Fire in His Fury

by Ruby Dixon

  Fire barriers for their crops. Wow. That’s so smart. I watch as the carts are pushed into neat rows and see that they’re potted plants filled with what look like tomatoes.

  “I’m already impressed with this place,” I murmur to Rast.

  He only grunts. It does not smell as bad as some of the human hives. I do not think there are many here.

  I eye the vegetable patches. I think he’s right. When you have thousands to feed, like Fort Dallas does, there’s never enough farming to feed all the mouths there, and what little land is quarreled over because someone wants to drop their shanty there. If I had to live in another fort, I’d pick this one, just because it looks cleaner and more open.

  Plus, I don’t see militia patrolling. That’s a big positive in my book.

  I can't help but notice that everyone here looks a little uneasy, though. As we approach, my nervousness escalates. Can they tell Rast is a dragon, then? Is it that obvious? I thought his disguise was pretty good. I clutch his hand tighter and the two guards at the gate step forward. They're wearing fire helmets and coats, which would be amusing if it wasn't such a good idea.

  I also notice that the two at the gate are women, which is also a first for me. I'm used to the militia, which is nothing but a bunch of guys throwing their weight around. These women don't look like they should be messed with, though. Each one carries a shotgun and it looks like they're far too comfortable with handling them.

  One lifts her chin and hitches her gun under her arm, her finger near the trigger. “State your business.”

  “We're travelers, stopping through,” I say, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “Saw the signs on the road that said this place was friendly and welcoming.”

  “To a point,” the woman says. She doesn't move out of my way, though. “It's a bad time to come visiting.”

  “Because of the dragon?” I reach into the pocket of my skirt and pull out the note that I've kept. “I got this from a dove that I saw. Joanna sent it. Can I talk to her? I want to help.”

  The two women exchange a look. “Joanna?” says the other.

  “That's right.”

  The women shoulder their guns and one moves toward the gate. “I'll bring you to see Gwen. You got weapons on you? We'll need to pat you down.”

  “No weapons,” I say, but my voice is tight, worried. If they pat Rast down, is his disguise going to be ruined?

  Can I bite their hands? My dragon growls in my head.

  No, please. We want to get inside the place, remember?

  He growls again. Then they can put their smelly hands on me, but not for long.

  It won't be for long, I promise. I give the women a bright smile. “You're welcome to pat us down.”

  One moves forward and runs her hands quickly over my legs and waist. “Name's Andrea. That's Cass. You?”

  “I'm Amy. My boyfriend is, uh, Sam.” When he growls in my head again, I shush him. You need a human name.

  Did it have to be that one?

  “Nice to meet you both. Where you come from?” Andrea moves toward Rast and gives him the same cursory pat-down, and I'm relieved to see she doesn't go near his arms, where his spikes would be painfully obvious if she rubbed him the wrong way.

  “Fort Dallas,” I say, and when they make noises of surprise, I continue. “I know. Far, isn't it? We were heading along to Fort Orleans, see if it's a more welcoming sort of place. Had no idea you guys were here until we got the message from Joanna.”

  The women cast another look between each other and then Cass gives me a polite smile. “Fort Orleans is big. Unruly. Lots of hungry folks there. We like it here better.”

  “It looks nice here,” I admit. Structured. Quiet. Clean. All of those things are so rare in the After.

  I do not like how uncomfortable they are, Rast tells me. They are hiding something.

  I'm getting that feeling, too.

  “And the dragon? The note said you guys were under siege.”

  “Dragons are dragons,” Andrea says, waving a hand. “No sense in fussing over it.”

  “No sense in fussing…” I echo, surprised at her response. This is the same place that sent a note pleading for help from the attacking dragon? “We’ve some experience with dragons,” I tell her. “If you have one that’s hovering over your city, maybe we can help.”

  “Not necessary. He’s gone now, isn’t he?” She smiles brightly at me—a little too brightly. “Come. I will show you to the guest quarters. You can wait there until Gwen meets you for dinner.”

