Do something, Jaxi ordered, frustration seeping into her words.
Trip sensed that she’d been trying, hurling magical attacks uselessly at the figures, figures protected by those swords. Kaika and Rysha were fighting well, but their weariness was obvious, and they each bled from a dozen wounds. Rysha’s spectacles were fogged from the steam her own heated body produced. Seven gods, could she even see?
The chapaharii swords will protect the constructs from magic but not from physical attacks, remember, Azarwrath said.
Of course. Trip should have remembered that earlier.
He released the orb, closed his eyes, and clenched his fists at his sides. Help me, he ordered the soulblades as he gathered his power.
His first thought was to bring down the ceiling atop the automatons, but that would endanger them all.
Get ready to turn and sprint for the tunnel, Trip said, speaking into Rysha’s and Kaika’s minds. He had to trust they heard him because they were too busy fighting for their lives to acknowledge the words.
He spotted all the broken stalactites, huge megaton chunks of rock, that had crashed down into the pool. He willed them to lift into the air all at once, refusing to feel daunted by their incredible weight. If he failed at this, Rysha might die.
The soulblades poured their energy into him, helping him lift all the broken rock formations at once, then pushing them together into one huge mass of rock. He floated it up as high as the ceiling allowed, then over toward the fight.
Kaika glanced up, spotting them. “Now!” she yelled.
She and Rysha flung final blows at the two automatons, trying to drive them back, then turned and sprinted for the tunnel. Leftie and Duck stepped out and threw grenades at their foes. The automatons did not pause. They started to run after the women.
Trip released the broken stalactites. More than that, he hurled them downward with all the force he could muster. The grenades exploded just before the rocks landed, but the noise was abruptly muffled as tons and tons of rock slammed down atop the two figures.
Trip trembled in the aftermath of drawing upon so much power and leaned against the orb’s pedestal for support. He searched through the rubble with his mind. Had it been enough to destroy the automatons? To bury them?
Long seconds passed, and he didn’t sense any movement underneath the rocks.
Finally, he allowed himself to slump to his knees, his head against the cool stone pedestal. He was exhausted from his efforts. Exhausted from everything.
• • • • •
Though Rysha’s entire body ached, and warm blood made her clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin, she forced herself to walk back into the cavern. Around the massive pile of rocks that had smashed the two automatons, destroying them forever, she hoped.
As she continued past them, toward the tunnel of the pyramid, she decided there was some justice in knowing the stalactites the construct chasing her had broken had been used against it in the end.
“Those dead too?” Kaika asked warily, limping behind her and looking at the pyramid bases.
They had stopped moving. Rysha hoped that meant Trip had done something, and she also hoped nothing had happened to him inside the stone pyramid. That he was all right. He must be. He’d surely been the one to bring those rocks down. She remembered his warning in her mind.
“I hope so,” Rysha whispered.
“Is Trip still inside there? We need his help with Blazer.”
“I know. Have the others carry her into the pyramid, in case he’s been injured too.”
It felt wrong to give orders to a superior officer, but Kaika nodded and dropped back without complaint.
Dorfindral continued to glow as Rysha strode into the tunnel, and she wondered what she would find inside. A dragon? Tons of magical booby traps? So long as Trip was in there, she could deal with the rest.
After passing numerous disturbing wall paintings, Rysha entered a light-filled chamber. She noted stone tables and artifacts, places where the ceiling had broken away, huge chunks of rock having slammed down atop the furnishings. She ignored it all for now, though perhaps later there would be time for a better look.
“Trip?” she asked warily, not seeing him in the front half of the chamber.
She ran up to a platform overlooking a glass enclosure. The giant bones inside made her pause. Not just bones. An entire skeleton. Was this the dragon they’d come for?
“Back here,” came Trip’s soft voice from the other side of the enclosure.
Rysha could see him through the glass, his back to her as he looked down at something. She squeezed between the wall and the side of the giant glass enclosure to reach the cramped spot where he stood, the back half of the platform.
“Are you all right?” Rysha asked, easing around the back corner of the enclosure.
Trip still had his back to her as he stood, his chin propped on his fist, gazing down at what looked like a bunch of metal wine barrels sawed in half. Several of the lids were open, nothing but dust inside. Other lids remained down, but they were semi-opaque. She was able to make out indistinct shapes inside, but couldn’t identify them from where she stood. A soft hum came from the barrels as a whole, as if they generated electricity. Some kind of bronze-plated wiring that appeared very old linked them all together.
“Me?” Trip finally looked over, his gaze traveling over her from head to toe. He winced, his expression sympathetic, as he spread an inviting arm. “I’m not the one who fought the battle of her life. I can heal you if you set Dorfindral aside.”
More worried about him than about being healed, Rysha hurried forward as quickly as her aching body would permit, wanting the hug he offered, wanting to collapse against him for support.
He shifted to wrap both arms around her as she leaned into his chest. His hand came up, resting on the back of her head, and she pressed her face into his shoulder. Tears threatened, even though there was no logical reason for them. They had won. But then she thought of the dragon bones and realized they hadn’t succeeded in their mission. They had at least survived. Maybe her tears simply denoted exhaustion.
