Call of Destiny

by Adams, P R

  Riyun moved faster that night than ever before. His blade cut through the arm of the closest raider, then Riyun closed with the second, smashing the man’s head in with the rifle butt. The third seemed unsure whether to pull his pants up or bring his own rifle to bear.

  Riyun cut the man’s throat.

  But there was no amount of speed that could make Riyun faster than the man on Monisa. He had a pistol pressed against her bloody cheek. “Stop right there, boy. You’re a fast one. Bullets are faster.”

  Monisa squeezed her eyes shut. “Riyun, I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Monisa. I’m the one who failed you.” Riyun set the rifle on the floor. “Take your horses and go. All I care about is her.”

  The raider guffawed. “I’ve taken a liking to her myself. Pretty as I’ve ever seen in all my years.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  Riyun pointed the tip of the knife at the Tungron. “Let her go, and I’ll let you live. That’s the deal.”

  That drew a snort from the raider. “Boy, can’t you see this pistol? I’m making the calls. Hear me?”

  A rifle report from the kitchen silenced the raider, but it was immediately followed by the pistol’s thunderclap and the spray of Monisa’s—

  Scraping and rattling woke Riyun.

  Sunlight lit the room, revealing the tub they’d have to empty before leaving and Symbra tangled in the musty linens of her bed. She must have dreamed, too.

  Smoke.

  Dreams sometimes stayed with Riyun, especially after the Golgar Portals. He could smell something burning as strongly as he had that night back on Hurdist.

  Then there was the scraping and rattling again, and he realized something was tugging at the shutters. Cracking the wood.

  Claws. Reptilian claws.

  He wasn’t dreaming. The smoke and the scraping and the claws…

  The shutters were suddenly torn away with a snap of dry wood and the groan of hinges being yanked from stone anchors. Riyun had a moment to catch a reptilian form before it fell from sight, ruined shutters clutched in its grip.

  “Symbra!” He rolled off his bed and searched around for his Devastator carbine.

  The Onath mercenary sat up in her bed. “What—?”

  Her question was silenced by the creature, which hopped onto the sill, flinders still clinging to leathery wings. It was similar to the flying lizard that had attacked in the forest clearing—winged and reptilian—but was otherwise completely different. The coloration was darker, the scales more pronounced, and there was more of a hooked beak to it. A horn-like protrusion rose from the end of the beak top.

  And the eyes…

  They weren’t animal eyes but intelligent. Deep gold, with a vertical slit for a pupil.

  Those eyes leapt from Riyun to Symbra.

  She screamed and jumped from her bed.

  It was the wrong thing to do.

  Her feet tangled in the linens, and the bed groaned just before one of its legs snapped. She spilled to the floor and rolled against the tub with a groan.

  Riyun’s fingers curled around his weapon, but the beaked thing seemed to anticipate that and jumped onto his chest, bearing him down.

  It was heavy, and Riyun didn’t have his armor to take the weight. Its hind legs pinned him down, and it reared up to bring its wicked beak down in a strike that could without a doubt snap bone.

  He whipped the carbine across the thing’s face before it could attack. “Symbra! Shoot it!”

  Out of the corner his eye, he caught enough movement to realize she was getting up.

  Unfortunately, the winged monster noticed as well. It craned its neck toward the young woman. Then its beak opened, and a horrible sound—like a vomited squeal—rolled out.

  And then came a sulfuric smell, followed by a gout of flame that seemed simultaneously liquid and alive.

  Once again, Symbra screamed, but this time there was as much pain in the sound as terror. It was drowned out by the splash of water.

  Riyun swung his carbine again, this time striking the thing in the throat just behind and below its jaw. The blow caught the beast by surprise and seemed to infuriate it.

  It arched its back so that its head was right above Riyun’s face. The beak opened as it had before.

  But it only managed a choking sound.

  The thing looked as surprised as Riyun.

  He swung again, but it got a wing inside his attack and batted the weapon away.

