Origins

  Rysha wanted to object, but how could she? She’d been sent on the mission to destroy the dragon portal because of her academic knowledge, not her four months of experience as an artillery officer, nor the three weeks of elite-troops training she’d endured before going.

  “Sometimes, officers have to take on responsibility beyond their rank,” Angulus said, opening an apologetic hand toward Rysha. “Kaika, you two are going on another mission, one General Zirkander has convinced me will be worth the time and resources.” Angulus’s lips thinned as he eyed Zirkander again. “Including sending two chapaharii blades off to who knows where.”

  “I didn’t request the swords, Sire. Just officers who Captain Trip knows and trusts.”

  Trip? A tiny knife twisted in Rysha’s heart.

  She hadn’t seen him since their team reported to Angulus in Zirkander’s office in the citadel. Since then, she had been extremely busy, as Kaika had pointed out, but there had been a few nights when she’d thought about heading to the men’s barracks to look for him, to see if he wanted to talk. But she’d reminded herself of her vow that she wouldn’t spend time with him until she found a way to ensure that she, and nobody else, could control Dorfindral.

  As with the other chapaharii weapons, it wanted to kill those with dragon blood flowing through their veins, those whose ancestry gave them the power to perform magic. And Trip was such a person. More than such a person. Two thousand years ago, during the First Dragon Era, there must have been numerous people walking around who were half human and half dragon, but right now, Trip was possibly the only person in the world with that much dragon blood.

  “If he’s going to look for a dragon,” Angulus said, “he had better have along people who have the power to hurt it. By their reports—” he waved to Kaika and Rysha, “—we have no way to know in advance if this dragon will look favorably upon him or be interested in allying itself with Iskandia.”

  “This is true, Sire,” Zirkander said. “It might try to flambé them for a snack.”

  “I just love it when Zirkander recommends me for a special mission,” Kaika muttered to Rysha.

  Despite the words, her eyes gleamed. Kaika probably did love it, the potential to become a snack notwithstanding.

  “I’ll pick the pilots and tell them to pack, Sire,” Zirkander said. “Kaika, Ravenwood, you better pack too. You’re going to help Trip find his papa dragon. We’re assuming it’s alive somewhere, since his mother found it. And did interesting things with it. I guess that makes it a him.” Zirkander’s lips twisted. As comfortable as he was around magic, even he seemed to find the idea of dragons having sex with humans a little startling. “Pack your weapons and whatever research material you might need, and meet at the hangar two hours after morning formation. Trip and the rest of the team will meet you there.”

  “After morning formation?” Kaika asked. “That’s so late, General. You usually send us off at dawn. Or earlier.”

  “First formation of the month tomorrow morning.” Zirkander winked. “I hear there will be a few promotions. And I suspect Trip will be pleased to have his recent one to captain recognized in front of the new squadron he’s finally gotten a chance—a brief chance—to work with.”

  “Ah. Yes, sir.”

  “Did he choose us for the mission, sir?” Rysha wasn’t sure how she felt about that. A part of her danced inside at the idea of seeing him again, and once again putting to use the fancy rifle mount he’d built her to use in the flier, but she vividly remembered Dorfindral taking over and forcing her to attack him.

  Her archaeology and history degrees meant she was a good person to take along on a search for a dragon, but she wouldn’t have expected him to request her after that incident. Though he clearly didn’t hold it against her. That knife twisted in her heart again at the memory of Trip asking her to walk along the harbor with him at sunset some evening, and her having to tell him that she couldn’t, not until she had control of that sword.

  Rysha had been meaning to go out to see Sardelle, to see if she had any suggestions about how to gain that control, since her own research hadn’t turned up anything besides the original command words. Command words that only worked until an enemy came along who also knew them. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had time yet for that visit.

  “Actually,” Zirkander said, “I chose you. Trip hasn’t shown much interest in announcing his unique heritage to the world, so I thought it would be best to pick people who already knew about it.”

  “Did he mention…” Rysha grimaced. “Well, I guess it would have been in the report.”

