling down his vehicle, Tallis pulled alongside Malnefoley. The man’s hatred for Tallis had been banked only long enough to rescue Nynn. But they were both caught up in bigger events than the Giva realized.

  A female rebel lifted the visor of her helmet. “What is that?”

  They looked at a smoking, blackened swath of earth. Falling snow melted even before it touched the surface that radiated waves of heat.

  “GPS says that we’re above part of the complex,” said another.

  He was Pendray, although he claimed no association with any of the Five Clans. It was the nature of their loose network that those who wished to remain unaffiliated were allowed that right.

  “I recognize this.” The Giva’s words were strong, although blunted by the wind. He wiped his mouth with the tail of a scarf pulled from his parka. “This is my cousin’s work. I haven’t seen it in . . . Dragon be, I haven’t seen it since the day Leoki died.”

  “Should we look for an entrance?” Another rebel. Another nameless face. “We know the Cage warriors live and train in a secret facility. They won’t be at the outpost.”

  “But Nynn will be,” said the Giva. “Or else she was killed in creating this. Either way, the lab is my first priority.”

  “What about the Dragon Kings down there?” The Pendray man nodded to the cooling slag. Only hours before, it must’ve been covered by the same endless snow. “They could be trapped, collared, and at the mercy of human guards.”

  “I’m not the Giva in this place.” Even wrapped in gear to protect against the cold, Malnefoley’s exposed features were striking. He was as classically handsome as the gods portrayed in Greek art. Symmetry and strong grace. Optimism and light to Tallis’s darkness. “If you want to find an entrance and save what warriors you can, the choice is yours. I’m going to find my cousin and learn what the Asters know.”

  With that, he affixed his goggles and sped toward the outpost. Three of the rebels stayed behind, while the rest followed Malnefoley’s snowmobile. It would remain a mystery whether they did so by rational choice or because, even there, Malnefoley was still the Giva.

  Tallis revved the machine’s engine and tore through the snow in pursuit.

  They closed in on the outpost, which was more like a coliseum of the Tigony’s ancient reign. Made sense. The men and women who fought in the Cages were latter-day gladiators—just as powerful and just as powerless. Playthings of the richest people on the planet.

  Playthings of the cartels.

  Tallis was a man of sideways steps and measured moves. Riding headlong into any situation was just wrong, and yet he needed to do it. His all-weather suit felt infested with lice and the slithering tails of rats. He wanted to be gone, but he battled his destructive temper and stayed the course.

  He would atone for the hell he’d brought down on Nynn. And he would have his revenge against the Sun, who’d convinced him that twenty years of murder was in the service of a higher calling.

  Maybe then he might be able to forgive himself.

  And there she is.

  Nynn of Tigony was trudging through the blinding white, seemingly alone on the endless, icy tundra. Dragon save him, his niece was returning to the laboratory where he’d handed her over to Dr. Aster.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Nynn was no more than a quarter mile from the complex when she felt an ominous drone. She slowed. That same droning hummed beneath her feet. Her vision was whitewashed, her lungs burned, and sweat glued the protective layer of silk to her skin. Only that threatening vibration made her stop completely.

  Two pairs of snowmobiles roared past her, then circled back in wide symmetrical arcs. She had no weapon other than her gift, although the thought of using it made her breath hitch in short, shallow gasps. Not out of fear. Out of pure fatigue. She could gather and amplify energy, but that process seemed to leave her weaker each time. If the figures on the snowmobiles had weapons, if they were loyal to the Asters, she would need to take her chances.

  One skidded to a stop ten feet in front of her. She tensed. Every maneuver Leto had taught her was coiled in her limbs. They could shoot her, or they could fight. She would win if they chose the latter.

  The figure lifted his goggles and threw back the hood of his parka. Bright blond hair shone bronze and copper and gold in the fading sunshine. He always had seemed like some creature made of precious, untouchable treasures, with the blue waters of the Aegean reflected in his eyes.

  “Mal!”

  She catapulted forward so fast she thought she’d knock him from the seat of his snowmobile. But he’d always been strong. Despite disagreements, they caught each other in a flurry of hugs and quick words of explanation.

  “Now Leto has gone ahead. We have to go.”

  “Who’s Leto?” he asked, frowning.

  “He’s . . .” She climbed behind him on the snowmobile and grabbed around her cousin’s waist. “He’s more than I can explain right now. Mal, just ride.”

  Three other people fell in line behind their Giva. They made short work of the distance remaining to the arena outpost. Hard to believe she’d fought with such gusto and pride within those high, forbidding walls. Caught in Ulia’s mind trap, she’d wanted to win so that the Asters would be pleased. The bumping speed of the snowmobile over ice only added to her distress.

  She concentrated until two thoughts remained. Save Jack. Keep Leto.

  Those would be her two most important goals for the rest of her life.

  The patter of what sounded like rain arced around them. Sprays of ice shot up from where bullets struck, some ordinary, some glowing with napalm. One of the snowmobile drivers was hit dead center in the chest. Whether man or woman, Nynn would never know. The body swelled green from the inside out where it hit the ground, and would continue to burn until someone used a Dragon-forged sword to end that misery. The vehicle tumbled to a sputtering stop, useless.

