by Adrian Cross
“No,” he managed. This wasn’t Sarah. It wasn’t. He pushed his emotions into a tight ball in the back of his chest. “I killed a big lizard that looked like a dragon once. My boss thought it would be amusing to make a coat out of its scales. The name came with it.”
Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Will you help me? My father would reward you.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Brock rumbled. “You don’t need him.”
“Really, Brock?” Mama asked. “You can ride a horse?”
So the job had to do with riding. Clay could certainly do that well enough, although getting hold of a horse was tricky in StoneDragon. Terina wouldn’t let him touch Barrel until he’d settled his bill. One problem at a time.
“Tell him, Karen,” Mama said.
The golden-haired girl touched the stone at her throat. It glowed a soft blue, a soothing counterpoint to the Wall’s filtered light.
Behind her, the trapdoor shifted, opening the slightest crack. Clay touched his pistol. Mama put a hand on his arm. Presumably, she knew who was under there, or thought she did.
He released the pistol but kept an eye on the trapdoor. Anyone could be mistaken, as well he knew.
“My father is a king,” Karen said, “who rules a small kingdom on the coast. To its west is a forest that harbors the occasional vagrant or thief, but rarely anyone truly dangerous, at least until a couple of months ago, when that changed. Travelers began disappearing. My father sent out companies of men, but they couldn’t find the bandits. So he assigned me a bodyguard, Jonathan, and told me not to wander too far into the forest.”
Her lips quirked, and Clay’s heart lurched. Was she really so much like Sarah, or was he just imagining it? After ten years, Sarah’s face had become fuzzy in his mind. That realization felt like another betrayal.
“I figured my father worried too much. I liked to race my mare through the trees, as fast as I could, and make Jonathan chase me. It was very undignified for him and so very fun for me.”
She paced one way and then turned back, and Clay saw a flash of darkness in the gap of her left boot. A dagger? Interesting.
“This morning, I rode farther into the forest than I’d ever gone. By the time Jonathan caught up with me, we were in a clearing I’d never seen before, with a fire-scorched cliff on one side. The sky was red. Jonathan was upset with me and demanded we turn back right away. I didn’t protest. But when we turned, a man blocked our path. He was a big man and heavy. An antlered helm rested on his head, and a black sword pointed at us.
“‘Where is it?’ he asked. Behind him, more figures appeared from the shadows, and I grew scared. These must have been the bandits my father warned me against. ‘Where is the Golden Rib? We want it back,’ the man said. It seemed they’d lost some piece of jewelry and believed we had it.
“Jonathan kneed his horse forward. ‘You’ve made a mistake.’ He looked back to give me a reassuring smile. He shouldn’t have done that. The horned man stepped forward and punched Jonathan in the chest, so hard he flew backward and landed hard. He… he didn’t move when he landed.”
Jonathan sounded better at chasing pretty girls than protecting them, although Clay didn’t say it. “And then?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I ran away. I left Jonathan there and rode Wave as fast as I could the other way. The bandits didn’t have horses. I left him.” Tears gleamed in her eyes. “But soon I heard hounds. Baying. They chased me. Chased me until Wave foundered beneath me. The hounds appeared at her heels, and I thought we were going to get pulled down and killed, when a wall of fire appeared in front of us.”
The Wall. It was a Shift night, with the city calling certain people to it.
“Wave dug in and dropped her head. I couldn’t hang on. I flew through the air, straight toward the flames. I thought I was going to die.”
“But instead you arrived in StoneDragon,” Clay said. “We’ve all been there. Then what?”
“I wandered until I found this place. Mama took me in.”
Karen had been lucky. If some of the darker things in the city had found her first… His jaw clenched. She might not be Sarah, but he couldn’t bear the thought.
Brock growled. “We wouldn’t turn her away.” The Clan had a chauvinistic and protective bent toward women, despite Mama’s leadership. Apparently it extended outside the family.
“So the job is to get Karen back? And it’s far enough away that we need horses?”
