Flight of Dragons
Page 76
The rest of the impressive, electric blue and silver dragon blew into the control room on a rush of freezing air. D’skeku troopers outfitted in shiny helmets and body armor to match their leader flanked the mighty beast’s scaly sides. They trailed behind him into a double file well clear of his deadly tail. Each man wielded a high-output blaster.
Diablo loosed a killing fireball. His strike bounced off Prado’s thick neck. The lethal strike failed to raise so much as a blister on the massive dragon.
Worse, the move cost Diablo. He fought to stay upright while reaching deep for more strength. A reserve of power he’d never tapped rose to meet his command. This time he tightened his aim at the dragon’s head. He let out another shot of white-hot fire. The searing flame hit true, melting one baleful eye.
The beast’s screams of fury roared throughout the center on a freezing wind.
Diablo’s knees buckled and he crumbled—spent.
***
Frantic to keep him safe, Zaynah grabbed his ankles and dragged him behind the closest barricade. Satisfied he was out of the line of fire, she fought to control her racing heart in order to assess his injuries. His chest rose and fell so slightly that for a second she feared he’d quit breathing. A heart-stopping moment passed then she found a pulse.
She dared a fast peek at the fighting, watching in stunned terror as dragon-created icy gusts tumbled Xeth’s troops. Each wave of Prado’s wicked talons tainted the atmosphere with a sharp peppery odor that had her pressing her knuckles hard against her the bottom of her nose to quell a sneezing fit.
Her chest tightened and the very air seemed thinner, despite the smoke from the raging battle. With a start she realized the beast’s inhalations were leeching oxygen from the room.
The stations forces crumpled from oxygen deprivation as much as from the fierce winds the beast commanded. The dragon batted aside exhausted soldiers as if they were playthings while his fresh troops fired lethal blasts.
She watched the destruction in hypnotic horror. The giant monster left a trail of raw carnage in his wake. Huge silver talons slashed through human flesh with the casual grace of an expert chef slicing vegetables.
A scream froze in her throat as she realized she was looking at a reflection of her own inner dragon. She was just like him—a terrifying creature straight from a nightmare.
No one loved a monster.
The mighty beast paused to wipe out a reinforced station before moving ahead. His goal was all too clear. Every lumbering step moved him a few milors closer to where Gunn stood, manning skynet. He was exposed and alone, controlling the meteor showers that kept the rest of the imperial troops from landing.
She searched the room for help. Their ragged defenders were down to three battered squads. Every warrior alive had sustained serious injury.
Gunn looked as grim as she felt, but he didn’t falter, working the complicated console in spite of an ugly gash on his right side oozing his life force. The strain showed in the white lines around his mouth and in a scowl of concentration that seemed permanently etched across his brutally handsome face.
Ozone from the blasters, the metallic reek of the dragon’s icy breaths, and the coppery scent of blood commingled, making her stomach heave.
Grunts of pain, the weapons’ din, and the beast’s roars flooded her ears until she grew deaf to the battering noise. She crouched over Diablo, her hands curled into helpless fists.
His eyelids fluttered, riveting her attention.
“Don’t try to talk.” She scrubbed away a stray tear rolling down her cheek.
“Shift babe, you can take him.” He coughed.
His eyes drifted closed and his chest stilled. The heart-felt words of encouragement had cost him dearly.
She pressed anxious fingers to his pulse. The beat slowed and weakened.
She glanced at Gunn, seeking help and realized there was nothing he could do. He needed every bit of strength to keep skynet functional.
Anger and a helpless despair threatened to overwhelm her. She bit her knuckles to muffle a hysterical giggle.
She yanked back from the edge of total meltdown, lifting her chin in defiance. She straightened her spine and clenched her fists. She wasn’t going to hide in a sniveling ball of cowardice while Prado killed Diablo and Gunn.
No way in the seven hells would she let him win.
She’d be back on Basilisk Prime, her soul already dead from the loss of mates she’d failed to save. She’d rather die fighting for them.
