She snorted softly to herself. She doubted he had been that arrogant. Still, maybe part of the reason they worked together was that she had a power he couldn’t touch and had to respect, something that could humble even a famous pilot. Though she would be the first to admit that literal power didn’t always matter in a relationship. She’d felt helpless once, trying to keep something together with a man who hadn’t been nearly as invested in their pairing as she had been. She might have been the stronger magic user, but his indifference had, as counterintuitive as it seemed, given him the greater power.
What changed? she asked, more interested in his past than in hers. His story wasn’t completely surprising, but Sardelle had often thought he was actually well grounded and even humble for someone who received as much attention as he did.
I got my best friend killed.
Sensing the sudden grimness in his thoughts, she waited patiently for him to continue.
He was the Wolf Squadron commander, Colonel Abagon “Squirrel” Mox. I was a major at the time. He was a few years older, but we’d been in the squadron together since it had formed ten years earlier, and I was—still am—the godfather of his children. She saw the flash of a memory, of birthdays and picnics and the realization that he needed to check in on the family, even though that had been uncomfortable and difficult since Mox’s death. He always put up with my cockiness and was good at placing me in positions where I wouldn’t endanger others. Usually. But five years ago, we had a thorny mission, a big battle over our shipping lanes, which the Cofah were trying to usurp. Again. We had to fight imperial dirigibles and also deal with naval artillery. It was an ugly battle, all at night, so many fires on our ships and theirs, so much death. I thought I could do something brilliant and get rid of two airships at once. We didn’t expect them to have cargo holds full of explosives. I signaled and convinced Mox to follow me in, that it would be fine, that we’d come out as heroes, as we always did. And then I left him, when I knew he’d been hit and didn’t have full control. Just for a second, I told myself, because there was the Cofah armada commander in my sights, and if we could kill him— Ridge shook his head, the words stopping, but the images came through, and Sardelle received a clearer vision of the battle—the deaths—than she would have liked. The downside of being a telepath and linked closely with another person.
So Mox was dead, and the way it happened, not many people knew it was my fault, if any. But I knew. And I couldn’t bring myself to fudge my report, though you better believe I considered it. I knew that might be the end of my career, if not cause for further punishment. So I told the truth to Mox’s commander, a man who also considered him a friend.
General Ort? Sardelle guessed. She had occasionally wondered why Ort gave his star squadron commander a hard time.
General Ort, Ridge agreed. He hadn’t been commander of the flier battalion for more than four months. And I’m sure he hadn’t heard anything good about me.
He obviously didn’t kick you out of the military.
No, he promoted me. To Mox’s position. Ridge grunted. I’m sure he would have demoted me swiftly enough if it hadn’t worked out, but I think he wanted to see if giving me some responsibility would teach me something. I’m not sure if it was that or just Mox’s death, but it worked, to a certain degree. I’m still reckless. I know it. But it’s more calculated now. And I watch out for my people.
Yes, she had seen that. He was almost obsessive about it. She smiled down at Tylie, once again imagining him showing up with fists bared to threaten Phelistoth with pummeling if he didn’t have her home before midnight.
Sardelle laid her hand on his, brushing her thumbs across his knuckles. While I find it interesting to hear about your past, in a heart-wrenching kind of way, I don’t see why all this makes you feel you’d be a poor father.
You don’t? Of all people, how could I ever discipline a kid with a straight face? Tell him to do the right thing? What kind of role model would I be, having been a self-absorbed ass for most of my life?
I’ll admit I’m not an expert in this area any more than you are, but I think it matters more who you are and what you do after your children are born, rather than before.
Ridge was quiet for a moment before grudgingly saying, I suppose there’s something to that.
What children know or care what their parents did in their lives before they were born? Have you ever asked your mother or your father about their school days? Their early careers? What they did?
I don’t even know what my father does now, most of the time.
See?
Hm.
Sardelle squeezed his hand. I just wanted to share my thoughts with you. I don’t want to pressure you into anything. All seven gods, even Moltsoth the Blind, knew his mother did enough of that already.
I didn’t think you were. I— Ridge paused, dumbfounded. Were you asking because you want to have children?
It’s been in my thoughts a few times of late. I would be open to a discussion.
She grinned as the realization dawned over him that he’d been self-absorbed again, thinking of himself and his own perceived deficiencies, instead of realizing why she was talking to him about fatherhood. He had the good grace to flush and feel embarrassed. She shifted her weight so she could kiss him. Maybe he was right and that it was a good thing she had met him at forty instead of at twenty or thirty. She was rather fond of this Ridgewalker Zirkander.
Though he still seemed chagrined, he returned the kiss. It’s too bad we’re not alone in this cave or you could seduce me again, and we could discuss it right now.
After the mission perhaps? Sardelle broke the kiss, too aware of Tylie leaning against her other side. Even if she was sleeping, Duck was up in his cockpit, whittling very assiduously and doing his best not to look in their direction.
I’d like that.
Also, you keep trying to rewrite the history in that cave. You were clearly the one who seduced me.
