“Yes.” Heriton pointed at the page. “According to this, Sardelle Terushan was born three hundred and thirty-four years ago.”
“How is that possible?”
“She’s a witch is how,” General Nax snarled. “And you’ve been aiding her since she showed up here. More than aiding her if the gossip can be believed.” He squinted at Ridge. “Your career is over, boy. Now where is she?”
Ridge turned his back on them so he could climb down from the flier—and recover his equanimity. Or at least figure out how to mask his features and control the roiling unease in his belly.
“Even if she were a witch, I’ve never heard anything about tainted people being immortal,” he reasoned, facing them again and holding out a hand for the book. “It must be a mistake. Maybe she was named after this person because of a resemblance.”
Heriton didn’t release the book, but he did hold it up so Ridge could see the pages better—and read the text. He puzzled through the entry. Apparently it was one of several in some sort of roster. The picture… damn, that was undeniably her. The words had been laid down with a printing press, but the portrait was hand-painted, its colors faded somewhat with time, though the book itself had been well preserved in its rocky tomb.
“Position… sherastu?” he wondered aloud, picking words from the description. “And healer.” The latter made his stomach start writhing all over again. His hand drifted to his chest, where the scratches from the giant owl had healed extremely well, leaving only the faintest of scars. “Seven gods,” he whispered.
“I repeat,” Nax said, “where is she?”
Ridge met his hard eyes. “What are you going to do to her?”
“Answer the question, Colonel!” Nax lunged forward, as if to grab Ridge by the collar—or neck.
Reacting on instinct, Ridge stepped back. He thumped against the front of the flier, but he blocked the attack. The general barely seemed to notice. His finger came back in, this time pointing at Ridge’s nose. “Boy, you’ve been helping her from the start. I’ve gotten the whole story.”
When Ridge glanced at the captain, Heriton swallowed and looked away.
“Your career is dead. If you don’t want to get pounded by a firing squad, you’ll tell me where she is right now, and you’ll damned well help us figure out a way to imprison her.”
“You won’t find anyone to shoot him here, Father,” Vespa said. She had been watching this whole exchange with wide eyes, and lifted her hand a few times as if she wanted to intervene, but she ultimately let her arms fall to her sides.
“I’ll shoot him myself,” Nax roared.
“I’ve read that iron boxes are supposed to nullify their artifacts,” Captain Heriton said. “Perhaps we could line one of the solitary confinement cells with iron, and she wouldn’t be able to escape until we’ve thoroughly questioned her.”
“Gotten the location of the rest of the crystals, you mean?” Ridge asked.
“I don’t care for your tone, Colonel,” Nax said.
“What? Not sarcastic enough for you? I’ll work on that.”
“Sir,” Heriton whispered. Nax was too busy fuming to respond.
“Look, General. I don’t know where she went. I’ve—” Another boom drifted across the mountainside. Judging by where the snow flew up, that shot had landed much closer. Thanks to its elevated position, the airship had a greater range than the artillery weapons on the wall. “I don’t have time to talk about this now. We’re straw bales on the rifle range right now. We’ve got to get this flier off the ground to have a chance at defending ourselves against an air attack.”
Heriton eyed the battered and dented craft. “If that’s our only chance… ” He must have decided morale wouldn’t be served by voicing the rest, for he merely shut his book and walked away, shaking his head.
Nax still had smoke coming out of his ears, but his face had grown a shade less red. “Fix it up, Zirkander. But know that after we deal with the Cofah, you’re joining the witch in a lead cell. I’ve got enough on you at this point to have you hanged tonight.” He stalked off, shoulders bunched into knots.
“With that ability to inspire courage and devotion, it’s shocking he doesn’t command legions of troops.” Ridge was talking to his engineer—who had never stopped tinkering with the engine, gods love the man for his single-mindedness—but Professor Vespa was still standing there. She stared back and forth between Ridge and her father’s departing figure. He thought about apologizing to her for maligning the general but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He merely touched the rim of his fur cap, offered a polite, “Ma’am,” and pulled himself back into the flier.
“You know where the girl is?” Bosmont asked after they had finished ratcheting down that engine the best they could.
“Not really. You care?”
“Not really.” The captain flashed a grin. “But if you had a way of warning her not to come back, you might want to do that. I figure Nax will have a squad of armed men waiting for her if she shows up again.”
“I don’t know how to contact her. I don’t even know if I should if I could.” Ridge removed his cap and rubbed his hands through his hair. No, he would warn her if he could, but he wouldn’t… he couldn’t have anything to do with her after that. A sorceress. He had slept with… By all the gods, living and dead, how had he ended up with a sorceress in his fort? And had she ever cared a whit about him? Or had she been using him to get to what she wanted? Pretending she was helping him find those crystals, but secretly wanting the tunnels dug in a certain direction so she could get that sword? Her sword, he realized belatedly. Or one she wanted to use for some reason, doubtlessly a magical blade to increase her power. Wasn’t that what the stories said? What would she do once she had it?
“Do me a favor, will you, Bosmont?”
“What?”
