Dragon Warrior

by Shéa MacLeod

  So, they’d lost men out there. Even a Dragon Warrior, from the sounds of it. Like most people, Rain had never been entirely sure they existed, though Sutter had claimed he’d seen one a few years back. Complete with diamond-edged blade, the only thing that could slice through dragon hide.

  Rain shoved thoughts of Sutter aside. She felt guilty enough she had to leave his body behind for Barnes to do god knew what with it. She did a little silent cussing of her own.

  Back to the subject at hand. Escape.

  She couldn’t get out through the bay, but she figured there had to be another way out of the base. They had to pump air in from somewhere. That meant there must be a vent to the surface.

  Turning around she headed back down the duct until she came to the next junction. Without knowledge of the layout, she could easily spend all day wandering around lost. She needed a plan. She needed to be smart.

  She licked her finger and held it up at the junction. There was the faintest of breezes. Right. It came from the right.

  Continuing down the right duct, Rain wormed her way through the system. It was slow work. The duct was so low she could only squirm on her belly using her arms to pull herself forward. And she was constantly aware of the need for silence. The slightest sound could give her position away. She’d have a Marine platoon on her ass in seconds.

  She continued through the ductwork, stopping at each junction for the finger test. Slowly she worked her way deeper and deeper into the base. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

  At last she came to a dead end. A grate lay straight in front of her. And on the other side of the grate?

  Nothing.

  All she could see was immense blackness, but she could feel wind on her face, smell fresh air. There must be some sort of air shaft on the other side of that grate. And an air shaft had to lead to the surface.

  Rain tested the grate. It was screwed down tight. Not a bit of give. No amount of pushing with her hands made any difference and she didn’t have any tools. The Marines had taken her screwdriver.

  Her legs were far more powerful than her arms, but there was no way she could turn around in the tight duct. Only one option left.

  She wormed her way backward down the way she’d come until she reached the closest junction. It took some doing, but she managed to get herself flipped around so she was headed back down the duct feet first.

  It seemed to take hours and by the time she got back to the grate, her muscles were burning and sweat was dripping off her body. Maybe she should have just waited for the Marines to leave the bay. It was too late now. And anyway, they most likely would have left someone guarding the bay. She’d have never gotten out unseen. Rain allowed herself to rest for a few minutes before turning her attention to the grate.

  The first kick did nothing. She just didn’t have enough leverage. She needed to get the grate off quick. There was no telling how far the sound traveled. The Marines could be on their way already, for all she knew.

  Rain scooted forward a bit more, curled her legs up, and then kicked out as hard as she could. This time the grate loosened. Another kick and one of the screws snapped off. A couple more kicks and the grate fell away into the darkness. She didn’t even hear a clank which meant the bottom was a long way down.

  Now she had a problem. She’d gotten the grate off, but since she was feet first, she had no way of knowing what was in the shaft. It wasn’t like she could use her hands to feel around for a ladder or whatever yet scooting back down to the junction would take ages. Not to mention energy she didn’t have.

  Logic dictated that there was some way to climb up and down the shaft. Whoever built the place had to have a way in and out. Not to mention a way to conduct maintenance.

  Rain carefully scooted forward until she could get her feet and calves over the edge of the duct. She kicked back gently until her boot connected with the wall of the shaft, then she moved her foot around. Back and forth, up and down, trying to find something, anything, that would indicate there was a ladder of some sort.

  Nothing.

  Growling in frustration, she shifted so she could feel first the left side, then the right. Her foot connected with some kind of protrusion. That had to be it.

  Rain rolled over onto her stomach and scooted a little further down so her legs were hanging over empty space, her butt sticking up in the air, her hands braced against the wall of the duct on either side of her. Dear god, she hoped she was right. Otherwise she was totally fucked.

  Her right foot scrabbled for purchase, finally connecting with what was definitely some kind of step or rung. Foot firmly in place, she scooted back a little further so she could tuck her left knee up and wedge it against the side of the duct. Next came the tricky part.