“What’s in the barrels?” she asked, her mind curious even if her body wanted to do nothing but slump against his.
“Babies.”
She leaned back to look in his eyes, suspecting him of a joke or inadvertently giving some creative interpretation of the word.
“And pups,” he added, his expression without humor. “And kits. And whatever baby lizard… things are called. I don’t think any of them are dragons, not full dragons. They’re all his offspring, but from matings with other creatures. And humans. Some of the stasis chambers in the front were opened—that’s where those bats came from, I think. Some of the other chambers failed over the years, and their occupants withered and died. How horrific if they woke for any part of that and were aware of being trapped inside.” Trip closed his eyes, then added, in a softer tone, “The human babies are in the last row. One of the stasis chambers back there was opened, not broken. It’s empty.”
His lids lifted, and he gazed into Rysha’s eyes. She had the feeling he expected her to twig to something.
Maybe her brain was too tired after that battle, but she found this whole situation confusing. She pulled away from him to walk to the edge of the platform and peer into the barrels herself.
The voices of Kaika, Duck, and Leftie drifted to them from the other side of the chamber. Rysha needed to ask Trip to check on Blazer, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from the barrels. The stasis chambers, she realized. And the babies inside. As Trip had said. The young of several species, frozen there in time—and in a gelatinous-looking substance exactly like what had held the dragons they’d found imprisoned in the Antarctic. Each individual half-barrel had a small plaque on the side. They reminded her of the plaques that had been beside the alcoves in the dragon prison, the controls for letting the occupants out of their cells. Would Trip’s hand be able to open these? As he had opened those? If it
could, what then?
Rysha’s gaze was drawn to the row that held the human babies. There were eight of them, ranging in age from a couple of months to roughly a year.
“But why would babies have been imprisoned?” she whispered.
Trip’s eyes were closed again, and he did not answer.
Rysha looked to the wall behind the collection of barrels—miniature stasis chambers. Words had been carved into the ancient stones, so precise and even that she felt certain that magic had done it rather than a human hand. Which made sense since the words were Middle Dragon Script. Dragons, with their genetic memories, hadn’t written much down, but as she read, she realized this message had been meant for the future, an uncertain future. The person—or dragon—who’d left the words there hadn’t known who would read them.
“I see,” she said slowly.
“Do you?” Trip’s eyes opened, and he also gazed at the words. “I got a vision from the orb that somewhat explained this, but I can’t read that.”
“It basically says that Agarrenon Shivar was afflicted with a disease that the dragons didn’t understand or know how to cure. He’d been infecting other dragons he came in contact with, so the elders decided to lock him in this stasis chamber until, they hoped, some dragon or human would know how to cure him. They could heal Agarrenon Shivar and remove him from stasis.”
“That much I know,” Trip said.
“Since they weren’t sure what the world would be like when Agarrenon Shivar woke again, they left his offspring here to renew his cult and attend to his needs.” Rysha’s lip curled at the suggestion that the dragon had started the cult rather than it having been something that developed after his passing—his disappearance into hibernation.
“I got the feeling that the other dragons might have wanted an excuse to get rid of Agarrenon Shivar’s offspring,” Trip said. “And that this was a way to do it without murdering them. Agarrenon Shivar was apparently fecund, but rarely with other dragons.”
“That’s horrible.” Rysha’s gaze shifted to the empty barrel in the back, the one in the human row, and she rocked back on her heels as understanding struck her. “Seven gods,” she whispered, meeting his eyes. “This means…”
“The woman I always believed was my mother wasn’t, not by blood. And I was born thousands of years ago and slept in a box until she unlocked it.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.
Rysha couldn’t believe he didn’t care and wasn’t dumbfounded. Maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe he was in shock. She couldn’t imagine how she would feel if she found out her parents weren’t truly her parents. And the rest… If she hadn’t been standing here, looking at the proof, she never would have believed this story.
“I don’t know what to do,” Trip whispered, some of his flat facade cracking. “I can’t leave them here. They’re my kin. Even the animals.” He winced. “What do I do, Rysha?”
He was asking her? She couldn’t begin to grasp all this, and she didn’t know a thing about motherhood and raising children. But she agreed with Trip that they couldn’t simply leave them here for the next set of treasure hunters to discover, especially now that she and Kaika had cleared the way into the cave system.
“I believe someone pursued my mother at one point,” Trip said, “because he or she or they wanted me for their own purposes. My grandmother believes that, I should say, based on the circumstances of my mother’s arrival at home. That was twenty-five years ago. I don’t know if that person is still out there, but there are many people who, if they found out about these… half-dragon babies, might want to use them for their power. Power that they will have. If someone started teaching them to use it at a young age…”
Rysha nodded. “They could be very powerful before they’re even full adults. I understand. I guess taking them back to Iskandia and asking Sardelle would be the way to go. She’s the only one around from a culture that understood magic and was surrounded by it. I’m sure she’ll be as daunted by this as I feel right now, but I think she’d be the one to ask.”
“Yes, I agree.”
“But wait. Can we? The dragon was afflicted with some disease. Is there a way to tell if the young are?” She frowned at the barrels and then at Trip again. “You clearly didn’t die as a baby.”