“Sneak me in a beer every once in a while once I’ve been court martialed, and I’m a prisoner here.”
“Will do, boss.”
12
Sardelle knelt near the bottom of the tram shaft, crouching behind a cage. A few feet away, two soldiers stood to either side of the tunnel, their backs to the wall. The clanks, scrapes, and curses drifting out of a couple of the passages announced more people nearby. There were a lot of men she would have to sneak past to reach the freshly excavated tunnels.
A few ore carts had been left on a rail part way down one of the shafts, each full of dirt to be dumped. She waved her hand, and they rolled into the chamber.
“What the—”
“Who pushed those out here?” one of the soldiers demanded, striding toward the tunnel they had come out of.
As soon as he was even with them, Sardelle shoved the cart over. Dirt spilled out onto his boots. The man stumbled back, cursing, and his comrade ran toward the tunnel entrance.
Sardelle made a hard right, obfuscating her form so they wouldn’t see anything more than rock, albeit a moving rock, if they glanced over. They were more focused on the tunnel and the ore carts. She slipped into a different passage, the one that should lead to the newly opened area where the miners had found the crystals—and the books.
Jaxi did the telepathic equivalent of clearing her throat. Speaking of those books…
Yes?
Did you know some of the annual rosters were in that pile? The ones showing where everyone who does field work is currently stationed?
No.
You should have let that soldier burn the books.
Sardelle forced herself to keep padding down the tunnel, passing through the shadows between each lantern hanging on the wood supports, though she wanted to stop and spend a few minutes cursing and kicking things. They found something with me in it?
Yes.
Did Ridge see it?
Yes.
So he knows who—what—I am now?
He does. Everyone does.
Oh.
Sardelle kept walking though her legs felt numb. What else could she do? All that was left
to her was to get Jaxi and go… where? She had no idea.
Somewhere you won’t be hanged, drowned, or shot.
Yeah? And where’s that? Sardelle remembered the shaman’s offer, but the thought of going off with him made her stomach twist in knots.
I’m not sure yet. We’ll find it.
Damn. Sardelle didn’t want to leave, not by herself anyway. She wanted Ridge to come with her. Or she would have stayed here with him if that abominable general left… and he still wanted her to stay. She could help defend the mountain from enemies. It wasn’t that different from the work she had done before.
Are you sure you want to defend these people? People who would kill you if they got a chance?
Ridge wouldn’t.
When an answer didn’t come, the silence unnerved Sardelle. What did Jaxi know that she didn’t? Sardelle was tempted to reach up through the layers of rock and try to find Ridge up in that courtyard. He would doubtlessly be back at that aircraft. Or up on the wall if the Cofah were attacking.
She jerked at the reminder that the enemy airship was up there. This wasn’t the time to worry about loves lost. She shifted from a walk to a jog, running between the iron tracks in the center of the tunnel. Only when the sounds of voices reached her ears did she slow down again. The bangs and clanks had grown much louder too. She sensed no less than ten people working at the end of the shaft. Extra men must have been funneled into the area after the book discovery.
Any ideas on how to get those men to take a lunch break, Jaxi?
The owl is back.
Er, the shaman’s pet?
He seems to have sent it ahead. It’s harassing the men up top.
While the airship sneaks in unnoticed?
Jaxi didn’t answer for a moment. Sardelle crept farther down the tunnel, until a half-full ore cart came into view, along with the back of the man loading it.
It’s still staying out of range, but that may change. It’s possible the shaman realized you’re not up in the courtyard anymore.
Me?
You’re probably the only reason they didn’t come in and try a more committed attack earlier. The fort’s defenses are paltry. It’s clear that when this place was built, attacks from the air weren’t common yet.
Yes, they need someone to make it out of here to inform the rest of the military of this problem. Sardelle thought there was room enough in that partially filled ore cart for her to hide in, but she needed to convince all of the men to leave for a while.
Methane, Jaxi suggested.
That’s poisonous.
Thus why it would scare them away, at least until their ventilation system could be extended down into these new tunnels.
That might actually work. Is there some down here we could siphon into the tunnel? Of course, I’d have to think about how to shield myself. The real gas would be rather poisonous to me too.
Why not just make them think they smell methane?
Sardelle grimaced at the thought of tinkering in people’s minds. That’s a little ethically ambiguous.
Less painful than rashes.
Sardelle sighed and leaned her head against the earthen wall.
I’ll handle it. You can keep your ethics pure.
Sardelle should have objected, but she didn’t. She didn’t know how much time she had and how long it would take to dig out Jaxi.
She waited for the miner near the cart to move forward around the bend, then trotted up and hopped in. There was a box of dynamite next to the wall. If she couldn’t pry Jaxi out with magic, she supposed explosives were an alternative. Though she might end up burying both of them if she tried that.
She curled into a ball and camouflaged herself to blend in with the rubble beneath her. I’m ready.
Already working on them.
“You smell that?” someone asked.
The scrapes of pickaxes died away. “What?” A few noisy sniffs sounded. “Is that gas?”
“It’s leaking out of somewhere. Back up, get back.”
