Dragon's Honor (The Dragon Corps Series Book 1)

by Michaela Kendrick

  “You told me that I need not deal with those who treated me as he did, do you remember? And I realized you were quite correct, even if you did not know it. The Warlord is only one of dozens, treating me as a servant when his whole dominion was based on what I could do for him. He would never have survived if it hadn’t been for me, but he thought he could suffice by throwing me scraps. He was wrong. I will take his place instead of his paltry offerings.”

  “Overthrow the Warlord, and people will only know it’s possible,” Cade told him bluntly. “You’ll be dead within a week.”

  “Only if people know,” Ellian told him simply.

  Aryn, watching Cade’s face, saw that he was as lost as she was. Ellian laughed, delightedly.

  “Your sense of honor does you no favors, Mr. Williams. It drove you to defend her. It dropped you into my grasp and from there into the mines. And now you’ve come back. You had to know I would kill you if you did. All because you cannot see the greater picture. Ellian Pallas is not going to win today. He is going to die—bravely, fighting for the woman he loves.” Ellian swept his hand out to Aryn, a sneer on his face. “And the Warlord will crush him and his army, and the underworld will know that no one can stand in the Warlord’s way. And so when I take his place, they will give me the respect they never did before. I will rule here. Not as he did, pressing the people into rebellion. They will find I am suddenly kinder. The teeth will be drawn from this pathetic rebellion. And I will rule.

  “And now, Mr. Williams, if you’ll excuse me. I’m very busy and don’t have the time to make sure you won’t try to kill me. So—”

  “You won’t get away with it,” Aryn whispered. She had to keep him talking. She had to hope that Cade would see the gun, would understand.

  “Not now, Aryn.”

  “She’s right.” Cade smiled cruelly. “And even if you do, Pallas, it will all turn to ashes. You know it. You know you’re just as weak as I am.”

  “I am nothing like you,” Ellian gritted out.

  “Oh, but you are.” Cade sounded delighted. “Haven’t you realized yet? You do want her to love you. You say you want obedience. You told me you wanted Aryn to hate you. But someday, in a quiet moment, you’re going to look down at her while she’s in your arms and realize she’s thinking of me.”

  “Shut up.” But Ellian was frozen, his eyes fixed on Cade.

  Aryn eased forward, circling one hand behind his back to tell Cade to keep going.

  “She’ll bite her lip to keep from screaming my name,” Cade said softly, cruelly. “You’ll know that every time you go to bed with her—”

  “I said shut up! You think you’ll win, Williams? You’ll be dead. And I’ll—“

  The gun went off with a roar that half-deafened her, Ellian jerking sideways with the force of it, and Cade’s knife lodging in his throat as he went down. Cade dove as spikes exploded out of the wall behind him, shooting through the space he’d occupied only a moment before. He crawled to yank out Ellian’s earpiece, and Aryn pulled him to his feet and ran for the door. They burst into the hallway as she turned, another shot jolting up through her arm.

  “Aryn, we have to move.” He was holding the radio, yelling into it to tell Talon that Ellian was dead.

  She could not stop. Her hand bounced as the gun went off again. Again. Again. She shot as the sounds of gunfire echoed nearby, shouts of soldiers and guards, and the high yells of resistance fighters. She shot as she heard Cade’s voice, cold and precise, saying into the earpiece that Ellian Pallas was dead, that the troops should fall back. She shot until there were no more rounds left. And then she dropped the gun onto the marble floor and Cade folded her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as she sobbed.

  “I…”

  “Shhh.” She felt his lips press against her hair. “It’s over. It’s over. We just have to get out of here, Aryn. Can you run with me?”

  She couldn’t find words. She nodded jerkily and he kissed her again.

  “I’ll keep you safe.”

  She could see nothing but his gaze. She reached out for his hand, and they set off down the hallway together, distant gunfire echoing in their ears.

