Caged Warrior (25 page)

Authors: Lindsey Piper

Tags: #Dragon Kings#1

♦ ♦ ♦

Nynn followed Leto. She had never been so overwhelmed.

The crowd surrounding a real combat Cage was thick. Loud. Eager. Men in suits and
women in evening gowns. Bodyguards and strange shadowy figures. Possibly even other
Dragon Kings, if their distinctive
bronzed skin and larger-than-life auras were any indication. That they would associate
so freely among humans struck her as peculiar. She couldn’t make sense of it.

There was a lot she couldn’t make sense of lately.

Like why seeing that doctor had propelled hand to hilt. She’d been ready to take off
his head. She’d envisioned it. The spray of blood. The strike of metal against flesh,
then deeper into bone. And then deeper still, into a place of satisfaction. Even justice.

Those images were the remnants of some dream. Leto had done her a favor by intervening.
Her opponents were in the Cages, not among the Asters.

There was no mistaking the grandeur of where she would do battle. Leto had described
it perfectly. Larger. Brighter. An ominous pall of significance made it far more than
a place to spar and learn. This was a place where futures were determined.

Probably a thousand people circled the Cage—a complete circle of spectators around
the familiar octagonal framework. Lights shone with the brightness of day. Only then
did she realize that each corridor since the one they’d entered upon arriving was
slightly brighter. A slow means of acclimating them to what would shine down like
another enemy.

She kept her eyes on Leto’s boots. Better to ignore the crowd. Better to focus. She
wore armor, carried a weapon and a shield, and climbed up eight webbed wrought iron
stairs behind one of the greatest warriors among the Dragon Kings. Their names were
announced.

A Cage warrior. The stuff of legend and nightmares. Nynn didn’t feel like a nightmare;
she felt like a blade. Sharp and ready to cut.

Despite countless distractions, she waited for the moment she’d come to relish: when
Leto stepped into the Cage. He tipped his head to the ceiling. His expression became
as animated as any she’d ever seen. He was in his element and
reveling
in it. Holding his mace and shield, he lifted his arms as if to encompass the arena,
then turned to stake his claim over the entire building. He roared back at the crowd.

Part man. Part animal.

Nynn followed him inside. The same gorgeous rush of freedom stole her breath. Power.
Just
power
. This was what it meant to have full possession of her Dragon-given gift. Her cells
quivered inside skin two sizes too small. The clay floor was like gritty mud beneath
the soles of her boots. Glaring lights atop each of eight support posts bathed them
in an unearthly shimmer. The visual echo of the Dragon, perhaps, as it dove into the
fiery Chasm and birthed their kind.

Two opponents entered the Cage. Weil was a short woman, as were most Pendray. She
had wild red hair that stood out from her head as if zapped with electricity. But
the one who truly commanded electricity was the Townsend warrior, Urman. Nynn’s allegiance
to the Tigony did not exist here. The only person she wanted to please right then
was Leto.

Only when an official entered the Cage did she catch a shift in Leto’s posture. He
stood straighter, chest out. Posturing. But bristling with something close to confusion.

The official carried two manacles connected with a ten-foot length of chain. “Leto.
Nynn. Your ankles.”

“What in the name of the Dragon is this?” he asked.

With a triumphant sort of smile, the human official nodded toward where the Old Man
sat with that doctor and the strange girl in black. “You knew the Asters wanted to
make these matches interesting.”

“And fighting with a partner isn’t interesting enough?”

“When the Old Man meant partners, he meant it. You’ll be chained together.”

“Fuck that. We fight as we were meant to, not chained like dogs.”

The small man—small compared to Leto, as most were—grabbed Nynn’s ankle. He affixed
the manacle too quickly for her to protest. Frustration like she’d never seen tightened
the tendons of Leto’s muscular throat. Then it was too late. They were bound together.

“And our opponents?” Nynn asked. “What of them?”

The official sneered. “Do you see another chain here, neophyte?”

Nynn removed her sword from its scabbard and absently twirled it through the air.
She fairly hummed with potential. Already she could feel the bubble of electricity—all
those beautiful colors, a whole spectrum—building inside her body. “No one calls me
neophyte but the man who trained me, and he won’t call me that after tonight. Shut
your mouth.”

She lifted her chin and found Leto’s gaze. Their gazes locked. Without the damping
properties of their collars, they produced a burst of gold and even green and blue—right
there in the five feet between their bodies. The crowd gasped. She almost felt the
light on her skin. It was like staring down the length of a kaleidoscope. Colors didn’t
wait for her at its end. Just Leto’s
dark eyes. Her awareness narrowed. Centered. Focused.

Only him.

Spellbinding.

“What
is
that?” Her voice was an awed whisper.

“I don’t know.”

She wanted to know what Old Man Aster thought of their little party trick, but she
didn’t want to look away from her partner.

“Do this,” she said softly. With his senses, she knew he’d be able to hear. “Best
fucking show they’ve seen in years.”

The chain rattled between them, dangerous as a snake’s hiss. His jaw was a granite
vise and his temple throbbed, pulsing that serpent to life.

The roaring beast was gone, but the seething, outraged man remained. He would not
bear this humiliation well. Nynn couldn’t wait to see what he would unleash. She only
hoped that she could keep up. Because no matter how much she would depend on him to
emerge triumphant, his only objective was to keep her alive.

He’d do so by whatever means necessary.

♦ ♦ ♦

Leto swallowed his anger. To be shackled again . . . chained, for the second time
in as many days. Treated like an animal rather than a warrior of worth. Every fiber
of every muscle protested. What good was a Garnis who was chained to a Tigony? His
reflexes and speed would be useless with Nynn as his anchor.

