6.0 - Raptor

  Sardelle squeezed Jaxi’s pommel. Yes?

  Instead of speaking, Jaxi shared a series of images, images from Ridge’s thoughts. Sardelle had touched Ridge’s mind before and shared experiences with him, but she had never done it with Jaxi as the intermediary. She longed to be more direct with him, but she accepted what was offered, the memory of him taking off and flying up to confront Morishtomaric. She smiled as his humor and a few of his thoughts came through the link, specifically his distress at having Therrik riding along and being sick in his back seat. But the humor faded as he communicated with the dragon.

  A purple crystal? Sardelle wondered. Is that one of the artifacts locked in the vault?

  You’ll have to ask Phelistoth about that. For all Ridge knows, it might be a glowing paperweight.

  It’s nothing you’re familiar with?

  No. Jaxi paused. I’m fairly certain it’s not a paperweight.

  That’s helpful.

  I thought so.

  Phelistoth lowered his arm, his head drooping. The light from the melting rocks faded, though the sides of the tunnel ahead continued to glow orange.

  “I must rest for a moment,” he announced.

  He usually spoke in their minds instead of aloud. Sardelle wondered how much he was taxing himself, and she thought again of the miners trying to find a way to them.

  Perhaps this would be the time to ask him about dragon paperweights, Jaxi suggested.

  Maybe. But what if that crystal is the thing that caught his interest and made him deviate from the soulblade and toward the vault?

  Then he should definitely know what it is.

  Yes, but would he tell us? What if it’s something that could be a danger to humanity? If the other dragon wants it so badly, and if Phelistoth wants it…

  Then it would be even better to know what it is, Jaxi said dryly. Besides, do you think it would be possible to keep your knowledge from Phelistoth? He seems to surf around in people’s thoughts without worrying about Referatu privacy rules.

  Imagine that. Sardelle decided not to point out that Jaxi had been freely poking into people’s minds since they had woken in this time period and the threat of being punished had disappeared.

  I only poke to help you. And only in surface thoughts. Don’t you want to know when strange, grubby miners want you dead?

  Not necessarily. I concede your point about Phelistoth though.

  “Are you all right?” Tylie rested her hand on Phelistoth’s arm. He was as dust-coated as the rest of them, weariness slumping his shoulders. He appeared more human than he ever had, with all of the frailties and failings that being human entailed.

  An illusion, Sardelle told herself.

  Phelistoth stood straight, drawing his shoulders back. “Perfectly fine,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the two soldiers. They did not appear belligerent in any way—unless one counted the frequent hand gestures—but he gave them a baleful glower before looking back to Tylie.

  Phelistoth? Sardelle asked silently. No need to share information about enemy dragons or glowing crystals with the soldiers. Ridge spoke to Morishtomaric and—

  A growl in her mind interrupted her.

  I’m not pleased about it, either, Sardelle said, assuming the growl reflected his feelings toward the other dragon rather than toward her. But he gained some information. Morishtomaric seeks an ancient artifact, perhaps something stored in the very vault you sought. She was careful to keep any judgment out of her words. He’s given us twenty-four hours to find it, or he’ll do his best to collapse the mountain on top of us, not worrying if he kills everyone in the outpost and the mines in the process.

  Humans mean nothing to him.

  Do they mean anything to you? Sardelle asked curiously, before she could stop herself. She might not like the answer she received.

  Some of them.

  Sardelle hoped that included her and Ridge. After all, when Phelistoth had been visiting Tylie, he had been staying in their house. Eating Ridge’s cheese.

  Let me try to share an image of the artifact with you, she continued. Phelistoth hadn’t said anything to suggest he already knew about it. Sardelle did her best to form the crystalline structure in her mind. Since she’d only seen it secondhand—make that third-hand—she couldn’t promise accuracy.

  It has seven points, not six, Jaxi commented.

  Would you like to do this?

  Yes. I’m a talented artist.

  A skill you honed during your three-hundred-year nap?

  No, I was too busy pining for company to hone skills during that time. It’s a good thing you finally woke up so I could resume my quest toward self-betterment.

