Beginnings: Five Heroic Fantasy Adventure Novels

by Lindsay Buroker

  “He wouldn’t?” Ridge squashed irritation at the captain. Heriton was just doing his job, however annoying certain aspects of that job were at the moment. “I apologize for that. What did you want to see me about?”

  “I believe I’ve found the location of your flier, and I think I can help you find something else too.” She glanced toward a pair of miners heading out of a tram cage and toward the mess hall. “You might wish to discuss it in private. And I need some light to show you on the map.” She held up the atlas he had sent her.

  “The furnace should still be warm in my office.”

  “I’ll follow you. I’m fairly certain the captain won’t deny you entrance.”

  “I should hope not.”

  Heriton had left for the day, so nobody charged out to deny anything. Ridge was relieved. He knew he would get more concerned looks if the captain saw him taking Sardelle up to his office. Ridge had been too busy working and watching the skies for returning Cofar ships to worry about rumors and gossip during the day, but he didn’t doubt that word of his night spent alone in the cave with Sardelle would have gotten around and that Heriton would have heard. The captain had made it clear that while he respected Ridge very much, yes, sir, he suspected Sardelle was a witch who had put a hex on him, something to make him sympathetic to her cause. Whatever that was. Maybe he was about to find out. He doubted she had spent the whole day researching flier crashes.

  Ridge stepped inside the office and turned up a couple of lamps. He thought about inviting her to sit with him on the couch—perhaps doing more than sitting—but she went straight to business, laying the atlas out on his desk and opening it to a page she had dog-eared. She had circled and X-ed a spot on the southern side of the mountain. “It’s been exposed to the elements on the top of a cliff for ten years, so I don’t know if there’s hope for making it flight-worthy again, but you can check at least.”

  “Yes, I’ll send out a team.” And hope there were no owls haunting that side of the mountain. “Thank you. And there was something else?”

  “Yes.” Sardelle had pushed back the hood of her parka, and her black hair tumbled around the silvery fox fur rim, making for an eye-catching contrast. She looked around the office. “May I see the mine map again?”

  Ridge pulled it out from behind the bookcase. While he spread it out, Sardelle grabbed a pen out of a drawer.

  “You’re going to mark up the official copy?” he asked.

  “With likely locations of crystals, if that’s all right?”

  His breath caught. She couldn’t possibly know, could she? With the mine producing so few of them, getting them back from crashed fliers was always paramount, and every time one went missing meant a reprimand on someone’s record, even if the pilot had been facing overwhelming odds. Ridge had heard rumors that there weren’t any left in the king’s vaults. He couldn’t let that information out, though, not to Sardelle, not to anyone who might repeat it.

  “So long as it’s not graffiti,” Ridge said, making his voice casual.

  “I’ll try to restrain my doodling tendencies.”

  Sardelle bent, one hand on the map and one holding the pen. Ridge held his breath. She marked an X, then another, and a few more. “These are approximate, of course, based on my studies of the Referatu. The maps I’ve seen were from before the mountain was bombed.”

  Ridge, noticing his mouth was dangling open, snapped it shut. “Where and when did you study these people so closely?” And how could she know so much about the history of an area owned and operated by the government when he had known so little? Though he supposed the military had only been mining here for fifty years or so. Before that, perhaps someone else had been doing research? He had no idea, in truth. Maybe he needed to spend some time in the library. “I can’t imagine it was during your days as a pirate.”

  “No.”

  “I only mention this because Heriton found your record.” Ridge pulled the folder out of a drawer. “It actually confirms the story you were telling the other day, if you can imagine that.”

  Sardelle didn’t appear surprised or uncertain in the least. She gave him that serene smile and said, “I must be more honest than I sound.”

  “I think not.” Ridge suspected she had planted the record. If she could sneak in and out of the guarded fort and the guarded mines, the archives room wouldn’t present that much of a challenge.

  She spread her hands. “There are a lot more crystals off the edge here. I can point more out to you if you have another map of the other half of the mountain, but maybe you want to see if you can verify these first.”

  Ridge tossed the folder back into the drawer and studied all the Xs she had made. Eight. If he found crystals in half of those locations, he would probably get an award when he got back home.

  “I would have told you sooner, if I had known what you were looking for,” Sardelle said. “It was only when I was digging around in the library that I came across the information.”

  “And what are you looking for?” Ridge gazed into her eyes. “While I appreciate all this assistance, especially if something comes of it, I’m quite certain you didn’t come here for me.”

  “What brought me here was largely an accident.”

  “But you’re searching for something. Nobody stays here without a purpose.”

  “No,” she murmured, gazing at the dark night beyond the window.

  Ridge thought about taking her hand, but clasped his hands behind his back instead. This was a professional discussion, not anything else. Though maybe she could be teased into sharing more if he confessed the times he had considered finding creative ways to extract information from her. “I knew I should have tried my seduction plan.”

  That pulled her attention back to him. She raised an elegant eyebrow and murmured, “Hm?”

