Deathmaker (Dragon Blood)

by Buroker, Lindsay

  She eyed the laboratory again, found herself more daunted than inspired by all of the paraphernalia, and settled for a simple idea. She cut down the hammock and, after some fiddling, made it into a net of sorts. She strung it over the door. With some wire, she fashioned a way to pull it down from a few feet away.

  “Going to a lot of work if there’s nobody out there,” she muttered, aware of the time. She wondered how long the ship had been docked before she had awoken. More specifically, she wondered how long she had before Tolemek or someone else returned to check on her. Explaining why she was cutting up his hammock would be difficult.

  Once she had her trap placed, Cas grabbed a few of the metal scraps out of one of the crates. She found a spot she liked in a dark corner near the door, then tossed the pieces into the air. They landed with a clatter she trusted would be audible to someone in the hallway.

  By this point, she had convinced herself she been wasting her time, so she was almost surprised when the door opened. A pirate strode in, his hand on a pistol.

  Cas tugged on her tripwire. The hammock-turned-net fell onto him. It wasn’t a particularly insidious trap, but it did its job of confusing him for a second. She slipped in behind him, pressing one of the pistols to the back of his neck.

  “Stop moving,” she whispered.

  He halted.

  “Good man.” Or boy. He didn’t look more than sixteen. “Take a step forward, please.” She pressed harder with the pistol’s muzzle, in case her words weren’t convincing in and of themselves.

  When he did so, she kicked the door shut. She wanted to relieve the pirate of his weapons—there was a short sword on his belt in addition to the pistol in his hand—but her net was a barrier for her as well as for him.

  “Holster that firearm, and drop your trousers,” Cas said.

  For the first time, the boy balked. “What? I’m not—”

  “Listen,” she whispered, rising to her tiptoes and leaning close to speak right behind his ear. “I am an Iskandian soldier, and it’s my duty to take down thieves, bandits, pirates, and anyone else who might be a threat to my nation. I will be more than happy to shoot you.” It was hard to sound steely and menacing at twenty-three years old and five-foot-nothing, but she managed to convince the kid she was serious.

  He holstered the pistol and unclasped his belt. His trousers fell to the ground. Cas caught the pistol before it dropped too far, though she was out of hands and had to let the sword clank to the deck.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Me? Nothing, if you cooperate. I just want to get out of this cabin. Look around. This place is creepier than a cave full of bats on All Ghosts Eve, isn’t it?”

  “You got that right,” the kid muttered with a shudder that seemed unfeigned. He was eyeing the terrariums. Everyone did when they came in. Maybe Cas should have taken a closer look at the creatures confined in them. Or… maybe not.

  She hadn’t been sure how she was going to convince the guard to effectively tie himself up so she could leave him here, but his trepidation gave her an idea.

  “Take three steps forward and one to your left.” Cas followed him with the gun pressed to his neck as he did so. “See that flask of the red liquid in that case?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Remove it.”

  The pirate stiffened. “I’m not drinking it or anything like that. I don’t care what you do.”

  “No, no, of course not. There’s no need for that.” Cas waited until the kid, trousers around his ankles, hobbled over to the case, opened the door, and removed the triangular flask before adding, “It’s so corrosive that it can sear your flesh to the bone if it merely touches your skin. There’s no need for you to ingest it for it to melt you into a pile of goo.”

  The kid swallowed audibly. “What… should I do with it?” He stared down at his hand as if he held a rattlesnake.

  “Put it on your head.”

  “What?”

  “Just the flask. I don’t want you to pour it out. In fact, I’m trusting you can stand very still so there’s no danger to you at all.”

  “Look, woman.” The pirate set the flask on the nearest table. “I don’t care who you are. I’m not—”

  While he was complaining, Cas plucked up the flask and reached up to plunk it on his head.

  He cursed, his hand flying up to hold it there, though with the hammock draped over the top half of his body, he almost knocked it over. He seemed to realize that and froze there, his hand hovering in the air.

