6.0 - Raptor

by Lindsay Buroker

  Ah, I was thinking that Therrik and Phelistoth should never meet. The king would probably blame me if his outpost commander ended up incinerated while I was in the room.

  I don’t think silver dragons breathe fire. Phelistoth would just stop his heart with a wave of his hand.

  There’s a way I could get blamed for that too. I’m sure of it. Also, you’re not a dirty witch. You’re always very clean and tidy, even when we’re fleeing from lava-spewing, ash-spitting volcanoes.

  Sardelle grimaced, all too aware of the blood on her clothes right now. Jaxi is keeping an eye on the other dragon, she said, not wanting to share her failure with Ridge now, especially not when she had just told him about Phelistoth’s far superior ability. If I’m not able to talk to you from down here, she’ll let you know if he’s coming close again.

  All right. Duck just got back—the airship is on its way. With luck, it will arrive before the dragon does. Or better yet, the dragon will get bored and go somewhere else. There aren’t any sheep for him to eat here.

  You did mention griddle cakes.

  Not sheep-flavored griddle cakes.

  I believe dragons can eat other things. I saw Phelistoth eating cheese last week.

  Is that what happened to my block of Premja Paneer? I thought you ate it all.

  Tylie shared it with him.

  Today my cheese, tomorrow my beer.

  Sardelle held back a snort, remembering that she had company. Have you even had any beer since getting promoted? The same three bottles have been in the icebox all month.

  After she asked the question, she wished she hadn’t. If he had been drinking beer elsewhere to avoid his uncomfortable new roommates, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know about it. If Tylie was going to continue having dragon visitors, she and Ridge were going to have to find another living arrangement once they got back.

  But Ridge’s mournful, No, assured her he hadn’t been out drinking and carousing with the boys—or any other girls, either. I don’t drink when I’m on duty. And I’m always on duty now. He did the mental equivalent of laying his head on her shoulder. After this, we need to find time alone somewhere. Perhaps in a cave, where you can stroke my chest.

  Or we could spend our leisure time in a more enhanced locale.

  Like a cavern?

  Maybe your cabin by the lake. Especially if she could convince him to have an indoor toilet installed.

  That sounds agreeable. He smiled—she could tell even from fifteen levels down into the mountain—but then it faded, and his words grew serious again. I am concerned about the other dragon. Why would he be lurking nearby? That’s odd, don’t you think? Is it Tylie again? Has he realized she’s still alive? I can’t understand why a human girl would mean so much to such a powerful creature.

  Sardelle started to answer, but then Phelistoth’s earlier statement came back to mind, slamming her with a realization.

  “Phelistoth,” she said before a question fully formed in her mind. He and Tylie were standing next to her in the dark cage as they descended, neither speaking, at least not out loud. For the moment, their group was alone, though Captain Bosmont had arranged for several soldiers stationed down in the mines to accompany them. She wished Bosmont himself had come, but he’d been pulled away because of his engineering expertise. The soldiers were trying to rebuild the fortress, as much as possible, in case Morishtomaric returned. Ridge and Therrik had been outside, arguing over some wall fortification when she had passed through the courtyard. “The dragon artifacts you mentioned—what are they? Something you would value?”

  I do not know what they are. I can sense my kind’s signature on them. They shine like suns down there, with the human artifacts like distant stars.

  I never sensed anything of such power, Sardelle said, switching to telepathy, since she could see light now at the end of the tram shaft, and I spent years coming in and out of Referatu Headquarters.

  Your senses are as impressive as those of a goat.

  Jaxi snickered in her mind.

  Aren’t you busy doing research? Sardelle asked.

  Very busy. That’s why I didn’t comment on the cheese or chest stroking.

  They are all located in one place, Phelistoth said.

