6.0 - Raptor

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Of course I am. Who else would you want to go up with? Pimples? Duck?”

  “No, sir. And definitely not General Ort. He wouldn’t let me climb up on the wings so I could reach anything with the sword. That’s why I had to throw it.”

  “He wouldn’t let you trot back and forth on the wings? Not even if you tied a rope to your ankle?”

  “We didn’t have a rope.”

  “Well, that was shortsighted. I’ll make sure we have one.”

  “Yes, sir. Good.”

  Zirkander pointed toward the door. “I’m going to make coffee for Kaika. You want one? I hear you all have been keeping odd hours up on that airship.”

  Cas snorted. Zirkander didn’t look like he had slept in a while, either. “Are generals supposed to make coffee for captains and ex-lieutenants?”

  “Absolutely not, but Therrik is keeping all of the privates busy fixing things. It’s terribly inconvenient. Being a general is not quite the reward you’d think. Never let your bosses promote you too far.” His expression grew a touch wistful, but he waved in dismissal and started for the door.

  “No chance of that,” Cas muttered.

  She hadn’t meant the words for him, but he turned around again. “No? I thought you might come back after this. After being up there in the sky again. Wearing the uniform again. No chance of that?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it yet, sir.” She had only donned the uniform because it had made sense, and she was only here because the king had asked her to that meeting. Still, she had to admit that even with worry knotting her gut all the time, she had enjoyed being in the air again, and she’d even liked joking with Pimples, especially after he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to try to kiss her again. It had made her miss Solk, Blazer, Beeline, and the others even more, and want to be a part of the squadron again. “But even if I came back, the odds of me getting promoted, after everything that’s happened, have to be close to nil.” She smiled, not wanting him to think she was bitter, or even that she had been thinking about promotions. Hells, just a few days ago, she had been trying to start a new career with her father.

  “Hah. You’re not under the delusion that promotions are merit based, are you?” His mouth twisted into an expression that she couldn’t quite read. Wryness? Bitterness? Anguish?

  “I… yes. I mean, you’ve deserved yours, sir. Nobody can doubt that.”

  Zirkander returned to her side, this time crouching in the dirt, his back to the wall. He waved for her to squat down beside him. “I was just talking about some of this with Sardelle. Look, the army promotes people based on its needs, not yours. I’ve seen plenty of people passed over for promotions who deserved them, because there wasn’t a slot open for a captain or a major in their unit, and I’ve seen others… well, let’s just say that I’ve failed upward at least three times.” There was that twist to his mouth again, something too dark to be considered wry. “Of course, opportunities for promotion come up a lot in our line of work. No need to explain why. If you come back—” he raised his eyebrows expectantly, “—you’ll get yours when you’ve got a couple more years under your belt. And you’ll deserve it too. Marksmanship aside, you’re steady and calm up there, and the others respect you. You’ll get awards too. More of them. Invitations to the castle for celebratory dinners.” He gave her an arch look, one that was probably meant to remind her that she had failed to show up for the last celebratory dinner invitation to the castle. As if she could have gone, could have accepted some medal, after she had killed Apex.

  She shook her head. “That’s not—Sir, Apex is… That was unforgivable.”

  “You’d be amazed at how much can be forgiven if you’re indispensable to your unit.” He looked straight into her eyes. “You might even get awards and promotions you feel you don’t deserve.”

  Her breath caught. He knew. He knew how she felt, that she didn’t deserve accolades or sympathy, and that getting all that was far worse than if people would just condemn her, the way they did Tolemek. That would have made sense. Seeing him blamed for something he hadn’t truly done, while she wasn’t blamed for something she had done… It was devastating. She hadn’t thought anyone else understood, but Zirkander did.

  “What do you do when that happens, sir? When you’re wrongfully praised? Or wrongfully unaccused?” She looked away from him, toward the ground between her boots. “How do you live with yourself?”

  “You just go on, try to become the person they think you are.”

