“We need all the help we can get,” Angulus agreed, though he wasn’t sure he should encourage the idea of a girl fighting for them, or for anyone at all. True, men and women could enlist in the army at seventeen, but everything he’d heard about Tylie suggested she was the mental equivalent of a twelve-year-old after the years she had lost.
“Turning south to follow the mountains,” came General Ort’s voice over the communication crystal embedded into the flight stick in the cockpit. Angulus barely heard the words over the wind. “Keep an eye out. Captain Kaika thought she spotted something else flying out here—four o’clock and at a higher elevation than us.”
Angulus shifted in his seat, looking behind him and to the sides. Maybe he should have been watching the night sky all along. He hadn’t expected to encounter other aircraft in Iskandia, but perhaps that had been a mistake. Whoever those spies were, they had reached the inland Dandelion facility somehow, and it wasn’t the most accessible place.
After taking a look at the sky all around them, Zirkander tapped the communication crystal. “This is General Zirkander, Wolf Squadron,” he said, broadcasting wide. “If there’s another pilot out here snuggling up to the Ice Blades, identify yourself.”
All of the military craft had communication crystals now, and Angulus held his breath, waiting to hear if Zirkander would receive a response. There were some decommissioned and older model fliers that had gone into private collections before crystals had been installed, but he doubted barnstormers would be flying around at midnight.
“No response?” Angulus asked.
He didn’t know how the new crystals worked or what their range was, only that Sardelle had built them using her magic. That information had only come to light recently. Zirkander had originally convinced General Ort to have them installed, proclaiming they were some ancient artifacts that he’d found, and that if they were magic, he had no knowledge of it. Because they’d been so useful, people who feared magic had looked the other way and not asked too many questions, much as they didn’t openly question where the larger crystals that acted as power sources for the fliers had come from.
“Nothing, Sire,” Zirkander said.
“Hood your crystals,” General Ort said when nobody responded. “We’ll continue on course, unless His Highness objects, but we’ll watch the skies.”
Angulus nodded when Zirkander looked back. He didn’t want to risk showing more people to the facility, but until someone saw something more definitive, he didn’t want to risk a delay, either. He vowed to keep an eye out himself.
Zirkander pushed the hood over his crystal, and the soft light that it emitted disappeared. Angulus could barely see the cockpit in front of him. He couldn’t see Ort’s or Troskar’s fliers at all and wondered how Zirkander knew where to go. It was hard to hear the other craft over the sound of their own propeller.
They flew along in silence for a few more minutes, and none of the pilots reported seeing anything. Perhaps Kaika had been mistaken, or simply glimpsed some raptor out to hunt at night.
“Do you believe Sardelle will keep the information about the facility secret?” Angulus asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer. From the few conversations he’d had with her, she did not seem to be someone who would run around town, getting drunk and spilling secrets. She always came across as quiet and serene, something she had managed even when reporting on a powerful enemy sorceress approaching on a floating fortress.
“Absolutely,” Zirkander said without hesitation.
“And the sword?”
This time, Zirkander did hesitate. Angulus arched his eyebrows.
“Well, she doesn’t talk to that many people, Sire. Most Iskandians wouldn’t believe that she exists, even if she spoke into their minds. My mother, for example, doesn’t believe in witches, sentient swords, or anything to do with magic.”
“So she doesn’t know that Sardelle…”
“No, Sire.”
For a moment, Angulus was tickled by the idea of Mrs. Zirkander not knowing that her son’s lover was a sorceress. But he couldn’t let himself be distracted from a question that involved national security.
“Was that your way of saying the sword can’t be trusted to keep secrets?” Angulus asked. “Very few people know about this installation, Zirkander. We have advanced weapons research and experimentation going on.”
This was the Iskandian equivalent to the Cofah volcano base that Zirkander’s people had blown up, if on a smaller scale. Angulus’s scientists didn’t have dragon blood to power their weapons, but they were doing impressive work with rockets. Enough, he hoped, to keep the Cofah away from their coasts in the future.