  The tram came to a stop. The door opened into a hollow chamber crisscrossed with ore cart rails. A couple of those carts rested next to the tram cage, filled to the brim with dirt and ready to be hauled out. Four soldiers stood in a line, rifles in hand as they shuffled with unease. Sardelle could feel their discomfort before she saw their faces. Though she wished it had to do with the dragon attack, the way the men shared significant looks with each other and stole surreptitious glances at Sardelle, Tylie, and Phelistoth implied otherwise.

  “Good morning.” Sardelle smiled and tried to appear as friendly and unthreatening as possible.

  Phelistoth did the opposite, his stare cold and his demeanor haughty. They gave him even more glances than Sardelle received. She wondered if Bosmont had mentioned him. Phelistoth had drawn looks up in the courtyard, too, even though Sardelle had hustled him through quickly. Nobody had questioned her. She did not know if that was because Ridge had given orders that she was to be permitted to go wherever she wanted to go, or if everybody remembered who and what she was, and they were simply afraid to question her.

  Seemingly oblivious to the men’s unease, Tylie waved cheerfully and immediately started wandering around the chamber, peering into the tunnels. The layout was familiar to Sardelle, but she thought they might be a level or two lower than had existed the last time she had come. The water she had flooded the lower part of the mine with had been pumped out.

  “I’m Sergeant Jenneth,” the man who had opened the cage door said. “Captain Bosmont said to take you wherever you want to go.” His forehead wrinkled as he considered the tunnels, some well lit and with clanks drifting from them and others dark and silent.

  Sardelle doubted these soldiers were asked for tours often.

  “Excellent. Thank you.” She smiled again, not that the gesture put them at ease. She might as well have been displaying a mouth full of fangs. That thought made her glance at Phelistoth, to make sure he wasn’t doing such a thing, but aside from the not-quite-right eyes, he appeared fully human. No fangs. “Which tunnel?” she asked him.

  She had intended to take the lead, but since she would be guessing based on where she had been found, where she had found Jaxi, and what she remembered of the complex, she wasn’t confident that she could find a soulblade in a timely manner. Many Referatu sorcerers and sorceresses had been in the compound the day of the explosion, so she estimated there would be ten or fifteen soulblades, assuming nobody had moved them. But she hadn’t been keeping track of where the handlers had been in the hours before the explosions detonated.

  “I will lead.” Phelistoth walked past the soldiers without acknowledging them and strode down one of the lit tunnels.

  Sardelle hurried after him, glad he hadn’t chosen a dark one, because he might have lit it by magical means. Unless dragons saw in the dark. She had no idea. The history books hadn’t covered that.

  Tylie chose to walk at Sardelle’s side instead of catching up with Phelistoth. The soldiers trailed behind them, not closely.

  “Are you sure General Zirkander said they’re supposed to be down here?” one muttered to the other.

  “That’s what the captain said,” his buddy muttered back.

  “Civilians aren’t allowed down here. Unless they’re mining.”

  “I know, but she’s with the general. You know, with the general.”

  Sardelle glanced at Tylie and wished the men would mutter more quietly. They hadn’t said anything lewd yet, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it escalated to that. Tylie might not understand innuendo, but even so, Sardelle had a notion that she shouldn’t allow herself to be denigrated in front of her student. Her natural inclination was not to cause trouble, but would Tylie think her weak? Would a Cofah sorceress stand for being
spoken about behind her back?

  Are you having insecurity issues again? You usually save those for Ridge. Like when you’re worried he’s been drinking beer with other women.

  That was not what I was worried about.

  Yeah, it was. Subconsciously. You seem to forget that you’re attractive and that he finds you quite witty and appealing. Probably because of me.

  What do you have to do with my wit and appeal, Jaxi?

  I’m part of the package. I suspect the inside of Ridge’s head was very boring before he had my insights in there.

  Are you sharing insights with him right now? Sardelle couldn’t imagine that he would appreciate that when he was trying to fix his fortress walls.

  Possibly. Mostly I’m reading a book about swords and other tools crafted to fight dragons and sorcerers. Mostly dragons, since they did so much damage in battle, but sorcerers could be harmed by them as a byproduct.

