The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3) Page 4

  “Rutherford!” His name slipped through her trembling lips. River’s left hand absently went to the slave collar at her throat. A thousand haunting images flooded her mind. She closed her eyes and winced at the memories; the sound of her own bones breaking, the slow agony, the humiliating wait as Tal’mar servants healed her body just so it could be broken again. Grueling punishment. Unbearable pain. Long nights in Rutherford’s bedroom, the haze of drugs and mindless suffering, of endless hours of torture…

  River squeezed the trigger, firing off a round that hit the stone wall behind him and then whizzed harmlessly into the beams on the ceiling. Slivers of wood rained down on her head. Rutherford laughed, a mechanical grinding sound that was as much machine as human.

  “You do remember me,” he said, stepping around the crates, closing the gap between them. “Hello, slave.”

  Red light shone in his mechanical eye, and Rutherford raised a robotically enhanced fist. River took an involuntary step back. She fired again, and the bullet shot right through him. It shattered a stone in the wall. Rutherford reached out, closing his grip around her throat. The slave collar tightened, the metal ring pinching her skin as her throat constricted.

  “You’re dead!” River rasped, her voice catching in her throat. “I killed you…”

  A sneer curled up the corners of his mouth. River swung at him, striking Rutherford’s metal-plated skull with the butt of her pistol. The grip reverberated in her hand, and Rutherford’s skull made a resonating klang! He responded with a wicked, steel-toothed grin. A desperate grunt escaped her lips as River kicked at him, driving her boot into the soft flesh of his groin. To her surprise, she struck metal. Her ankle twisted painfully, and his grip tightened on her throat.

  Spots swam through her vision as River fought to free herself. Her arms and legs flailed wildly, the revolver firing several shots as she struck at him. Rutherford threw his head back and howled with laughter. He tossed her across the room like a plaything. River landed heavily, the crushing force of the impact driving the breath from her lungs. Her limp body rolled across the crates and barrels, and she landed with a heavy thud on the cold stone floor. Darkness closed in at the edges of her vision.

  The room spun around her, darkness and light dancing through her vision in kaleidoscopic flickering patterns. River rolled to the side, panting, clutching at the burning sensation in her throat. She heard her revolver clattering across the floor, but it didn’t register. Her head swam as she fought for consciousness. She heard a noise and raised her head to see a blinding light flash in her eyes…

  Chapter 5

  “Alone again,” Shayla said, glancing around at the other empty tables on the depot platform. She turned her gaze on Thane as he settled down on the bench across from her. “Do you think they’ll ever forgive us?”

  Thane gave Shayla a half-hearted smile as he placed his dinner plate and tankard of ale on the table. He leaned forward, propping his elbows up on the tabletop, gazing into her eyes.

  Thane was one of the most beautiful men Shayla had ever met, if such a word could truly apply to any man. The bard’s eyes were deep green, like emeralds glittering under a pool of crystal clear water. His skin was fair, his features fine, perhaps even feminine, but noble. She saw the faintest trace of dirty blond whisker stubble protruding from his jaw line, and she wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel the stubble biting into her fingers.

  “Give them time,” Thane said. “They view what we did -the secrets we kept from them- as a betrayal.”

  “They’re right,” she said, staring at the food on her plate, absent-mindedly fanning herself. It was a cool evening, but under the layers of petticoats, skirts, and her lavender velvet coat, it took all of Shayla’s willpower not to break a sweat. This, of course, was a small price to pay for perfection.

  “I don’t feel well,” she said, pushing her plate away. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Thane said, rising to his feet.

  “No, stay and finish your dinner. It’s very gallant of you, but I think I will enjoy the quiet.”

  “Don’t wander far from the train,” he said. “Remember what Socrates said.”

  Shayla gave him a weak smile as she rose from the bench and walked away, still fanning herself. She hurried down the ramp and turned south, heading deeper into the city.

