6.0 - Raptor

by Lindsay Buroker

  Ridge set down his coffee mug. What?

  It’s true. They deserve itchy ink on their naked butts.

  I meant—er. Ridge had no objections to any untoward things, especially when they would be going into battle, possibly this very day, but he hadn’t thought the sword would allow it. Was Kasandral there, uhm, watching?

  Yes.

  And they—she wasn’t bothered by that? Ridge didn’t know quite how the sword worked, just that it made Ahn—and Therrik—eager to kill anyone with dragon blood. That should include Tolemek.

  She learned some commands to keep it from trying to coerce her into killing him. Why should she care if he watched? You don’t mind if I’m in the room watching.

  Sardelle said you look the other way. Ridge raised his eyebrows at her, wondering if she was hearing any of this conversation.

  Sardelle thinks I’m more of a lady than I am.

  The door opened before Ridge could decide if he needed to choke over that comment. A dripping Captain Kaika walked in, her cap pulled low over her eyes and the flaps of her jacket turned up.

  “It’s done,” she said wearily. “I can detonate everything from the tram tower.”

  “Thank you, Captain.” Ridge wished he could tell her to take a rest, since she had been up planning her strategy and then planting the explosives all night. “Get whatever you need ready for an air battle. Don’t load a flier yet—” he waved toward the window to indicate the rain that would be pouring into those seats right now, “—but have a pack ready to go if the dragon shows up and this doesn’t work. Plan B.” Or was it Plan C?

  “Are there any bombs left for her to pack?” Ort asked. “She raided Cildark’s stores thoroughly.”

  “Always got a few more, sir.” Kaika managed a tired wink.

  “As soon as you’re done, you can dry off and get some rest,” Ridge said.

  “Yes, sir.” She gave them more of a wave than a salute and closed the door.

  “Very well,” Phelistoth said, lifting his head, his first movement for several minutes. Ridge had almost forgotten what he was debating. “I will assist you, but I insist that the repository be retrieved as soon as Morishtomaric is eliminated. I also insist that all effort be made to get Tylie a soulblade.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “An appropriate soulblade.”

  A Cofah one, he means, Sardelle told Ridge with a mental sigh.

  Ridge shrugged. Tylie’s sword wasn’t his priority right now.

  “We agree,” Ridge said and stuck out his hand. Did dragons clasp wrists? This one had been sipping from a coffee cup and seemed almost human when he was in this form.

  Phelistoth did not see the offered hand. His head had swiveled toward the window.

  Lightning flashed in a sky that hadn’t brightened much with the approach of dawn.

  “He’s coming,” Phelistoth said.

  “What?” Ridge was afraid he knew exactly what, but he didn’t want it to be true. Not now. They weren’t ready. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours yet. Besides, what kind of intelligent being would be out flying in this?

  “Morishtomaric is coming,” Phelistoth repeated. “And he wants the repository.”

  Chapter 17

  An alarm wailed, and Cas awoke with a start. An arm tightened around her waist, Tolemek’s arm. They were curled up on a rug they had dragged into a corner of the artifact room, with nothing but her clothes pulled over them for a blanket—his had been too wet. At the time, this arrangement had seemed more logical than trying to find a room with a cot. Not that cots were made for the vigorous bedroom activities of two people. Of course, tables weren’t, either, and that hadn’t stopped them.

  She grinned, but the insistent wailing of the alarm drove aside any thoughts she might have had of continued snuggling. She swatted his arm and twisted her head to look at his closed eyes.

  “Wake up. There could be a dragon bearing down on us right now.”

  Tolemek’s eyes were still closed, his ropes of hair tickling her bare shoulder. “Mmzzt, jus’ wind.”

  The wind was still railing at the building, but she knew an alarm when she heard one. As she extracted herself from his grip and grabbed her clothes, she hoped nobody had been looking for her.

  Tolemek finally opened his eyes, his hand grasping too late for the jacket that had covered their torsos. “What is it?” he asked, his words more coherent this time.

