Dragon's Fire

by Gwynn White

  It didn’t matter. As soon as his head stopped pounding, he would find another way to escape.

  Chapter 18

  A dark passageway yawned before Lynx. It led into the mountains Lapis and Treven shared as a common border. Familiar claustrophobia threatened to engulf her.

  She grunted at the Light-Bearer that had brought her here. Now there was a misnomer of a name if the darkness pressing at the edges of its huge hangar, carved out of the mountain, was anything to go by.

  Beyond its brilliant blue hull, sunlight glimmered. It was fading fast as a huge door, camouflaged on the outside to look like the mountain face, slid closed.

  A small moan escaped her when the daylight vanished. It was last she would see for who knew how long, now that she and Axel had arrived at his home.

  She had always known Axel lived in a hideout in the mountains, but she had never in her wildest dreams—nightmares—imagined she would end up living in a mine, too.

  Somehow, she had always imagined meeting up with Axel again after the final war against Lukan had been won. Mines and dark passages had never featured in her daydreams about that much-longed-for event.

  Now she lived the reality, and it was magical. But her old nemesis, claustrophobia, threatened to ruin it for her. Her chest tightened, and she gulped down some air in an effort to fight it off.

  Axel leaned in close and whispered, “That’s what I’m for, my Lynxie, to protect you from all your monsters.”

  Despite the panic fibrillating her heart, she couldn’t resist smiling back at him. “Best way to do that would be to move our home into the light. Somewhere the wind still blows.”

  His grin turned lusty. “Ah, but it is so much more fun in the dark.”

  That she couldn’t argue with. She tossed him a flirty look. “Keep promising me more of your body, and I’ll follow you all the way to the core of this planet.”

  “A few miles in is all I ask.”

  Their banter made her happy. She glanced over at Heron, Clay, and Magridal, scurrying around to secure the airship, to see if they had heard it. It didn’t seem like they had, which was a pity.

  After her and Axel’s first day of fighting, followed by their night of passion, they had settled into an uneasy truce. She had spoken about her life in the forest. He had told her more about the politics with the monarchs that complicated his world.

  Both had skirted any discussion on Talon.

  Lynx hadn’t wanted to bring up Talon’s leadership of the alliance in the confined space of an airship with Axel’s—and now her—most important team members hearing every word. Axel was sure to fight her, and seeing a rift in the current alliance leadership would do nothing for the morale of their troops.

  For now, Axel was still the leader of the Pathfinder Alliance. Never again would she expose their arguments to public scrutiny. No matter how much they fought, in public, she and Axel had to present a united front. More than that, they had to appear as committed partners, whom mankind could trust to do what was best for the world—even if she had to bite her tongue off at the root to keep quiet when he made decisions she didn’t agree with. What they said and did to each other about leadership clashes in private was their business.

  Axel nudged her arm. “Take this. You don’t have to wear it, but make sure you have it at all times.”

  Bemused, Lynx took a strange-looking mask from him. Feeling like an idiot, she asked, “What’s it for?”

  “Gas. The biggest threat we face in here. Chad started something when he first used the stuff.” He jerked a thumb at the huge door blocking off all the natural light. “I had the entrances to the mines sealed with airtight doors. While we defend them, our weak points are the ventilation ducts. That’s where the Chenayans target. If they can poison the air, they poison us. The rest, as they say, would be history.”

  Heron patted a thick pipe attached to a humming box on the nearest wall. “We clean the air in the areas we live, and we have alarms—”

  He punched a red button.

  A piercing caterwaul had Lynx clasping her ears. Eyes clamped shut, she waited for the terrible screech to end. When the sound guttered, masks covered every face in the room except hers.

  “I get it. Mask on. What happens next?”

  The threat of poison gas didn’t help her claustrophobia one bit. Frantic fingers twirled her feathers and braids as the others stripped off their breathing apparatus and tossed the straps over their shoulders.

