Dragon's Capture Page 12

  “Free, together,” Mesto nods so enthusiastically it looks like it could break his neck. “Mesto free. Yes, ha!”

  “If we meet in arena? What then?” K’sara asks.

  Over our time together I’ve learned that K’sara is practical to a fault.

  “Are all arena battles to the death?” I ask, looking around to see if anyone actually knows.

  “No,” Todd says, sitting up and scooting around until his back is against the wall.

  Todd’s shirt rides up across his protruding belly, revealing more of the swirling black tattoos that cover his yellow skin, intertwining around the blue striations. He scratches himself, coughs loudly, then turns his head and spits.

  “Then we do what we have to do,” I say.

  “Some will be though,” he says. “Blood Fights make the most money, but they’re rare. Usually for troublemakers. Like you.”

  “Good to know,” Visidion says.

  “I’ll kill you, if I have to,” Todd says. “But I don’t want to. Not anymore.”

  “Thanks,” I say, glancing over at Visidion.

  Visidion can’t hide his anger, not from me. The edges of his scales are a bright red, a sure sign he’s pissed. Todd is big, but he doesn’t seem to be quick or well muscled, both of which Visidion is. A match between them would probably go to Visidion. Putting a hand on Visidion’s shoulder, I smile, trailing my fingers up his neck to cup his face. Now is not the time for him to be consumed by rage.

  “What say you all?” I ask.

  “Cenar agree,” he grumbles.

  “Mesto free, Mesto want,” he says.

  “Why not,” K’sara answers.

  All of us shift and stare at Todd. He’s leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed, apparently oblivious to all of us. We wait, bated breath, until I have to breathe.

  “Todd?” I prompt.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Are you in?” I ask.

  “What about wings? Haven’t heard him speak,” he says.

  “I’m in, of course,” Visidion says.

  “What do you mean, of course?” Todd challenges.

  Visidion hisses, rising to a crouch, the chain clanking. Anger rolls off him in hot waves.

  This is a terrible moment for the bijass to turn him into a raging alpha male asserting his dominance.

  Shifting quickly to put myself between him and Todd, I put both my hands on his face. His eyes are clouding over. I can see the rage taking control of him. Behind me chains drag across the floor as Todd shifts, ready to meet Visidion’s attack. I have to stop this. Visidion grips my arms, his muscles tense, and in a moment he’ll move me aside, and everything will be ruined.

  Leaning forward quickly, I kiss him. I smash my lips into his so fast I hit with a bruising force. Ignoring the instant of pain, I shove my tongue into his mouth. His mouth resists, a moment, then his hard lips relax and move against mine, his tongue rises to meet mine as he returns the kiss in full.

  Gasps surround us, then I hear Mesto cheering, jumping up and down by the sound of his chains clanking, and clapping his hands.

  “HA!” Mesto cries out.

  The tension drains from Visidion. His lips, soft and warm against mine, his tongue dancing with mine, make my body respond, core tightening as my heart rate increases. His strong arms embrace me, pulling me tight. Molding against him, I open myself to him, forgetting our audience. His wings open then close around us, shielding the moment from view.

  “Ah, fair not! Ha!” Mesto grouses.

  Parting for air, I smile and Visidion returns the same.

  “Better?” I ask.

  “It’s always better, with you,” he whispers.

  “Good,” I smile.

  Pushing away he folds his wings back and I turn to face our fellow prisoners.

  “I’m in,” Visidion says, gaze locked on Todd.

  The tension rises while Todd stares back at Visidion. I don’t know if Todd is being deliberately difficult or not. It’s hard to read him. Mesto’s head is turning back and forth between them, a stupid grin on his face showing the sharp teeth along his long mouth. It almost looks like he’s panting. Does he want to see these two throw down?

  “Okay,” Todd says finally.

  “You’re in?” I ask, pushing him to state his intentions.

  “For now,” he shrugs.

  Anger shoots through me, and almost I open my mouth. I manage to snap it shut before I say sharp words that will not help me accomplish my goals.

  “Good,” I say.

