Page 24 of Orc’s Redemption (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss #35)

24

ELARA

I want them both close. Closer than breath. Closer than fear.

The thought echoes louder inside my head. Louder than the crumbling stone. Louder than the low, hungry hum seeping through the walls. Louder even than my own better judgment.

Z’leni’s eyes don’t leave mine. He doesn’t look away, smirk, or deflect with a cutting remark like I expect. He just stares. Quiet. Unflinching. Like he’s trying to see something buried deep beneath my skin. Maybe he is.

“I should fear you,” I whisper.

The words surprise me even as they leave my mouth, but they’re true. Z’leni tilts his head slightly.

“Yes,” he murmurs, the word sinking into my skin like a brand.

“I don’t.”

There’s a moment of stillness. A moment where everything narrows to just the three of us in this tight, broken space. Torchlight flickers, catching the rough edges of ancient stone, painting the chamber in restless gold. Ryatuv holds my wrist. Z’leni is close enough I feel the heat of his body, even though we’re not touching.

It should be claustrophobic. It’s anything but.

“You’ve seen what they are,” Ryatuv says, looking at Z’leni then back at me, like I’m the strange one now. Like I’m the anomaly in all of this. “You saw what his people have done. How they are. What they did to you. You should fear them. All of them, including him.”

Z’leni doesn’t say anything, but his eyes bore into mine, ready to accept whatever I say next. His lips are a tight line. I want to kiss the pending frown away.

“No,” I say immediately. “I shouldn’t and I don’t. He’s not like them.”

Z’leni’s laugh is short. Bitter. “You don’t know that.”

“You’re not,” I say again, firmer now. “You bleed. You fight. You protect. Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not kindly, but you’re still trying. That’s what matters.”

I don’t realize I’m trembling until Ryatuv shifts closer and wraps his other arm around me. Just like that. No hesitation. His body curves around mine like a shield, all cool and hard muscle and wings that shift slightly to block the cold. It’s so sudden, so comforting, that I don’t fight it in the slightest. Instead. I lean into him.

His breath brushes the side of my neck, warm and steady. Z’leni doesn’t move, but something shifts behind his eyes.

“He’s not the only one who’d die to keep you breathing,” Ryatuv says, quietly.

I glance at him. His expression is unreadable. His jaw is tight and his hands twitch, curling like he’s holding something back.

“I don’t want you to die,” I say.

“Not yet?” he asks, lips curving in that familiar, sardonic way.

“Not ever,” I say, shaking my head.

That lands heavier than I expect. For a heartbeat, the tension rises between us. Sharp and full of unspoken things. Ryatuv’s thumb is still brushing the inside of my wrist. Z’leni’s watching both of us now, gaze flickering between the places we touch.

His shoulders are tense. His eyes dark.

The silence stretches. Until I can’t take it any longer so I break it.

“Tell me something real,” I say, my voice low and shaking. “Something you wouldn’t tell anyone else.”

Z’leni arches a brow. Ryatuv hisses softly.

His tail brushes the side of my leg, deliberately and slow. A shiver races up my spine, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or something far more intimate.

“That’s a dangerous request down here,” Z’leni says at last.

“I don’t care.”

Z’leni considers, then moves closer to my opposite side. He puts his back to the wall and slides down, stretching his long legs in front of him. His voice, when he speaks, is low and rough.

“I was thirteen when I saw what the Zmaj do to my kind for the first time,” he says. “I was on patrol. We came across a group of Zmaj. The others were all older than me. Trained. Armed. But they didn’t last.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “I couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. I hid behind one of the fallen, the stench of blood clogging my throat. I stayed there, frozen and silent, until I was sure that the Zmaj had left. I swore I’d never be that helpless again.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I ask, swallowing hard. “Is that why you were kind to me? Why you saved me?”

Z’leni half-nods, half shrugs.

“My people, the Urr’ki, have lost hope. Despair is so pervasive that it’s become normal. Some few of us cling to what we once were. Before the Zmaj. Most definitely before the Shaman, but not many. I can’t trust anyone else to do what needs doing. Not even my own people.”

There’s pain in his voice. Not bitterness. Not rage. Just a quiet, empty sort of grief that I wasn’t expecting. It makes something twist in my chest. I turn to Ryatuv. He hasn’t spoken. But his grip has tightened ever so slightly. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks.

“I was born underground. I’ve never seen Tajss’ real sky.”

My heart sinks, leaving an empty ache in my chest. “Never?”

He shakes his head slowly.

