Cas held her breath, afraid the sorceress would see it and use some magic to levitate it onto the Cofah ship. But she was either too distracted to do anything, or she didn’t want anything to do with the magic-hating blade. It tumbled through the air until it landed in a meadow. The green glow winked out. Cas did not know if it had been damaged, but they could get it later. Her only worry had been that she would miss or that it would fall onto the ship and become a gift for the Cofah.
“Bombing the stuffing out of them,” Kaika said, and Cas glanced in her direction in time to see two small packages dropping toward the location where Kasandral had struck. A match flared as Kaika lit another one.
Good. Cas hadn’t expected the entire shield to go down, and she couldn’t be positive that was what had happened, but if it had, they needed to act quickly. It probably wouldn’t take long for the sorceress to rebuild her barrier.
The first bomb exploded a few meters from the spot where Kasandral had struck. This time, more than a blur came into view. The dark brown of a Cofah airship balloon appeared in the air, and even more delightful, the explosion tore a giant hole into it. Kaika’s second bomb struck ten meters farther along the envelope, tearing another massive hole in the fabric. Even better, the invisibility field disappeared, and the entire ship grew visible. From up above, Cas couldn’t see the deck or the crew, but she heard alarmed shouts.
She closed the box between her knees and took up her rifle again.
“Sir,” she said, “now would be the time to attack.”
“You’re as crazy as your C.O.,” Ort growled, apparently forgetting she wasn’t Zirkander’s officer anymore. Regardless, it didn’t sound like a compliment. Nonetheless, the nose of their flier dipped, and they dove.
The deck came into view, and Cas started firing, her eyes locking onto a target immediately. Even as she shot, she used her peripheral vision to look for more targets, hoping to find the sorceress. A bullet probably wouldn’t take her down, but maybe she would be discombobulated, and Cas would get lucky.
Ort raced toward the deck, flying under the balloon to strafe the crew. Return fire came, and artillery weapons swung toward them. The shaven-headed Cofah soldiers kept their equanimity, and bullets cut through the wings of Ort’s flier. Cas kept firing, though she would have created more of a zigzagging path if she had been at the stick. Then she saw the sorceress, the long-haired woman holding a glowing sword aloft, its light gleaming off the golden armor she wore. No wonder Ort was flying straight. He was going straight toward her, his intent clear.
Cas kept firing, knowing they might only get one chance at this. She couldn’t shoot at the sorceress from her position, not without risking hitting Ort or their own propeller, but she picked out men on the deck who looked like they might be officers.
The sorceress’s eyes narrowed as they approached, and she flung up a hand without fear.
“Dodge!” Cas yelled, certain what would come next. From this close, they would never be able to get out of the way in time.
Ort’s bullets clipped the deck at the woman’s boots, and Cas thought he might not listen, that he wouldn’t turn away, but he pulled them to the side. The fireball leaped from the sorceress’s fingers. Ort had turned soon enough to evade it, but her sword added its own attack. A streak of lightning flew from the blade and branched to follow them. It struck the side of the flier, right behind Cas’s seat. She should have ducked—a sane woman would have—but she fired, trying to strike the woman in the chest.
Her aim felt true, but the sword pulsed, and a tiny flame burst to life in front of the sorceress’s chest. Her bullet, Cas realized. Incinerated.
More rifles fired, and holes pierced the tail of their flier. Cas had no idea where Pimples and Kaika were, but she and Ort were taking the brunt of the Cofah attack. As Ort sped away from the airship, flames licked the side of the flier where the lightning had struck.
Reluctantly, Cas jammed her rifle between her legs along with the box and twisted in her seat. She unfastened the top half of her harness and, with nothing else to use, yanked her uniform jacket over her head. She leaned back and batted at the flames, afraid they would spread if they weren’t put out.
As she beat at the fire, she saw the airship receding behind them. The deck was at an odd tilt, and flames leaped from one side of the balloon. Cas hoped that the sorceress couldn’t put those out. She spotted Pimples’ flier near the rear of the craft. Kaika drew back her arm and hurled another explosive. This one headed toward an empty area on the deck, on the opposite end from where Cas and Ort had battled the sorceress. Someone had run up to the woman, but she was waving him away. She looked like she wanted to hurl more fireballs.
