When he reached the wheel lock, a deafening, hollow bang came from inside the vat. Rhynehart jumped a little, Corian folded his arms, and L’zar chuckled. Cheyenne blinked and stepped away from the rail. “Maybe we should focus on what’s inside that thing instead of how many records you can break. ‘Cause this doesn’t sound very—”
Another echoing bang from inside the metal drum, then another, followed by what sounded like sandpaper and a metal pick scraping the tank’s interior wall. An involuntary shiver went down Cheyenne’s spine.
The second L’zar’s long fingers closed around the curving bar of the wheel lock, the noise inside the tank stopped. Grinning, he pulled fiercely on the wheel, which gave stiffly at first but then spun faster under his control. The lid’s seal broke with a hiss, and the drow thief hauled the massive, heavy metal lid up and over to rest it on the thin rail surrounding the top of the vat. Then he got down on all fours at the edge of the opening and peered inside. “Hello, old friend.”
A bellowing roar burst from the tank into L’zar’s face. The drow snapped his fingers to remove his human illusion, and his white hair fluttered away from his high cheekbones, but he stayed where he was and grinned even wider.
The creature inside the tank snarled and thrashed, filling the multistoried room with metallic bangs, scraping, and a long, drawn-out hiss. Then a deep voice that sounded more like a roaring bear than a voice echoed inside the vat. “Release me!”
“Yes, that’s precisely why we’re here.” L’zar cocked his head as the thing inside the vat pummeled the metal walls, roaring and snarling.
Cheyenne frowned at the clink of metal against metal her drow hearing picked up beneath the ruckus. They put this magical in a tank with no light or sound and chained him down inside? She stepped to the rail again and peered over the edge into the open vat. A mass of green-brown scales, glinting claws, and thick iron chains writhed inside the tank, filling nearly the entire space. “Shit, he’s big.”
“Indeed.” L’zar scrambled sideways along the opening and tilted his head in the other direction. “And pissed off.”
“If you came here merely to laugh at me, Weaver,” Venga roared, his voice crashing through the circular room, intensified a hundred times by all the metal, “you can piss off.”
“Come now. I’m allowed to have a little fun.”
Venga pounded so forcefully on the inside of the tank that a round bubble popped out along the smooth outer wall, filling the room with the screech of twisting metal.
“Get him out, L’zar,” Corian warned.
“Oh, there’s suddenly a time limit?”
“You know exactly how long we have.”
Venga roared and thrashed beneath the thick, sliding chains coiling around his body.
“I’m well aware, Corian. Does anyone happen to have a key?”
Rhynehart’s mouth popped open, and he glanced quickly at Cheyenne before shouting over the balcony, “Why the fuck would there be a key? It’s not like anyone in this prison planned on letting him out!”
“Hmm. Well, then.” Steadying himself in his crouch with one hand pressed firmly against the metal walkway, L’zar lifted his other hand in front of him and moved his fingers in quick, precise twists.
Rhynehart pounded on the railing. “Hey! I said no—”
A bright silver flash illuminated both L’zar’s hand and the inside of the tank, then the mass of thick iron chains slithered off all at once and clanged noisily to the floor. Venga roared again and pounded both sides of the tank with his fists, buckling the walls outward.
The bright light filling the chamber cut off with a sharp pop, replaced by low red light and a blaring siren drowning out everything else.
“Goddammit!” Rhynehart gripped the rail and leaned dangerously toward the tank below. “What part of no fucking magic did you not understand?”
L’zar turned slowly around to look up at the agent and raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have a key.”
“Fuck.” Rhynehart vigorously scratched the back of his head and glanced at the metal door into the chamber while the security siren screamed at them. “We weren’t supposed to have to fight anyone for this.”
“Then I suggest we leave now.” Corian vaulted over the rail and landed beside L’zar on the top of the tank with a metallic thud.
“Jesus.” Rhynehart pushed away from the rail and headed for the door leading to the security checkpoint.
Cheyenne leaped over the rail and joined her father and Corian on the tank. They looked up at her with barely concealed smiles, then she glanced at Rhynehart. “You might wanna hurry down the stairs.”
The second the agent looked down at the vat again, Venga erupted in another bellow and banged the tank with what sounded like a dozen fists at once.
“No.” Rhynehart shook his head and grabbed the door handle. “Fuck that thing in there. Now my people know we’re here, and I gotta go cover our tracks. Make sure at the very least this doesn’t fall back on my agents out here. Hopefully not on me, either, but if you’re serious about not fighting anyone—”
“Then go,” Corian shouted over the obnoxiously blaring siren. “Let Cheyenne know when you’re out of here.”
“Right.” Licking his lips, Rhynehart nodded at Cheyenne, then shoved the door open and stepped into the next room.
“Rhynehart, what the fuck?” Bhandi shouted on the other side, then the door closed, and that was all the conversation Cheyenne got to hear.
“Venga,” L’zar called in a warning voice. “We’re coming in there, and then we’re getting you out. I would very much like to stand beside you in one piece, and I have no desire to have to fight you in order to break you out of this fell-damn prison. We’re running out of time.”
The scaly, upright-standing magical twice the size of Nu’ek the Golra stopped thrashing and looked up at L’zar with glittering all-black eyes. Cracked, scaly lips parted to reveal razor-sharp teeth, then the growling voice