  “If you’re defending a doorway or vent, your commander will give you instructions. If you’re off duty, you stay where you are until the scrubbers kick in. Another alarm will sound the all clear.” This time Heron smacked a blue knob, and a different wail almost deafened Lynx.

  As soon as it stilled, Axel grabbed her and pulled her close to him. “As she will be with me, and I don’t defend doorways or vents, it won’t be a problem.”

  Lynx nodded her approval.

  He continued. “Chad and Jerawin have arranged a bit of a party for you.”

  That welcome party was supposed to be for Talon—the Dmitri boy every monarch in the Free Nations wanted to meet.

  “I told them we don’t have Nicholas with us, but they still want to meet you today.”

  “Excellent. We can tell them our plans for finding Talon.”

  Axel’s face lost all expression. He pointed to a wheeled contraption. “This way.”

  Battered and well traveled, it almost reminded her of the old steam plow at the cottage. Only the plow didn’t have two long-barreled guns, trailing ribbons of bullets, mounted on each side.

  Still, it was not much bigger than the plow, even though it had three benches designed to carry people. Lynx masked her surprise at their tatty, sagging appearance. The blue side-panels bore a faded Pathfinder Alliance emblem. She had not expected Axel’s army to use such dilapidated equipment, given the taxes he exacted from the Free Nations. It reminded her of the fractious monarchs who needed proof that the Son of Prophecy existed.

  She turned to Axel. “You haven’t forgotten to take me to the programmers to find Talon?”

  “Of course not.”

  Clay already stood at the controls of the strange vehicle. Coal from the hopper spilled onto the floor at his feet. The stack bellowed acrid smoke, adding a choking menace to the dark tunnel.

  Heron and Magridal sat on the bench behind him. The Trevenite beauty’s slender hand pulled Heron’s face down to hers. Magridal kissed Heron with such relish it shifted the knot of tension in Lynx’s stomach. She looked away to give them some privacy.

  Not that Magridal seemed worried about public displays of her passion for Heron.

  More stoic, Heron tended to endure her affection for a moment before pushing her away with a slightly bemused expression.

  Lynx was still to ask Clay about his love life.

  Axel had never spoken much about that even though he and Clay had lived together for years like brothers. It still felt unbelievable that the boy she had left behind in Norin was now a man of thirty-one.

  Her father still ruled Norin with a piercing eye and a measured tone. With no interest in power, her brother, Wolf, happily waited in the wings, praying their father never died. Some years before, Axel had told her that the Winds had claimed her mother’s spirit. She had grieved for her loss, hating Lukan even more for robbing her of years she could have spent with her family.

  “Today, people,” Clay called at Lynx and Axel. He let a draft of steam escape from the whistle. “I have stuff to do that doesn’t include sitting around while you two geriatrics shuffle across here.” He glanced at the kissing pair. “Or listening to Magridal slobbering over Heron.”

  “Insolent pup!” Axel called back, but he smiled at Clay with affection.

  Heron pulled away from Magridal and clipped Clay on the side of his head.

  Clay laughed, a warm throaty sound that made Lynx want to laugh with him.

  Lynx knew that when Clay had first arrived in the mines, Axel h
ad worked hard to instill proper military discipline into him.

  It had paid off; her brother was the soldier Axel always used when he needed a sharp-shooting assassin with a steady hand and a deadly eye.

  “A girl? Is that where you are itching to be?” Lynx asked Clay as she avoided Axel’s offer of help and, struggling with her broken wrist, hopped up onto the bench behind Heron.

  Everyone, including Clay, burst into laughter.

  Lynx blushed again. “Um . . . did I say something wrong?”

  “There are fungi growing on the walls of this mine who have better luck with women than Clay does,” Magridal spluttered through her laughter.

  Clay shrugged, his face twisted into a resigned smile. “I keep telling them, my other half is still out there somewhere. I just have to—”

  “Find her!” Axel, Heron, and Magridal all said in unison as if they knew exactly what was coming.

  Lynx couldn’t prevent a stab of jealousy that they knew each other so well.

