Dragon-Ridden (21 page)

A thought occurred to Tate, “You’re
more talkative now.”

It was too dangerous before. The
pale masters would have heard.

“Pale masters? I don’t understand.”

Night nudged Tate’s hand up into
the dim light. Next to his darker fur, her skin was as pale as moonlight. Tate
drew her fingers through the fur at the base of his neck. It was soft, softer
than she’d expected. She traced his lethal claws gently and startled at the
pebbled skin under the claws.

She’d been wrong. There was nothing
monstrous about him. He was simply different from anything she’d seen before,
but that didn’t make him a creature to be feared. It made him majestic and
fierce, and he was the only one she could count on at the moment to get her
back to the surface.

“My name’s Tate,” she said.

Name?

“Yes. It’s what I’m called to
distinguish me from others. What do people call you?”

He thought about it, his forehead
creasing in thought. Hesitantly, he said,
Experiment 1162.

“Experiment?“ The answer shocked
Tate. Furthermore, it wasn’t a name, simply a number for an experiment. Tate
didn’t have much in the way of a past, not even a full name, but what she did
have she clung to with every fiber of her being. She wondered if he was the
same. “Do you like that name?”

His response was slow in coming.
It
is simply what they called me
.

“Who?” she asked.

The creators,
he said,
looking off into the darkness, his eyes glowing briefly as they caught the
light.
Memories are fragmented. Woke up from sleep. Worlds different. Hard
to remember things
.

Tate felt a sense of kinship with
this being who was as lost as she was. At last, here was the link to her past
she’d been looking for. She just hadn’t expected that clue to be as forgetful
as her.

She confided in him what she had
never told another, “We’re alike, you and me. I remember nothing from before I
slept as well. Only my name. Tate. I don’t know who I was. Every new situation
is a test. How can I react to something if I don’t even know what my actions
should be?”

Tate let the silence fall, tired
from putting into words what she had struggled with for all these long months.
It felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, her burden shared
even if only through words.

When you think of me you use the
word Night,
he said.

Tate blinked at him. “I hadn’t
realized you could pick that up.”

Why Night?

She shrugged. “I often name people
and things. It helps me keep things in perspective and gives me a little
entertainment at the same time. If you don’t like it we can change it.”

His tail swished behind him.
It’s
too short.

After a moment of stunned
confusion, Tate started laughing until tears streamed down her face, a laugh
that flung away the dark thoughts and feelings that had been weighing her down
all these months.

“What did you have in mind?” Tate
asked when her laughter had died down. “We can change it if you don’t like it.”

Night, Ni-eght, Niiiight,
he
tested the name, stretching out the syllables.
Still too short,
he
yowled plaintively.
How about Pounces Through The Night Swiftly?

Tate blinked at him, nonplussed.
That was a very unique name. “I’m not calling you that.”

She climbed to her feet.
Why
not?
Night asked as they followed the tunnel to another intersection.
The
length will strike fear into my enemies hearts.

“It’ll strike something alright.”

One Pounces Mightily from the Dark.

“No.”

Roars Deeply into the Silence
.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into
this haven’t you?”

You like it
? he asked,
perking his ears.

“Definitely not.”

The two bickered back and forth as
they made their way through the tunnels, their voices echoing off the walls.
Night proposed names, each worse than the last, and Tate just as quickly shot
them down.

It helped keep Tate’s mind off the
endless tedium of dimly lit corridors as they proceeded like rats trapped in a
maze. The awareness of how deep underground they must have been persisted in
the back of her mind, keeping her on edge and making her sweat more than the
cool temperature would normally allow.

Night’s ears swiveled, as he tilted
his head to listen to something. Tate froze in place while he crouched and
sniffed the air. He bared long white fangs in a silent show of aggression. Tate
strained to hear whatever had made him upset. There was a whisper of sound,
like silk rubbing against skin. Tate couldn’t even be sure she’d heard it, that
it wasn’t something her mind had made up, a result of listening too hard.