  Chapter 41

  Aryn’s face was still white with shock as she ran, but her hand was warm, curled against his. She was real. She was alive. Cade looked over at her every few steps to make sure of it, only half-believing what he was seeing, and it seemed that she did not believe it, either. The tears started a few corridors away, sliding silently down her cheeks with tiny, hiccupped sobs that she tried to keep inside. He could see her cheeks flush with sudden color, and then pale again, and her breathing was coming in little gasps. She moved like a little doll, to lost in her own world to do more than stop when Cade stopped, and move when he moved.

  He paused at each corner, checking for battle. They were getting close, and the signs of combat were everywhere: shattered chips of stone, spent rounds, and here and there a smear of blood. No bodies yet, thank God—he was not sure what Aryn would make of that.

  He needed to find somewhere to hide her. The adrenaline would not hold much longer, and he knew from long experience that when it left, she would be too tired to heed even a raging battle around her. She might curl up and sleep as an army ran past, her body too spent to protect itself.

  And he had no weapon, dammit. They’d all given up their rifles as they came into the palace, and Ellian hadn’t seemed to think he would need weapons as he waited out the battle, readying himself for the Warlord’s throne. He expected everyone else to do the dirty work for him, and while that had been useful in the extreme for facing him down, it didn’t give Cade anything to work with now.

  That they would run into the Warlord’s soldiers was not so much a premonition as a certainty. Cade had been waiting for it since they left Ellian’s rooms, measuring each hallway by the number of alcoves he could push Aryn into, and so when one of the sections of wall swung outwards, he was already shoving her aside.

  “Hide.”

  They might have gone for her if they had the chance, but he made sure they did not have the chance. Half of a battle is posturing, they taught in the first training courses. Your opponent would ready their weapon, get ready to be a victor. A Dragon spent no time on such things. Even as they brought their weapons up, he was already charging at them, exploding into their midst in a flurry of strikes that knocked them aside. One down, then two, then three. Did he recognize their faces from his attackers the other night? It did not matter. They were between him and his people, and they’d moved to shoot him.

  The battle passed as it always did for him, in a liquid sort of time that flowed around his skin and through his mind, absolute clarity as he planned his next move and executed it. It was a state he welcomed like an old friend, and could never quite remember afterwards, when they lay on the floor around him and he stared down at their bodies, the rational part of his mind returning to him slowly.

  One was still alive, but his leg was broken. Cade stared at him, feeling the urge twitch in his hands. Enemy, his mind insisted. And yet…he could not follow. He was not truly loyal. Cade knelt, seeing terror in the man’s eyes, and plucked the weapon from his hands. A brief press on a pressure point and the man’s eyes rolled back in his head. Cade stripped the bodies quickly, clipping an ammunition vest on, and then went back for Aryn.

  She did not even look at the bodies as she went. Her steps were slowing now, her head bobbing slightly as she struggled to focus. She was losing strength and speed as they approached the Warlord’s inner chambers, and Cade could hear from the shouts and gunfire that this was the last stand.

  When they came around the corner, even he turned his face away from the sight and he yanked Aryn to his chest, shielding her eyes with his hand. Bodies lay slumped against walls, piled on top of one another, curled helplessly on the floor. He could see Talon’s tactics in where they had taken shelter and vantage points, but the rebels had not had body armor or helmets. They had pressed onward with
out a hope, and the advance had cost them dearly.

  It’s not worth this. But it was, and he knew it. The Warlord’s soldiers also lay dead and dying, fallen where they tried to defend the door into his private rooms. From the precision of the shots that had taken them out, Cade knew very well who had done most of the killing here. But three, four, even seven Dragons would not have been enough to overwhelm these forces. They had needed the cover fire that the rebels brought.

  And the gunfire beyond told him that they needed him now. He had turned and run for too long; he had denied his skills for the fact that he could not bear to have others caught in the crossfire. And in his pride, he had let the downtrodden be caught in the games of others, instead. No more. Where Talon and the others faced down the Warlord, he would join them. He led Aryn to an alcove, urging her behind a pedestal.

  “I will come back for you. Anything you hear that’s not my voice, or Talon’s, or Samara’s, you stay back here, okay?”

