But she swiped through empty air. She remembered the zing of energy that had gone up her arm when the blade touched the sorceress’s defensive shield, and she felt nothing like that now.
“That wasn’t close enough,” Rysha yelled. “Turn and try again.”
“You’re a demanding passenger,” Leftie yelled back, though he was already looping to go in again.
After strafing the top of the dragon, bullets bouncing off uselessly, Duck dipped low to take Kaika in for an attack.
“Don’t shoot,” Blazer ordered, “or we’ll end up hitting each other. Stick to the swords, and—look out, Duck!”
The dragon was dipping to chase Trip’s flier. Its tail whipped up as it dove, the pointed tip smashing into Duck’s flier.
Rysha gaped as Duck and Kaika spun away, wing tips rolling over wing tips.
“I thought we were supposed to be immune to attacks,” Blazer snapped, swiping over her head as she dove along with the dragon, still trying to get close enough to hit that barrier.
“Magical attacks,” Trip said after a few seconds. After he’d gotten clarification from Jaxi? “Apparently, a physical attack can get through.”
“Took some damage,” Duck said grimly.
He’d righted his flier, but when he turned back toward the battle, the craft flew with a pronounced hitch.
Fortunately, the dragon barely seemed to have noticed that it had struck him. Or maybe that was unfortunately. The silver arrowed down after Trip’s flier, its intent clear. Those magical attacks from the soulblades could be irritating it.
Trip weaved and dove, corkscrewing to avoid his pursuer. The mechanical fliers always seemed clunky to Rysha, especially when compared to dragons, but he made his seem graceful. And the dragon truly struggled to anticipate all his crazy moves. It snapped at his tail repeatedly, but didn’t come close enough to test the soulblades’ barrier.
Until it hurled some mental attack at the flier, one that made it through. The dragon must have finally worn away the soulblades’ defenses. Trip’s craft lurched to the side, then dipped downward into a tailspin straight toward the ocean. Black smoke flowed from the back.
“No,” Rysha cried, and gripped Leftie’s shoulder. “Go, go! We have to help him.”
Leftie chased the dragon downward. “Don’t you dare get yourself killed, Trip,” he snarled, his hand tight around his flight stick as their nose pointed toward the dark ocean.
They shot down far faster than gravity alone would have carried them. The wind tore at the flier, and tears sprang from Rysha’s eyes. The fuselage vibrated, and something shifted to her side. Her rifle had almost shaken free.
Cursing, she stuffed it down deeper and jammed her hip against it so it would stay put.
“Hurry,” Blazer urged. “We’re not losing any people out here.”
Her flier was right beside Leftie’s, and she fired at the dragon, despite her admonition telling the others not to. Rysha waved Dorfindral, wishing it had power it could shoot out like the soulblades did.
The dragon picked up speed as it closed on Trip’s flier, both of them descending rapidly toward the ocean. As fast as Leftie flew after them, Rysha knew they wouldn’t catch up in time. But maybe she could get a slash in as the dragon pulled up to avoid hitting the water. Right now, it seemed intent on catching up to Trip and crushing his flier in its talons.
Rysha didn’t think it would reach him before his flier plummeted into the ocean. Not that it mattered. He would die either way.
She couldn’t feel anything but horror at that thought, but if he had to die, she found solace in knowing the dragon wouldn’t be able to deliver him to its mate for dinner.
At the last second, when it looked like Trip would plunge into the ocean, he pulled up. His flier skimmed so close to the waves that water sprayed up on either side of him.
As quick and agile as dragons were, it seemed the creature should have had time to react, but it plunged head first into the waves.
“Be ready for it to come out,” Trip said, his voice utterly calm.
Had he engineered that? Feigned the near crash? The smoke following him down? Maybe the soulblades had created an illusion.
“Jaxi’s going to light up the spot where it’s coming out,” he added. “Be ready to strike. There, now!”
A red sphere seemed to float on the water’s surface, like some bullseye on a gun range. Leftie and Blazer flew toward it.