She held her tongue, wanting to
know what it was, but also knowing that to speak now would no doubt alert
whatever it was to their presence. So she waited, every muscle in her body
tensing for battle. Even the presence in her mind waited in watchful
anticipation as the dragon’s claws kneaded her arm.

Tsuchigon
, Night hissed.

“I don’t know what that is,” Tate
whispered. From the way Night said it though, it didn’t sound good.

They have the face and torso of
the hairless ones but many, many more black legs
, Night said without taking
his eyes from the tunnel.
Wandered into territory while escaping
.

“Lucius was saying something about
them,” Tate said inching forward. She stopped when Night flicked an ear at her
in irritation. She thought about the conversation and gasped.

What?
Night asked, backing
towards her. It was odd how carefully he moved, considering the tunnel was
empty. He ducked under another unseen barrier and crept to the wall as he made
his way back to her, abruptly belly crawling for no reason that she could see.

Momentarily distracted by his
antics, she said distractedly, “Lucius said they were responsible for killing
his men… I’m sorry, what are you doing?”

Free of whatever had been bothering
him, Night bounded to his feet at Tate’s side.
Tsuchigon strands. They trap
and hold prey until spinners come
. Night’s whiskers pointed to a gossamer
thin strand a foot in front of Tate’s face. It was all but invisible and only
because Night had pointed it out could Tate even see it. She reached out to
touch. It didn’t’ look remotely strong enough to trap anyone bigger than an
insect. Night’s teeth closed gently on her wrist.

She withdrew carefully. He let her
slip her arm from his mouth. “What was that for?”

Vibrations to the web will alert
them to our presence. They’re not strong enough to entangle. Those are closer
to their nest’s center, but can track us with them. They are fierce warriors,
especially when protecting their nests. Pale two legs make a good meal,
especially for the young.”

Tate’s nose wrinkled. That was not
a good image and definitely not how she would want to die. “What do we do then?
Go back?”

Night studied the dark as he
thought. It would be difficult for him alone to navigate the threads and with
someone who could only see them with assistance, near impossible. Turning back
wasn’t an option with Lucius’ men combing the tunnels looking for them, and the
Red Lady’s keep was on the other side of the Tsuchigon’s territory. Finding an
alternate route was impossible without backtracking all the way to the Night
Market, costing them time they didn’t have if they wanted to rescue his cubs.

The facts of their situation
weren’t lost on Tate. Night’s indecision could only mean this was the only way.

Night’s posture was dejected as he
bent his head in resignation. His sorrow pulled at Tate. How bittersweet it
must be to have someone that you were willing to do anything for, even risk
unimaginable danger. It made her yearn for forgotten things.

“Night,” she said before he could
speak. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

Gratitude filled his face before a
mask of grim resolve hardened it.
Follow me.

Tate’s lips quirked as she replied,
“Lead the way.”

If the web triggers, run as if
the hounds of the abyss are nipping at your heals,
Night told her.
Fighting’s
useless. If lucky, we’re on the edge of their territory and can make it out
before they reach us.

Tate nodded. Trigger web, run.
Seemed easy enough, though the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach made a
mockery of that thought.

It was slow going with Night
leading and Tate following in his exact movements. It wouldn’t have been so bad
if they’d simply been walking, but contorting the body to slip through the fine
strands only to sink and crawl a few feet afterwards made their progress
painfully slow. Tate’s elbows smarted from one of those floor crawls, stinging
in a way that let her know she’d rubbed the skin off. She blew a strand of hair
out of her face and nodded as Night indicated a series of closely woven
threads.

They fell into a pattern, letting
Night move forward a couple of feet. She followed and stopped to let him plot
out their next few feet. Soon her back screamed in protest and sweat dribbled
down her face. Her companion seemed to be made of rock, relentless in his
endurance and pace. She couldn’t prevent a tinge of envy for the big guy’s
abilities. He slipped through the web like a ghost with her plodding behind
like an ungraceful giant.

