Unraveled: Heritage of Power, Book 4

by Buroker, Lindsay

  Rysha with Dorfindral in her hand was a powerful ally, and he knew they would, with enough practice, figure out all the kinks of fighting side by side or back to back. But they hadn’t had that practice yet. And half the time, he still questioned his own power and what he could do. At one point, he’d been tempted to create a tornado to obliterate the entire warehouse. If not for the unconscious guards and the animals that had still been caged inside, he might have done it.

  He had tried to attack the floating palace when he’d realized Grekka was over there, using her mental abilities to unlock the animals’ cages from a distance. But the wave of power he’d thrown at the other barge hadn’t done a thing. It was as if she’d been wielding a chapaharii blade and somehow extending its influence to protect the palace all around her. It shouldn’t have been possible. Besides, he hadn’t seen anything in her hand. Maybe whatever had protected Bhodian from Trip’s mind-reading attempts also protected his barge.

  The rowboat settled onto the sand. Rysha released Trip, patted his back, then stepped out with sword and pistol in hand. She scanned the jagged dark boulders that rose up at the back of the beach. Houses started up a quarter of a mile away, and a path led between the rocks and toward them, but Trip didn’t sense any people—or animals—nearby.

  Rysha must have reached the same conclusion because she turned back, offering her arm as he levered himself out of the boat. “I’ll stand guard while you heal yourself. You can do that, right?”

  “I think so,” he said, though he admitted it would be a lot harder to concentrate when he was the one in pain. But if he couldn’t manage the task, Azarwrath had a healer’s training. And there was always Jaxi and her willingness to incinerate the bullet… while it was inside of him.

  “Good.”

  Trip grunted and settled on his back on the sand. A burst of fire burned within his shoulder, and he gasped, his back arching.

  It’s gone, Jaxi said. Your organs are still there. You’re welcome.

  Heathen, Azarwrath said.

  You can’t tell me that wasn’t efficient.

  As the pain faded, Trip slumped onto the sand again. Azarwrath used his power next, and healing warmth—a much more subtle and less painful warmth—filled his shoulder.

  Relieved by the soulblades’ help, Trip let his lids droop most of the way shut until only a thin star-filled crack was visible, with Rysha at the edge of it, standing ready to face any danger that might come down the path. She adjusted her spectacles, and he smiled.

  He appreciated her watching over him, but he wouldn’t have minded if she snuggled down next to him. Their clothes were damp from the spray of the ocean waves, and he shivered as his body cooled down.

  The warmth in his shoulder faded, and he lifted his arm experimentally. It felt tender, but no longer hurt.

  Thank you, he told the soulblades.

  You’re most welcome, Jaxi said.

  I did the hard work, Azarwrath said.

  And clearly want a reward for it. Maybe Trip will buy you a cookie.

  Azarwrath sighed dramatically.

  Trip wondered if the soulblades would be offended if he suggested they sometimes acted more like teenagers than centuries-old sorcerers.

  “I’m better,” Trip said when he caught Rysha looking down at him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, though his arms were weak. “I might need a few minutes before I can walk back.”

  “I would offer to carry you, but I’ve yet to meet any men who were willing to be carried by a woman. Except my brothers.”

  “You offer to carry men around a lot?”

  “Just when they’re tired and look like they were run over by a flier squadron.”

  Trip rubbed his face. “Your brothers let you carry them?”

  “When we were younger, they did. We’d take turns toting each other around on our backs. We’d race along the trail by the lake, always forgetting that there were spots where the branches hung low. I managed to smack Krey’s face on one while going full speed. Chipped his tooth. To this day, he’s got a noticeable gap. Maybe you can heal it for him when I take you to visit my family. How are you at teeth?”

  “I haven’t tried to rebuild any teeth yet. It seems like it might be more challenging than tendon, muscle, and flesh.” He warmed a little inside, pleased by her statement that she planned to take him to visit her family. He wasn’t sure how that would go, but he wouldn’t shy away from trying to get them to like him. Or at least, to decide he was acceptable for Rysha, likable or not. Noble or not. Maybe his three-thousand-year-old birth mother had been noble. He laughed at himself, doubting nobility had been a concept back then.

  “You can do bones, though, right?” Rysha sat down, not beside him but behind him, her back to his. Probably so she could continue to watch the path.

  “Yes, but bones usually fracture, rather than having big chunks gouged out of them. And they’re on the inside where blood vessels can deliver the body’s building blocks to them, to provide material for the repair process.” He wasn’t sure on the details so he didn’t attempt to explain further. So far, he’d healed people intuitively. Maybe one of Sardelle’s classes would discuss how bodies worked and the way to heal all the various parts of them. “If nothing else, I could probably fuse some other material to the spot, something like porcelain that could look like a tooth, so people wouldn’t notice anything awry.”

  “I think that would improve his looks, but I’m not sure he would agree to it. Krey likes to think he’s a big tough fellow who could handle himself in a battle and survive on the streets if he had to. He seems proud of that broken tooth, even if it was delivered by a wayward tree branch rather than some thug’s fist.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “He samples alcohol.”