  “The part where you and your sword attacked him?” Zirkander asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He didn’t, but I’ve seen it happen before.” Zirkander’s affable face lost all of its humor. “Unfortunately, that’s the tradeoff—the risk—that comes with those swords, that they can be used on magical friends as well as foes.”

  “I’m hoping to find a way to ensure they’ll obey only their wielders.”

  “Oh? That would be research worth doing.” Zirkander looked at Angulus, who nodded gravely back. Rysha thought that might mean she would be removed from the mission in order to stay here to do that research, but then Zirkander added, “Take some books. You can study up on the flight to wherever Trip says you’re going.”

  “Trip’s in charge?” Kaika asked dubiously.

  “Nah, he won’t be the ranking officer. But since it’s his papa dragon, he’ll have to be a consultant.”

  Papa dragon. Such an innocuous name for Agarrenon Shivar, the elder gold dragon that, according to Bhrava Saruth, had sired Trip.

  Despite her busy week, Rysha had managed time to look up the ancient dragon—he’d been around back when humans were first mastering agriculture—and he sounded anything but innocuous. She feared Trip would be disappointed if they did find him. She’d already warned him not to expect fondness or even an acknowledgment from the dragon. And she suspected Zirkander’s joke about flambéing might be closer to the truth than he realized.

  Rysha touched the hilt of Dorfindral, suspecting she would need the sword on this mission.

  2

  Trip knocked on the door of the two-story cottage outside of town that Sardelle and General Zirkander shared with Sardelle’s magic-wielding students and occasional dragon house guests. He’d yet to see a neighbor out in any of the yards on the dead-end street, or even a sign that anyone occupied the handful of houses. Maybe the unorthodox visitors had driven others away.

  He felt bemused—or was chagrined the word?—to know that he qualified as one of those visitors.

  The door opened, revealing Sardelle standing inside, her black hair down and her newborn baby swaddled in a wrap in her arms. She must have been in the middle of doing motherly things.

  Trip winced, feeling guilty for interrupting her. He shouldn’t have come out this evening. Oh, Sardelle had insisted—she’d only taken two days off from tutoring him since she’d given birth earlier in the week—but he still felt guilty.

  “Here, ma’am,” Trip blurted and thrust out a tool he’d made. “It’s for you and the general. It’s a wine opener. With some special features. See here? This grips the bottle, so you can open it one-handedly. That’ll come in handy for, uh…” He waved at the baby, though he didn’t mean to suggest she would be, or should be, swilling wine while mothering.

  “It’s very nice. Thank you. And I look forward to trying it, just as I do the apple corer and slicer.” Sardelle smiled. “But you don’t need to bring a gift every time you show up for lessons, Trip.”

  “I know, ma’am.” He bit his lip. “But you won’t let me pay you.”

  “I know what officers make. The military isn’t overly generous, considering you risk your lives daily.”

  “I could still pay you. I don’t have many expenses.”

  “There’s no need for payment, I assure you.” Sardelle backed away from the door, nodding for him to come inside. “I enjoy teac
hing, and it’s an honor for me to instruct a student of your caliber.”

  “Are you sure? Because no teacher has ever said that to me before. I distinctly remember the words ‘trying’ and ‘easily distracted’ on a lot of my report cards.”

  The baby’s eyes were closed, but he made faint cooing noises, and a tiny hand lifted in the air, fingers opening and closing. Sardelle plucked something off a table behind her—a ring toy with little disks that clacked together. Trip eyed it as she placed it in the baby’s grip. Would toys make better gifts than housewares? He might be able to come up with something suitable.

  “Among the Referatu,” Sardelle said, “it was always considered an honor to teach. A part of myself is passed along in what I teach, just as my instructors shared a part of themselves when teaching me. It’s a legacy of a sort. One day, you’ll teach others.”

  Trip decided he shouldn’t admit that he would prefer to teach someone how to make a wine opener than how to use magic. Everything he’d learned in the last couple of weeks continued to daunt him, and he was far more alarmed at the idea of having a dragon for a father than he was intrigued.