  Mal grabbed her hands and pulled her tight against his back. They leaned forward so far that Nynn grasped the throttle. She could barely see, could only trust and try to keep them riding straight. Mal balanced, then lifted his arms. The sky shrieked with a crack of lightning. Another. Then another. He gathered them like the stems of flowers, then hurtled them like javelins.

  Marble with brick underlay shattered out into the snow. Smoke obscured the damage he’d done. Nynn shuddered against his back as more streaks of lightning cut the deepening afternoon blue.

  The machine guns went silent.

  Mal took control of the snowmobile, then throttled it to a stop.

  The sudden silence was like pain in Nynn’s ears. She was probably speaking too loudly when she asked, “How did you know where to strike?”

  Removing his goggles again, Mal nodded toward another driver—a woman who’d removed her helmet. “Indranan. She showed me their minds.”

  “And you let her?”

  The woman scowled, but Mal lifted his hands. His face had hardened in that way she knew so well. The expression said argument was no option. “You’d rather I guessed? Or turned the building to rubble?”

  Her spine stiffened, but she managed to propel her frozen body from the seat. “I remember now, cousin. Everything.”

  At least that got to him. He inhaled sharply before his narrow lips softened with obvious regret. The Honorable Giva, unnerved.
“I’m glad,” he replied quietly. “Not for your suffering, but because you’ve been freed.”

  “I fought to be free.” The others followed as she picked her way through what Mal had destroyed.

  Inside, she was hit by a sudden headache as her brain adjusted to the change from cold to pleasant warmth. One intake of breath was followed by a flood of bile at the base of her tongue. Her stomach pitched.

  The lab.

  She’d been right. Oh, by the Dragon. She was back in hell.

  That meant she was only steps away from Jack.

  “Prisoners or enemies.” Mal’s voice was authoritative but calm as he spoke to the Indranan woman. “Can you find any?”

  She shook her head, then shuddered so hard that Nynn could see it ripple across the thick parka. “There’s another Indranan here. More powerful. The best I can do is keep her distracted.”

  Unless the Asters kept another tame Indranan in the complex, Nynn knew it would be Ulia. So many scores to settle, but her thoughts remained focused.

  Save Jack. Keep Leto.

  A flurry of guards stormed along the two corridors that intersected at the building’s destroyed corner. Another Dragon King in a parka—dark hair tipped with silver, eerily familiar features—shed his winter clothing. Power bunched up the line of his back. “Giva, you take half. Time for those tempers of ours.”

  Stunned, Nynn watched the man flare into a full berserker rage. No weapons. No armor. Just the ferocity of a Pendray warrior who held nothing back. He tore through the guards along the left corridor, while Mal strode down the right. Sparks of lightning shot from his fingertips and pulsed from the walls. She followed the berserker—a living tornado—because he was mowing through the guards at a quicker clip than her deliberate cousin.

  The stranger jerked her to the side, just as another stream of napalm bullets shot down the hall. He moved nearly as fast as Leto, but without the elegance, as if his Pendray gift made him too angry for physics to restrain. Half of her could relate.

  Pinned to the wall, she watched as the stranger kicked two more guards within inches of death. She slipped free and picked up a discarded napalm rifle. Dragon, she didn’t know how to shoot the thing. She’d be better equipped with her fists or a dagger. Funny how what had been important training in the Cages was trumped by how to aim and shoot.

  “Go,” the man shouted.

  She saw a clearing between the bodies and hurried through corridors, past rooms that began to ring with familiarity. She knew this place by its smell. She’d been prodded down these hallways—and sometimes wheeled by gurney. The surgery theater on the right. The prep room on the left. Farther down, the containment cells where she’d been strapped to tables.

  She began to scream Jack’s name, although the logical woman at the back of her mind knew fury and desperation were liabilities. Didn’t matter. Just saying his name with the knowledge that he might hear was too much to contain.

  A shadow in her periphery.

  She whirled.

  Hark used a flat hunk of sheet metal to knock the barrel of the rifle away, just as Nynn fired. Green glowed in the austere marble just behind his head. His eyes flared wide. A quick exhale and a small smile. “That was close.” He nodded toward another long hallway. “Any clue? Down there?”

  “Yes,” Nynn said. “That’s the one.”

  Armed, she and Hark hurried on. Every corner was both familiar and disorienting. Pain ricocheted through her body, as if the rooms she passed could reach out and reenact the torture. A year lost. A husband lost. But, Dragon-willing, not her son.

  The lights snapped off. She and Hark bumped to a stop. What had been disorienting was terrifying now.

  “Firecracker,” Hark whispered. “Do your thing.”

  Nynn sparked to life. She glowed with electric energy. Just a lantern given to her by the Dragon, lighting her way.

  She focused. Took two steps. And saw the Pet at the end of the hall.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Everything Leto prized was inside a building set to detonate.

  He searched outside, with Silence close behind, until he found a service entrance half-buried by the snow. Here, at least, his body was all he needed. Perhaps another man’s fingers would have gone numb, but Leto’s sense of touch didn’t wane. He cranked the service door open with a grunt and a shove.

