Chapter 10
Avelunne had never been a gambler, but she was now.
Every step through the service corridor was a bet against the croupier.
Her fellow captives had tried to teach her stealth, the patient art of the hunter.
But she was a moonwing dragon, and her ancestors rarely met a risk they weren’t willing to take.
Smash-and-grab was their preferred method of acquisition, and right now, she felt that reckless heritage energizing her blood.
She was going after what had been stolen.
The solid floor was a relief after the yielding flesh of the main tunnels, but it brought its own horrors.
Here, the light was brighter, a sterile glare that illuminated every smear of gore and every streak of filth.
Sound echoed here, with nerve-wracking distant clanks, drips, and whistling winds from ceiling grates.
The stench was as she remembered. Cleaning the mess had been one of her jobs.
Judging by the state of things, no one had pushed a mop in the seven days she’d been gone.
A scraping sound from an intersecting passage sent her flattening into a recessed alcove.
A lab servant, one of the less monstrous but still dangerous made-to-order species, limped past, dragging one leg, its breath wheezy as it hauled a heavy crate.
Avelunne froze. Fearsome memories tried to rise, but she shoved them down, seizing her anger instead.
Ice Age shifter children were as rare as mercy from the death gods.
They should have been cherished, not used for gods-damned parts.
The servant turned a corner and vanished.
Avelunne slipped from the alcove, her bare feet silent on the grimy floor.
She didn’t let herself think about Tanner, hiding in the trash pit.
Worrying about him and the other rescuers was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
Right now, the children were the only thing that mattered.
The storeroom was just ahead, blessedly close to the trash portal she’d used.
She remembered discovering it years ago, a forgotten space in the higgledy-piggledy maze that was the central hub.
She’d used it more than once to hide when Tippizoars were on a rampage or hungry enough to eat servants.
After quick glances up and down the hall, she pressed her palm against the reader plate beside the door, praying the access protocols hadn’t been changed.
Three loud, electronic beeps echoed so loudly that they made her jump.
The door hissed sideways. She didn’t waste a second, slipping in through the opening and slapping the interior panel to slam it shut behind her. The small, dimly lit space smelled like a poorly kept barn.
Six naked gangly teenagers, with only height, gender, skin, and hair color to distinguish them, pressed into the far corner. For two heartbeats, they just stared in astonishment.
Then a dark-skinned girl subtly edged to the front. Her body was a roadmap of old scars and fresh bruises, but her eyes held no fear. Only a chilling, violent readiness in the tension of her adolescent body.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I was Shifter H-57523. Now I’m Avelunne. I’m here with a friend to get you out.” She kept her voice low and even as she could, fighting a rising anxiety. “What should I call you?”
Dirt and uglier substances stained the floor and walls.
The air, thick and sour, was dominated by the stench from a single, overflowing bucket in the corner that served as their toilet.
There were no beds, no blankets, just the cold, hard floor.
A fresh wave of rage burned away the edges of her fear.
How Tippizoars even knew to look for Ice Age shifters was a mystery, but finding them only to discard them in this squalor was unforgivable.
The dark-skinned girl remained silent, her jaw set, but the white-skinned boy behind her shifted his weight. “I’m Danya.” He gestured with a tilt of his head. “She’s Maysan.”
Maysan let out a low grunt, a clear warning to Danya, but her obsidian eyes never left Avelunne’s face.
Avelunne’s attention was caught by an ugly, puckered wound on the one thigh of each child. The skin around it was inflamed and weeping, like an infected spider bite. “Your legs are hurt. Can you run?”
“Yes,” Maysan replied, her chin jutting out in defiance.
“Most of us can.” The voice came from the tallest boy, his skin a warm brown. He stood with a quiet, solid strength. “I’m Javier. We’ll carry Sazanel if we have to.” He touched the shoulder of a near-emaciated girl with dark, curly hair who huddled beside him. “She freezes when she’s afraid.”
Avelunne’s gaze found the small girl’s eyes, which were wide with terror. She offered the only truth she had. “I do, too, sometimes.”
“Tippizoars injected us with this shit two days ago.” Danya pointed to his own leg. “The keepers think we’re stupid. They talk about us like we’re not here. We think a previous group of shifter kids died from it.”
“We have healers.” The assurance felt flimsy against the brutal reality of their situation. “But first we have to get out.”
“It’s feeding time,” said a boy with light brown skin and tightly coiled hair. “We thought you were the keepers.”
The timing was a disaster. There was no place to hide, no time to plan. The alarms from the portal breaches were probably screaming in the central hub already. “Then, best we leave.”