She edged away, distancing herself from Diablo.
“You can do this, sweetheart.” Gunn’s deep voice rippled with pride and certainty, infusing her with confidence.
A new awareness sharpened, forging a connection with heat and energy all around her. Little sparks, tiny flames, and smoldering ruins littered the room. Beneath the station the moon itself had a core of molten lava that whispered promises of endless strength. Every spark of fire in the command center turned toward her, as if answering her need. She beckoned them closer by will alone. To her amazement they responded. Some rolled, others flew. She opened her arms and her soul, welcoming them. She absorbed each spark and ember, giving them shelter and humbly accepting their power.
Those licks, from a thousand different fires, sustained her spirit as her skin stretched and ripped, muscles swelled and tore, bones cracked and broke. Smooth scales spread, replacing her fragile human hide, strong forearms and powerful haunches grew where weak limbs had been. Gradually a sturdy new skeleton knitted into place.
“Easy lass, let the wyvern find her balance.” Xeth called.
Compared to Prado she was dainty—no more than a third his size. She hurt everywhere, but each precious spark she’d absorbed gave her strength. Best of all, her new form came with impressive talons, razor-edged teeth, and a belly roiling with fire.
She gritted the daggers rimming her mouth and turned to defend her mates, her massive legs wobbled and she steadied herself with a new, wide tail, praying the agony eased long enough for her to kill Prado.
Chapter Ten
Eddies of icy wind swirled around Gunn, but the smoke and dust were settling. At least the beast had stopped buffeting their troops with gusts of freezing air.
Gunn assessed the battleground from the edge of his vision while keeping his main focus trained on controlling the meteor shower over the moon.
Another enemy’s troop transport flamed out, careening into the particle storm that raged continually in the narrow band of null space where the galaxies met. An imperial ship reversed course, heading toward home, probably low on fuel. A fierce grin thinned his lips as he guided the natural meteor storm toward the last royal vessel still hovering.
A new spacecraft entered their sector, too far away to attack. He contented himself with a scowl and muttered curse.
“Attend me, Zaynah,” Prado’s voice rumbled through the center so thick and distorted with compulsion his words were barely comprehensible.
The beast’s demand prickled down Gunn’s spine.
Zaynah stumbled toward the monster.
Gunn’s fearful prickles morphed into leaden terror.
“No!” He risked taking his focus from skynet to plead with his mate.
She turned back. For a moment her gaze caught and tangled with his. Although small, she was an adult dragon. Her gorgeous eyes glowed with ruby fire and glints of regret that tugged at his heart.
She was magnificent, taller and wider than her human form, but delicate by wyvern standards. Brilliant red scales covered all of her except for her voluptuous underbelly. There she gleamed a warm ivory. Wicked, burnished talons extended from her hands and feet. Seconds ticked by as she wavered, caught between their connection and Prado.
Fresh fear thickened, threatening to douse his embers as he remembered she fought a lifetime of imperial conditioning.
“Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he pled, trusting his mate remained conscious and aware inside the beautiful reptile.
/> Her wide mouth parted as if she wanted to answer. Instead of words, small flames erupted from her throat along with a loud belch.
Fuck. He’d forgotten this was her first shift. His mate had to hurt from her dainty ears to her lethal talons. She struggled to walk, let alone control her beast and fight off Prado’s orders. The mating bond tightened, compelling him to rescue her.
“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. It takes time to coordinate a different set of muscles.” Gunn swallowed a groan of frustration for her dilemma and his.
A flicker of movement on the display warned him he had to attend the console. He hated abandoning Zaynah, but they’d all die if he didn’t run skynet.
“Come!” Prado roared.
Gunn clenched his jaw and finished nudging a large meteor closer to collision before risking another peek at Zaynah.
Her gaze dropped to the rubble strewn floor as she took a faltering step nearer to the evil emperor.
Chained by duty, there wasn’t a fucking thing Gunn could do to help her. His chest constricted as if the bloody dragon’s fist had wrapped around him squeezing out the last of his life’s blood.
