6.0 - Raptor

by Lindsay Buroker

  Cas hesitated. Ridge jumped down from the flier and grabbed her from behind.

  “Stand down, Ahn,” he ordered. “Wrong target.”

  Antyonla masahrati! Morishtomaric repeated, power lacing the command.

  Cas jabbed backward with her elbow with more force than she could have mustered on her own. Ridge stumbled away from her, clutching his solar plexus. Sardelle lifted a hand and created an invisible barrier in the air between her and Cas. Off to the side, Therrik advanced toward them, but she had no idea if he meant to help stop Cas… or to help Cas kill her. Kaika and Duck jumped down from the other flier, but they were on the other side of the roof.

  Cas’s lips moved. She seemed to be uttering the stand-down words, but Kasandral only flared more brightly. The blade swiped sideways, cutting into Sardelle’s barrier. It disappeared, like a popped soap bubble. Sardelle struggled to remake it, but Cas was already lunging for her.

  Damn it, how had the dragon known the blade’s command words?

  Ridge drew his pistol and aimed at the back of Cas’s leg, but he hesitated to shoot. Sardelle couldn’t blame him. Not only was she a friend, but they needed her to fight the dragon. She needed to figure out how to break Morishtomaric’s influence on Kasandral before drastic measures were required.

  Meriyash keeno, Sardelle repeated, this time using telepathy and focusing the words right at the blade.

  Cas was close enough to strike. Her movements were jerky, her face flushing red with the effort of trying to stop Kasandral.

  Silver scales flashed, and the roof trembled. Phelistoth landed on his back, flung down by Morishtomaric, who flapped his wings in the sky twenty feet above them. Blood streamed from those silver scales, and Phelistoth lay stunned for a moment, his legs in the air like those of an upturned turtle. Hail bounced off his exposed belly.

  Sardelle raised Jaxi, intending to help shield him if she could. Surely Morishtomaric would attack, pressing the advantage and not worrying about the humans on the roof. Instead, he swept toward the courtyard, toward the shaft where he had dropped his crystal.

  Cas roared, the sword flaring such a bright green that it hurt to look at it. Instead of lunging at Sardelle again, she ran toward Phelistoth, Kasandral leading the way.

  “No,” Sardelle yelled, then shouted the command words again. “Not him.”

  Ridge charged in from the side and dove. Cas swung at Phelistoth’s defenseless side. Ridge slammed into her legs before the blade bit in. They tumbled to the ground, and the sword flew from Cas’s grip. It skidded across the roof, bits of hail flying in its wake, and landed at Therrik’s feet. The green glow flashed, beckoning him to pick it up.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sardelle yelled and tried to use her power to fling it away from him.

  When Kasandral had been in his box, that had worked, but now the gust of wind she created blew right across the blade without doing anything. Therrik bent down and picked up the sword.

  Ridge jumped to his feet, his pistol out again. He aimed it at Therrik’s chest.

  “Drop it.”

  A boom sounded from above. The airship was firing at Morishtomaric. Phelistoth rolled over, the corner of the roof crumbling underneath him. He caught himself on the edge and pulled himself back up, his legs underneath him now. For a moment, he looked at Ridge and Therrik, who were so busy staring at each other, the glow of Kasandral between them, that they did not notice the dragon’s movement.

  Sardelle had no idea if a bullet would stop Therrik when Kasandral was in his hand. Jaxi could block gunfire. She brushed Therrik’s mind and tried to convince him to drop the sword, but it was like grasping at dandelion seeds in the wind. She couldn’t get a grip.

  Cas climbed to her feet and pulled out her own pistol. She gave Sardelle a look of anguish, but she didn’t say anything. She added her weapon to the one already trained on Therrik.

  Therrik turned away from both of them and strode toward Phelistoth. The dragon had recovered enough to spring into the air. Before Therrik got close, he was twenty feet above them. He flapped his wings a few times, looking around, then arrowed toward the courtyard. Morishtomaric had disappeared into the shaft again. Looking for the crystal?

  With the dragon no longer close, Therrik did not hesitate. He spun toward Sardelle, his lips rearing back into a snarl. He sprinted at her.