Rysha risked unfastening her harness. She might need the extra two feet of reach she could get without it. She just hoped that if she went for a swim, Leftie would come back for her before the sharks darted in.
The dragon burst from the water like a geyser erupting.
There was no time for thought, only to react. As Leftie flew toward it, tilting to give Rysha the angle she needed, she lunged from her seat, slashing overhead. Once again, she cut through air. But she was so close. Twelve feet away? Thirteen?
Its silver body sped past, and she thought she would be too late for another lunge, but there was the tail, streaming out after it.
Kill! Dorfindral seemed to cry into her mind.
She wasn’t sure if it was her idea or the sword’s, but she jumped onto her seat and sprang toward that tail. Instead of slashing wildly, Dorfindral guided her arm into a neat stab. The very tip encountered resistance, and it felt like a bubble popping.
An electrical backlash shot up her arm, and she cried out at the shock, almost pain. But it was soon replaced with the shock of landing in the water. Absolutely frigid water.
She plunged downward, her head going under, as the ocean enveloped her, shocking her body with its iciness. At first, she couldn’t move, and her body descended into the darkness, but fear sent a fresh surge of energy through her, and she kicked wildly.
Her boots and her clothing dragged at her, and Dorfindral was a dead weight, but her flailing and kicking brought her to the surface. She tried to gasp in air, but it was as if the cold had shocked her lungs like a sharp blow to the solar plexus. They couldn’t seem to work.
In the air above, red lightning streaked into the dragon’s body, wrapping all around it at the same time as a blaze of white energy slammed into its body. For the first time, those attacks reached its scales. Machine guns fired, as well, and one of the fliers zoomed past right over her head.
Leftie. He glanced over the side, lifting a finger toward her, but banked and pursued the dragon.
Rysha’s lungs finally kicked into gear, and she managed to gasp in air. She treaded water as vigorously as she could, more than needed to stay afloat, and she hoped the energy expenditure would warm her body. She’d never been in water so cold in her life.
The dragon must have had enough of the battle because it flew away. Rysha had lost all sense of direction, and she had no idea if it sped out to sea or back toward land—ice.
Three of the fliers tried to pursue it, but it soon outpaced them, pulling ahead even though its wings didn’t seem to beat that rapidly. The fourth flier—Duck’s damaged one?—had more of a hitch now, and it looked like it needed to head straight for a safe landing spot. Wherever that would be.
Two of the fliers turned back. Rysha lifted Dorfindral out of the water, waving to get their attention. Could they still see her? She had to be the tiniest of specks in the dark ocean, especially with the waves rising and falling all around her.
She willed Dorfindral to glow green, since daylight was fading, and that glow would make it easier for her comrades to see her. But it didn’t glow. What the hells? Because there was no magic nearby?
Seven gods, she was freezing. How long could she survive in this frigid water? Even if she got out, would they be able to get her somewhere to warm her up in time?
She was so busy thinking about hypothermia that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings. Her arm brushed against something, and she shrieked, images of sharks lurching into her mind.
Whirling, Rysha hacked with the sword before it registered what
had touched her. An iceberg floated there. Her boot bumped the underwater part of it as Dorfindral sank into the visible ice, lodging there.
She grunted, feeling foolish, then wondered if she could climb atop it to make herself more visible.
But the roar of the fliers’ propellers reached her ears, and she knew they were close. Leftie and Trip came into view over the waves, cruising low over the water. Trip had Dreyak behind him, but her seat behind Leftie waited for her.
Rysha yanked her sword free and pushed away from the iceberg. She reached her free hand up. She could see Leftie and Trip yelling to each other, but couldn’t hear their words, not with freezing water burrowing into her ear canals. Her teeth chattered so loudly they hurt as they knocked together.