  She could feel the eyes watching her; the rest of the crew staring at her from the safety of the train. So many of them considered her a traitor. Some seemed to have forgiven her -Socrates, the Tal’mar warrior named Loren, even Vann - but she knew they still couldn’t trust her. They were right. She felt the weight of her betrayal like a millstone around her neck.

  The sun had set, and the gas lamps flickered along the darkened streets. Shayla heard her heels against the pavestones echoing back at her, and the smell of her perfume mingled in her nostrils with the pungent scent of sulfur. Swirling waves and eddies of fog drifted around her. Up ahead, the mountain and that great stone wall were shadows obscured behind a veil of mist.

  Most women would have been afraid to walk alone on such a night, especially in a foreign city, but Shayla had little fear in that regard. She had been trained to protect herself. Not in the way that River did, of course. Not with a gun or a sword, but with other, perhaps even greater weapons. Shayla had her wiles: her alluring beauty, her feminine charm, her seductive powers that no man -and few women- could resist. Self-defense need not always be a matter of violence and rage, especially when there were so many other ways. Quieter, easier ways…

  Shayla heard a noise overhead and glanced up to see a dark shape vanishing into the mist. She frowned. She couldn’t be sure, but the image captured in her mind’s eye was that of a long tail. The image didn’t make any sense, but it was so clearly defined that she may as well have been staring at a painting. It was real. She knew she had seen it .

  “You’re alone!” a voice hissed behind her.

  Shayla spun around, fighting the urge to reach for one of the deadly poison-tipped needles in her hair. Instead, she calmly reached up and adjusted her top hat.

  “Who are you?” she said into the darkness. “Who’s there?”

  Low, wicked-sounding laughter echoed through the fog around her. She saw a shadow moving in of the corner of her eye, and she spun around to find nothing there. The mist moved around her like ocean currents, churning, colliding, a cacophony of eerie silence that made her skin crawl. Shayla opened her fan and waved it in front of her face.

  “You sound big,” she said in a seductive voice. “You must be very strong…”

  She turned, eyes scanning the shadows between buildings, the swirling haze... “Won’t you come out?” she teased. “I want to see you. I want to see how strong you are!”

  Something struck her from behind. A dark shadow flew overhead and Shayla went sprawling. She felt the cool, slick moisture of the cobblestones against her face and the palms of her hands. She realized she had dropped her fan, and she snatched it up.

  Shayla rolled over and pushed into a sitting position. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she threw an arm out, steadying herself. Her eyelids were heavy. She felt a numb warmth moving through her limbs. All around her, the fog churned and boiled. She saw no sign of her attacker.

  “Poison,” she said, reaching up to touch her tingling ruby-red lips with a gloved finger. “You’ve poisoned me!”

  She moved, turning awkwardly as she scrambled to her feet. It was with some difficulty that she finally managed to get her legs back underneath her. When she did, she straightened up and stood wavering unsteadily. She couldn’t understand what had happened to her. Someone had poisoned her. But who? Her hazy thoughts flashed to the crew of the Iron Horse.

  River! she thought. The warrior-woman had slipped some poison into her drink, or possibly even mixed it into her lip-paint.

  Laughter bubbled up from inside her. Shayla put a hand to her lips as she giggled. Ludicrous, she thought. River was not
the kind of woman to poison someone. Not when she could just as easily put a bullet in them, or beat them with her fists. That was River’s style. That was everyone’s style on the Iron Horse. Aside from Thane and Socrates, they were a bunch of unwashed barbarians. Shayla was the only person in the entire crew who took the time to bathe herself regularly, and to wash her clothes…

  Something caught her from behind, and Shayla felt herself lifted into the air. The dim light of the street lamps vanished below and the fog closed in like a blanket. Her head spun dizzily, as if the world were twisting around her. The numbness had spread to her entire body.

  She was dying, Shayla realized somewhere in the back of her mind, but she didn’t seem to care. Then the fog broke and the sky opened up. Stars glittered from horizon to horizon, and the cold wind rushed across her face. Shayla got the sense of something above her, something large, and she raised her gaze to see the massive black creature from which she hung suspended. It was too dark and too large to see clearly, but she perceived what seemed to be giant wings rising and falling on the wind, and a long tail stretching out behind her. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and Shayla lost consciousness.

