Chapter 20

She watched him and his pack leave, racing back down the mountainside, past the rocks and across the icy ground, two of the members making sure the silderhyde and his ashora companion stayed with them.

She felt a tug on her sleeve. Freys came around beside her. "We should get back inside before dark."

The light of the sun was slipping, and it was already growing colder. She wished Draka had gotten another coat before he'd gone, but he'd been so eager to hunt for the intruders, he'd taken off before anyone could mention it.

"He's going to be fine," Freys said, trying to assure her. "He's gone out like this before. Come on." He tugged at her sleeve again, trying to get her to follow.

She obeyed, only because it was no use standing there with the wind biting at her face. She backed away, turning for the base, allowing Freys to lead while Targus stayed close behind.

They took the path beside the stream, unhurried. She could see the base above and the tower close up ahead.

Her haven. For now.

She considered Draka's words to her again inside the cave as they walked in silence. He was going to get them out, she really believed it. She was anxious to see the mechanism—the weapon—he was going to use to make that happen. She wasn't ecstatic still that he'd made another weapon, but he swore it was to free them. And for that she could forgive him. This place was wrong. Even if most of the prisoners deserved to be locked up, they didn't deserve to be enslaved. Hopefully something better would come of this world.

As they crossed the bridge, her thoughts turned to what would happen after. She—and Draka—would be felons on the run. He'd told her before that he had a few places in mind that he'd go, and there had to be somewhere they could be safe. If they did find such a place, maybe they really could make a difference somewhere else. Maybe she could return to the fuel project she'd been working so hard on, and this time have exactly what she needed to create it, no nasty workarounds, no karaki secretions, no one else getting hurt in the process. Finish it the right way.

She felt lifted again, her steps quickening as they came upon the tower. She was ready to get out, ready to take on anything the galaxy threw at her and Draka.

A few of the tower watchmen were sighted, walking their way, an uugari with yellow scales leading them. She lifted a hand to greet them when Freys halted, putting out an arm to stop her.

"Who put you out here, Ikar?" he said to the uugari. "You're supposed to be on water duty."

"Change of plans," Ikar said. His gaze moved beyond Freys to her.

In an instant, Freys let out a snarl and whirled around toward her. Before she could bring her hand to the hilt of her blade, another of similar making was at her throat, sharp end pressing just below her chin.

"Back away, Freys," Targus hissed.

Freys growled in response, teeth bared.

Ria didn't move, didn't even breathe as Targus shifted behind her, careful to not move his blade off her. His warm breath brushed at her ear. "Try anything and she'll bleed out before you can howl for help."

Ikar and three of the other watchers closed in, a lanky ashora with a scarred mouth and two kyrwori, one with black fur, the other silver. Freys snapped at them but they hardly flinched. They had the advantage and knew it.

"We"re gonna go," Targus said. "Don't follow." He moved, forcing Ria to move with him. She caught Freys' eyes and could see him grow still, knowing he was in deep shit when Draka returned.

Carefully they moved off from the tower. When they made the mistake of turning their backs, Freys struck.

He went for Ikar first, lunging at him, a blade she hadn't seen him take out already in his hand. The lanky ashora joined in, both blocking Freys' way to her.

"Let's go," Targus commanded. He released his knife from her and shoved her down. She went for her blade, freeing it from the hilt, but the two kyrwori were on her in an instant, one kicking the blade out of her hand and the other hitting her across her face so hard she saw stars, a black cloud casting over her sight. She went limp, her knees buckling. Before she face-planted on the ground, one of the kyrwori caught her, then lifted her up on his shoulders.

"Move!" she heard Targus yell. The kyrwori took off down the mountainside, snow and ice splashing into her face. In the distance, she heard a piercing howl that was quickly silenced.

Halfway down, when her head had cleared and they got sick of her struggling, they tied her hands and feet together, wrapping cloth around her mouth to stifle her screams. It was already hard to move in Draka's large coat, but she fought all the same. Only when she started to tire and found it pointless when nothing she did slowed them down did she force herself to remain still, trying to keep what little energy she might have left. Fear gripped her knowing where they must be taking her. Rage filled her too for the same reason.

After everything, this was how she was going to go out?

No, Draka had to come for her—he would come for her.

And he'll be too late, said a little voice.

Her insides twisted, heart sinking to her stomach. Margrul might play with her for a little while, or he might slit her throat as soon as they dropped her at his feet. It didn't matter in the end.

Night fell as they moved out of Draka's territory and into terrain that sat between the mines and the edge of the city. From the kyrwori's shoulder, she could see the lights across to the west. They moved up another hillside and along a set of cliffs. Targus and the kyrwori never stopped. Not until they came upon a building some ways from the city. One that even in the night she recognized.

The same building where she had first killed the uugari, Margrul's second in command.

They moved inside and set her down against a set of crates, the same ones she'd discovered when she first entered the place many weeks ago. The place was too dark to see if anything else had changed.

They waited there for what felt like hours, Targus watching her while the other two guarded the front. She could only watch him back, the cloth keeping her silent. But her eyes told him everything she felt.

He glared back at her, his mouth widening. "Give me that look all you want," he said. "It changes nothing. I'll be gone before Draka can even think to look for me. And you'll be dead." He laid a heavy hand on her head as if to pet her but instead jerked her head forward. "Weak. How could one of you have killed my kith? Your luck ends now, human scum."

He moved away, leaving her alone in the dark where all she could hear was the sound of water trickling from above.

Eventually, Ikar and the scarred ashora caught up, giving no indication of whether Freys survived their fight. But they looked like they got out fairly unscathed. They moved around her, talking low to one another, then the kyrwori with silver fur picked her up like last time and they headed toward the door.

