Origins

by Lindsay Buroker

  “The men in the boats were the harbor’s equivalent of police officers. They were sent to make sure we didn’t land within a hundred miles of their city. They believed we—Iskandians—were here to scout on behalf of our government and that we had hostile intentions. One was convinced we’d come to try to take over the city and that we would turn it into an Iskandian territory.”

  “As if King Angulus would want anything here.” As Rysha gazed inland at the barren rocks, dusty flats, and the lifeless mountains in the distance, she couldn’t imagine anything except the hardy cactuses growing here. Had there been any ore in those mountains, Iskandia, or more likely the Cofah, would have taken over the continent long ago. The fact that they hadn’t suggested there wasn’t much there. “Regardless, I don’t think this fellow was part of the local enforcers. He was targeting you specifically.”

  “I saw. Thank you for protecting my back.”

  Their eyes met, and a warm tingle went through her. It shouldn’t have mattered, but she felt inordinately pleased that he had noticed.

  Trip crouched, his gaze drawn back to the man and the tip of something just visible on his bare, bloody chest. A tattoo? Or a brand?

  Trip pushed the loose wrap aside to reveal a brand in the shape of a dragon, its maw thrust upward, its tail curled toward the back of its head. Rysha hadn’t seen the symbol before.

  “Brotherhood of the Dragon,” she assumed.

  “You’re familiar with it?”

  “Not even vaguely.”

  “He said they want me dead?” Trip touched his own chest.

  “He did.”

  “This mission is turning out to be far different from what I imagined.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  8

  Trip kept his senses stretched outward as he followed Rysha, Blazer, Duck, and Kaika across the uneven rocks at the top of the cliffs. The trail they had followed up from the beach had seen so much use over the years—centuries?—that the stone was worn smooth. Even so, it wasn’t always easy to follow, as it blended into the surrounding rock in places. They realized that stacks of flat stones had been placed to mark the way and that they could find the trail again if they spotted a stack in the distance.

  Dreyak and Leftie were back with the fliers. Dreyak hadn’t been pleased about the assignment, making it clear that he had come to investigate the city, but he had agreed to stay until the others returned.

  “Are we sure this is the way to an outpost entrance?” Blazer asked. “And not just the trail to the city? Because I don’t particularly want to visit there. I’m feeling rather unwelcome at this point.”

  Trip had shared with the others what he’d learned—Jaxi had pried into some of the boatmen’s thoughts as they battled—that the attack vessels had been sent to keep Iskandians from scouting their city for possible takeover.

  “Up ahead, a trail branches off, a route that leads toward an entrance hole,” Trip said. “This trail does lead back to the city eventually, so we don’t want to miss that stub.”

  “I’m glad we brought plenty of provisions,” Blazer said, “but after about two days, we’ll need to find a water source.”

  Trip nodded. Since water weighed so much, it was rarely packed into the fliers in great quantities. “I’m sure we can sneak into the city at night if we have to.”

  “Just send Dreyak,” Duck said. “He’s oddly eager to visit the place.”

  “His mission is different from ours.” Trip thought about sharing what he’d learned of Dreyak’s mission, but didn’t think it would change anything for them.

  “Tell me about it,” Blazer grumbled.

  Rysha fell back to walk at Trip’s side. “Do you sense anyone else out here?” She nodded toward the rocks to either side of their trail. There were plenty of places that people could hide. “I’ve worried that other members of this brotherhood might be in the area. And angling for you.” She gave him a worried frown.

  Her concern touched him, as did the fact that she’d stayed on the beach, wanting to watch his back. He was relieved she’d been up on the clifftop by the time he’d considered creating a tidal wave—he still wasn’t sure how he’d done that, other than through sheer will—or he would have had to worry about protecting her. Was it odd to worry about protecting the person who was worrying about protecting him? Or was that how relationships went? He’d had so few that he had little experience.

  “I’m puzzled by that,” Trip admitted.

  “Puzzled by people wanting to kill you?” Blazer asked. “Doesn’t that happen often?”

