6.0 - Raptor

by Lindsay Buroker

  Cas tried to jerk the blade away before it struck, but Kasandral had a mind of its own, and slammed downward, the blow inevitable. Cas screamed, dropping the sword and stumbling back. It was too late. She had killed another friend.

  Cas woke with a jolt, clunking her head on the cabinets above the bed. She clenched the blankets with both hands, confusion racing through her thoughts, and she groped to remember where she was and what was going on.

  “Cas?” came a soft voice from across the room.

  She peered blearily toward it, reality slowly coming together for her. Tolemek. She was in his lab, the daylight beyond the porthole promising it was close to noon. After being up so late, she hadn’t woken earlier. Probably because she had been busy dreaming that awful dream.

  She rubbed her face with a shaking hand and inhaled a deep breath. Her jaw ached from being clenched in her sleep. Dampened with sweat, her nightgown stuck to her body, and it was rucked up, twisted all about her hips.

  The bed creaked as Tolemek sat on the other end. “Bad dream?”

  He touched her shoulder. Cas flinched away before she could catch herself. She saw the hurt in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything. For a moment, she couldn’t say anything, either. In part because her mouth was so dry, but also because looking at him filled her with a sense of anxiety, almost of irritation. He was the enemy, came a thought from the back of her mind.

  She closed her eyes and clenched her fist. No. Not again.

  “Yes,” she made herself say. “Nightmare.”

  Tolemek was a friend—more than a friend. He wasn’t an enemy, no matter what ancient blood flowed through his veins. In her mind, she glowered at Kasandral. She had left the sword in the box and tucked beneath her bunk on the other side of the ship, but it hadn’t mattered. It had still touched her. Maybe not as powerfully as it had when she had been carrying it in a sheath on her back, but keeping it in that box, no matter how shielded it supposedly was, couldn’t entirely extinguish its power, its reach.

  “I’m sorry,” Cas whispered.

  Tolemek lifted his hand again, as if to reach out and touch her face, but he lowered it to his lap. “Can I get you anything?”

  Cas’s heart crumpled. She didn’t want to be untouchable. She loved Tolemek, damn it. Why couldn’t the sword get over that? Blood didn’t make a man.

  Even though her mind knew that, she couldn’t get rid of the uncomfortable feeling she experienced from being so close to him. The day before, the sword hadn’t seemed to be bothered by Tolemek—she had barely been aware of its presence. Maybe the battle with the sorceress’s magic had wakened it. Or maybe her own treacherous dreams had called out to it somehow, rousing it from its rest.

  “No. But thank you.” Cas pushed herself free of the blankets and out of bed, tugging her rumpled nightshirt into place.

  Tolemek looked at her for a moment—the damp garment hugged her modest curves—but quickly looked away. Cas winced. She wanted him to be able to look. They were both supposed to be able to look, to touch, to enjoy each other’s company. She rested her hand on the side of his head and leaned forward to kiss him, but she kept it brief. Her senses crawled, newly aware of what he was, that he wasn’t entirely human.

  She backed away, almost feeling nauseated. “I need some fresh air.”

  She grabbed her pack with her clothes and belongings in it and hurried for the door.

  “Cas?” Tolemek still sat on the bed, gazing after her, his eyes sad. “Are you sure there’s not anything I can do?”

  Throw the sword over the side of the airship and into some forgotten ravine, she thought. But that would be a betrayal to her country and to her king.

  “Finish creating a weapon that can kill dragons and sorceresses, please.” She forced a smile, though she was sure it was wan, then fled.

  She washed up, changed into her uniform, and headed up to the deck. She hadn’t been lying about needing fresh air, and she inhaled the mountain scents, damp grasses, fir trees, and moss, willing them to clear her mind of the lingering images of the dream. No matter how hard she had scrubbed in the modest washroom, she hadn’t been able to scrub away the memory of the sword cutting down Sardelle.

