by Alan Marble
They would wrap it up by flying back to the vans, assisting the elder if he was in need of it. With any luck they would be back on their way to Tahoe before the Syndicate even knew something was wrong.
There was no discussion afterward. Carolus adjourned the meeting and the group filed out the door where a trio of plain white vans waited to whisk them away. Whether by intent or some circumstance, Jonah wound up in a van with no one he knew and only Jenna to continue scowling at him. Though she did not speak a word to him the entire trip, her disdain for him was palpable; he could not help but to wonder if he had violated some deeper taboo than simply disagreeing with her.
The route they traveled took them along the foot of the Sierra Nevada range, and for the next few hours Jonah got to watch out the window at the passing mountain peaks, giant granite sentinels to the west that loomed over them along the entire trip. Grand and majestic, he thought that he should be somehow more stricken with awe at the sight. Perhaps another time he would, in other circumstances.
For now, however, he could not afford to do more than glance at them a little morosely through the window of the van. Once more he was being dragged along, no longer actively in control of his destiny. Once more, he was being pulled toward something unknown, and he hated it.
The vans stopped briefly in a small town called Bishop to refuel before heading south along the highway, then turning east. It soon became clear to Jonah why they had left so early in the morning in spite of the night raid ahead of them : the vans soon turned off the highway and onto a dirt road, forced to slow down considerably. Though the mountains that the little road wound between were nowhere near as tall as the granite peaks to the west, their progress was nevertheless sluggish, passing through narrow valleys and over rather precarious looking switchbacks.
After what seemed like forever, the vans reached their apparent destination. The road straddled a high pass between mountain peaks, empty and deserted valleys stretching out in every direction. As Jonah made his way out of the van, following the others, he shaded his eyes against the light of the setting sun, looking for some sign of the compound they were to raid, some sign of civilization. He saw none.
Carolus led a sort of informal procession up a stubby little outcropping of rock, his hair whipping slightly in the breeze as he looked out into the valley ahead of him. Jonah followed, hanging toward the back, coming just close enough to hear the old man speak. “We all know our duties in this, my brothers and sisters. Do not forget that we do this for the sake of our clan and its future. While I expect our plan to unfold smoothly it is not without risk. Please, everyone, be on your guard and to not underestimate the foe. I would like to see every one of us here return safely to the mansion tonight.”
Again the wind whipped at his hair, Jonah imagining that it was somehow snatching the old man’s words away and spilling them down the side of the mountains, where they would be lost in the valley below; the whole landscape made him feel strangely alone, even among the crowd, as if he might be swallowed up by it, never to be seen again.
The old man paused a moment to look over the assembled group, nodding. “There is no need to hesitate. We fly.” With that he turned, leaping from the edge of the outcropping, his body stretching and shifting into the shape of the massive gray dragon that had been hovering over him for so many days. Carolus’ wings caught the wind easily, sailing off to the south, silhouetted against the dying light.
One by one the others followed suit, some jogging, some running along the length of the rock outcropping before leaping out, arms spread, each quietly assuming his or her true form, and before long there were almost a dozen dragons, wings outstretched, gliding and flapping their way over the mountains. The sight was absolutely surreal.
“Let’s not stand around waiting here all night, I’d rather not get lost and have to find my way back on my own.”
Jonah assumed he had been the last to hold back, and was startled to see Rebekah standing behind him, her hands on her hips. Blinking at her, he stammered, “Rebekah … you’re still here?”
“Yeah. Guess who has been tasked with watching your ass to make sure you don’t get into trouble.”
He cringed again at the ire that was lining her voice. “Sorry,” he muttered weakly.
She responded only by thrusting her finger outward in the direction of the departing dragons. “Look, you can apologize and grovel all you want later. I’m dead serious when I say that I don’t want to get lost out here. Get your tail in motion before we lose sight of them or else.”
Jonah would have to wait until later to feel sorry for himself, he supposed. She was right, after all; the other dragons were already beginning to fade into the distance, hard to see in the failing light, and he had no idea where they were supposed to be heading. Sucking down a deep breath, he threw himself at the edge of the outcropping, arms spread wide, and let the wind take him.
SIXTEEN
Fifteen miles passed with surprising speed, flying over the hills and mountains. It was a short, uneventful flight, no more than half an hour, with nothing other than the occasional fit of turbulence spilling over some of the taller peaks to shake him up a bit. Even in the waning dusk light, the sight of the landscape rising and falling beneath him, the rush of mountains covered in rock and brush was something of a breathtaking sight. Flying over a lake was fun, he supposed, but it lacked the impact that flitting around a towering mountain peak could make.
As quick as their flight was, night was even quicker in hastening itself along. Were it not for the half moon hanging overhead he might have lost sight of the other dragons altogether; as it was, he saw them more as inky shadows against the faintly lit night ahead of him, dancing over the hills and mountains, following along in a sort of grim procession.