  “Perfect,” Cas said, letting go. “Now, keep facing that corner there, and I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to remove it. Of course, you could try on your own, but it’s extremely full, and if you spill so much as a drop… well, I understand the Deathmaker’s potions are quite potent.”

  “Yes,” the boy whispered, his hand still over his head, draped in netting, “they are.”

  Cas plucked his short sword out of its scabbard and backed toward the door, the pistol aimed at him. She thought she had convinced him, but one never knew. He might chance yanking it off.

  But he didn’t move, even when her heel caught on one of the pieces of metal she had dropped earlier, and it skidded across the cabin. Like a statue, he faced the corner.

  Cas grabbed one of the bits of metal that had a hook-like protuberance and took it with her. She was already carrying a small pile of weapons, but one more thing shouldn’t matter. She eased the door open, checked in both directions, then stepped out. She fished the vial out and, using her mouth, tugged off the cap. Better not be too careless with this stuff, she warned herself, then dabbed the hook into the jar. It started smoldering, but she only needed it for a moment. She dabbed some of the goo into the lock on the door, hoping the mechanism would melt, and the private wouldn’t be able to simply walk out once he grew brave enough to risk touching that flask. Her trap wouldn’t hold him forever, but she didn’t plan to be onboard that long. When she had looked out the porthole, she had spotted three other airships docked, and one of them had been little more than a personal yacht. If its owners were off enjoying the taverns and brothels, she might be able to slip aboard without being spotted.

  “One step at a time,” she murmured and headed for the ladder leading to the main deck. She still needed to get off this ship without being spotted.

  *

  Tolemek leaned against the wall while Goroth and several other captains and first mates settled at the big oaken table in the center of the room. A few bodyguards stood against the wall, too, but nobody came close or spoke to him.

  Wenches in low-cut dresses carried trays of food and rum out of a larger common room where raucous laughs alternated with angry shouts and the sounds of smacking flesh. Gunshots had already fired once out there in the five minutes Tolemek and Goroth had been inside. A few of the captains spoke, while others shifted and sighed. One had a girl in his lap and was fondling her and suggesting that he might find something else to do if the meeting didn’t start. Two seats at the head of the table remained empty.

  A plump black-haired woman in an apron came in, clapped her hands, and said, “Out, ladies. The last two people have arrived.”

  As the servers strolled out, sashaying their hips and smiling at the men wearing more gold than others, Stone Heart, the captain of the Burning Dragon, walked in, accompanied by a man in a dirty, ragged Cofah military uniform. His sword was missing, and a couple weeks’ worth of hair sprouted from a head that should have been shaven.

  Tolemek had assumed this meeting would have something to do with the salvaged flier, but perhaps not.

  “Gentlemen,” Stone Heart said, walking to the head of the table. “Allow me to introduce Corporal Tyrson. He wishes to desert from the Cofah army and seeks refuge with us.”

  Several of the captains gave each other so-what looks. Tolemek waited for more information—Stone Heart was wearing an I-know-something-you-don’t-know smirk as he massaged his shaven head. Or maybe he was itching it. He
had added a couple of daggers to his collection of scalp tattoos since Tolemek had seen him last.

  “It seems,” Stone Heart continued, after pausing long enough for dramatic effect—and to annoy people—, “our friend here is the sole survivor of an epic battle that took place high in the Iskandian Ice Blades. Given that he didn’t die when his airship crashed or during the ground skirmishes, as the rest of his comrades did, he’s elected not to return home.”

  Goroth gave Tolemek a long look over his shoulder. Yes, Tolemek had no trouble understanding the corporal’s reasoning. Even if he hadn’t been in command, there would be assumptions of cowardice, and he wouldn’t be looked upon favorably by his superiors.

  “He was part of a secret mission,” Stone Heart said, “to spy on the mines where the Iskandians are extracting the crystals that power their dragon fliers.”

  A number of heads lifted at that announcement, including Tolemek’s. Mines? He had yet to see one of the energy sources up close, but he had assumed they were man-made, rather than being some natural resource.