  Cas walked toward the railing by the fliers, in part to avoid the carpentry noises coming from the other side of the ship, repairs still underway, and in part because seeing the craft offered some comfort. Even if neither of these was her flier, the one she had always used while out on Wolf Squadron missions, they felt familiar, more a home than her barracks room ever had been. She ran a hand along one of the bronze hulls. With a pang, she realized she had missed them, missed being with the squadron. Years ago, she might have only entered the academy and the air school at Zirkander’s suggestion, but somewhere along the way, being a pilot had become something she enjoyed, a part of her identity.

  Clanks came from one of the cockpits. Judging by the bands of machine gun ammunition lying on the deck next to the flier, someone was doing a maintenance check and reloading the weapons.

  Pimples sat up, his head coming into view. He leaned over the edge, about to climb out, but he paused. “Oh, hullo, Raptor. Can you hand those up to me?”

  Cas lifted the bands so he could reach them. “Need any help?”

  She should have also been up on deck, attending to one of the craft instead of sleeping so late. Even if General Ort had flown yesterday, it was expected that the lower-ranking officer would take care of maintenance. If she had been out here doing that, she might have been saved from that nightmare.

  “Nah.” Pimples bent, securing the bands. “This is my last task. These girls are ready for another battle, though I’m hoping our next foes won’t be invisible.”

  Cas thought an invisible airship sounded more appealing than a dragon, but she kept the thought to herself. She would have preferred a straightforward battle against enemies that did not have any magic. Who would have thought she would miss the days of skirmishes with pirates?

  Pimples clambered down, landing on the deck in front of her. “Thanks.” He frowned at her. “You doing all right?”

  Cas sighed. How poorly did she look that everyone was asking her that? “Fine.”

  “Is it Tolemek?”

  “No.”

  “The sword?”

  She hesitated. What had he heard about the sword? Had the truth finally come out about Apex? Did everybody know now? Surely not, or there would be accusing stares, not concerned ones.

  “Sort of.”

  “Are you worried about the dragon?”

  She didn’t have to hesitate before giving that answer. “Yes.”

  “Me too.”

  “You’ll be fine,” she said. He didn’t have to worry about piloting someone carrying a sword that seemed as content to kill allies as enemies. Cas waved a hand toward the railing. “I’m going to walk around the ship a bit.” She hoped he would realize that she did not want company.

  Pimples stuck his hands in his pockets. “Sure.”

  As she headed away, he stared after her. Then he took a step. “Wait, Raptor? Cas?”

  “Yes?” she asked, afraid he was going to ask if she was happy with Tolemek and offer himself as an alternative. She hated feeling wary around someone she had considered a friend—and still wanted to consider a friend—but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to deal with relationship confusion, but she cringed at the idea of having to turn him down again. Of course, she hadn’t exactly made her feelings clear back then, when he had kissed her in front of everyone. Zirkander had stepped in and waved him away. Maybe she shouldn’t have brushed it off; maybe she should have talked to him about it. But she did not know what to say—she never had when it came to admirers. Right now, she couldn’t even imagine why she would have an admirer.

  Because he didn’t know what she’d done.

  Pimples stepped closer and glanced around. With most of the activity on the other side of the ship, they had the area to themselves, with only the craggy mountains drifti
ng past as witnesses.

  “I never got a chance to say… well, to apologize. We haven’t really been alone since I, ah, well, since you came back from Cofahre.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean I do know, but I shouldn’t have been so, uhm, impetuous. I was just relieved to see that you were alive and that you’d made it home with all of your limbs and fingernails attached.”

  Cas relaxed an iota. He hadn’t come any closer, and he didn’t look like he would try to touch her. All he seemed to want was to clear the air.

  “I was relieved about that too,” she said.

  “I imagine so. Anyway, I just wanted say I was sorry for surprising you and assuming, ah, you know. I was hoping things could be normal again and that you wouldn’t be—well, things seemed awkward. And when you left the squadron, I was afraid—I mean, I wasn’t sure if it had something to do with that. I didn’t want—don’t want—you to be uncomfortable.”