  “It didn’t until I joined Wolf Squadron.”

  “Everyone in Cougar Squadron adored you?”

  Trip thought of Colonel Anchor. Definitely not. “No, they didn’t adore me, but they didn’t want to kill me. There’s a place in between those two extremes, I’ve observed.”

  “Yes, it’s called indifference,” Kaika said. “It sounds like your old squadron was indifferent to you.”

  “Is it wrong to miss those days?” Trip murmured to Rysha.

  She grinned at him and lifted a hand, as if to swat him, or maybe give him a reassuring pat. But out of nowhere, she frowned, her hand freezing. She glared at the sword on her hip, sighed at it, and lowered her hand.

  Trip thought about ordering the sword to stand down, but decided he should only override it in emergencies. Hand pats weren’t emergencies.

  “What I don’t understand,” Duck said, “is how someone knew Trip was coming. Or did they just sense those swords on him and know he was an enemy? Oh, there’s the trail.” He waved toward a cairn of rocks marking the turn.

  “I’ll keep my ears, eyes, and other senses open and hope for answers.” Trip thought of his grandmother’s memory and considered mentioning it, but he would prefer not to sound like a kook for implying he was some important being that people had been after for twenty-five years. Besides, it had sounded like whoever his mother had been worried about had wanted to steal him to raise, not to kill. Whatever she’d experienced probably had nothing to do with this brotherhood.

  Duck stopped when they reached the side trail. “Who’s going first?”

  “Trip and his senses,” Blazer said.

  Rysha frowned, as if she didn’t like him being volunteered to walk into danger, but Trip nodded. Even if he wasn’t in command, this was his mission.

  He slipped past the rest of the group and headed down the trail. The opening he had sensed was in the ground rather than in some raised mound of rock, as he had expected. It looked more like a well than a doorway. But the people he’d sensed before were in chambers under them—far under them—so going down made sense.

  There are a lot of people down there, Jaxi observed. Seventy-five? A hundred? I can’t get any hints as to what they’re thinking, but they all seem to be congregated in the same area.

  Maybe we can avoid it.

  Trip crouched at the edge of the hole. It was only four or five feet in diameter. An iron stake had been driven into the rock beside it, and a frayed rope descended into the darkness. It looked like it had been there for years. Or decades.

  He gripped it and lowered himself into the hole. He walked down the stone wall until he reached places where it curved inward, and he was forced to hang fully from the rope. Now and then, his pack bumped against the far side of the shaft. The sword scabbards threatened to tangle up in his legs, and he imagined them being pushed outward by condensed air. He felt sheepish for using magical power for that, but better than getting his legs caught and losing his grip.

  It’s good to practice exercises where you use small amounts of power with precision, Azarwrath told him.

  You only need to feel sheepish for using it to float your drink across the room and into your hand because you were too lazy to get up, Jaxi added.

  A sorcerer has no need to physically get his own beverage. Maybe Azarwrath had regularly floated beverages about.

  Other than to keep his leg muscles from atrophying
.

  Could we discuss this later? Trip peered over his shoulder, expecting to see some light soon. If there were people down here, wouldn’t they have lit lanterns? Or never, he added.

  Spoken like a man whose leg muscles will atrophy by the time he’s thirty, Jaxi said.

  Form a light of your own, Telryn, Azarwrath suggested. There are none lit in the immediate area.

  Trip thought about asking him to do it for him since he was concentrating on not falling, but he would feel puny making such a request after the tidal wave he’d created.

  He paused, willing a small bulb-shaped light into existence. He floated it down the shaft underneath him until it illuminated a pale yellow-tiled floor twenty feet below. The thick rope ended in a coil.

  Well done, Jaxi thought. Soon, you’ll be able to master the first page of the workbook.

  A flush warmed Trip’s cheeks. He wished the soulblades couldn’t witness him doing—struggling with—his homework. He’d figured out how to create an illusion of those fish appearing to have moved, but as soon as he stopped concentrating, the illusion disappeared, and the fish returned to their original position.