  So I’ve seen. Sardelle still had a scar from the cut she had taken in her fight with Kasandral-ruled-Cas.

  I also wanted to warn you about your escorts.

  If it’s that they’re not one hundred percent on our side, I’ve gathered that.

  One of them is thinking that it would be better for Ridge and the world if you disappeared down here. Another is fantasizing about your ass and wondering if witches are any different for rutting purposes.

  Lovely. Sardelle lamented anew that Captain Bosmont hadn’t been their escort.

  He had thoughts about your ass, too, albeit he felt guilty about having them. Remember, these are men who don’t get to see comely women very often.

  I know. I’ll be careful. I still remember how to give rashes.

  I was going to offer to melt the lusty one’s gonads for you, but a rash would be acceptable.

  “It’s lifeless down here,” Tylie whispered, brushing Sardelle’s arm.

  The tunnel wasn’t so narrow that they needed to walk that closely, but Tylie eyed the roughhewn walls and ceiling as if they might collapse at any moment. The air did feel thick and oppressive, even though Sardelle could hear a fan working in the distance, bringing in fresh air.

  “There are miners working,” she said quietly.

  Some solace. The criminals-turned-miners would probably be even less enthused about roaming “witches” than the soldiers. She distinctly remembered how she had entered this new world, with the two hardened men who had helped pull her out of her stasis chamber radiating thoughts of lust and sadism. They would have acted on those thoughts, had she not deployed her rashes. Even though much had happened in the last few months, now that she was back here, she remembered the incident vividly, as if it had taken place yesterday. She might not have reacted to the soldiers’ mutterings, but she would not let Tylie experience anything close to what she had endured.

  “No plants, no insects, no animals,” Tylie said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “The people are scary. Afraid. Hate. Anger. So much anger. All of them.”

  “The people? The miners? Are you shielding yourself, the way we’ve been working on?”

  “Yes, but I can still feel them.”

  Sardelle wrapped her arm around Tylie’s shoulders. “We won’t stay long. Most sorcerers I knew who had soulblades had to go through a trial before being given the opportunity to bond with them. You can think of this as your trial.”

  Sardelle had no idea if the Cofah had possessed similar rituals. She was trying not to think about the fact that Phelistoth wanted to lead them to a Cofah soulblade. She hoped they would come across an Iskandian one first, one that would be a good fit for Tylie, and that there wouldn’t be time to keep searching for others.

  Up ahead, Phelistoth gave her a long look over his shoulder.

  Sardelle kept her chin up and did not look away, though the idea that he was reading her thoughts made her uncomfortable. She had her mental shields up, as she always did around him. They would have been sufficient against most sorcerers, but perhaps he had some mind-reading power that was different, that could breech her defenses without her knowing it. He had been certain about her hopes of keeping Tylie here, in this country. She didn’t know how he could feel loyal to the Cofah, not when they had been the ones drawing his blood for their own purposes and keeping him weak in that pyramid. She stared at the back of his head, willing him to hear those thoughts.

  This time, he did not look back.

  A group of miners had come into view. They were in an area that appeared to have been recently hollowed out with explosives. Several half-filled carts sat on freshly laid iron rails. The men held pickaxes and shovels, but they had all stopped working. They watched Phelistoth, Sardelle, and Tylie approach.

  Several whispered conversations passed between the rough men. Dirt coated their hands, and their clothes were worn, ripped, and equally dirty, though it wasn’t their appearances that made Sardelle tag them as rough. As Tylie had mentioned, most of their minds were full of anger and discontent. Sardelle did not want to open herself to it, but she was aware of Jaxi’s warning and wanted to be ready if someone tried something.

  “You men have work,” Sergeant Jenneth said. “Get to it.”

  Several miners in the group of ten sneered at him. A few went back to shoveling, though they did not put much effort into it. Others simply stared at Sardelle and Tylie. Because they were women? Or because they remembered her and knew she was a sorceress?

  “How much farther, Phel?” Tylie whispered as they passed the group, the men’s gazes following them.