“I’ve dreamed it. Heard stories, but dreams are pale things. They don’t warm your scales.” He glances at me now. “I want to see it. I want to feel sunlight, real sunlight, before I die.”

It’s the first time I hear this from him. Vulnerability. Hope. It shatters something in me.

“You’re going to,” I say fiercely. “You are both going to. We’re getting out of here.”

Neither argues. The silence that follows is warmer. Still heavy, still full of unspoken emotion but softer. And when Ryatuv tucks me tighter into his side, I let him. When Z’leni finally shifts and leans into me, resting his arm on his raised knee, I let that happen too.

It feels… safe.

Gods help me, I feel safe here. Between them. In this forgotten ruin, chased by horrors, half-buried in the bones of a dead city this is where I feel safest.

It’s not rational, but it’s real. We sit in silence that, if not comfortable, is at least something close to it.

I must drift. Just for a moment.

I blink and the light has dimmed further and the air has grown colder. Z’leni paces silently near the far wall. Ryatuv’s warmth surrounds me, but he’s tense.

“Something’s changed,” he murmurs.

I sit up straighter. “What?”

Z’leni gestures toward the sealed opening above. “The hum is gone.”

He’s right.

The vibration, the steady pulse of whatever it was that flows through these tunnels has stopped. It’s too quiet.

“Do you hear that?” Ryatuv asks.

I hold my breath. Then I do. Scraping. Not the loud, sharp kind from earlier. This is softer. Steady.

Purposeful.

It’s coming from beneath us. Z’leni curses and reaches for his weapon.

“They’re digging,” Z’leni says and panic floods my chest.

“We’re not alone down here,” I say.

“No,” Ryatuv says grimly. “We never were.”

Z’leni crosses the chamber in two strides, dropping to one knee near a crack in the floor. He presses his ear against the stone.

“There’s more than one. They’re below us. And close,” he says.

“What do we do?” I ask, voice shaking.

“We fight if we have to,” Ryatuv says. “But if we can run?—”

“There,” Z’leni interrupts. He stands and points to the wall behind me. “That stone’s weaker. Cracked from the collapse.”

I twist to look. A jagged seam runs along the edge of the chamber, partly hidden by shadows.

“It’s not a tunnel,” I say.

“Not yet,” Z’leni replies, “but it could be.”

Ryatuv pulls away from me and moves to inspect it. He presses his claws to the seam, then glances back.

“It’ll be loud,” he warns.

“I don’t care,” I say, already on my feet. “Do it.”

Z’leni hands me his torch and a knife.

“Hold the light. And if anything comes through that floor—” he trails off.

“I’ll make it bleed,” I promise.

“Good girl,” he says in a low rumble that makes my knees weak.

Ryatuv slams his shoulder into the wall. Once. Twice. The stone groans. Behind us, the floor splits with a crack. We don’t have much time.

Ryatuv slams his shoulder into the wall again, harder this time. The crack widens. Dust rains down, stinging my eyes and catching in my throat. The floor behind us shudders.

Not stone. Not structure. This is a different kind of sound. Flesh on rock. Scraping. Clawing. Coming up.

Z’leni pulls me toward the wall, his hand curling tight around my uninjured wrist. Ryatuv braces himself, wings spread wide for balance, then launches forward with a bellow that echoes through the chamber.

The stone gives.

It explodes in a burst of fractured rock and stale air, revealing a narrow chute on the other side. More of a crevice than a passage, barely wide enough for a single body at a time. Cold, damp air rushes out. It smells wrong. Like metal and old death, but we don’t hesitate.

Ryatuv grabs the torch from my hand and thrusts it into the gap. Shadows leap across slick, ribbed walls that plunge at a steep angle.

It isn’t a tunnel. It’s probably some kind of drainage shaft. Or an old collapse route going down.

“We’re going in there?” I ask.

“We’re going anywhere but here,” Z’leni growls.

Something thuds behind us. The sound of a body hitting the floor. Then the skitter of claws.

“Go!” Ryatuv bellows.

Z’leni pushes me toward the opening. I scramble forward, heart in my throat, twisting my body sideways to wedge into the shaft. It’s so tight my shoulders scrape the walls. My feet slip against the slick stone.

And then gravity grabs me and I’m sliding.

I scream as I fall, the shaft angling sharply. My limbs slam against the walls, the torchlight bobbing wildly as I slip, twist, and turn through wet darkness, barely able to breathe, until the chute levels out and spits me into a small stone chamber.

I land hard and fresh pain explodes through my hip and already damaged ribs. I scramble upright, sucking in sharp, shallow breaths.