  No gun. Hips pinned down by the thing’s weight. Only an instant of confusion while the monster tried to deal with whatever he’d done to it. Riyun searched around for his knife, but it was closer to the window, behind the reptile.

  So he grabbed the beak.

  The thing snapped at him and with its hard bill could probably have easily severed fingers.

  But Riyun was fast. He released the bony jaws, seized the horn, then grabbed both the top and bottom of the beak.

  And he squeezed.

  Years of combat, and before that years of labor, had gifted him with strength, but the thing was so much more powerful. Its head jerked back and forth, and its jaws worked against his grip.

  He held. Straining, grunting with the exertion, but not giving up. If it opened its mouth again—

  Water sloshed onto the floor, and the thing’s eyes tracked to something deeper in the room.

  Symbra.

  Wet footsteps slapped against the wooden floor, then something scraped and rattled. The Onath groaned, and he caught the familiar clatter of a weapon strap on the barrel. More wet footsteps slapping on the floor, then she was at his side, swatting the thing’s wing. Her clothes were blackened and wet, and there was unmistakable redness on her arm.

  But she swung the weapon with a welcome fury.

  And Riyun held on to the beak with all he had.

  Finally, she screamed and landed a blow against the back of its skull. Its eyes lost focus for a second. “Get away!”

  Riyun didn’t need a second warning. He twisted his hips, brought a knee up into the reptile’s torso, and rolled from beneath it.

  Then there was the distinctive burp of her weapon, followed by the heavy, wet splash of gore.

  The thing thrashed and scraped, gouging furrows in the wood as it tried to right itself.

  Riyun continued to crawl away from it, watching its death throes over his shoulder. The thing got its feet beneath it and brought its head up to glare at Symbra. For a moment, it looked as if it might finish her off with another gout of fire, as if the holes punched in its chest that now sprayed dark blood everywhere weren’t actually fatal. Just as quickly, though, it shivered, and the intelligence went out of its eyes.

  Before Riyun could get to his feet, the door to the room burst open. Javika sprang in first, sword drawn and murder in her eyes. Hirvok was close behind, then Quil and the rest.

  The wiry assassin rushed to the beast and prodded it with the tip of her blade. “The things from the clearing?”

  Riyun limped to Symbra’s side and waved Quil in. “No. This thing spat fire.” He tugged on a portion of the Onath mercenary’s charred shirt. The cloth came away in a wet clump, revealing red flesh.

  The young woman gasped. “Oh. That…”

  Quil caught her as she collapsed. He set her on the broken bed and unzipped the hip pouch he’d brought with him. “My backpack. If I get the blister salve on her quickly enough, I can save this skin.”

  Hirvok spun and was gone before Riyun could even take a step. Letting people get involved within the team was a bad idea, but it was good to see the sergeant actually showing concern for someone else. Hirvok was experienced and understood the risks of the job. Maybe his attraction to the young woman was purely physical. Symbra was pretty enough, if a little on the pampered side.

  Then again, Monisa had been similarly soft. There was nothing wrong with not letting life wear you down.

  The pseudo tore away the last of the burned clothing. Blisters w
ere already forming, and it seemed as if Symbra might be on the edge of going into shock. She blinked rapidly, and her lips trembled. Her breath was short and loud, and it sounded as if she were trying to speak.

  Quil frowned, but when Hirvok returned with the backpack, the pseudo dove right into his work. “We have a small reserve of painkillers.” He squeezed half a tube of a clear gel into the palm of his hand and rubbed that along the length of the burn. His frown turned to a wince when some of the flesh came away in his hand. “Lieutenant?”

  Riyun hated himself for what he had to ask. “Will she live?”

  “The odds are good. Our main concerns are infection and preventing nerve damage. The salve is the first step. Clean bandages are the second. Avoiding shock would be a good third.”

  Something scraped against the door frame: Lonar. “Give it…to her.”

  The big man’s eyes locked with Riyun’s. There was no resentment or hostility. Lonar only cared about the suffering of a fellow team member.

  Javika brushed past Riyun. “I will get her a new shirt.” She stopped, glaring at him. “You bleed.”