He grabbed her shielded arm and dragged her close. “Now who needs to keep up?”

“Not ideal, is it? Think of something. Quickly.” She was deadly serious.

Yes. Dragon be,
yes
.

The cheers were growing in ferocity. Across the Cage, Weil and Urman circled one another,
pacing, as if taunting Leto with their unencumbered legs. Weil used her long lance
to spin practice circles—strikes that would turn deadly earnest in a matter of seconds.
Urman held two sickles, without a shield. If he got the timing right, the Tigony trickster
could use those sickles as electrical conductors.

“I’ll stand in front of you,” Leto said. “We’ll leave as much slack as possible, to
let me move. Weil is the least predictable when she rages, but we’ve trained against
her. Urman is the one most likely to fry our brains. Watch my back and make sure you
fry them first.”

“How do I do that without taking you out, too?”

The bell rang to signal the start of the match.

“Figuring that out is your job.”

Within seconds, Weil was on them. Pendray warriors had the gift of a rage so intense
that it eventually earned its own name: berserker. The Nordic and Celtic peoples worshiped
that power. Leto thought it the least graceful method of attack. Not that it mattered
when Weil charged in. She spun in what looked like wild circles. In truth, they were
perfectly timed and with a precise line of attack. She never faltered or tripped,
and her lance didn’t dip as she became a living blender.

Leto countered her with his mace and shield. He snatched out a hand. Grabbed the end
of her lance. Pain shot up his arm, from wrist to shoulder. That stopped
her momentum. He caught her by the neck and tossed her against the far Cage wires.

The crowd’s appreciation added to the adrenaline of a match coming into its own.

The collars reactivated, which reduced them back to hand-fighting. Weil had recovered,
but her lance was in two pieces. She improvised with the skill of a long-trained warrior.

Urman whirled his sickles and edged toward Nynn. She countered as well as she could
with the high angle of her shield. The ferocity of her defense made up for any lack
of technique. Even Urman seemed taken aback. He retreated a pace, then renewed his
scissoring assault. Sweat made her blond hair spiky and her cheeks damp. A look of
wild excitement blazed from the palest eyes he’d ever seen, as if she were lit from
inside with a new color of fire.

The collars flipped off and on and off again. And the chain binding him to Nynn didn’t
give Leto the rhythm he liked to find during a match. But there came moments, gorgeous
moments, when he knew victory was in hand.

“Get behind me!” he shouted at Nynn.

She obeyed. Instantly. Leto smiled tightly.

“No more hand-fighting for you. Keep out of the way of the mace. Keep your shield
up. And dredge up some Dragon-damned fireworks.”

With his gift returned to him, Leto concentrated on keeping the two opponents at bay.
Not defeating them. Simply keeping them away from Nynn. The chain was deadweight on
the end of his leg. He’d once thought
Nynn would be that sort of hindrance. Now he was relying on her to conjure more power
than anyone in that arena had ever seen.

A burst of lightning shot from Urman’s sickles. Leto took the bolt with his shield.
Electricity shuddered up his left arm.

“Leto?”

“Numb. Can’t move it.”

Urman attacked again but Leto was able to avoid it. He was born to Clan Garnis. He
was a man fast enough to dodge lightning.

Weil shrieked—that wailing sonic attack. Her voice alone was enough to pierce Leto’s
sensitive hearing. She’d burst his eardrums before the match was over. He braced for
the strike of her lance, but the clay floor was giving way. His boots slipped. He
took hit after hit, where the violence shook from his shield into his numb, paralyzed
arm. Only the ball joint of his shoulder directed the shield now. Graceless. No precision.
Still he held the position, ready to stay there all night in order to fend off Weil.

Heat gathered at his back. At first he thought it was another burst of Urman’s lightning,
come to separate more of his nerves from his brain. But Urman was lying on the clay
floor. Nynn’s sword was embedded in his thigh. When in the Dragon’s name had that
happened?

That heat increased. Popping showers of sparks shimmering around. A waterfall of light.

Nynn.

“Get down!” she shouted.

Leto’s knee hit the Cage floor. He pulled the shield over his neck and head. Pure
instinct. The concussive blast propelled his face into the clay. A scream ripped through
the noise of the crowd. He groaned in pain at that unearthly sound—the sound of Nynn
ripping the roof off the Cage. The crowd shrieked its awed panic. Even among that
chaos, Leto was disgusted by their hypocrisy.

You wanted to see us fight. This is how we fight.

Lights on the octagonal posts burst. Only the crackling sizzle of Nynn’s gift lit
the arena.

When Leto lifted his head, he grinned. Flat-out grinned. Urman was still on his back.
Smoke trailed up from his thigh, where Nynn’s firestorm had touched the man’s sword.
May the nastiest Tigony win.
Urman hadn’t stood a chance. Weil was shivering against a Cage post. She held stumps
that had once been the pieces of her lance. Her eyes were wide disks. Had her chest
been still, instead of furiously pumping, Leto would’ve assumed her a corpse.

Leto turned to congratulate his partner, only to find her equally felled. Nynn lay
sprawled on the clay. Her shield was a burnt-out hollow.

The chain still connected their ankles.

He dropped his weapons, knelt, and looped the slack chain around his forearm, which
was slowly regaining sensation. He grabbed Nynn beneath her arms. Dragged her upright.
Shook her until she gasped. Her eyes had lost their silver shine, yet that strange,
colorful glow was still there. Quieter. Maybe even spent. It was still breathtaking.

“Can’t.” She coughed and nearly fell. “Can’t walk.”

“Yes, you can,” he said, fierce and low. “I’m not carrying you, neophyte. You have
to stand on your own to accept this applause.”

In truth, it was the loudest applause Leto had ever heard.