6.0 - Raptor

  “Reporting for dragon-slaying duty, Sire,” she said.

  “I thought I was picking my own team,” Ridge said dryly.

  Kaika winked at him. “We knew you’d want me.”

  Ridge resisted the urge to make a joke, especially since Angulus’s eyes narrowed slightly as he followed that wink. Ridge got that look from boyfriends and husbands often, so he recognized it well, though he wouldn’t have expected Angulus to feel threatened by Ridge’s reputation. Kings were greater prizes than pilots. Any girl would say so.

  “Loon’s Lake isn’t far from your facility,” Sardelle said. “Your former facility.”

  Angulus nodded, shifting his attention to her. “Yes, the dragon has been sighted near there a couple of times. I’m wondering if he’s making plans to free the rest of the dragons in that cavern. I’ve got people watching the mountain right now. You were there when I had Kaika set off those controlled explosives to bury the entrances, and we’ve since brought down the old research facility, too, in an attempt to make that cavern inaccessible, or at least not easily accessible. I didn’t want to try to destroy the statues outright, not until you’d finished your research. If some of them could be talked into alliances with Iskandia, it might be worth the risk of dealing with criminals. By all accounts, dragons are more deadly than an armored dirigible filled with soldiers and guns.”

  “Very likely,” Sardelle said neutrally. She had told Ridge she didn’t think any of the dragons should be trusted or set free, but he didn’t know if she had expressed that sentiment to Angulus.

  He knows, Jaxi said. But he’s worried about the empire, right now, and is willing to take risks to gain big advantages. Apparently, he was recently trying to negotiate a peace treaty with the emperor when the Cofah army blew up the dirigible carrying the envoy he’d sent.

  Are you supposed to be cavorting in his thoughts and sharing them with me?

  Yes.

  Ridge snorted, drawing a couple of glances. He needed to learn not to respond aloud to Jaxi. “A couple of those towns are within seventy-five miles of the Magroth crystal mines too.” He pointed at spots farther north.

  “I noticed that,” Angulus said, “but my understanding is that the crystals wouldn’t be of any interest to a dragon, that he could make anything magical that a human sorcerer could have made.”

  “Technically, we made things that dragons never did, more because they didn’t have a need to, rather than because they didn’t have the power to,” Sardelle said. “You’re right, though, in that our lamps wouldn’t be of any interest. There are other tools up there, though, and books full of information.” She glanced at Ridge. “Some of those were taken out in the time I was there.”

  “So it’s possible something there might interest a dragon?” Angulus asked.

  “Possible. I’d have to think about what that might be, and of course, I wasn’t aware of all of the contents of the vaults and libraries, as I didn’t have a full-time teaching or government position there. Regardless, I agree that it seems likely that he might want his brethren back, to create a full squadron of dragons that would answer to him.”

  A full squadron of dragons. Ridge hadn’t even seen the destructive capability of one firsthand yet, but he shuddered at the idea of encountering such an entity in the skies. The sorceress had incinerated fliers with a wave of her hand, and she was just a human.

  Technically, she’s one-eighth dragon, Jaxi said. She claimed to be the great granddaughter of one. Of course, she could have been lying.

  You didn’t cavort in her thoughts to check?

  You can’t cavort with people who know how to shield their minds from intrusion. She could be a hermaphrodite with scales instead of body hair, and I’d never be able to pry the secret from her.

  I’d like to think I’d be able to detect that secret.

  “Perhaps…” Sardelle looked at Tylie, to whom Ridge hadn’t been paying any attention—she was kneeling in a corner and stroking the strings on a lute resting against the wall. “If we could get permission, Sire, we’d thought to return to the crystal mines to try and find a soulblade for Tylie.”

  Angulus frowned. “Can’t that wait?”

  “It would be a second weapon that would be useful in an attack against a dragon, and it would be useful for Tylie to have another Iskandian mentor.” She raised her eyebrows at Angulus.

  Angulus nodded slightly, apparently understanding why she gave that word emphasis.

  “Would Tylie fight against the dragon though?” he asked. “I don’t like the idea of sending a girl into battle.”

