Maybe it would be better if he didn’t sleep. He had a number of scrap parts in his pocket. He could start working on that toy. Yes, crafting something simple and wholesome like a child’s toy would be a good way to focus his mind.
“You girls know how to get to your homes?” Blazer asked when the group reached the crossroads, the stone cairn that marked the spot visible even in the starlight. “Or to your families? Whatever you have waiting for you back in the city?”
A couple of women said yes. A couple more made less certain sounds. Trip was tired and wasn’t keeping his bank vault around his mind, so he sensed a few of their surface thoughts and got the feeling that at least one wasn’t a native and had been blindfolded for the trip here.
“I must return to the city,” Moe said, shuffling to the front of the group. “I can guide them.”
“I thought you might come with us, sir,” Blazer said.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“To help us finish our mission to aid Iskandia.”
“By finding a dead dragon? You’re fools if you believe Agarrenon Shivar is alive and that he would help you even if he was. You’d be better served going home now and finding saner ways to defend the country. Besides, I know very well what those winged pins on your uniforms mean.” Moe pointed at Blazer’s chest even though he couldn’t have seen her pin in the dark. “You’ve got some of those awful flying deathtraps nearby, I’m sure of it. I don’t go anywhere with pilots. Damnation, those contraptions will be the death of you all.”
“Perhaps he would not be the most suitable guide for a handful of girls,” Trip murmured to Blazer. He wouldn’t think Moe a particularly suitable guide for anyone. “Dreyak wants to go to the city. He’d be a good deterrent to highwaymen along the way.”
“He’s a weird thug who’s full of himself,” Blazer said.
“I fail to see how that makes him an inappropriate chaperone, ma’am,” Trip said.
“I don’t trust him.”
“A good reason not to insist he stay with us on our mission.”
Blazer started to respond, but a tinny voice came from her pocket. She dug out the communication crystal.
“Blazer, here.”
“It’s Leftie, ma’am. There are two of those boats now. I can see their running lights out there when the waves are just right. They’re watching the beach.”
“Is Dreyak still with you?”
“Of course I am here, Major Blazer,” the aloof Cofah-accented voice came over the crystal. “Did I not give you my word that I would guard your fliers until you returned?”
“You did, and we appreciate you doing it with such good cheer. Captain Trip has volunteered you for another assignment.”
“Assignment?” Dreyak asked coolly.
“Major,” Trip protested. “I just said—”
“He thinks you’re the perfect person to chaperone a bunch of teenage girls to the city.”
“Major,” Trip said again.
Even though he had more or less said that, he hadn’t meant her to give it to Dreyak as a command. The Cofah warrior irked him, and Trip didn’t trust him, but he also didn’t want to make an enemy of him. Even if Dreyak hadn’t admitted it, Trip had read between the lines that he was close to Prince Varlok and perhaps Emperor Salatak. He had no desire to rekindle a war between Iskandia and Cofahre by being rude.
“What, did you want to use your witchy ways to coerce him to obey?” Blazer held the crystal toward him. “Because I wouldn’t mind, given that he manipulated me.”
“Witchy ways?” Trip had a feeling she was irked because she’d been drawn to his aura along with the others. He made a note to figure out how to dampen that down even when he was drawing upon his power. “Surely, they were manly and magely ways.”
That is not a word, Telryn, Azarwrath said.
It’s a better word than witchy.
Is there no chance that we could visit the city, as well? I long for more cuisine comparable to what your grandmother cooked. It has been ages since we dined well.
That was the day before yesterday.
Ages.
Trip held a hand up toward Blazer, waving away the crystal. “Even if I wished to do such a thing, I don’t think I could do it over that.”
“Remote witching doesn’t work?”
A drawn-out sigh came from the crystal. “I’m coming. Where are you?”
“Take the path up the cliff,” Blazer said. “Then we’re a little over a mile to the south.”
“The path up the cliff,” Dreyak repeated. “That sounds like something fun to navigate in the dark.”
“I’ll go get him.” Trip tapped Azarwrath’s hilt. Either he could work on his magical illumination or the soulblades could light the way.
Powerful soulblades love it when their handlers use them as night lights, Jaxi informed him.
Trip headed down the path. Nobody followed him. He hadn’t asked for company, but he wondered if the others had realized he’d inadvertently affected them and felt similarly to Blazer. Did Rysha feel that way? That he’d manipulated her?
He knew he shouldn’t pester her and certainly shouldn’t try to read her thoughts, but he reached back, trying to get a sense of her emotional state. That wasn’t intrusive, was it? Had it been light out, he might have guessed that state by looking at her face.
When he brushed her thoughts, he got more than he intended. Rysha was thinking strongly about something, and a twinge of irritation from her almost made him jerk back, certain she had sensed his intrusion. But she was irritated with Blazer for not letting her strike a light while they were waiting so she could study a book she’d taken from the outpost. And she longed to take a good look at the rubbings, especially those that others had done. She hadn’t seen the original carvings for those.
He smiled and drew back, leaving her to her thoughts. By the time he returned, she would probably have found a way to sneak off to study her finds.