  Cas stared at him. He thought that her leaving might have had something to do with him? Because he’d kissed her last winter? Seven gods, how could he have thought such a thing?

  Pimples was looking back at her, his lip caught between his teeth and the most earnest expression on his face.

  “I didn’t leave because of that.” She almost laughed, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He probably didn’t want to hear about just how little she had been thinking of him in the last month. She had hardly been thinking of anyone except herself. Did that make her selfish? Probably. “It was because of Apex.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “I miss him too.”

  “I’m the reason…” If nobody knew, aside from the core group of Zirkander’s people who had been on the mission with them, maybe she shouldn’t say anything. But if other people did know, maybe they would be less understanding than Sardelle, Tolemek, and Zirkander had been. Maybe they would blame her, as they should. She took a breath and finished with, “I’m the reason he died.”

  She couldn’t make herself be utterly blunt, to say that she had killed him by her own hand. It wasn’t evasion so much as she didn’t want to explain the sword. Everything still hurt too much. She didn’t want to talk about it. Already, she wished she hadn’t said anything.

  “Oh,” Pimples repeated. “I’d heard—well, some people thought it might be something like that, that you blamed yourself. The general wouldn’t say anything about it when people asked.”

  No, Zirkander always protected his people, whether they deserved it or not.

  “I’m sorry.” Pimples stepped forward and hugged her before she knew what was happening. “It must have been horrible for you.”

  Cas stiffened. “It was horrible for Apex.”

  “I know. But for you too. We all make mistakes, but for us, it’s always possible one could cause someone’s death. I worry about that, too, for me. About screwing up in a way that…” He shrugged and stepped back, releasing her. “Sorry. I guess I make everything about me, don’t I? I’ll work on that.”

  “I…” Cas didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t wanted him to give her sympathy. She’d thought someone might finally speak the truth, that Apex had deserved to live, that someone who could cut him down didn’t.

  She looked away, blinking aside tears of frustration.

  “I’m sorry, Cas,” Pimples said, holding up a hand. “I shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have brought any of it up.”

  “No.” She managed to pull her thoughts away from her own misery. Hadn’t she just been acknowledging how self-absorbed she had been lately? “It’s good that you asked, because I don’t want you thinking any of this—any of my problems—are your fault.”

  “Good. I don’t now.” He stepped back, nodding and giving her more space. “But if you want to talk about anything, or want any math help, let me know, all right?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “And look… about Tolemek?”

  Some of her wariness returned. “What?”

  “Do you think you’ll marry him?” His face screwed in an expression somewhere between good humor and disbelief.

  Cas smiled slightly, glad to switch to a different topic, even if that one also wasn’t that comfortable at the moment, with memories of the sword’s influence fresh in her mind. “I haven’t thought about marriage yet.”

  “Will you let me know if you do? And the month would be good also, or at least the year and the season.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “There’s not some kind of gambling pool going on, is there?”

  “No, no, of course not.”

  She narrowed her eyes further.

  “Well, just a small one. Wolf and Tiger Squadrons only. And some of the boys on the maintenance crew. And General Ort.”

  “General Ort?”

  “Sure, he’s old and has money to throw around. He gets in on all the pools. He put in nearly fifty nucros on the baby pool.”

  “The baby pool?”

  “For General Zirkander and Sardelle. For them, marriage seems a foregone conclusion, so we’re betting on when babies will pop out.”

  Cas coughed, or maybe it was a laugh, at the notion of babies popping out like corks in wine bottles. She might have been disappointed that Pimples had so easily brushed aside her confession, but at least he had lightened her mood.

  Major Cildark walked around the fliers, a coil of rope over one shoulder, and a bucket of sealant in his hand. He frowned at them. “If you two cloud-kissers don’t have anything better to do, we could use some more help. We’re less than four hours out from our destination, and we might be looking at an even bigger battle this time.”

  “Yes, sir,” Cas and Pimples said together.

