Dragon Storm

  “True. But you smell all right.”

  All right? Jaxi asked. You need to work on your compliments for women, especially if you want to have a chance at romancing the lieutenant.

  I’m not trying to romance her. Trip grimaced at the sting of the antiseptic. And Jaxi’s nosiness. She’s from a noble family. Nobles don’t romance orphans from the wild and uncivilized east side of the country.

  Trip did not feel particularly wild or uncivilized, but he knew many people in the west had those beliefs about people from the east, and that many sneered at those who got their degrees from Charkolt University instead of one of the three more distinguished schools near the capital.

  You’d be romancing her, not her family, I imagine. Unless you have something outré in mind.

  Trip’s cheeks warmed. No. I don’t think you understand.

  In my time, power was a great equalizer. The nobility was always the nobility, descendants of those warrior and mage heroes that drove the Cofah out of Iskandia back after the dragons first disappeared. But if you made a name for yourself as a powerful sorcerer, then most families would welcome you into their fold.

  I’ll be sure to knock on her parents’ door as soon as I become a powerful sorcerer.

  Excellent.

  I was joking. These days, being even a mediocre sorcerer would get you shot.

  Being a mediocre sorcerer would have gotten you shot in any era, Jaxi informed him. I strongly suggest you become a powerful sorcerer. As to the rest, attitudes are changing around the capital. Sardelle has been working to help that along.

  Even if that’s true, from what little I saw of Rysha’s family, they’d be more likely to approve of someone politically powerful than someone magically powerful.

  Yes, they sound tedious. Why can’t you romance her without them being involved? You’re young. You don’t have to marry in order to have sex. You could simply rut with abandon with her while you’re out here on this mission.

  Trip choked, not so much at the words but at the image that Jaxi shared along with them, him and Rysha doing their best to have sex in the cockpit of his flier as it sailed along over the ocean. He couldn’t imagine that not being awkward, if not impossible.

  I assure you it’s not impossible.

  “Are you all right?” Rysha asked, leaning back from cleaning his wound, probably worried she had hurt him.

  “Yes. Jaxi is talking to me about strange things. Unbelievable things.”

  All you would have to do is ask Ridge about it. He could verify that it is possible, I assure you.

  Yes, I’ll be sure to ask my commanding officer about the creative places he’s had sex.

  Good. Then we don’t need to discuss it further.

  On that, we’re agreed.

  “Want to share?” Rysha quirked her eyebrows.

  Trip shook his head. “Not this time, no.”

  “Ah.” She looked disappointed but bent down to finish working on his wound without further prying.

  The appealing way her fingers brushed his skin here and there as she applied the antiseptic distracted Trip from Jaxi’s disturbing conversation. His body tingled in response, and he imagined her trailing those fingers upward and across his chest.

  “We’re leaving soon,” Rysha said quietly, glancing at the others. “I have a lot of respect for Captain Kaika, but I’m worried that the two of us—the three of us—won’t be enough. I know I said we wouldn’t need rescuing, but that was probably hubris speaking. When I stop to consider what we’re up against and what’s already happened… I worry they’ll know we’re coming, after the way we exited the lagoon.”

  “I’m not sure they’ll assume people who weren’t willing to pay the docking fee are people who will come over and make trouble for their fortress.” Trip tried to smile encouragingly, even if he shared her doubts.

  “I think we drew enough attention that their sorceress—or someone else—might have taken a close look at our ship and guessed those were fliers on the deck.” Rysha shrugged, waving for him to lower his arm so she could clean that wound too.

  “It’s possible. You’ll have to be careful and be prepared to abort if it’s too dangerous.”

  “I’m not sure Captain Kaika knows the meaning of that word. I read all about her before trying out for the elite troops, including her public mission reports. She hasn’t given up very often.” Rysha smiled at him, and he noticed a few faded freckles across her cheeks and nose. “I wish you were going. I understood their argument, but I can’t believe Sardelle sent her soulblade along so she could sit propped against a log in the woods.”