Trip decided to jog to meet Dreyak, both so he would spend less time by himself and with his thoughts, and to warm his body. The temperature had dropped significantly since the sun went down, leaving no hint of the scorching heat that had blasted the dry earth earlier in the day.
When he reached the top of the cliff, he spotted a torch on the path below and sensed Dreyak holding it. Out in the water, the boats Leftie had mentioned bobbed beyond the whitecaps. Four of them now. They were either massing for another attack, or they had been sent out to search for their missing comrades and had congregated here. On the beach below, the fliers hunkered in darkness, invisible to the naked eye. But the boat captains had to know they were there. Maybe they had some plan to sneak onto the beach after dark.
Trip considered the boats and tried to send his senses out toward them, searching for the crews and captains. The vessels bobbed at least a mile away, and he hadn’t spent much time testing his range yet. He’d sensed dragons that had been much farther away before, but dragons had much more powerful auras than humans.
Still, he soon located people aboard the boats, two on each one. The vessels were identical to the ones his team had battled earlier, sleek and fast with motors powered by… ah, interesting. Before, he’d been busy fighting and hadn’t noticed the energy crystals built into the boats, integrated with their engines. They weren’t exactly like the power crystals—the Referatu light fixtures—his people used in their fliers, but they were similar. He remembered the missing lamps in the dragon-rider outpost. Perhaps these people had heard of Iskandian fliers and figured out a similar system for their watercraft.
While he waited for Dreyak, Trip tried to read the thoughts of the closest of the captains, a stern older woman who kept glaring at the dark beach. His heart sank. They were planning to attack after dark, but they knew they had to be wary because their comrades hadn’t returned. They believed the Iskandians had found a way to destroy them. Right now, she was planning to, once two more boats arrived, to pretend to head north on patrol. Then, aft
er a couple of hours, they would return with their lights off and attempt to sneak up to the beach and capture the Iskandian craft. The fliers, and their power crystals, would go for a good price at the junk market, and she could pay back the oppressive loan that someone called The Torpedo had against her family.
Trip suspected his team would be ready to depart before the boats sneaked to the shore, so maybe there was no need to do anything. But if he could convince them to leave, wouldn’t that be safer?
He chewed on the inside of his cheek while debating whether that was true or if he was looking for an excuse to use his powers again. Had he liked that? More than he should have?
What do you two think? Trip asked.
About what? Jaxi asked, as Azarwrath gave a mental shrug.
Should I try to convince the captains to go back to port for the night?
You could, Azarwrath said. They are scheming against us.
I know. Were you not monitoring my thoughts?
I’ve been having more trouble with that lately, Jaxi told him. You’re getting better at your bank vault.
I concur, Azarwrath said. If we were to truly join through the old ceremony where handler and soulblade are officially bonded, I would likely sense your thoughts even through your defenses, as you would sense mine, but we have not done this.
I didn’t realize there was a ceremony. And that we hadn’t—weren’t bonded. It still seemed so odd to him that he, a pilot in the Iskandian army, would be bonded to a magical soulblade.
Yes. Both parties must wish it. You have not made it clear yet that you do. Azarwrath sounded oddly deferential, as if he was worried about presuming.
If anything, Trip wouldn’t want to be the one to foolishly presume something about a fifteen-hundred-year-old sorcerer’s soul.
You should probably make him master the fish page in the workbook before bonding with him, Jaxi said.
Azarwrath snorted.
Would Sardelle be able to perform the ceremony? Trip asked.
Likely so, Azarwrath said.
Then we should do it when we get back, if you’re willing.
Excellent. I am.
An image filled Trip’s mind of him standing atop some mountain, Azarwrath in his hand and glowing fiercely as they looked down upon armies that they commanded, all eyes turned up toward them. Had the men in those armies been clad in modern uniforms, Trip might have thought it a vision, but this seemed some fantasy coming from Azarwrath, perhaps based on his memories of the past. He remembered how the soulblade hadn’t wanted to bond with Kiadarsa, that he’d wished to be linked with someone more powerful. It continued to boggle Trip’s mind that he could be that person.
Order them to go, Azarwrath told him. Convince them that they won’t survive an encounter with Iskandian soldiers.
Trip hesitated, wondering if he wasn’t the only one who’d secretly liked the feeling of having power over people.
My megalomaniacal days are over. I will also inform you if you grow arrogant and full of yourself, as I’ve seen that happen often with sorcerers, usually to their own detriment. Even if there is nobody around as powerful as you are right now, there are others who could keep you in check. Don’t forget the chapaharii blades that you’re surrounded by.
I haven’t. I’ll attempt to rein in my budding arrogance. Trip remembered his thoughts of reprogramming Rysha’s sword and decided that he would definitely look into it. He liked the idea of there being checks to keep anyone from growing too powerful. Perhaps he could change the control words on all the swords so that only their handlers knew them.
Even if you are powerful among humans, you, too, could be easily turned into a kebab by a dragon.
Trip snorted. There’s that.
But do convince the captains to leave. You need the practice, and as I’ve been telling you, being able to manipulate people on these small levels can result in less bloodshed overall.
I understand.