  Oh, she knows you’d rather play with tools than magic, Jaxi, Sardelle’s sentient soulblade, spoke into his mind from wherever she was in the house. Nobody here is obtuse. Or unobservant.

  Just nettlesome, answered Trip’s new soulblade, Azarwrath.

  The sword hung in a scabbard from his belt. Even though Trip felt self-conscious attempting to learn magic under the “eye” of a fifteen-hundred-year-old sorcerer, Azarwrath hadn’t been amenable to being left back in the barracks.

  You had better not be referring to Sardelle, Jaxi growled.

  I was not. She is a healer and knows the proper place for a woman in society. She is also not nosy or intrusive.

  Insult me again, and I’ll smite you into a puddle of molten ore.

  You haven’t the power to do so.

  “Trip?” Sardelle had moved through the living area and into the doorway of a room that did double duty as Zirkander’s home office and her meditation and instruction salon.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Trip hurried to follow her, moving around the massive couch custom-made from shot-up flier parts. “Our swords were arguing again.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  No, she definitely wasn’t obtuse or unobservant.

  “Do you want me to take the baby, Sardelle?” Tylie asked, flouncing out of the kitchen with another child snugged against her hip, Ridge and Sardelle’s toddler. What was her name? Marinka.

  “Maybe in a little while. I think he’s about to settle down for a nap. Thank you for watching Marinka.”

  “I love babysitting,” Tylie said.

  Thank the gods someone does, Jaxi said. I was glad to be here to help Sardelle with the birth, but there’s been so much squalling in the house.

  Trip scratched his head, perplexed as to how a magical sword that specialized in fireballs could “help” with a birth.

  By being supportive, genius.

  One imagines that her fireballs might be less alarming than her notion of support, Azarwrath murmured.

  Trip followed Sardelle into the office and sat across from her on a floor cushion. It looked like it would just be the two of them this evening. Maybe his ego would have a chance to recover. It had been squashed by having an eleven-year-old boy and twelve-year-old girl outperform him in joint lessons. Even though he told himself they’d had much more practice, having been training with Sardelle for the last year, it was hard to be outshone by children.

  How are you doing with your bank vault? Sardelle asked telepathically, her eyes closing.

  She referenced the exercise Jaxi had first introduced him to where he imagined his mind inside of a vault so other sorcerers—and dragons—couldn’t read his thoughts. At least that was the goal.

  Working on it, ma’am. And also on trying to expand the vault to keep those around me from having their thoughts read. But I haven’t had a dragon to practice on to see if it’s working.

  If you want a dragon, we would be happy to send one with you to the barracks, Sardelle thought.

  I don’t think the CQ sergeant would appreciate that.

  We’ll warm up with mind-protecting exercises today, then move on to your specialty, creating and manipulating fire. Later, Tylie will bring her soulblade Wreltad in. He’s agreed to work with you on mind control, one of his specialties.

  A shiver went down Trip’s spine. Mind control, ma’am? I don’t want to control anyone.

  That’s heartening to hear, but it will help with all the mental arts. I understand you had some luck dealing with dragons and forcing their barriers down by attacking their minds.

  Oh, right. Yes.

  Trip forced aside his squeamishness, telling himself this was for the greater good. It would be useful if he could protect his fellow pilots from dragon attacks, as well as assist those who wielded the chapaharii blades.

  An image of Rysha flashed into his mind, smiling as she shared her research findings, then standing up for him back in that tavern when others had singled him out for having un-Iskandian bronze skin and dark green eyes. Or maybe just because he was odd. Funny how many people had picked up on that even before he’d realized he had more than a well-developed sixth sense.

  A clunk sounded as the front door opened.

  “We’re in here, Ridge,” Sardelle called, her eyes still closed as she sat cross-legged with the baby in her arms.

  “I have company,” came the general’s response. “Is everybody decent?”

  “Olek is naked inside of his wrap, but I believe everyone else is fully clothed.”

