by Leslie Chase
He wondered if they'd try and wait him out, but that would only work if they knew they had complete control of Fuller Station. Otherwise the damage he'd done would draw a maintenance crew in, and the guards wouldn't want him to be here and alive when someone else arrived.
Sure enough, the discussion wound down quickly while he sucked on the life-giving air pipe. All bar one of the humans left the room, and Zardan knew that they'd be on him in seconds.
But this time he'd be ready for them, and wouldn't let them keep him from his mate for another second longer.
The outer door closed, as it had to before the guards could open the inner one. No one built airlocks to let both doors open at once, and overriding that failsafe would set off all kinds of alarms.
Zardan took the warning, letting go of the pipe just before the inner door slid open. A blast of air flooded the room from inside the station, and then the humans came charging in.
Which was exactly what Zardan had hoped for. Grabbing at the water pipe, he wrenched it completely free of the wall and swung it into the face of the first human to get through the doorway. It met the man's visor with a crack of breaking glass and sent him tumbling into his companions.
They scattered as he fell back amongst them, their stun batons momentarily knocked aside. And then Zardan was in amongst them, whirling his improvised staff in a deadly dance.
Striking the arm of the closest guard, he sent the human's weapon flying. Disarmed, he was no threat, and Zardan ignored him. The next struck at him, but off balance it was easy to deflect his attack. Zardan roared with a savage anger, grabbing the human by the throat and spinning him into the way of the remaining two. His human shield jerked and cried out as their stun batons struck.
Zardan threw him into one of the others and faced the last standing enemy head-on. The human charged, his stun baton crackling as he spun it with blinding speed. This one, at least, knew what he was doing.
But a dragon warrior trained from birth with all manner of weapons, and Zardan parried instinctively, drawing from that training. Each swing or thrust of the baton met his pipe, glancing aside as Zardan whirled his weapon from block to block.
He took one step back, then another, and knew that he had to finish this soon. The others were getting their bearings and he couldn't fight all of them at once.
The man fighting him was good. Unlike the others, he seemed to know his weapon, and this fight reminded Zardan of the knights he'd fought on Earth. Skilled and tenacious warriors, worthy of his respect.
I could beat him, given time, Zardan thought. But I don't have the time to spare. Gillian doesn't have the time.
Another step back, and he stepped to the side, trying to get behind the line of his opponent's defense. But the human was fast, managing a block that deflected Zardan's staff harmlessly. Grudgingly, Zardan admired his skill. The human wasn't as strong as he was, and his weapon didn't have anywhere near the reach, but still he held his own.
The return thrust was fast, electricity crackling around the head of the human's weapon. Zardan leaped back, barely avoiding the strike, and then almost fell as his feet skidded in the water pooling on the airlock floor. His enemy didn't give him a chance to recover, pressing his attack with a ferocity that Zardan rarely saw in a human. And now, trapped between the parked truck and the wall, Zardan was hemmed in. His staff was too long to use effectively, and he was too big to move easily in the confined space.
He really is good. I hope he survives this, someone with these skills deserves better than to die here.
The moment he parried the next attack, Zardan threw his staff at the guard. It wasn't a good throw, it couldn't be in the confined space, but it was unexpected enough to make his opponent flinch as he knocked the weapon aside. And that was all the distraction Zardan needed to strike.
Jumping in, he threw a punch at the guard's face. The block was fast but predictable, and Zardan went with it, grasping the stun baton and guiding it into the flow of water from broken pipe.
With a loud crack the baton shorted out, but not before delivering a stinging shock into both Zardan and the guard. Zardan, though, was braced for it, and while his opponent was stunned he grabbed his staff again and struck. Once, twice, three times the metal pipe slammed into the guard's armored suit, and then the human fell back.
Two of the others had regained their feet, but they turned and ran at Zardan's approach. The others sat, cradling their injuries, and he strode past them into the station. There was no more time for any of this, not when his mate needed him.