Z’leni lands next, expertly rolling and stopping in a ready crouch. Ryatuv crashes in after him, far less gracefully, wings flaring wide as he slams to a halt beside me. A beat later, the wall behind us collapses. The shaft seals itself with a grinding shudder of ancient stone. We’re sealed in. Enclosed. Trapped. Again.

“Damn it,” I curse. “Can we stop going from one trap to the next?”

The torch flickers. The flame dances weakly, casting dim gold light across the small chamber. I pace the small space but there are no exits. Just rough stone walls, jagged and close. I can reach out and touch either side without stretching.

My heart pounds. Claustrophobia claws at the edges of my mind.

This isn’t a tunnel. It’s a tomb.

Stone presses in.

My breath scrapes my throat.

“We can’t stay here,” I gasp, struggling to not give into this overwhelming sense that we’re trapped and the walls are closing in.

Ryatuv scans the chamber, his chest heaving, his tail lashing.

“There has to be another way,” Ryatuv says.

“There isn’t,” Z’leni mutters. He’s slowly circling, dragging one hand along the wall and searching for seams. “This wasn’t built as part of the undercity. It’s older. Maybe natural.”

“You brought us into a dead end,” Ryatuv snarls.

“I saved her life,” Z’leni snaps, whirling on him. “And yours, lizard. You think she’d have made it past that floor collapse without me?”

“You don’t know what would’ve happened?—”

“I know you’re too proud to admit when someone else is right?—”

“Stop,” I snap. They both freeze. I’m shaking, barely upright, adrenaline crashing hard. I press my back against the cold wall and slide down, hugging my knees to my chest. “Just stop,” I whisper. “Please.”

Thankfully, they listen. Z’leni exhales, slow and long, then sits cross-legged across from me. Ryatuv stays standing, pacing like a caged predator. The walls press closer with every breath. The air is heavy. Wet. Dripping water echoes somewhere behind the stone. Or… is that water?

“Do you hear that?” I whisper.

They both still and we all hear it. Dripping, yes. But beneath that… breathing . Low. Raspy. Inside the walls.

“No,” Z’leni murmurs. “No, that’s not possible.” He rises fast, starts circling the chamber again. “This isn’t a room. It’s a nest.”

My blood runs cold. Ryatuv’s claws extend.

“We’re not alone,” I say, barely breathing.

“No,” Z’leni agrees. “We’re not.”

The three of us look at each other and I see the same horror dawning on their faces that I feel in my chest. Desperate, they both go to work on the walls. Looking for what I’m not sure. A weak spot, a hidden door, all I know is I don’t care what, I just need something. Anything that gets me out of this room.

“Smaller and smaller. What’s next?” Z’leni mutters.

Ryatuv finds the opening almost by accident. A section of the far wall shifts when he leans against it. Not a door. Not even a seam. Just a weak patch of stone that partially gives under the pressure. He punches it and a section crumbles revealing a crevice.

He steps back and uses his tail. The powerful limb slams, loudly smacking over and over. More and more of the wall crumbles with every strike until there is an opening just wide enough for us to pass through single-file. It’s dark. Cramped. But we don’t wait.

This time, Z’leni goes first and I follow while Ryatuv guards the rear.

The walls press in. My shoulders scrape raw. My legs cramp from crouching so low. There’s no room to turn. No room to breathe. Just crawling through black stone and praying the next breath won’t be your last.

“Don’t stop,” Z’leni calls softly.

“Not planning to,” I rasp.

I don’t even realize I’m crying until a tear slides down my cheek and drops onto the stone below. It’s too much.

The pain in my wrist. The memory of that thing grabbing me. I regret ever agreeing to come on this stupid mission. The weight of everything we’ve seen. Everything I’ve lost. What they’ve lost too. The way Ryatuv’s voice shook when he spoke of never seeing the sky. The way Z’leni hides his grief behind a smirk. I can’t keep pretending.

“I’m scared,” I whisper. The words tremble out of me, raw and brittle.

“I know,” Z’leni says, his voice breaking something loose inside me.

“I don’t want to die down here,” I admit, almost choking on the admission.

“You won’t,” Ryatuv says behind me. No hesitation.

“How do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. But I feel his hand against my back. Large. Cool. Steady.

“I’ll carry you out if I have to,” he murmurs.

“And if I don’t let go?” I ask.

Silence. Then Z’leni, softer than I’ve ever heard him.

“Then we hold on. All three of us.”

The crawl continues. And for the first time in a long while, I believe we might actually survive this. Together.