Revelations

  He thought about pointing out that Jylea had made her choice and had wanted to work with a megalomaniacal dragon, one that would have happily enslaved Iskandia. Or worse. But he doubted that would make Rysha feel better. Instead, he waited for her to catch up to him, and rested an arm around her shoulders, something he might not have done if she’d still carried the other blade.

  This time, she didn’t stiffen at his touch. She leaned into him, her chin dropping to her chest.

  “I know they are—they were—Iskandian enemies,” she said, “and I also know that, in giving Jylea the control words for the sword, I set up that whole stupid encounter in the chamber.”

  Trip hadn’t caught that, that Rysha had shared the words when she’d handed over the sword. Jylea must have then shared them with Kiadarsa. He grimaced, realizing Rysha had to feel their battle had been her fault.

  “But it’s hard to see them like this,” she went on. “Dead, their bodies freezing. They’ll soon be buried by the snow. Forgotten. Will their people, their relatives, even know what happened to them?”

  “I don’t know,” Trip said quietly, wishing he had something more helpful to say.

  “Maybe this was a mistake,” Rysha said, looking past the broken railing and into the falling snow. “Me becoming a soldier. I thought I could handle anything, but I didn’t know I’d care this much. That the killing would be this hard. When I was ten, one of our shepherd dogs caught a squirrel I’d been feeding all winter. Killed it before I could get there to free it. I cried for weeks. Maybe that should have been a sign that I don’t have the heart for killing and death.”

  Trip pulled her closer, turning the arm around her shoulders into a hug. “You’re doing fine, Rysha. It’s all right to care. I’m sure it’s better for the unit if someone does care. And question. Otherwise you get…” He thought of his own instincts, the savagery—the glee—he sometimes felt in battle when he was flying, holding down the triggers of his machine guns as he tore into pirate ships. And pirates. People. Did he have his heritage to thank for that? Were those the instincts of a predator arising within him?

  He patted her back. “It’s just important that people care, at least some of them. That goes for soldiers too.”

  She dropped her forehead against his shoulder and let him hold her. He knew this wasn’t the time, but he found himself wondering if she’d meant what she’d said before the battle, that they could spend a weekend together at a cottage on her family’s property. He would love to escape all this, at least for a couple of days, and just be a man enjoying time with a woman who freely spoke of her passions and liked the things he built.

  “Is the sword up there?” Blazer yelled from the ground.

  She shouldn’t have been able to see them from down there, but Rysha stepped away from Trip. “Yes, we’re almost there, ma’am.”

  She removed her spectacles and seemed to pull herself together as she took a few seconds to wipe them off. “Thank you, Trip.”

  “For what?”

  “Support.”

  “You’re welcome.” He thought about retrieving the sword for her, so she wouldn’t have to go closer to Jylea’s body, but Dorfindral wouldn’t allow it. “When we get back…” He paused, not wanting to mention the cottage or the weekend, since that implied more than she may have meant to offer, especially given that they’d only kissed a couple of times thus far. “Will you have dinner with me and go for a sunset walk along the harbor?”

  “I…” Rysha stared down at her spectacles, still wiping them, though the lenses were clean. She didn’t look at his eyes. “I would like that, but I don’t feel I can be with you as long as I’m a wielder for one of these swords. At least not until I figure out how to ensure that I and only I can control the one in my hands.”

  “Ah.” Trip bit his lip to keep protests from flowing off his tongue. He wanted to tell her that he was willing to risk being around her, that he’d been able to keep her from hurting him even when she had lost control, but he realized she wouldn’t appreciate being reminded that he had ways to come out on top if they fought. And he wasn’t entirely sure that this was about the sword and not about him. About what he had the potential to become. She’d said she didn’t mind that he was odd, but he was more than odd now, wasn’t he?

  Tears pricked his own eyes, and when he blinked, they froze in his lashes. He wished he could go back to just being Trip. Captain Trip, Wolf Squadron pilot. Nothing more.