“Oh, she’s trustworthy, Sire. It’s just that she’s also, uhm, blunt. She speaks her mind. Whether you want her to or not. But I don’t think this will be a problem. As far as I know, she only talks to Sardelle and occasionally to me and Tolemek.”
“Tolemek?” Angulus asked, a surge of alarm flooding his veins. He might have thought of one day adding the ex-pirate and ex-Cofah subject to the scientists working on the weapons, but he’d assumed that would be years in the future, after Tolemek had proven that he was done with his empire and would never think of betraying Iskandia. He’d only been here for a few months. It was too soon to know his true mind.
“Yes, because he has dragon blood, too, and she needed to help him back when Tolemek was keeping those pirates from blowing up the city.” Zirkander frowned over his shoulder toward the sky between the fliers and the mountains. When he went on, he sounded distracted. “Once Jaxi’s been in your mind, she tends to assume you’re friends and stick around. I’m positive she’ll talk to you when we get back if you ask Sardelle about it. Though I should warn you...” Zirkander shook his head and faced forward again. “She has no problem offering opinions on your love life while she’s sauntering through your thoughts.”
Angulus was looking toward the mountains, wondering if Zirkander had seen something, but he frowned back at him. “My love life? There’s not much to talk about there.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Angulus frowned. That Yes, Sire had sounded very careful. What did Zirkander think he knew?
“She actually wanted me to tell you—ah, never mind.” Zirkander coughed and stared intently forward.
“What?”
“Nothing, Sire. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Angulus considered dropping it—surely, they had more important things to dwell upon. But the idea that a sentient and telepathic sword had been monitoring him in some way disturbed him. He wanted to know if he had anything to worry about.
“I could give you a royal command and demand that you tell me,” Angulus said.
Zirkander slumped low in his cockpit, his shoulders sinking in defeat. “Are you doing that, Sire?”
Angulus sighed. If the man truly didn’t want to share, he shouldn’t make him. “No.”
Before he could decide if he wanted to continue the conversation, a shot rang out.
Zirkander sat up straight and looked in all directions. It hadn’t sounded that close, but Angulus did not think it had come from the dark foothills far below. He had heard it clearly over the buzz of the propellers.
“Who was that?” came Colonel Troskar’s voice over the crystal.
“I don’t know,” Ort growled, “but there’s a new bullet hole in the side of my flier.”
“Evasive maneuvers,” Zirkander said, taking them up and tilting them sideways so sharply that Angulus would have fallen out if he hadn’t been buckled in.
“I don’t see anyone,” Troskar said.
“You can count on him being behind us,” Zirkander said, taking them upside down as he now directed the flier back in the direction they had originally come from.
Though his heart was in his throat—more from the crazy flying than from being shot at—Angulus told himself that the harness would keep him secure. He clenched his legs around his pack, less certain about the securi
ty of the gear, and grabbed his rifle. He had to unbuckle it to get it out, and he stared up—or rather down—as they flew, trying to spot whoever had shot at them. Or more specifically, whoever had shot at Ort’s flier. Had the person expected Angulus to be with Ort? Or was he simply targeting the closest craft?
Zirkander ended his long loop, coming down far behind Troskar and Ort, who had parted ways and flown to the sides. He raked the dark sky with bullets, every fourth or fifth one an incendiary round that lit up the night with a streak of orange. If the ammunition hit anything, Angulus couldn’t tell. It would be the wildest luck, since they still couldn’t see anything.
“I was hit again,” Ort said. “From behind, I think. Stay down, Kaika.”
Her reply, though hard to hear since the crystal was in the cockpit, sounded something like, “To all the hells with that idea.”
Angulus winced. He knew she was a soldier, but he hated the idea of her being shot out here by some hidden sniper, especially if that sniper was expecting Angulus.