  “And Joanna?” I ask.

  “And Joanna,” she agrees.

  RAST

  There is the familiar smell of human dung and dirt in this hive, just like every place that humans find to dwell. Whenever there are more than a handful of them, the stench follows. To me, that is not surprising.

  What is surprising is that I pick up a very different scent as we enter the “fort,” and scan the faces around us looking for the answer. Despite the dark “glasses” I wear over my eyes, I can still make out faces and bodies. There are maybe twenty or thirty people here, mostly female and with small young. I see females with young clutched to their breasts, some holding the hands of older ones who watch us with curious eyes. They do not look hungry, which makes my heart glad.

  I do not think I could bear to see the young hungry. It reminds me too much of my own youth. I still remember my mother's pinched face, the way she held my sister and shook with frustration and anger when she realized that Tamarit would not be waking up again. It is while I study the children that I see him.

  Another male. He is covered from head to toe, much like me, and as I glance in his direction, he slips behind the others, disappearing into the small crowd, but not before I catch a glimpse of golden skin, heavy clothing, and a hat that would hide his horns. Curious. A mated male, then? I send out a mental greeting, but there is nothing in return.

  If he is drakoni, his mind has been gutted. There is no psychic link, no brush of his mind, no presence at all. Strange.

  I want to push forward after him, to chase him down, but Amy is clutching my hand so tightly I do not dare leave her side. She listens as one of the females continues to chatter at her, talking about growing food and how safe they are, and how happy everyone is. These are not the faces of happy people. They gaze at us as if we have brought trouble to them instead of trying to solve it.

  My mate murmurs something back as I scan the group once more. No sign of the dragon-man…if he existed. I am now doubting my own abilities, and I breathe deep, trying to catch his scent. All I get is more human stink, and nearly choke on the miasma of it. I send another feeler out mentally, but there is no response.

  Perhaps it is another fragment of my broken mind. Did you see him? I ask Amy. The man with the golden skin? Standing at the back of the crowd?

  She glances around and then looks over at me. No. Do you want me to ask about him?

  No. Let us not call attention to my appearance. I squeeze her hand. A drakoni uses two senses more than anything—his mental link with others of his kind, and his sense of smell. Neither of these tells me that another was here. I must be seeing things. For a moment, I am dejected. I thought I was doing better than that. I thought my mind had healed more.

  You are doing fantastic, Amy sends to me with a little return squeeze of her hand. Maybe we'll find out more.

  Maybe. If not, so be it. A Salorian would have made his presence known the moment I tried to touch his mind, so it is not one of them. If it is another who has found a way to stay safe and sane in this strange world, I will not be the one to give away his presence. It does not matter, I tell my Amy. Let us find this Joanna and be on our way.

  “Where can we find Joanna?” my mate asks. “Her message made it seem like things were very urgent. I should talk to her.”

  The woman glances over at my mate and shakes her head. Joanna is out but will be back for dinner. We are invited, she says, to have dinner with the mayor of th
e town, Gwen.

  “I see,” Amy replies. I can tell she is uneasy.

  Have no fear, my mate. We will not do anything foolish. If they betray your trust, I will snap their necks.

  No neck snapping yet, she sends to me with a hint of amusement. I guess I should be scared that it's clear they're lying to us, but I'm mostly irritated at the subterfuge. Having you at my side makes everything okay, though.

  I bite back a draconic rumble in my chest at her pleasant words. Ask them to have dinner now. Best to get this over with.

  My Amy smiles at the woman. “What time will dinner be served?”

  “At sunset,” the female replies. “Come, I'll show you to where you can stay. We have an area set aside for guests of the city. If you want to stay, you'll be assigned a permanent room, but until then, you'll have to make do.”