  “Guess who the Cofah airship smacked into while he was there?” Stone Heart asked.

  “Who?”

  “Colonel Zirkander,” the soldier said, speaking for the first time. “Nobody expected him there. Turns out he was commanding the mining outpost.”

  Goroth gave Tolemek another look. Odd how often the man’s name was coming up this week. Had Tolemek been remiss in not questioning Ahn more seriously? Was it possible she knew something about this?

  “He didn’t have his squadron or his fliers there though,” the soldier went on, “and we had a mercenary shaman aboard, so we all figured we had the advantage. But he pulled a rusty old flier out of some forgotten crevice, and then…” The man licked his lips, and his voice lowered to a whisper. “There was a witch working with him. Or maybe even a sorcerer, like the ones from the old days. I heard the shaman talking to the captain. He seemed confident he could deal with her, until the end. They fought down in the fortress, and it was crazy. All flying sparks and lightning and blasts of power and I don’t know what. You see, she had this sword. A glowing sword.”

  “A soulblade?” Tolemek asked before he could think better of showing his interest. He couldn’t help himself. So much of his research had pointed to Iskandia as one of strongholds of the ancient sorcerers, but he had assumed that there would be little left but buried ruins. He hadn’t dreamed there might be soulblades floating around the continent.

  The soldier’s brow crinkled at the term. “I don’t know what it’s called, but when she was holding it, it glowed and kept bullets from hitting her and, and, and she cleaved our shaman down like he was nothing. I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Fantastic,” one of the older captains said, his tone drier than a mouthful of sand. “Zirkander didn’t have enough of an advantage. Now he’s got a witch in his back pocket.”

  The corporal nodded fiercely. “That’s why we failed. If it had been just him…” He smacked a fist into his palm.

  “Why was it just him?” Goroth asked. “Why would he have been sent to a mountain mine without his squadron?”

  “Must be a secret location,” one of the captains said. “And only the top, most trusted people get sent there.”

  “But why a pilot to command a fortress? A pilot without his squadron, at that. Surely they have other lickspittles they trust.”

  “Something to do with the energy sources?” Tolemek suggested. “Maybe his experience with them makes him a good candidate for locating them or interacting with them or whatever is done at this mine.”

  “Huh.” Goroth scratched his jaw and looked at him. “If only we knew someone who might know more about Zirkander and this whole incident.”

  Tolemek shut his mouth and stared back. The last thing he wanted to mention in a room full of captains was that they had a Wolf Squadron pilot. His reputation might protect her on the ship, but there were people here who would risk much to do exactly what he and Goroth planned: using her to trap Zirkander. Then there were the more shortsighted people, those who would simply kill her for revenge. If his memory served, there were even bounty posters around the outpost offering rewards for the heads of particularly vexing Iskandian pilots. Ahn might not have been flying long enough to have one, but he couldn’t be certain, not with that aim of hers.

  Tolemek pointed at the soldier. “Would you be able to lead an airship back to those mines?”

  “Yes, good question,” Scarred Brea, one of the two female captains in the outfit, said. “It sounds like the Cofah ship didn’t survive to report home, but their government would pay a fortune to know where the source of the energy crystals is.” Brea tapped her fingers together as she gazed at the soldier. Maybe thinking of making sure he didn’t change his mind and report home before some entrepreneurial pirate could sell his information first? “I’ll offer you a spot on my ship.”

  “Wait, wait,” another captain said. “I’ve got a spot open too. Fighter sergeant. Comes with a two percent booty share.”

  “Why don’t you idiots see what his answer is first?” Goroth grumbled.

  The corporal wore a hopeful expression, but it wilted at this pragmatism. “I might be able to find it. But I wasn’t looking over the railing much when we were flying out there. And on the way back, I stowed away on one of their supply ships, and I was hiding in the cargo hold for the whole trip. I don’t think you can get there on foot at all. It’s real high up in the mountains, and it’s winter there now. Whole place is buried under snow. Also…” He shrugged. “Someone in my government already knows about the mines, too, and was pretty sure on the location. That’s why they sent us. I do remember us flying around for some weeks before we found them though.”

