Dragon's Capture Page 22

  The Zmaj look at each other, then Ladon and Ragnar lock eyes. Ragnar nods and Ladon seem to agree.

  “Right,” Ragnar says, putting his lochaber away. “Let’s go home.”

  “Epis?” I ask, again desperate for the pounding in my head to stop.

  “Not with me,” Ladon shakes his head, frowning. “How bad is it?”

  “Not bad,” I lie, but the look on Ladon’s face makes it clear he knows.

  “We’ll get you some back at camp,” Ragnar says.

  Visidion helps me across the sand dunes. Ladon is the only one who seems to notice how much I’m leaning on him, more than should be required.

  The wall around the Tribe compound is mostly done. Standing ten feet tall with evenly placed slits for lookouts or shooting, it’s impressive. There isn’t a real gate yet, but the opening is blocked by frames covered with hardened leather. That would be effective to at least slow anything coming through, and enough to keep most wandering animals out. Two Zmaj pull the frames aside, allowing us to pass inside. The garden is in full bloom with colorful plants. Several humans, mostly female, are working their way through the rows weeding or digging at the irrigation channels.

  Craftsmen are working at their stalls that circle the open area inside the wall. Long tables are occupied by people working on crafts or preparing foods for storage. Things seem to be going well. Most of them are looking at us, either openly or with quick glances. Something is off but I can’t put a finger on it.

  “Good work on the wall,” Visidion says.

  “Yes,” Ragnar agrees, stopping and turning to face our group. “We’re home.”

  “Yes, we are,” Visidion says, turning a slow circle to look at the Tribe. “It’s good.”

  “Epis?” I ask, once more, forcing a smile my vision is blurring the pain is so great now.

  “Samil!” Ragnar barks. “Epis, now.”

  Samil looks up from the table where he was working on something, nods enthusiastically and runs off. In moments he’s back, a soft blue glow in his hand. He holds it out to me and I take the strand, popping it in my mouth. The familiar taste explodes across my taste buds. Warmth spreads through my cheeks, racing along my nerves, growing hotter. It’s like swallowing liquid fire that burns through my system. The pain fades, and my weakness is consumed in its flames. Sighing, I nod and swallow the last of it, feeling more like myself than I have in a long time.

  Vision clear now, I turn my attention outward. I try to put my finger on what’s bothering me, then it hits me.

  “You’re not getting along,” I say, turning to Ragnar and Ladon.

  “What do you mean, Rosalind,” Ladon asks.

  “The Tribe and the City, there’s almost no mixing, even doing the same work,” I accuse, pointing a finger in a circle around us.

  Ladon and Ragnar exchange a look that tells me I’m right. Closing my eyes, I sigh. Damn it, this isn’t what I was hoping to come back to.

  “You’re home!” Olivia exclaims, waddling forward.

  She’s very pregnant, and it obviously won’t be long before she’ll be on bed rest. As we found out with Calista, Zmaj babies take longer to come to term and the only way our bodies can manage is to go on bed rest for the last couple of months. She moves to stand next to Ragnar, who puts a protective arm around her shoulders. A movement behind them catches my eye—Mei climbing the ramp up to the caves. She sees me looking and waves, then she produces a key and unlocks the steel gate blocking off the entrance to one of the caves.

  “Who’s in that cave?” I ask.

  Ragnar looks over his shoulder then back. “Ryuth.”

  “Ah,” I say. I’d heard about him, captured by the Zzlo and tortured for who knows how long. He had given himself fully over to his bijass. “Is it safe for Mei to be in there with him?”

  Ragnar shrugs. “He likes her.”

  “She’s been working with him, says she’s getting through,” Olivia adds.

  I let it go for now, filing it away for later.

  “Ragnar, Ladon, we need to be debriefed,” I say. “How’s the food? Any word from the City?”

  “The City is gone to hell in a hand basket,” Amara interjects, walking up with a baby on her hip.

