Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Looks that way, sir,” Duck said. “It’s a real uppity one. I shot at it—I thought I shot it—but it didn’t seem to do anything.”

  “It’s got some kind of magic protecting it, I bet,” Pimples said. “Like a dragon!”

  No, like some shaman’s familiar, Sardelle said into Ridge’s mind, with a mental sigh.

  A cousin to that owl we fought at Magroth? Ridge asked.

  That’s what I’m guessing. As with that owl, I can’t sense it. I can see something with my eyes, but nothing with my mind.

  “Get Kaika in close enough to throw bombs at it,” Ridge said, approaching and joining the rest of the squadron in the Flying Badger formation they were using to attack without getting in each other’s sights. “It’s a shaman’s familiar. It’ll take a lot to kill it, but I blew one up with a bomb once. They’re not immortal and not as impossible to hurt as dragons.”

  “Those are the prettiest words I’ve heard you say, General,” Kaika said, slapping Blazer on the back and pointing over her shoulder. “Get me snuggled up to it.”

  “How about I fly upside down so you can fall on its back and snuggle there?” Blazer said.

  “It doesn’t look big enough to ride, or I’d be game.”

  The hawk came into Ridge’s machine-gun sights as Duck veered left and Ridge’s flier momentarily led the formation. Even though he knew better, that bullets would do little to hurt it, he fired. Maybe he could distract the overstuffed bird while Sardelle and Jaxi did something.

  He had a better look at the creature now. The brown hawk was several times normal size, and with its wings spread, it seemed even larger than a man.

  It twisted and spun in the air, and Ridge couldn’t tell if his bullets hit. The hawk flapped up and banked hard, then flew straight at him.

  The air grew brighter beside Ridge, and he flinched as a fireball roared away from the flier and toward the creature. The hawk started to twist away from it, but a gust of wind hammered it, knocking it into the fireball’s path.

  Ridge heard the familiar’s alarmed screech over the roar of his propellers. He hoped Jaxi’s fire incinerated it instantly.

  Unfortunately, the bird flapped away from the ball of flame as it dissipated. Ridge couldn’t tell if it was injured. It kept flying, not appearing hampered or noticeably charred. Ridge got a few more shots in before he flew past it, making room for the next flier to swing into the spot he’d left.

  I think it’s stronger than that owl, Jaxi said. More resilient.

  Just what I wanted to hear. Ridge banked to pull back into the end of the formation for another run. He glimpsed people out on the docks below, gaping up at the sky.

  As Jaxi hurled another fireball, Sardelle said, I’m looking for the shaman. If a familiar is in the area, you can bet its master is.

  Even more good news.

  If his familiar is more powerful than the one we faced before, the shaman will be too.

  Ridge sighed and told himself it would still be better than fighting a dragon. He hoped that was true.

  Jaxi cackled. Got it.

  Ridge was on the verge of congratulating her, but the hawk came into view ahead, flying out of another fireball.

  Damn, Jaxi add.

  “It’s hard to get my passenger close enough to throw bombs when there are fireballs all over the place,” Blazer said.

  I’m being careful not to hit any of the fliers.

  “Jaxi promises not to incinerate you,” Ridge said. “Why don’t you two coordinate and try throwing a bomb at the same time as her fireball is on top of the hawk. Might give it some extra boom.”

  “I don’t need extra boom,” Kaika yelled from Blazer’s back seat. “I’ve got plenty of boom.”

  “Let’s see it then.” Though Ridge hated to miss a turn at shooting something, he veered away without firing so he could make room for Blazer and Kaika. It wasn’t as if his guns were doing anything.

  But the hawk wasn’t interested in letting him veer away. It flapped its powerful wings and flew after Ridge.

  “Hang on, Sardelle!” he yelled over his shoulder, then threw his flier into a dive.

  The wide river lay below, and Ridge spun, picking up speed as his craft plummeted toward it. He glanced back. The hawk was right behind them.

  Ahn and Pimples tried to flank it, angling fire at it from the sides, but once again, the bullets did nothing.

  Ridge pulled up at the last moment, the belly of his craft skipping off the water. He stayed low, flying past the fingers of the docks stretching into the water. The hawk stayed right behind him, gaining ground. He’d hoped it might be too slow to pull up and would plunge into the water, but he wasn’t surprised it hadn’t been.

  Up ahead, Ridge spotted the city’s massive dry dock extending into the river, the berth capable of housing an ironclad warship. He flew toward it, though he couldn’t see around its tall walls yet. Orange light flared behind him, Jaxi hurling another fireball.

  I think I singed it that time, Jaxi said.

  I don’t sense the shaman anywhere, Sardelle admitted. The hawk may be buying him time to escape. Or he could be camouflaging himself. I’m attempting to knock the hawk back so it won’t follow you.