  “Of course,” Amy says in a sweet voice. “We really appreciate how welcoming you guys are. I know it's hard to trust newcomers, but we're so pleased to find another settlement that offers safety and comfort. And we've got some goods we can trade if anyone's interested.”

  The woman's eyes gleam with excitement, and then she drops her gaze. “We'll talk about that after Gwen gives the okay.”

  “All right.”

  Huh, Amy sends to me not a moment later. Most people coming in from the Scavenge Lands would be asked what they have. I know it was always exciting when travelers came through at Fort Dallas. She hasn't even asked if we're nomads. And it's clear she wants to trade, but she…won't? Not unless Gwen gives the okay? Something's strange.

  We will be ready if they should try anything, I tell her. Do not worry.

  I'm not. I know you'll keep me safe. Her trust flows through her thoughts and fills me with pride.

  The female leads us through the long hallway and as we pass by doors—classrooms, Amy fills in for me—we see that they are set up as homes. Families have made nests and decorated each one, and more people peek out to stare at us as we move past. The woman gestures at a door at the end of the hall and indicates this is where we will be staying. She tells Amy that if there were others visiting, we would share a chamber with them, but we are the only visitors they have had in a while.

  “That's fine,” my Amy says, her tone as gentle as her lovely face. “We'll rest for a bit and then come out for dinner?”

  The woman smiles and shuts the door behind Amy. We are alone once more. The room is oddly quiet for a long moment, and then my ears adjust to the low hum of people in the distance once more. Amy glances around, stepping forward. “Well, it’s better than what I had at Fort Dallas, that’s for sure.”

  I look around at the room. There is no window out, and the wall is covered by a long, black slab with writing on it. There are three beds for nests, with shelves at the foot of each. The scent of straw is thick, and when Amy moves toward one bed and sits down on the edge, I hear the crunch of straw, as well. “At least the blankets are nice,” Amy tells me, running a hand over the quilted surface of one. “Seems like an awful lot of effort for a trap.”

  Her thoughts just confirm my own. And yet you feel like it is a trap? Let us speak silently, my mate.

  She nods. They didn’t ask the right questions. Didn’t seem to be interested in anything except sending us away until we mentioned Joanna. Then they were quick to welcome us, but I’m still not getting a welcome feeling.

  They were not interested in talking about the dragon.

  No. She is thoughtful. It was almost like an afterthought to them. Or something they specifically did not want to talk about. So strange.

  I sit down next to her on the bed and touch the hat on my head. Can I take this off yet? The band cuts into my forehead.

  Perhaps not yet, she tells me with a little grimace. We don’t know if they’re watching us. We have to be careful a little while longer…and we should probably eat before we go to dinner.

  Realization dawns. You think they poison their enemies?

  I don’t know, but I also don’t want to find out the hard way. She takes my hand in hers. This feels like a mystery, doesn’t it?

  I do not like how excited her thoughts are. She did not lie—she is truly not afraid. Instead, she is eager to learn more about these odd people. As long as you are not harmed, I see no issue in playing along, I tell her sternly. But the moment you are in danger…

  I know. She gives me a little smile and makes a claw with her one hand, mock pretending to scratch. Out comes the dragon.

  24

  AMY

  I’m nervous while we wait for dinner.

  Rast remains in his clothing, though I know he hates every moment of it. I can feel the irritation rippling over him, as if he’s covered in nettles instead of cotton and nylon. He lies back on the bed with me tucked against his side, holding me close against him and playing with my hair.

  We’re both quiet, lost in thought. I keep playing the too-short conversation with Andrea in my head, over and over again. I know these people are different, that they’ve never lived in a place like Fort Dallas, but I try to think how I would have greeted two strangers that showed up on my doorstep, asking about someone.

  I wouldn’t trust them.

  Strangers are always dangerous. People don’t travel for the hell of it any longer. They travel for a reason. If you’ve left your fort behind, it’s because you were kicked out or something else dire happened, like sickness or starvation or dragons razing the entire thing to the ground. They didn’t even ask why we left Fort Dallas, just smiled and invited us in after a cursory pat-down. It would have been one thing if they thought we were traveling scavengers, looking to sell our wares, but they didn’t even seem all that interested in trading.