“Did you get it?” Pimples asked.
“Boiler and furnace should be right under there,” Kaika said. “We’ll see. We’ll see…”
The explosion flashed, the boom ringing out. It ripped another hole in the envelope, this time from below, but even better, wood from the deck and the side of the ship splintered and flew in all directions. A moment later, a second boom rang out. The sky lit up in an orange ball as Pimples and Kaika streaked away from the airship. At the front, men and women toppled to the deck, even the sorceress.
“Was that the boiler?” General Ort asked.
“I think so, sir.” Cas hefted her rifle again. “Will you take us back in? While they’re distracted?”
“Cool your blood lust, Ahn. That craft isn’t going anywhere except into the mountainside. In the meantime, we’re finding the priceless sword you so casually hurled to the earth.”
Hurled? Cas’s gamble had allowed them to take down the airship. She frowned at the back of Ort’s head as he took them downward, toward the dark valley below. Maybe this was why General Zirkander always butted heads with Ort, a lack of appreciation for calculated risks that paid off.
“Surely, attacking the sorceress while she’s distracted and maybe wounded should be the priority, sir.”
Ort leveled a cool glare over his shoulder. “That sword is our only weapon to use against the dragon.”
“Can we go back in?” Pimples asked. “Kaika has two more bombs.”
“Go on. Just don’t get hit by a fireball. Fliers are expensive.”
“Your concern for our craft is noted, sir,” Kaika yelled, managing to sound dry even from the back seat.
“We’ll clean up whatever is left,” Major Cildark said. “We’re close enough to fire now.”
Ort might have been right, that there was no need to finish off the airship. Above them, the sky was alight with flame, and the craft was descending toward a copse of trees at the north end of the valley. Down in the grass, Kasandral had lost its glow. Tall stalks of grass waved in the breeze. She grimaced. It might be harder than she realized to find the blade in all that.
“Did you see exactly where it hit?” Ort asked.
“Not… exactly.” She studied the mountainside and the terrain of the valley, wishing she had taken note of nearby landmarks when the sword had struck. She had been too worried about the sorceress and bringing down the airship.
Ort might have snapped something sarcastic, but all he said was, “Let me know if you see it. I’ve heard your vision is legendary, so I’m relying on you.”
Cas leaned over the edge, deciding not to point out that it wasn’t her vision that was good but her aim. And aim wasn’t terribly helpful if a person couldn’t see the target.
The grass did not part for her eyes, but she did feel an uncomfortable itch along her spine, and the hairs on her arms seemed to rise. A strange sensation called to her from across the valley. Was that Kasandral?
Trusting her instincts—or the damned blade’s pull on her—Cas said, “Two o’clock, sir. I think it might be over by those stumps.”
Without questioning her, Ort veered in that direction. He activated the thrusters before they reached the stumps. “I think this is going to be an on-foot quest.”
“Yes, sir.” Cas waited for the craft
to stop, then hopped out. As she followed the strange pull she felt, she looked toward the sky again. She didn’t see the other flier, but she was in time to watch the Cofah airship crash, flames leaping from the half-burned balloon and smoke pouring from the destroyed rear of the craft.
The pull of the sword led her inevitably to it, and she was bending down to pluck it out of the grass before she saw it. As soon as her hand clasped around the hilt, a surge of alien feelings charged through her veins. Irritation at having been dropped, a fierce desire to slay that sorceress, and a craving for blood.
Shuddering, Cas pulled her sleeve down, so her skin wouldn’t be in direct contact with the sword. She hurried back to the flier and was glad when she heard General Ort speaking on the crystal, if only for a distraction. Even if she agreed with the desire to end the troublesome sorceress’s life, she couldn’t wait to lock Kasandral back in its box.
“…need help,” came a voice over the crystal. That wasn’t Pimples, and it wasn’t Major Cildark, either. Cas didn’t recognize the speaker.