  It is good. Good enough, anyway, and the most I can hope for right now. The ship bucks and shimmies, sure signs we’re entering a gravity field. We’ll land soon. I hope my vague plan of escape will work. Until we land, I lean back to the wall and close my eyes, letting the rough vibrations rock me into a mindless state of resting.

  The door to our cell slides open with a creak. Four Zzlo guards stand outside it in full space armor, weapons at the ready. One of them enters, walks over to Cenar, and unlocks his chain from the wall. The other three have their weapons focused on him the entire time. Cenar stares at me as the Zzlo prods him with its gun. Slowly he climbs to his feet, and subtly I shake my head, letting him know it’s not time yet. I’m watching for an opportunity for us to escape. I don’t think, even if we all go together, we can take the ship. I’m hoping a better option appears.

  Once Cenar is on his feet, the Zzlo drags Cenar’s chain over to Mesto. Before he unlocks the chain holding Mesto to the wall, he attaches a collar to Mesto’s neck, then hooks Cenar’s chain to it. Instead of unlocking Mesto’s chain from the wall, he walks out into the hallway. Another one of the guards there steps into the doorway, grabbing a small box that was attached to his belt. He raises the box before him, holding it out as if offering it to us. His thumb smashes down on the box and Mesto screams, eyes wide, body convulsing. An instant later Cenar drops to his knees, his deep rumbly voice screaming in pain.

  “Stop it!” I scream, pain tearing through my chest, watching them suffer for no reason.

  The guard with the box looks at me, grinning. The dreadlocks-like tentacles that serve as hair, each decorated with metal rings, clatter when he turns. A smile spreads across his grotesque face, his dead eyes shining with inner delight. He holds his thumb down longer, watching me. Hands balling into fists, I fight with every fiber of my being the instinct to go into action. Closing my eyes, I will my hands to unclench and my jaw to stop grinding.

  When I open my eyes, he’s still staring at me with that nightmarish grin. At last, he lifts his thumb and the screams stop. Mesto and Cenar both drop to the floor, panting heavily. Mesto is whimpering in pain, Cenar suffers silently.

  The guard with the box steps back out into the hallway. The first one returns and continues his work of placing collars on each of us and then attaching the other prisoners’ chains. When he comes to me, I meet his eyes and swear silently to myself that I will end him. Somehow, someday, I will destroy these evil bastards. Gershom had been my standard of bad but the Zzlo put him to shame. Gershom is power hungry, but underneath that he’s scared. I’ve always known that about him, which allowed me to be compassionate towards him. Looking in this monster’s eyes, I don’t see anything but emptiness. No pleasure, no joy, almost no life—nothing but pure empty evil.

  The collar clicks around my neck with a soft snap that sounds much louder in my ears than it actually is. Focusing, I keep my breathing even, making myself appear calm despite the storm raging in my heart. He moves on to Visidion and attaches the final collar, then goes to stand with the other guards.

  “Move,” one of them orders.

  Cenar climbs to his feet, and then gives a hand to Mesto. He turns at last and walks. Two of the guards move back down the hall and the other two hold the chain leading all of us, pulling us along. My hopes of escape diminish. The chain gives them an edge that I hadn’t expected. I’m certain that it can kill us if they want. Heart sinking, I move forward, str
uggling to keep a glimmer of hope alive.

  16

  Visidion

  The bijass ebbs and swells at the edge of my thoughts as we’re led off the ship.

  “Visidion,” Rosalind whispers, glancing over her shoulder.

  “Yes?” I respond but forming the word takes an effort, pushing past the urge to destroy our captors.

  “Trust me,” she says.

  Her soft voice cuts through the red fog, appealing, calling me to reason. Trust. Can I? She’s been wrong before. Gershom is her mistake. She was blind to him despite my warning.

  One mistake doesn’t change who she is or my feelings. Trust her. I do.

  The chains clank as we walk. She’s right, now is not our chance. Focus on surviving, and we’ll figure the rest out.

