“Odd tastes on the air,” Sekk’thi whispered. “Alien tastes.”
“Foltham has all manner of creatures down here,” Drakkal said, moving with his auto-blaster raised and ready. He smelled all of it, and those clashing scents almost overpowered the only fragrances that mattered to him, the two scents that were so similar and yet so unique—Shay’s and Leah’s.
Fury roiled in his gut. The scents of his mate and cub didn’tbelong in this place—never had and never would. But thanks to Murgen and Vanya, here they were.
“Turn right where the corridor splits in two. There’ll be two doors on the left”—the projected map zoomed out as Arcanthus spoke to display what he was talking about— “that lead into a damned barracks, Drak.”
Drakkal clenched his jaw and asked through his teeth, “How many?”
“Ten,” Arcanthus replied.
“Twelve,” Samantha corrected, her voice soft over the commlinks. “There’s two back there, Arc.”
Drakkal could almost imagine Sam leaning over Arc’s shoulder to point at the screen they were looking at. It only made him long even more to have his Shay back. His heart ached for those simple, peaceful moments, for those tastes of a life like he might not have deserved but would damned well reclaim. He’d never believed he could love anyone as wholly and fiercely as he loved Shay and Leah.
He stuck to the corner when he reached the end of the corridor, peering cautiously into the perpendicular hallway. The doors Arcanthus had indicated were visible on the left, both closed.
“They’re suiting up now,” Arc said. “Probably mobilizing to help fight the cren upstairs.”
“Going to be a nasty fight,” Urgand said, “but we can’t just leave them at our backs.”
“At least they’re vulnerable now,” Drakkal growled. “Urgand, Sekk’thi, take the first door. Thargen, on me.”
Drakkal rounded the corner and resumed his advance, splitting his attention between the closed doors and the far end of the corridor. The map updated, displaying twelve red dots in the large room to the left. Drakkal flattened himself against the wall beside the far door and glanced back to see Urgand andSekk’thi already in position. He nodded to them, briefly met Thargen’s wild gaze, and slapped the door control button. The door hissed open, sliding aside into the wall. Drakkal charged through the opening with Thargen immediately behind him.
Startled shouts filled the air as several guards—some of whom were only partially dressed—snapped their gazes toward the intruders. Shay and Leah’s faces flitted through Drakkal’s mind’s eye, followed by the faces of some of the other beings he’d seen imprisoned down here during thetourFoltham had given him. All enslaved, all having been robbed of their freedom, just like Drakkal and Arcanthus long ago. Just like countless people throughout the entirety of time and space.
And all these guards were complicit in that by working here, by working for Murgen Foltham.
Drakkal opened fire. Thargen’s auto-blaster joined in, adding its own thumping whines to the cacophony as it filled the air with sizzling blue-white plasma bolts.
Chaos ensued, exasperated by the crimson haze that had settled over Drakkal’s vision. Several of the sturdy beds lining the walls were toppled over to provide the guards makeshift cover, and plasma bolts—return fire from their foes—darted back toward Drakkal and Thargen.
“Check your fire,” Urgand called through the commlink. “Nasty crossfire in here.”
A plasma bolt struck Drakkal’s combat armor and dissipated, producing a faint burst of warmth that was nothing compared to the fires blazing inside him. He released the trigger of his auto-blaster—acknowledging somewhere in the back of his mind the danger it posed to his companions—and charged forward. He didn’t know how many of his enemies were dead or wounded, nor did he care. He’d fight so long as there were foes still moving.
Drakkal slammed the stock of his auto-blaster into a guard’sface and turned toward the next enemy before the first had fallen. Two more blaster shots struck him, one on his breastplate and the other on the armor plating extending from the top of his prosthesis. He let his auto-blaster drop to hang over his shoulder by the strap and tackled the shooter. The struggle was brief, fierce, and bloody, ending when Drakkal rose on his knees and slashed his hardlight claws through the guard’s face and throat.
He looked up to see three more guards in front of him, two of them holding smoking blasters; they were facing Drakkal with their backs pressed against an overturned bed. Drakkal snarled, baring his fangs, and tensed to launch himself toward them.
A big, heavy foot came down on Drakkal’s back and pushed him forward as the weight bearing down upon it increased. Thargen leapt over Drakkal, wielding a tristeel knife in each hand, and loosed a guttural roar just before he crashed bodily into the trio of guards. His blades flashed and darted in the tangle of limbs, and blood splattered the floor and nearby bedding.
Drakkal rushed into the fray as the guards grabbed, clawed, and kicked the wild vorgal in their midst. He landed on the heap of thrashing bodies and set his claws and teeth to work. Blood soaked patches of his fur and ran sticky over his hands. Blaster shots sounded from nearby, providing a beat for the melody of grunts, growls, shouts, and wet, crunching sounds. When a strong arm looped around his neck from behind and dragged him backward, he hurriedly planted his feet—one firmly on the floor and the other on meaty, unresponsive flesh—and kicked off, forcing himself back hard.
The increased momentum knocked his assailant down, and Drakkal landed atop him heavily. The hold around his neck loosened. He angled his chin down, sank his teeth into hisopponent’s forearm, and brought up his left hand. A slash of his hardlight claws nearly severed the guard’s arm at the elbow; a hard jerk of Drakkal’s head to the side finished the job, tearing apart the remaining tissue.
The guard screamed and thrashed. Drakkal rolled aside, landed on his knees, and lifted his left arm high over his head. He swung it down like a hammer. His metal fist struck the guard’s face, which crumpled like it was made of cloth. The screams ended with a choked gurgle.
“All clear,” Urgand declared from nearby.
“They are dead,” said Sekk’thi. “May they meet their ancestors in shame.”
Growling, Drakkal tugged his hand away from the guard’s caved-in face and shoved himself onto his feet. He shook his hands, flicking off excess droplets of blood, and surveyed the room.
The guards’ bodies were strewn across the floor and over the beds, with blood and scorch marks everywhere. Taking in the carnage, Drakkal felt…little different than before. His bloodlust wasn’t sated, his rage hadn’t diminished, and his worry for Shay and Leah had only intensified. He ran his gaze over his companions. Urgand and Sekk’thi sported a few new blaster burns on their armor, but seemed otherwise untouched. And Thargen…
Thargen was covered in blood of at least two different colors, so much of it that Drakkal couldn’t tell whether any of it belonged to the vorgal. His lips were stretched into a wide grin that fully displayed his short, pointed tusks, and his eyes still gleamed with that wild light.