  Another self-deprecating smile from Clay. “Axel and Lynx are together. Sort of. Who saw that coming? You all mock! My girl is out there. I just hope we don’t fight as much as our two leaders. That would be depressing.”

  Axel frowned. “Lynx and I had shock-induced teething problems.” He took her hand. “Those are now behind us, and we are a team. One in purpose.”

  Lynx smiled, pleased that Axel felt the same way about appearing united, even if she wasn’t sure he knew yet how much their purpose probably differed.

  “Right,” Clay said, as if he too had doubts. He shot the vehicle down the passage before Lynx had even settled herself properly on the seat. A wheel hit a bump, and she would have tumbled right off if Axel hadn’t been holding her.

  “Clay,” Axel groused. “Break this antique, and I’ll shove your ass up an air vent for the Chenayans to use as target practice.” He turned to Lynx. “I don’t know why we let him drive. He’s a complete maniac behind the controls.”

  Lynx snatched on the word antique. “It is rather old, isn’t it? I expected something fancier—more like the Light-Bearer and that smart sliding door.”

  “I told him putting you in this wreck was a bad idea,” Clay said, “but the lug-head didn’t listen.”

  Not wanting to distract Clay’s attention from the track, Lynx looked at Axel for an explanation.

  He bit his lip, appearing to Lynx a trifle embarrassed. He leaned in and whispered, “I wanted to ease your transition by using a steam-powered vehicle like the ones you were used to. I sent a message to the commander of my transport division to resuscitate this old relic.”

  She gaped at him. “So you don’t use steam anymore?”

  What kind of alliance leader was she if she didn’t know fundamental things like that?

  He barked a cough at the grit and eye-watering smoke. “Why would we?” He waved at the walls. “We sit on the world’s biggest supplies of ice crystal. That powers everything now.”

  Lynx squeezed his hand, touched that he cared enough to worry about such a simple thing to make her happy. But it was also a lesson learned: She should err on the side of caution before making assumptions until she had a better idea of how things worked around here. A point driven home by her utter disorientation in the dark. The only light came from two headlamps on the carrier and she had no idea in which direction they were going. For all she knew, she could have been careening through a distant planet.

  It was only Axel’s warm hand around hers that grounded her.

  But what lurked in the dark? Considering this was still hotly contested territory, how did they know it was safe? It occurred to her to say, “I don’t have a weapon. Are we likely to meet any Chenayans?”

  Axel shook his head. “Unlikely. This is the Pathfinder home base. The last time the Chenayans broke through here was about three years ago. They captured a group of my programmers. Caused bloody havoc for us when our systems started getting hacked soon afterward. We’ve tightened things up a lot since then.” He gestured at the guns to the right and left of her. “It’s why we travel with weapons.”

  “Did you get your people back?”

  “No, although we looked.” Axel’s face hardened. “My people don’t wear ice crystals.”

  Lynx nodded, missing the weight of a blade at her side. “I would like a crossbow.”

  At least Axel had the decency not to laugh; it was more than she could say for the rest of them.

  “What?” Lynx demanded.

  “No one in Treven uses crossbows anymore, Lynxie,” Axel reminded. “It’s all guns now.”

  A flush of red scorched her face.

  “We use short-barreled rifles,” Heron said, “because they are easier to wield in the tight spaces. But Lukan’s troops use full-length rifles. Everything has to be bigger and better for him, no matter how impractical. I guess he thinks it shows the world he has big testicles.”

  “No one is fooled,” Clay added. “We all know he’s got raisins in that department.”

  Lynx snorted a laugh.

  “I’m not taking any chances on the size of Lukan’s testicles,” Axel replied. “First thing we’ll do when your wrist is mended is get you up and shooting. I want you to be able to protect yourself.”

  “I’ll teach her,” Clay offered. “I’m the best, after all.”

  “And the most modest.” Heron thunked Clay on the back of the head again.

  “Yeah. That, too.” Clay looked back with a smile. “Makes me ideal for the job.”

  “As much as I hate to encourage him, Clay is right,” Axel said in a commanding voice. “There’s a reason I use him as my assassin.”