“It’s more about speed,” Mama said. “Who knows how many bandits there are? No point fighting them in their home territory if we can avoid it. With horses, I figure you could get her home fast and avoid trouble if the bandits are still looking for her.”
Karen shook her head. “You didn’t see him. The antlered man. He won’t give up.”
“So you’re in?” Mama asked.
Clay knew Karen wasn’t Sarah. He knew it. And he also had a feeling Karen hadn’t told them the whole story. But it didn’t matter. Her fear and desperation were real, and the echo of his past was too strong for him to walk away.
“I will keep her safe,” he said. “On my life.”
Mama and Brock looked at Clay oddly, but Karen’s face warmed into a smile.
Clay was pretty sure what he’d just promised was a bad idea. It wouldn’t be easy to protect someone in a land he didn’t know from a threat he didn’t understand. It could go wrong in a hundred ways. And he didn’t even know how much he was getting paid. But still he smiled back. He’d lost Sarah. He wouldn’t lose Karen.
“One more thing,” Mama said. “I’m sending someone with you.”
“What? Who?”
Brock’s chest inflated. “I thought as much. It’s an inconvenience, but if you—”
“No, not you.” She yanked open the trapdoor.
A girl was revealed, her eyes wide. She wore a plain helm and two iron-headed axes, along with layers of cloth and armor that made her appear almost shapeless. Her modest height, smooth skin, and large dark eyes made her look young, but that impression was contradicted by the firm thrust of her jaw as she climbed out.
“You must be joking,” Brock snapped. “No.”
“Why not?”
“She’s not ready. She’s too young.”
“She’s started her third decade, and you trained her yourself.” Mama shook her head. “I say she’s ready. And the Code says a warrior should be tempered.”
“The Code says nothing about women being warriors, as you well know. This is wrong. I won’t allow it.”
“You what?” Mama said softly. “Are you challenging me?”
Brock glared down at her. He must have weighed at least twice as much as the older woman. His jaw bunched. “I cannot. It’s forbidden.”
“Then be silent. Clay, this is Bernetta Brogi.”
“Bern,” the girl corrected.
Clay hesitated. “Much as I hate to admit Brock might have a point, this doesn’t seem like a good idea. It’s too dangerous to bring along a wet-behind-the-ears kid—”
“A what?” Bern asked.
He shook his head. “Being distracted could get me and Karen killed. I need someone who can handle themselves. What about one of the guys I saw outside?”
“Clay…” Mama started.
Bern stepped closer. “No, Mama, let me answer his concern.” She smiled at Clay pleasantly.
Then she hit him. It felt like the kick of a mule, right in the gut. Air rushed from his lungs. He sank to his knees, mouth gaping, and nose nearly touching the floor as he wheezed for breath.
Brock chuckled.
Bern revealed a band of metal around her fingers. “Dragon knuckle,” she said. “Any other questions?”
“Come on,” Mama said. “Get up. It’s time to go.”
Clay wished he had the air to respond.
A hand yanked him to his feet. Brock leaned close, showing his teeth. “If anything happens to my niece, fog-rat,” he said, “I’ll choke you with your own intestines.�
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Clay managed to get his feet under him and pulled his arm loose.
“Ready?” Mama asked.
JP was counting on Clay. Karen too. “Ready.”
With luck, this would be just a quick ride through the woods, and he wouldn’t have to worry about protecting anybody. There was only one problem with that, he thought sourly.
His luck was rarely that good.
3
Horses Are Evil
Bern’s cheeks were hot. She shouldn’t have hit Clay.
The problem was she’d just gotten so sick of it. All of it. Of being coddled, treated like she was made of bluestone, ready to crack if bumped the wrong way. She’d trained for years, until the axes at her hip felt like an extension of her body, until even Brock struggled to look casual when he sparred with her. Until Mama offered her a Tempering. Bern had worried it would never happen. And then Clay called her a child. Frustration boiled over.
But, somehow, her Tempering was still happening. The three of them marched along StoneDragon’s red-tinged cobblestones, boots ringing, as if all were normal. Bern kept expecting Brock to charge out of the Lady, shouting at her to stop. But he didn’t.