  Shayla woke in darkness. The floor was damp and cold beneath her, but the air was strangely warm on her face. The numbness remained, if somewhat diminished, and she heard a strange buzzing noise that may have only been in her mind. Her limbs tingled with warmth. She licked her lips, blinked her eyes, and noticed a dim green phosphorescent light overhead.

  The crew’s misadventures in the Forgotten City came instantly to mind, and Shayla realized she was in some sort of a cavern. She took a breath, summoned her strength, and rose to a sitting position. She swayed, dizzy and confused, unable to focus her thoughts. Shayla reached out and found a smooth, damp, vertical surface. This, she thought, must have been the wall of the cavern. She pushed against it, steadying herself as she rose to her feet. Her hand rose, gliding along the stone until it reached a sharp edge. It felt like the biting corner of a rough tile, or perhaps a pavestone.

  Shayla tilted her head back, frowning. Perhaps the thing next to her was some sort of structure; a building or other manmade edifice. Perhaps she wasn’t in a cavern at all… Shayla heard a great sighing noise, and the wall expanded beneath her hand. She gasped, jerking away. She froze, her eyes wide with terror. Horrifying images flooded into her mind, images of the creature that had hauled her up into the air, carried her into the sky… But that had been a dream. It must have been a dream!

  After a long pause there came an exhalation, and she heard the slight rustling and clicking of the creature’s scales as its chest deflated. Craning her head back, she could barely see the vague outline of its shape. It was little more than a shadow against the dull light emanating from the moss on the ceiling of the cavern. This creature next to her, whatever it was, was massive.

  Shayla calmed herself. She tried to remain motionless, paying close attention to the movements of the creature, the sound of its breathing, the slow but steady rise and fall of its chest. It seemed unconcerned with her for the moment, perhaps even asleep, but she decided to wait a little to be sure.

  Seconds passed, dwindling into minutes. Gradually, her eyes grew accustomed to the dim green light. Her other senses came to life. She noticed the musty damp smell of the place and heard the steady drip of water, the sound of drops splashing into a larger pool somewhere in the distance. The drug, whatever it was, must have been wearing off.

  Shayla felt a weight against her throat and realized it was her hat. Somehow, the ribbon had come loose, leaving the hat hanging by her neck. She sorted it out, tucking the ribbon into a pocket as she placed the hat back on her head. She pulled out her fan and began fanning herself, not so much from the heat, but force of habit. The poisoned blades contained therein would probably not affect a creature so large, but somehow it calmed her, feeling the weapon in her hand.

  By this time, Shayla’s vision had adjusted to the dim light, and she was actually able to see the tail of the creature entwined about her, the great wing looming over her protectively. Very cautiously, she began working her way out of the dragon’s embrace. Shayla stepped over the tail and found herself at the dragon’s head. The eyes were closed, thankfully, but she couldn’t get over the massive size of the creature’s skull. Its forehead was easily three feet across, and the claws next to her were longer than Shayla’s arms. She took another cautious step, trying to extricate herself without waking the beast.

  Behind the dragon was an underground lake of some sort, and it was glowing with the same green light that filled the cavern. A forest of stalactites and stalagmites crowded in around the edge of the lake. Turning, Shayla noticed a tunnel behind her, leading upward. This, she realized, must have been the way out.

  Lifting her skirts, Shayla hurried in that direction. In her haste, she took one miscalculated step and tripped over a length of the dragon’s tail that hadn’t been visible in the darkness at her feet. The creature’s eyes opened: first the scaly green outer eyelids, and then the inner membranes that slid back to the sides. The long, elliptical pupils dilated, flicking back and forth as the creature came awake.

