by Cari Z
Stepping outside the city felt like entering a graveyard. The air was hushed, the usually persistent winter wind still for once. Evan shrugged his shoulders a few times to make sure everything was settled and that he could reach into his quiver without problems, then set off for the highway.
It had been years since his arrival, and the ground outside of Forge had suffered in the interim. Evan picked his way around big chunks of concrete as he headed down the makeshift path, testing carefully in places where things looked poorly reinforced. Scavs went this way, the map had indicated as much, but scavs also went out in groups. Evan was on his own, and if he fell down a fucking hole and broke his ankle, he would end up just as dead as if he got caught in the blast wave of the bomb.
He made it to the rise of the highway, the last place tall enough for him to get a good look back at Forge, and after a moment’s agonizing indecision, he glanced behind him. No one was watching him. The wall appeared abandoned.
Good. That was good, that was for the best. If some tired part of his heart had hoped to get a final glimpse of Lee’s golden hair, well, that part was a romantic fool. Evan turned away and devoted his attention to the path ahead. One mile—less, now. He could do that.
The wind wasn’t blowing, but that didn’t mean it was silent. Evan crept along the edge of a displaced section of road, head down, every sense at the ready as he moved. He was getting close to the first break, where the sinkhole was, and oh, smell that—the scent of rot and brine. Brine had no place in an isolated pool in Colorado, so it was definitely inhabited by something. Evan kept well away from the edge of the hole, but he was close enough to see the remnants of crix and maybe even a leech or two. Was it a serpent? A taniwha? He didn’t care to find out.
The second break in the road was another half a kilometer ahead. The nest of crix wasn’t until the third break, so if he got lucky he might avoid them all together. He moved as quickly as he dared, glancing a little too often at the sun as it crept toward the mountain range just west of the ruins. He had less than four hours to make it there, set the bomb—hopefully close enough to the monster to kill it but far away enough that he wouldn’t take the whole city down in the process—and try to get back. He couldn’t afford any distractions.
Shing-shing.
Evan swore in the silence of his own mind. Fuck, he was so close. If it was only a few of them, he could handle it. Hell, he could see the darkness of the second break from here, the unnatural depth of it, and feel the vibration of the monster at the other end of the tunnel driving itself into the wall. He would get there, he just had to take care of this crix first.
Shing-shing-shing.
Make that two crix.
Evan hoisted himself onto the broken overpass ten feet back. It wasn’t easy, carrying an extra thirty pounds the way he was, but once he was up there he immediately pulled an arrow and sighted for his prey. There—one, two, both smallish, no higher than his calf. He could handle them fast. He inhaled slowly as he set the arrow on the string, drew it back, exhaled, and released.
The arrow took one of the crix straight through the head, just as he’d intended. What he hadn’t intended was to fire the damn arrow so hard that it went all the way through the monster’s carapace and exited the other side with a clatter. The crix immediately fell on his dead companion, but the noise had already alerted more to the prey at hand. A bigger one, big as a mountain lion, showed up and butted the smaller one out of the way as it took over the carcass. Then another came. Then another.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan scowled as he considered his options. He could try to kill them all, but if the nest was already on the move, that wouldn’t help for long. He could try to slip away now, which might be his best option, but that little crix wasn’t going to keep the bigger ones satisfied for long. They didn’t resort to cannibalism unless there was nothing else around to eat, so they might start looking for him in that case.
Evan went with a mix of the two plans, drawing and firing two more arrows into the oncoming crix. One of them died instantly, the second was only wounded, but they pulled the rest of the group’s attention. He slipped back down off the overpass, crept to the edge of the tunnel, lowered himself down so that he was almost ready to drop—
And immediately pulled himself up again, his heart pounding staccato in his chest as a leech monster exited the tunnel jaws first, moving with surprising speed toward the cluster of ravenous crix. Two of them saw it coming and jumped at it, leg blades singing, but they could barely dent the creature’s thick hide. It had no problem destroying them, however, rolling on top of the closest one and sucking its head into its maw. The crix’s legs kicked fruitlessly for a moment, then quivered and went limp as the leech pulled more of it into its mouth.
