Page 31

The lock clicks, loud in the silence. My heart is hammering in anticipation. Is this it? Will the Zmaj act? My muscles spasm, and I drop hard onto my feet, pressing my hands to the cold door, trying to envision what’s happening based on sounds alone.

The doors of the prison are surprisingly quiet in stark contrast to how I expected them to be. Too many old Earth vids I guess, but though they’re quiet, they are not silent. A soft creak, a whisper as it moves air. I hold my breath, straining to hear exactly what is happening.

The stamp of boots on stone thunders in my ears. I close my eyes, letting imagination create images in my head of what’s happening. The guard entering the cell. The Zmaj, injured, but stronger than he’s letting on, waiting. Predatory. Judging his moment.

The guard growls something, I can’t hear what. Probably a curse. The tray clatters as he drops it to the ground. Silence, broken by the step of his boots. Did he turn his back? If so, it’s a mistake. A big one.

I grab the bars and pull up. Muscles protesting, but I need to see. I can’t leave this to imagination and hope. I need to know. Is this the moment? That need overrides the exhaustion in my muscles. I can’t miss this.

The Zmaj warrior moves fast, faster than he should be able to wounded as he is. With a guttural snarl, he surges forward, swiping the guard’s legs out from under him with his tail. The Urr’ki crashes to the ground. His head strikes the tray and it clatters across the floor.

The Zmaj pins the guard, his claws pressing against the warrior’s throat. The Urr’ki struggles, but his face contorts with something like shock, disbelief that he’s been bested.

The guard bares his teeth and growls, struggling to break free but the Zmaj presses his claws down, drawing the first blood.

“You’ll never make it out.”

“Keys,” the Zmaj growls low in his throat.

The Urr’ki gasps, his hand twitching toward his belt. My mouth is dry.

Kill him. We can’t leave him behind.

No. I can’t believe I thought that, but I did. How much has this place taken from me? What is wrong with me? I drop down, not wanting to see what happens next. I know the Zmaj will probably think nothing of taking an Urr’ki life, but what if it was Z’leni? He’s been kind to me and… and what?

The door across the way slams. I don’t hear a scream or anything else. Did he kill the Urr’ki? A moment later keys rattle then I hear different ones being tried until the lock on my door clicks at last and it swings open. The Zmaj is there, filling the door, backlit, he’s nothing but a looming shadow.

“Let’s go,” he says, stepping back and aside.

Trembling, I walk forward. A shiver races across my back. The door across the hall seems darker than it should. A sense of foreboding emanates from it and I don’t want to look. I can’t, knowing that on the other side of it lies the body of that guard. Does it matter that the guard would have killed either one of us without a second thought?

No. Not really. How am I any better than them if I become like them?

He takes my hand, gripping it tight as we slip out of the cell. The corridor looms before us, stretching into darkness. Our eyes lock and it feels as if his gaze sears into my heart and soul. As if he sees me in ways that no one ever has before. My mouth is dry as I convulsively tighten my grip on him.

“We must move,” he says, softly. “Quickly.”

“Yeah, do you?—”

Someone slams into the door of his cell. The Urr’ki guard appears in the barred window. Relief and fear mix inside me. The Zmaj’s head jerks to the sound and he growls then we run.

The air is thick, damp, the scent of stone and rust filling my lungs. The Zmaj stays close, his breathing ragged but determined. We twist through the tunnels, each turn a gamble, each step laced with the risk of discovery.

Then, a shadow moves ahead. I skid to a stop, heart slamming against my ribs. A figure steps forward, blocking our path.

Z’leni.

His dark eyes flick between me and the Zmaj, expression unreadable. But something is different this time. His stance is tense, his hands clenched at his sides as if he’s fighting something within himself.

“Z’leni—” I whisper, my pulse pounding.

He doesn’t move or draw his weapon. He looks from the Zmaj to me then back again. The pressure mounts in my head.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, breaking the silence at last.

Something in his voice sends a chill through me. The Zmaj tenses beside me, a low growl reverberating from his chest. I swallow hard.

“We’re leaving.”