  “I don’t know.” Cas stuffed her legs into her trousers, wishing she had time to find the lavatory and wash up, but she had better see if they were under attack first. She didn’t hear any guns firing outside, but the alarm could mean the dragon had been sighted and wasn’t yet in range. “You’re the fledgling sorcerer. You tell me.”

  “I don’t have a formula that can see through walls and ceilings.” Tolemek climbed to his feet, wincing when he stepped off the rug and onto the cold wood floor. He walked over to the window and peered outside. “There are men running on the parapet that I can see. And it’s hailing.”

  “What kind of dragon comes for a visit in the hail?” Cas growled, tugging her undershirt over her head. “It’s still early, isn’t it?” The thick storm clouds made it hard to guess. Thuds and shouts came from the hallway, soldiers racing outside.

  “I haven’t noticed that dragons are particularly considerate in the timing of their visits. Or with anything.” Tolemek plucked his wet trousers off his pile of clothes on the floor. “It’s occurring to me that I should have hung these to dry.”

  “Yes.” Cas had found both boots, though one had managed to end up behind a chair on the far side of the table. She jammed her feet into them.

  “You were distracting me.”

  “Sorry.”

  He grinned at her. “I’m not.”

  She would have loved to stay and banter with him—and tease him mercilessly for leaving his clothes on the floor to molder—but the alarm called to her, making her keenly aware of her duty. She ran across the room as she buttoned her uniform jacket, stopping only long enough to grab Kasandral’s box.

  “Maybe you can ask Sardelle to teach you how to dry clothes. Sounds like that would be useful. I’m going to find the general and see what’s going on.” Cas waved, figuring she could find him later and update him once she knew, but with a lurch, she realized she might be on her way into battle.

  She had the door open already, the shouts from the first floor floating up the stairs at the end of the hallway, but she dropped Kasandral’s box and ran back to him. He was still naked, standing with his soggy shirt in one hand and his trousers in the other. She stood on her tiptoes, gripped his shoulders, and kissed him soundly. He seemed surprised, but then pleased as he dropped his clothes and pulled her tight for a fierce hug. Maybe he realized what she might be running off to do too.

  “I love you,” he whispered when she pulled away.

  Hearing that he still felt that way warmed Cas’s soul, but with the alarm blaring, she couldn’t linger, no matter how much she wanted to.

  “I love you too.” She swatted his bare butt. “Now get dressed and get out there before Colonel Therrik comes in to ask what obscene thing you were doing naked in his storage room.”

  Tolemek grinned, his gaze shifting toward the table.

  Cas released him and sprinted out the door, grabbing the box on the way. She wished she had her Mark 500 slung over her shoulder, too, but if a dragon was the reason for the alarm, her sniper rifle wouldn’t do any good against it.

  Colonel Therrik’s office door was closed, so she ran straight for the stairs. She wouldn’t have wanted to get her updates from him, anyway, not after what he’d tried to do to Sardelle. If she’d had her rifle with her last night, she might have sniped him in the ass, rank notwithstanding.

  Cas followed the flow of soldiers out of their rooms and into the courtyard. The hail Tolemek had promised splatted into the mud and bounced off people’s shoulders. A stiff wind shoved her sideways, and she nearly stumbled off the walkway and into a slushy mud puddl
e.

  The soldiers all had duty stations and knew exactly where to go, most sprinting for stone staircases that led up to the fort walls and towers. Cas got out of the way and slowed down, searching for General Zirkander. Colonel Therrik’s shouts came from the center of the courtyard, orders to get to battle stations, but she did not see Zirkander anywhere. She jogged far enough from the headquarters building to look toward the roof. Duck’s and Zirkander’s fliers were still up there, but neither man was in sight. With the wind and hail, she couldn’t imagine flying. The airship was still anchored over one of the outpost walls, and even with its massive size, the wind knocked it around as if it were a child’s balloon.

  She turned a full circle, looking for Sardelle or anyone else from the squadron. Was General Ort down here? Or had he stayed up to command from the airship? Had the higher-ranking officers already had their meeting? The people flowing past all belonged to the fort, and she didn’t recognize any faces. She was on the verge of heading up to stand beside the fliers when she spotted a golden figure soaring under the dark gray clouds. The dragon.