The second crix kept attacking, almost unnoticed by the leech—at least, until two more crix joined it. Three on one was enough to at least be distracting, and the leech disengaged from the corpse it was chewing and swung around in the direction of the biggest of its attackers, snapping at its legs. More crix joined in, and when a second leech monster came sliding out of the tunnel, Evan knew he’d never get a better distraction than this. He glanced down over the edge of the tunnel again and saw nothing but occasional, broken shafts of light dotting the way where the mother monster had cracked the surface. He shut his eyes for a moment, then dropped down and began making his way into the shaft.
The tunnel itself was large enough to fit five or six of those leech monsters stacked on top of each other. That meant the big one was . . . really big. Evan counted his steps in his mind, doing his best to keep track of the distance even though really, anything short of being able to see the big one was going to be too far away. The air was stale in here, and the bottom of the tunnel was disconcertingly slick, like trying to balance on a frozen pond. After his third near-fall, Evan slung his bow across his back and continued with one hand on the wall, the other one holding onto the knife Charlie had given him. It was less secure, but he moved faster, and fast was more important than safe right now.
At least, it was until he saw one of the leeches trundling toward him through the gloom, slow but turning its head from side to side, as though scenting the air. Its mouth was still closed, taking away Evan’s best target. He couldn’t reverse—he’d never make it back to the entrance without giving himself away, and there were no fissures in the tunnel big enough for him to wriggle through. He needed to keep going forward and hope something came along soon. If this one was alone, he still had a chance.
It came closer, the size of a mule-drawn plow, its head swaying back and forth like a snake. Evan gauged the distance between them, the height he had overhead and the chances of falling flat on his face, and figured it was now or never.
Gathering himself, he took three long, running steps and leapt straight over the creature’s head. Its mouth opened as he passed above it, teeth gnashing as it twisted to try to catch him. Evan landed with one foot on its back and one on its tail, sending him crashing into a painful roll. He reached one hand out and grabbed the writhing end of the leech’s tail before it could get away, and fast as he could, plunged the double-edged knife into where he’d nailed his first kill with an arrow.
The leech erupted in a piercing growl. Its mouth was less than a foot from Evan’s head, but it raked its teeth over its wound instead of pursuing him. Of course, his damn hand was down there, and Evan barely pulled away in time to save his fingers. As it was, it felt like someone had dragged a fistful of razors through his skin.
The leech chomped at its own tail for a moment, trying to dislodge the knife, then rolled its head back toward Evan, mouth gaping balefully.
Evan fired an arrow straight down its throat, and this time there was no flailing—it died instantly, slumping over onto its side with a sound like air releasing from a balloon. He slumped down across from it, his draw hand still leaking blood.
Evan flexed his fist and grimaced. Painful, but it didn’t feel like he’d lost any tendons. H
e wanted to rest for a moment, catch his breath and bind his hand, but the monster’s cry had probably alerted others. There was just no time.
He pushed to his feet, jerked his knife out of the leech’s tail, wiped the thick saliva off as best he could, then sheathed it and continued down the tunnel. Screw worrying about falling, he was keeping his damn bow in hand from here on out.
Ten feet. Fifty feet. A hundred feet—he could feel the ground shake more underfoot with every step. He had to be getting close. How much farther should he push it? Wait until he could see the monster, or draw back a little and better his own chances of survival?
Something moved in the distance ahead. It was indistinct, but it seemed to fill the entire tunnel. The end of the monster? Was he already that close? Another ten steps and Evan got a better handle on what he was dealing with, and it chilled his blood.