Clay walked at the front, his strange, scaled coat glimmering in the light of the Wall. A soft-brimmed hat shadowed his gaze, making it hard to tell where he was looking. He was unlike the warriors she was used to, more mountain cat than anvil. But not weak. She’d felt the layer of muscle in his stomach when she’d punched him. And Brock had watched the man closely, despite the contemptuous words. Clay had earned a reputation, just like Bern wanted to do.
“What is this city?” Karen asked. “Some kind of separate world?” She leaned forward, her whole attention on Clay.
Bern fought down a wave of irritation. Her job was to help this woman, not judge her.
“No one knows,” Clay said. “One story is that it is an ancient city cursed by God, torn loose from time and space.”
“Do you believe that?”
He shrugged. “It’s not normal. It Shifts every seven days, bringing you to a new time and place. And it’s got a wall of fire around it.”
“If you miss the Shift,” Bern added, “you’re stuck where you are, inside or out.” As her Clan knew all too well. “You don’t want to cut your timing too close.”
“But no one complains about a giant city appearing out of nowhere? No one tries to invade it?”
Clay chuckled. “StoneDragon’s a snake pit. Full of some of the nastiest fighters humanity’s known. The city draws them even more than others. Picking a fight with anyone here is a bad idea. Picking a fight with the whole city would be damn-near suicidal.”
“But if someone did?” Karen insisted. “Someone powerful?”
“The city has other defenses. Not everyone is able to pass the Wall or even see it. Whole convoys ride past without a glance. And yet those called can ride for days to find the city, not knowing what they’re looking for.”
Karen looked thoughtful and fell silent.
Bern imagined what she would do if an army did attack the city. Hapless warriors rushing at the Hairy Lady, to be cut down by her and her family. An image slipped in. Clay sheltering behind her, injured and unable to rise. Watching in admiration as Bern’s axes danced and spun in her hand, cleaving—
Crash.
The sound snapped Bern back to attention. She gripped her axes. What was that?
In front of her, low wooden stables hunched over the cobblestones, striped in oak and veneer, with a door pulled open like a predatory grin. A white eye appeared in a window, and something snorted. Then it disappeared, and another crash shuddered out.
Clay and Karen kept moving toward the door.
That was a horse? Bloody Stone. It sounded like it was trying to kick its way out.
Bern’s heart pounded. She’d spent her childhood on a mountain, clambering up steep faces and narrow paths. She’d never ridden a horse. From a distance they’d seemed … smaller.
A thick smell reached her, an animal musk that swept her back into a terrifying memory from her childhood.
She’d been eight, exploring rocks at the edge of the mist. Climbing over slick stones, she’d noticed a glitter of blue. Moving closer, she saw a small cave. Maybe with a new cache of bluestone? Heart pounding, she stepped inside. Only when the darkness enfolded her did she register the warm, thick scent.
She froze. Her blood chilled. Did she share a cave with a Blood Bear, one of the black-clawed monsters of legend, driven up from the lowlands by hunger or age?
In the silence, she heard a slow rasping of breath.
She muffled a scream and eased backward, step after trembling step. It seemed to take forever to leave that cave.
Later, when Mama sent warriors to investigate, they found the cave occupied by a mangy, stomach-swollen goat. The pregnant animal must have slipped her tethers and sought shelter in the cave. Harmless. But Bern never forgot the icy fear that filled her limbs in those interminable moments.
The smell of the horse brought back that feeling.
She forced her legs to keep carrying her forward. Her face felt stiff and unnatural. But she wouldn’t admit fear, not on her Tempering mission.
Clay clucked. “Hi ya, Barrel.”
Smash. Bern flinched. The beast had kicked the wall again.
A shadow emerged from a nearby doorframe, rising up—and up. The creature must have been eight feet tall.
“What are you doing here?” it rumbled.
Bern’s axes started to slide out before she noticed Clay’s lack of reaction. She settled them back into her belt.