  Just go on? She’d been doing that but felt so hollow inside, so empty. How could she have a future when she had denied it of someone else, of someone who hadn’t been an enemy trying to invade her homeland, but who had been a friend?

  “Seems like there should be more of a punishment,” Cas said.

  “Coming back to work and being with your colleagues isn’t punishment enough?” He smiled, but his eyes were serious.

  That would be a punishment, in a manner of speaking, dealing with the condolences, the hugs. She’d been hiding from that, not wanting to see those she had betrayed.

  “If you want another punishment, there’s nothing like the weight of obligation,” Zirkander said. “As I’ve been told, in one general’s lecture or another, if you’re fortunate enough to have been born with a gift, you owe it to the world to use it in such a way that it benefits the greater good.”

  “Even if your gift is shooting people?”

  “Especially if your gift is shooting people.” He turned his palm upward. “Look, Cas. It’s up to you, but if you want to punish yourself, I hope you’ll do it in a way that doesn’t deprive your team of your skills and take you out of the skies. We need you up there.” He thumped her on the knee and stood up. “Coffee?”

  “I—yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me until you’ve tasted it,” he called as he walked away.

  She snorted softly. She hadn’t been talking about the coffee.

  Chapter 14

  From up on the airship, the explosions in the tram shaft sounded as faint booms. Ridge paused at the railing to look over the edge and down into the well-lit courtyard. Heavy raindrops spattered onto his cap, and lightning flashed above the peaks, promising a big storm. General Ort and Major Cildark had arrived an hour earlier, anchoring the big craft above the west wall. Ridge had climbed up, via a rope ladder dangling down from the deck, for a meeting with them, and was now heading to the other end of the ship, where Tolemek had returned to his laboratory.

  Down below, smoke wafted out of the dark shaft, and men with shovels stepped back. A few meters from the hole, Colonel Therrik stood beside Captain Kaika, pointing and saying something. He looked gruff—as usual—but she appeared unconcerned. Maybe he was just being gruff about his lost breakfast. He had sent a private to clean the mess out of the back of Ridge’s flier rather than doing it himself. Soldiers must love working for him.

  Ridge pulled back from the railing and continued on. He trusted Kaika to clear the tram shaft effectively. For her, that should be an easy task. Blowing up the mountain and trapping a dragon inside? He was more concerned about that. Surprisingly, General Ort hadn’t objected to his plan. Maybe it wasn’t that surprising. Ort preferred plans that were conservative and safe, and the original plan that involved Cas chasing after a dragon in the sky with a sword wasn’t conservative or safe. Ridge just hoped they could trick Morishtomaric into going down there. He hadn’t shared the plan with many people, but now that he had made a pest of himself, the dragon knew him personally. His brain might be the first one Morishtomaric rifled through.

  Maybe he could arrange to be asleep or unconscious when he arrived. Would that stop a dragon from gleaning information? Maybe they could all be unconscious, at least those in the know, and Phelistoth could relay the message. Ridge slowed down as he descended the ship’s ladder and entered the interior passageway. He had been joking with himself, but now he wondered if that might actually work. Tolemek did have those knockout g
renades. Since Colonel Therrik didn’t know anything about what had become Plan A yet, he could oversee the defenses of the fort, if the dragon wasn’t fooled.

  Ridge knocked before entering the laboratory, in case Tolemek had something toxic or explosive balanced precariously. He took the grunt that came from within for an invitation to enter. He found Tolemek with his hands pressed against a countertop as he frowned down at three ceramic pots. A greenish smoke came from one, and the air had a dubious tang that left Ridge looking for portholes.

  Tolemek glanced at him, then turned fully, standing up straight and almost clunking his head on the low ceiling. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Have they gotten Tylie out yet?”

  “Not yet.” Ridge lifted a hand. “So yes, something is still wrong, but nothing is more wrong than it was before.”