  Thank you, Jaxi said.

  Rysha’s eyebrows flew up, and Trip realized the soulblade had spoken the words into her mind, as well.

  I couldn’t contain myself. Maybe I’ll take her off my no-touching list.

  Rysha wore a bemused expression as she put away the antiseptic and withdrew something with the unimaginative name of Healing Salve #11. Trip should have read the label on that one earlier. He’d seen the tub and figured it was an ointment for burns or a cream to apply after encounters with poisonous vegetation. He could have easily tended his own wounds. Of course, that wouldn’t have been as appealing as a woman gently rubbing the unctuous goo into his side.

  Now that she was using it, he sensed the magic about it, and unlike the sting-inducing antiseptic concoction, this felt good going on. The slight tingles he’d been feeling from her touch before turned into shivers of pleasure. He found himself remembering Rysha in the pirate costume with all that skin on display and also thinking of Jaxi’s words about romancing. Or rutting, as she’d so bluntly called it.

  He didn’t think Rysha was the type, however, to rut randomly with someone on a mission. Despite her current career, he could sense her noble upbringing in her. Even when she’d been spattered in mud, she’d seemed dignified and proper. It was hard to imagine her sitting on his lap in his flier cockpit doing libidinous things. He suspected she would expect a potential suitor to go to her parents and ask their permission to court her.

  And yet, her fingers lingered as she applied the ointment. She’d gone over the gouge once already, but she seemed determined to apply more, to be thorough. And he wasn’t going to stop her. That felt far too good.

  “These were just from earlier today, weren’t they?” Rysha asked, peering closer. “It’s amazing how quickly you’ve been healing.”

  A thread of worry curled through his gut. He’d always healed more quickly than others around him. It was another one of his quirks, one he’d done his best to hide when growing up. Rysha was observant, so he couldn’t imagine hiding much from her. But, despite Jaxi’s words about sorcery being more acceptable around the capital now, he didn’t want to test that with Rysha. And he definitely didn’t want her to think him odd.

  “Must be that goo,” he said.

  “Hm.” She kept peering at him as she rubbed a little more on. Then, as her fingers continued to stroke him, her gaze lifted to his chest, snagging there for a moment. Finally, she looked up and met his eyes.

  A little zing ran through him, as if she’d given him a static shock. But something far more appealing than a shock. He held her gaze, thoughts of rutting, or at least kissing, charging to the forefront of his mind.

  “Lieutenant?” Blazer called from the other inlet. “When you’re done rubbing Captain Trip, we’re ready to go.”

  Rysha jerked back, her hand dropping. “I’m helping him with his wounds,” she called, sounding defensive.

  Trip felt combative rather than defensive, wanting to snarl at their onlookers to go away, and then draw Rysha into the trees for privacy.

  He lifted his eyes skyward and took a deep breath, reminding himself that there were many reasons why such feelings should not be acted upon.

  Rysha bit her lip, her cheeks flaming red. Was it possible she’d been enjoying touching him? Had she felt something, too, as their gazes had locked?

  “And with the fantas
ies that will sustain him while we’re gone, I’m sure,” Kaika called, giving them a wave and a grin.

  Now Trip’s cheeks started flaming. He knew Kaika’s teasing was good-natured and not meant to offend, but it was a little too close to the mark.

  “Don’t you just love the military?” he asked, trying to put Rysha at ease and brush aside the taunts.

  “I did choose this lifestyle.”

  “Any regrets?” Trip pulled his shirt over his head, thinking of the conversation he’d heard at her manor. It had been clear her family had regrets.

  “Not yet. I mean, I’m sad that I wasn’t there for my grandmother in the end, but I know logically, I couldn’t have done anything to help her if I had been. And in the army, I can at least fight against dragons and other enemies, even if I have yet to be effective at it.”