The building must have been the beginning of Margrul's territory as she caught flags flapping in the wind with a familiar symbol on tattered cloth. They must have made the building theirs recently because she hadn't seen them there when she'd explored the first time.

They trudged up a path on a rise, then broke into a run at the top. She didn't see much, only hearing the crunch of their footsteps. She lifted her head and caught a glance of the moons rising to the east. Draka would be back to the base by now.

Several strides on and she noticed firelight not far ahead. The fire grew brighter until a wall came into view, and she heard voices as they passed the wall into a courtyard. Inmates—Margrul's pack—lingered within. They passed through a wide doorway and short anti-chamber into a room washed by an orange glow and the heat of a fire. They moved across the room, past the bonfire, and set her down.

The room had a high ceiling with an opening at the top, and there were drawings all over the walls, reminding her of the Antiom, what once might have been paintings but were now scribbled over by ugly symbols and letters. There were doors leading to others passages with lights along the ground similar to the tunnelways in the mountain.

There was movement at the corner of her eye, a hulking shadow at the back of the room. Out from the darkness, Margrul appeared, his face as grotesque as the last time she saw him, made more savage by the firelight.

He strode calmly toward her, forcing her to crane her neck up at him.

"Draka, what an arrogant fool," Margrul said, in a low raspy voice. He stopped in front of her, white eyes raking her over. "Did he tell you that mountain once belonged to me? I consider this fair payment, his little pet. You stole something from me too." He nudged her with his boot. "A good friend, someone who was by my side since the beginning. You took him from me." He crouched down so that her sight was almost in line with his. "I should toss you into the fire and watch you burn. But I want Draka to see your corpse. I'll hang it from the Antiom for all to see." He sprayed her with spit as he spoke, making her wince, his breath making her gag.

"That will come at dawn. For now"—he rose and backed away from her—"you can suffer in a way Draka made another of my own suffer."

The two kyrwori picked her up and dragged over to the back. Another inmate opened a door in the ground. She screamed as they tossed her in. She fell down a set of stairs, landing on her side, sharp pain stabbing into her ribs, before rolling a little ways in. She lay curled up in a fetal position, pain burning up her shoulder and side. She didn't even try to move as the door slammed shut above her, washing her in cold darkness.

She didn't know how long she lay there, curled into herself, pain washing over her every time she inhaled. She prayed something wasn't broken. She was almost too scared to move to find out.

But she couldn't stay in that position forever. She heard things scurrying in the dark, moving closer. She was of the belief that if there was one species that could be found on every ship and every world, it was a rat or something to its equivalent. And if there were hoards of them, she'd be picked clean by morning.

The cold air seeped through her coat into her bones, making her shiver. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to shift onto her knees. She groaned, planting her hands flat on the frigid ground, her breath coming in short puffs. She lifted her head and tried to look around. She could hear the scurrying and scratching of some creature around and even above her.

She stared in the dark, trying to see what it was, feeling around with her hands. The earth under her was uneven, like most cave floors. She knelt there waiting for movement, but she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. She reached out in hopes of feeling something, a wall, a rock, anything.

Something whipped by her head, then a second later slashed across her outreached hand. She shrieked as she jerked her hand away, her skin on fire. She gripped her hand in her other and felt the blood trickling down her wrist from the spot where her flesh had been ripped away by unseen talons. Quickly, she lifted the hood of the coat over her head to protect her face and slid back in hopes that she'd hit a corner of the room and could protect herself. Instead, she knocked into something. No, several somethings, hearing them clatter across the floor. Her good hand touched whatever she'd run into, and she knew right away it wasn't just pieces of rock. Nor was it metal. At first, she thought it was sticks, curving and bending in weird ways. Then her hand settled on something more rounded, her thumb brushing across a hollow space, like…like a socket…

Her stomach twisted and she jerked her hand back yet again as she cried out in disgust.

Bones. There were bones around her.

Panicking, she tried to get away, but they were everywhere, scattered all across the unseen ground. Then they were underneath her as she tried to scramble away, discovering a pile.

Everywhere, they were everywhere.

A scream tore up her throat, and the skittering heightened around her. Several winged creatures flew past, and she covered herself with her arms. She felt them against her back, tearing at the coat, creatures with long talons and what she imagined were long, spindly legs. They hardly made a noise save for their talons scraping against the walls and their wings flapping nearby.

Terror gripped her, and she curled into herself even more, every so often something hitting her, then landing on her. She'd shake them off only for more to come back. The creatures were beginning to circle her.

She dared search the ground with her hand until she felt the side of a bone, a thick thigh from what she could make out. She gripped it firmly, then swung it behind her, hitting one of the creatures. It hissed but hardly made any other sound. She swung again and they flew off her, back above.

She crawled around the piles of bones, swinging out whenever she heard the flapping wings nearby. She moved slowly across the cave floor until finally she found one wall, a rock piece jutting out above her head. She slid underneath it and pressed her back in, hoping the rock was fixed firmly into the cave wall and didn't crush her.

She kicked away pieces of bone, then curled into herself once more, cradling her bad hand against her while gripping the thigh bone tight, hoping the little flying monsters didn't come down to swarm her.

She was stuck where she was. Stuck and alone. And if the creatures didn't tear her apart, she had death to look forward to by morning.

Till dawn, he'd said. And that was hours away.

She tried to take deep breaths. She could already feel her energy draining, like all she wanted to do was take a nap.

Don't fall asleep, she ordered silently. Don't give in. Draka will come…Draka will come.

He has to.

Just hold on.