He raised his rifle, but he had no idea where to shoot. Zirkander was weaving and looping, trying different angles and planes as he fired experimentally into the dark night. Angulus’s stomach lurched with each gravity-defying movement.
“You’re wasting ammo, Ridge,” Troskar said.
“Only if I don’t hit someone. And that’s General Ridge to you, Chast. Didn’t you see my new hat?” Zirkander sounded excited by this action. He swooped again, this time turning them sideways as he angled up toward the stars.
“I did, but I was certain you’d stolen it from a secondhand store. That promotion can’t be real.”
They both sounded excited. Angulus had never even heard stolid and silent Colonel Troskar make a joke before now.
“Well, it’s always possible I’ll be demoted if I make the king throw up,” Zirkander said.
Angulus’s stomach protested another quick turn that nearly tilted them upside down again.
“Cut the chatter,” Ort said. “I just heard another shot. They’re definitely targeting me.”
“No,” Troskar said. “They’re targeting all of us. A bullet almost took my scarf off a second ago.”
“More than one shooter,” Zirkander said. “They’re being careful with their ammo. Either that, or someone’s using a sniper rifle instead of a machine gun.”
“Is it possible someone is shooting at us from the mountainside?” Angulus eyed the dark crags they had been following. They seemed too far away, especially if they were dealing with a stationary sniper with a single rifle, but he had a hard time judging distance with the flier gyrating like a drunken dancer. He bit his lip to keep from asking if the military actually paid Zirkander to do this. He was probably keeping them alive. This flier hadn’t been hit yet.
“Too far away,” Zirkander said. “And we’re five miles past the original spot now, even with our loops.”
How could he know? All Angulus saw were stars and dark blurs of mountains and land, depending on how upside down they were at any given moment.
“Hah,” Zirkander barked.
It took Angulus a second to see why. A small starburst of flames was burning. In the middle of the sky.
“What the—” he started to ask, but Zirkander unloaded rounds toward that spot.
Angulus’s ears couldn’t tell him if they struck anything, but then he saw another burst of flames, one of the incendiary bullets igniting something flammable. The scent of smoke tickled his nostrils, overpowering the gunpowder he could smell from their flier’s machine guns.
“See that smoke?” Zirkander asked. “Target it. We’ve got two fliers out here. Invisible.”
“Anyone want to tell me how that’s possible?” Ort growled, coming around.
“I’d be happy to discuss it in detail once the fight’s over, but I’m going to say magic right now.”
Their flier was about to pass the spot where Angulus had seen the flames. Zirkander was already banking to come back around and take another run at the invisible craft, but Angulus leaned over the side with his rifle. The flames had already burned out, and he couldn’t see much smoke in the darkness, but they were close enough that he was positive he could hear another propeller. He took his best guess and fired three times before they went too far for him to target the spot.
He did not expect to hit anything, or to be aware of it if he did hit something, but a man screamed, startling him.
“Nice shot, Sire,” Zirkander said, his voice subdued for the first time since the skirmish had begun, maybe because he was offering congratulations on possibly killing a man.
Angulus didn’t know how he felt about that himself. He had served in the military for several years in his early twenties, but nobody had ever entertained the notion of sending him out to Cofahre on a ship or dirigible, or even letting his unit wander off anywhere it might see real action. He’d signed plenty of orders that had condemned people to death, on both sides of the war, but he had never shot anyone.
“That one’s going down,” Zirkander announced. Angulus couldn’t guess how he knew for certain. “But there’s a second one out here. Don’t get cocky.” He muttered something else, the words too low for Angulus to pick up, but he thought he caught Sardelle’s name. Wishing they had some magic of their own out here?
Angulus wouldn’t have minded it, either. The idea of enemy aircraft more than a hundred miles inland was disturbing but not without precedent. Enemy magic was another matter.