The mountains abruptly gave way to a broad, open valley a few miles across. Tucked away at one end of the valley was a small lake positioned just right to catch the rays of the moon, briefly transforming into a gleaming argent mirror on the ground, the rest of the valley cast in the strange bluish light of the moon. Opposite the lake was the compound, their destination. Jonah leaned a bit to the left to head that way, aware of the other dragons now flapping in slow circles high above it.
Jonah could count four shadows dropping out of the air to swoop downward before they became too indistinct to see. The compound itself looked rather out of place in the remote valley, a large, sprawling structure that was a dark, blocky shape against the otherwise featureless earth. Though he could not see it in the dark, he knew that a fence surrounded the perimeter of the compound, a hint of something rectangular off to the side suggesting where the guard shack might be.
The outline of the building itself was given away by the series of lights on the exterior, but Jonah was too high to see what else might have been down there. Settling into a nice circular pattern, keeping a comfortable distance from the nearest dragons, he let his wings scoop up the air and keep him aloft, gliding lazily while he kept his eyes downward, peeled open in anticipation of the sign.
It didn’t take long. No more than five minutes after they arrived, a brief plume of dragon fire rose up from one side of the building. Somehow seeing that signal made the whole thing suddenly seem a lot more real, and Jonah felt strangely energized. He had not been looking forward to this, but now that it was under way, now that his role in the mission was to be played, he could not help but to feel some small hint of excitement.
He was, after all, a part of something now. Something real, something important. Something dangerous.
One by one the dragons landed in the dirt next to the building, almost immediately shifting into human form. It was a technique he had not quite mastered, the art of landing, rearing up on his hind legs and shifting all at once. Done properly it was a fluid, flawless transition that could enable a dragon to land on his feet, running. Jonah, in spite of his best efforts, could not keep himself from tumbling forward, nearly falling on his face before hopping back up to his
feet.
The others noticed, of course, but no one said anything, and the embarrassment he felt heating his cheeks quickly fled, replaced by the rush of adrenaline as he watched a series of silent hand signals being made. The group was being split into three, just as planned.
Carolus quickly singled out three dragons who came to his side, with Abe doing much the same. The rest, himself and Rebekah included, were called over to Jenna with a brief flick of her wrist. Any irritation she felt at him before would have no place here, as she did not so much as let one stray scowl fire off in his direction. Once the groups had been formed the three split apart, Jenna leading the way in a quick jog around the corner.
From here, the compound did not look so imposing but was still out of place in the otherwise empty valley floor. It was as tall as a three story building but lacked distinctive windows, giving it an appearance more akin to a warehouse than anything else. Lights placed every several feet kept the sides of the building illuminated, but there was no sign of any guards.
For a moment, Jonah found himself curious as to how they had been handled.
He wouldn’t have much time to think about it, however. After another moment, Jenna came to an abrupt stop in front of a large door that looked to have been pried open forcibly, claw marks evident in the metal siding. Signaling everyone to gather around, she spoke up quietly, her voice harsh all the same. “Listen up, we’ve only got one shot at this. If anyone sounds the alarm, it might mean disaster for the elder. Let’s make sure no alarms are sounded.
“Stay close to me. We’re not sure what kind of resistance to expect here, but security should be light. We don’t think they have any dragons working for them here, but there might be mages among the human guards.”
Jonah felt a sudden sinking sensation in his stomach. No one had mentioned to him before that the Syndicate might be employing some kind of magic against them, and nothing in his training had brought that up, either. He had no idea what he should do in a situation like that. He wanted to protest, but a soft touch on his shoulder pulled him back a bit; it was Rebekah.
“Don’t panic, Jonah. Just stay close. I’ve got your back.”
He wanted to argue that panic was exactly what he was about to do. All of his his training had been focused on fighting in dragon form - aerial combat, flying maneuvers, how to land correctly. They were about to go into a building, on foot, where such training would be absolutely useless to him, and he hadn’t been given any kind of weapon at all. He knew nothing at all about hand to hand combat.
Suddenly the entire thing seemed absolutely absurd, again. He had no place here, he had nothing to bring to the group, he added nothing to their effort. He wanted to protest, wanted to say that he should stay behind, but he could not. With a grim nod, Jenna darted her way into the building, and he followed behind as if he had no other choice.
If the compound resembled a warehouse on the outside it was for good reason. Once inside they found themselves very much inside of a warehouse, or at least a portion of the building that was one. With only the emergency exit lights on Jonah could not see very far or in much detail, but it was enough to make out several rows of boxed items on pallets, some larger items covered in sheets or tarps. He wondered what this place was normally used for, what on earth they could have been storing out here in the middle of nowhere.
Jenna kept the group of them close to one wall of the warehouse, skirting around the corner rather than crossing the wide open space in the middle. They moved in near silence but there was nothing to compete with them, nothing else moving. In fact, Jonah thought that the warehouse had a slightly musty, disused odor.
It didn’t make much sense to him.