  The rope shivered as someone followed him down. Kaika.

  Trip hopped to the ground and moved out of the way. He floated his lightbulb up the shaft to help the others, focusing to keep it from disappearing as he gazed up and down the tunnel he found himself in. Hallway, he decided, not tunnel.

  When he’d been descending, he had imagined a cave system akin to something carved out by miners. However, in addition to the tiled floor, tiles covered the walls, each one holding a yellow and blue pattern faded by time. It was as if this had been the inside of an ancient palace rather than some remote outpost. Here and there, tiles had fallen—or been removed—but the pattern remained mostly intact. The ceiling wasn’t tiled, but it was as smooth as a table his grandfather had sanded numerous times. Occasional dark, square marks dotted the center, as if objects had once been mounted along the ceiling.

  I believe there used to be light fixtures there, Jaxi said. Similar to what we had in the Referatu stronghold in Galmok Mountain. And that are now used as your fliers’ power sources. I wonder what these people use them—or used them—for. They may have been removed centuries ago. I also wonder if this implies that this was an Iskandian dragon-rider outpost. As far as I know, the Cofah sorcerers never made anything quite like our lamps.

  “You’ve got an abstracted expression on your face, Captain,” Kaika said. She’d dropped down beside him and had spent less time studying the hallway.

  “Jaxi and I are discussing lamps.”

  “I always wondered what powerful sorcerers spent their days pondering.”

  Rysha joined them on the ground and promptly walked to the wall, rested a hand on a tile, and grinned. “These are Iskandian. Early Dinya Era. That marks this outpost as around three-thousand-five-hundred years old. Isn’t that fascinating? The Rider Wars were roughly two thousand years ago. That means Iskandia had a presence on this continent much earlier than originally thought. Actually, I don’t recall the textbooks mentioning a presence here at all. Though I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn we were here during the Rider Wars. I wonder how long we maintained troops and dragons here after that.”

  I guess that answers my question, Jaxi thought. It’s a shame Sardelle isn’t with us. I know she would have enjoyed exploring an old outpost, especially if some distant relatives might have manned it.

  Trip was more interested in not-so-distant relatives.

  “What’s fascinating is this blood.” Kaika had moved about a dozen paces down the hallway and now crouched by a dark spot on the floor. “Very fresh blood.”

  “You and I have very different ideas of what constitutes fascinating, ma’am,” Rysha said.

  “I’ve noticed. How many people did you say you shot, Lieutenant?”

  Blazer landed next to Trip, with Duck’s boots visible in the shaft above.

  “Two, I think,” Rysha said.

  “You think?”

  “I only saw two together at one time, but they wore identical clothing, those white robes I showed you.”

  In addition to the man who had died at Trip’s feet, Rysha had pointed out another body near the cliff and the trail. Trip had stopped to open the robe enough to see a brand identical in design and placement to that of the first. The man had died as soon as he’d been shot, a bullet to his brain.

  “It’s possible there was another person in the same clothing that got away before I reached the top.” Rysha grimaced, looking miserable at the thought of some perceived failing on her part.

  Trip thought about brushing her hand to reassure her, but the whole team was down there now, and he needed to worry about appearing—and being—professional. They were both soldiers. They could have a relationship off-duty, but not while they were in the middle of a mission. The day outside the hangar when they’d almost kissed… had been a mistake.

  “You did good to shoot two from where you were,” Kaika said. “Not your fault if you didn’t see them all, but we better hurry. If there was a third that got away, he could make trouble.” She gazed down the tunnel, her hand on her pistol.

  Neither she nor Rysha reached for the chapaharii swords. Despite glowing earlier, they didn’t appear to be on high alert now. Interesting, since Trip sensed residual magic emanating from the walls, from all around them. Maybe the weapons had figured out that whoever or whatever had imbued the outpost with power had moved on long ago.

  “You think we should stick together or split up?” Blazer pointed her thumb down the hallway in the opposite direction and raised her eyebrows at Kaika. Now that they had landed, she must have been willing to take advice from the more experienced ground officer.