Trip pointed at Leftie, then pointed at Rysha. As she looked at their fliers from below, she realized the problem. They couldn’t land in the water, and with the thrusters mounted on the lower half of the craft, they wouldn’t be able to reach her if they simply leaned over the sides and lowered a hand. The soulblades also wouldn’t be able to levitate her out, if that was within their power, as long as she held Dorfindral.
Leftie flew toward her, leaning over the side of his flier as he came in. He was going to make a grab for her.
Though she did not think it would work, Rysha lifted her hand, trying to keep it steady as she treaded with her legs, raising herself as much as possible.
The propeller roared as he came in, leaning far out of the cockpit and stretching his fingers toward her. He missed by two feet.
Damn it.
Teeth cracking together, Rysha sank back down into the water. She couldn’t feel her toes, and numbness was creeping into her legs, despite her efforts to warm herself through exertion. This wasn’t the lake in her family’s valley back home.
She thought about jabbing Dorfindral into the iceberg, leaving it there so they could reach her with magic. Surely, they could figure out a way to retrieve the blade once she was back in one of the fliers. But what if she didn’t lodge it in well enough, and it fell out? They could never get it off the bottom of the ocean.
There was the surge of indignation from the blade that she’d expected to feel earlier.
A flier cruised toward her again, Trip this time. Dreyak had been in his back seat a moment before, but now it was empty. Maybe the soulblades had levitated him over to Leftie’s flier?
Rysha didn’t care, as long as someone plucked her out of the water.
Dorfindral flared green as Trip approached.
“Knock it off,” she told it, the words barely audible over her chattering teeth.
Trip flipped completely upside down, his eyes never leaving hers. Their intensity sent a tingle through her. Or maybe that was from her body going entirely numb.
She grunted and hefted her leaden arm into the air as high as she could as he approached, praying he would be able to reach her.
The propeller roared, and she feared it would take her head off—his upper wings were only an inch above the water. But she kept her arm up, resisting the urge to duck out of the way.
Fingers wrapped around her wrist, and she was yanked out so quickly, she almost dropped Dorfindral. Though her hand was so numb, she could barely tell, she willed her fingers to stay wrapped around the hilt, clenching so hard it hurt. The one thing she could not do was lose that sword. Her country needed it.
Trip rolled his flier sideways, and briefly, she lay on the fuselage, her wrist still clasped in his hand. He glanced at her—did he expect her to climb into the back seat? Normally, she could, but her body was so numb, she couldn’t move anything, couldn’t do anything except focus on keeping her grip on the sword.
Trip rolled the flier the rest of the way upright, took them up over the waves, then twisted and grabbed her with his other hand too. Pain flashed in his eyes, and Dorfindral flared with intense green light. As Trip maneuvered her into the seat behind him, Rysha realized the sword must be hurting him, punishing him for being so close.
Her mouth wouldn’t work when she tried to yell the control order for, “Stand down” at the blade, so she yelled it in her mind. It seemed to work, somewhat. The glow faded partially.
With Trip’s help, Rysha collapsed into the seat well. Trembles wracked her body, and the sword dropped from her limp fingers.
She reached for it, afraid it would fall out if she didn’t hold it, but Trip yelled, “Don’t,” over his shoulder. “Don’t touch it for a few minutes, and Jaxi will warm you up. I’ll fly straight so it won’t fall out.”
Rysha slumped deeper into the seat, happy to comply, happy to do anything that would result in her being warm.
Right after Trip spoke, a slow, subtle heat flowed into her. She continued to tremble and shake, and she knew it would take a while to truly warm up. She just hoped Trip had gotten her out quickly enough that there wouldn’t be lasting damage. Though the soldiers all had combat-medic training, there weren’t any doctors or healers among them, and she didn’t want to be a burden going forward.
Trip looked back at her. They’d ascended above the waves, and Rysha could see the three other fliers sailing ahead of them, Blazer and Leftie matching the slow pace of Duck’s damaged craft. But she only glanced at them. She met Trip’s gaze, wanting to tell him how grateful she was, but her teeth hadn’t stopped chattering. Even though the warmth filling her was driving away the tremendous cold, she didn’t think she could manage words yet.