Not an “it,” she realized, but a “her.” The stranger had coarse brown hair, cropped short, and powerful hands, but a wider swell of chest and eyelash suggested female. Her narrow stance didn’t speak to extensive martial training, but her huge size would make her a formidable opponent, regardless.
“You can’t have him.”
Clay spread his hands. “He misses me.”
“I miss the hundred and ten chips you owe. Pay it and ride Barrel all you want.”
“It’s for a job. After, I’ll pay you back.”
A snort. “Half up front. Then we talk about the rest.”
“Terina, please! Be reasonable.”
The giantess folded her arms.
“I will pay his expenses,” Karen said. “My father can provide rare stones. Acceptable?”
Terina frowned. “There’s a saying here. ‘Promises beyond the Wall are like Casanova’s balls. Don’t trust ’em.’”
Bern cleared her throat. “The Clan will guarantee payment.”
Terina examined Bern, taking in her small stature and metal-patched attire. “The dwarves will guarantee my bill? Whether he succeeds or fails?”
“We’re not dwarves. But yes.”
Terina smiled and stepped aside. “Welcome then.”
Bern followed the others into a small corridor with a scattering of half doors on either side. Straw crunched under her boots, and the heavy smell of manure hit her nostrils. Her stomach tightened. Horses. The light dimmed as the door closed behind her.
A great head extended over the half door and nudged at Clay’s chest, pushing him back. He chuckled. “Hey, Barrel.”
“How many mounts you need?” Terina asked.
She opened the door and slid a set of ropes around Barrel’s neck. She pulled Barrel out of his stall and looped the ropes around a hook. Bern eased back.
“Two is good. Bern can ride with me.”
Bern wondered if he’d noticed her discomfort and guessed her lack of riding experience. But the thought of being that close to the ex-Fist also made her uncomfortable. “Uh…”
“Use my saddle then; it’s bigger. I have a mare that’ll serve.” Terina set off down the hallway, head bent to avoid the beams.
Clay lifted a large saddle off a hook, the muscles of his shoulders spreading.
Karen touched his arm. “I want to thank you.”
&nb
sp; He froze, not looking at her. Bern felt a flush of irritation. The princess couldn’t be oblivious to the effect she had on the cowboy.
“You don’t have to,” he said awkwardly.
“Yes, I do.” Karen rose on her toes and kissed his cheek.
Bern’s cheeks felt hot. She opened her mouth but was unsure why. To protest, to change the subject, to say almost anything, but a snort and stomp of hooves made the words catch in her throat.
Barrel reared and came down, making the planks tremble.
Bern jumped back, feeling the rough wood of the door press against her back. Her knuckles ached from the strength of her grip on her axe handles.
Clay put a hand on Barrel’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, boy?”
The horse stared at Bern, his eyes wide and white. Clay turned. “It’s almost as if—”
The wall behind her exploded. Chunks sprayed out, driving her forward. Bern landed painfully on one shoulder, rolled, and slammed into the wall. The air blew out of her lungs. Hooves slammed down and dirt stung her face. A huge shadow reared up again. Barrel.
She twisted, avoiding his hooves.
Beyond the horse’s legs, a squat tree-like shape filled the hole in the wall. Ember lights marked its upper trunk, like crimson eyes. Gnarled limbs swung with unnatural vitality. The buzzing in Bern’s ears, from hitting the wall, disguised any sound it might have made.
Dust puffed from the tree creature’s skin. A translucent icicle was sunk half its length in the bark. Bern glanced sideways to see Clay with his pistol in hand. He’d shot it.
A brown limb whipped out at him. Clay dove but couldn’t avoid it. The blow smashed him into the wall with jarring force.
Bern made it to her feet.
Barrel swung around, his hip catching her, spinning her back into the wall. Her right axe slid through her fingers, caught only by a desperate clutch.
What was she doing? She was a warrior!
Clay was on his hands and knees, shaking his head. Blood smeared his temple.
Bern leaped forward.
The tree creature backed away. Triumph warmed her chest, before she realized the creature had simply gotten what it wanted. Through swirls of dust, she saw a dark figure struggling against the grip of its branches. Karen.