The children’s eyes swiveled to Maysan. The girl exchanged a look with Javier that was a whole conversation. Maysan hands made fists at her sides. “If we’re going to die anyway, let’s make it count.”
A pang of profound sadness shot through Avelunne, an ache for the childhoods that had been burned away to create these small, grim warriors. She ignored it. There would be time for grief later. Maybe. She opened the door and peered out. “This way. Make no sound and stay close.”
She led them at a fast walk that broke into a near run, their bare feet making slapping sounds on the gory floor.
Just before the turn that led to the trash portal, she spotted a secondary control panel set into the wall, its glyphs indicating environmental systems. A risky, dragon-inspired idea sparked.
She veered toward it, slamming her palm down on the largest, most ominous-looking rune.
A klaxon began to blare from deep within the hub, warning of a lethal containment breach. It might delay any pursuit.
They reached the hexagonal metal plate. “Where are we?” Maysan asked between ragged breaths.
“Trash disposal,” Avelunne pressed her palm to the reader.
“My friend is waiting.” The door hissed open, revealing the dimmer, stinking expanse of the dump.
She helped the children through the opening one by one, then climbed out herself, slapping the panel to seal the door behind them.
She spun around, her eyes scanning the scattered refuse, searching for a tall, steady silhouette.
The trash heap was silent and still. Of Tanner, there was no sign at all.
The surface of the fetid cesspool churned, and a dark shape rose from the muck like a vengeful swamp creature.
Tanner stood tall, his talwar gripped in one hand, the blade gleaming even in the gloom.
Thick, gray sludge coated his body for a split second before sliding off him into the pool, leaving his hair and skin unsullied.
Avelunne locked knees to keep them from shaking. She hadn’t realized how terrified she was of doing this alone until the moment she wasn’t anymore. She never would have dared this much without him. “That’s Tanner. My friend.”
Tanner gave the staring children a sharp nod, his gaze taking them in. “Follow me exactly and don’t stray from my footprints.” His tone was reassuringly firm. He gestured toward the chaotic piles of refuse. “I left a few surprises.”
“Clever.” Avelunne knew she wouldn’t have thought of it.
A brief smile touched his lips.
Avelunne turned to the huddle of nervous teenagers. “Who has the best hearing?”
Every finger pointed to Javier.
“Maysan, go up front with Tanner.” She beckoned to the tall, brown-skinned boy. “Javier, stay with me in the back. We’ll listen for trouble.”
Tanner gave her and the children another nod. “Let’s go.”
He took off, and the children followed his instructions.
Once they were in the corridor, they became a desperate, silent train running through the fleshy curves.
The floor squelched beneath their feet, shifting unpredictably, but the children adapted quickly.
Maysan matched Tanner’s long strides, her jaw set hard.
When the youngest, Sazanel, stumbled a second time over a larger lump, Danya scooped her into his arms and kept running, his breathing ragged but steady.
Javier dropped back a little to Avelunne’s side. “How long has it been for you?” He spoke between breaths.
It was the question every captive asked first in a new pen. In a prison where the walls ate everything and the sun never rose, subjective time was the only reality that mattered. It was the only way to measure their existence.
“Twelve years, one pen,” she said, trying to hear everything in spite of the pounding of her heart. “You?”
“Nine years. Three pens. I’ve been here the longest. Danya is the newest.” He glanced at her, then at his feet as he dodged a dark spot on the floor. “Are you a shifter, too?”
“Dragon,” she said. “Tanner is a thunderbird.”
Javier’s eyes widened, a flash of awe breaking through his stoicism, but before he could respond, a dull whump echoed from the direction of the trash portal. The floor quivered beneath them.
Javiar glanced over his shoulder. “I thought I heard an explosion.”
“Me, too.” She suspected one of Tanner’s surprises had been triggered. “Tanner! They’re coming!”
“Faster!” Tanner didn’t look back.
They sprinted now, lungs burning, the squishy floor sucking at their toes. They were close to the wide intersection that led to the prisoner pens. If they could just make the turn, they would be on the comparatively straight path to the exit. “It’s not long, now.”
Suddenly, high-pitched, rhythmic yipping and earsplitting screeching filled their world.
The children whimpered. Avelunne faltered, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest.
They rounded the final curve and skidded to a halt. The path was blocked.
A pack of necros, their hairless bodies twitching and teeth bared, crouched across the corridor. Behind them towered Tippizoars. The two-headed fugor’s carapace glowed with agitation, and both heads swiveled toward their entrance. They must have quick-ported in.
She had led them straight into a trap. It was her plan, her path, and now it was going to be her fault they all died.