6.0 - Raptor

by Lindsay Buroker

  Ha ha.

  Sardelle did wonder what relationship the sorcerers of old had shared with the dragons to convince them to fight with them. Or maybe it had been the dragons convincing the humans to fight with them. Though why they would need humans, she didn’t know. Cannon fodder in the ancient wars? Had dragons been as territorial as humans? Maybe Phelistoth felt loyal to Cofahre because his ancestors had claimed that land when humans had been little more than hunter-gatherers roaming the hills.

  “Where are we going?” Sergeant Jenneth asked, glancing in the direction of the main passage.

  “Just a ways back there,” Sardelle said, nodding for them to continue backing up.

  “What’s he going to do in there?”

  “Search for something.”

  “Alone in the dark?”

  “It’s his way.”

  “Is he a witch too?” the second soldier, a private asked. He licked his lips, scurrying back to make sure Sardelle didn’t come within touching distance of him.

  “The term would be sorcerer, and not exactly.”

  Rumbles, snaps, and cracks came from the chamber and saved Sardelle from having to explain further. The ground trembled, and she raised a shield to protect herself, Tylie, and the two soldiers. The other two soldiers were too far away for her to include, so she hoped Phelistoth didn’t do anything that might collapse the entire level. Her shield wouldn’t be enough to protect them if that happened, and even Jaxi wouldn’t be able to melt through the half mile of rock that would stand between them and the tram.

  A nervous flutter taunted her stomach at the idea of being trapped down here. This time, there would be no stasis chamber to protect her.

  I’m sure he doesn’t want to trap himself, Jaxi said.

  The cracks escalated and were accompanied by the sound of rocks pounding down, and Sardelle barely “heard” the words in her mind. It reminded her of the cave they had been trapped in on the way here, except the noise seemed even louder and larger in scope.

  The tunnel between them and Phelistoth was dark, so she couldn’t see what was happening in his chamber, but particles of dust and fine rock swirled on the other side of her barrier.

  “Cave-in,” Sergeant Jenneth barked.

  He spun and tried to run toward the main passage. He only made it two steps before crashing into Sardelle’s invisible barrier. Rebounding, he stumbled, almost falling to the quaking floor.

  “What in all the hells?” he blurted.

  The private jumped past him and tried to find a way through the barrier. He patted all along it, then spun toward Sardelle.

  “You’re doing this,” he yelled.

  “To keep the ceiling from falling on us, yes,” Sardelle said calmly. She rested her hand on Jaxi’s hilt. Performing two kinds of magic at once wasn’t easy, so she would have a hard time defending herself while maintaining the shield.

  You may want to let them go. I’ll happily defend you from them, but I might cut off something they’re fond of in my enthusiasm to protect you.

  “The witch has us trapped,” Sergeant Jenneth yelled, jumping to his feet. “Is anybody out there?”

  Sardelle was about to lower her shield and let them run, but a boulder slammed to the ground, half blocking the route back to the main passage. She grumbled to herself. They wouldn’t like it, but she had to keep them here until Phelistoth finished.

  A flash of orange came from his chamber, the light cutting through the dust in the air. No, it burned through the dust, heat battering at her shield. The battering reminded her of the air battle with the other dragon, and for a bewildered moment, she thought he was attacking them. Then the light and heat disappeared, and she noticed the air was clear of dust. Had he incinerated it?

  “He’s melting a tunnel in the rock,” Tylie said, her hands pressed to Sardelle’s barrier as she gazed toward the chamber. “And getting rid of the molten stone as he goes.”

  Getting rid of? If her shields hadn’t been up, Phelistoth would have gotten rid of the four of them.

  He did warn you, Jaxi said. By dragon standards, he was quite polite. More urgently, she added, Watch out.

  Sardelle spun back toward the soldiers as they drew their swords and stepped toward her. She started to draw her own blade, but Jaxi flicked the men back with a wave of her power. They stumbled into her barrier again, their eyes wider and more full of fear than ever.