  She nodded. She was shivering now as shock set in, and she did not move when he pressed his lips to hers.

  “Aryn. I will come back. You will be okay.”

  Her lips moved. I killed him, Cade thought he made out.

  “Stay here,” he said simply. He squeezed her hand and left, weaving his way through the corridors, bringing the first weapon up to focus down the sights. He could hear Nyx still calling commands, and a voice answering her that must be Loki, the young Dragon. Talon’s furious battle roar made a familiar counterpoint, and Cade felt himself smile. Once more into the breach.

  He hurled himself through the open doorway and behind cover, managing to get one of the Warlord’s guards in the arm as he came to a crouch. He cursed for missing the shot, and looked above him for the direction of the shots.

  “Wlliams?”

  “Here.” Cade popped back up and took out a guard trying to make their way around the side of the circular chamber. He went down in a shower of books as one of the sets of shelves collapsed and Cade worked his way sideways, around one of the tumbled chairs that served as cover.

  A familiar face looked over, pinched with worry but sparing a smile.

  “Nice to see you.”

  “Glad you’re here,” Cade said honestly. Samara was picking off enemy soldiers with, if not a Dragon’s precision, at least a sense of grim determination. He looked away before she could see the relief in his eyes. If Samara had died… He did not know what it would have done to Aryn.

  “Where’s Aryn?” She asked him as she reloaded.

  “Hidden.” He turned his head to watch Nyx lob a grenade over the barriers, and everyone winced as the explosion went off.

  Samara popped up to shoot again and dropped back down at once as rounds chattered past her head. Her face was white. “Shit, that was close.” She leaned her head back gulping for air. “They just don’t stop coming. God. Cade?”

  “Yes?”

  “What about Ellian?”

  “He’s dead.” He tried to keep his voice flat, but she knew he heard his pleasure.

  “You?” He saw her steel herself, then pop up and shoot at one of the last few guards, a yell on her lips.

  “Aryn, actually.” Cade leaned sideways to shoot around the edge of the table.

  She paused to look at him as she slid out a magazine and searched for another, and he passed one over. Talon was yelling something as a soldier made for his position, and Cade looked away from the sound of knives and bones and flesh. The man screamed.

  They were close to the end. Very close. Cade felt his world narrow, everything falling away. This clarity… He had missed it. Here, there was only life and death. Here, he knew what was expected of him.

  “Williams!” The familiar yell.

  “Yes?”

  “What’s this about troop movements I’m hearing?” Talon came up long enough to throw a knife. “Everyone says they’re fighting for the Warlord, but they’ve turned on each other.”

  “Ellian wanted to be the Warlord,” Cade yelled back. “Don’t worry, they should be falling back.” A man came over the chair with a yell and Cade took him out with a strike to the throat, kicking the body away. His sympathy was gone. This man knew everything the Warlord was capable of, and he was here, making a last, desperate stand for scraps of power he might one day snatch up for himself.

  He looked around himself, noting the bleeding wounds and frightened eyes of the resistance fighters. A surprising number had made it this far, and they were listening to the orders that Talon and Nyx called out to them, coming up in succession to shoot, and calling out their positions and enemy locations as they came down to reload.

  You fight as a unit, their teachers told them, and you live. You fight alone, you die.

  The Warlord’s soldiers were dying. Slowly, surely, they were being picked off.

  “Only a few more!” Talon called.

  “Surrender anytime!” Nyx added, sliding a magazine into place and looking over her head to check the direction of the rounds streaking past.

  “The Warlord’s forces will never surrender!” the shout came back.

  “Then they shouldn’t fight Dragons,” Samara murmured wryly. “Cade, there’s one on the far left. I can’t quite—”

  “Got it.” Cade waited a moment, counting the bursts of gunfire, then rolled to his knees and shot.

  Samara’s scream chilled him to the bone. A last fighter, chest heaving as if he’d run all the way through the palace, came from behind them. His arms were out, one gun pointed at Samara, the other aiming at the mass of fighters behind the barriers. As Cade started to launch himself forward, he saw the man’s fingers squeeze around the trigger once, twice, three times.