  “At one point, it crossed my mind that you might be here to seduce me. Then I decided you weren’t and thought perhaps I should attempt to seduce you, so I could learn your innermost secrets. But I was afraid I lacked the sexual allure and charisma for the task.”

  Her lips curved upward. “The deceit required for the task, more likely.”

  “So my allure is fine?” Ridge wiggled his eyebrows.

  “It’s quite nice.”

  “Good to know.” He tapped a finger on the freshly marked map. “I am going to keep trying to wheedle the information out of you until you relent. I hope that fact won’t damage my allure overmuch.”

  “So long as you keep delivering me coffee in the mornings.”

  “Any particular care over which of these Xs we mine toward first?”

  Sardelle pointed at two in close proximity. Interesting. They were down deep and not particularly close to the shaft where she had supposedly been discovered wandering.

  “If you tell me what you’re looking for… ” Ridge started, though he wasn’t quite sure where he was going with the offer.

  “You’ll help me find it?” she asked, her tone dry. She must understand that the military considered all of this their property and anything found within the mountain theirs.

  Ridge licked his lips. He had to be careful. To promise anything that hinted of treason… he couldn’t do that. But if she could truly help him find crystals, and what she wanted lacked in military significance, then what would it matter if he never mentioned it in his reports? He closed his eyes. The thought of withholding information from his superiors made him uncomfortable. But maybe he didn’t have to withhold it. The crystals were of paramount importance. He would be justified in trading something valuable for them.

  “Though I fully acknowledge that what’s in that mountain isn’t mine to trade, I think I could make it work for my reports if I received crystals in exchange for something else. So long as it’s not some huge ancient weapon that will be used to destroy the continent.”

  “This is my homeland too. I wouldn’t do anything to harm it.”

  He believed her. And it sent a wave of relief through him. “G
ood.”

  Sardelle studied the map, or maybe the floor at her feet, or maybe nothing. Ridge felt her debating with herself and didn’t say anything. He had already pushed enough. If she didn’t—couldn’t—trust him, he understood. He had suspected from the beginning that they were on conflicting sides.

  Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes. “It’s a sword.”

  “A sword?”

  “A six-hundred-year-old Referatu soulblade.”

  9

  Sardelle had known it would get colder, but she wasn’t ready for how much colder. Now she understood why her people had put their homes inside the mountain instead of on it. If they had been less feared, maybe they wouldn’t have had to use such a remote part of the world, but relationships with mundanes had always seemed to work better with separation. Until that didn’t work anymore either.

  Sardelle sipped from a coffee mug—she had another mug in her hand, a cover over it in a vain attempt to keep it from chilling—and watched as Ridge and his engineer friend worked on the rusted flying machine now residing in the center of the courtyard, its dragon “feet” perched near the frozen stream. There wasn’t a building large enough to house it, and there wasn’t room to work on it anywhere else. Just getting it here had been a gargantuan chore, she understood. It had come in pieces, pulled around and across the mountain in stages by strange machines the engineer had said were usually used in the logging industry. Whatever route it had taken, it was here now, and the miners, soldiers, and even the women working the laundry room were taking bets as to whether it would ever fly again. Given the amount of snow that had fallen overnight—there were at least nine new inches blanketing its metallic carapace and wings—Sardelle wasn’t even sure it would be able to remain standing upright through the day.

  Like everyone else working up top, she checked the sky often. It had been nearly three weeks since the encounter with the airship and the owl. She wanted to believe the Cofah had forgotten about the fort and had gone home, but she suspected they were still out there. Ridge thought so, too, and there was an urgency about the way he worked on the flier, as if the small one-man craft could stave off an attack from an airship that claimed a sorcerer among its passengers. He said they had the cold and the snow to thank for the peaceful days, citing airships’ sensitivity to changing weather conditions and thin air, but Sardelle wondered if the other sorcerer had sensed her somehow, and if they were acting more warily because of her presence. She would have preferred to be a surprise, someone to lie in wait if needed, especially since she couldn’t reveal to her allies that she had powers. She wasn’t all that certain she was a match for this jungle shaman anyway. Maybe once she had Jaxi…

  Ridge had ordered new tunnels opened in the directions she had indicated, and they had already found three crystals. It was the reason she was allowed to stand around, drinking coffee and watching the men work, even though she had run out of days off some time ago. It was also the reason Ridge had a bounce to his step, she assumed. Or maybe that was because he was working on a flier, however rusted and dilapidated. She knew it didn’t have anything to do with bedroom exploits, since she hadn’t been invited up to his room for any of those. Not that she had expected it here in the fort, where she was under scrutiny from Captain Heriton and several others—she hadn’t had to use her mental faculties to catch whispered gossip going around about her. Ridge himself must be under scrutiny from associating with her too. No, she hadn’t been expecting exploits, but she did miss them. At the least, it would be enjoyable to try bedroom activities with an actual bed. The lumpy, rocky cave had made things a little awkward, though she had found the experience quite enjoyable. The memory could still cause her to smile into her coffee.

  “Morning,” Ridge said, ambling over in his full parka, fur cap, and mittens, all three smeared with grease. For a pilot, he definitely had a hands-on approach to flier repairs.