  Ha ha. Are you sharing it with him?

  Yes. All seven points.

  Sardelle looked at Tylie, wondering if she was catching any of the conversation. A slight curve to her lips suggested she might have caught the gist through Phelistoth.

  Are you sure you want a soulblade? Sardelle asked her.

  Tylie’s smile widened. I’m used to having another’s thoughts in my head.

  Yes, but are they impertinent thoughts?

  Sometimes. Dragons have an interesting sense of humor.

  Humor? Sardelle looked at Phelistoth. She couldn’t remember him saying anything that would hint at a sense of humor. Do you have to be a dragon to understand it?

  Probably. He is thinking that he might go out of his way to keep Ridge alive, if it were to ensure that the cheese supply continued.

  I see. That’s an example of humor?

  He seemed to think I should be tickled.

  Sardelle scratched her head. Her relationship with Jaxi was starting to seem blessedly simple.

  You’re welcome.

  Phelistoth spoke again. I did grow aware of that artifact, as you call it, when we were digging.

  He looked at Tylie. She touched his arm again and nodded.

  It is also what I sought, he admitted.

  Do you know what it is? Sardelle asked.

  I would not divert from Tylie’s sword for some mystery bauble. Phelistoth narrowed his eyes at her.

  Tylie’s sword. He was assuming that some ancient soulblade would take her on as a new handler. Maybe he thought he could coerce the soul inside.

  Not exactly the most important thing now, Jaxi pointed out. Phelistoth, what is the artifact?

  There are no equivalent human words to name it, but it is a repository of knowledge.

  You risked crushing all of us to get your hands on a library?

  Phelistoth’s eyes narrowed further. His gaze was still directed at Sardelle, as if she was responsible for Jaxi’s impertinence.

  There are other artifacts that may be useful to a dragon, Phelistoth explained, but the repository is one of many that used to exist in my time. It is a library, yes, but an instructor also. It contains the memories of wise dragons from eras past.

  Why do you and Morishtomaric want it? Jaxi asked. For instruction? Are you two seeking self-betterment too?

  Sardelle cleared her throat. Jaxi, would you mind not deliberately goading dragons when you’re attached to my hip?

  I do not know what that tyrant seeks. Phelistoth’s voice had become a dangerous rumble in their heads, a warning for swords—and their handlers. I only want answers. It is difficult to tell from here, but I believe the repository is only about a thousand years old. It could have information about my kind, what happened and where they went. The dangerous tone changed, growing more muted. Almost… sad. I was put into that stasis room long before that. My people were great and many at that time. I do not know… There is much I do not know that I wish to know. I must know.

  I understand. And Sardelle did. For the first time, she saw the similarity between herself and Phelistoth. Until Morishtomaric had shown up, he had been the last of his kind in the world. When she had woken up, she had also learned that she was the last of her kind, the last of the Referatu sorcerers. She understood why Phelistoth might want to research hi
s past, especially when he didn’t know what had happened to the rest of the dragons. For good or ill, her people’s fate hadn’t been a mystery.

  Maybe that’s why he’s so attached to Tylie, Jaxi mused.

  What do you mean?

  He’s lonely. She’s the only friend he had when he came out of that pyramid. Much like Ridge was the only one to be kind to you when you came out of your tomb. You got attached to him rather strongly and quickly, and I don’t think it’s just because he’s pretty.

  He prefers to be called ruggedly handsome.

  We don’t all get what we prefer. Hm. Speaking of your soul snozzle, he wants to run something by you.

  Yes?

  Phelistoth shook his arms and lifted a hand again, going back to work on their escape route. Sardelle strengthened the barrier once more.

  I told him what the artifact was and that Phelistoth knows roughly where it’s located, Jaxi said, but that we’re trying to get out, not trying to get back in, and there’s no way we can do both by the deadline Morishtomaric gave him.

  And?

  He has a plan.

  Should we be concerned?

  Probably. He wants to get us out before the time’s up, clear the tunnels, and tell Morishtomaric where he can find the artifact, so he can come down here and get it himself.

  While we watch? Sardelle suspected Ridge had more in mind than that.