  Nyx slammed into him sideways, blood coating her shoulder, a ragged yell on her lips as she took him down. Another shot resounded from the Warlord’s inner chambers and it caught her in the shoulder, spinning her in midair as she went down.

  “Nyx!” Talon’s voice. There was the sound of five guns firing in concert, the absolute fury of Dragons who had seen one of their own go down.

  And then there was ringing silence.

  “Nyx.” Cade was crawling for her, turning her body. She coughed, and he watched blood pour from her shoulder. “Where’d he get you?”

  “Somewhere…Oh, God…” Her fingers pressed weakly over her stomach. “Did he get…?” She rolled her head to look at Samara.

  “Just my arm.” Samara was shaking as she crawled forward. “Nyx. Are you okay? You saved my life.”

  “Ground…shaking.” Nyx let her eyes drift closed. “God, this hurts. Williams.”

  “What?”

  “The ground—”

  By then, he felt it, too. Talon swore, and Loki was already leaping the barrier, making for the half-open door behind the Warlord’s desk. But it was too late: before they were even halfway across the room, the walls shook and a shuttle streaking overhead, visible through the glass ceiling. It arrowed up, shrinking rapidly, no thought given to the passengers who were likely passing out in their seats. It dwindled to a speck in their vision, and was gone.

  Talon gave a heartfelt oath. He closed his eyes for a moment as he watched his prey escape, and then he took a deep breath and looked over at Cade, a genuine smile on his lips.

  “Knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Here.” A syringe and a bottle tumbled through the air. “For Nyx.” There was a question in his eyes.

  “She’ll live. Probably going to punch another nurse, though.” Nyx’s aversion to medical help was legendary. He returned to kneel down at her side. “Ready for a shot?”

  “Screw you.”

  “Even you can’t take a stomach wound without this stuff. Come on.” He spared a moment to point down the hallway to Aryn’s alcove to guide Samara to her friend, and then looked back at Nyx. “Still with me?”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes were almost all the way closed. “Get it over with. I’m going to make it, right?”

  “You’re going to make it.” Her blood was c
lotting quickly as it hit the air, one of the many upgrades a Dragon was given, and she’d already be primed to deal with the toxins in her blood. Even as he gave her the shot, Loki was coming to his side with a medical kit. They worked in silence, Nyx occasionally swearing as a wound closed—a uniquely itchy sensation. When at last she lay with a saline drip in her arm and her breathing deep and even, Cade stood to look over at the rest of the Dragons, who were speaking in low tones with the resistance fighters. Tersi was demonstrating suturing techniques, and Sphinx was holding a young woman up as her leg was splinted in place. Talon, meanwhile, was speaking rapidly into the radio, grinning as he did.

  “Nyx needs blood, but she’ll be fine,” Cade told him. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’re in a good mood.”

  “He’s got nowhere to run.” Talon smiled, his eyes cold. “I uploaded his files to the Alliance before this kicked off. They know who he is. And he’ll find no quarter here. Half his soldiers defected to Ellian’s side, and the rest are standing down now. And all of them, at any rate, are on their way back to the troop carriers.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I might have happened to figure out where the Warlord kept his money for payroll, and managed to slip into the conversation that the Alliance has four cruisers inbound. They’ve been generously rewarded for leaving, and it’s not like any of them actually cared for Pallas, either.” Talon’s eyes flicked over. “I assume he’s dead, by the way.”

  “Aryn shot him, actually.”

  “And where’s she?”

  Cade looked over, and Talon followed his gaze. Aryn was standing with her head on Samara’s shoulder, rocking back and forth slightly.

  “It’s over,” Cade said softly. “Almost, I guess.”

  “It’s over for them,” Talon said. “It’s over for Aryn. They can rebuild now. The Alliance will help them—they know it’s the least they can do. And we…” He looked around at the Dragons. “We will go find Soras. He isn’t the Warlord anymore.” He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t suppose I could get you to join us.”