6.0 - Raptor

by Lindsay Buroker

  Cas eased out from behind the tram car, so she could see the open shaft. Pimples and Duck crowded behind her, as if they had been waiting for her to move so they could too. Therrik charged up to the shaft’s edge and peered down, both his rifle and his sword now in hand.

  “Yes,” Phelistoth said. He had changed back to human form and walked up behind Therrik. He glanced into the shaft, sniffed derisively, and strode toward Cas.

  He was looking past her, so she skittered out of the way, stepping on Duck’s foot in her haste. Starting to get the gist of what was going on, she did not want to delay anything.

  “Ouch, Raptor,” Duck said. “Your heels are as sharp as your sights.”

  “You shouldn’t stand so close to her,” Pimples said. “She only cozies up with Deathmaker.”

  With her eyes locked onto Captain Kaika’s face, Cas did not respond to them.

  “Is it time?” Kaika asked Phelistoth.

  “Soon.” Phelistoth closed his eyes. “He is navigating the passages on the lower level.” His mouth twisted. “Passages that I cleared.”

  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate your good work.”

  “Doubtful. He is arrogant.”

  Cas kept herself from snorting, though she wondered if dragons thought all other dragons were arrogant, except for themselves.

  That is an essential truth, Jaxi spoke into her mind.

  Cas twitched. She didn’t know if she would ever get used to having another entity randomly speaking into her mind.

  Sardelle and Ridge are sleeping, so I have few people to talk to. Besides, I thought I should warn you that if this doesn’t work, you’ll need to be ready to use that sword soon. Might want to unbox him.

  I don’t understand why they’re sleeping. Cas frowned down at the box. Therrik had said the same thing. Maybe everybody else was right.

  So Morishtomaric couldn’t read their thoughts and see this plan. I expect everyone will run when the explosives go off, even though Kaika was supposed to plant them so that the outpost itself wouldn’t be in danger. If I were you, I would stay right there, next to the tram shaft. Try to get first blood if he comes out that way.

  Cas pushed open the tram car door and laid the box inside. Sardelle, Tylie, and Tolemek aren’t around, right? She knew Tolemek had gone up to the airship, but if Tylie and Sardelle were in the courtyard or nearby when she drew Kasandral…

  They’re in the headquarters building. Just remember those commands so you can make Kasandral work for you instead of the other way around. And remember which phrase you don’t want to say.

  Cas shuddered as she unlatched the box. She had recognized the phrase as soon as Sardelle had translated it, the one the queen had used, the one that translated to “take over.”

  As Cas took the hilt into her hands, the sword thrummed contentedly. Up in the flier, there hadn’t been time to remember what that blade had done in her grip back in the castle, but as soon as she lifted it, her forearms flexing with the unaccustomed weight, she started sweating. Sardelle and Tylie weren’t nearly as far away as she had hoped they would be when she drew Kasandral from the box. She wished they were up on the airship, far out of reach.

  “Now,” Phelistoth said, the single word stirring Cas from her dark thoughts.

  “Now it is.” Kaika depressed the plunger on the detonator.

  Cas stepped around the corner of the tram car, so that she was only a few feet from the shaft entrance. The hail had grown heavier, the icy balls bouncing to the ground larger. A white film coated the muddy courtyard.

  “Get back, girl,” Therrik growled and reached for her shoulder.

  The signal Kaika had sent arrived at its destination before he could touch her. The distant boom was muffled, but the ground shook enough to make Cas sink into a crouch for stability. A second boom followed before the first had died out, and then a third. She soon lost track of how many explosions sounded from the depths of the mountain. Dust and the scent of something burning arose from the shaft, and she fought the urge to step back.

  Wood snapped down below—supports that had survived the previous day’s cave-in finally snapping. A roar drifted up through the shaft, along with more dust. Rain was already dripping into Cas’s eyes, and now the dust assailed them too. She kept them open to a squint, certain that if the dragon came out this way, she wouldn’t have more than a split second to attack before he shot into the sky.

  We’re hoping he’s crushed to death down there, Jaxi informed her.