  Blood was spreading across the front of his tattered T-shirt. “It’s nothing. The thing’s claws—”

  “You will live.” The Biwali warrior scowled, then hurried out.

  Hirvok seemed frozen in place, eyes squinting with each gasp from the Onath woman.

  Riyun set a hand on his sergeant’s shoulder and pulled him into the hallway with some effort. “Hirvok?”

  “That wouldn’t have happened.” The sergeant spoke through clenched teeth. “She should’ve been with me.”

  “You couldn’t have stopped it. That thing tore the shutters—”

  “I would’ve stopped it!” Spittle flew from Hirvok’s lips. “You’re old, and you’re getting slow.”

  “Hirvok, stop. You need to—”

  “Don’t tell me what I need to do, old man. You dragged us into this. You wanted to get into her pants so bad, you had to put her in the room with you.”

  The younger man was dealing with pain and jealousy. He wasn’t thinking; he was reacting. But he was going over the line.

  And Riyun had to put an end to that. “Hirvok—stop. Now.”

  Hirvok’s hands squeezed into fists. He seemed ready to strike. It was too far; Riyun couldn’t allow it to happen.

  Feet stomped down the hallway, and a shrill voice broke into a string of totally meaningless words.

  There had been times where Riyun had tried to understand some of the local people when they talked. Not this time, not with the way the woman spoke so rapidly and with so much vigor. She was in his face, wagging a finger at him, then wagging it at everyone she could see.

  Then she was in the room, momentarily distracted either by Symbra’s wounds or her state of undress.

  Javika rushed down the hall, jungle-green T-shirt in hand. She cast a cocked eyebrow at Riyun, then hurried inside to help Quil with the last of the bandages.

  Riyun groaned. He glanced over his shoulder at Hirvok. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  The sergeant grinned. “Count on it.”

  Naru was standing between the proprietor’s wife and the broken bed, slowly talking the woman down. Or at least that seemed to be the intent. The old biddy appeared to just be spinning up more and more. Her concern now was apparently the blood on the floor and the broken shutters.

  The hacker shook her head. “It’s all the fires.”

  Heavier steps came from the stairs, and Riyun thought there might be a glimmer of sanity in the proprietor’s eyes. That idea was silenced when the wrinkled man glanced through the doorway and bowed his head. It was the sort of defeated look Riyun had seen many times in his life. The old man was no more in charge than Quil or Naru.

  The proprietor mumbled something, and for a moment Riyun thought he might have understood at least some of the words. It almost sounded like…

  The sky is burning…

  And it wasn’t imagined: Lonar’s eyes were wide in surprise.

  Did the old man know some of their language?

  The scars… The same pattern as the tattoos on the terrorist…

  Riyun reached out. “Excuse me, do you—?”

  Surprise replaced defeat in the old man’s face. “Oh! I never—”

  A shudder ran through the building at the same time as the sickening groan of failing wood merged with the deafening pop of cracking stone. Dust and a fine powder blew out from the room and into the hallway.

  Then the old woman screamed, a high shrieking sound cut suddenly short.

  The old man darted in. “Margva! My love!”

  Riyun tried to grab the proprietor’s shirt but missed. And once through the bedroom door, any further thought of stopping the old man came to an abrupt end.

  Same as the old man’s life.

  The wall that had held the window lay mostly in heavy chunks, some of those were piled on top of the old woman. What had shattered the wall and part of the roof was a giant version of the fire-breathing lizard. The thing was a dark gray-green, with overlapping scales as wide across as Lonar’s open hand. Its wings whipped up dust devils and sent debris through the ruined wall. A wicked, blood-soaked hooked nail protruded from the old man’s back.

  There was no need to bark out orders—the team was operating on instinct now. Javika already had Riyun’s gear and Symbra’s weapon. Tawod hooked his arms under Naru’s and dragged her back into the hallway. Quil hefted Symbra over his shoulder and sprinted for the door, his bag in one hand, hers in the other.