“Jaxi says they aren’t. She ran into the disease when dealing with Phelistoth so she would recognize it. She was surprised, because she figured they would have been infected if they were in proximity to Agarrenon Shivar, but maybe they weren’t brought close to him until after he was already locked up. Though I wonder what the parents—the mothers—were told. I think I saw one of the mothers in the vision, maybe even mine.” Trip lifted a shoulder and smiled faintly. “She was an engineer. She seemed to believe her baby had been infected. If she didn’t have dragon blood of her own, then she wouldn’t have had a way to know, I suppose. I don’t know. I find this all…” He closed his eyes again.
Yes, he looked shocked. Rysha returned to his side and slipped her arm around his waist. They leaned against each other, both of them needing support this time.
“You two back here?” came Kaika’s voice as she walked between the wall and the glass enclosure. “This place is even creepier than the outpost. Did you see those rusty torture tools? And those paintings? If these people weren’t having orgies—nothing wrong with orgies, mind you—they were sacrificing people and doing weird rituals with—damn, I don’t even know what those wall paintings over on that side represent.” She waved past the enclosure.
Trip didn’t move or seem like he wanted to answer. Maybe Rysha wouldn’t either. They would just stand there until they regained some energy and figured out what to do.
“Uh, this isn’t the dragon we came to recruit, is it?” came Blazer’s voice, also from the side of the enclosure. “Because he doesn’t look like he’s in a position to be real helpful right now.”
Rysha turned and stared at her, surprised she had walked in of her own accord. And also surprised she didn’t sound hurt.
“I could heal you too,” Trip murmured to her, “if you would take your sword off.”
“Oh,” she said, understanding dawning on her. He’d healed Blazer without even touching her? “You’re getting much better at that.”
“She was lucky she left her pack with that ingot in it outside, or I wouldn’t have been able to help her so quickly.”
Rysha unfastened Dorfindral’s scabbard, set it down, and found Trip’s hand and squeezed it. Some of his healing warmth flowed into her, easing the aches that plagued her.
“We wouldn’t want that dragon,” Kaika told Blazer. “He was a sick freak. And the humans who followed him were sick freaks. Trip, if that was your papa, you better look into adoption. Maybe we can find you a new papa.”
Rysha leaned against Trip’s chest again and looked at his face, worried the words would upset him. Upset him further.
But Trip only snorted. “General Zirkander let me go fishing with him.”
“There you go.” Kaika pointed at him. “You can adopt Zirkander. Or vice versa. I bet he’d like that. You’re probably one of the more normal beings to come visit his house lately.”
“Did you just call me normal, ma’am?”
“In comparison to Zirkander’s other house guests, you’re a paragon of normalness.”
Trip smiled, appearing pleased by this encomium.
“Compared to other people, you’re odd,” Kaika said.
The addendum didn’t dent Trip’s smile.
“Lieutenant Ravenwood likes odd boys,” he said, smiling shyly at her.
Rysha thought his flier might have lost a few screws after the battering of revelations he’d endured, but she patted his chest and smiled back.
“Yes, because she’s odd too,” Kaika said.
“Should we be insulted that someone whose hobby is fondling bombs is calling us odd?” Rysha asked Trip.
Very insulted, Jaxi spoke into their minds. Strangely, the interruption no longer star
tled Rysha. You should punish her with your dragonly powers, Trip.
Punish her? Trip asked, speaking telepathically.
By doing something dire. Like giving her a rash on her nether regions. It would be good practice for when you encounter enemies that you want to incapacitate without killing.
It sounds like an unkind thing to do to a superior officer, Trip thought.
It may also be against regulations, Rysha thought, trusting these magical beings would hear her response.
There can’t possibly be an army regulation covering nether-region rashes, Jaxi informed them.
“Are you two talking to each other telepathically?” Kaika squinted at them.
“Jaxi is suggesting someone give you a rash, ma’am,” Trip said politely.
“Jaxi.” Kaika frowned at the scabbard hanging from his hip. “I was joking when I said I’d throw you into a volcano if you didn’t help with the crazy pyramid machines.”
Rysha arched her eyebrows. She hadn’t heard that threat. It had either been a silent one or it had occurred while she’d been dodging through the pool.
“I don’t think there are any volcanoes on this continent,” Kaika added.
Leftie and Duck, who had been pointing at and discussing the dragon bones, joined the group.
Leftie walked over and thumped Trip on the shoulder. “Glad you could help with those weird magic things.” He waved toward the front of the pyramid and the jumble of rocks outside.
Trip nodded.
Rysha hoped that had been a thump of acceptance, maybe even an apology for his earlier blowup. She didn’t think Leftie was the kind of person to actually voice apologies.
“Uh,” Duck said, peering over the edge of the platform. “Where did all these babies come from?”
Trip sighed. “It’s a long story.”
26
Blazer folded her arms and watched as the steam-powered locomotive Trip had made rolled away from the pool. Since there was no magic about it, it operated in the magic dead zone. The team had just attached the last flier, the one Duck had landed in the pool, to its little train of fliers. The machine tugged it out of the water.
Origins Page 33