  “I know the feeling.” Trip smiled. True, he had been the reason Zirkander had been able to finish off that dragon—or so they had told him—but that wasn’t the story he’d given Rysha and the others. And he wasn’t entirely sure that hadn’t been some fluke, that Zirkander, Sardelle, and Jaxi had been mistaken.

  “Someday, we’ll be experienced and competent,” Rysha said, capping the salve and returning it to the kit.

  She slid off the log and headed toward the others. Trip watched her go, admiring her walk, even though it wasn’t sultry or sexy, especially now that she was back in fatigues and boots. But his mind would never forget the image of her in far fewer clothes, nor would he forget the way she’d come to his defense in the Black Stag. He sensed that he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding his peculiarities from her, even though, by habit, he kept trying to do so. But he also sensed that she wasn’t alarmed by them. Or repulsed by them. Or scared of them. He was starting to believe that if she figured out that he had some shaman for a father, she would stand at his side instead of handing him over to the authorities to be hanged. So far, only his grandmother and grandfather had been like that, and they were his own blood.

  Be careful, he thought toward her back, thinking of the doubts she’d shared.

  To his surprise, she looked over her shoulder, her expression curious.

  He lifted a hand in parting, keeping his face calm, though a part of him panicked inside. He hadn’t spoken to her with his mind, had he? The way Jaxi could? Telepathically?

  He didn’t know how to do that. Did he?

  18

  Rysha picked a careful route behind Kaika and in front of the silent and stony Dreyak, wishing they dared carry a lantern through the dark jungle. Twilight had come and gone, and they hadn’t yet reached their destination. The fishy sea air was strong, though, so they had to be close. Cicadas, or something like them, spoke loudly from the trees, covering the sounds of their footsteps. Not that they had encountered anyone else out here.

  The trees ended abruptly, and Kaika paused before heading out into a clearing. The sky, visible for the first time since the pond, held a quarter moon that shone its silvery light through the clouds. It was enough to see the stump-dotted knee-high grass that stretched toward a cliff overlooking the ocean.

  After ensuring nobody was skulking about up there—besides them—they headed through the field. About halfway across, the top of the fortress came into view. Rising five stories high and built out over the water on the east end of a sheltered harbor, the structure was larger than Rysha had imagined. It was still too dark to see details clearly, but it appeared to be made entirely from logs and beams, with open platforms all around the living areas, many of them attached by rope bridges. It looked like the kind of tree fort kids dreamed of making.

  “Very flammable,” Dreyak observed, his first words since they had left the pond.

  Not that Rysha had been chatty, either. She’d been thinking about Trip and whether she should be thinking about Trip. As far as she knew, they had nothing in common other than the military, and she wasn’t quite sure why she found herself drawn to him. She’d always imagined herself with some professor or university researcher, someone who said, “Why, yes of course,” when she started a sentence with, “Did you know?” And someone her parents would approve of. She didn’t think they would insist that she marry into the nobility, especially her father, who’d done work on genetics and believed “diversity” was healthy for a bloodline. But she was positive they would object to a soldier.

  Of course, Rysha did not plan to marry anytime soon. Or even bring someone home to meet her parents. She didn’t know why she was thinking about this. Because she’d liked touching Trip when he’d had his shirt off? It had admittedly been nice. He was all taut lean muscle and warm tan skin, and there was that intriguing sense of power that lurked underneath the surface, an odd juxtaposition to his usually mild-mannered disposition. And then there were those deep green eyes of his. They weren’t typical for Iskandians. Nor Cofah, for that matter. Sometimes, when she caught him looking at her, there seemed to be a charge in the air between them.

  Rysha rolled her eyes at herself, feeling like the horny teenagers she’d always scoffed at in school. Relationships should be formed based on rational thought and common interests, not hormones. She’d always believed that.

  Not that people couldn’t simply have sex without getting involved in relationships. Captain Kaika, she imagined, had operated with that philosophy for much of her life. Simply taking to bed men she was attracted to.