  Rysha put her spectacles back on and pushed them up on her nose, an achingly familiar gesture. She walked toward Jylea and knelt, pulling the sword from the dead woman’s hand.

  It flared an even brighter green as Rysha turned back toward Trip. Her eyes reflected that green, and her face seemed to grow harder, more determined. Because she was fighting it, ensuring it wouldn’t convince her to attack him?

  Trip turned his back, not wanting to see the battle in her eyes. And not wanting to think about how they wouldn’t get that walk along the harbor, not as long as she carried one of those swords.

  He wished he could ensure that someone else would be given the wielder job when they got back, but he feared that wouldn’t happen. Unless this mission changed her mind about her career, she would resume her training in the elite troops, and that combined with her expertise on dragons would probably stamp her as an ideal candidate to carry a chapaharii weapon.

  The only way he could see that changing was if the situation with the dragons changed. If they somehow became less of a threat to Iskandia.

  But how? As the portal had shown him, hundreds of dragons had come into the world. A few—maybe a dozen—seemed willing to ally themselves with Iskandia, but there were so many others to worry about.

  Unless someone could make a deal with the dragons to ensure they left the nation alone, Iskandia would have to worry about them for years to come. Maybe forever.

  But who could make such a deal? The king? Him? Hardly. What could either of them possibly offer a dragon, anyway?

  This thousands-of-years-old elder dragon that Bhrava Saruth had spoken of… he might be able to sway others. Agarrenon Shivar.

  Trip blinked a few times, considering the thought from different angles. Was it possible that Agarrenon Shivar could be convinced to help? Assuming he was alive somewhere?

  “I found the box,” Rysha said from behind him.

  Trip jumped. He’d been so focused on his thoughts that he’d lost track of her.

  She stepped up beside him, Dorfindral in its box, its glow hidden away for now. “Are you ready to go? Shulina Arya said she would take us back to the fliers.”

  “Yes,” Trip said, “but let me ask you something first. Do you think, if you did some research, you might be able to find where Agarrenon Shivar is located? Or was located approximately twenty-five years ago? If he’s still alive, maybe…”

  “You want to find the dragon that fathered you?”

  Trip nodded.

  “I don’t think—I mean, did you know that male dragons shape-shifted into all manner of animals to have sex and explore pleasure in various incarnations? Horses, lions, apes, even sea creatures such as whales. It’s believed that unicorns, winged tigers, flash apes, giant octopi, and other creatures that are nearly extinct now first came into existence as a result of dragons mating with normal animals. The dragons weren’t known to have any feelings toward these half-magical offspring. I think that if you went looking for your father, you would be disappointed, even if you found him.”

  “It’s good to know not to get my expectations up, I guess.” Trip managed a lopsided smile. “But I mostly thought that if we found him, we might be able to make a deal with him and get his help in defending Iskandia. From what Bhrava Saruth said, he was respected among all dragons. Maybe…” He decided not to mention that he hoped to create a world where she didn’t need to carry that sword around. It sounded selfish. Besides, he wanted to protect his homeland, not just his love life. That was what he’d sworn to do the day he’d acc
epted his commission as an officer.

  Trip shrugged and finished with, “Maybe it would make a difference.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” Rysha said, “but I would definitely be happy to do the research.”

  “Good. Thank you.”

  They walked back to join the others. With that sword box tucked under Rysha’s arm, Trip didn’t try to touch her again. And when it was time for the dragons to take them back to the fliers, he rode on Bhrava Saruth’s back instead of on Shulina Arya’s with her.

  • • • • •

  Trip followed Blazer, Kaika, Rysha, Duck, Leftie, and Dreyak through the courtyard of the citadel toward the double doors and stairs that led to General Zirkander’s office. The team had arrived late the night before after a long flight from the Antarctic. Their new allies had accompanied them for a portion of the journey before declaring the “human flying contraptions” tediously slow and disappearing over the horizon. Trip hoped they had headed to Iskandia and would be around to help in future battles. At least the capital hadn’t been attacked again while his team had been away. The gold dragon that had promised to return in three days had either been bluffing at the time, or the presence of Kasandral had kept him away.