  “He talks a lot, doesn’t he?” Captain Brea said. “To basically say no, he can’t find the place.”

  “Rethinking your offer?” someone asked.

  Tolemek ignored the rest of the meeting, his thoughts turned inward. If Zirkander knew someone who had a soulblade, Ahn became even more valuable to him. Goroth might want to kill Zirkander, but Tolemek wanted to question him first. Or even snoop around in his home, see what information he might have on the sorcerers of old. Sorcerers who were supposed to be long dead, not fighting alongside the Iskandian military again. Even more, he wanted to question the woman with the sword. Maybe she would know where another one was. But sorcerers could read minds, so being in the room with one would be dangerous. Maybe he could get her sword somehow when she was elsewhere. Was it truly bonded to her, as the soulblades had been in ancient times? Or would it accept another handler?

  He had far more questions than answers, and all he knew was he needed to find Zirkander more than ever. And he needed to talk to Ahn.

  Chapter 7

  Much to her chagrin, Cas hadn’t been able to simply sneak off the ship. Judging by the few people below decks and the quietness of the overall craft, much of the crew had left to enjoy the outpost’s facilities, but there had been too many pirates and cabin boys wandering up above for her to make it from the ship’s ladder to the gangplank. For a moment, she had fantasized about a mad sprint where she shot wildly, knocking down anyone who thought to stand in her way, but that wasn’t some mecca of freedom down there. If she charged off the ship, guns roaring, she’d probably be shot before she reached the end of the gangplank. Maybe sooner if Tolemek or his captain had told the other pirates in the outpost about her.

  So, backup plan. She’d gone down instead of up.

  From the shadows near the door, Cas eyed the engine room. There were a few portholes, but whatever fog or clouds lingered outside kept much light from seeping inside. She didn’t see anyone, but there were shadows everywhere, and the engine, furnace, boilers, and bins of coal took up a lot of space. Some diligent pirate or cabin boy might be working in a nook not visible from the door. She didn’t know what they would be doing though. The flywheels and pistons of the engine stood dormant, the fire in the furnace
allowed to burn low. Since a lighter-than-air gas mixture kept the balloon full and the ship in the sky, the boilers only had to be heated when the propellers were needed. With the craft docked, she shouldn’t have to worry about that for a while.

  Cas thumbed the vial of goo as she listened for signs of life in the room. The glass was warm from being held in her hand. At some point, she needed to find some decent clothing, something with pockets perhaps.

  “Later,” she murmured and walked over to the engine, considering places where a little sabotage would go a long way. A fire should draw the crew down here—fires on wooden ships were never a good thing, so all hands ought to report promptly to help. That would be the time to escape.

  She thought about sabotaging the boiler—she wasn’t an expert on engines but mused that she might be able to create a delayed explosion that would irrevocably damage the whole ship.

  “They would really hate me then.” She was a long ways from safe, and, though she hated to admit it, there was always the possibility that she would be recaptured. Better not to do something that would anger them to the extent that she became a shoot-on-sight foe instead of a capture-for-later-use one.

  She paused next to a coal bin. If all she wanted was a fire…

  Yes, that might do. But as long as she had the goo, she might as well do a small bit of sabotage. Something that would delay them if she managed to escape in some other ship, so that they couldn’t come after her right away. She brushed some of Tolemek’s concoction onto the metal bar of one of the pistons. In the shadows, she couldn’t see the smoke rising, but she smelled the acrid stuff working.

  She grabbed one of the lanterns by the door and set a fire in one of the metal bins. Before leaving the room, she opened a couple of portholes to let in fresh oxygen to fuel her flames. And it might prove useful to her escape attempts if some ominous black smoke poured out through the portholes as well. At the least, it should alert the men on deck to the problem sooner rather than later.