On the far side of the large open space they came across a stairway angling up to a door above, and this was where they were headed. Their footfalls seemed to echo more harshly on the steel grating of the steps, but there was no sign at all that they had been heard. One by one they filed their way up the stairs and through the door into a cramped hallway beyond.
The hall was even darker than the cavernous warehouse they had just left. Dim emergency lighting was just enough for Jonah to make out a few doors on the left before the hall opened up into a larger room beyond. As they made their way into that room, passing by a small bank of cubicles, he realized that the compound seemed to resemble some kind of office and warehouse building he might expect to see in an industrial complex.
Again he thought it seemed to be wholly out of place here, in the middle of the mountains, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the country miles from any city. It was making less and less sense as they went on.
“Something isn’t right.”
Though the sentiment mirrored his own the words did not come from Jonah’s mouth. A man with whom he had not been acquainted, a muscular, balding man who looked to be in his mid forties, had been the one to whisper into the deathly silence around them.
They all paused, Jenna turning around to shoot the man a fairly harsh look, but remained where she was for the moment. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, something is not right about this. Where are the guards? If this is truly a Syndicate compound, where have they all gone? This place seems abandoned.”
“Carolus told us it would be lightly defended,” she offered, sounding less than confident in her own answer.
“Lightly defended?” The man spoke in an incredulous fashion, shaking his head. “Undefended seems more like it.”
She seemed to consider his response for a moment, eyeballing the others one by one before glancing around again. “I must admit this is not what I had been made to expect. Something feels wrong but I don’t know what it is. Still, I don’t see that we have any choice but to continue onward.”
It was Rebekah who voiced her concern, then. “And if they have been alerted, already? They could be expecting us. They could be lying in wait, it could be an ambush.”
“Perhaps,” Jenna said, wearing that perpetual scowl as she looked on ahead. “In that case we’ll just have to stay on our guard. Keep an eye out behind us for anyone who might be following. Let’s move.”
The thought that they might be walking into some kind of ambush made Jonah’s skin crawl, made the fear rise up in his throat anew. Once again he was keenly aware that the was without weapons and without any ability to fight in this state. Though he would never have admitted it, he was suddenly rather glad that Rebekah was the one pulling up the lead and not himself.
Their route through the compound took them through a few turns in the otherwise unremarkable halls of the building, each one as dark and abandoned feeling as the last. Twice they stopped to check the side rooms, each time finding the doors unlocked, the rooms either completely empty or filled with items that had not been disturbed in some time. Each time there was a growing sense of frustration in the group, and each time Jonah felt that things were going more and more awry, ever more certain that something was, indeed, very wrong.
Finally, as they rounded another corner, there was some change. Jenna brought them all to a halt with a silent gesture of her fist, then pointed at a door down the hall whose frame was illuminated from light within, more light than could be explained by simple emergency lighting. There was no sound from the room, and no sound in the hallway, but Jonah could feel his heart beginning to thump in his chest as they moved forward again, slowly and carefully, nearing the door.
Surrounding the door, two on each side, they waited and listened. Though there was no sound he could swear that his heart was beating loud enough to be heard, rattling in his chest, thumping as Jenna counted down from five silently, waving her hand in the air : five fingers, four, three, two, one …
Kicking the door open without otherwise making a sound, the woman twisted around and all but jumped in beyond the door, the balding man just behind her. Jonah gasped when he felt himself being shoved from behind, right through the doorway, waving his arms in front of him as he flailed in the sudden brightness of the l
ight.
The room was empty, just as the others had been, with one important exception. In the center of the room, positioned exactly beneath a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling, was a simple wooden chair. Tied to that chair was a man.
He was old, well past middle age and into the golden years of his life. Wispy strands of white hair fell at either side of his face, unkempt and a bit wild. The face that his hair framed was gaunt and sallow, tired looking skin stretched over his cheekbones in a way that made his eyes look sunken in, dark eyes glazed and unfocused as they flitted back and forth. Several days of stubble had grown over the creases and wrinkles of the man’s cheeks, his nascent beard holding the dried remnants of drool running down one corner of his mouth, his cracked lips quivering around words that would not form themselves.
Jonah didn’t have to be told to know that this man was the one they were looking for; he was the clan elder. Whatever clothing he might have normally worn had been stripped away and he had been dressed in a plain gray shift that hung loosely around his shoulders. The man looked positively emaciated, his arms little more than bony spindles held behind the chair with rope. He looked to have been starved, neglected, or worse.
After only a momentary hesitation, Jenna moved right up to the man’s side, kneeling on the floor and reaching back to start untying his bonds. “Elder! It’s me, Jenna. We’re here to rescue you,” she whispered, freeing his hands before gripping him gently by the chin and twisting his head lightly to the side. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
He didn’t respond. Jonah watched as the bald man turned back to the door, poking his head outside and keeping guard while Rebekah joined Jenna at the elder’s side; Jonah could do little more than stand off to the side, out of the way, feeling rather useless.