  “Girls can do a lot of damage in battle.” Kaika had been standing quietly by the door, but she set her bag on the floor and ambled over to a chair and flopped down.

  “Mature women can, I’ll agree.”

  “I don’t know that they have to be that mature,” Kaika said, smirking.

  Tylie was currently peering into the hollow behind the lute strings, seemingly unaware that everyone in the room was looking at her. She smiled brightly over her shoulder at Ridge. “There are spider eggs in here.”

  “Pardon?” Angulus asked.

  “You might want to ask the king before you release the ladybug into his lute,” Ridge said.

  Angulus curled a lip, more at the thought of an infestation in his instrument than because of strong feelings about ladybugs, Ridge guessed.

  “May I?” Tylie dipped into her pocket, then spread her hand, palm up. The ladybug hadn’t escaped on the walk over—or maybe it hadn’t wanted to escape. It strutted around on her palm.

  “I suppose,” Angulus said, then grabbed a pen and scribbled on a notepad on the desk. “I’m going to have a talk with the cleaning staff about nooks and crannies.”

  After the ladybug had been set on the rim of the lute, Tylie faced everyone. She curtsied for the king and smiled shyly at him. “I can fight if it’s to protect Phel.”

  “Phel?”

  “Phelistoth, Sire,” Ridge said. “The silver dragon.”

  “I see.” Angulus rubbed his jaw. “Very well. Maybe I’ll send you two over to get the sword, while—”

  Another knock sounded at the door.

  “Send her in,” Angulus said without waiting for an announcement. “We’ve been expecting her.”

  We? Ridge wasn’t expecting anyone, so he turned curiously toward the door.

  His jaw dropped when Caslin Ahn walked in.

  Chapter 3

  When Cas slipped past her escort and into the king’s office, she tensed as soon as she saw the collection of people waiting for her. Seeing General Zirkander flooded her with guilt, and at the same time, wariness crept in, causing her shoulders to bunch. Zirkander had tried hard not to let her resign, and her first thought was that this was some scheme to get her to come back. A part of her wanted to come back—she missed her job and her comrades more than she’d ever thought she would—but she couldn’t. Not after what she’d done. Couldn’t he understand that?

  As soon as the king set down a map and turned to face her, she realized her thought had likely been wrong—and self-absorbed. Whatever was going on here, with Tylie, Sardelle, Zirkander, General Ort, Captain Kaika, and the king in the room, it had to be about more than her old job. Besides, she doubted Zirkander could have talked King Angulus into intervening in regard to her resignation.

  “Tolie!” Tylie blurted and scampered across the room.

  Cas stepped aside, lest she be bowled over. Tylie was only a few inches taller than she and lacked Tolemek’s sturdy, muscled build, but she wore a determined smile as she flung herself into her brother’s arms.

  Tolemek returned the hug, but he wore a stern expression as he gazed around the room, a what-is-going-on-and-why-was-my-little-sister-involved expression.

  “Ms. Ahn,” the king said, ignoring Tolemek’s sternness and the family reunion. His gaze locked onto Cas.

  Ms. Ahn. That sounded strange after being Lieutenant Ahn for almost two years. But she did not h
ave time to lament the loss, as she was soon busy worrying that she was in trouble. Had he decided to punish her for Apex’s death? Or her role in his wife’s death? Or something else? Even though she hadn’t gone, she had been invited to the dinner and awards ceremony for those pilots who had been pivotal in destroying the flying Cofah fortress, so she had assumed her sins had been forgiven—even if they shouldn’t have been. Maybe something had changed.

  “Yes, Sire?” Since she wasn’t in uniform, she genuflected, the movement awkward since she’d rarely been in the king’s company and had the opportunity to practice it.

  “We have a dragon problem.”

  Startled, Cas spun toward Tolemek. Phelistoth?

  “She’s not in the loop anymore, Sire,” Zirkander said. “She doesn’t know about the new one.”

  A new dragon? How had they gone from dragons being extinct a couple of months ago to having two of them in the world?

  “Oh? Tolemek knows.” Angulus looked toward Tolemek, frowning slightly.