Ort was beckoning to her as he listened. “Hurry, Ahn. More trouble.” He pointed toward the sky behind her.
As she ran, nearly tripping in holes hidden by the tall grass, she stared back at flames visible above the trees. They weren’t coming from the already-crashed Cofah ship. Their ship was on fire.
Chapter 7
Sardelle woke to the smell of lava and the soft glow of an orange beam eating into boulders. Her head felt stuffy, and she did not know if it was because the enclosed cave was low on breathable air or because the effort of defending everyone from the dragon had bruised her brain.
Your brain is fine. I’m less certain about the air, but I’m not far from the exit. Less than an hour. Rocks shifted, clunked, and thudded into new places. Jaxi pulsed in irritation. Maybe two hours.
We appreciate your efforts.
Now I remember why I never tried to burn my way out from under Galmok Mountain.
I’m surprised you didn’t try. You certainly had the time. Sardelle noticed she wasn’t lying entirely on the uneven and very hard rock floor as she had been when she first dozed off. Earlier, Ridge and Duck had been coercing Jaxi into helping them get the fliers turned around, so they would be ready to take off as soon they could escape. At some point, he had settled on the ground beside her. She didn’t remember moving, but she was leaning against his chest and using his shoulder as a pillow. He had wrapped an arm around her, and she much preferred that cushion to the rock. She might have snuggled closer for a kiss, since she sensed that he wasn’t sleeping, but Tylie had passed out on her other side and was using her for a pillow. Only Duck remained on his own, whittling a clump of wood while he sat in the cockpit of his flier.
What would I have done once I got out? Jaxi asked. Lain on the mountainside and rusted in the elements until some shepherd picked me up and hung me above the door in his yurt for decoration? Besides, I did try. The rock just kept collapsing into whatever hole I made. It was rubble that buried me, not a solid slab of stone.
Well, I would have been terribly disappointed if I’d woken up and you weren’t there.
That’s the real reason I didn’t escape on my own. I was thinking of your needs.
Of course you were.
Another boulder shifted, and pebbles tinkled to the ground. Ridge stirred at Sardelle’s side.
Jaxi said another hour or two and we’ll be out, she told him silently, not wanting to wake Tylie.
Tylie hadn’t been able to sleep earlier. While Sardelle had been healing her cuts, she had seemed more agitated than the wounds had explained, so it was good that she had finally found some rest. Her distress might be linked to Phelistoth’s pain, and Sardelle had no idea how to heal that. She had to trust that the dragon would fix his own wounds and put an end to the problem. She shuddered to think how Tylie might react, however, if Phelistoth died.
No hurry, Ridge thought back, leaning his chin on her head. This is cozy.
She smiled at the words, even if they weren’t entirely sincere. I thought you knew better than to lie to me. Sitting in here, not knowing if the outpost has been attacked, is eating at you like a flesh-eating bacteria. And you have a pointy rock jabbing into your left cheek.
Maybe I like having pointy things jabbing me in my butt, Miss Smarty Sorceress.
She arched her eyebrows. That begs for a joke about sexual preferences and whether it was truly an accident that you ended up under Colonel Therrik’s bed.
True, but you’re too polite and well socialized to make it, so I’m safe. Now that he knew she was awake, he squirmed a bit, trying to find a better position.
I could make such a joke, Jaxi said.
Aren’t you too busy over there? Ridge asked. I can feel your heat from here.
That’s because I’m magnificently radiant. Like a star.
Sardelle thought Ridge might get up and stretch his legs—and rub his butt—but he wrapped his other arm around her and snuggled closer.
You can go back to sleep if you want, he thought. Nothing more exciting than pointy rocks here. And Tylie muttering in her sleep. You think she’ll be all right?
Probably when Phelistoth heals himself and she knows he’s safe.
Ridge made a sour face—she didn’t have to see it to know it was there.
Sardelle?