  Sardelle pressed her fingers together, readying a defense if they needed it. The soldiers crowded close, and none of the miners stepped toward them. Only their eyes moved, watching.

  She started to breathe out a sigh of relief once they’d passed out of sight, but distant shuffling reached her ears. Sounds from the tunnel behind them? Were those miners following them? She reached with her senses. Yes, they were.

  “Wonderful,” she murmured.

  “What?” Tylie asked.

  Sardelle flicked her hand in dismissal. Tylie probably already knew. If she didn’t, Sardelle did not want to worry her, though she might have to bring it up eventually. The men seemed to be up to something. Given the animosity that shrouded the miners, she suspected that more than curiosity motivated their interest. It was amazing that Ridge had managed to gain some respect from these people when he had been the commander here, far more than the previous commander had managed. And, from the brief scene she had witnessed as they landed, also far more than Therrik had managed.

  Therrik isn’t a national hero. And he doesn’t wear that dashing cap and goggles.

  I’ll let Ridge know you find his headwear appealing.

  He already knows. I told you I share my insights with him.

  Ah, yes.

  Phelistoth turned off the main tunnel and into a dark one. The soldiers shared more mutters with each other. Sergeant Jenneth grabbed the last lantern near the intersection. Two other men jogged back to get more.

  Phelistoth took more turns, entering a spider web of narrow passages. In spots, uneven alcoves and divots had been chiseled out of the rock. Had some of her people’s belongings been found here? The walls were not the homogeneous stone of the mountain itself, but rubble that had been compacted over the centuries, with dirt smashed between the boulders like mortar.

  The tunnel widened, then ended in a larger chamber with piles of dirt and rock mounded against the walls. Ore cart tracks had not been laid this far back, and there were no timber supports as there had been in the main passages.

  The two remaining soldiers lingered farther back, the light from their lanterns barely illuminating the low-ceilinged chamber. Sardelle could scarcely see Phelistoth’s outline in the deep shadows. She could have conjured light, but she was aware of the nervous glances the soldiers kept trading—and the fact that the other two hadn’t rejoined them. When she reached out with her mind, she found them still back in the main passage, leaning against a wall and rolli
ng cigarettes. At least the group of miners had disappeared.

  Probably to get more shovels and pickaxes to swing at us, Jaxi thought. We may have to fight our way out.

  I’m sure we can get past a few men armed with digging tools.

  Shall I warn Ridge that his soldiers aren’t being assiduous with their tour guide and protection services?

  Sardelle nibbled on her lip. She could no longer reach Ridge herself, and she worried that Jaxi’s phrasing might cause him to worry. Even if Jaxi was circumspect, he might worry. Sardelle did not want him to feel obligated to send more troops down, not when he needed all of the men up there to fortify the installation.

  No, she decided. We’ll be fine.

  You say that, but you haven’t seen what Phelistoth is planning yet.

  You can’t read his thoughts, can you?

  That would have been useful.

  No, Jaxi said, but I can guess based on the way he’s studying that chamber and staring up into the rock above it. I doubt he’s looking with his puny human eyes.

  “Stand back,” Phelistoth instructed. He looked toward Tylie, and Sardelle had the impression the warning was for her and that he didn’t care if she or anyone else heeded it. But then his gaze locked onto hers. “And shield yourselves.” His gaze flicked to Tylie, then back to Sardelle.

  A warning to protect his… whatever she was to him? Pupil?

  Rider, Jaxi said as Sardelle backed out of the chamber, waving for Tylie to follow. That’s what the sorceresses who rode dragons into battle were called.

  I know that, but I don’t think those people were necessarily Receivers or that they had the same relationship.

  They might have been. There must have been some reason for the cranky, arrogant dragons to put up with having humans clambering all over their backs.

  Should you be calling him cranky and arrogant when he’s close enough to hear you? Sardelle asked. I don’t want him to melt you into a pile of scrap. Especially when you’re attached to my waist.