Ryan choked on the dust and dirt clogging his throat. On his hands and knees, he squeezed his eyes shut against the grit layered on his face and concentrated on trying to draw a full breath.
Lungs? Seemed to be working in spite of the mountain of debris in his throat.
Hands and fingers? The cold crunch of broken concrete shifted under his weight. So, yes, hands and fingers were intact.
Spine? Neck? Back? Oh, yes. Definitely still functioning. They wouldn’t hurt so much otherwise.
Head? Still attached. As far as he could tell.
Grunting, he pivoted forward to get one aching knee under his chest and lifted his head, blinking at the darkness at the band of groaning young men in samurai armor scattered around the concrete chamber.
Ronnie was already on his feet, scouting. At least, Ryan assumed he was scouting. That’s generally what Ronnie did anyway. The man in dark blue armor dashed down the broken rails into the darkness and returned at a slower pace, but his expression was hidden within the depths of his helmet.
But if there were trouble, Ronnie would have his bow drawn. And he didn’t.
Karl sat cross-legged near the center of the room, back bent so his armored elbows draped over his knees. The row of spikes up the boy’s back made it look like he was bristling, but the soft angle of his shoulders told a different story.
Karl was exhausted.
That was new.
Logging that away for later. Ryan pushed himself to his feet and steadied his tumbling vision with a hand to his head.
Whatever had happened in the underground in the last few days had affected Karl in some way. The shape of his shoulders told Ryan all he needed to know. Karl had been worried, scared, and upset. But why? And what about?
Was it Stan’s injury?
Ryan glanced at the youngest member of their team, sprawled on his back next to Karl.
The boy didn’t seem to be suffering any worse than the rest of them, so it didn’t make much sense for Karl to still be worried.
But I’m still worried. Ryan frowned at the two boys. But that’s not unusual. I’m always worried. He shook himself.
Even if Stan seemed to be all right, a trip to the hospital was probably in the boy’s best interest, no matter how he insisted otherwise. Frankly, all of them could probably stand to be checked out. They were all dented and dinged, scraped and bleeding from at least a dozen wounds each.
Ryan glanced back to the caved in part of the underground.
Somewhere under that whole mess, Jinsoku had been crushed. They’d actually beaten him. Well—maybe they hadn’t beaten him. They ganged up on him, and Karl threw him into a wall. And the ceiling caved in. Did that classify as beating him?
Sam laid on his back, chest heaving, not speaking. Mia was already kneeling next to him, her gentle voice a soft murmur in the darkness. Somewhere in the shadows behind her, the old man Gideon sat in silence.
He definitely needed a doctor. The old man was covered in dust and dirt, blood seeping from a head wound and several spots on his arms and chest. It was a miracle he hadn’t broken anything.
That’s an assumption, Lewis. He might have broken everything.
Ryan winced at an ache in his hip that shot fire up his spine. Hopefully he hadn’t broken his hip. Karl would never let him live it down, and the “old man” nickname didn’t need to be that accurate.
He limped to where Sam lay and levered himself down to the floor. “Sam?”
“Go away.”
Ryan glanced at Mia who frowned at Sam with an irritated gleam in her eyes. “How is he?”
“He needs to go to a doctor.” Mia patted Sam’s green shoulder plate.
“No doctors.” Sam snorted. “No hospitals.”
“I’m not sure you get a choice.” Mia thunked the side of Sam’s helmet with her fist. “Stan either.”
“No doctor!” Stan groaned from the other side of the room.
“You got stabbed, Stan.” Ryan shook his head.
“Only a wee bit.”
Ryan turned so he could face Karl and Stan and paused when he met Karl’s gaze. Somewhere during the fight, Karl had taken a hit to the head that made it through his face shield, so a stream of blood trickled down the side of his nose and jaw. He flashed a roguish grin that showed all his teeth but didn’t reflect in his eyes.
“I’m gonna argue with the brat, old man.” Karl straightened. “He needs to see somebody about the hole in his chest.”
Ryan raised his eyebrows. So did Mia.
“Karl is advocating for a doctor?” Mia blinked.
“For Fish Face.” Karl pointed at the boy in light blue armor. “Heck, and Lurch too.”
“Leave me out of it, you menace.” Sam’s growl echoed in the chamber.
Ryan sighed.
Yeah. Something was wrong with Karl. Definitely. But it wasn’t something they could deal with right then. There was always too much to deal with, wasn’t there?
“Okay.” Ryan ran a hand over the back of his neck. “We’re all going to the hospital. We at least need to be checked out.”