  The soldiers standing guard at the entrance to the citadel did not stop Blazer’s group or even quirk questioning eyebrows in their direction. Trip suspected reports had already been delivered and the general had received the details of the mission, if not by paper, then by soulblade. Maybe it was self-centered, but he worried that some of those details included the new revelations about him, that he was… what he apparently was.

  His mouth twisted. Leftie hadn’t spoken to him all the way back. He hadn’t said anything mean, but he no longer seemed comfortable including Trip in his banter. As if he were some stranger rather than a friend of the last six years.

  Kaika had mentioned him in her banter, including speculations about whether people who were half dragon were better endowed than typical humans, but since the jokes had been reminders of his otherness, he hadn’t been enthused by them. Blazer and Duck didn’t seem to know how to treat him, either. Maybe he was being overly sensitive, but he no longer felt a part of the one organization where he’d previously belonged, and he worried that he wouldn’t be wanted in Wolf Squadron. As Jaxi had said, it would be logical for them to take him—to want him—for his burgeoning abilities, but humans weren’t particularly logical creatures.

  Rysha brushed his hand as they navigated the stairs inside and smiled at him. He managed a return smile for her, though she, too, had been more distant since she’d told him they couldn’t be together until she figured out how to completely control the sword.

  Hopefully, that would happen with time, or they would find Agarrenon Shivar, and the dragon would help them find a way to keep winged enemies from Iskandia’s doorstep. For now, Trip would try to avoid doing something stupid that would drive Rysha away.

  Like moping and worrying about things that haven’t come to pass? Jaxi asked. And that may not come to pass?

  I don’t know. Is that the kind of thing that scares women away?

  Most definitely. Nobody likes a broody dragonling.

  That’s not very funny.

  Are you sure? Azzy is giggling.

  I most certainly am not. I was busy looking up dragonling in the Iskandian dictionary to see if it’s a word. It is not.

  Jaxi made a phhhht noise in their minds.

  Rysha’s step slowed when they reached the top of the stairs, and Trip looked up, wondering at the reason. Four men in uniforms that Trip didn’t recognize stood, two on each side of Zirkander’s closed door. Long knives, pistols, and ammo pouches hung from their belts, and they clasped rifles in their hands.

  “What is that uniform?” Trip whispered to Rysha.

  Kaika, Blazer, Duck, and Dreyak didn’t seem fazed, but Leftie glanced back, perhaps having the same question for Rysha.

  “The king’s personal guard,” she said.

  “Does that mean the king is in there?”

  “Most likely.”

  Trip’s first thought was that they would have to wait for Angulus to finish his appointment with Zirkander—or would it be Zirkander who had an appointment with the king? But when Kaika gave the guards a sultry, “Hello, boys,” and knocked on the door, he realized the king might be there because of them. Or because of… him? No, surely not. Angulus would want the details of the portal mission, maybe a count of all the dragons that had passed into the world.

  Trip didn’t have an exact number. Would the king expect an exact number? Would he assume Trip could provide it? Because of his dragonness?

  That is also not a word, Azarwrath informed him.

  I hope you’ll forgive me for going back to Sardelle, Jaxi said, and leaving you with this staid, vocabulary-obsessed log, Trip. You’ll have to introduce him to Wreltad. They’ll be perfect for each other.

  The door opened, and the king’s men moved nothing but their eyes as the group passed inside.

  Trip tried to tell himself there was no reason to feel worried by the guards—any guards. Now that he knew how to erect barriers around himself, he needn’t fear men with rifles. Men with the power to make or break his career, that was another matter.

  He swallowed, stepping to the side of the door as soon as he passed over the threshold. He’d intended to duck into a corner, but another of those guards stood there, so he didn’t have easy access. He glanced at the couch, but that was taken too. Sardelle sat on it, not yet having delivered her baby, but looking like she would do so soon. No doubt, she’d been waiting until Jaxi arrived home and could be there for it.