His lips parted, as if he wanted to ask a question, but didn’t know how to phrase it. He was probably wondering if she was all right, or if she would be.
She lifted her numb arms and leaned forward to hug him. She was soaking wet and had to look like something an owl had coughed up, but he didn’t pull away. He reached back and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her as close as possible, given the seat back between them.
“Guess that answers my question,” he said, warm humor in his voice, his cheek against hers.
“Wha—at?” she asked, proud she’d gotten a word out. Sort of.
“I wondered if the sword was going to make you brain me if you’re riding behind me.” He said it lightly, but she knew it had to be a true concern for him. That was the reason she hadn’t been flying behind him, as she had done at the beginning of the mission.
She squeezed him tightly. Almost fiercely. Afraid. Afraid of what, she wasn’t sure. That the sword would attempt to make her kill him? As it had been doing in the dream where she’d stalked him through a dark forest?
“I’ll ha—han—dle the sword,” she said, wishing the words came out more firmly, as if that could make them more true. No, they would be true. She swore it to herself.
“Good.”
He drew back, not holding the hug for nearly as long as she wished, but she told herself he had to fly the craft. Before pulling away completely, he smiled and kissed her on the cheek. It was a perfectly chaste I’m-glad-you-didn’t-die kiss, but it sent a warm tingle through Rysha. Long after Trip turned around, and she was looking only at the back of his head, she found herself thinking of the intensity of his dark green eyes as he’d flown in to get her.
A sense of disgruntlement seemed to waft up from Dorfindral, even though she wasn’t touching the sword, but she sat back in her seat and did her best to ignore it. Instead, as the soulblade continued to warm her numb limbs, she closed her eyes and thought of Trip’s determined expression as he’d come to help her. Determined and confident. He’d never doubted he could pull her up. And why would he? He seemed more comfortable in the sky than on land. Maybe he was.
3
As a full moon gleamed in the night sky, shining silvery light over the fields of ice below, Trip looked dubiously down at the Cofah research outpost. They were close to a mile away, but the ambient light was enough that he could make out two corrugated metal buildings that were standing, and a dozen more that weren’t.
Wreckage scattered the ice all around the area, and the dark deflated envelope
of an airship pooled like a blanket next to one of the remaining buildings. He couldn’t tell if the ship itself was damaged. It was currently being smothered by the limp balloon.
There weren’t lights on in the buildings, nor did he see or smell smoke. Given how cold he was, even with his parka on, he couldn’t imagine sitting down there without a fire going. Though he didn’t think his senses would tell him anything his eyes didn’t, he did his best to stretch out with them, trying to determine if anyone was alive down there.
He detected a few small animals, but no people.
“There’s nobody there, Major,” Trip said.
“You sure? Jaxi tell you?”
Jaxi? Trip asked, more because he didn’t want to lie than because he didn’t trust his senses.
By all means, let us keep up your ruse. You can truthfully let her know that I’ve detected no humans.
“Yes,” Trip said.
“Well, I guess my worry about us getting shot down by Cofah scientists won’t prove true,” Blazer said.
“We must check on my people,” Dreyak said from Leftie’s back seat.
“We’re landing because you said we could repair our battle damage here,” Blazer said, “but you’re more than welcome to look for people who aren’t there.”
That started an argument, which Trip ignored. Instead, he told Jaxi, Thanks.
She could have forced him to lie to Blazer.
Yes, you should be pleased that Sardelle told me to help you without being specific in regard to how. Dragon portals, lying, who knows?
Trip didn’t respond to her sarcasm because he didn’t want to argue about his decision to continue to hide his abilities. Maybe he would have been more open if Leftie hadn’t been with them, as he wouldn’t have had as much to lose if near strangers shunned him—he was used to that.
Self-pity? Jaxi asked. I don’t know what you’ve been reading, but the ladies are not drawn to that.
I wasn’t planning to share it with any ladies.
What do you think I am?