Page 48 of Fortune's Blade

And if it went, so did I. Not for a meal, but for an eternity in a little concrete box, because without a gate, no one could find the portal I’d made for myself in non-space. Leaving me stuck here until I suffocated or starved or offed myself with one of the many available weapons, because the alternative was—

Not happening, I thought, breaking out of my moment of stunned realization and grabbing one of the big boys. Because fuck dying alone, lost in a little capsule in nothingness. Fuck that right to hell!

Along with the goddamned creature who’d swallowed me.

I flung open the door, a new weapon in hand. It was experimental, a bastard of a thing that didn’t even have a name yet, but which I had dubbed The Liquidator since that was what usually happened to anything that encountered it. It was basically an acid grenade launcher on steroids, and in trials, I’d seen it dissolve a Mack truck.

Here’s hoping, I thought, and let loose.

And, okay, that was doing something, I realized, as the whole arsenal abruptly began rocking hard enough to throw me off my feet. It wasn’t supposed to do that, but maybe the rules changed when you had the door open and were actively connected to another world? Or maybe the damage was worse than I’d thought, and the whole thing was about to collapse on top of my head!

I didn’t know, and didn’t have time to ponder the possibilities. The mad thrashing sent me tumbling off the stairs, hitting the ground, and dodging to avoid a shelf full of small arms that smashed into the concrete beside my head. And then crawling back up again, to wedge myself into the doorway and keep on firing, despite the whole place feeling as if it had been caught in an earthquake.

Only there was no earth here, just dragon flesh, which it seemed wasn’t impervious to everything, after all. But I couldn’t tell how much damage I was doing because I couldn’t see. The Liquidator didn’t have a tactical light and I couldn’t hold it and the flashlight both.

And couldn’t spare time to give a damn, because the movement was causing waves of stomach acid to slosh over the doorframe! As if I didn’t have enough problems right now! Even worse, the damned stuff was almost as good as what I was shooting, etching the stairs at it flooded downward, and eating into the soles of my shoes.

I cursed, grabbed another suppressant, and smashed it on the stairs to stop the liquid from dissolving the concrete. But I still had to duck behind a warded cabinet to keep from being immolated by my own stash, some of which the flood had set off in the room behind me. So much for my wardrobe, I thought, as it went up in flames after one of my own firebombs hit it.

What hit me was a sudden beam of light from the darkness beyond the doorframe. Smoke was billowing everywhere inside my arsenal now so I still couldn’t see too well. But I kicked off my shoes, grabbed some thick soled boots before they went up in flames, shoved my feet inside and made my way back up there.

And saw a hole in the “cave” wall not too far away, a big one.

But it didn’t show me the dining hall.

I couldn’t see much of anything beyond the ring of fire, with fluttery bits of burning flesh around it and a smaller hole further back which I guessed was to the outside? I couldn’t tell as it opened less onto light than onto slightly softer darkness. It seemed bright down here in the depths, but it really wasn’t.

That didn’t make sense, as the hall had been filled with color and light and noise only a few moments ago. So, maybe I hadn’t torn through to the outside, after all. But then, where was the light coming from?

I concentrated, but heard nothing now, except for the whistling of the wind. And I was pretty sure that it was wind this time, and not the labored breathing of the dragon’s lungs, because I could hear that, too. But this was louder and constant, not in and out, but almost as if—

I didn’t get a chance to finish the thought before another screech tore through the darkness and my vision suddenly skewed. Now I was looking at a light, all right—a moon, shining through the two gaping, burning holes. Not Earth’s moon, with its familiar craters and valleys, but a moon, nonetheless.

One spreading light across the open sky and inward through the wound I’d made, because we weren’t in the tower anymore. We’d left it behind and were airborne, me and the creature who had decided to swallow me. I saw a few snow-capped peaks, silvered by moonlight, for an instant, before we slung around in another direction.

Only not for long.

Because it looked like The Liquidator had done its job, enough that the beast carrying me across the heavens was struggling. I could hear its screams constantly now, muffled by the surrounding acres of dragon flesh; could see the visual in front of me changing repeatedly as the beast writhed across the sky, fighting to stay aloft; could feel the sudden jerk and accompanying weightlessness when it failed.

And shit.

Chapter Sixteen

I jerked back inside the arsenal as we began to plummet and slammed the door. And stood there for a second with my back to it, arms splayed and mind racing, wondering if my already tattered gateway would hold up to a mile long fall onto rocky cliffs while encased in a few thousand pounds of dragon flesh. And what would happen to me if it didn’t.

Then I grabbed what I could, including my bug out bag, any weapon with a strap I could throw over my back, and a personal shield. I slapped the latter around my wrist before flinging open the door, preparing to jump and take my chances. But something had happened in the brief time I’d been away.

Something I didn’t understand, because the only light I had was being slung around wildly and obscured half the time by something else. Something that I couldn’t see, even when I shone my flashlight at it, because it didn’t stay put long enough. And because the dragon I was riding in was pretty damned active for a corpse!

I finally realized that my dragon wasn’t responsible for the contortions; that was down to those who were currently fighting over it. I couldn’t tell exactly what was happening, except that it was taking place hundreds of feet up and involved deafening screeches, massive claws and flying blood. And left me being slung about as the body I was riding in was jerked back and forth.

After a moment of silently cursing, I decided that this changed nothing. And to go with the initial plan of getting the hell out of there, because part of surviving a fight is knowing when you are outclassed. And being smart enough to swallow your pride and run.

I had no problem with running, but I did have a problem getting to the opening to allow me to do so.

The fight had caused the stomach acid to begin sloshing about like waves on the ocean—toxic, acidic waves. And while it shouldn’t have been able to get through my shield, I’d just seen the stuff eat a dozen potion bombs while barely burping. I stared at it, watching it froth and foam a few feet below the doorframe, and did not feel confident.

But there was nothing for it, so I stuck in a toe, and when it failed to get eaten off, jumped down into a sea of foul-smelling liquid. It was thicker than water, and darker; when submerged, I couldn’t see a thing, which did not help with the disorientation. I couldn’t even see the indicator light on my shield, which was supposed to protect me for a full half hour but that was under normal conditions.

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