  “The boss has spoken. Lynx will get her lessons from the modest one.”

  Axel turned to Lynx. “Selling Clay’s excellent marksmanship to the monarchs to solve their political conflicts without overt war is another way I make money for the alliance. Trust me, your brother’s services don’t come cheaply.”

  Clay grinned while both Heron and Magridal shrugged.

  Lynx loved the idea of training with her little brother. The last time they had spent any time together, she had been training him for his egg raid. She leaned in to kiss Axel on the cheek.

  He twisted his head, briefly hooking her lip with his teeth. He broke away laughing. “We’re as bad as Magridal and Heron, and I never thought I’d live to say that.”

  “You should be so lucky.” Magridal made a grab for Heron.

  Heron dodged her. “Later, woman,” he growled.

  Despite all she had lost, the threat of war, and her son still being in Lukan’s grasp, a part of Lynx glowed with happiness to be part of Axel’s world. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting him cushion the worst of the rocking as Clay pushed the carrier over the rough ground.

  When they finally arrived, Lynx looked around in astonishment. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find at the programmers, but it wasn’t dozens of palm-sized informas hovering in the air in a dimly lit cavern.

  Even more odd, all their operators, clad in the now-familiar black fatigues with the Pathfinder emblem, hardly looked out of their teens. The hues of their skin reflected the widest diversity the planet could offer. They sat in individual metal constructs. The rugged rubber wheels suggested the contraptions could move. Lines of text flickered in the air before their faces. Some of them muttered softly into mouthpieces attached to their heads. Baffling shapes, images, and streams of words, bright in the near darkness, shifted and morphed in the air.

  “Since we lost all those other programmers to Lukan, we keep it all mobile,” Axel said, gesturing to the constructs. “The ice crystal powers dynamos. Top speed, twenty miles an hour. Not a bad achievement, given the terrain.”

  Heron grinned at Lynx. “We don’t let Clay anywhere near them. Last time he tried, he crashed over a precipice. We still call that part of the mine Clay’s Drop.”

  “Took about two days to extract him,” Magridal added. “The bos
s wasn’t half angry.”

  Clay rubbed his leg ruefully. “I didn’t walk properly for months. Not that he cared.” He shot a scowl at Axel, but even with his scars, his impish face hadn’t been designed to look truly surly. A boyish smile soon followed. “The bugger still sent me off to kill people for cash.”

  “Someone had to pay to replace the equipment,” Axel replied, showing no remorse.

  Lynx smiled knowingly at their banter. They helped her feel comfortable with a world she knew nothing about.

  She pointed at the programmers. “It all looks very—official. Am I the only person left in the Free Nations who knows nothing about all this?”

  A tender smile from Axel. “They know, sort of, that technology exists, but it hasn’t affected most people’s lives. They still live pretty much like they always did.” He nodded at the programmers. “We have to train up the youngsters who come knocking on our door, wanting to change the world.”

  Heron walked over to a swarthy girl with a striking face, who probably originally hailed from Kartania, where she and Tao had tried to flee in their disastrous escape attempt that saw them banished to the forest.

  “Adar, your weapon screen.”

  The girl—Adar—looked up at him, saluted, and then spoke into her voice-piece. The lines in front of her changed into a complex graphic. Heron studied it, clearly understanding exactly what it all meant, even though to Lynx, it was gibberish. Yet another reason to be humble and accept Axel’s leadership with grace.

  She sensed Axel watching her and turned to him.

  “Heron heads up my ground forces here in Treven. It’s his job to ensure Lukan’s guardsmen never breach the doors or vents. He does that with Adar’s help. She keeps track of every single rifle employed by every single one of Lukan’s troops in Treven.”

  Lynx’s eyes widened to bursting point. “Winds! How does she do that? It must be thousands of weapons.”

  “Forty-four thousand seven hundred and seventeen guardsmen at the last count,” Heron called over to her. “But we expect that to rise substantially now that you are here.” He turned back to Adar’s picture.