The thuds of boots approached the cart, then shadows fell across Sardelle as the men raced past. She held her breath. She knew she was camouflaged, but it was hard ignoring the feeling that she was in plain sight as they trotted past. One frowned down at her, opened his mouth as if he might say something, but the man behind him gave him a shove, and he continued on. That one might have a few drops of dragon blood running through his veins if he had sensed something off about her illusion. She hoped that wouldn’t come back to trouble her later.
Just get me, and we’ll worry about it then.
Feeling antsy, are you?
It has been three hundred years.
Everyone cleared out without further trouble, and Sardelle climbed out of the cart. She grabbed a couple of the sticks of dynamite before jogging toward the end of the tunnel. She hoped she could reach Jaxi without using dangerous explosives, but there were limits to what she could do against a mountain.
I’m about two hundred meters from the end of their tunnel.
Sardelle grabbed the last lantern hanging on the wall before the passage grew dark and narrow, fresh earth upturned along the sides, waiting to be shoveled into carts.
You’re almost there.
I’ll need you to lend me some of your power, Jaxi.
That works best when you’re holding me, but you know I’ll try. I don’t want to be burned along with the rest of the artifacts those people pull out of here.
I’m sure you could withstand the heat of their incinerator.
Maybe so, but I don’t relish the sunburn.
A low passage to Sardelle’s right made her pause, one that opened into a room. Ah, this was where they had pulled out the books. She ducked into the space and walked a few paces, holding the lantern aloft. She gave it extra energy, so the flame flared, and she could make out the smashed remains of what had once been bookshelves and carpets. The air smelled stale, and the ceiling had been caved in completely in places, but part of the room had withstood the quaking, thanks to a couple of sturdy marble supports still standing. Sardelle touched one, the stone cool and smooth. The miners had already removed most of the artifacts—odd to think of books and trappings she had passed by mere weeks ago, as far as her brain knew, as artifacts now—but there would be others in the mountain. She wished there were a way to recover them, to preserve them, instead of letting them be taken out to be destroyed, or perhaps carted off as quirky treasures.
She climbed back into the main tunnel before Jaxi could remind her that one particular “artifact” was the priority.
The ceiling lowered further, the walls raw from fresh pickaxe gouges, and Sardelle was crouching by the time she reached the end of the passage. She set down the lantern and touched the wall. She felt Jaxi’s aura through the rock, calling her hand like a beacon. Fifteen degrees to the left and about twenty degrees downward. The miners would have gotten closer, but they never would have chanced across the sword. That was, she reminded herself, what she had wanted.
Here goes, she warned Jaxi.
She burned into the rock with her mind, winnowing a small hole, as if she were a termite gnawing through wood. She would widen it later, but for now, she emulated water, finding the route of least resistance. At first, the way was easy. Some of this was, after all, rock that had already been excavated once, rather than the solid core of the mountain, so much of it was packed rubble rather than solid slab. But she reached a spot where nothing except several meters of granite lay ahead.
The dynamite?
I’d hate to cause a cave-in. Especially when I’m standing here. Give me time—I can burn through. Sardelle’s thighs ached, so she dropped to her knees. How long had she already been at it?
You may not have time.
The miners are coming back?
Not yet, but something is going on up top. People gathering.
All right. Sardelle inserted one of the cylindrical sticks into the hole she had created, then pushed it through with her mind. She had
to widen the hole in places to maneuver it around bends, but she would have had to widen the tunnel anyway to get Jaxi out.
Soon the stick nestled against the granite. She lit the fuse with a thought, then retreated to the wooden supports farther back in the tunnel. As the flame burned closer to the stick, a fit of panic washed over her. She imagined the mountain falling all about her, as it had that horrible day weeks—centuries—before. She almost sprinted all the way back to the tram, but there wasn’t time.
With all that intervening rock, the explosion was muffled. A faint tremor ran beneath Sardelle’s feet, but the massive cave-in she had worried about didn’t come.
Did that even do any good?
Big hole, Jaxi replied. Come back. Keep going.
Sardelle checked her termite-passage. “Hole” wasn’t the precise word, as it was still filled with rock, but now the granite was crumbled, and she could continue burrowing down. She wiped sweat out of her eyes. A dull ache had started in her head—though all she was doing was standing there, the mental work was wearying. She was thinking of telling Jaxi she needed to rest when a fresh wave of energy surged into her. Even separated, a soulblade had power to share if it wanted.
You’re close.
Sardelle came across something metallic sooner than expected, but it wasn’t Jaxi. Right, she had been buried in a training room among a lot of practice blades. Sardelle wagered the soldiers up above wouldn’t be so quick to destroy those types of relics. She weaved past what must have been a rack of swords and shields, and kept going, drawn closer until—
Yes!
Sardelle smiled. You see the light?
No, but I got a draft of fresh air. Make that stale air.
I didn’t know swords were connoisseurs of air.
We’re not. I’ll take anything.
Sardelle wrapped a mental hand around Jaxi’s hilt and began the task of pulling her back through the small tunnel. She was distracted midway by water dribbling out of the hole she had made in the main passage.
Uh, are you wet, Jaxi?