“Closer, d’skeku I have need of you.” Prado stretched out a massive forearm, reaching for her. His lethal silver talons flicked to full extension from scaly blue paws.
His wicked claws halved the distance between them.
The last of the station’s forces pounded the imperial troops, hitting the royal guards and the giant dragon again and again. The enemy troopers’ shields shimmied, distorting the smoky air, but held. The killing blasts tarnished the beast’s scaly hide, but failed to do any real damage.
Maybe Gunn was wrong and the steady onslaught wore the old worm down, because he shifted his immense weight from one haunch to the other.
“Hurry, pet. Together we’re unstoppable. We’ll rid this rock of vermin and claim Ranin Seven for the empire,” the monster rumbled, fixing its one good eye on Zaynah.
Gunn’s stomach muscles clenched, sickened by the compulsion underlining the Prado’s demand and he’d only caught a hint of the unholy power aimed at his female.
Worse, his ancient enemy spoke truth. If Zaynah ceded her strength to Prado, then the allies had no chance.
Desperate, Gunn sought frantically for some strategy to stop the disaster unfolding in front of him. He came up empty. Their men were doing all they could to slay the dragon and failing. He couldn’t lift a claw against Zaynah. She was his mate—his heart—the reason he breathed.
He’d gladly lay down his life for hers. The desire to protect her burned hotter the closer she got to the monstrous dragon until the need and his helplessness, threatened to consume his sanity. He was failing at what mattered most, impotent against the evil beast bent on destroying everything he held dear.
The back of his eyes stung with something worse than than smoking syns. He wanted to weep for Zaynah. She’d never had the chance to experience the sheer joy of unleashing her flame.
Bloody dragonheads, he couldn’t let her go. Dragons were hard to kill. Not impossible. Fire consumed air and he was a fire-master.
He reached inside himself, gathering his power and calling for the Goddess to guide his aim.
The comlink squawked to life. “Ranin Seven, we’re locked and loaded for royal dragon hunting, requesting permission to land.”
Briefly Gunn wondered who it was, then dismissed the curiosity. Right then he would’ve welcomed the Goddess of Air her evil self, if she’d help kill his enemies.
“Permission granted,” he growled. “Put her down wherever you can. Our tarmac has been blown to the seven hells.”
“Gotcha.” The connection ended.
At last, the remaining imperial transport he’d been bombarding imploded. Gunn took the explosion as a positive omen, unleashing the power he’d gathered.
His aim stayed true, striking Prado’s tender snout.
The dragon roared, flailing his forearms, clawing the air, and thrashing his tail. His long, forked tongue darted out, frantically lapping at the torn flesh.
Caught in his whiplash, Zaynah stumbled a few steps backward and found her balance. Shaken, she swayed.
Blood and snot gushed from the wound Gunn dealt. He made the only possible choice. He abandoned skynet, grabbed a blaster, and joined the battle.
***
A shard of fresh pain pierced Diablo’s consciousness, rousing him from exhaustion. His throat felt like he’d swallowed a load of hot, sulfurous gravel. He’d sell his soul for a couple kilters of ice water. Every breath took energy he didn’t have. He patted his healing wound; sore, but not crippling. So what dragon-cursed torture device squeezed his chest?
A fresh jolt of agony seared his right shoulder. He realized the pain wasn’t his. Zaynah was hurting. Thanks to their bond, he shared her misery.
Her suffering propelled him into action. He reached deep into the moon’s core, replenishing his strength and struggled to teetering hooves. Dizziness nearly toppled him. Gray edges widened, threatening his vision.
Gradually he steadied. At last his sight cleared as the Goddess’s mercy infused him with power. He zeroed in on his mate.
A few milors to his left, she trembled. Her generous mouth clenched against the pain. Her body was still hunched and awkward from her first torturous shift. She shrugged as if to ease a muscle twinge. Her right shoulder popped so loudly, he winced.