  As we are led down the ramp off the ship, the air outside is cool on my scales. We emerge onto a decaying spaceport. The processed material of the pad is pitted with holes, and cracks run across the entire surface, clear signs of long neglect. Directly ahead of us sits a row of buildings that have metal infrastructure sticking out of the stone walls. Multiple other ships dot the spaceport but none of them appear to be in good repair.

  A dozen different aliens move about the area, whether they’re doing work or wandering aimlessly isn’t clear. The four Zzlo guarding us herd us forward towards one of the buildings. There’s a black gaping hole that might once have been a door but is now a broad opening. Emerging from the black hole comes a massive, hulking creature that puts Todd to shame for size. It’s at least twice my size, maybe more. Its purple skin covers rippling mountains of muscles. It walks hunched over at the waist, shoulders rolled forward. A heavy protruding brow gives it the appearance of being barely more than an animal. On its shoulder is a creature no more than two feet tall with big eyes that dominate its round face. It seems to be lashed to the monstrosity of a walking mountain and guiding it by pulling on its ears.

  “Far enough!” the small thing yells.

  The Zzlo stop their forward progress, while the three not holding the chain prod us into a line with the butts of their weapons.

  “Gladiators,” the one holding the chain says. “Good ones.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?” the small creature says, tugging on the thing’s ear.

  The purple monster moves to the end of the line then leans even further over until I’m surprised it doesn’t fall over. The small creature leans forward and inspects Todd at the end of the line.

  “Hmm,” he muses. “Not bad. Bit worn, though, isn’t it? What did you feed it to make it so fat?”

  “It’s not fat, it’s mass,” the lead Zzlo answers. “Good for holding position in the arena.”

  “Hah!” Mesto exclaims.

  The small creature jerks hard on its mounts ear and it turns so that he’s now facing Mesto.

  “Like that, did you, scrawny thing? It’s pretty clear this one ate your share. What good are you going to be in the arena? You’ll not last two microns,” he says.

  Mesto straightens to his full, scrawny height. The rags he wears shift in the wind to show his ribs.

  “Mesto fights mightily,” he says. “Hah! Mesto you take, Mesto skilled.”

  “At what, boring them to death?” the little buyer says.

  “Hah!” Mesto responds, baring the rows of sharp teeth in his snout.

  “We’ll see,” he says, frowning. He walks down the line, inspecting, pausing at me. “Zmaj?” he asks, looking at the Zzlo. “Nice.”

  My scales crawl, and my hands clench tight, because I’m fighting the urge to grab it and smash it under my foot. Now is not the time; I know it; but every instinct screams for me to fight. Rosalind’s calm becomes a rock for me. She stands tall and straight, her head held high, an aura of control about her, despite our situation.

  He moves down the line, coming to Rosalind.

  “Female?” he says, looking at the Zzlo. “What do I do with a female, huh?”

  “She’s a fighter,” the Zzlo answers.

  “So you claim,” he says. “Last female you brought me didn’t last three fights.”

  “She’s better,” he says. “Best of the lot.”

  “I’ll judge that,” he says, manipulating his ride until his face is so close to Rosalind they’re almost touching.

  My core tightens, muscles tensed, knees bent. It’s a feat to keep myself from leaping on him now. Rosalind doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t show any sign of discomfort as he leans around her face.

  “If you don’t want her, I’ll sell her to Vin’taris,” the Zzlo says, indifferent. “He’ll be happy to pay a good price for her.”

  The Zzlo pulls a device off his belt, holding it in the same hand as the chain, poking at it with a finger.

  “Heh? No!” the buyer responds. “No, I’ll take them all.”

  “Two hundred fifty,” the Zzlo says.

  “Robbery!” he exclaims. “Seventy-five!”

  “The Zmaj alone is worth more,” the Zzlo answers.

  They barter back and forth. Acid fills my stomach, creating nausea, as they dicker over our price. At last they come to an agreement, and the chain holding us all is passed over to the hand of the purple creature.

  “Come,” the small thing says. “You belong to Bacca now.”

  Rosalind catches my attention and nods almost imperceptibly. Calm comes with that nod. Now is the time. We’re going to make our break. A thrill of excitement bursts through my nerves. Taking two steps forward, using the slack in the chain, I pass Rosalind, intent on the big creature. If I take it out, the small one won’t be a threat.