  The last of the booms faded, rocks settling far below. Cas risked creeping closer to the shaft and stared into the depths. The weak daylight did not filter down far, and she could only see the ore tracks, the iron gleaming with dampness, for the first ten or twenty feet. Beyond that, it was too dark to tell what exactly had collapsed.

  The half-frozen ground crunched beside her, making her realize how quiet it had grown. Therrik stepped up beside her, eyed the sword, then also stared into the shaft. Did he want to take Kasandral from her, to use it himself? A part of her wouldn’t have minded giving him the responsibility, but handing it to someone so dangerous and so full of hate and fear was too cowardly to contemplate.

  Phelistoth also came close to the shaft on Cas’s other side, and Kasandral thrummed angrily in her hand. She whispered the relax command to it several times, but her skin crawled with the urge to swing the blade at him. She stepped around to the other side of the shaft, putting some space between them.

  Oblivious—or indifferent—Phelistoth squinted thoughtfully into the dark passage.

  “Well?” Therrik asked. “Is it alive?”

  It wasn’t clear whether he was speaking to Phelistoth or simply asking the world in general. He didn’t look at the silver-haired man. From the way he clenched his sword, his knuckles tight on the grip, he wasn’t nearly as calm as he sounded.

  “He lives,” Phelistoth said. “He may be trapped.”

  “Trapped is good,” Cas said.

  Kasandral’s constant thrumming somehow conveyed displeasure at her statement. Maybe Jaxi and Sardelle were wrong, and the blade was intelligent.

  Phelistoth and Therrik glowered down at her.

  “Dead is good,” Therrik said.

  “I concur,” Phelistoth said.

  A buzz made Cas’s palm tingle. Was that a warning?

  Phelistoth’s shoulders slumped. “He’s coming.”

  Therrik said something, but the ground shuddered, and rocks cracked far below, the noise loud enough to reach up through the layers of earth to them. Phelistoth backed up, moving out of Cas’s peripheral vision. Therrik scooted back too.

  Cas remained, the sword in her hands, her knees bent to jump if she needed to. Rain dripped down the sides of her face, or maybe that was sweat. She wished the blade felt more comfortable in her hands, but she was aware of her inexperience, of the fact that the handful of katas the sword had guided her through the first time she’d carried it did not make up for the fact that she had never learned swordsmanship.

  “Pimples,” came a distant call. Was that Tolemek? She glanced toward the airship and caught him leaning over the railing with a megaphone. He hefted a small wood crate with a rope tied around it. Pimples and Duck sprinted away from the tower, crossing the courtyard toward him. Kaika, a pack slung over her shoulder, trotted after them.

  Cas tried not to feel all alone as her comrades departed. They were getting ready to fly, and she would join them if this didn’t work, but Jaxi was right. This might be her only chance to ambush the dragon.

  The rain and hail picked up, beating onto the top of her cap, pounding her bare hands and bouncing off the blade. The earth shuddered one more time, a heave that made her feel like she was riding atop a wave.

  Three seconds, Jaxi warned.

  Cas tore her gaze from her comrades and focused on the shaft again.

  Two.

  She licked her lips and prepared to jump.

  One.

  The dragon streaked out so quickly a
ll she saw was a blur of gold. Cas leaped, thrusting forward and up with the blade. She glimpsed something glowing purple clutched in the creature’s talons. As ready as she’d been, she almost missed hitting the dragon at all—that was how fast he was. But Kasandral, guided by its power as much as her swing, bit into a golden-scaled leg, just above the talons.

  A roar of pleasure sounded in her mind, Kasandral’s satisfied cry.

  The dragon screeched, dropping the purple object to the ground. It pulsed, shedding lavender rays onto the hail and mud. Cas had no idea whether it was a weapon or not, but she dared not look at it. Morishtomaric wheeled in the air, spinning toward her.

  Cas jumped, trying to reach him for another swipe, but he was more than ten feet above the ground now. Even with the sword’s reach, it wasn’t enough. The blade swiped through the air a foot below those flexing talons. A flash of chagrin filled her as she realized Therrik would have been tall enough to land that blow.

  Move! Jaxi cried, and an image of flames filled Cas’s mind.