  “Raptor,” Pimples called, coming out of the headquarters building, attempting to button his jacket while juggling his gear bag in his arms. Duck, already dressed and with his pack slung over his shoulder, came out behind him.

  “Did you—” Pimples followed Cas’s gaze toward the sky. “Uh. I thought he wasn’t supposed to be back until later.”

  If the wind, rain, hail, or lightning flashing over the mountains bothered Morishtomaric, it wasn’t apparent. He had to flap his wings more to maintain his altitude and position as he circled the outpost, but he did not appear alarmed. Cas hoped lightning would strike him. Aside from the mountaintops themselves, he was the highest point in the sky.

  “Do you know what’s going on, Pimples? Duck?” Cas asked. “Where’s Zirkander?”

  “He just said to be ready to take to the air at any moment.” Duck glanced toward the fliers on the rooftop, then at the clouds shooting hail down at them. “I can’t imagine doing so in this.”

  Cas would have preferred to wait somewhere more protected than the rooftop, but she took a step in that direction, figuring Zirkander would expect them to be there when he came looking.

  “You cloud humpers, get over here,” came a bellow from across the courtyard. Therrik.

  “Is that us?” Pimples asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Duck said. “That’s one of the more flattering terms for pilots that I’ve heard come out of his mouth. He’s more crotchety than a bear that got his fish stolen.”

  Cas did not want to go talk to Therrik, but a couple of local soldiers scattered from around him, and she could see him waving, clearly talking to her, Pimples, and Duck.

  She jogged over, keeping her expression flat, though she couldn’t help but wonder if he would blame her for keeping him from throttling Sardelle—or whatever he’d had in mind. Even with rain and hail pounding him, he was an imposing figure as he shouted orders, a rifle in one hand and a truncheon and short sword hanging from his weapons belt. What if he ordered her to hand over Kasandral? General Zirkander wasn’t around to stop him.

  Therrik’s eyes tracked Cas as they approached, but he didn’t mention the night before, other than to point at her box. “You might as well take that thing out, Lieutenant. Looks like you’ll need it soon, and the wood doesn’t seem to do nearly as much to dull its attributes as your witch friend suggested.” He scowled.

  Cas tried to decide if that meant he believed it had coerced him to attack. She was sure Kasandral had helped that along, but she also wondered if he might have used the sword as an excuse.

  “Join Captain Kaika in the tram tower,” Therrik said, this time talking to all three of them. “She’ll keep an eye on you until your dauntless leader wakes up from his nap.”

  Nap?

  “General Zirkander, sir?” Cas asked.

  “Yes. Go.” Therrik shooed them away, then cursed as the dragon soared down from the sky, his talons outstretched. Men on top of one of the artillery towers scattered—one flinging himself over the outer wall. “Where is that silver-butted freak?”

  Er, was that Phelistoth? Fortunately, the question was not directed to her. Without another word for them, Therrik grabbed his sword and raced toward the tower.

  The dragon did not attack anyone. He merely alighted on the big shell gun, making it appear like a toy as his massive talons curled around the barrel.

  Kasandral’s wooden box hummed, almost vibrating in Cas’s grip. The sword’s agitation beat at her mind, containing a mix of eagerness, fury, and a desire to kill.

  “Meyusha,” she whispered, “Meyusha.” It was the word Sardelle had translated that meant stand down. Relax. At least for now. She’d spoken it in her mind last night to get the sword to stop harassing her about Tolemek.

  It didn’t work as well this time. Maybe asking Kasandral to calm down when there was a dragon thirty meters away was too much.

  “Hiding in the tram tower, or better yet, down in the mines, doesn’t sound half bad,” Pimples said, his gaze locked on the dragon.

  “I’m not hiding anywhere,” Duck said. “I want another chance at that oversized canary. Tolemek was supposed to be making some bullets that could hit him. Cas, you know if that happened yet?”

  “Uh.” Probably not, since Tolemek had been busy with her this morning, unless he’d gotten them done before coming down. “Let’s see if Kaika has something for us.”