Sam hissed at him and pushed himself up to his elbows. He started to argue and stopped—his one visible eye darting rapidly from side to side in its socket. He cursed under his breath and sank back to the floor.
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “You’re probably right.”
Ryan gawked at him.
Did he just say I’m right? He glanced at Mia, who was staring at Sam in shock as well. Okay. Something is also wrong with Sam. Wow.
A distant rumbling shook the walls, pebbles and larger rocks beginning to skitter down the curved ceilings and pitter-patter against the floors.
Ronnie appeared at his shoulder. “We need to get out of here,” he said, his breathing shallow, which probably meant bruised ribs. “This whole place is getting ready to come down.”
Ryan sighed.
Of course it was.
With their luck, Karl had probably thrown Jinsoku through a structural support.
“Okay.” Ryan got slowly to his feet. “Mia, can you—?”
“I’ve got Gideon.” She was already moving.
Ryan watched her hurry to the old man in the corner and drape his arm across her shoulders, the melodic tune of her voice soothing in the darkness.
His stomach tightened.
What would he do without her? What would have happened if she hadn’t come through this? How could he even attempt to lead this ridiculous band of misfits without her help and support? Jinsoku had her in his clutches for a day at least. The warlord could have killed her, hurt her, done whatever he wanted to her.
Nausea rocketed up Ryan’s throat.
Calm down. That isn’t going to help. He drew a deep breath, the fiery anxiety in his lungs like a sparkler on a summer evening. “Ronnie, you lead us out of here.”
Ronnie saluted back at him, already heading for the exit.
“Karl?” Ryan started and stopped when the orange-armored Midwesterner stooped down and lifted Stan against his side.
“Help the poor, pathetic British kid?” Karl smirked. “One step ahead of you, old man.”
“This poor, pathetic British kid is going to step on your toes, mate,” Stan grumbled.
His words slurred.
True, Stan was always a little hard to understand, but it was a good thing that they were going to a hospital in case he was hurt in some other way. Some other way than getting a sword through the chest. Ryan rolled his eyes. He needed to work on sorting his priorities.
He bent down to grab Sam’s elbow, and for once Sam didn’t push him away.
He must really be hurt.
Sam leaned on him as Ryan helped him get to his feet. Not for the first time, Ryan pretended that the other man’s astonishing height didn’t intimidate him. Sam was tall enough when he wasn’t wearing Hinode. In the armor, he was a fearsome sight to behold.
Hinode bore the battle scars of a fierce conflict with Jinsoku. Gashes, gaping wounds, and punctures pockmarked the green, gold, and white metal of the armor’s surface.
“Have you got a read on what’s hurt?” Ryan asked quietly as they moved through the darkness together.
Sam grunted.
Ryan hid a smile. That was Sam-speak for “nothing is hurt.”
Actually, that was Ronnie-speak too.
Look at me. Maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this leader gig.
They limped slowly behind Karl, who pulled Stan along. The two younger warriors cracked jokes after nearly every step. Oh well. At least they were entertaining themselves.
Ryan glanced up at Sam’s face, partly hidden in Hinode’s helmet.
They needed to talk.
Korin had come to San Francisco for Sam. He’d sent Ryan and Ronnie to DC specifically because something was wrong with Sam or with Hinode or with both. What had Jinsoku said to him? What had Jinsoku tried to do to him?
Had it worked? Had the warlord planted the seed of doubt that they could win? Was Sam thinking about going to Thallia’s side?
“Lewis, you’re thinking loud enough to wake the dead.”
Ryan clenched his jaw. “What?”
“Stop thinking. It hurts my brain.”
Ryan blinked and stammered. “Okay. So. I think now?”
Sam cast a sideways glare at him, but there was no heat in it. He sighed. “Would you just ask instead of letting the squeaky wheels in your brain overload?”
Ryan chuckled and navigated them around a pile of boulders. “I was—you’re right.”
“I know.”
“Korin sent us.” Ryan sighed. “His staff is connected to the armors somehow, and he could tell that something was going on with you. So he came to San Francisco and—he teleported Ronnie and me here. I guess teleported isn’t the right word. He sent us.” Ryan shrugged. “He was worried. So was I.”
“You’re always worried.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ryan smiled at him. “So—what happened?”
“What happened?” Sam scoffed.
“Jinsoku tried to recruit you, right?”
Sam didn’t answer immediately. The only sound was the metallic scuffling of their armored boots against the cracked concrete and the distant sound of the metros running.