She hesitated, already sensing the gist of his question. She’d been expecting it, especially since Phelistoth had started walking around in human form when he visited them, and she wasn’t sure how to answer it. The truth was, she didn’t know the answer to it. On the surface, Tylie was as open and honest as a spring flower, but since Sardelle couldn’t get a sense of her thoughts, only of what she displayed on the outside, she did not know anything about her for certain.
You’re about to ask what exactly is going on between them, Sardelle thought.
Yeah. And if I should be threatening to beat him up if he has any… intentions toward her. Because she seems way too young for that, even if it were with a kid her age. I know she’s seventeen, but she acts like she’s about ten.
I really don’t know. I’m sorry I don’t, because it’s been a concern of mine, too, but as I’ve told you before, dragons were long gone in my era. All we have are historical texts. And fictionalized accountings. Sardelle decided not to point out that pairings had to have happened fairly often back then, given all the sorcerers that had been roaming around in the old days. She also didn’t mention that the dragons seemed to find something appealing in Tylie’s mind or talents. She would look up Receivers while they were at the outpost too. Another item for the research list.
Since Ridge was still frowning down at her, she knew she would have to give him something more—or maybe distract him.
Would you truly try to beat up a dragon that came courting? I don’t think that would go well.
He snorted. No, I don’t think so, either. But if Tolemek didn’t, I would.
Maybe if the two of you worked together, you could give him a black… toenail.
Ha ha.
She brushed his jaw with her fingers. Have I mentioned that it’s sweet that you want to protect her?
How can you not want to protect someone who wanders around looking lost all the time?
She’s probably conversing with Phelistoth when she looks like that.
Is that supposed to be comforting?
No, and she shouldn’t have mentioned it. Hadn’t her goal been distracting him? Have you ever given thought to having children, Ridge? I know your mother harps on you about it, and that probably makes you not want to do it, but I think you’d be a good father. And maybe she had Fern Zirkander to blame, but she had started to wonder herself what it would be like to be a mother.
Seven gods, why?
That wasn’t quite the response she’d expected, and she felt stung, until she realized what he was questioning. Not the act itself but her suggestion that he’d be good at it. You don’t think you could help raise litt
le baby Zirkanders?
Not well.
Why not?
I’d be a horrible role model.
The statement surprised her, and she thought it might be false modesty, but he honestly seemed to believe that. That national hero of Iskandia? A bad role model?
He slumped lower against the rock wall and gazed toward Jaxi. Sardelle, do you know that I’ve often been relieved that I met you—that you met me—this year? And not when I was younger? I’m still not entirely sure why you don’t think I’m a reckless twit, but I assure you that I was much more of one when I was in my twenties. You never would have put up with Young Ridge.
Curious, Sardelle made an encouraging noise. He’d told her about many of the air battles he’d been engaged in over the years, and he shared humorous stories about his squadron mates to entertain her, but he hadn’t spoken much of his own history, aside from a few childhood anecdotes.
It’s a miracle I didn’t get myself killed. I got myself pegged with an embarrassing nickname after my first battle, and I spent the next five years doing my damnedest to prove I was better than that. Add to that that I came from a poor family, and most of the officers were still drawn out of the nobility back then, and I felt I had a lot to prove. So I was reckless, sometimes to the detriment of my teammates, but I got what I wanted, what I thought I wanted, the attention of the reporters and a degree of fame. Though back then, I suppose it was more notoriety than fame. There were times I should have been kicked out of the service, but I was taking down Cofah airships and making pirates fear harassing our ships and coastlines. They needed me, and I knew it. Most of my swagger was about flying, but I was inordinately pleased that the attention from the newspapers turned me into someone that women wanted to sleep with too. And that happened. A lot. He shifted, glancing uncomfortably at her. It wouldn’t have taken telepathy to sense his embarrassment, at least when relaying these things to her. I was careful not to create any baby Zirkanders, as you call them, but you would have thought I was an idiot. I was an idiot. I never even tried to have a grownup relationship until I was in my thirties, and then I found I was lousy at it. I thought I was so amazing, and the girl was so lucky to be with me. That wasn’t a real solid place to start from.