Careless of his own safety, he crossed the distance separating them.
“Easy, babe. It kills me to see you hurting.”
She made a rumbling noise then used their bond to speak directly in his thoughts.
I can’t quit now. I have to fight Prado. If I don’t defeat him, then he’ll drain my power and use me against you.
Her selfless intention stopped Diablo as effectively as a stun blast, for a flat second before he seized control of the connection between them to send her strength, hoping to ease her pain.
She staggered, lost her balance, and wrenched a knee when her new tail moved in the wrong direction too fast for her to correct.
Diablo winced, angry at his helplessness to prevent another painful injury. He angled away trying to get a grip on his temper. The unoccupied commander’s post caught his attention, giving him a new target for his frustrations.
His brother had abandoned skynet.
Diablo strode to the console, scanning the security system’s displays. He started with the ground level images. An intergalactic cruiser had landed practically on top of the station.
“What the fuck, Gunn?”
“They hailed me and offered to help. I gave them clear passage.” Thanks to acute demon hearing, his brother heard and answered.
Diablo snorted.
“Oldest trick in the book. And you fell for it. Do you want to lie down and surrender now or can I beat the seven hells out of you first?”
“Why don’t you shut up and take some of that misplaced aggression out on the enemy? Or had you forgotten we’re in the middle of a bloody dragon-cursed battle?” Gunn lobbed a fire ball he’d been honing. He hit true, blasting the emperor’s already wounded snout.
The beast howled and averted his wounded face.
Maybe Gunn bought Zaynah a little time to master her dragon, but Diablo wasn’t ready to overlook abandoning his post.
“Nice shot. If you survive, I’m still going to kick your sorry ass,” Diablo promised gruffly.
Without thinking, he mimicked Gunn by ignoring skynet.
He pulled fire from the rock below them to join the fight. Satisfied he had enough firepower to dent the old worm’s hide he loosed his flame. A white-hot lighting strike flew from his mouth, opening a seam on their enemy’s underbelly.
“If we survive, I’ll let you,” Gunn growled, gathering strength for another shot.
A fresh influx of soldiers interrupted their argument.
At least the men weren’t wearing royal colors. Diablo didn’t give a flying fuck who they were as lo
ng as they fought on their side.
New troops filed in, quickly taking a reinforced position and hitting the enemy hard.
The mighty dragon lowered his head to avoid losing his remaining eye.
Diablo breathed a sigh of relief.
The fresh troops and Gunn bought the Zaynah time to fight Prado’s commands.
If she didn’t survive then nothing else mattered.
Diablo schooled his expression to remain stoic and angled to check on his love. She was still growing into her beast. Her shoulders had broadened and were several feet higher off the ground than when he’d last seen her. Her sleek black mane was now a topknot on a large, triangular head with an impressive muzzle and lots of sharp fangs where a pert nose, sensuous mouth, and stubborn, pointy chin used to be. Her legs had grown into powerful haunches. Her arms were relatively normal, if he discounted the brilliant red scales and the wicked claws. The tail was definitely impressive. She was gorgeous, dangerous, and stunningly healthy looking.
In spite of her built-in weapons, Zaynah’s golden belly still looked much too vulnerable for his comfort.
On the downside, she struggled to manage her tail, had no experience using her new assets, and was still less than half Prado’s size.
The emperor had perfected his fighting skills over centuries. Would young and strong win over old and treacherous?
He needed to improve her chances. An angry lick of fire blazed up his throat he swallowed hard, letting the inferno in his gut heat and build. He drew more power from the fires smoldering around them, determined to give her as much help as possible.
When he loosened his flame if roared from his mouth, meeting and melding with Gunn’s before searing under the vulnerable scales on Prado’s underbelly.
The new allied soldiers followed their strike with blaster pulses that shook the station and rocked the giant monster, but didn’t incapacitate him.
The evil worm blew an icy gust so strong men and armament and even some of the heavy barricades slammed against the south wall.