Ridge smirked at the old argument. You were the one caressing my chest.
I was healing your wounds.
While caressing my chest. Seductively.
Am I the only one in the cave listening to this and wishing you were making babies now instead of engaging in all of this mushy talk? Jaxi sounded tired and grouchy, probably more from the continuing demands on her energy than from mushy talk. She loved to mock that, after all.
We thought you were too busy being radiant to eavesdrop on us, Sardelle said.
Please. I’m never too busy to eavesdrop.
A crack and a bang sounded, followed by a delightfully refreshing draft that whispered into the cave.
Jaxi’s beam disappeared, and the lighting diminished, only the glow from her pommel remaining. Night must have fallen outside, because no light entered from the hole Jaxi had created.
Hours ago. It will be midnight by the time you get your flying crates to the mines.
“Crates?” Ridge asked.
How about you strong men come finish this off? Jaxi pulsed, shining a beam of light toward the rubble. I’m tired.
Duck dropped his knife and stared toward the naked blade.
“She’s talking to you now, eh?” Ridge asked.
“I… yes, sir.”
“She probably wants you to oil her blade later.” Ridge gave Sardelle a parting kiss, then extricated himself and rolled up his sleeves.
Though Sardelle wouldn’t have minded resting for another ten or twelve hours, she eased Tylie off her and rose to help. The sooner they cleared the way, the sooner they could get to the outpost. She just hoped it hadn’t been attacked. Most of the miners and soldiers hadn’t treated her well when she had been there, but she wouldn’t wish them death by dragon fire.
Especially when they can help us dig out another soulblade.
Yes, that was my first concern too, Sardelle gave Jaxi a sideways look as she joined the men in the cave mouth.
What can I say? I’ve missed my own kind. Besides, I want to see
your soul snozzle ordering Colonel Therrik around. He had many unkind words about us.
I don’t think Ridge is going to order him to do the digging.
No? That’s disappointing.
• • • • •
Tolemek gazed toward the dark valley from the railing of the airship, trying to see Cas’s flier down there. He had left the helm when she and the others had engaged with the Cofah, and he’d watched helplessly as that sorceress hurled that fireball at her. He had a rifle with him, but it was useless at such a range. Fortunately, Cas and the others hadn’t needed his help. The Cofah airship was flaming where it had crashed at the other end of the valley, and he was about to let himself relax when an unwelcome sensation crawled up his spine.
His first thought was that he felt the sorceress using her magic from somewhere below, but he hadn’t sensed anything earlier, when she had flung that fireball. Had he been too far away then? He searched the sky to either side of their airship, hoping he did not sense a dragon’s approach. This sensation did remind him of how he felt in Phelistoth’s powerful presence, but this presence wasn’t familiar to him the way Phelistoth’s aura would be. Could the other dragon be nearby? Hidden by the night?
A thunderous boom shook the airship, and the deck tilted. Tolemek lurched, his stomach thrust into the railing, and he almost dropped his rifle.
“Water,” came a yell from behind him. “Fire suppression team, get up here.”
Tolemek spun toward the voice and gaped at the side of the ship, where a long section of the railing had been destroyed, along with part of the hull. Flames licked at the broken decking, and smoke roiled inward. The balloon hadn’t been damaged, but if someone was out there throwing grenades at them, it could be the next target. But who was throwing grenades? He could see both sides of the ship from his position, and there was nothing in the sky around them. Nothing visible.
He glanced down at the valley, at the bonfire that was the Cofah airship. The sorceress was on that ship. She couldn’t be up here, turning other aircraft invisible, could she?
One of the ship’s artillery weapons fired with a more controlled boom. The gunner couldn’t have seen anything, either, but he was aiming toward the air beyond their port side. Whoever had hurled that grenade must have done so from over there.
Tolemek ran to a section of the railing that still stood and hunted for something to aim at with his rifle. The other guns on that side of the ship joined in with the attack, and the roar was deafening. Smoke filled the air, both from the fire and from the firing weapons, and he doubted he could have seen a craft even if it hadn’t been invisible.
Kneeling behind the railing for cover, he fired a couple of shots randomly into the night, but that was pointless. He tried to gather his thoughts and use the senses that Sardelle kept promising him he possessed. Maybe he could feel the presence of an invisible craft. He’d thought he had sensed something before the attack, hadn’t he?
The shouts and booms made it hard to concentrate, but he did start to get the sense of something out there and where it might be. It felt large, like another airship, maybe a smaller one than theirs, but it was definitely bigger than a flier.
“Fire high,” Tolemek yelled. “I think they’re above our own balloon.”
The closest artillery officer frowned at him, probably wondering who he thought he was giving orders, but he did adjust his aim. Tolemek shot a couple of times, but it was pointless. He couldn’t do anything useful with a rifle. He had some of his knockout and smoke grenades in his lab.
“I’ll be back,” he announced to nobody in particular and ran to the hatchway that led below decks.
He almost tripped over a team tugging a giant hose across the deck. He had to stop to let them pass and cursed at the delay. But that extra few seconds gave him a moment to look around, and he saw something he would have heard if there had been less noise. A grappling hook latched onto the railing on the starboard side of the ship.