  “We haven’t… spoken of it, Sire,” Tolemek said. “I was given to understand the dragons were as secret as other matters.”

  Cas caught that hesitation. They hadn’t spoken of it—or anything—because she had been avoiding him. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her for that. Tolemek did not deserve to be avoided, not without an explanation, but she was so poor at articulating her feelings. She just felt so uncomfortable around him now—around all of them. She couldn’t see them without thinking of her old life and of Apex—of the horrified and pained expression on his face as she had cut into him with that vile sword. She’d been crying out with rage inside, unable to control her own body, but she remembered everything she’d seen and done. And heard. His scream had been almost as bad as the horror of her betrayal in his eyes.

  “Cofah agents infiltrated a secret research facility at the southern end of the Ice Blades,” Angulus explained. “When we went out to hunt for them, we found a nearby ancient cavern with ten dragon statues in it. Or so they first appeared. One of the statues had been half melted away, revealing the golden scales of a real dragon. We believe the same sorceress that we faced in the flying fortress found them and released this one partway in order to speak to it and try to recruit it to her cause—taking over Iskandia for the empire and for herself.” Angulus made a face, looking like he wanted to spit. “The evidence pointed to that, and the dragon corroborated that story, but the dragon also proved himself a liar in communicating with me.”

  With him? Had the king gone out there personally? That seemed insanely dangerous, especially if that sorceress had been there. Nobody else in the room seemed surprised by this information. They’d all known, she realized. Maybe some of them had even been there.

  Even though her resignation had been her choice, she felt stung that everyone knew about this except for her.

  “The dragon convinced me to release him,” King Angulus said. “He promised to help Kaika and me escape from the cavern. Foolishly, I believed him.”

  “Sire, he had a powerful mind,” Kaika said. “I was sympathetic to him, too, and that’s not normal for me. Not when dealing with giant monsters with fangs bigger and sharper than swords.”

  From the way Angulus’s lips thinned and he shook his head, he didn’t forgive himself, powerful mind notwithstanding. Cas understood all too well how hard it was to forgive oneself when one had committed an unforgivable error.

  “Regardless of the circumstances,” Angulus said, “the dragon is free now, and it’s wreaking havoc in rural areas. It’s been close to the capital as well.” He extended a hand toward Zirkander.

  “Apparently, it feels particularly venomous toward furnishings,” Zirkander said, earning a flat look from Angulus.

  “He attacked the silver dragon you helped free,” Angulus said, “a dragon we’re hoping might be an ally to Iskandia one day.” He glanced at Tylie, being more honest with her in the room than Cas would have expected. “At the least, Phelistoth hasn’t proven himself an enemy, and we hope that will continue.”

  “He doesn’t attack people,” Tylie said. She had released Tolemek from the hug, but still clasped his hand. “He’s a scholar. He’s interested in finding out what happened to his kind, that’s all.” A troubled line creased her brow. “He doesn’t want to fight for anyone.”

  Angulus spread his hand in an accepting gesture, though he had to secretly be hoping for some dragon allies. That could tip the scales against the empire. Or at least cause the empire to think twice about attacking Iskandia, and as far as Cas knew, that was all her country wanted, to be left alone.

  “We’re planning a dragon hunt,” Angulus told Cas. “General Zirkander and General Ort will spearhead it.”

  General Ort had not said anything since Cas had arrived. He stood to one side of the room, hands clasped behind his back in a crisp parade-rest stance. Cas hadn’t spoken to the man very often, but thought he would be a good commander. But why was the king telling her about this, when she wasn’t on the army’s payroll anymore? Did he want her to go? That was all she could imagine, but why? She doubted bullets would harm a dragon. They hadn’t even done anything in fights against human magic users.

  Cas rocked back on her heels with the realization of what the king must be thinking—and why he had called her here. Colonel Therrik had been reassigned to the crystal mines, so he wasn’t around to consult. Too bad. He would be much more knowledgeable when it came to Kasandral, the dragon-slaying sword. The sword that was happy to slay anyone, dragon or sorcerer or not.