  Trip snorted. “That sounds like something that could only be a job if you’re noble-born.”

  “Possibly true. Basically, he oversees the cider, wine, and beer that’s made from the fruit and wheat grown on our property. He makes sure things taste good and are ready to drink. We have a distillery and a winery near the highway. They’re actually quite profitable for the family, I understand.”

  “I wonder if making money is an easier way to gauge success than… other ways.” Trip thought of his goals, or the ones he’d held until the dragon revelation. To become a renowned pilot and a hero to Iskandia. To drive enemies away from its shores. To earn medals, to know he was making a difference to his country.

  He always felt different from people like his grandparents, simple folk who enjoyed their work and simply wanted the freedom to create and live in peace, doing as they wished day to day. But how did one ever truly know if one succeeded at life? For that matter, how would he know if he succeeded? Would it be based on the number of medals he earned? How did General Zirkander judge success? Did he believe himself to be a hero the way the rest of the country did? Or did he analyze what he was doing every day and come up short sometimes?

  “It is black and white if all you do is count nucros at the end of the year,” Rysha said. “But my brother is very proud of what he does, independent of the money. He’s always determined to make the best-tasting beverage and win medals.”

  “Medals for winemaking?” Trip imagined hanging a wine-bottle-shaped medal up in his room alongside an army one.

  “Awards, anyway. Sometimes, medals are involved.”

  “Huh.” Trip’s legs felt stronger, so he shifted his weight to stand up. “We better get back to the room and check on Major Kaika. It sounded like the stasis chambers will continue to be targeted.” He planned to suggest moving to a new hostel in the morning, if not sooner.

  “Yes, and it sounded like that Bhodian knew something about that.”

  “Did it?”

  “Well, not sounded, but looked. He clenched a triumphant fist when he heard that someone had gotten away with one.”

  Trip had missed that. He’d been too busy trying to read the man’s mind and hadn’t p
aid much attention to his body language.

  He gazed back in the direction of the harbor, even though the terrain of the coastline hid it from sight. He was tempted to go right back out there and try again to reach Grekka and Bhodian. Bhodian, especially, if Rysha’s instincts were right. But he would like to figure out a way to question both of them.

  In addition to wanting to recover his little sister, Dreyak’s death continued to haunt his thoughts, along with his concern that Cofahre would blame Iskandia for it. As often as he’d dreamed of being a great war hero, he admitted it would be unfortunate if something caused Iskandia to slide back into more troubled times, with the empire at their doorsteps again. His people had dragons to deal with already; they didn’t need to add imperial conquerors. He might not know what success looked like, but he had no trouble envisioning failure.

  “If Major Kaika finds a ship in the morning that’s willing to take us home, what will you do?” Rysha asked as they started up the beach toward the path.

  “I don’t know.” Trip hoped it took Kaika a few more days to find them passage.

  “I understand wanting to find the little girl—I’m willing to stay and help you do that—but I think Kaika has a point that it’s important to get the other ones home, especially now that we know people are looking for them. Possibly powerful people.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m worried about the babies because I want them to grow up healthy and happy, but I’m also worried… There’s the potential for Bhodian or whoever is trying to get to them to use them against us. Against you. I’m a little alarmed by how many people in this city seem to be gunning for us right now.”

  Yes, and he hadn’t helped matters by sneaking into a powerful businesswoman’s barge, snooping around, and getting caught doing so.

  “Just a little alarmed?” he asked.

  “Yes, but it may escalate to a lot if we return to the hostel and find our room on fire.”

  “So long as Jaxi isn’t responsible.”

  Rysha cocked her head. “Is there a reason she would be? Because she likes to fling fireballs?”

  “And incinerate things. Don’t ask where the bullet in my shoulder went.”

  “Hm, I suddenly feel fortunate to be walking beside you. With your body fully intact.”

  “I also feel fortunate to be walking beside you.” He rested his arm across her shoulders.

  I may gag, Jaxi announced.

  So long as you don’t incinerate anything else today, Trip thought, sighing at the interruption.

  Rysha slid her arm around his waist as they maneuvered up the path, and that made everything better.

  Nothing at all? What if there are enemies waiting around that bend? Or apes with nefarious nostrils that need the attention of a fireball?

  Let the young man have a private moment with his lady, Azarwrath said.

  Was that an order? It sounded like an order. I don’t take orders from other sorcerers. Or anyone else.

  Trip groaned, afraid another argument was forthcoming.

  “You don’t seem to be in pain anymore,” Rysha said, “so I’m going to assume soulblades are squabbling in your head.”

  “You’re coming to know me well.” He kissed the side of her face.

  “And the odd company you keep.” She patted his chest.

  “Are you including yourself in that category?”

  “Absolutely.”

  * * *

  Trip must have been exhausted after all the power he had drawn upon the night before, in addition to the energy his body had used to heal itself, because he didn’t wake up until sun slanted through the shutters of their hostel room. He opened his eyes, immediately checking to make sure the disassembled wagon and stasis chambers were where he’d stacked them the night before, after their little group had changed hostels. A little twinge went through him at the visual reminder that one was still missing, that the night before had been a waste.