  “Comforting. Why are you here?” Judging by Tolemek’s continuing frown, he did not believe it could be for a good reason.

  “Aside from missing your cheerful company, I came to ask about a couple of things. First off, do you have any idea if a telepath can read your thoughts if you are knocked out? Or would he just find it that much easier to saunter through your brain?”

  Tolemek’s frown of disapproval turned to a frown of puzzlement. He had quite the repertoire when it came to frowns. “I don’t know, but if you’re unconscious, you presumably wouldn’t be thinking thoughts to be read. He—are we talking about the dragon?—might just have access to your dreams.”

  “So, he’d get an eyeful of some lurid fantasies rather than, say, secret plans to annihilate him?”

  “Lurid fantasies, Zirkander? Really? Doesn’t your brain ever take a break from thinking about sex? You’re forty years old. That can’t be natural.”

  “I turned forty-one a couple of weeks ago, for your information, and that’s not that old. Also, I sleep with a woman who inspires such thoughts.” Now it was Ridge’s turn to scowl. How had they ended up talking about this? “To bring us back to the subject, if someone were to take a whiff of your knockout potion, how long would they be out? Fifteen? Twenty minutes?”

  “It depends on the dose. A small dose might only make you lose consciousness for ten minutes. A bigger one could last an hour. I can do the calculation based on your bodyweight.” Tolemek’s frown briefly turned to a grin, albeit a wolfish one. “I’d be happy to knock you out.”

  “I’m sure you would. If we do this, you and Therrik can play Fangs and Swords to see who wins the honor. Granted, your way would be less painful.”

  “What is this about?”

  “Just a thought for now,” Ridge said, “but if you could give me a couple of those grenades or doses of the formula, that might be useful. Is there an antidote, by chance? In case someone needs to be woken earlier?”

  “No.”

  “Ah. All right, next question. Can you make me some special bullets that might actually pierce a dragon’s thick hide?”

  Tolemek snorted. “If I could do that—” That was as far as he got. He spun back toward his vats of potions, gripped his chin, and stared down at them. “Could that work?”

  “I assume that question isn’t for me.”

  Tolemek ignored him. “I had been thinking of a harpoon or a cannonball, but your bullets might actually have a chance of hitting him, if we figure out a way to lower his magical shields. I’m afraid… Cas might have to be that way, as originally planned.”

  Ridge almost mentioned that he had another plan in effect, but the fewer people who knew about the new Plan A, the better. He would already have to drug Sardelle, Ort, Cildark, and himself. Ridge didn’t even know if the knockout tactic would work. He needed to talk to Sardelle first. He hoped Kaika was making good progress down there.

  “I don’t know if your bullets would penetrate the dragon’s scales, even if he was distracted and didn’t have a magical defense up,” Tolemek said, facing Ridge again.

  “Yes, that’s why I’m here. To see if you can fancy them up. They don’t penetrate anything on a dragon right now.”

  “I can’t do anything to increase the ballistics power of your guns, but if the bullets passed through the dragon’s defenses and hit it, maybe the acid would be able to start eating at the scales.” Tolemek thumped a fist on the counter. “I need a scale to experiment on. Why did those idiots get themselves trapped down there?”

  Those idiots? Sardelle and Tylie? Or Phelistoth and the rest of them? Ridge decided not to share the information he’d received from Jaxi, that Phelistoth had been responsible for the massive cave-in. It wouldn’t do any good, and it would probably frustrate Tolemek further.

  “Well, think about the bullets, will you?” Ridge asked. “I’m useless in the sky without a way to hurt that dragon.”

  “I’m sure that galls you. No chance to be the national hero this time.”

  Ridge did not know how to deflect the snide comment without responding with one of his own, so he simply spread his hands in a helpless gesture. He didn’t want to fight with Tolemek. He preferred to save his snide comments for Therrik. It would be a shame to run out when one was most needed.