“He made some good points,” Sam said softly.
Ryan’s heart twisted. “I’m sure he did. He’s a smart guy.”
“He is.”
Ryan’s throat closed. “You’re a smart guy too, Sam.”
Sam’s fingers on Ryan’s arm twitched. “He’s right about a lot of stuff.”
“Such as?”
“We can’t beat Thallia.” Sam pinned him with a harsh look. “We’re not strong enough to win. You have to see that, don’t you? I get that you’re an eternal optimist, Lewis. I hate that about you, but I get it. But even you have to know that we can’t beat him.”
Ryan didn’t stop walking, his heart hammering in his chest and his vision whirling. What was Sam saying? Had he decided to leave them? Was he going to stop being Reishosan? Was he going to join Thallia?
Ryan drew a long, deep breath and looked back to him, only to find Sam smirking at him.
“You don’t even know how loud you think, do you?” Sam scoffed. “Maybe that’s why you piss me off so much. I can always tell what you’re thinking because you broadcast it like the frickin’ evening news.”
Ryan turned away and pressed his lips together. “We can’t beat Thallia, you say.” He cleared his throat. “So what does that mean, Sam?”
“It means we can’t beat him.” Sam leaned more heavily against Ryan’s shoulder. “Yet.”
Ryan’s heart leaped, and he looked back at the taller man. “Yet?”
“Stan’s right.” Sam nodded. “About the armors. He’s right.” Sam shook his head. “I never should have doubted him.”
“What do you mean?”
Sam tapped the side of his helmet. “Hinode—it didn’t exactly speak to me, but we were—communicating.”
Ryan beamed. “You were? Is that how you found your sword?”
“Pretty much.”
“That’s a heck of a sword, Sam.”
Sam flashed a grin. “Yes, it is.” His grin faded. “Jinsoku helped me.”
Ryan scowled. “He—helped you?”
“He did.” Sam nodded. “I wouldn’t have been able to find the sword if Jinsoku hadn’t shown me how to do it. He walked me through it. That was—how he got me thinking about—about—”
“Going to Thallia’s side?” Ryan whispered, a chill racing through his veins.
Sam hesitated and closed his eyes. “Yeah.” It was barely a whisper.
“You thought about it.”
“Yeah, I thought about it, Ryan.” He sounded disgusted with himself.
“But you didn’t.”
Sam waited for a moment. “No, I didn’t.”
Ryan released his pent-up breath. “What happened to make you decide?”
Sam winced as they had to walk around another boulder. “He wanted to leave Gideon behind.” He smiled. “That was my line. I wouldn’t cross it.”
“I’m glad.”
Slowly, Sam glanced at him and held his gaze. “Me too.”
“So.” Ryan kept moving them forward toward a light in the distance that Ronnie had locked onto. “We can’t beat Thallia yet. I agree.”
“You’d be stupid to disagree.”
“How are we going to beat him, Sam?”
Sam focused his gaze on the light at the end of the chamber. “There’s more to the armors than we realize, Ryan. It’s more than just being able to talk to them or partner with them or ask them for help. There’s—it’s deeper than that. They have a history.”
Ryan tightened his grip around Sam’s back. “Well, it’s a good thing you like digging up history then.”
Sam smiled.
A genuine smile.
What was even happening right now?
Then, almost as if he realized he was smiling, Sam scowled twice as hard. “This doesn’t mean I think you’re a great leader. You’re not. You suck.”
Ryan fought the urge to smile. “I know, Sam.”
“And it doesn’t mean I like you. I don’t. You’re—I don’t like you.”
Fighting to keep the smile off his face was harder than before. “That’s okay, Sam. You can not like me all you want.”
Sam’s hand stopped twitching, his fingers curling around Ryan’s shoulder plate as they scaled a section of fallen wall together.
“Thanks,” Sam said under his breath.
Still smiling, Ryan patted his back. “Any time.”
Sam stopped walking, and Ryan had to stop with him, glancing up at the other man, with a questioning glance.
“No, Ryan.” Sam turned his face away and wouldn’t look at him. “I mean—thanks. For coming.”
His eyes burned with tears, but he forced them down. If Sam caught him crying, he’d never live it down. His nickname would change from old man to cry baby.
“Sam,” he started quietly, “I’ll always come. I’ll always be there.”
Sam rolled his eyes and pushed away from him, limping forward to the opening in the tunnel ahead of them. “I know. It’s so annoying.”