  But as she’d proven at the pirates’ tavern that morning, Rysha was not Captain Kaika.

  “Flammable?” Kaika propped her boot on a stump. “Is there a reason you’re making that observation, Dreyak?”

  Rysha jerked her mind back to the present, embarrassed she’d allowed herself to be distracted while they stood atop a cliff, overlooking the enemy fortress.

  “You have explosives, yes?” Dreyak asked. “They could be planted around the compound and detonated. I assume you have timers or a way to trigger them remotely.”

  “Yes, but then I risk blowing up the sword we want, along with a bunch of people that may or may not be criminals.”

  “They are on the Pirate Isles. They are criminals.”

  “They could be slaves.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “I’ve encountered it before.” Kaika shrugged. “I’m not ruling out your suggestion, mind you. It’s not what Zirkander asked us to do, but I doubt any of my higher ups would care if we destroyed a pirate fortress. We might even get a medal for it.”

  “I seek only to defeat evil in glorious and honorable battle,” Dreyak said, lifting his chin. “Not awards.”

  “How noble.”

  “Would we need to worry about retaliation from the pirates if we destroyed their whole fortress?” Rysha asked, though her mind shrank away from wantonly killing people, especially since Kaika had brought up the possibility of slaves. She would happily engage in a mission that involved capturing hundreds of pirates and taking them to Iskandia to stand for their crimes, but acting as judge and executioner out here? When their superiors hadn’t ordered it?

  “We’d have all of the Iskandian army behind us if they did retaliate,” Kaika said, “but we might be able to do it in such a way that they won’t know who hit them.”

  “The Iskandian army has a dragon problem it’s busy dealing with,” Rysha said.

  “I think my lieutenant is voting against utterly blowing up the fortress.”

  “Your lieutenant? Does the Iskandian army operate via a democracy?” Dreyak’s words dripped derision.

  Rysha wished once again that they’d brought Trip along in addition to him. Or instead of him.

  “No,” Kaika said, “but I like to listen to everyone’s input before making a decision.”

  “And have you made it yet?” Dreyak asked. “Your decision.”

  “You do have me contemplating explosives, I admit. I am fond of them.”

  “It’s best to meet a foe on the battlefield and look him in the eye as you bury your sword in his chest, but when it comes to pirates,
I will accept most ways of killing them.”

  “So glad to have your acceptance,” Kaika said. “All right, here’s the plan. I will sneak in, probably from the water—I’m so glad Tolemek finally made me those waterproof bombs I asked for a few years ago—and I’ll set explosives around the foundation. It’s hard to tell from here, but it looks like most of the structure is perched on posts in the water. That’ll make it vulnerable to properly placed explosives. I’ll set them on a timer, one I can easily disconnect if all goes well. While I’m doing this, you two will head inside and try to find the sword. It could be in the warehouse level that man told us about, but it sounds like the pirate king is more likely to be sleeping with it. Either way, you’ve got to find it. I’ll meet you on… the third floor, that dark platform in the back there, in… thirty minutes. See it? If you haven’t been able to get the sword by then, I’ll help you get it. If we get out without a problem, we can remove the countdown on the way out so the explosives don’t blow. If we’re captured or in a battle… the explosives will be a good distraction.”

  “The kind of distraction that engulfs you in an inferno?” Rysha asked.

  “I’ll try to set the right amount so it blows the foundation without engulfing the entire building in an inferno.”

  “So people will survive?” Dreyak sounded disappointed.

  “Possibly, but I definitely recommend that you avoid being on the bottom levels.”

  “What if that’s where the sword is?” Rysha asked.

  “Then I recommend you get it quickly and get out.”

  Rysha rubbed her head. She’d gone from worrying about their odds of surviving to worrying about how many bodies they might leave in their wake tonight.

  Pirate bodies, she reminded herself. And she’d signed on to protect her country from people like this, people who had a long history of preying on law-abiding citizens in Iskandia. There was nothing wrong with striking preemptively.