  Morishtomaric opened his mouth. Cas sprinted for the tram tower, nearly crashing into the car hanging there. The metal supports of the tower wouldn’t keep the flames from roasting her. She leaped into the car, sending Kasandral’s box skittering.

  Orange light and heat engulfed the tower. Cas rolled to the side of the car entrance, the sword clattering on the metal flooring. Sweltering air blasted her skin. The glass windows cracked, then blistered and started to melt. Cas tried to close the door, but already, it was too hot to touch. She yanked her burned fingers away. All she could do was roll to the side wall, hoping the metal car wouldn’t melt around her.

  The cable snapped, and the car fell to the ground with a jolt. The air scorched Cas’s lungs, and she covered her mouth with her sleeve. She couldn’t take much more of this.

  Jaxi, she yelled in her mind. Kasandral. Couldn’t any of these swords help her?

  The flames stopped. With the air and the metal flooring under her still so hot, she might not have noticed right away, had the light level not dimmed a thousand times.

  Cas wanted to stay in a tiny ball until the dragon went away forever, but she made herself rise to her knees. She’d dropped Kasandral, and she reached for it as she tried to see through the half-melted windows. Metal had melted, too, and splatted to the floor all around her like candle wax.

  Another screech came from outside, similar to the earlier one. Who was attacking Morishtomaric now? Hope rose in her chest that some weapon had gotten through.

  Kasandral’s hilt burned her hand, and she hissed in pain. Though she wanted to leave it, she dragged her jacket sleeve over her palm, grabbed the weapon, and scrambled out of the car.

  The purple thing, some sort of crystalline structure about a foot and a half tall, pulsed in the hail-covered mud in front of the tram shaft. The dragon was gone. Cas ran over and kicked the crystal back into the shaft. At the least, she could make it harder for Morishtomaric to retrieve it when he came back from wherever he had gone.

  Another screech sounded from the sky above her, and she realized he wasn’t gone. He was under attack.

  Phelistoth had changed into his natural form again, and he and Morishtomaric were writhing in the air, biting and clawing at each other. Dread filled her stomach as she saw how much smaller their dragon was than the golden one. Gunshots rang from the walls of the outpost, but Cas knew they would not do any good. She didn’t even know if the soldiers were targeting the right dragon.

  He won’t last long, Jaxi said. Hurry to the fliers. I’m trying to wake the others. Plan B.

  Chapter 18

  Wake up, Jaxi ordered. Judging by the exasperated tone of the words, it wasn’t her first time saying them.

  Sardelle sat up. She was on the floor in the office where she and the others had discussed strategy that morning, the office where they had inhaled Tolemek’s concoctions in order to knock themselves out. Ridge still lay unconscious beside her. General Ort was slumped in a chair at the table.

  Wake up your soul snozzle too. He needs to get in his flier. It didn’t work, and there’s not much time.

  Saving the questions for later, Sardelle rested her hand on Ridge’s shoulder. She pushed aside the fog in her mind and the headache Tolemek’s potion had left her with to clear the drug out of Ridge’s system. Though she was focusing on the work, she couldn’t help but hear the thunder of cannons and the hail of rifle fire outside.

  Some of that hail is actual hail, and some of that thunder is real too. It’s a mess out there.

  Ridge’s eyes popped open. He winced, probably having a headache too. When his gaze locked onto hers, it was cogent, the question in his eyes clear.

  “Plan B,” she said.

  Cursing, he rolled to his feet. He staggered, caught himself on the table, and raced out the door. Sardelle looked toward General Ort, wondering if she should stay behind to wake him, but he wasn’t part of the flight contingent for Plan B. He should wake soon enough on his own. Judging by the commotion outside, Sardelle might be needed right away.

  She ran through the empty hallway to the stairs, taking the steps four at a time. Even with her haste, she was well behind Ridge. He’d already climbed to the rooftop by the time she stepped outside. A hail pellet the size of a coin smacked her shoulder, and she faltered. Seven gods, he couldn’t fly in this. The cockpits were open, and the wings were made from cloth. They had a waterproof sealant, but could that protect the material from hail like this?

  No choice, Jaxi said, and Sardelle looked up.