Trip took a deep breath and focused on the vessels again, on the female captain. He shared images of the Iskandian fliers bearing down on her, machine guns firing, bullets finding a way into her cockpit and striking her.
He sensed her alarm, but her hand tightened on the wheel, and she tried to push the images away.
Go, he spoke into her mind. You will not best soldiers in the Iskandian army, especially those who travel with a sorcerer.
Speaking of arrogance, he felt like an utter fraud for calling himself that after a few evenings of training, but she licked her lips, growing even more nervous and worried. He presented an alternative to her, a comfortable bed and the safety of her home, if she simply left.
It worked. She turned the boat away. Trip repeated his efforts on the other captains. Perhaps because she’d already turned around, they were more easily swayed. Who wanted to be left out alone on a dark night with a sorcerer about?
“I see you’ve come into your powers,” Dreyak said, looking up at Trip as he climbed the last few steps to the top of the cliff. The torchlight showed wariness on his face.
Trip shrugged and did his best to dampen down his aura, suspecting Dreyak had sensed him using his power. “Just doing my best to convince those people they don’t want a fight. Especially since you left Leftie down there all by himself.”
“At your request, I understand.”
“You wanted to go to the city. I thought I’d suggest it so you would have your excuse. Blazer wasn’t planning to let you out of her sight. She doesn’t trust you.”
“You don’t trust me, either.”
“No, but I’ve seen enough of your thoughts to think that perhaps you were telling me the truth.” Trip narrowed his eyes at Dreyak. “I do hope you won’t make me regret that.”
Dreyak gazed toward the dark desert, the black shapes of the mountains visible against the starry backdrop. “I’ve told you no lies about my mission—you know what brought me here.”
Dreyak might not have lied, but Trip had no idea what he would do if he found Emperor Salatak. What if Dreyak had been wrong and the emperor was alive and healthy, not dead? Would he feel compelled to rescue him?
“I wish you luck with finding what you need to ensure your brother is officially appointed emperor,” Trip said honestly.
“Good.”
Trip snorted. Not exactly a thank-you. He did sense, however, that Dreyak believed Trip was telling the truth and didn’t intend to double-cross him.
Dreyak headed down the trail, holding the torch aloft, and Trip followed him.
Is there a way to perform magic without oozing power all over the place? he asked the soulblades, wondering if he would have to continue to worry about people sensing him drawing upon his power. And being oddly drawn to him because of it. After being the kid last picked for things his entire life, he didn’t think he would ever grow comfortable with people gazing raptly at him.
Oozing? Jaxi asked. It’s not a pus-filled pimple.
Indeed, Azarwrath said. You are radiating the magnificence of your soul.
Uh, right. How can I not do that?
Eventually, you should get to the point where you can quash your aura at the same time as you’re concentrating on magic, Azarwrath said. Until then, just make sure there aren’t any dragons around to sense you. Some of them find half-breeds an abomination and like to strike them down.
Lovely.
Dreyak stubbed his toe on a rock, then grunted. “Did you know you walked here in the dark?”
“I didn’t think about it.”
“Maybe you’re half wolf instead of half dragon.”
“Do dragons not see in the dark?”
“They probably do, but I’m joking. I’ve known other sorcerers with preternatural senses.”
“Joking?” Trip asked. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”
“I’m suave and entertaining when I wish it. I have no reason to be scintillating for Iskandians.”
Trip hadn’t noticed him being suave or entertaining with those Cof
ah in the Antarctic, but all he asked was, “You don’t have any preternatural senses?”
“No. As I’m sure you can tell, I’ve scarcely enough dragon blood to light a match with my mind.”
He’s being modest, right? Trip could now tell when he met people with dragon blood, but he didn’t think he could detect how much they had, having only encountered a few since he’d learned to sense people.
Somewhat, Jaxi said. But he is a lot of generations removed from his dragon ancestor. He’s actually been trained well to use what he has. It’s surprising that he can keep me from reading his thoughts.
“Fortunately, I have the supreme athletic prowess of a thousand generations of great Cofah warriors in my blood,” Dreyak said, his nose in the air.
For the first time, Trip sensed that some of that arrogance was a show, that Dreyak had grown up training with other future sorcerers and had felt lacking next to those with more potential. He’d worked hard to master swordsmanship, marksmanship, and unarmed combat skills, knowing he would have to stand out that way.
“I’d be more likely to believe that if you hadn’t stubbed your toe on a rock,” Trip said.
Dreyak glared back at him. “If you doubt my ability, I will gladly fight with you any time you wish. No swords, no magic.”
“As fun as that sounds, I’ve got something even more enjoyable for you to do tonight.”
“The chaperone mission?”
“Indeed. Five defenseless young women and an easily distracted seventy-year-old archaeologist need your help to safely return to the city. It’s a daunting mission, one few could accomplish, but I’m certain someone with a thousand generations of warriors in his blood can do it.”
“You should have used your magical power when you said that, if you’d actually wanted me to be swayed by your bullshit.”
“Does that mean you won’t do it?”
“I will do it, because neither young women nor old men should be left to navigate this desert or that city alone.”
Origins Page 17