  The flier jerked and shuddered, and it was as if they were flying through soup instead of air. Its belly dipped for the water, and Ridge pulled up, trying to compensate.

  Sorry, we’re working on that, Sardelle said.

  The familiar has a few tricks, Jaxi growled into Ridge’s mind.

  The soup disappeared, freeing up the flier’s wings, but they had lost speed and time. When Ridge glanced back, the hawk was close enough to bite their tail. But it didn’t want the tail.

  “Duck!” Ridge yelled to Sardelle.

  She dropped low in her seat as the hawk flapped over her and straight for Ridge. He ducked down but didn’t release the flight stick. He pulled up on it, and the hawk slammed into the back of his seat. Wings battered Ridge. He pushed the flight stick forward, and the flier dipped toward the river.

  Some invisible force struck the hawk—it almost knocked Ridge’s cap and goggles off too. A talon gouged him in the cheek as the creature launched itself from the back of his seat. He jerked an arm up to protect his head, but it flapped away. He spotted Sardelle, almost falling over the side of the flier as she drew back, blood on the tip of Jaxi’s blade.

  “Thanks,” Ridge rasped, not quite sure what had happened, but knowing he didn’t want to let that bird get close again. His cheek flamed with pain, and blood dripped to his chin.

  “Are you all right, sir?” Blazer asked from wherever the rest of the squadron was.

  “Yeah,” Ridge said, feeling foolish for multiple reasons.

  He’d broken the formation they’d been carefully flying in and unintentionally led their target away. If he and Sardelle did not finish it off, he would feel extra foolish.

  We poked it good, but it’s relentless, Jaxi said. It’s coming back down.

  They were still flying low, almost skimming over the river. As Jaxi had promised, the hawk veered toward him again. Maybe it had decided Ridge and Sardelle were the most likely of the group to trouble it.

  Ridge spotted the hulking dry dock facility again, and on impulse, he turned into it. He was going too fast, and he knew it. Reckless, General Ort would have called him.

  A ship filled the dry dock space, not a warship but a great freighter. There wasn’t much room to maneuver.

  Aware of the hawk soaring around the corner after him, Ridge jerked the flight stick, tilting their wings and turning the flier on its side. He flew between the wall of the dock and the hull of the craft with scant inches to spare.

  A clunk came from behind him, but he couldn’t glance back to check on it. He didn’t dare. They had already passed most of the ship and the back wall of the dry dock loomed ahead.

  Still flying sideways, Ridge tilted his craft toward the sky again, then twisted and flew upside down over the deck of the ship, head
ing back toward the river. He spotted the owl standing on the bottom of the dock, its wings blackened. It seemed dazed. Had he caused it to crack its head on the ship? He hoped so.

  Jaxi hurled another fireball at it. Shouts of alarm and fear came from the deck of the freighter. Fortunately, her ball of flame spun down between the hull and the dry dock wall where it wouldn’t hurt anyone—except its target.

  The hawk tried to leap aside, but it seemed disoriented. It bumped into the wall, then disappeared as the fireball swallowed it.

  Ridge took his flier out of the dry dock and shot across the river. The rest of Wolf Squadron was doing the equivalent of aerial pacing.

  “Now would be a good time for bombs,” he announced, craning his neck to look back.

  The hawk recovered, and it leaped off the bottom of the dry dock, heading out toward the river again. Did it seem slower? More charred?

  “Coming in at it,” Blazer said.

  Jaxi flung a fireball as the hawk flew out of the dry dock. It skimmed under Blazer’s flier to strike the creature as Kaika dropped a bomb on it. The explosive ignited as soon as it reached Jaxi’s flames.

  A thunderous boom rang out, and Ridge felt the blast wave from across the river. He banked, intending to go back in to attack the creature again if needed.

  The hawk dropped into the water. Stunned? Dead?

  Pimples, Ahn, and Duck headed in to finish it off, but the creature’s wings fluttered. Ridge thought it would try to launch into the air again, but instead, it pointed its beak downward and dove, disappearing beneath the surface. Pimples and Duck fired, their bullets splashing into the water. If they struck the hawk, Ridge couldn’t tell.

  “Is it dead?” he asked over the communication crystal. Maybe someone else had a better view. Sardelle? he added silently, twisting to look back at her.

  She sat calmly with her soulblade resting across her lap. Ridge was relieved that she did not appear wounded. She must have done a better job of ducking than he had.

  “Well, it’s gone, sir,” Duck said. “But it looked like it propelled itself underwater rather than simply sinking. Can magic hawks swim and hold their breaths?”

  “Probably,” Blazer said.

  I can’t tell if it’s alive or dead since neither Jaxi nor I can sense it. Sardelle leaned forward and rested a hand on Ridge’s shoulder, her gaze locking on his cheek. I’ll heal that as soon as we get a chance.

  That bad, huh?

  It looks painful.