  He didn’t see Rysha and Kaika in the room and grew concerned until his senses assured him they were nearby. In the lavatory together.

  He cocked an eyebrow, finding that a little odd. The attached lavatory was a tiny space with a hole in the tiled floor and a spigot on the wall, nothing more. How sad that he considered this room an upgrade from the first place they had stayed, which had only offered a chamber pot for biological needs.

  Trip sat up, his back sore after sleeping on a thin straw mattress inhabited by bed bugs and centipedes—one had oozed out of a hole in the cover to bite him in the middle of the night.

  A powerful sorcerer destroys such creatures before going to bed, Azarwrath observed, perhaps sensing Trip rubbing the bite.

  As does an un-powerful one, Jaxi added. In my day, vermin control was covered in the first year of Referatu training.

  Perhaps you could have covered it last night, Trip grumbled silently.

  You didn’t ask. I’m still waiting for you to master the workbook Sardelle sent along.

  There hasn’t been much time for homework.

  Spoken like a man who wants to be perforated with bug bites.

  “Just use one hand,” came Kaika’s voice from the lavatory.

  “One hand is too hard, ma’am,” Rysha said, her words strained.

  “Because you haven’t practiced that way. Look, watch me. You have to center yourself so you don’t have to hold on with the other.”

  Trip pushed himself to his feet, though he wasn’t sure if he should look in on the conversation or not. The curtain that hung from a rod over the doorway was only partially drawn, so they must not have been too worried about privacy, but he had his doubts about peeking into the lavatory.

  He paused by the stasis chambers and rested his hand on one, gazing down at a dark-haired baby boy visible through the lid. He lay curled on his side and suspended in gel, but the way his thumb was stuck in his mouth made it seem he could stir to life at any moment. The boy looked a lot like the curly-haired girl who had been taken. Rysha had mentioned that they might be twins. Sadness grew in Trip’s heart at the idea of the boy losing his closest relative, the only full-blooded relative he had. His mother, like Trip’s mother, had to have died thousands of years ago.

  “No amount of adjusting is going to make this anything other than awkward,” Rysha said in the lavatory.

  “I didn’t say it wouldn’t be awkward.

  “You said it would feel good.”

  “I said it would feel good afterward. Once the pain stopped.”

  It was his need to use the lavatory that finally compelled Trip to venture toward the curtain. Otherwise, he would have let his curiosity about what they were doing remain unsatisfied.

  He cleared his throat, and the women fell silent. “Can I, uh…”

  “If you need to pee, come on in,” Major Kaika said. “I’m sure Lieutenant Ravenwood wouldn’t mind you lending her a hand.”

  “Ma’am,” Rysha protested. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I’m just trying to find the right angle.”

  “Something Trip would be happy to help you with, I’m sure.”

  “Are we still talking about pull-ups?”

  “What else would I be talking about?” Kaika’s voice held a smile.

  Pull-ups? Trip pushed aside the curtain and found Rysha and Kaika dangling from the water pipe that ran through the tiny room near the ceiling.

  Kaika winked at him and pulled herself up and down three times, using only one arm. Rysha made a valiant effort, but she looked like she had been hanging up there for a while and was tired. She brought her other hand up, used it to help, and did a couple of pull-ups.

  “Having a spotter can help you learn,” Kaika said. “Don’t you agree, Captain?”

  “I just came to use the hole.” Trip pointed at the lavatory’s version of a toilet.

  “We’re not stopping you.” Kaika switched hands and did a few more pull-ups on the other side.

  Rysha dropped to the tiles, shaking out her arms. “I don’t want to w
atch him pee.”

  “So don’t watch.”

  “I, uh, think I need a rest.” Rysha glanced at Trip as she hurried out, but she seemed embarrassed and didn’t hold his gaze for long.

  He didn’t know if it was because of the conversation or because she’d failed to do the pull-up when he’d been watching. Maybe he would point out to her that it was unlikely that he could do a one-armed pull-up.

  Kaika dropped to the floor and wiped rust off her hands. “This is a dubious gymnasium, at best.”

  Trip thought about pointing out it was unlikely the architect had intended it as such, but said only, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I went to the docks while you were snoozing.” She propped her fists on her hips and eyed him frankly.

  Uh-oh. Had she heard all about their ineffective snooping? Trip hadn’t explained much the previous night since he’d been tired and embarrassed about the result. Kaika had known he and Rysha had gone to the harbor, but she probably hadn’t intended for them to draw the attention of half the city—or that of vindictive and prominent business owners with long reaches.

  “I’ve secured passage for us on a steamer heading to Iskandia on its way to the empire. It’s waiting for cargo now, but the captain plans to leave two mornings from today. He has room for three people and their belongings.” She waved through the doorway toward the stasis chambers.

  “That’s good, ma’am.” Trip meant it. Two days gave him more time to look. He’d feared she would find something sooner.

  “Will you be coming with us?” Kaika lifted her eyebrows.

  “As long as I find the stasis chamber first, yes, ma’am.” He would go back to the barges, out to the palace one this time, and have a frank talk with Bhodian about that. And if he learned more about Dreyak’s death at the same time, all the better.