  “We’ll let you go as soon as the shaking stops,” Sardelle said, the words vibrating as they came out, her shield doing nothing to stop the earth from trembling under their feet. “You go out there, and you may die.” Especially if Phelistoth’s new hobby was heating the air by thousands of degrees to melt solid stone.

  “You’re doing this,” one man said.

  “Actually, our comrade is doing it. To get something valuable out of the rock.” She doubted she could reason with them, but if she could keep them distracted from trying to fight her, that would be worthwhile. Worrying about them divided her attention and made it harder to keep the barrier up. She was concerned that the other soldiers and miners on their level would be affected by the heat. She hoped they had run to the tram as soon as the quaking started. Why hadn’t Phelistoth warned them of what he planned?

  Because he doesn’t care if people get flattened. Or if we get flattened. Don’t worry about these two. I’ll keep them in line. As Jaxi finished speaking, the men gasped, dropping their swords. The grips of their weapons glowed cherry red. They hadn’t reached for their pistols, but the butts of those were smoking.

  One of the soldiers shrieked, startling Sardelle. She reinforced her shield before turning to look at what had alarmed him.

  The end of a silver-scaled tail lay in the tunnel, the tip almost reaching her barrier. The rest of it disappeared into darkness and dust that had filled the air again, and she couldn’t glimpse the body, though Sardelle had a sense that the chamber was much larger now—it had to be if Phelistoth had changed into his normal form. The tip of the tail swished back and forth, reminding her of a cat perched on a fence and watching a bird feeder. Then it froze.

  “Phel?” Tylie called, her voice concerned. “The sword?”

  An explosion of energy coursed through the mountain, and the ground heaved. Sardelle was hurled through the air. Her shield faltered, but even as she fell, she flung her arm upward and reinforced it with a shudder of power that Jaxi matched. Rocks hammered into their invisible barrier from the top, and boulders tumbled down all around them. Their lanterns fell and went out. Jaxi glowed, a silvery light that illuminated the rockfall that was in the process of burying them.

  From her knees, Sardelle was scarcely aware of the soldiers huddling, their arms cupping their heads. Only Tylie had somehow remained on her feet, her hands splayed and stretched toward Phelistoth. The tail had disappeared under rubble. She screamed, but Sardelle could barely hear it over the cacophony of the boulders slamming down.

  What seemed like hours passed before the roar of the mountain softened, individual clunks growing audible instead of the constant barrage of noise. By Jaxi’s light, Sardelle stared at the wall of rocks all around them, of boulders lying atop her barrier, waiting to crush them if her concentration faltered again. The tip of Phelistoth’s tail poked out from under the rubble wall, touching the edge of her shield. It wasn’t moving.

  “Phel?” Tylie called, a quaver in her voice.

  Sardelle rubbed her face, her hand damp and gritty against her skin. She still felt the dragon’s presence and didn’t think he was dead, but how were they going to get out of here?

  The tunnel is collapsed all the way back to the tram, Jaxi said. And it looks like… yes, two levels above collapsed, too. Buckling down on top of us.

  Sardelle breathed deeply and slowly, struggling to stave off the panic that wanted to descend. This had been her fear, but she hadn’t truly expected it to come to pass. They were trapped, and she had no idea how they would excavate their way to the tram—or if the tram shaft was clea
r. What if it had collapsed, too, and they were utterly buried down here, almost twenty levels below the surface?

  The lower levels of the tram shaft filled with rubble, Jaxi said. Someone will have to dig us out. Or that oversized lout will have to wake up and melt through about a billion tons of rock.

  Lout? Sardelle asked, not because she disagreed, but because she hoped the conversation would take her mind off the fact that they were buried alive. Also the fact that she should stop taking such deep breaths. They would have limited air down here now.

  He had the soulblade in his sight—his mental sight—and then he took off after something else like a squirrel with too many nuts to choose from.

  Something else? You can’t tell what?

  A collapsed room with a vault in it. There are some magical objects inside the vault, but I can’t sense what through the sides. The vault seems to have a dampening effect. Maybe they’re the dragon artifacts he mentioned. Weren’t emergency rations and equipment kept down around this level? Who knows what all was stored in the basement?