  It’s like they don’t want to do anything until we have dinner with Gwen…and Joanna, who almost seems like an afterthought to these people.

  The dragon thing is odd, too. If my people were under siege by a dragon, I’d be more afraid. Someone professing they can fix the problem would be immediately encouraged to do so, because even a “small” dragon attack can cost valuable crops or lives. They were less afraid of the dragon than…than what?

  It doesn’t add up.

  Which is why we’re going in to dinner prepared. I’ve got a small knife that was in my pack and I’m going to wear it strapped to the inside of my thigh. Rast is more than ready to take on anyone that tries to hurt us. We’re going in under the assumption that this is a trap. One way or another, though, we’ll get answers. We’ll talk to Joanna and see what’s really going on.

  Vaan is returning. He says he smells his mate. There’s a note of warning in Rast’s thoughts. He is getting harder and harder to convince.

  Tell him it’s too soon. I squeeze Rast’s arm, the one looped around my shoulders, holding me against him. Tell him to be patient one more day or we won’t be able to get her to come out and talk to him. Tell him…I don’t know what you can tell him.

  I am reassuring him that we are hunting down his mate for him and will flush her out of the hive. There is a long pause. He says he will wait one more day. His thoughts become strained. I must constantly reassure him that we are helping him. He does not hold anything in his mind. It is like trying to capture wind.

  His mate better be here, I say, or else this might get unfortunate for everyone else around here.

  Agreed.

  Which is a shame, because they seem like nice enough people. It’s clean here, and there are lots of children, which already makes it different than Fort Dallas. Down one hall, I can hear children laughing and there’s the hum of people chatting a few rooms away, their voices too low to make out. No one seems worried.

  No one seems the least bit curious about the visitors, either, which is another red flag.

  My stomach growls, a reminder that we need to eat before dinner. I hope we’re not going to miss out on some lavish, decadent feast because we’re afraid to eat. What do you suppose they’re going to serve?

  Rast rumbles with amusement
. Joanna?

  That’s not funny, I tell him.

  I eat a small meal of potato chips and a stale cookie, and then we wait for someone to show up.

  It’s not surprising to me that Andrea’s the one that comes to the door. She knocks and then sticks her head in, all cheeriness. “Ready to eat? We’ve got a special stew in your honor.”

  I’ll bet, I think to Rast. But I give her a smile. “More than ready. Thank you so much for having us.”

  “Our pleasure,” she says sunnily. “Follow me and I’ll take you to Gwen’s quarters.” She cocks her head at Rast, a little furrow of surprise between her brows as she notices his cap and sunglasses while indoors. “Headache?”

  “He’s sensitive to light,” I tell her with a little grimace. “His eyes were damaged during the Rift.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” The look on her face is actually sympathetic, and that’s just even more confusing.

  We move in step behind her and I notice that unlike before, the halls are completely silent. No one’s lurking in their rooms or chatting nearby with a friend. No one’s come to gawk at the newcomers. “Do you guys have a community kitchen?” I ask, curious. The answer might be as simple as that.

  Andrea looks surprised at my question, and she gives me another over-bright smile. “Sort of! Gwen can explain it to you. Come on. We don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  “Definitely not,” I agree. Okay, I haven’t felt nervous before, but with all of the empty, silent rooms nearby, I can’t help but feel a bit on edge. Rast must sense this from my thoughts, because he reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

  I love him so much.

  I am here. No one will harm you.

  Just that gentle reassurance is enough for me. I stand a little straighter, and I decide to have some fun with this. We can play along, too.

  At the very end of the hall, Andrea pauses in front of a pair of double doors. “Gwen’s waiting for you inside. Enjoy yourselves and welcome to Fort Shreveport.”