  She tucked her right foot down under the rung, wedging it in good. Hopefully it would prevent her joining the grate at the bottom of the shaft should she miscalculate.

  Scooting back a little further, Rain reached out with her right hand, feeling up and down the wall of the shaft until her hand hit another rung. Holding on tight she un-tucked her foot and planted it firmly onto the rung. Then she swung the rest of her body out into space.

  For a moment she hung there, suspended over nothingness. Then she grabbed onto the rung with her left hand. Breathing hard, she hung on for a moment before slowly, slowly feeling her way to the next rung and the next. All the way to the top.

  RAIN HAD NO IDEA HOW long she’d been in the shaft. It seemed like days. Years, maybe. One minute she was climbing in the pitch black, and the next she realized she could just make out the pale blur of her hands on the rung in front of her.

  She glanced up to see a slice of daylight. “Thank you,” she breathed fervently to whoever was listening.

  The glimpse of freedom gave her the boost she needed to keep going. Energy renewed, she picked up speed until she finally reached the top. And another grate.

  “What is it with grates in this place?”

  On the off chance, she pressed her palm against the grate and gave it a shove. The grate opened fairly easily, though the hinges gave a small squeak of protest and flakes of rust rained down on her head. Smiling, Rain heaved the grate all the way back and climbed out of the shaft, sprawling face first onto the dirt.

  Every muscle in her body was twitching and shaking. Beyond overworked. Beyond exhausted.

  Staggering to her feet, she dropped the gate back into place and took stock of her surroundings. The exit to the shaft lay not in the valley, but on the hillside. No wonder it had taken ages to climb.

  The grate was nicely concealed from view and from the elements by a large boulder, several scrubby low bushes, and a stunted juniper. It was only a few feet from where she’d been hiding earlier.

  Rain almost laughed. If she’d only known she could have avoided the tromp across the valley and the risk of exposure, not to mention cracking the Marine over the head.

  She crouched behind a rocky outcrop and checked out the base below. It was a hive of activity.

  Marines were milling around, combing the surrounding valley. Obviously, they were looking for her tracks. She wished them luck with that. There weren’t any tracks to find.

  Two Humvees shot out of the parking bay and took off in different directions. One headed toward Fossil and the other headed north. Damn. Not good. Her options were limited to one. And without so much as a bottle of water, the chances of surviving were slim. Still, she’d rather give up the ghost than return to the tender mercies of Barnes and Lee.

  With one last glance back at the base, she squared her shoulders and headed into the desert.

  THE SUN HAD REACHED its zenith and had begun a slow slide down the sky when Rain stumbled on to the still smoking ruins of the Humvee. The ground was littered with the bodies of dead Marines. At least a half dozen. Maybe more. It was hard to tell. They were mostly burned lumps of meat, barely recognizable as human.

  Rain could tell she was dehydrated. Her vision was starting
to blur, and her mouth felt like it was stuffed full of wool.

  She glanced over what was left of the bodies, but if any of their kit had survived, it had been stripped. She staggered over to the vehicle and carefully touched the hood. It was hot, but not dangerously so. The paint had been completely burned off and the interior of the vehicle was nothing but a smoking ruin. Rain could only hope what she needed inside the Humvee was still intact.

  She popped the hood and gave the coolant reservoir a slight jiggle. A small bit of liquid sloshed inside. How it had survived dragon attack and blistering heat was beyond her guess and frankly she didn’t give a damn. She just wanted the water.

  She managed to detach the reservoir and pull it out of the engine. There was only about an inch of water on the bottom and it was almost hot enough for coffee, but it would have to do.

  She took careful sips of the hot water, letting it sit on her tongue before swallowing it down. It tasted disgusting, like motor oil and hot metal, but it would keep her alive and that was all that mattered.