  She took a step in that direction, but Tolemek jogged out of the headquarters building, and she paused to see if he would come over. The courtyard had cleared somewhat, with most of the soldiers at their posts now, and he spotted her. He waved, but he headed for the airship instead of in her direction. He glanced around the outpost and nearly tripped when he spotted the dragon on the tower. He ran several steps with his head craned all the way around before picking up his pace and racing to the ladder.

  “Maybe he’s going to get those bullets now,” she said.

  But Pimples and Duck had left her, already heading for the tram tower. She ran to catch up.

  Captain Kaika stood alone in there, looking bored as she leaned against a big piece of machinery and gazed through the open sides of the tower toward the dragon’s perch. A wooden box rested at her feet, a plunger in the upright position. Cas recognized the detonator for what it was and halted well away from it. Between the machinery, giant cable spool, and a tram car half hiding Kaika from view, it was crowded in the small tower even without four people inside. At least it provided some shelter from the hail and wind.

  Kaika’s eyebrows arched. “Can I help you?”

  “Therrik said you were in charge of us,” Cas said, “that General Zirkander is busy doing something.” Napping, supposedly, but that sounded extremely unlikely.

  “Lucky me.”

  “Are we supposed to help you with—uhm.” Duck bit his lip and looked down at the detonator.

  “Nope. Therrik probably wanted you out of the way.”

  “Do you know what’s going on?” Cas asked.

  “Yup, but I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Kaika said. “Or think about it. Everyone’s hoping the dragon won’t notice me, since someone had to stay awake who knew what was going on.”

  “Uh, what?”

  Kaika held a finger to her lips and nodded toward the artillery tower.

  Therrik was below it, waving his rifle and pointing up at the dragon. Morishtomaric wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was studying the silver-scaled dragon standing on all fours in the courtyard behind Therrik. Phelistoth was not glaring defiantly up at Morishtomaric, as Cas would have expected. His neck was bent low, his head near the ground, his eyes turned toward the mud.

  “Why does he look like a dog about to roll over and give up his belly?” Duck asked.

  Cas shook her head. She had no idea what was going on. Were the dragons communicating?

  The soldiers stationed on the walls all had their
rifles trained on the dragons—both of them. From the way those men shifted about, glancing at each other and muttering imprecations, they had to be nervous. A bullet wouldn’t likely hurt Phelistoth, but he had proven himself an ally, at least nominally. What would he think if Iskandians started shooting him?

  Morishtomaric leaped into the air.

  “Get back,” Kaika whispered. “Hide behind the car.” She crouched behind the machinery, so she wouldn’t be visible to the dragon.

  Cas did as instructed, though she hated not being able to see what Morishtomaric was doing. She crouched down, the sword box in her lap, and she curled her fingers around the lid, resting them on the latches. Therrik had said to take it out, but wouldn’t the dragon be more likely to sense Kasandral then? Back in the castle, the others had spoken of keeping the blade in the case until she was ready to strike. She would need surprise on her side to have a chance of cutting down a dragon in a sword fight. Surprise and a lot of luck.

  “Look out,” someone shouted in the courtyard.

  “It’s going in the mines?” came a questioning shout from the wall.

  Cas wanted to get up and look. The box buzzed in her hand, and even though Kasandral did not speak, she could imagine his words if he could: Take me out. I’m ready. Must fight!

  Kaika made a patting “stay down” motion with her hand. She appeared calm, almost bored. She must have known that wherever the dragon was going, it wasn’t aiming for them. The detonator rested on the ground an inch from her knee.

  Cas caught a flash of gold between the tower’s support post and the dangling tram car, then the dragon disappeared. Only as Kaika stood up and gazed toward the tram shaft did Cas realize he must have gone down there. She was surprised the massive creature had fit through the open double doors. They were large, with room for tram cars and ore carts, but that dragon was so big. Then she thought of Phelistoth and the way he could shift to human form and presumably other shapes. Maybe Morishtomaric had made himself thin enough to fit.

  “He go all the way to the bottom?” came Therrik’s voice from outside the tower. Thuds and splashes sounded, as he ran closer.