Ryan folded his arms across his armored chest and watched Sam limp to where Ronnie was beckoning him. What had just happened? He’d had a conversation with Sam Logan that didn’t end in a screaming match. It was—pleasant.
Surely it wouldn’t last. Surely they’d be back to arguing and shouting at each other again in a few hours, but for the moment, he could enjoy it. Some part of him had dreamed of a day where he and Sam could just talk—like friends. Maybe even be friends someday.
He’d begun to think it was impossible. But maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t.
Oh, geez, I really am going to cry if I keep this up.
He heaved a sigh and followed Ronnie out the opening to the chamber. Several flashes of light greeted him as he stepped into the sunlight as the others called their armors down.
Karl and Ronnie were both covered in bumps and bruises and not much blood. Sam and Stan were in bad shape. Sam had deep gashes in his arms and his legs, all of which had started bleeding through his ripped, torn clothing the instant his armor came off.
Stan had many of the same injuries, and at the center of his shirt a dark red bloodstain had turned his clothing dark.
“Gosh, Stan.” Ryan took the young man’s arm and reached for his shirt.
“Blimey,” Stan muttered and lifted the hem of the shirt up only to pause.
Under the dried blood from the chest wound, there was no indication that he’d been injured.
“What the heck?” Ryan murmured. “Karl, you said he was stabbed.”
“Clean through.” Karl peered over Ryan’s shoulder. “From back to front, like a kebab.”
Stan winced. “Thanks for that picture, mate. Really helpful.”
Ryan took the boy’s arm and took a steadying breath.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you that he’s okay. Ryan eyed the boy’s other injuries. For the most part at least.
“I guess the armor healed it,” Mia said from where she stood with Gideon. “But you’re all still going to the hospital.” She pointed toward the street. “Ambulances are still around. We can tell them we climbed out of the rubble.” She left Gideon’s side and tucked her arm around Stan. “Karl, you and Ronnie get Sam up the stairs. Ryan, you help Gideon.”
She started toward the steps ahead of them, taking Stan with her.
In testament to Mia’s powers of persuasion, nobody argued.
Karl and Ronnie took point on either side of Sam, and the three of them limped up the steps to the ground level together.
Ryan took a slow breath and shut his eyes. “Kieru so.”
Kazan burst into flames of red light and vanished from around his body, dissipating into the air. The rush of aches and pains hit him like a truck, but he breathed through it until the world stopped spinning.
“All right, Mr. Gideon.” Ryan approached the tall blind man. “I’m right here.” He took the old man’s elbow and helped him stand up.
Again, Ryan pretended not to notice how tall the man was.
It made sense, right? Gideon had raised Sam, so he had to be the same size just to get his bluff in.
“You’re Ryan?” The old man leaned on him, his voice breathy and full of pain.
“That’s me.” Ryan patted his back and guided him to the steps. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Gideon flashed a toothy smile, his mouth bloody. “Well, that’s a fine thing. I’m glad to meet you. Was hoping I would.”
They scaled the first step together.
“You wanted to meet me?” Ryan chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of stories by now.”
“I have. From all of those boys.” Gideon squeezed his shoulder with a hand the size of a dinner plate. “And from my boy too.”
Ryan grimaced. “Oh, I’m sure Sam has told you some things. I’m not sure I should admit to any of them or not.”
Gideon chuckled, a low sound deep in his chest. “I need to thank you, Ryan.”
Ryan laughed. “For what?”
Gideon’s bloodshot, sightless eyes shone. “It does me a world of good knowing who’s the one keeping that lunkhead boy of mine on the right track.”
Ryan sighed as they conquered another step together. “Oh, sir, that’s not me. Sam lives with us, and we work on being a family. But, I don’t keep him in line. Sam walks his own way and always has.”
Gideon patted his back again. “You’re right, son. He does. He’s a smart boy, my Sam.”
“He is.”
Gideon leveled a pointed glance at him that made Ryan second guess that he was blind. “But even a genius needs to check a road sign every once in a while. And when he does, I hope you know he’s looking at you.”
Ryan stared back at the old man, his mouth dry and his eyes burning with tears again.
“I appreciate that, sir.”
Gideon nodded. “Good. So. Can we get out of here?”
Ryan laughed and nodded with him. “Absolutely, sir. I think we’ve all had more than enough fun down here.”
Ryan led the old man up another step and smiled to himself as he listened to Mia giving orders on the surface. They were going to be okay. Actually, they were going to be better than okay.
Maybe they were even going to be friends.
That might have been a stretch, but it certainly wasn’t as impossible as Ryan thought it was a few days earlier.