  And the giant lizard…

  The look on its face…

  The smell…

  It was getting ready to breathe…fire.

  “Hurry!” Riyun pointed them toward the closest doors. “Inside! Close the doors!”

  They’d already figured that out. He barely managed to get into Hirvok’s room before the door slammed shut. Lonar shoved Riyun to the floor and dropped on top of him.

  And then the building turned into a furnace hot enough to boil away flesh.

  22

  By all rights, the flames should have turned Riyun’s skin to ash. He’d been in the Gryphon Brigade years before, when he’d barely avoided an incendiary bomb that wiped out a quarter of the command element. This heat was worse. A jade glow flashed through his eyelids, and he crossed his arms over his head. Dry wood and ancient stone exploded.

  Exploded!

  Fire like that should have consumed the oxygen, leaving behind at best choking smoke.

  But when the initial burst subsided, Riyun was still alive. Every inch of him ached like the worst sunburn imaginable, but he was still alive.

  His radio squawked, the active light a blurry green.

  Lonar grunted, and his weight lifted. “How—?”

  “Lieutenant! Lightning!” It was Tawod. “The fire… What do we do?”

  They were alive! His squad was alive! At least some of them!

  Never question when fate shows favor. Act.

  Riyun pushed up onto his elbows, then into a low crouch. All around him: flames. The support beams in the ceiling, the floor and beds, the shutters—splintered wood, all on fire.

  Act! “We have to get out of here! Now! Javika!”

  “Yes?”

  “Find us a path!”

  Quil cut in. “I have an idea.”

  “Then lead!” Riyun got to his feet, shaking. “We’ll follow!”

  They huddled just inside the rooms, looking through the blasted doors at each other in disbelief. Smoke clung to what remained of the ceiling. Heat came from all around. The building groaned and teetered. The giant lizard hissed.

  But everyone was there. Alive!

  After a second of hesitation, Quil seemed to find his confidence and darted down the hall into the room that had held the washbasins. Riyun didn’t hesitate but charged after the pseudo. It didn’t look good, the room full of thick smoke, the walls burning. At any moment, the giant lizard might spit its liq
uid flame into the fragile building and bring the last of it down.

  But Quil’s plan suddenly became apparent: He threw open a trap door and launched himself down stone steps.

  An escape route!

  Riyun followed.

  It was a narrow passage, stone walls close enough to bang off with each hurried step. The glow of fire from above revealed a dirt floor and stone walls in a cramped room. Nooks and shelves held jars and boxes, some smoking from the intense heat that had somehow traveled down. On the opposite wall from the base of the stairs: a small, wooden door.

  Riyun stepped aside to allow the others to get down. He managed a smile when Lonar squeezed past, then found Quil again. “Where’s that door go?”

  “Stairs to a courtyard out back. What we want is here, though.” The pseudo passed Symbra over to Hirvok, who held her as gently as a baby, then stomped on the floor.

  The pseudo squeezed between people or shoved them aside. His boots barely made a sound.

  What was he doing? Riyun could only imagine the plan had gone wrong. “Do I even want to know what you’re doing?”

  “Another trap—” Something made a hollow noise beneath Quil’s boot.

  He squatted, waved the others back, then ran his hand over the dirt until he found what he was looking for: a circular handle. Black iron, wide as a hand, hooked into something under the soil. He scooped handfuls of that aside, then hauled the handle back. The earth came away in clumps, and what sounded like an ancient set of hinges squeaked terribly.

  The stench of an ancient cesspool crept up from below, drawing groans and gasps.

  All Riyun could think of was the gases that must have built up over time: methane. The open flames…

  It must’ve been on his face, because Quil smiled. “It is vented. The architecture of—”

  “Later.”

  Riyun did what any good leader would do, dropping through the opening first and putting on a show of it being absolutely wonderful. He told himself not to focus on the way he had splashed upon landing, or that his feet had nearly shot out from under him in the slime. What mattered was that they were in a cool space, dark and protected from the giant beast above. Brick pillars rose at the very edge of his sight, but there was no sign of walls.