The man in the control room cowered back as he approached, and Zardan towered over him. Hefting his staff, he looked down at the human with contempt. The others had at least tried to fight him. This one simply cowered.
"Where is she?" Zardan roared at him. "Where is my Gillian?"
21
Gillian
Gillian's father was the first of them to reach for a pen. It was a reluctant move, and it broke Gillian's heart to see it, but she couldn't argue with it. Looking away from him, she reached for her own pen and copy of the contract.
She noticed her fingers trembling as she lifted the pen, almost as though she was watching someone else's hands. Everything felt so distant, and she could hardly hear Danforth's sigh of relief over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears. With an effort, she brought the pen down to the paper, but she couldn't make herself sign her name.
Karaos' warning growl cut through her fugue and she looked up to see his eyes narrowing. The hate there was almost a physical force, and she could see that he didn't like having to rely on humans.
"What will happen to us once we sign?" she asked, more to buy time than for an answer. It wasn't as though she'd trust what they told her, anyway.
"You'll get your money and go on your way, of course," Danforth said smugly. But Gillian waved him to silence, not taking her eyes off the dragon shifter.
"I don't care what he says," she told Karaos. "What will you do with us?"
The slight smile that tugged at his lips told her that she'd been right. He didn't intend to let them go.
"You're annoyingly clever for a human," Karaos said. "I can almost see why Zardan likes you so much. Very well. You get to go free with the money, and my promise of your safety as long as you don't cause us any trouble."
"Swear it," she insisted. "Swear by your Thousand Suns."
Karaos bared his teeth at her, no longer amused. "Fine. By the Thousand Suns and the honor of my family, and by the Dragon Throne, I swear it. As long as you never speak of this or trouble me again, you are safe."
Gillian's hand trembled, the pen brushing the page. She bit down on her emotions. Is it even worth living if Zardan's dead? But it wasn't just her life on the line. For that, she might have spited Karaos and Danforth.
But if she'd already lost her dragon, she couldn't condemn her father and her brother too. Swallowing, she pressed the nib of the pen down and started to write. And that was when all hell broke loose.
The door exploded inward, torn from its hinges by the impact of one of Danforth's hired guards. Following him into the room came Zardan, bloody and battered but very much alive. In his hand he carried a long length of torn pipe, and before anyone could respond he flung it like a spear at Karaos.
The other dragon shifter leaped aside, his instincts faster than Gillian could follow. But he wasn't quite fast enough: instead of striking his heart, the jagged metal caught one of his wings and pinned it to the wall
"Gillian," Zardan called out as the others began to move. "Behind me!"
With that, he leaped forward into the fray.
The guards, taken by surprise by his sudden entry, scrambled to meet him. The first took a powerful punch to the face before he could get ready, sending him flying onto the table with a crash. The next grabbed for Zardan's arm, only to be swung effortlessly into the wall. Gillian stared at the easy grace with which Zardan moved and fought.
It was beautiful and awesome, a smo
oth and controlled whirlwind of battle which put himself between her and those who would do her harm. Battered as he was, he didn't let his injuries slow him as he laid into the enemy.
At the far end of the room, Danforth struggled to his feet, reaching under his jacket. Time seemed to slow for Gillian as she saw the gun in his hand. It was a huge pistol, heavy and slow to draw, and Gillian's heart almost stopped as he brought it up. The roar of a shot filled the room, deafening, and the bullet tore through the space Zardan had occupied a moment before.
He's too fast for Danforth, she thought. Prayed. But Danforth saw that too, and as the muzzle of his pistol dropped towards her she realized his plan.
He might not be able to hit Zardan, but he'd have no trouble hitting her. And Zardan wouldn't allow that. He was already moving, leaping between her and the gun, and she knew he'd take a bullet for her without complaint.
And she couldn't let that happen. Zardan couldn't sacrifice himself for her. So she did the only thing she could think of, jumping forward and trying to shove Zardan aside.