“Nobody’s cockier than you, Ridge,” Troskar said. “We—”
A flaming orange ball the size of a steam wagon shot up from the ground, illuminating the night sky all around it. Before Angulus could start to guess how it had come to be and what it meant, it slammed into the belly of Colonel Troskar’s flier. Wood and bronze exploded like a bomb.
Angulus was so startled that his rifle almost tumbled free from his fingers. All he could do was gape at the sky where the other flier had been. Nothing but ash remained, clouding the air still burning from the fireball’s passing. No, there was one other thing that remained: the glowing yellow power crystal. Melted free from its casing, it fell a mile before disappearing into the trees far below.
Still gaping, Angulus watched its path. His mind refused to work, refused to grasp what had happened. Colonel Troskar and General Braksonoth had been there one second, and now were gone. Incinerated.
“Get me closer,” came Kaika’s shout through Ort’s communication crystal.
“No.” Ort sounded as dazed as Angulus felt. “We have to get the king out of here. This is—”
“Throw it, Kaika,” Zirkander ordered, his voice calm, devoid of all emotion now.
Angulus groped to find calm of his own, to kick his brain into function. He had handled emergencies before, but always from the detached safety of the castle, not from five thousand feet in the air while weaving and darting through the sky like a drunken hummingbird. And not while being fired at by... a sorcerer. Or sorceress. That was what it had to be. He remembered seeing fireballs being hurled at the fliers attacking the sky fortress, but they had been tiny blazes of light from his vantage point on the ground. This was—
“Three bombs away,” Kaika announced. “Tried to aim them toward wherever she is. Let’s see how well she attacks us with trees falling on her.”
“She?” Ort asked.
“Just assuming it’s the bitch from the fortress.”
“Look out, Ridge!” Ort yelled at the same time as Angulus was hurled sideways.
Once again, he would have been flung from the flier if not for his harness. How he managed to keep hold of his rifle, he didn’t know, but he clenched it—and the side of the seat well—as if his life depended on it.
The sky lit up from below, another orange fireball streaking upward—straight toward them. Zirkander had them flying on their side, veering away from it, but it moved as fast as a cannonball. It grew in Angulus’s vision, and it was even larger than he had realized. More like the
size of a house than a wagon. He felt the heat, heard the crackling of the flames. The orange light, writhing like fire in an oven, grew so intense that he had to squint his eyes shut, waiting for it to engulf him, for his life to end in pain.
Instead, the fireball raced past five meters away. The heat was enough to sear Angulus’s face, but it didn’t damage him or Zirkander’s dancing flier.
Faint booms sounded from below. Angulus forced himself to tear his gaze from the fireball as it continued to streak toward the stars. He looked down in time to watch one of Kaika’s bombs lighting up the dark forest. From this height, he had no idea if the explosives had hit anywhere near the person throwing those fireballs. Would it matter, even if they had? Angulus knew that Sardelle could shield herself from bullets. Wouldn’t this other sorceress be able to do the same?
“Keep an eye out,” Zirkander said. “It’s not tough to dodge those fireballs if you see them coming.” His voice dropped to a barely audible mutter. “Not that that helps Chast.”
“We’re getting out of here before she throws more,” Ort said. “Head south, Ridge.”
“Wait. There’s the other flier. A two-seater, just one pilot. He’s visible now. Your three o’clock.” The flier engine surged as Zirkander headed in that direction, the dark silhouette of the mountain range looming ahead.
“I’ll get him,” Ort said. “Get the king out of here, away from that witch and away from anything else.”
Zirkander did not respond to the command. He arrowed straight toward the mountains.
There was no telltale glow of an energy crystal—the dragon blood that powered the Cofah aircraft was more subtle—but Angulus could finally see the outline of the other craft, now that they were pointed straight at it. Zirkander flew toward it relentlessly, like a charging boar.
Angulus did not object. He didn’t want to flee like a coward. He raised his rifle, hoping he would get a chance to shoot the pilot, to kill the people responsible for Braksonoth’s and Troskar’s deaths.
Under the Ice Blades Page 5