  That smell. Lab filth. He nearly coughed on the potent reminder of how Nynn had first come into his care.

  Within a supply room, he found repair equipment. Pipes. Hammers. The tools of humans, perfect in the hands of Dragon Kings. He grabbed one of each, and slung three more hammers in the belt of his armor. Smiling, Silence snatched a pair as well. Leto adjusted his grip, but hand-to-hand violence was nothing compared to the blast waiting to take out the entire building.

  “Quickly.”

  He tore down the hallway leading from the service entrance. The three guards he met were fallen men within seconds. Silence dispatched any who lingered on the bright side of consciousness when he moved on. She was a living shadow. Only her white-blond hair gave her away in the half-lit gloom.

  They stepped into what must’ve been a main corridor. Dazzling. Sterile. The stink of fear had nearly been rubbed clean by bleach.

  “Can you hear voices?”

  Silence tilted her head, her black eyes going distant. Leto felt the touch of her gift as she soaked up some of his powers—his senses and the strange new currents of telepathy. She blinked free of her slight trance, then pointed.

  Leto nodded. “My thoughts, too.”

  They found a hallway that seemed as anonymous as the rest, but it was lined with doors no higher than Leto’s waist. Each was labeled by metal plates. He used the claws of the hammer to pry open one of the doors. When it wrenched free, he stumbled back—not because of momentum, but because of the stench. An inhale from Silence was as compelling as a cry of indignation.

  Inside one room huddled a thin woman, maybe thirty years old. In the next was a robust man in his fifties, who was completely devoid of clothing and hair. A third revealed another woman, scarred in patterns that nearly matched those Nynn bore.

  All were Dragon Kings. No lustrous skin tone. No superiority. They were not warriors and would never fight in a Cage, but these abused wretches were his people.

  He pried open doors as Silence led prisoners into the light. Most collapsed against the corridor wall, blinking furiously. He remembered rumors that Dr. Aster kept his test subjects physically fit. None of the freed prisoners was too weak to move, although some wore bandages and splints. Instead, they seemed stunned. Some curled into themselves, as if the open corridor was scarier than sleeping in metal boxes. Their lethargy made him appreciate Nynn’s fierce attempts at self-defense. She’d come at him with a chunk of concrete. These people stared with blank confusion.

  His heart beat faster as he neared the last of the doors. The head of one hammer tore away. He flung it aside and retrieved another from his belt. Pry. Screeching metal. Pry again. The burn in his muscles was nothing compared to the fear in his heart—that he would find Jack or Pell, or that he wouldn’t.

  “Dragon be!” came a shocked voice.

  Leto turned to find a tall blond man in cold weather gear at the far end of the tunnel. Between them stood Silence, with two dozen of Aster’s test subjects on the floor. Leto lifted his pipe and half crouched, ready to defend these people. “Who are you?”

  “Malnefoley of Tigony.”

  “The Honorable Giva,” Leto said slowly.

  He could see the resemblance now. Nynn and the Giva shared the same coloring and the same perfection of features. Only, this man didn’t have Nynn’s freckles or the slight point to her ears. He was pure Tigony, and he wore the lineage well.

  “You must be Leto.”

  “I am.”

  The Giva gestured to another pair of Dragon Kings, a man and woman, as they flanked him. “We’ll keep these people safe. Go. Finish your work.”

  Leto had started
on the next door before the Giva finished speaking. He should tell them about the detonator. To what end? Two dozen dazed faces were ready to panic at the smallest threat. Even if five healthy Dragon Kings managed to get every prisoner outside and away from the building, they would be stranded on the tundra. And there was no guarantee that the bomb was limited to the outpost, lab, or arena. The whole underground complex could be wired.

  The best he could do was give these people a taste of freedom, for however long they had left.

  He pried open yet another door.

  Pell.

  At first he didn’t recognize her. He couldn’t count the years since last seeing her face. She was on her back, with her head pointed toward the opening. Beneath her was a rolling pallet. They simply . . . wheeled her in and out of what may as well have been a coffin.

  Leto had fought for this travesty.

  Some part of him had held out hope that it wasn’t that stark, that brutally true. But seeing Pell’s etherally still face stole the last of his hope. The Asters were murderers and liars.

  He forced steadiness into his hands as he rolled her pallet into the corridor. He caressed her brow, half surprised to find she’d matured into a lovely young woman. The tightness in his chest wouldn’t ease. Her skin was warm, but she didn’t respond to his touch. She was beautiful and would never awaken. All he’d ever wanted was her comfort, but now—knowing what had been done to him and to Nynn during their adolescence—he wanted her well.

  If the building didn’t burn around them first.

  He kissed her forehead. Silence’s face was etched with sympathy. She touched two fingers to where Leto had kissed, then nodded. Leto shuddered at what he took to be a wordless vow.

  On he went. Three more doors. Three more people to set free. The first after Pell’s revealed a young boy.

  Leto froze.

  “Jack?”

  The boy’s head jerked up. His eyes were Nynn’s eyes. The same brilliance and intelligence, but tempered with so much fear.

  “Come with me, Jack. Your mother is waiting for you.”