  “I intend to get the dragon sword out of its locked vault,” Angulus said.

  For the first time, the other people in the room stirred. Sardelle didn’t look surprised, but she was the only one. Zirkander, Ort, and Kaika all looked at Cas. Heat flushed her cheeks, and she wanted to crawl into the corner and disappear. Zirkander looked away quickly, perhaps not wanting to remind her of her bad memories. Too late.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sire,” Cas whispered. “It can’t be trusted. Its wielder can’t be trusted, either, not when Kasandral is in hand.”

  “I’m aware of the details of Apex’s death,” Angulus said.

  Even though hearing Apex’s name came as a stab to the heart, Cas appreciated the king’s bluntness versus the way Tolemek and Zirkander talked around it. They were trying to spare her feelings, and she understood that, but it didn’t help.

  “That’s why I’ve brought you here,” Angulus said. “I want to stack the odds in our favor. We’ll take explosives, at least one soulblade, and fliers and an airship so we can reach the dragon, but if I understand my history, that sword was designed to kill dragons.” He looked toward Sardelle, who nodded once. “It’s the ideal weapon to use, and I’ve also been told that if it’s kept in that box, a dragon or sorceress shouldn’t be able to sense it.” Another nod from Sardelle. “If Zirkander flies up to meet the dragon and takes a wielder with him, someone who would keep the sword boxed until the last moment, perhaps that person could get close enough to strike a mortal blow.”

  “Oh, so that’s my part in this,” Zirkander said. “You don’t want a mission co-commander, you want a sacrifice to the dragon gods. And the dragon.”

  Cas ignored him—as did Angulus. Zirkander might grouse, but he would also complain if someone else was given the suicidal task. Cas was more concerned about this talk of an unnamed wielder, especially since Angulus was looking steadily at her. Seven gods, he couldn’t be thinking of asking her to do this, could he? Out of some notion that she had experience with the blade and was thus the logical choice? Her experience had been tragic. She should be the last choice for anything that dealt with it.

  “I need to choose someone to wield the sword,” Angulus said. “It would help if you could give me any information that might be pertinent. Are your thoughts your own when you hold it? At least most of the time? Could someone who had been trained as a sorceress wield it, or would it reject that?”

  ?
??I can answer that, Sire,” Sardelle said. “Kasandral zapped me when I touched the scabbard. I’m not sure what would happen if I tried to grab the hilt, but I’d like to keep both hands, so I would decline the opportunity. Kasandral hates magic, and he hates those who wield it.”

  “That’s unfortunate, because I thought someone who’d had the mental training that sorceresses get might be better at deflecting its manipulation attempts.”

  “The manipulation is a danger,” Sardelle said, “but it wasn’t until the queen uttered a certain phrase that Cas lost control. I think Kasandral was designed to have the ability to take over, so that even someone without sword skills could be effective at wielding him.”

  “When it’s in control,” Cas said, refusing to give the sword a gender, “you’re aware of what it’s doing. You just can’t stop it. You’re locked up, a prisoner in your own body. The rest of the time, it affects you more subtly. Such as, you start feeling irritated at your friends, and you don’t know why. Your friends who have dragon blood in their veins, that is.”

  Tolemek rested a hand on her shoulder. A part of her wanted to reject the support—the sympathy that it included—but a part of her was glad for it. She hadn’t ever wanted to talk about this again. As much as she wanted to do nothing more than clinically state the facts, the facts were tangled up with memories and emotions.

  “Does anyone recall the words that Nia—the queen—spoke?” Angulus asked.

  Cas closed her eyes, trying to remember. She’d been caught so unaware, and everything had happened so quickly. She knew they hadn’t been in the modern tongue, but all she could do was shake her head.

  “Unfortunately, I don’t remember the words, either,” Sardelle said. “With the pre-Occupation versions of our language, I’ve only seen the words written, not heard them spoken. I’m also not positive Kasandral originated in Iskandia, so the words could have been in another language altogether.”

  “Nia must have learned them somewhere here. I wonder if Therrik has them. Maybe they were handed down through the family.”