She kept waiting for her pains to
coalesce and fade into the background, but they never did. She remained
fiercely aware of the cramping in her left calf and the throbbing in her right
knee. She wouldn’t complain though; she’d chosen to come. It was tempting to
beg for a break but one look at Night’s bristling fur and any comment she
thought to make dried up before leaving her tongue.

Night twitched his tail, signaling
her to freeze. She did, one foot hovering in the air, terrified that she’d
triggered the web. She didn’t move, barely daring to breathe as he crouched
down and sniffed the air.

The web’s are getting closer and
closer together. Gets more difficult from here,
he said his whiskers
twitching in thought. The sight of her frozen one foot in the air, her eyes
bugging out of her face, caused him to snort back a huffing sound that sounded
suspiciously close to a laugh.
Put your foot down. You won’t touch as long
as you don’t straighten.

With a relieved sigh, Tate put her
foot flat on the ground but remained bent slightly forward. “More difficult?
What’s the last hour been like for you?” she muttered.

I don’t see any way not to alert
the Tsuchigon to our presence if we continue forward,
he said.
The strand
groupings are getting more intricate and exhaustion will eventually make us
careless.

“Who’s exhausted?” Tate bluffed,
knowing he was talking about her. “I could go on like this for hours, days
even.”

Night huffed at her. She supposed
it was his way of saying not likely. “We can’t go back,” she finally said.
“We’re too far in and our circumstances haven’t really changed.”

No. We can’t
, he agreed, his
feline face deep in thought.

His eyes sharpened on something
above Tate’s head. She held stock-still. He moved with a feline grace, standing
up on his hind legs as he plucked a strand of clear silk from her hair with one
claw. She closed her eyes in dismay.

Danglers. My fault. Was careless
,
he said.
Didn’t think they’d have them this far out.

“Danglers?” Tate asked, not really
caring if he answered. The damage had already been done, it didn’t really
matter if she knew why they were going to die or not.

They attach loose threads to the
web so they can wave in the air and attach to prey. It’s a defense against my
kind who can see the threads and slip through
, he said examining the thread
closely. He pulled it carefully from her hair. When it had attached to Tate, it
would have broken from the web sending a vibration, warning the web master
responsible for this section of intruders.

Night’s ears swiveled as they
picked up the faint skittering sound of many legs approaching. He hooked his
teeth into her sleeve and dragged her in his wake.
We need to go
.

“No argument here.”

They picked up their pace until
they were running flat out, not caring anymore if they were breaking the web’s
strands. Night led, his stronger legs eating up the distance in an easy lope.
Tate struggled to keep up with his rigorous pace, trusting that he knew where
he was going.

It wasn’t long before she could
hear what had frightened him, the quick click, click, click of thin spider legs
against stone. By now the threads had grown stronger and weren’t as inclined to
break easily, instead holding on with a tensile strength that belied their delicate
appearance.

Tate shook free of one particularly
sticky one and noted that Night had stopped at an L-shaped intersection.

“What’s wrong?” she panted,
reaching his side.

We’re trapped
. He roared at
the approaching enemies, his trumpet call of aggression echoing off the narrow
walls. A swarm of chittering, high laughing squeaks were his reply.

“What do you mean? We can just keep
going,” Tate said pointing down the tunnel.

No, they’re coming from that
direction too
, he said dejected.
We’re dead.

What? No. She wasn’t ready to die,
especially not by whatever was coming. She spun in a circle, her mind filtering
through possible escapes. She had no weapon, so fighting was definitely out.
From the way Night acted, bargaining for safe passage would do no good either.

Her eyes settled on a small stone
that glowed slightly brighter than the others. It pulsed in a quick sequence of
slow, slow, fast, slow, slow, fast. She hit it in frustration. Pretty lights
weren’t going to be enough to save them. Instead of hurting her hand as she
expected, it gave under her fist in a welcoming burst of light.