  “Let me know if you come up with anything.” Ridge turned toward the door, pausing before heading out. “And also let me know if you want me to send Tylie home when we get her out. I can have Duck take her back to the capital and drop her off at my mom’s house.” There truly was no reason for her to be out there, other than her link to Phelistoth. From what Jaxi had said, the soulblade wasn’t anything that could be retrieved quickly enough to matter against Morishtomaric. They could retrieve it for Tylie once they had dealt with the dragon.

  “I’ll ask her,” Tolemek said.

  Ridge nodded.

  “Zirkander?” Tolemek said.

  Ridge turned back warily. “Yes?”

  “I… Damn it, Zirkander. I don’t know why I always want to clobber you, but I do. I wasn’t even that attached to the career you and your wolf cubs ruined for me. I did lose good men on that ship.” He rubbed his face with both hands with enough ferocity that he was in danger of knocking his lips off. “But that’s war. I understand. I can even understand why your people wouldn’t want to be annexed into the empire, even if I think it would be easier all around if you simply let it happen. I can look at other Iskandians without having these feelings of irritation—they’re just people, and people are the same everywhere. But you—you’re special.” Tolemek lowered his hands and pinned Ridge with an exasperated stare.

  “So my mother tells me,” Ridge said carefully. He wasn’t sure what to do in the face of all this honesty. Tolemek was probably tired and needed to vent.

  “I think that smug, self-contented look you always have on your face has something to do with it.”

  “Most likely.” Agreeing seemed better than arguing. Ridge was starting to feel uncomfortable, and he wondered if he could flee without appearing cowardly. “Was there something else?” He tilted his head toward the passageway.

  Tolemek propped a fist on his hip. “I’m trying to apologize to you, Zirkander.”

  “Ohhh. Was that what that was?”

  “You couldn’t tell?”

  “Sorry, no.” Ridge risked a smile, half expecting Tolemek to blow up and call it smug. “You don’t apologize to Ahn like that, do you?”

  “No,” Tolemek said with feeling. “I don’t want to punch her every time she shows up. I want to… never mind.”

  “Save those dreams for the dragon.”

  “Seven gods, you’re not planning to knock me out, too, are you?”

  “Probably not. Unless you figure out what we’re up to and can give us away.”

  “I’ll do my best not to muse on your guileful plots.”

  “Just make me some bullets.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Tolemek lowered his fist and leaned against the counter. “I hope you had a good birthday.”

  Ridge blushed slightly at the memory of a very enthusiastic night he’
d spent with Sardelle. It had been the last one they had managed—he’d actually found a way to leave work on time that day—and it had inspired some of the lurid dreams he had mentioned. Figuring Tolemek would call him smug if he confessed to it, all he said was, “Nah. I got home late, and a dragon had eaten my cheese.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Actually, Tolemek looked faintly pleased.

  Ridge decided the lie had been the right choice. Maybe later, Tolemek would figure things out with Ahn, and they would find enough happiness that Tolemek need not begrudge someone else his. In the meantime, Ridge could work on keeping his smug self-contentedness to himself.

  It’s a challenge to dim that light when you’re a superior being, came Jaxi’s words as Ridge stepped out into the passageway, closing the door to leave Tolemek to work.

  I assume you’re talking about yourself, rather than considering me superior.

  Naturally. That pleased expression you saw on Tolemek’s face—he was thinking about your nickname.

  Soul snozzle? Ridge grimaced. It was bad enough Jaxi had shared that with the king. Tolemek didn’t need to hear it.

  No, Puddles. General Ort told Pimples about your past, and Tolemek was eavesdropping. Puddles. She snickered into his mind.

  Ridge rubbed his forehead. It didn’t seem fair that he had Jaxi’s company while being deprived of Sardelle’s. Is everyone all right down there?

  Jaxi’s tone sobered. Sardelle, Tylie, and Phelistoth are fine. The miners that were on this level didn’t make it, and some other ones climbed down here and may be planning trouble in the chamber around the tram.

  Trouble for you?