  She eyeballed the sun’s position in the sky before scanning the surrounding terrain. She was no more than a couple hours from the compound. Thank goodness for that. She could use a drink, a bath and about twelve hours sleep.

  That was when she heard it. What sounded like a moan. She whirled toward the sound. Nothing moved.

  She frowned. She was sure she’d heard ... there it was again. She moved toward the sound.

  She checked each of the bodies more carefully. Dead. Definitely dead. No way around that. Half of them were burned to a crisp and the other half ... she stumbled to a halt.

  One of the bodies lay twisted on the ground, covered in soot and blood. He looked dead except for one thing. A pair of bright, blue eyes stared back at her.

  Chapter 10

  WITH A GRUNT, RAIN dragged the injured man toward the tiny patch of shade next to the Humvee. She managed to move him about half a foot.

  “You weigh a ton. You know that?”

  He didn’t answer. He’d passed out the minute she’d tried to move him. She couldn’t blame him. The pain had to be excruciating.

  Normally she wouldn’t have bothered, but he wouldn’t last if she left him lying in the sun. She had no more than a swallow of water left to give him. Nothing to cover him with. His only chance of survival was to leave him in the shade of the vehicle and keep her fingers crossed while she ran for help.

  She finally got him dragged into the shade and paused for a breather. “You owe me, you know.” She glanced down at the unconscious man. His features were impossible to make out under the layer of gunk, but the memory of his brilliant blue eyes was burned into her brain.

  “You are an idiot, Rain Mauri,” she mumbled to herself. He was a Marine, for god’s sake, and she was saving his ass because of a pair of pretty blue eyes. Idiot didn’t half cover it.

  Hauling herself to her feet she headed back to where she’d found him. Next to the dark stain of his blood lay a long, flat object made of what looked like dragon hide. She frowned and scooped it up.

  The shape was similar to a knife scabbard but much longer. What was obviously a handle poked out of one end, so she grabbed it and pulled.

  With a gasp she held the object up to the light. It was a sword. But not an ordinary sword. The edges of the blade glittered like a thousand diamonds.

  Diamonds. The only material on earth that could cut through dragon hide.

  She turned to stare at the Marine slumped in the shade of the Humvee. No ordinary Marine, then. The man was a Dragon Warrior.

  RAIN’S MIND WAS STILL buzzing as she reached the gates to the compound. A Dragon Warrior. A real, honest to god, Dragon Warrior. Elan was never going to believe it.

  The Turrow brothers were guarding the gates, their platinum blond hair hidden under grimy caps. The rifles strapped across their backs were pretty much useless against the drags. Still, all lookouts at Sanctuary were required to carry them.

  “Hey, boys. Know where El is?”

  “Where ya think?” Thirteen-year-old Joey Turrow’s cocky answer earned him a slap upside the head from his older brother.

  “Respect. She’s Tracker.” Billy Turrow was fifteen and far more mature than most men Rain knew. Probably because he’d been the only thing to stand between his younger brother and death for nearly a decade before they joined the compound. “Sorry, Rain. Haven’t seen El this morning. You might check with Padre Pedro. He’s over babying his tomatoes again.”

  “Thanks, Billy.”

  “Will.”

  “What?” She squinted up at him.

  “It’s Will, ma’am.”

  So the kid was growing up. “Fair enough. Thanks, Will.”

  The compound had several small patches of garden scattered anywhere something might grow. Even where the ground wasn’t viable Padre Pedro had lined up buckets and barrels and anything else that would hold dirt in order to coax a few more plants into growing. Thanks to Padre Pedro, they wouldn’t run out of vegetables any time soon.

  She found him on the far side of the compound crouched among his precious tomato plants carefully dripping water onto their roots. She could see his mouth moving and wondered if he was praying or talking to the plants. Knowing Padre Pedro, probably a little of both.

  “Padre.” She kept her voice soft.

  The priest glanced up, his weathered face creased in smiles. “Rain, my dear.” He slowly heaved himself up off the ground after a final word at the plants. He strode toward her, his posture and swiftness belying his age.