  Sardelle yelled the stand-down command words at the same time as Cas did. Kasandral’s glow dimmed just as Ridge fired.

  The bullet lodged into the side of Therrik’s thigh. He faltered for a second, but then he continued on, his face a rictus of rage and pain. Sardelle braced herself, Jaxi glowing in front of her, the confrontation inevitable. Even if Kasandral was lessening his grip on his handler, Therrik wanted this too much.

  Or so she thought. She leaped to the side, Jaxi ready to defend, but when he drew even with her, he didn’t swing. He ran down the stairs, his gait lopsided but determined. Sardelle raced to the edge of the roof.

  Therrik gained speed and reached the shaft as Morishtomaric flew out with the purple crystal structure clasped in his talons. Phelistoth dove down from the sky and bowled into him. The dragons struck the ground, mud and frost spattering everywhere. They rolled head over tail, like fighting cats. Therrik leaped into the fray, chopping down with Kasandral as if it were an axe.

  “Damn it,” Ridge growled from Sardelle’s side. “Does he even care which one he hits?”

  She shrugged helplessly. Those dragons were twisting and writhing so quickly, it was all a blur.

  He just nicked Morishtomaric, Jaxi said, but I think Ridge is right. He’s aiming at both of them.

  The crystal flew free, landing in a puddle.

  “I’m going to try to get that,” Sardelle said. She wasn’t doing anything else and had a notion that it might be used as a bargaining chip.

  More likely, it’ll make you a target.

  I’m getting used to that.

  Ridge started after her, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Plan B, right?” She nodded toward the fliers. “If you have bullets in there that could hurt him…”

  A mix of emotions flashed across Ridge’s face, but he nodded curtly and ran to the flier.

  “You coming, Ahn?” he barked.

  Cas stood in the middle of the rooftop, her shoulders slumped, her face full of self-loathing. “I don’t have a weapon that will do anything, sir.”

  “Yeah, you do. Your Mark 500 is in your seat.”

  “But—”

  “And Tolemek sent down a bag of bullets with your name on it.”

  Sardelle was running down the stairs and did not hear Cas’s response. She raced across the courtyard, wincing as hail struck her head. Shield me, will you, Jaxi? She could deal with the hail, but she remembered the last time she’d been in a battle in this courtyard, with the soldiers just as happy to shoot at her as at the enemy shaman.

  Humans are so fragile. The pummeling stopped.

  I know. She could have done it herself, but she feared she would need her power to protect herself from Therrik or the dragons—or both.

  For the moment, the dragons weren’t paying attention to him. He kept having to jump over a tail or leap back from the fray before diving back in, but even Kasandral could not drive them apart. Morishtomaric and Phelistoth were so engrossed in their own battle for that crystal that the rest of the fort might as well not have been there. At least the soldiers had stopped firing, probably because their fort commander was in the middle of the fray. She wondered if he was doing more harm than good by being down here.

  So long as he’s not attacking us.

  Sardelle agreed. She spotted the crystal in the mud behind them. I’m starting to think that thing is more than a library.

  One does wonder.

  She took a circuitous route around the writhing combatants, giving them a wide berth. Even so, a tail shot out, going rigid, and she had to jump to avoid being struck. When she reached it, she touched the crystal befor
e picking it up, worried it might have a defense against humans. Surprisingly, it hummed with a gentle warmth that she found inviting.

  One of the dragons roared, and Morishtomaric’s golden body stiffened.

  Therrik got a good hit, Jaxi said. He—

  The next cry was human. Therrik.

  Sardelle lifted the crystal and backed away in time to glimpse him flying high through the air. He landed thirty feet away from the dragons with bone-crunching finality.

  Morishtomaric did not like it, Jaxi said.

  The gold dragon had put some space between himself and Phelistoth, who seemed to be catching his breath. Either that, or he was too injured to continue. Morishtomaric had his share of bloody gashes, but they were nothing compared to Phelistoth’s injuries. Blood poured from the side of his neck, and broken silver scales littered the ground around the battle scene.

  Might want to get out of here with your new paperweight, Jaxi suggested.