  Sardelle tamped down the urge to wipe off a smear on his nose. Even though it was snowing again—or maybe it was still snowing, as she couldn’t remember the last time it had stopped for more than five minutes—there were people in the courtyard, miners tramping off to work and soldiers in the middle of shift changes. “Good morning, Colonel.” She handed him the second mug. “How is the progress?”

  This had become a ritual, her showing up with coffee, asking after his progress, and him spending a few minutes chatting with her about it. Just because he wasn’t sending her invitations for midnight trysts didn’t mean he didn’t care, or wouldn’t like to send those invitations. In the meantime, he smiled and chatted amiably with her, and despite the frozen courtyard setting and the walls of cannons surrounding them, she had come to find a comfortable familiarity in the daily sharing of their morning coffee. She looked forward to it.

  “With the flier, about the same. We’re building an engine from scratch from scrap parts pillaged from around the fort. I swear Captain Bosmont was eyeing the cook’s metal pans this morning in the mess.” Ridge removed the cover on his coffee and took a big gulp. “The miners also found another crystal last night.” He beamed at her, and Sardelle melted a little inside at his obvious pleasure. “That makes four. I won’t need to worry so much about testing the flier now.”

  “Because you’ll need to borrow one of the crystals for it?” It still floored her that these people were using three-hundred-year-old lamps to power their flying machines.

  “Because this pile of wings and rust might fall out of the sky and plunge to the bottom of a canyon on its test run. It would be difficult for anyone to retrieve the crystal then.”

  Sardelle blinked at him. She knew it was questionable whether they would actually be able to get the flier in the air, but had assumed they would know if it was feasible before risking their lives. “And its pilot as well?”

  “Well, I’m not sure they would bother going down to scrape his pulverized bones off the rocks. But the crystal, that’s valuable.” Amazingly, he smirked as he described this scenario. He had to be joking.

  “You’re a unique individual, Ridge Zirkander,” Sardelle murmured. She didn’t use his first name when anyone was close enough to hear, but believed the snow would insulate their voices from those crossing to the trams behind them.

  “I’ve heard that a lot in my life, though usually with cursing rather than fond smiles. You must be unique yourself.”

  Sardelle smiled into her cup again. “I think you’ve already figured that out.”

  He grunted. “I still haven’t figured out much about you. No signs of swords down there yet. Do you think we’re close?”

  Sardelle shook her head. Though she had relented and told Ridge what she sought, she hadn’t plotted a direct shaft to it on his map. So long as the miners, with their powerful explosives and constant shoring up and supporting of the tunnels they built, got close, she should be able to drill the rest of the way in.

  “If the men do find it, will it look like anything other than a sword?” Ridge hadn’t asked much about it when she had revealed it as the item she sought; if anything, he had surprised her with his lack of surprise, but she supposed it fit with this relic-hunting archaeologist persona he had constructed for her. “Will it… it won’t be a danger to them, will it? Burn them if they touch it or something like that?”

  “Of course not.” Sardelle lost her smile. “The Referatu weren’t evil.”

  “Uh huh, that’s not what the history books say.” Ridge frowned as well, giving her that concerned look he did every time she spoke of magic, like he was worried for her soul.

  What was she going to do if he found out the truth about her? For that matter, what was she going to do when she got the sword? At that point, she could leave, unless she somehow wanted to try and dig out more artifacts. She wasn’t sure how she would do that, but it did irk her a bit, imagining the descendants of those who had buried her people alive coming back later to paw through their belongings.

  “What will you do when you find it?” Ridge asked.<
br />
  Indeed, just the question on her mind. “Study it,” she said, though she already knew Jaxi’s every inner and outer contour intimately. Sardelle had a vague notion of traveling the world and trying to find more of her people, descendants of them anyway. Not everyone had been at that birthday celebration. Almost everyone had been—which was no doubt why their enemies had chosen that day to attack—but more people than her had to have survived. Had they fled the continent? Were they hiding in some distant corner of the world? Would they welcome her into whatever community they had managed to create? Or could she somehow live amongst the mundanes and be happy?

  “Back at some university, I suppose,” Ridge said, studying the liquid in his cup.

  “Aside from one handsome and generous fort commander, I have not found many people to welcome me here.”

  “And he’s not enough of a reason to stay?”

  Sardelle swallowed. This was the first time he had suggested he wanted her to. “I… ”

  “It wouldn’t be forever. Just a year. Eleven months and five days now. Not that I have a calendar I’m marking on my desk or anything.” Ridge gave her that quirky smile of his, the one that made his eyes glint as if he were planning some mischief. “I have a much nicer place down near the coast. A little cabin in the woods, next to a lake with some great fishing. It’s very private and peaceful. Did I mention private? Nothing except the raccoons and owls—normal-sized non-freaky owls—to pay attention to what’s going on out there at night.”

  “I see, and if I were to stay here for a year—” or go off and check on the world and on her people and then come back for him in a year… “—would I be working in the laundry and sleeping in a tiny bunk surrounded by dozens of snoring women the whole time?”