  Rosalind puts a hand on my arm as I pass her, and I look down to her. She shakes her head.

  “Not yet,” she mouths the words.

  Hissing, I shake my head, looking at the creature’s back in front of me, assessing its vulnerable spots.

  “The female’s right,” the thing says without looking back. “You don’t want to do that.”

  Waves of shock run across me.

  “How?” I ask.

  He turns his ride around towards the slaves. One tiny finger taps against the side of his head. “I know,” he grins.

  Cold creeps from my core and out to my limbs. It pushes the bijass aside, leaving nothing but reason in its wake. I step back into line. No matter how smart he thinks he is, every enemy makes a mistake. It’s only a matter of when and being ready when he does.

  “Hah!” Mesto says.

  I shoot a glare at him, but he grins bigger and shrugs.

  We’re led through the dark opening and into the building. My outer lenses snap open, adjusting my eyes to the change in lighting. The interior is in an even worse state of decay than the exterior. The walls have so many openings blasted through them, they can barely divide the space. Sunlight streaming through holes in the ceiling is the only source of light.

  Our despondent group treks through the wreckage, climbing over small piles of debris while moving around large ones, until at last we emerge on the other side—a busy city street. A wide variety of animals are leashed to posts along the roadside, while hundreds of different beings walk, run, barter, yell, and interact for as far as I can see in either direction. Yellow dirt forms the street, and the dust of it covers everything and everyone.

  It’s noisy, too noisy, an assault on my ears. It’s been so long since I’ve heard the sound of so many living beings in a small area. Rosalind slows her walk until she’s closer to me. She gives me a tight smile.

  “It’s okay,” she says, so softly that I read her lips more than hear her words. “Stay calm.”

  A grimace is all I can manage in return. Warmth in my core flickers knowing she is picking up on my emotions. It’s tempered by our situation. The collar around my neck chafes against my bare skin, a heavy reminder that we have nothing, not even our own freedom.

  “Hurry up,” our captor says, and then the being he rides jerks the chain forward. Cenar is pulled off his feet, slamming
to the ground with a loud crack, crying out in surprise if not pain.

  Mesto falls as the chain around his neck pulls tight with Cenar’s collapse. Seeing it coming, I move fast. Grabbing the chain in front of Rosalind, I wrap it around my arm then pull back, bracing myself. The chain jerks, but I absorb the force from it, keeping it from hitting Rosalind. Protecting her.

  As Cenar climbs back to his feet, Rosalind places a soft hand on my arm, smiling. She mouths her thanks to me as I let the chain go. The warmth grows in my core, having protected her at least that much.

  We resume our march through the city. I’m surprised no one gives us a second look. Those whose gaze does pass over us seem to not even notice we’re there. We’re not the only ones with collars, though I don’t see any others chained together as we are. Similar collars adorn at least half those I see. Watching them I see they act subservient to anyone without a collar on.

  It would seem that slaves can reach a state of being able to roam freely. I assume they are on their masters’ errands. None of the ones I see look like fighters. They don’t have the build for it. Rosalind nods her head to the right. Following her indication, I see four creatures with collars. One of them, bigger than the other three, has a lighter chain connecting them all to a box in his hand. He walks with an imperious air, and the crowd is parting before him. Even those without collars step out of his way as he walks.

  The three slaves following him are all obviously female and barely dressed. Each of them is bare chested with breasts exposed, all of them having the swells on their chests that I imagine are similar to Rosalind’s, though none of them are human or have her coloring. The three keep their eyes cast down but sway their bodies in a way that shouts sex.

  Bijass rages, rising inside me and grabbing control. My hands ball into fists, and I step to the side, with redness closing on the edges of my vision. This cannot be.

  Spreading my wings as I bend my knees, I leap, not caring about the chain on my neck. Landing in front of the haughty creature controlling the females, I slam a fist into his thin, bony face. A satisfying crunch sounds, and then blue-green blood spurts from his broken nose. He screams, a high-pitched sound like an injured bivo calf.