  Sardelle was trying to creep around the dragons, so that she could check on Therrik. Anything that had made him cry out had to have been a grievous injury, and landing after that flight across the courtyard couldn’t have felt good, either. And then there was the fact that Ridge had shot him…

  Before Sardelle could get close, Morishtomaric flexed his wings and faced her.

  Told you, Jaxi said.

  Sardelle halted, the crystal clutched to her chest. A part of her wanted to fling the artifact at him, in the hope that he would take it and go away forever, but the fact that he wanted it so badly made her nervous. Whatever secrets lay within, could they be anything good for humanity? Besides, Morishtomaric had already proven that he was a menace if left to fly around on his own. He’d killed countless people and burned entire villages. He had to be stopped here.

  Yes, and how are we going to do that?

  I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.

  The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped toward her. His maw stretched open, and Sardelle threw her strength into the shield Jaxi was already maintaining. She turned to run, knowing the dragon’s fire would only drain their reserves, but the hammering of a machine gun broke across the courtyard. A couple of bullets struck Morishtomaric’s hide, and he turned his attention from her.

  Ridge’s flier was in the air. He arrowed toward the dragon, his twin guns firing. In the seat behind him, Cas leaned over the side, her sniper rifle in hand. Unfortunately, the next round of bullets was deflected before touching the dragon. Sardelle hoped the ones that had reached his scales would do some damage, but she couldn’t tell.

  “Zirkander,” Therrik yelled as the flier swooped low, his voice weaker than usual. He was on one knee in the mud, one hand pressed to his chest while the other gripped Kasandral, its tip also resting in the mud. Its glow had left, as if the sword knew his handler had no fight left in him. Blood dripped from the corner of Therrik’s mouth, and he was gasping for air.

  Sardelle did not know if Ridge heard him over the buzz of his propeller and the sound of his own guns, but Therrik drew back his arm. As the flier reached its lowest point before it had to steer upward again, he hurled Kasandral into the air with all of his strength.

  “Sir,” Cas blurted and stuffed her rifle between her legs.

  Ridge tilted the wings. Sardelle didn’t think the sword would make it to them, and she tried to give it a nudge, to take it higher so they could reach it. To her surprise, this time Kasandral allowed her touch. The sword sailed upward, and Cas leaned out to grasp it.

  The flier curved up into the sky, the wheels just missing the top of the outpost wall nearest the mountain. With Ridge flying away, at least until he could gain altitude to swoop down for another attack, Sardelle thought Morishtomaric might target her again. She still clutched the crystal to her chest. Instead, the dragon leaped into the air and flew after Ridge. Maybe a couple of Tolemek’s special bullets had slipped through and were doing damage, so Morishtomaric had to deal with the threat.

  Relieved for herself but terrified for Ridge, Sardelle ran to Therrik’s side. Throwing the sword must have taken the last of his strength. He had collapsed onto his back, and hail battered his exposed face. He was conscious, but his eyes were starting to glaze, his gasps for air weakening.

  “Phel!” came a nearby cry. Tylie raced across the courtyard, running past Sardelle.

  Phelistoth lay on his belly in the mud, his legs folded beneath him, his head on the ground and his eyes closed. He wasn’t dead, but he didn’t look like he had any more fight in him.

  Watch her, please, Jaxi. Sardelle dropped to her knees beside Therrik and rested a hand on his chest. Morishtomaric had struck his chest with enough force to break ribs and force the splintered bones into his organs. Among other injuries, one of his lungs had collapsed and the other was damaged. He would die soon if she didn’t help him.

  I was going to watch you, Jaxi said, because I know you’ll heal someone even if he’s a huge pest who nobody would miss.

  You know me well. See if you can convince Tylie to take shelter, please. Sardelle eyed the ramparts warily. Most of the soldiers were looking upward, toward the gold dragon and the two fliers tangling in the skies. Duck and Kaika had joined Ridge and Cas up there, and Pimples was taking off to join them. The airship had pulled in its anchor and flew overhead. Sardelle hoped their forces would be enough to take down their enemy.

  I don’t think Tylie is any more likely to take shelter than you are. She’s hugging up to Phelistoth and crying on him.

  Sardelle did not respond. Therrik needed a lot of help, and she didn’t know how much time she would have, especially when she was the one holding the artifact Morishtomaric had come to get.