The heavy gold pen was a weight in Gillian's hand as she swung her arm up, and she let it go by instinct. Then Zardan's weight sent her flying, and the gun roared again. Gillian felt a tug at her arm, and for a moment wondered what it was. Her attention was on the pen which seemed, to her stretched perception of time, to tumble slowly end over end across the room. The pen was heavier than the ones she was used to, but her aim was true. She winced and looked away as the point struck Danforth's eye.
Then time snapped back to normal, and she sprawled on the floor. Danforth sat down with a howl of pain, the gun dropping from his hand, and Zardan shouted with rage. Karaos finally managed to pull his wing free of the improvised spear pinning him, snarling a challenge at Zardan.
"You puny whelp," Karaos shouted, ignoring his ally's cries of agony. "You'll pay for this."
"You've hurt my mate," Zardan said, in a steady low voice. "I will give you one chance to surrender. Take it, or I will kill you."
Karaos' only answer was a furious roar, and the two dragon shifters leaped at each other. The clash was too fast for Gillian to follow, and she scrambled back as the pair of warriors lashed out at each other. Her father grabbed her, dragging her back, holding her tight and looking at her arm in horror. Gillian glanced down too, feeling her face pale as she saw the bloodied torn sleeve. Swallowing she pulled it up to see the wound.
The bullet had scraped her arm, just barely tearing the flesh. If Zardan hadn't knocked me aside, she thought with a shiver and then stopped. No good would come of finishing that thought.
"Who is that?" her father whispered as they huddled behind the overturned table. Gillian felt torn between hiding and watching the fight in front of them. The fight that would determine whether they lived or died — she knew better than to think that they'd escape with their lives if Zardan lost here.
That decided her, and she shrugged off her father's grip to peer over the upturned table. As she watched, Karaos smashed into Zardan shoulder-first, the impact sending them both into the wall with enough force to shake the room.
"Zardan," she gasped, grabbing her father's hand for reassurance. His fingers squeezed hers.
The impact hadn't knocked the fight out of Zardan. With a great heave, he threw Karaos off and drove his enemy back, punch by punch. Karaos blocked each blow, but they were taking their toll. Both dragons slowed as they fought, exhausted and drained by the battle. Gillian resisted the urge to cheer for her man, not wanting to draw attention to her hiding place, but under her breath she muttered a prayer.
"You can't win," Karaos hissed as the two circled each other. "You're tired, injured. I'm fresh. And I could always take you in a fair fight anyway."
Zardan growled, but the other dragon continued. "Flee, and I will let you live. I just need the ship."
"You have threatened and hurt my mate," Zardan said. The flat anger in his voice was frightening enough to make Gillian pale, and even Karaos looked unsure of himself. "I will not leave until you are—"
Mid-sentence, he charged, catching Karaos off guard. Ducking low, Zardan caught Karaos around the waist, lifting him and carrying him forward. Karaos roared in shock and surprise, raising his hands and beating them down on Zardan's damaged wings. Zardan's grunt of pain made Gillian wince, but he didn't slow or weaken his grip, even as Karaos drew blood. Instead, he set his course and accelerated.
Gillian saw his plan and her hands went to her mouth as Zardan, with a final agonized shout, threw Karaos back against the wall and the spear that was still embedded in it. Karaos' cries cut off as his momentum carried him onto the pipe and pushed it through him. One ragged end of the improvised spear protruded from his chest, leaving him pinned to the wall like a murderous draconic butterfly.
Zardan slumped to the ground, chest heaving and energy spent. Around him, fallen foes littered the ground, and Gillian clambered out from under the overturned table to run to him.
"Zardan," she gasped, putting her arms around him. "Are you alright?"
He laughed, a hard, ragged sound. "As long as I've protected you, everything is fine."
Gillian hugged him tighter, feeling her heart swell. But above them, with a wet gurgling sound, Karaos laughed too. Blood poured from the wound in his chest, and he didn't move, but the sinister sound of his laughter filled the room.
"Don't celebrate yet," he managed to force out. "You may have taken my life, but I will have my revenge upon you both."