  Trip scrambled to his feet and saluted as Zirkander walked in while removing his cap and scraping his fingers through his short brown hair. He flicked a lazy return salute toward Trip as he headed for Sardelle.

  “Naked inside his wrap?” Zirkander asked. “Sounds scandalous.” He bent to kiss the top of her head.

  The baby’s eyes opened, and he lifted both hands. Zirkander lowered a finger, and tiny ones wrapped around his.

  “Can I borrow your student for a few minutes?” Zirkander waved his free hand toward the living area.

  From his position, Trip couldn’t see through the doorway, but he let his senses drift outward. His heart lifted when he recognized Rysha’s aura.

  Had she come to see him? Or Sardelle? Probably Sardelle, he decided, not without disappointment. Trip hadn’t been telling people he was coming out here in the evenings. As futile as it surely was, he was trying to pretend to the rest of his new squadron mates that he was simply Captain “Sidetrip,” a perfectly normal pilot with a penchant toward disobeying orders and following hunches that begged him to investigate. Maybe that wasn’t entirely normal.

  “I don’t know about that,” Sardelle said, taking Ridge’s arm and letting him help her to her feet. “He hasn’t yet mastered mental power forging.”

  “I’m still working on that too.” Zirkander winked.

  Sardelle swatted his arm.

  “Trip, you ready for your mission?” Zirkander tilted his head toward the living room.

  Trip also sensed Captain Kaika out there, strolling into the kitchen where Tylie, the dragon-in-human-form Phelistoth, and the toddler were talking and preparing food. Presumably, Tylie was doing most of the work.

  With a surge of anticipation—and alarm—Trip realized this had to be about the mission he had suggested. The one that had seemed like a good idea at the time, but that terrified him now that he’d had more time to think about it.

  “Yes, sir,” he made himself say and followed Zirkander to the doorway. “Thank you for your help, ma’am,” he told Sardelle before stepping out of the office.

  “You’re welcome. I can send along some workbooks if you’re going to be gone long.”

  “Workbooks?” Trip imagined sheets urging him to identify nouns and verbs and prove he could count the number of fish in a pond.

  “I made t
hem for my younger students.” Her lips curved upward. “You may be ready for them.”

  “May.”

  “May. We haven’t worked on everything they touch upon, so you’ll find challenges.”

  For your information, Jaxi thought, you have to move the fish around in the pond on the page. Without cutting the paper and using glue.

  Does your commentary mean I’m not being successful in keeping my bank vault door closed? Trip asked.

  It means that Iskandian soulblades are nosy, Azarwrath said.

  Don’t make me have Sardelle take me outside so we can have a showdown, Jaxi told him.

  “Good evening, Captain Trip,” Rysha said, heading toward the office as Trip stepped out of it. She smiled at him, but she also looked like she wanted to hurry past without a longer encounter.

  He stepped aside so he wouldn’t be in her way, but his heart broke a little. He still wasn’t entirely certain her distance was because of the problem with controlling the sword. Their first kiss had been before the revelation about his heritage had come out. Of course, there had been a kiss after that too. A quick one before they went into battle together. She’d spoken of them spending a weekend together in a quaint rural cottage in her family’s valley, something he’d fantasized about more than once since then.

  Sardelle appeared in the doorway, and Rysha stopped short.

  “Ma’am, General Zirkander brought me here so I could ask you a couple of questions about the chapaharii weapons.”

  Sardelle nodded. “I know.”

  “Oh. Uhm, right.” Rysha hesitated, appearing disconcerted at this demonstration of telepathic communications happening around her, but she pushed her spectacles up on her nose and recovered. She still wore her army uniform, a rumpled and mud-spattered one with a knife gash in one sleeve. They must have come straight from the fort. She didn’t appear to have brought Dorfindral with her. Probably wise considering all the magic in this house. “It’s about the command words. And… power.” Rysha glanced at Trip.

  “Do you want me to leave?” He couldn’t tell if that glance meant she was uncomfortable talking about this in front of him. He looked for Zirkander. Hadn’t the general wanted to talk to him?