  While Captain Kaika blows up this mountain for the second time in this epoch.

  Ah. Maybe it was silly, but her soul cringed at the idea of destroying everything all over again. What remained of her people’s culture and the tools—now artifacts—that they had left behind might be lost forever. A feeling of helplessness and frustration came over her. All this to trap a dragon? To hopefully crush it, as the rubble had almost crushed Phelistoth? That dragon should never have been released into this world in the first place. What was it with modern Iskandians and their obsession with solving every problem with explosives?

  Shall I tell him you object? Jaxi asked. Tolemek and Cas are up there now, too, and I gather everyone’s concerned about the idea of Cas wielding that sword when you and Tylie are in the same part of the world.

  Sardelle rubbed her eyes and realized they were damp. It wasn’t fair to blame Ridge for thinking of explosives, especially if he was trying to protect her, but she also didn’t think Kasandral would bat an eye at her or Tylie if a dragon was nearby.

  Possibly not, but if you’re closer than the dragon, it might not matter. Kasandral isn’t that bright.

  We need to find those command words.

  Getting out of here should be the first priority. And taking a nap.

  For you or for me? Sardelle was tired, with a throbbing headache pulsing behind her eyes.

  I don’t need naps.

  Must be nice.

  Maybe if we get out of here, you can nap with Ridge. He’s tired and cranky too.

  I’m not cranky.

  If you say so. In the meantime, we might want to hurry Phelistoth along. The sooner we get out of these tunnels, the sooner we can help with plans to defeat Morishtomaric.

  Weariness wasn’t the only emotion making Sardelle cranky. A sense of bleakness smothered her, both because her people’s past might soon be forever out of her reach and because she was skeptical whether that plan could work. Phelistoth seemed to read their thoughts easily enough. Wouldn’t Morishtomaric do the same?

  • • • • •

  A muffled boom came up from the tram shaft, along with a flash of white and the smell of burning sulfur. A few rocks flew out of the opening, the double doors laid back against the earth, but the explosion had taken place more than ten levels below. Most of the damage would be down there.

  Cas was watching from across the courtyard, her back to the stone headquarters building. There was nothing she could do to help. If the dragon returned, she would have a duty to do, but for now, she could only watch as Captain Kaika directed the team planting the explosives.

  General Zirkander seemed to be in a similar position. He stood behind Kaika, alternating between observing the progress and scanning the sky. Thick clouds had gathered up there, rushing twilight in early and threatening rain. Fortunately, no dragons were darkening the sky, not at the moment. Colonel Therrik would probably be the first one to see one if it did show up. He was stalking the ramparts, alternating between barking orders at soldiers working on repairs and grabbing tools to help. Cas hadn’t seen Tolemek for the last hour. He had grabbed his bag, said something about making an acid delivery mechanism, and disappeared into the machine shop. Cas wished there was a way she could help someone. She had little experience in building things, or in blowing them up.

  Besides, Tolemek had not asked for help. He hadn’t said much since that morning, and she worried she had hurt him with her reaction to being touched. That frustrated her beyond words. They had just been getting closer again, and against her own wishes, she had pushed him away.

  Zirkander finished a conversation with Kaika and headed toward the headquarters building. His expression had been bleak since Cas had landed, with none of his usual humor in his eyes. Understandable, with Sardelle trapped down there. She’d also heard that a number of miners and soldiers were believed dead.

  He was heading for the doorway, but he paused when he saw her. His gaze flicked to the wall next to her, where Kasandral’s box leaned. Cas hated toting it around, but it was too valuable to leave in the flier, especially since seven-eighths of the population of this outpost were criminals.

  Zirkander met her eyes, and unexpected guilt stung her as her nightmare returned to her thoughts. He hadn’t been in it, but Sardelle was another matter. An urge to apologize to him came over her, for killing his love in her dream. It was silly, but a part of her was terrified that her dream would turn out to be a prophecy.

  “You doing all right, Ahn?” Zirkander asked.

  “Yes, sir.” She tried to wipe her emotions from her face. She wasn’t going to talk to her commanding officer about dreams. Besides, she didn’t want to worry him further when he already had so many problems.