  The basement? Sardelle knew what level the miners had called this, but she did not know exactly where in the old Referatu compound they were. She and Jaxi had been on one of the lower levels when they had initially been trapped, but having the mountain fall in and smother everything had left her disoriented. I don’t remember anyone mentioning a vault of artifacts.

  Well, you were just a healer who worked with the military. It’s not like you were stationed here full-time.

  Sardelle had taught here a couple of summers, but she conceded the point. Most of the Referatu leaders had been older. If her people had survived, she might have been a part of the government and come to live here full-time someday, but there was no point in considering that now.

  Sergeant Jenneth lifted his head, and he stared at her. “How—how do we get out?”

  Sardelle looked at the inert dragon tail, only two inches of its silvery tip visible under, as Jaxi had put it, a billion tons of rocks.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Chapter 10

  Ridge was hammering nails into screw holes to secure the fire-warped base of one of the outpost’s big viper guns when the ground started shaking. His first thought was that Captain Bosmont had miscalculated in reopening the tower for personnel, or that one of the timbers supporting the charred structure had fallen away. The half-burned split logs under his knees trembled so fiercely, he expected the entire tower to break away from the fortress wall and tip over. That would make his repairs to the base of the gun irrelevant.

  “Zirkander,” Therrik bellowed from the courtyard. “What is your witch doing?”

  Ridge climbed to his feet, bracing himself on the low wall surrounding the weapons platform. The tower continued to shake, but it wasn’t the only thing doing so. Down in the courtyard, numerous soldiers wobbled as the earth trembled. Timbers erected as braces to support damaged buildings toppled over. A straw roof over the small stables collapsed. Bricks flew out of the crumbling walls of the mess hall.

  Therrik stood in the middle of the chaos, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared up at Ridge.

  “She’s not powerful enough to make an earthquake,” Ridge said, though he didn’t care to discuss magic, especially not her magic, with so many people around who might overhear.

  Someone ran up to Therrik, waving a clipboard and pointing to one of the oversized double-doored entrances to the mine system. Ridge ran down the steps, thoughts spinning through his mind. While he doubted Sardelle or even Jaxi could make an earthquake, he knew from recent and firsthand experience that a dragon could, simply with the power of its mind. Was Phelistoth responsible? Sardelle had said that he had reappeared and had healed the injured men, but she hadn’t mentioned if he had gone into the tunnels with her and Tylie. Ridge couldn’t imagine where else he would be lurking, especially since that other dragon seemed to want him dead, but this shaking of the earth could also signal another attack by Morishtomaric.

  Jaxi? Ridge asked silently. I don’t suppose you can hear me?

  He was not surprised when he did not receive an answer. He had no power to transmit his thoughts; if he wanted to communicate with Jaxi or Sardelle, he had to hope one of them was listening to his mind, however that worked. They were probably busy, maybe worrying about the exact same thing he was. The earthquake. As alarming as it was above the ground, it had to be doubly so down there.

  By the time Ridge reached Therrik, the tremors were subsiding. He might have felt relieved about that, but as the shakes and the shouts of men died down, he could hear the report the young soldier was issuing.

  “…been a cave-in. Down in the tram shaft. We’re not sure how far back it goes, but we had nearly forty miners down on the bottom level, and some of our men too.” The soldier looked at Ridge, opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked away.

  Ridge gripped his arm, fear burrowing into his heart. “Which tram shaft?”

  “B shaft, sir.”

  That was the one that led to the tunnels where all of the old books had been found and where Sardelle had originally been found. Ridge closed his eyes, trying to find control. It was too soon to worry. Besides, if anyone could take care of herself and survive a cave-in, it would be Sardelle. Sardelle and Jaxi.

  “Sardelle went down that one, didn’t she?” he asked, though he couldn’t imagine that she would have chosen another one. Already his throat tightened at the thought that he might have lost her.

  No. He wouldn’t allow himself to think that. Not yet.