  Phelistoth and Morishtomaric fought in the air above the fort. Sardelle’s first worry was that Tylie was around and in danger, but when she checked, she sensed the young woman in her room with her nose pressed to the window. Surprised Phelistoth had intervened and was helping them, Sardelle ran up the stairs to the rooftop.

  Don’t be so surprised. Morishtomaric came up with the crystal our dragon wants for himself.

  Ah.

  Down in the courtyard, Pimples was already in his cockpit. On the rooftop, Duck was helping Kaika load a pack full of explosives into the back seat of his flier. Ridge was hefting a crate into his own craft. He jumped up and pulled himself in after it. Therrik stood on the rooftop, too, though he was yelling at someone in the closest artillery tower rather than having anything to do with the aircraft.

  Sardelle spotted Cas standing next to Ridge’s flier and froze. She carried Kasandral, the sword out of his box and glowing that familiar sickly green.

  His complexion hasn’t improved, has it? Jaxi asked.

  Cas met her eyes, concern blossoming on her face. But she firmed her chin and nodded once, as if to say she had full control of the sword. Sardelle hoped so. Either way, Cas would be in the sky with Ridge soon and not close enough to reach her. It would be fine.

  A pained screech came from the sky above and stirred Sardelle into motion. Fat blood drops spattered the frosty roof as the dragons fought overhead. How they clawed and bit and lashed out with their tails without falling from the air, she couldn’t tell.

  “Pimples has room in his flier, Sardelle,” Ridge called to her without looking up. He was loading bands of bullets into his machine guns. “Are you coming up with us?”

  Was she? She looked at the fighting dragons, then toward the soldiers on the walls, and toward miners watching from the barracks buildings that hadn’t been destroyed, men and women who were staying out of the way but who couldn’t tear their gazes from the battle. She thought of the miner with the dragon blood, a man who may or may not have deserved to be here and who had died for nothing. As much as she wanted to stay close to Ridge, there were hundreds of lives at stake down here. Besides, if the battle stayed as close as it was now—she glanced at the blood drops on the roof—she could help him and protect the fort.

  “I’ll stay here and do my best to shield these people,” Sardelle said, “but I’ll keep an eye on you too.”

  Therrik had stopped bellowing at his men, and he
must have heard her statement, because he looked over at her. She couldn’t tell if he intended to say something sarcastic, but it didn’t matter. Ridge was hopping down from his flier and running toward her.

  He hugged her fiercely. “I know you will. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

  She returned the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. “You deserve everything you have and more.”

  “I love delusional women.” He kissed her, then raced back to his flier as another ear-splitting screech sounded from above. Before pulling himself into the cockpit, he glared over at Therrik. “You try to stab Sardelle in the back while I’m up there, and I’ll hunt you down in my flier and fill you full of bullets.”

  Therrik snorted. “Save your bluster for the dragon, Zirkander.”

  Ridge swung up into the cockpit. “Ahn, you coming?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cas reached up to toss Kasandral into the seat behind him, but she froze as words sounded in Sardelle’s mind.

  Antyonla masahrati!

  It was Morishtomaric’s voice.

  Sardelle yanked Jaxi from her scabbard. She might not have remembered those words if she hadn’t been translating them the night before, but they were the same ones the queen had shouted right before Kasandral possessed Cas in the castle.

  Cas responded right away, her eyes growing round for a second, then narrowing with determination. She lowered Kasandral and assumed a fighting stance. At first, her gaze locked onto the fighting dragons, and Sardelle thought the sword might focus on them as the greater threats—the greater sources of dragon blood.

  Then Cas spun toward her.

  Not again, Jaxi groaned into her mind. She flared with bluish silver energy, and power flowed into Sardelle’s limbs, but she knew Jaxi didn’t want this fight, not now. Sardelle didn’t want it, either. Not with the dragons trying to kill each other right over their heads. Phelistoth was buying them time, time they needed to use wisely.

  Cas advanced toward her, that horrified expression on her face again.

  “Meriyash keeno,” Sardelle yelled, making sure Kasandral heard her over the gunfire and dragon screeches. They were the words that should order the sword to stand down. If Cas couldn’t manage to utter them in her present state of mind, Sardelle would do it for her.