“I’m so sorry for what has happened to you,” Yaltu whispered as tears formed in her eyes. “But now, you are free.” She paused for a moment. I thought the dragon must have been speaking to her privately. In response, she nodded and took a few steps away.
“Free,” the black dragons chanted. “Because of you, free.”
“Not if you stay here, you’re not,” I said. “Thank you for your help, but you better get out of here.”
“Luck, great one,” they said.
The dragons glanced at each other before peppering us with dust and gravel as they charged back over the walls and deeper into the city to wreak their own havoc on their torturers.
Yaltu stumbled, and I jumped to catch her in my arms. She stared up at me with half-closed eyes.
“We need to keep going,” I said. “Can you walk?”
She swallowed before getting on her feet. “Now that I am not using my pheromones, I will become stronger.” The color in her face returned, and she swallowed. “I can walk.”
“The city guard barracks are not far from here,” Beatrix said as she gestured for us to follow. “Come.”
We followed her through a number of small alleys while aliens stared down at us from the windowed buildings flanking. After a few right turns and a single left turn, we arrived outside a squat stone building constructed similarly to the arena.
I’d figured it would be, well, guarded, but we didn’t encounter any trouble outside the structure. The front double door was wooden with thick metal bands reinforcing it both vertically and horizontally.
The reinforcement didn’t help at all; I broke the locking pawl between the doors with a swift kick. The two vrak guards inside were frozen with surprise. I doubted they ever expected anyone to kick their front doors in. As they reached for their weapons, I also kicked their front teeth in.
The room was small, no more than a small foyer—a first-line of defense in case the barracks was ever attacked. But the defense of any building was only as effective as those who were defending it. The vrak weren’t big on discipline. Skrew was a testament to that.
The walls and floors were completely unadorned. There were no paintings, plaques, or anything else that might fall during a battle. At least that part had been done right. Every yard or so, a bluish-hued light about the size of my fist was mounted to the wall. Its piercing pinpoint of illumination reminded me of a welding arc. It was probably efficient, though. All militaries gave lip service to efficiency at the very least.
“Close the doors and bar them!” I ordered. I’d only broken the pawls on the door, so we’d still be able to prevent anything else from entering if we stacked enough stuff behind them.
Reaver rushed to the entrance and began stacking furniture in front to slow down anyone who might try to get in. I didn’t think we’d see anyone too soon because the barracks was completely quiet and devoid of any soldiers. I figured the two I’d just killed had drawn the short straws, and all the other guards were dealing with a little dragon problem. Still, there were probably stragglers around. The guards might not have been disciplined, but any punk with a gun and a lucky shot still spelled problem.
“Where are the vehicles?” I asked, quickly scanning the room. There were dozens of doors leading into more rooms.
“They come from underneath the streets,” Beatrix said quickly. “Then, they keep them underground. Everyone, look for the entrance.”
“Watch your sixes,” I said.
Skrew lifted all four of his arms. “Skrew only has four.”
I shook my head. “There may be more guards we haven’t seen yet.”
I held Ebon low and peeked through the doorway on the opposite side of me. I heard Reaver move in behind me and stack up like a typical room breach.
Across the hallway, inset in the wall, was another double-door.
This one was clearly marked “ARMORY.” I was surprised I could read the text, but then it seemed the Lakunae had not only gifted me with the ability to speak different alien languages, but also read them.
“Maybe there’s something in there a little less primitive than a sword or halberd,” I whispered to Reaver.
“I would kill for a rifle,” she muttered.
The hallway extended an equal distance in both directions. To my left, there were two doors along the same wall and one at the end. To my right, there were the same doors, but there was also an extra one on the opposite wall from me, not too far from the armory. Asymmetrical architecture usually hid something important. Though it appeared that most of the people on the planet were alien, I was certain we had enough in common that we both enjoyed symmetry.
I was almost certain the extra doorway would be my way underground.
But, first, we needed some firepower.
“Reaver,” I said. “Cover me.”
“Got it.”
I kicked the center of the double doors to the armory. Sparks cascaded off the steel as the flimsy locks disintegrated.
In the center of the stone-walled room was a stout wooden table. On top were a few close combat weapons, but scattered on the floor around the table—mostly against the back wall—were discarded pieces of junk that may at one time have been working components of firearms.
“These lazy bastards never threw anything away!” Reaver said as she picked through heavy-duty wall cabinets. “There isn’t much here to take, and, of course, all the halberds are gone.” She gestured with one hand at a collection of welded metal pipes. If I turned my head to one side and squinted, they kind of resembled a serviceable weapons rack.
“There isn’t much here to choose from,” she continued, “but there’s enough for each of us. Everyone pick something.”
I knelt beneath the table and found a locked cabinet. I gripped