  “Better stay together.” Kaika drew her pistol and headed in the direction she’d found the blood. “Trip’s probably only got one special glowy lightbulb.”

  Blazer grunted. “I’ve got a lantern in my pack.”

  “But is it special?”

  “It doesn’t float.” Blazer eyed the conjured light as she passed it. “Not sure that makes it less desirable.”

  The group headed down the hallway, soon coming to a large stairwell that spiraled downward in circles, appearing to descend fifteen or twenty levels. In addition, their hallway split, offering right and left options.

  Rysha trotted past the stairs to an empty pedestal. Whatever it had once held was gone, but she slid her hand over the surface, then lovingly touched tiles on its base, smaller tiles than the ones on the walls. These were green and blue and featured different patterns.

  “So beautiful,” she breathed. “Especially given their age.”

  “Let’s stay focused on what we’re looking for,” Blazer said.

  “Uhm, what are we looking for?” Duck asked.

  “Clues.” Blazer waved at Trip, as if that would explain everything.

  “What kind of clues?” Duck asked.

  “I’ll know them when I see them.” Rysha stepped back from the pedestal and looked at another one farther down one of the hallways, but she kept herself from running to inspect it. There were also doors in that direction, the wood remarkably preserved if it was original. “I believe we need to go down to find the dragon area,” she added, pointing down the stairwell.

  “The people I sense are down there,” Trip said.

  “In the dragon area?”

  “I don’t know. What would the dragon area look like?”

  “Probably some large, interconnected open spaces. They would lead to that ledge we saw from the outside.”

  That’s where the people are, Jaxi thought. In one of the large chambers down below. They’re all gathered there for some reason. I have no idea what they’re doing.

  Indeed, Azarwrath said. The magic continues to make it difficult to read minds and fully sense our surroundings. Some of the people seem to be agitated.

  They might have been warned about us—about me—by
now, Trip replied.

  I find the interest in you confusing.

  Tell me about it.

  “More blood on the stairs.” Kaika pointed down a few steps, then trotted down to investigate it. “Fresh. More than fresh. It’s still warm. Same person, I’m sure.”

  “I think we’re going to run into trouble if we go down there,” Trip said. “That’s where the larger chambers are, and it’s also where a bunch of people are.”

  “How many is a bunch?” Kaika rubbed her thumb on the side of her pistol.

  “Close to a hundred.”

  “Well, one of my bombs could put an end to that if they’re all in one chamber, but I suppose it’s not polite to invade a random continent and start blowing people up.”

  “Don’t the Cofah do that on a regular basis?” Duck asked, though he sounded appalled by the idea of bombing strangers.

  “Everyone here, and in the city, is descended from criminals that were put here for a good reason,” Blazer grumbled, sounding less appalled.

  “There were natives here before our ancestors and Dreyak’s ancestors started using the continent for penal colonies,” Rysha said. “Also, just because someone’s ancestors were criminals doesn’t mean they’re criminals.”

  “I agree that it would be unfair to judge someone on the basis of his ancestors,” Trip said, thinking how Agarrenon Shivar sounded less and less savory every time he heard something about him. A part of him wouldn’t mind turning around and forgetting this mission.

  Blazer lifted a hand. “I’m just grumpy because we were attacked on sight. I’m not truly suggesting we blow anyone up, at least not until we get to know them. Ravenwood, do you want to look around up here instead of riling up those people down there and getting us all shot at again?”

  Rysha hesitated.

  “They already know we’re here. Or they will soon. Unless we catch up to this fellow bleeding all over the place before he reaches the others.” Kaika raised her eyebrows.

  “That sounds like something you’re qualified to do,” Blazer told her. “Take Trip with you. The rest of us will look for clues up here. When you catch the person leaking blood, question him. These people might have more clues in their heads than there are lying around this place. Especially since everything except the doors and wall tiles has been looted. If you get discovered, try to lead your pursuers out of here. Then Ravenwood’s archaeologist brain can peruse the place while everyone is distracted.”