  The baby coos, looking around with big, wide eyes. His scales are deep green and his hair is reddish, edging towards brown. He smiles, a toothless showing of his gums. His tiny fingers clench in Amara’s shirt as he rocks himself back and forth, tiny tail slashing left-right in time to the rest of his motion.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “She means they’re running out of food,” Lana says from behind me. Astarot stands next to her. “Gershom didn’t think through the fact that the Zmaj did all the hunting.”

  “Or he thought his Human First idiots would be able to shoot better than they do,” Amara says.

  “They need our help,” I say.

  “No, they don’t. They’ve made their choices,” Ragnar says.

  “They do, because it’s my City!” Ladon says.

  Ragnar and he glare at each other like two opposite ends of a spectrum. Anger flaring makes their scales edging turn red.

  “Visidion, now that you’re back, can you talk some sense into him?” Ragnar asks.

  Visidion gives me a look I can’t read.

  “This isn’t the time,” he says instead of answering.

  “The prisoners you freed are here too,” Amara says. “Thanks for that, by the way,” she says with acid in her voice. “All the millions of lives on the ship you could rescue, and you find that batch.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  Amara snorts. “You’ll find out.”

  She spins on her heel and walks off. Good to know she hasn’t changed in my absence.

  “Okay,” I say. “There’s a lot to catch up on, and this isn’t working. Lana, this is Cenar, Mesto, K’sara, and Todd. Can you help them find quarters and show them around? Ragnar, Ladon, can you two come with Visidion and me and bring us up to speed, please?

  Not waiting for a response, I start walking toward Visidion’s rooms. I can feel their eyes on me as I climb the ramp. Somehow they all have to come together, get along, and focus on breeding the next generation while also figuring out how to improve our quality of life. A few little things that I wouldn’t think would be that hard to get people interested in. Except for the infighting, disagreements on what should be done. All the situation needs is Gershom and his fearmongering about the Zmaj stealing all the human females.

  Sitting at the table in Visidion’s quarters, Ragnar and Ladon avoid looking at each other. The tension in the room is high.

  “Okay,” I say. “Who’s first?”

  “We need—” they both start talking at once, spend a moment trying to dominate the other one by talking louder, then stop and glare.

  I’ve never seen a more clear-cut case of schoolyard bullies in my life.

  “Visi—” Ragnar begins at the same time that Ladon is saying my name. This turns into a fresh shouting match, and then Ladon leaps to his feet, knocking his stool over, and Ragnar is standing on his.

  “ENOUGH!” I yell, slamming a fist down on the table. “Sit, both of you.”

  They turn to me with my shout, shifting their glowers from each other to me.

  “Sit,” Visidion says.

  “Ladon, talk,” I say.

  Ladon starts telling his thoughts. Ragnar sits and listens then adds his thoughts. The Tribe and the City are doing okay here, but no one is comfortable. The City wants their comforts, and the Tribe wants them to work harder. Nothing that can’t be overcome.

  “What about over in the City?” I ask. “What do we know about what Lana said?”

  “She should learn to obey,” Ragnar huffs.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I told all the hunters to stay away from the City. They’ve made their bed; let them lie in it,” he says.

  “It’s not that simple,” I say.

  “
Yes, it is,” Ragnar says. “Ladon can get over it. He lost his city. Those who stayed behind will learn to survive, or they will die. It’s on them.”

  “Together we are stronger,” Visidion says, quoting the third edict.

  “Yes, but we don’t coddle the weak!” Ragnar shouts.

  “You do what I tell you to do,” Visidion says, his voice soft and somehow more dangerous than if he had yelled.

  Ragnar’s eyes widen, his shoulders hunch, and he leans forward as his tail rises behind him. Visidion doesn’t move or even seem to notice. He watches Ragnar, waiting unperturbed, patient. Ragnar hisses, then it’s as if he collapses on himself. Leaning back in his seat, tail dropping to the ground with a thud, he shakes his head.

  “Yes, Commander,” he says.

  Visidion nods and makes a motion with his hand that I should continue.