  Shayla pushed to her feet and ran for the tunnel. The dragon surged forward with more speed than should have been possible for a creature of that size. It blocked her path, baring yard-long fangs with a violent hiss. A low rumbling growl emanated from its chest, the sound so deep and powerful that it seemed to shake Shayla’s internal organs.

  She took a step back. The dragon watched her with an intense, intelligent stare. Sensing that the creature did not want to kill her yet, Shayla took another step. The beast continued watching, studying, calculating, but made no move to attack. It didn’t seem to care where she went, so long as she didn’t head for the exit. Summoning her courage, Shayla turned and ran in the other direction.

  The dragon watched curiously as Shayla flew along the edge of the lake and dove for the cover of the stalagmites. She clawed her way ever deeper into the smooth, damp formations, pulling herself in tight, crying out as the bizarre formations closed in on her, crushing her chest so that she could barely breathe.

  As the darkness closed in, the dragon settled back down on the cavern floor with its body blocking the exit, its head resting across one foreleg, both eyes fixed on its prey.

  Chapter 6

  Kale’s eyelids fluttered open and he stared up into a sky full of stars. The night air was cool and damp, heavy with the odor of saltwater and some other elusive scent he couldn’t quite place. He heard waves crashing in the distance. He pushed upright, grunting at a sharp pain in his side. His head swam with dizziness. His stomach lurched. He reached for the pain, pulling back the fabric of his tunic to reveal a deep gouge that ran across the front of his torso. It looked like the cut of a dull saber. As he moved, Kale felt the telltale sting of another similar wound across his back.

  Kale moaned. He felt like he’d spent a long night drinking and playing cards in the dining car, except that this was worse than any hangover he’d ever had. Much worse. He pressed his hands to his temples, closed his eyes, and rocked slightly from side to side. Kale searched his mind for a clue as to what might have happened. The last he could recall, he had been walking down the streets of Stormwatch in a dense fog. For some reason, Kale had the impression that he had been attacked by invisible creatures, like spirits or ghosts. That was nonsense, of course. Kale didn’t believe in supernatural silliness.

  He frowned, considering the vague memory of watching the sky shatter like broken glass. He shook his head and then moaned at the wave of pain that washed over him. Nothing he remembered made any sense. It was impossible.

  After the nausea had subsided a bit, the warrior rose to his feet and turned in a slow circle. The black ocean churned up in front him, scattering bits of driftwood and foam along the beach. Behind him rose a wall of cliffs at least one hundred feet high. Nearby, he recognized the black gaping maw of a cave. A narrow stream wound down from th
e mouth of the cave and across the sand, toward the waves.

  Kale lurched over to the stream. He bent down and took a long drink. As the cold water splashed down his throat, a cooling sensation spread throughout his limbs. The pulsating pain behind his eyes subsided a bit, and he turned his head, taking stock of the situation.

  Kale noticed that the area immediately in front of the cave was littered with thousands of sun-bleached sticks. He took a few steps in that direction and nearly tripped over a smooth, round stone thrusting out of the sand. Kale picked it up and the hairs rose on the back of his neck. It was not a stone, but a human skull. Not far off, he saw another.

  Kale lowered himself to a crouch, scanning the area. The sticks, he now realized, weren’t sticks at all. They were bones… thousands of human bones. He searched his memory, trying to identify what sort of creature he might be facing. In the past, Kale had observed bears and mountain lions that made dens out of caves. Wolves had been known to do so as well. Only rarely did they prey on humans, however. It was unimaginable that any animal or pack of animals could devour so many men without consequence.

  He moved closer, crouching low, scanning the sand for the beast’s prints. Kale heard a snorting sound similar to that of a horse echoing out of the darkness of the cave. He pressed himself down flat against the sand. He reached for a weapon, and his hand closed a length of bone lying nearby. He grimaced as he recognized the shape of a human femur. His first instinct was to cast it aside, but then he heard a rustle of movement near the cave entrance, the click of nails against stone accompanied by a strange rattling sound. He decided that even a human femur was better than no weapon at all.

  “The beast watches you,” said a man’s voice behind him.