The tunnel was filled with sacs stacked on top of each other. Most of them had already burst open, but some held pale, indistinct shapes that wriggled like giant maggots. It was a monster cradle, and there was no way Evan was going to creep his way through it. He’d have to get out and go around. There was a break in the tunnel about twenty feet back, probably big enough that he could squeeze through it if he took the pack holding the bomb off. He turned around and—
Lunged to the side to avoid the leech coming up behind him. How hadn’t he heard it? He fired at it, but its mouth was barely open, and the arrow didn’t penetrate. Evan jumped against the side of the tunnel and pushed off hard with his planted leg, getting over this one with a bit more grace than the first, but it immediately turned to follow him. Fighting wasn’t the best option; he needed to get out of here. The break was right ahead, and if he leapt, he could get his hands on the edge and pull himself up—
Shing. Evan released his grip with his right hand almost as soon as he’d made it, just barely missing the crix’s leg blade as it slashed down. He didn’t move fast enough, and screamed as the crix’s mandible sank into the meat of his thumb. Blood spattered his face, stinging his eyes. The leech gathered itself on its rear bulk and arched up, mouth seeking hungrily.
Fuck, this is it. But maybe Evan could still use the bomb, if he could just swing the pack around and shove the lighter down the hole. He groped for it, both hands burning, feeling the strength leave his left as the crix settled in to start eating him alive—
CRASH! The vibrations in the tunnel were nothing compared to the sudden shudder that rocked the entire structure. Evan lost his grip and fell, dislodging the crix and expecting to go from bad to worse, but no—the leech had moved off, attacking the enormous silver-clawed foot that had penetrated the tunnel.
Silver . . . foot? A dragon’s foot? But there were no silver dragons in Forge. What the hell?
Evan watched blearily as the leech was grabbed and crushed by those shining claws. Two more struck at it and were disposed the same way before the foot retracted. A moment later, a man dropped down beside Evan, but this was no rider. This person wore armor like Evan had never seen before, thick and scaly and glittering in the dying light like mica in a streambed. He wielded two long blades, each wickedly curved. His face was covered by a horned mask, except for his eyes, which glowed with a strange copper light.
He didn’t look at Evan, simply dispatched the next leech to arrive with a single perfect slice that cut straight through the monster’s thick hide and bisected its massive jaw from top to bottom. A crix jumped down, heading toward Evan, and the man cut it in half without even looking. Three more died similar deaths, and then the man—
Picked up the dead leech by the jaw with one hand and threw it, all six feet and five hundred pounds of it, from the rubble of the tunnel outside. The incoming crix went for the easier prey, and Evan barely had time to think That’s not possible before the man turned his way. For a second he was more frightening than any of the monsters he’d killed, his ridged, horned mask dark with blood and eyes glowing like righteous retribution.
Then the helmet simply . . . melted away, and so did the swords. A moment later, Lee was staring down at Evan with a worried expression on his long, familiar face. The only thing that stayed terrifying were his eyes, still copper but fading from molten to the glow of a penny polished with river sand. He dropped down onto his knees and stretched out a hand.
“Evan? Are you all right? Can you move?”
“Lee?” Were the leeches venomous? Was he hallucinating? “How . . . What . . . You’re . . .” Evan shook his head. “What are you?”
Lee reached over and picked Evan up as easy as a baby. “I’ll tell you everything, I swear. The time for hiding is over.” He leapt out of the tunnel, and crix scattered like a handful of thrown pebbles.
But he still had his mission. “The bomb. We have to—”
“I’ll take care of it.” Lee set Evan gently on his feet and pulled the pack from his back. “Can you stand without help?”
“Yes.” Although he wasn’t sure for how long—he was woozy from blood loss and pain, biting deeper as the adrenaline wore off.
“Good.” A sword appeared—just appeared—in Lee’s free hand, glowing like a coal. He stuck the tip of it in the ground and made a brisk circuit around Evan, leaving him inside a circle of fire that spread outward, crisping the ground with a layer of ash. The heat had to be intense, but Evan barely felt it where he was. Lee didn’t even seem to notice.