  Chapter 19

  “Shoot the dragon,” Tolemek growled, “not the fliers.”

  He knelt behind the railing on the airship, half watching the battle and half trying to adjust the fuses on his smoke grenades. He had no idea if they would bother Morishtomaric, but he had mixed a tiny bit of the acid into the formula inside. If Cas and Kasandral managed to take away the dragon’s ability to defend himself with magic, maybe some smoke would get through and burn his eyes. Tolemek lamented that he couldn’t think of more that he could do—he wasn’t even sure he should do this, since their own people were out there.

  After battling Phelistoth in the courtyard, Morishtomaric had taken off after Zirkander and Cas, and Tolemek had a hard time tearing his gaze from that. Duck and Kaika were out there, too, but they were not the dragon’s primary target.

  Tolemek held his breath every time the creature drew close to Cas, certain he would bathe the flier in a stream of fire. Morishtomaric was faster, stronger, and more agile than the manmade aircraft, but Zirkander had an uncanny knack for anticipating attacks. So far, they hadn’t been hit, at least not by the dragon. Hail rained from the sky, giving Tolemek another reason to worry. Fierce wind batted at the fliers, especially now that the battle had risen higher, away from the protection of the valley walls.

  A cannon boomed a few feet away. Tolemek glowered at the artilleryman, not certain anyone should be shooting with the fliers so close to the dragon. It wasn’t as if the cannonballs and bullets could harm the dragon—Tolemek had given all of his modified ammunition to the pilots. They could, however, hit the fliers.

  Major Cildark paced the deck, watching the battle and giving orders to the artillerymen. He seemed to think that the airship needed to look useful, whether it was or not. Hail slanted in under the balloon and bounced off the deck. Now and then, rips sounded above, just audible over the gales tearing down from the mountaintops. So far, the holes were too small to affect the ship’s ability to stay aloft. So far.

  “Here.” Tolemek waved aside a private about to load a new cannonball. He wiggled his grenade, having to shout to be heard above the wind. “We’re shooting this instead.”

  “Uh.” The soldier glanced toward Cildark, who must have been watching, because he waved a go-ahead. “Yes, sir.”

 
; “Let me know when it’s ready to fire.” Tolemek nodded at the soldier holding the rammer. “Be gentle packing it in, and don’t take long. The fuse will be lit. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And aim this at the dragon,” Tolemek told the man responsible for targeting. “Understood?”

  “We’re trying to hit the dragon, sir. It moves a lot, and when we do hit it, the balls bounce off.”

  “I know. I’m hoping Cas will be able to do something about that.” Hail the size of a bullet slammed into Tolemek’s temple. He growled, tempted to throw his grenade at the sky. If only that would help.

  Lightning flashed overhead, branching down toward the airship. A crack and snap came from above. Tolemek gripped the railing. The lightning hadn’t cut into the balloon, had it? The material shouldn’t attract it, but the lightweight frame inside might be another story. Was there metal in that?

  A charred rod tumbled from above, quickly dropping below the railing and out of sight.

  “That was one of our lightning rods,” Major Cildark said, coming to the rail beside Tolemek. “They had better finish this fight quickly.”

  “The cannon is ready, sir.” The artilleryman nodded to Tolemek.

  Tolemek rested his grenade against the lip of the barrel, but he did not light it yet. He studied the fight, looking for an opportunity. A third flier had joined the others in the sky. From here, Tolemek couldn’t tell if it was Pimples or General Ort. All of the pilots had their caps pulled low and their scarves wrapped around their necks and heads, with only their goggles exposed on their faces.

  A stream of fire lit up the sky as the dragon twisted back on itself, performing gravity-defying acrobatics to target the flier behind him. Zirkander’s. Caps and scarves couldn’t keep Tolemek from identifying Cas’s slight form in the back. Even as he watched, she lifted that sword. The flier jerked to the left, narrowly avoiding the flames. It should have avoided the flames, but the wind gusted hard, hammering it in the side. The wings wobbled, and the craft was pushed back toward the fire. Zirkander took them down, but not before the tip of one wing burst into flames.