  Babies don’t work that way, Jaxi said, but I am pleased to be back in time.

  General Zirkander stood in a similar position as the last time Trip had been here, next to the desk instead of sitting at it, one thigh propped over the corner.

  It took Trip a few seconds—and several people saluting and saying, “Good morning, Sire”—before he spotted the king near the window.

  Angulus was a tall, stocky man with broad features and short salt-and-pepper hair that wanted to curl. He looked far more normal than Trip would have expected. Like an ordinary person. Trip had never been to any of Angulus’s speeches, since those were typically in the capital, but the man usually had a crown and a fur-trimmed cloak of office in the newspaper articles. Today, he wore well-tailored but unremarkable dark trousers and a cream-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up. If not for the photographs and portraits around the country—and the guards—Trip wouldn’t have guessed who he was.

  Realizing he was staring, he hurried to add his salute to those of the others, relieved that was the appropriate greeting for a soldier in uniform. He had no idea how one was supposed to greet one’s monarch, otherwise. Bows? Genuflections?

  Angulus gazed over at him for a long moment, and Trip wondered what he’d been told.

  But it was Zirkander who started the debriefing. “You blew up the portal, Captain Kaika?”

  “It was a group effort, sir, but we destroyed it. Most of it. We didn’t need the fancy dragon-slaying swords, after all. My mundane explosives worked juuuust fine. We did have to remove what appeared to be its power source first. A rather familiar pointy purple crystal that had been stuck into a slot in the portal.”

  Zirkander arched his eyebrows. “The crystal from the Magroth mines?”

  “The one that Bhrava Saruth claimed?” Sardelle asked.

  Kaika nodded to both of them. “He said Yisharnesh found his hiding spot, stole it, and was the one to stick it into the crystal-sized keyhole in the portal. That allowed her to open it and invite more allies to come through.”

  “I always believed that crystal was more than a ‘repository of knowledge,’” Sardelle murmured.

  “Our dragonly allies stole the portal and hid it, sir,” Blazer said, her cigar missing today. “Temporarily. They were discovered and were imprisoned for doing so. I imagine they
beat us here and gave you the story.”

  “Yes.” Zirkander exchanged looks with Sardelle, their mouths twisting wryly.

  “Any idea on the number of dragons that came through?” Angulus asked. “And how many were truly Yisharnesh’s allies—and therefore may still be Cofah allies—and how many are simply here to wreak havoc?”

  “Oh, I don’t think they came to wreak havoc, Sire,” Rysha said. “They may enjoy that, but they are intelligent, and they do consider this their homeland, however long they were gone. It’s a desirable world to them.”

  “A desirable place for havoc wreaking?”

  “Well, perhaps to some, Sire.”

  Rysha didn’t appear intimidated by speaking to the king, and Trip wondered if she’d met him before. Maybe those in noble families got invited to fancy dinners and balls at the king’s court. He had no idea if that was done in the modern day, but had heard numerous fairy tales that suggested such things had been common once.

  “As to the numbers, Trip was the one to touch the portal and receive…” Rysha looked at him. “A vision?”

  Trip tried not to squirm as Angulus’s gaze swung toward him. He was certain the king would think him crazy if he spoke of visions.

  “I saw something, Sire. It seemed to be a glimpse of dragons coming out of the portal in a compressed time frame. I’d guess there were four to five hundred of them.”

  “Hundred?” Angulus mouthed.

  “It’s possible the portal, uhm, lied to me—”

  “I do hate it when magical portals aren’t honest,” Zirkander said.

  Angulus glared at him.

  “But,” Trip said, deciding to ignore the exchange, “a lot of doors opened for me in there, so I think it makes sense that the portal would have worked for me too.”

  Most of his team members looked at him. Even though they’d been there, they couldn’t quite hide that they all thought this was odd. Even Rysha seemed daunted by the reminder of what he was.