  “Stay calm, you fool,” he whispered. “Just like skirmishes in the air. Falling apart doesn’t win battles.”

  “Sir?” the young soldier asked.

  Ridge shook his head.

  “The general is talking to himself, Corporal,” Therrik said. “Ignore it. It’s a sign of senility. That’s all.”

  The corporal did not smile at the weak joke. Good man.

  “As soon as we’re sure the tremors are over,” Ridge said, “I want some men and equipment down in that shaft. I want it cleared.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ridge stared at Therrik, half-expecting him to object to the use of men for anything other than rebuilding the defenses. But Therrik wasn’t looking at him. His gaze had turned toward the northern sky behind Ridge’s shoulder. The sun was out today, reflecting off the snow and glaciers on the surrounding mountains. The clear azure sky made it easy to see the large golden figure soaring toward them.

  “Your witch is going to have to wait,” Therrik said, then raised his voice to bellow. “Dragon incoming! Everyone to their duty stations. Sergeant Briner, close those tram doors. This time, none of those damned miners are going to sneak up here to make trouble while we’re fighting.”

  “Yes, sir!” came a dozen calls from around the courtyard.

  Ridge wanted to countermand Therrik, to demand that the doors remain open, but it hardly mattered. If the bottom of the tram shaft was blocked with rubble, nobody would be coming up from those lower levels until they cleared it. And as much as he wanted to order everyone to work on that, he couldn’t, not with that dragon flying straight toward them. If Morishtomaric had decided to finish off the outpost, and his people weren’t able to fight him off, there would be nobody left to dig out those trapped by the cave-in.

  Sardelle, I’m sorry, Ridge whispered in his mind and raced to the wall.

  • • • • •

  The glowing blade swept through the hordes of shaven-headed warriors, moving impossibly fast, leaving a green blur in the twilight air as it cut through rifles, swords, and flesh. Cas charged forward, dodging attacks without effort as she pressed into her foes. Firearms cracked, and she whipped the blade up, somehow deflecting the bullets streaking toward her head. They clanged off the blade and disappeared into the swarm of Cofah soldiers surrounding her.

  She was alone, her allies distant and indistinct shapes in the background. With so many men trying to kill her, she
should have been terrified, should have run, but the familiar stones of Harborgard Castle rose up behind her. She couldn’t let the Cofah soldiers have this road, the cobblestone drive leading straight to the gates.

  Spinning and jumping with flair that her practical father would have chastised her for, she avoided all of those men. Satisfaction welled in her, pride over her skills and pleasure that the sword enhanced them. She lopped off heads and cut down soldiers, barely seeing faces, only knowing that she was protecting Iskandia from its enemies. Soon, her attackers all lay dead at her feet. All except one.

  The sorceress in the golden armor strode toward her, a helmet pulled down over her face, a soulblade glowing in her hand. Cas screamed, remembering the men she had killed with her fireballs. She ran down the sloping road straight toward her.

  Her foe raised a hand and flung one of those fireballs at her, but Kasandral came up, shielding Cas from the heat even as it cut through the flaming sphere. Sliced in half as if it had been a melon, the fireball parted, then dissipated. Cas barely slowed down. She leaped at the sorceress. Their blades met in a screech, metal clashing against metal. Sparks, flames, and glowing motes flew into the air all around them as they fought.

  Cas was the shorter warrior, and the other woman had the advantage of reach, but Kasandral filled Cas with power, her entire body tingling and thrumming, making her feel like a god rather than a mere mortal. She pressed the sorceress back until the woman’s heel caught on a loose cobblestone. For a split second, the sorceress lost her balance. It was all Cas needed. She batted aside the other glowing blade, then plunged Kasandral into the golden armor. The incredibly hard material dented but did not give all the way. Still, her blow knocked the woman onto her back. Her sword flew from her hand, and her helmet fell away. Cas leaped in, angling Kasandral down to pierce the one unarmored part of the sorceress’s body—her face.

  But as the green glow of her blade highlighted that face, it revealed not an evil Cofah sorceress but Sardelle, her blue eyes full of sympathy, of forgiveness.