  As they trailed after him, Cas tried to keep the light thoughts in her mind, such as did Zirkander know about the baby pool, but she couldn’t entirely ignore the nervous twinges in her gut, the acknowledgment that in four hours, she might have to pull that sword out of its case again. She hoped Tolemek and Sardelle weren’t anywhere around when she did so.

  Chapter 11

  Sardelle couldn’t reach Ridge. Had he heard the cave-in up there? Did anybody know she and the others had been buried? Would help be coming, or would they be on their own? Even if Ridge had people clearing the cave-in right now, it would take days for them to reach all the way back here, if not weeks. Mundane mining methods weren’t speedy, and she and the others did not have food or water to last that long. Not that supplies mattered when her shield would give out long before they starved to death. Their air might run out even before that.

  You’re full of cheery thoughts, Jaxi said.

  I know. Can you tell Ridge what happened? I’d feel cheerier if I knew Captain Bosmont was working on a way to dig us out.

  I can’t reach Ridge, either. Phelistoth is exuding pain and doesn’t have his mental shields up. His aura is trampling all over everything, making it hard for me to get past the noise. Why couldn’t he have gotten himself squashed in human form?

  He must have thought he’d be more likely to survive in his natural form.

  Maybe it would be better if he hadn’t survived.

  Don’t be uncharitable. Besides, I think we’re going to need his help to get out of here. Sardelle pushed herself to her feet, grimacing at bloody scrapes on her palms. Dirt and grit stuck to the fresh wounds, and she gingerly brushed them off.

  The two soldiers watched her, but not with hostility or fear, not anymore. They seemed to have realized their predicament and that she would be the only one who might get them out of it. If only she could.

  “He’s hurting,” Tylie whispered. She crouched on the other side of the bubble of protection, her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared at Phelistoth’s unmoving tail, the two inches of it that they could see sticking out from under all the rubble.

  Good, Jaxi thought.

  Ssh. “He should be able to heal himself, so long as he’s conscious. He is still breathing, isn’t he?
” Sardelle eyed the wall of boulders that hid the rest of Phelistoth from them. From everything she had read and seen herself thus far, it took a lot to kill a dragon, but even they weren’t immortal.

  “Barely.”

  Tylie stood up, padding barefoot to Sardelle’s side. Where she had lost her sandals, Sardelle didn’t know, but she was no longer surprised to find her without footwear. Tylie rested her hand on Sardelle’s dirty sleeve, looking up with large, imploring eyes.

  “Can you teach me to heal him?” she asked. “To perform shurako?”

  “Did he ask for that?” Sardelle had never shared the term with Tylie before. “Healing through a mind link? Transferring your life’s energy to him?”

  “No, he didn’t ask for it. He’s not answering me. I don’t think he’s awake. But he told me about it once before. He said I wasn’t ready to learn it, but he needs it now, Sardelle. He didn’t get his defenses up in time—he was too focused on something up there.” Tylie waved toward the ceiling. “The mountain is crushing him. What if he doesn’t ever wake up?”

  Sardelle rubbed the back of her neck, certain Tylie didn’t know the ramifications of what she was asking. “Can you try to heal him normally, with what I’ve shown you? I can’t while I’m focusing on this.” She nodded toward the barrier above them, with the boulders and dirt pressing against it, ready to crush them if she released it for an instant. “His own body is strong. He probably doesn’t need too much of your energy to heal.”

  Tylie looked dubiously at the visible nub of tail.

  “If you’re not practiced at shurako, you could hurt yourself.” Kill yourself, Sardelle almost said, but most people passed out before that happened, at least when healing other humans. She had no idea how much more demanding it might be to transfer energy into a dragon. It would be like trying to fill a well with an eyedropper. She did know the term arose from those ancient times when dragons and human riders had shared links.

  “I’ll try.” Tylie returned to crouching, as close to Phelistoth’s tail as she could get without touching the barrier. Whether she meant to try healing or the transfer of energy was not clear, and Sardelle almost reached out with her mind to watch.