“Nothing will get at you while you’re in here,” he said. “I won’t be a minute.” He turned and vanished back inside the tunnel. Evan’s feet twitched, his whole body yearning to follow even though he knew he shouldn’t. He was in no condition to help anyone, and besides, what could he do for Lee, who was a . . . a . . . Evan still wasn’t quite sure, but the sudden longing he felt for the man was as painful as a missing limb.
How much time had passed? One minute? Two? The sunlight was almost gone now, and Evan was all alone—not even the crix were bold enough to bother him. He strained his eyes toward the darkness of the tunnel, waiting, wishing, and trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. Lee would come back. He had to come back. He had to—
A massive gout of flame shot out of the ground half a kilometer closer to Forge, rattling the tunnel and lighting it up with intense fire and heat. The bomb had gone off. But where was Lee? Where was he, where was he? The ground outside the circle was still hot but Evan was this close to disregarding the danger and going to look for him. He couldn’t be . . . There was no way he’d . . .
A figure walked out of the flames, and Evan forgot to breathe. It was Lee, lit up in his silver armor turned orange in the burning light. Evan barely even noticed that the ground has stopped shaking, or that the tunnel itself was slowly collapsing. Everything else faded to nothing in the face of Lee’s magnificence.
Lee reached for him and cradled Evan’s face in his hands. “Forge’s work is done, now it’s time for ours. You’re mine, Evan Luck. Let me take you home.”
There was still so much Evan didn’t understand, so much he wanted to know, but in that instant all he could do was lean into Lee’s gentle grip and sigh with utter relief. “Please,” he said, and Lee smiled before letting go and stepping back a pace.
One moment he was a man, and the next his slender body was replaced by the soaring majesty of a dragon, half again larger than Gorot and shining like a star. Great coppery eyes stared down at Evan like he was treasure, and Evan shuddered with the sudden surge of emotion that washed through him. This was Lee, and Lee loved him. As much as he needed to know, for now, that was enough.
Lee extended one clawed forefoot, and Evan stepped into the cradle of his palm without hesitation. Rather than lifting Evan onto his neck, Lee tucked him close to his chest as he beat his wings. He rose into the air, did a wide, triumphant loop of the ruins beneath them, and then turned in the direction of the stadium.
Evan, more content than he’d thought possible, finally let himself relax into unconsciousness.
Chapter Eight
Evan
woke up deliciously warm, like he’d fallen asleep in front of his forge instead of on his threadbare cot in a chilly, concrete room. It wasn’t just heat, though, it was pressure—a closeness that spanned his whole back, with one snug band around the middle. A person. Someone was holding him—Lee was holding him.
It should have been alarming, being in another man’s arms. Evan hadn’t been held in years—hell, even with his last lover, they’d never touched like this. It should have felt confining, but instead he was more comfortable than he could ever remember being. Not even Juree’s company had felt so wonderful.
Warm lips moved against the back of his neck. “How do you feel?”
“Fantastic,” Evan said, kind of surprised by that. “Like I slept for days.” Actually . . . “Did I sleep for days?”
Lee chuckled. “Only five hours. You could probably use more rest.”
“Nah, I’m good.” Evan looked around without pulling away from Lee. They were in an unfamiliar room, larger than his but smaller than the ones Lee and Jason shared, with only a fireplace, two chairs, and the bed they were lying on for furnishings. “Where are we?”
“In rider quarters in the stadium.”
“Where’s Jason?” Because as nice as this was, Evan had to know.
“Back in our apartment. He’s fine, don’t worry. He’s with Charlie.”
Ah. “Did she tell you what was going on?”
Evan felt Lee shake his head. “She didn’t have to. I already knew.”
It was true, then. Evan had thought it before, had felt it, but he wasn’t quite sure he could believe it. “Then . . . you really are a dragon.”
“I am. Among other things.”
“And I’m your rider?”