  “Here’s the hard truth,” I say. “We need those in the City. We need every able-bodied person, human, Zmaj, or other that we can get our hands on if we’re going to survive. We have an entire planet that needs to be repaired and repopulated. Those too old or young for babies need to help fix things. We don’t have a choice if we’re going to survive.”

  “We are surviving just fine,” Ragnar grouses.

  “Sure, right now, for your lifetime.”

  Ragnar shakes his head. “What do you mean?”

  “Your and Olivia’s child,” I say, driving my point home. “What kind of world do you want to leave him? This barren, blasted rock or something that is better than what you have?”

  Ragnar frowns, crosses his arms over his chest, and doesn’t say a word.

  “They’re running out of food,” Ladon says. “Scouts have been watching when they can. There are regular security patrols, armed, along the dome. There’s no way to get inside.”

  “Let me worry about that,” I say. “What about here?”

  The two men exchange a rare look that doesn’t mean they want to kill each other.

  “It’s fine,” Ladon says.

  “We’re getting along,” Ragnar adds.

  “And?” I ask.

  They look at each other again.

  “What is it?” Visidion asks.

  “The new people you sent,” Ladon says. “They’re not fitting in… easily.”

  “Why not?” I ask.

  “Amara,” they say in unison, then look at each other in surprise.

  “Amara? Why?” I ask.

  “Seems there’s a rivalry between her and their leader,” Ragnar says.

  “Something from before your ship crashed,” Ladon says. “She’s been stirring a lot of sentiment against them. Particularly Stancher.”

  Stancher, why does that name ring a bell?

  “How bad is it? Openly violent or casual disagreement?”

  “Disagreements,” Ladon answers.

  “Fine, we’ll get to that later then,” I say, shaking my head. “What else?”

  They both shrug.

  “Good, both of you go and make sure our new friends are comfortable,” I say.

  “Who are they?” Ladon asks.

  Visidion and I share our adventure with them leaving out some bits, mostly about us. I nudge Visidion under the table when he starts to mention the interest in epis out there. That’s a problem for later. No need to worry anyone with it now. Once they’ve heard our story, they leave.

  “What now?” Visidion asks, placing his hands on my waist.

  “I’m still pissed at you,” I say, turning my head to the side as he leans in for a kiss.

  He lets me go and steps back.

  “Oh,” he says, looking crestfallen. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be,” I say, moving back into his arms and rising onto my toes to kiss him.

  His lips are soft and cool. I break the kiss and stare into his eyes.

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” I say.

  “Life isn’t easy,” he says, arms encircling my waist. “That’s not the point. If there was no struggle then what triumph would there be? An easy life doesn’t change history, it doesn’t make a difference.”

  “True,” I sigh, laying my head on the bulging muscles of his chest. “But sometimes it sounds nice.”

  “It does,” he agrees, laughing and running his fingers through my hair.

  Pushing aside everything else for the moment I give myself into him, enjoying the strength of his arms, letting the future and all the problems wait.

  28

  Visidion

  “This is what was in the drop,” Lana says, tossing several crumpled pieces of paper on the table.

  Rosalind grabs one and straightens it before reading it. Lana shifts from foot to foot while she waits. Rosalind reads each piece of paper before leaning back in her chair, shaking her head as her brow furrows and her mouth turns down.

  “It’s bad,” she says, looking at me.

  “How bad?” I ask.

  “He’s implemented martial law,” she says. “Those armed guards aren’t to keep us out. They’re to keep those who stayed in.”

  “Why would he do that?” I ask.

  “Because he’s an asshole,” Lana snaps.

  “Yes, but it’s food that’s the problem,” Rosalind says. “They’ve been on short rations for a month, and even that’s not enough cuts. They’ve lost several of those who could hunt, and now the people inside are starving. She says a lot of them aren’t showing up for work, as of her last report. They’re too weak to get out of bed.”

  “That should make it easy to take the City back,” I observe.

  “Maybe,” Rosalind says, pursing her lips. “They still have the guns, and I’m betting that the ones who have them are better-fed than the rest.”

  “And the dome,” Lana says.