  Rain had no idea exactly how old Padre Pedro was, but she knew he’d already been well established in the priesthood when the Wars began. That had been over twenty-five years ago. He was still built like an ox, though, and just as strong.

  She smiled as he enveloped her in a hug. Padre Pedro was the closest thing to an actual father she’d ever had. “I have missed you,” he said, setting her back. “Did you find him?”

  “I did, but I wasn’t able to take him with me.”

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “All things for a reason.”

  “Even drags?” she said wryly. It was an ongoing argument with them.

  “Even drags.”

  She shook her head. “Have you seen El? I need his help.”

  Padre Pedro frowned. “Elan has been inebriated even more than usual these days. I’m afraid he won’t be of much help.”

  “How the hel...” She paused, glancing at Padre Pedro. He didn’t appreciate her foul language. “How does he expect to govern anything if he’s drunk half the dang time?”

  “Grief does strange things to a man, you know that. Women have always been the stronger sex.”

  Rain smirked at that.

  “Tell me, child. Maybe I can be of help, though I’m an old man.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Give me a break.”

  He laughed.

  “I found someone. Out in the desert. Badly injured but still alive. We need to get him back to the compound if he’s to survive.” She stopped and faced Padre Pedro. “He’s a Dragon Warrior.”

  Padre Pedro’s eyes widened. “A Dragon Warrior? I haven’t seen one of those in nearly a decade. Are you sure?”

  “I saw his sword.”

  “Diamond-edged blade?”

  She nodded.

  “My goodness. Talk about a miracle.” He stroked his chin, deep in thought.

  Rain didn’t rush him. It was his process. But she did note that the sun was sinking lower in the sky. They didn’t have much time.

  “Very well, you go gather supplies and I will have the boys bring out one of the carts. We meet at the gates in fifteen minutes.” The Padre’s voice was brisk. She’d often wondered why he didn’t lead them instead of El, but Padre Pedro had never been one to seek leadership, though others would have given it to him gladly. He preferred his tomatoes.

  Rain nodded and hurried toward the living area of the compound while Padre Pedro strode toward the garages. She t
ook the stairs down two at a time. Every minute that passed meant a minute closer to dark. And dark was when the drags came. They couldn’t afford to be out of the compound then.

  Rain grabbed her tracking satchel from her room before hitting the store rooms. As a Tracker she could take anything from store she felt was necessary for her mission.

  She grabbed some pre-filled water bottles, bandages, and alcohol. Then she hit the armory for weapons. There wasn’t much that would kill a drag, but she grabbed a side arm. It wouldn’t work against drags, but it would be effective should they run into bandits. Or Marines.

  She hesitated at the door, then turned and grabbed one of the grenades. Just in case. Maybe she’d get lucky twice.

  PADRE PEDRO HAD ONE of the small handcarts and was waiting at the gate. The carts were usually used by gatherers to haul back to the compound useful items the Trackers had found, but they were large enough to haul an injured man.

  She hoped the Dragon Warrior would prove just as useful. The compound could use a good fighter. If she could convince him to quit the Marines. She had no idea how to go about doing that or if it were even possible. Warriors were myths. Legends. Fairy tales made up to give people hope.

  Obviously, sometimes the fairy tales were true.

  The sun was still hot and brutal as they headed into the desert, but Rain knew they were fast running out of time. It would be a race against the sun to get the Warrior back to the compound before the dragons came out.

  She and Padre Pedro spoke little as she led them at a brisk pace toward the spot where she’d left the injured Warrior. She hurried over to where he lay in the shadow of the burned-out Humvee. Though unconscious, his pulse was still strong.

  “So, this is the lad.” Padre Pedro knelt beside her. “Looks a little worse for wear.” He pressed his own fingers against the Warrior’s throat. “Pulse is good. We definitely need to get him back to Sanctuary.”