“Attack from the starboard side,” Tolemek yelled.
Most of the crew was focused on the port side, and he winced, knowing he had been the one to promise their enemy was over there. Were they dealing with two ships, or had that one flown up and over them to the other side? Airships weren’t the most maneuverable craft, but it was possible.
Even as his thoughts whirred through his head, he found cover behind one of the artillery stations and fired into the night, guessing as to the exact origin of the hook. All he could see was a taut rope disappearing into the night sky. Others ran over and joined him in firing to that side, but four more grappling hooks latched onto the railing.
Two shaven-headed Cofah soldiers in uniforms leaped out of the darkness and landed atop the railing less than five feet from Tolemek. There wasn’t a grappling hook there, so he hadn’t expected them. He jumped back and fired, clipping one of the men in the shoulder. But they were already leaping onto the deck, swords and pistols pointed in his direction. The soldier he’d injured slashed down at the corporal manning the artillery station. The second one leaped straight for Tolemek.
There wasn’t time to fire again, so he dropped back, whipping his rifle across to block a sword strike meant to cut his skull open. A second slash followed the first. The Cofah soldier was a veteran, with a scar on his jaw and lines creasing his forehead. He must have survived countless battles. He pressed Tolemek back with his speed, the swift movements of his blade difficult to track. The damned rifle was a poor weapon for a sword fight, but Tolemek couldn’t put enough space between himself and the soldier to fire it again. Why had he come up on deck without any of his grenades in his pockets?
“Idiot,” he growled at himself, already panting from the exertion of the fight.
Another slash cut for his face, and he barely managed to duck. He almost missed seeing the soldier aiming with his pistol hand before the sword finished its attack. Tolemek dropped to the deck, but not before the weapon fired. Pain seared the side of his head, and utter fear almost froze him, terror that he had a bullet lodged in his skull, in his brain. But the soldier wasn’t done with him, and there was no time to freeze. The man charged in, slashing toward Tolemek’s face with the sword.
From his side down on the deck, Tolemek twisted to avoid the blade while kicking out. The soldier was almost too fast for him, but his boot clipped the inside of the man’s knee. He faltered slightly, and his sword clunked into the bulkhead behind Tolemek.
Tolemek found the room to jab upward with the muzzle of his rifle. If he’d had a bayonet on the end, he would have eviscerated the man, but as it was, he struck his target in the belly with enough force to bend him over. Tolemek scrambled to his knees, using his upward momentum to launch a punch at the man’s exposed jaw. It wasn’t a good punch, and it stung his hand, but it was nothing compared to the fiery pain blazing at the side of his skull. He channeled his pain into rage and shoved the soldier back. The man was quick to recover, and Tolemek almost received a sword cut to his chest. But a soldier from another battle had fallen behind the Cofah, and his heel caught. The tiny distraction gave Tolemek enough time to finally jump back and bring his rifle to bear. He fired, the bullet slamming into his foe’s chest.
The man tumbled to the deck, opening up the view around Tolemek. Dozens of men, Iskandians and Cofah, were battling near the railing now. The artillery man who had been attacked at the same time as Tolemek lay dead below the weapon, his throat cut. The airship that had to be out there was still invisible, but more men were running out of the darkness, balancing on ropes, risking a deadly fall to reach the battle.
Tolemek fired at one, knocking him from the tenuous perch, but he did not want to stay where he was, not when the Cofah ship would have artillery weapons of its own, and he was in plain sight. A boom somewhere off to his left confirmed that the airship was firing. What he needed to do was make that ship visible, so the Iskandian gunners could see their target.
With that thought in mind, Tolemek backed away from the battle and sp
rinted for the hatchway that would take him to his lab.
“Coward,” an injured soldier growled as he ran by.
The condemnation hurt, but there was no time to argue with it. Tolemek raced through the hatchway, jumping to the deck below instead of bothering with the ladder. His head throbbed with each step, and blood trickled down the side of his face. A problem for later.
He swung into his lab and went straight to a cupboard full of chemicals and minerals. He yanked out a bag of talc and almost returned with just that, but he looked around, muttering, “Dispersal method. Dispersal method.”
He grabbed a couple of his shrapnel grenades. Not ideal, but they ought to blow the powder around sufficiently. He tied them to the bag, making an ugly bomb that Captain Kaika would be sure to mock, then crafted a quick sling. Booms and shouts continued to sound outside of his walls—his lab was right under the fighting.
Tolemek sprinted back up to the deck, almost crashing into a fight that had devolved into swords and hatchets. He dodged around the men, hoping nobody shot him. Several of the boarding ropes had been cut, but one still stretched into the darkness. He pulled the fuses on his grenades, then hurried to swing his sling before they detonated. He released it, and the talc bag and the grenades strapped to it hurled into the air. He lacked Cas’s aim, and he was guessing as to where the gap between the deck and the envelope would be. As his clumsy weapon sailed away, all he could do was crouch down behind cover and watch.
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