  “And that,” Rosalind agrees.

  “Thank you, Lana, I appreciate your going out of your way to get this,” Rosalind says, motioning at the papers.

  “No problem. I can’t believe you had a message system worked out ahead of time. Is there anything you’re not prepared for?” Lana asks.

  Rosalind smiles and says nothing. Lana shakes her head and leaves us alone.

  “How is Sarah getting out of the City to the drop?” I ask.

  “I’m not sure. She’s resourceful,” Rosalind answers.

  “We need to get them to come out of the dome,” I say.

  Rosalind nods, rubbing her temples. Suddenly she stops, looks at me and a smile spreads across her face.

  “Food!” she exclaims.

  “What of it?” I ask.

  “They’re starving. We bring them food,” she says.

  “How would it help us to feed them?” I ask.

  “Because he has to come out to get it,” she grins.

  Understanding dawns, and a smile spreads over my face too. “Of course!” I say, jumping up and running outside.

  Looking down from the ramp at the Tribe working, I scan them looking for Ragnar. There, he’s instructing some humans on how to butcher.

  “Ragnar!” I yell.

  When he turns to look, I motion for him to come to my quarters. Once he joins us, I lay out our plan. As it becomes clear to him, his grin is ear-to-ear and he nods enthusiastically.

  “I’ll get Ladon and the others to help,” he says.

  “How long do you need?” I ask.

  “Two days, maybe three,” he answers.

  “Good,” I say. “Get to it.”

  Ragnar rushes out to gather the others, leaving us alone. Rosalind’s smile fades, turning serious again.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Push is coming to shove,” she says. “I’ll have to deal with Gershom, somehow.”

  Rather than speaking, I nod. This is her decision, and anything I say will come across wrong. If she had done this when I pushed her to, back when the Tribe arrived at the City, we wouldn’t be here now. There is no changing the past. Even if I could, would she be mine now? Besides, I understand her even if I don�
��t agree with it.

  She paces the small space of my quarters. I don’t know how long she paces back and forth, lost in her thoughts, but eventually it’s clear she’s not getting anywhere. I step into her path and she bumps into my chest, unaware I was there until then. She looks up, anger flashing in her eyes, but I grab her by her hips, lifting her off her feet to my lips. Taking a kiss whether she wants it or not. She stiffens, pulls back, and I let her. She stares into my eyes, the fire raging in them, then she smashes against me with bruising force.

  Her legs wrap around my waist, and before I can move, she’s grinding herself against my stiff dick. Her arms are squeezing my neck tight, so that it’s hard to breathe, but air doesn’t matter. I’m devouring her lips, needing more—I can’t get enough of her. Clothes fly off, barely breaking our kiss as we undress. She unhooks her legs from around me to let her pants slide off.

  In my arms, she wriggles out of the last of her clothes. Free at last, her legs encircle me. I lift her up, she shifts her hips, and I lower her onto my waiting cock.

  “Mmm,” she moans as it slides into her wetness.

  She takes my full, hard cock, in a single downward motion, not even pausing for the ridges. I’m deep insider her, hitting the bottom. She moves her hips in a small, tight circle, groaning as she does. The hard tips of her breasts move against the scales of my chest, leaving burning trails across me. She’s so hot inside, taking me, she’s claiming me as hers. I give myself fully to her. She is my treasure.

  Moving my hands to her sweet ass, I lift her up, pulling out until the head of my cock is all that’s left inside her warmth. She bites her lower lip, eyes half-lidded, anticipating what’s to come.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she pants.

  When I let go, she slams down my shaft until once more my cock finds bottom. She cries out her pleasure as each ridge of my dick passes into her, expanding her soft walls, filling her completely. Her nails dig into my shoulders, she cries out, throws her head back, and moans.

  Wrapping one hand in her hair, I lift her with my free hand on her ass, repeating the motion. She gasps loudly. It feels so good, the way her pussy clamps my cock, spasming on it. Her sweet, hot, wet pussy milks my cock, squeezing me, demanding my seed.