"What the hell do you mean?" Gillian's father demanded, stepping out from behind the table warily. Karaos pulled his gaze up, looking him in the eye as Gillian listened with a growing sense of horror.
"Sarax is already on his way to kill your brat," Karaos answered in a hateful hiss. "I ordered him to go unless I told him not to."
He groaned, blood bubbling from his lips, and slumped down on the spear. The light dimmed in his eyes, but the smirk stayed on his lips even as his breathing slowed. He forced out his last words. "I die, but I... still... win."
Having used the last of his breath to spit his final taunt, he fell silent and still.
Gillian gasped in fear, her arm tightening around Zardan as the cold dread set in again.
22
Zardan
Looking up at his mate, Zardan tried to focus past the pain. That last fight had reopened his wounds and he could feel the blood trickling down his back. But he'd done it. He'd beaten Karaos and saved Gillian.
Only now, it seemed, that might not be enough after all.
"What has he done?" Zardan asked as he pulled himself to his feet. Gillian tried to steady him, supporting his weight.
"He sent his other dragon shifter, Sarax, after Harry!" Gillian's voice was near panic, and Zardan shook his head. No. He could not permit that.
"I'll stop him," he promised. "He won't reach the farm."
"You can't! You're too badly hurt, you can't shift!" Gillian clung to his arm as he pulled himself towards the door. He looked back with a crooked smile at her perseverance — even injured, he was more than strong enough to pull her along with him, no matter how hard she struggled to stop him. But that wouldn't stop his mate from trying.
Nothing would keep her from protecting him, just as nothing could keep him from saving her. They were mates, after all.
Gently but firmly he pulled her hands away. It hurt to let go of her, but he had no choice. He couldn't stand by and let her suffer, let Harry die. And there was no one else here who could stop Sarax. It has to be me.
"I can, and I will," he told her firmly. "I promised you that I'd save your family, and what kind of a dragon would I be if I didn't honor my oath?"
"A live one," Gillian snapped, tears glistening in her eyes. "I don't want to lose you, Zardan. I thought you were dead for a minute there, and it was the worst minute of my life."
The sight of her pain drove a spike into Zardan's soul, but he couldn't let it stop him. If she must lose someone, let it be me. I've got little
enough left in me, and Harry has his whole life ahead of him.
"You won't lose me," he said aloud, wincing at the lie. It wasn't exactly untrue, he didn't want to die, but with his injuries his chances of survival were slim. That didn't matter, though. Gillian wasn't going to lose her brother the way he had lost his family.
"I could ask you to swear it," Gillian said, her voice thick with tears. "But I know that you wouldn't. So instead, I'll give you my blessing. Go and get that bastard."
Kissing him on the lips, she held him tight for a moment, and he could almost feel her sorrow and her love pressing against him. Then she let go and stood back, cheeks wet as she turned away.
Steeling himself, he stood tall and straight. The pain was almost too much to bear, but he couldn't show weakness in front of Gillian. Not now. Let her last memory of him be of a glorious warrior on his way to battle.
Turning his back on her tears was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but he managed it.
The cold bit into Zardan's skin as he stepped out of the airlock again. He ignored it, ignored everything but the weight of his responsibility to Gillian. The thought of her put a smile on his face and he focused on that feeling, trying to ignore the inevitable pain of shifting.
It was agony. As though someone poured molten iron down his back. Or tore his wings apart. Or...
There were no words for it. Nothing could have prepared Zardan for that moment. But he held the image of Gillian in his mind, the knowledge that his mate needed him to do this, and the pain passed. Faded to a nagging ache that flared again as he tentatively flexed his wings.
I can do this. For her.
Getting airborne was the worst part of it. He leaped skyward, spreading his wings and catching the energy fields that surrounded Mars. His weight landed on his injured wings and he nearly passed out as he beat them, rising higher and higher and turning north.
Later, he promised himself. When Sarax is dead and Gillian's family is safe. Then I can rest.
