Orc’s Forbidden Claim (Red Planet Dragons of Tajss #33)

42. Khiara

42

KHIARA

H ood of my cloak pulled low, I slip along the outer edge of the city. The air is heavy with an acrid smell. The crevasse that opened in the middle of the city is the source of the odor. Smoke rises from the burning lifeblood of Tajss, filling the air with its heavy scent. The very nature of the cavern that contains our home also traps the smoke and the smell. Though it rises to the ceiling, there is not enough venting for it to escape in the volume it is emitting.

Most of the people are still gathered at the Shaman’s exhortation. I am sure he is extolling the virtues of his great plan to end this world and usher in the next. Lying to my people for his gain. To keep control. Anger boils and burns in my veins as if my blood has blended with the blood of Tajss, becoming liquid fire, searing me from the inside out.

My father used to counsel Dilacs and me that we should be like the mountain. Patient and imperturbable. I was better at it then Dilacs was, but right now I’m struggling to attain the calm that comes with that mindset.

I put all my attention out. Scanning the shadows, and the alleys I pass, and remaining alert to every hint of danger. I keep one hand over the pouch at my side which contains the fungus. It will save Sek’su.

I’m doing this for a lizard. How the world has changed.

I have, effectively, betrayed my people, but in so doing, I am also on the path to saving them. Redeeming them from the shadow of the Shaman. If Dilacs had not fallen in love and found his dragoste, none of this would have happened. I would never have found my dragoste either. I can never return to life before Saylor. That was far from living, it barely qualified as existing, waiting for the end.

I reach the very edge, pressing close against a hovel. Peeking around the corner I can see the tunnel I want to exit through, but there are three guards on duty. One of them is dressed in the robes of a Maulavi which is new. The Shaman must realize he’s losing his grip on the populace. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.

For now, it is a thing. That is all I know, but it is information, and I will get it to my Queen. She will know better than I how to make use of this knowledge. She will know if it bodes well or ill for our ultimate goal to overthrow him and reclaim her throne.

But first, I must get past them. Which is problem enough for the moment.

My legs grow numb crouching and watching. Waiting. Looking for an opportunity that doesn’t come. The three guards do not once relax their vigilance. I could try one of the other exits to the city, but it won’t do any good. I am certain that every exit is being guarded like this.

My stomach grumbles with hunger. I cannot continue to sit here. Sek’su will not survive if I don’t get this medicine back to him. The stupid lizard healers may think they’ve stopped the poison, but I know they are wrong. I’ve seen it before. Soon he will awaken and say he feels better. He’ll be alert and will seem like he is, but that will pass. He will collapse again, and the poison will then fill his heart and lungs, and he will die.

There has to be another way. I look around thinking. Finally, a possibility comes. I stand, but my legs have gone to sleep, making it difficult to move quietly. I rub my thighs, encouraging blood to return, keeping one eye on the guards. Feeling comes in painfully but I’m able to slip away from their searching eyes.

The streets remain empty. The Shaman must be on a roll, keeping the Urr’ki convinced that doom is the only way forward. I don’t know how long I have before he will be done, and the people will return to the ruin of their lives. The one thing I do know is, I need to be gone before that happens.

Slipping into a building that was once a smithy, but is now a hovel at best, I pause to let my eyes adjust to the low light. As I hoped, there are bits and pieces left behind that haven’t been scavenged as of yet.

I quickly dig through the clutter. Tajss provide, please. My one idea to escape without trying to fight three guards hinges on finding what I need. Broken tools, remnants of weapons, shards of steel and iron, but not the one thing I need.

Growling with anger, I toss aside the broken hilt of a sword and move to the forge. There is a lump in the cold ash. I grab the poker and stir the ashes and there it is. One anyway. I pluck it out and shake the ash away.

The claws fit onto my hand but the strap that binds them is missing. The points are dull but should still be workable, though they won’t be easy to use. I need another one for my other hand. Frowning, I dig around. The other part of the set should be here somewhere. Unless someone else already found it.

It takes far too long, but in a pile of scrap to the side, I find the mate to the hand claw. This one has its leather strap. Finding a broken shield is easy and I take the leather off of it to replace the missing piece.

Finally, I have the pair of claws strapped on. The sharp points are fastened against my palms. With these, I will be able to climb. Now, all I have to do is get back to where I was when the quake happened.

I move fast. There is no more time for stealth. The streets are still empty, but some sense tells me that won’t last long. No matter though because I make it to the wall. Three dozen armlengths, maybe a bit more or less. That’s the distance I need to climb to make the opening.

I’ll be exposed the entire time. If anyone looks up, even a casual glance.

I cannot focus on what might happen. This is a terrible idea, and I know it, but it’s also the only option, making knowing that a moot point. I stretch my legs, pull my knees to my chest, take two deep breaths as I look around to make sure no one is watching, and then I run.

Moving as fast as I can, I pour all my strength into it. When I’m an arms-length from the wall, I leap. Throwing my hands up, the wall speeds past as I rise. When momentum slows and the first pull of Tajss grips me, I slam my hands against the stone.

The hooks don’t penetrate. I’m sliding, iron hooks scraping, making more than enough noise to attract attention. I pull my right arm back and slam it against the wall again. The hooks catch and I stop hard. The drop jerks on my shoulder with enough force that I feel the socket start to pull apart, but the muscles and tendons hold, albeit painfully.

Hanging from one hand I am twisting back and forth. I swing my legs and am able to get the other hook to catch on the stone. I give myself a moment to catch my breath and let the pain ease. I know I don’t have long though and begin my climb.

I keep my eyes up, not out of fear of the distance to the floor below, but because an eye on the prize is the best way to keep my focus. If anyone spots me there will be nothing I can do about it. My one hope is to reach the opening and be out of sight before that happens.

The opening is coming closer. This might work. I might make it. Muscles burning with exhaustion, I refuse to slow down. One hand, then the next, pulling all my weight up. Closer and closer.

“Guards!”