  “How’s your buddy?” Zirkander nodded toward the box.

  Buddy. Right. “Fine, sir.”

  “Fine? I heard you fought some Cofah, threw the sword out of your flier, and tried to lose it in a valley.”

  “That’s not exactly how it went.” Cas did not mention her fantasy of chucking the blade over the side of the airship to be lost in a forgotten canyon.

  “Well, if it gets to be too much, Therrik has expressed an interest in wielding it against the dragon.”

  Cas looked toward the outpost walls. Not five minutes ago, Therrik had been bellowing at a soldier, telling him to go down and dig dirt if he couldn’t hammer a nail without bending it. Cas shuddered as she imagined him taking the blade. He would enjoy wielding it far too much.

  “I can handle it, sir.”

  “Good. I don’t want to take him up in my flier again. He gets airsick. Who’s ever heard of a mighty swordsman who gets airsick?”

  Cas remembered thoughts she’d had, that the sword might make her kill Zirkander if she flew with him, and another wave of distress washed over her. The thought didn’t make any sense, because so far, Kasandral had only shown interest in killing those possessing dragon blood, but she couldn’t keep the emotion from welling up inside of her.

  “Sir,” she said, not even sure why she said it, but her voice cracked, betraying her emotions.

  Zirkander frowned and walked over. He leaned against the wall beside her, his shoulder to hers. Technically, it was her shoulder to his arm, since he had a foot on her, but she barely noticed. She was busy struggling to get ahold of herself. She was an officer, not some weepy-eyed girl in a play at Saggaki’s Theater on Vail Street.

  “Tell me,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing, sir. I’m just worried. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you come over.”

  “You didn’t make me,
Cas,” he said dryly. “Look, these legs work entirely independently of your wishes.”

  She might have kept her mouth shut and shook away the notion that she needed to tell him anything, but she made the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. Once again, she experienced that fear that her dream would become a reality, that she would take from him the woman he loved. All of the guilt she still felt over Apex filled her at the thought of hurting him. She loved Tolemek, as a woman loved a man, but she loved Zirkander, too, as a mentor and a friend. Even if lieutenants weren’t supposed to be friends with generals, she considered him one.

  “I dreamed I killed Sardelle,” she whispered, the confession tumbling out before she could stop it. “That the sword tricked me, made me think it was the enemy sorceress, but it was Sardelle. I know it’s just a dream, and it’s stupid to worry about a dream, but with Kasandral, it’s more than that. I already tried to kill her once. I—” Her voice broke, her throat too tight to get more words through it. She turned away from Zirkander, looking toward the courtyard but not seeing it. Not seeing anything.

  He nudged her with his elbow. “She’s under about fifty million tons of rock right now. You’ll have a tough time fulfilling that dream.”

  His tone was light, as it so often was. She knew that didn’t mean he didn’t worry, and she wished she hadn’t confessed. Now, he would have more reason to worry, about her and the sword. What if he thought she wasn’t capable of wielding it—or couldn’t be trusted to wield it—so he gave it to Therrik? She should have been horrified by that thought, but a secret relief came with it instead. If Therrik had it, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.

  Her relief was short-lived. If Therrik had it, she would have to worry about him killing Sardelle. There would be nothing to hold him back. He would be gleeful for the excuse to attack her, and she doubted he would feel any remorse at all for taking Zirkander’s love from him. The bastard might even appreciate getting the chance to hurt him.

  “Tolemek said he’s working on a dragon-slaying weapon,” Zirkander said. “Maybe you won’t have to take the sword out of its box again.”

  Cas nodded. “I know he is, and yes, I’m very much hoping that is the case.” She used her thoughts of Therrik as a way to steel herself, to remind herself that she had to do this. And Zirkander was right. At the moment, Sardelle was inaccessible. Cas was worrying about nothing. The dragon would be here tomorrow, and one way or another, she would be able to put the sword away at the end of the day. “If Tolemek doesn’t come up with something in time, are you still going to fly with me, sir? To take me up to fight the dragon?”