  It does sting a little, but since I didn’t get rabies the last time a magical bird maimed me, I’m not too worried about it. Unless you tell me I should be worried. I’d hate to be rabid for our wedding.

  That would disturb the guests, she said.

  Ridge turned back forward to ensure he wasn’t on course to run into a tree or building. He guided them up the river, searching for sign of the hawk—or the shaman Sardelle had mentioned.

  Fortunately, most of them are military and understand these things happen, he added.

  Perhaps this is the time to let you know I invited a noblewoman from the capital today.

  Oh? You don’t think your haircutter and the postman will be uncomfortable in the presence of nobility, do you?

  Let’s hope not.

  “I don’t see it anywhere,” Pimples said. “I’m going to hope it’s dead.”

  “Permission to land and check the berth, sir?” Ahn asked, her voice tense. “I’m hoping a shaman’s familiar means we’re close to finding Tolemek.”

  “Permission granted. We’ll come down too.”

  Ahn was already veering for the docks. Ridge hoped for her sake that Tolemek was close, but he feared that if he was, the shaman would be too.

  Tolemek strained and grunted, his fingers brushing the glass vial perched tantalizingly close to the edge of the table, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. Sweat dribbled from his temple. It was hot and stuffy in the cabin, and his efforts made it seem more so.

  He shifted, pulling every millimeter of length he could from the spot where his chain was bound, then he reached again. His knuckles bumped the vial. It wobbled, and he cursed, afraid it would fall and roll farther away from him.

  Voices came through the open hatch. He couldn’t understand him, but they sounded choppy, urgent. He hoped whatever was going on would keep Yendray and whoever else worked on the boat busy.

  The vial tipped over.

  “Damn it.” He tried to lunge after it.

  But it rolled toward him instead of away. He jerked his chained wrists down as it fell off the table and caught it before it shattered on the deck.

  Tolemek carefully extracted the stopper. The vial was about two-thirds full, but it wasn’t a large container. He feared it wouldn’t be nearly enough to be helpful, but he carefully dribbled some of it between his skin and one wrist shackle, then did his best to mash the iron against his flesh and spread the liquid around. He dripped a few more drops on the bottom of his wrist, then stoppered the vial and set it on the table.

  The sounds of more voices came from the other end of the corridor outside his hatch. A thrum started up, and the deck vibrated. An engine?

  Tolemek had no idea where he was, but he had a feeling it would be better for him if the craft stayed where it was. He tugged on the shackle, trying to pull his lubricated wrist and hand through it. If he managed to escape, maybe he could sabotage something on the vessel on his way out.

  Tendons ground painfully against bone, and even with the lubricant, the shackle scraped off his skin, but he managed to yank his hand free.

  “One down,” he breathed, grabbing the vial to apply the substance to the other wrist.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough for the shackles around his ankles, nor would it have worked anyway. He still wore trousers and boots.

  With a grunt of pain, he twisted and yanked his other hand free. He unfastened his boots and socks, and eyed his feet and ankles, as well as the tiny amount of serum left in the vial. As he’d suspected, there was no way his big feet would slip through the shackles, even if they were lubricated.

  At least with his hands free, he could stand up. He almost cracked his head on the surprisingly low ceiling when he did. The chain allowed him to take a step in each direction from the table. He pulled open the cabinets he had been eyeing earlier.

  The craft lurched, and he stumbled against the wall—the hull. They were definitely going somewhere.

  Tolemek recovered and opened the cabinets mounted near the ceiling, hoping for some chemical goodies he could put to use to free his ankles and perhaps create a weapon to help him escape the ship.

  Instead, he found bowls, cups, crackers, sardines, and lard. Not overly helpful.

  He rummaged through the food stuffs he could reach and also found some vinegar in the back. He tugged out that and a wooden cup, setting them on the table. With his limited magical powers, he thought he could evaporate the water in the vinegar, leaving only the acetic acid. It was a weak acid, only mildly corrosive to metal, but the chain wasn’t in that great of shape. Maybe he could pick on one of the rusty spots, especially if he could caress the acid a bit with his power to intensify its effectiveness. He’d done such things before, but not while wearing iron shackles. Since iron had a tendency to dampen magic, he worried he wouldn’t be able to draw on enough power.

  “Won’t know until you try,” he muttered, standing barefoot on the deck and staring down into the cup.

  Steam rose from the vinegar as he concentrated. His head soon ached from the effort, and an acrid scent rolled out of the cup, making him think of Cas’s comment about inhaling fumes and withering balls. He backed up slightly, then refocused.

  More shouts came from the front of the boat, making him extra aware of time passing, but the most of water eventually disappeared, leaving the acid nearly pure. He left just enough water so it wouldn’t crystallize, then took his cup to the deck. He spread the substance on the rustiest, weakest-looking links on the chain. Normally,
he could have used his power to assist the corroding along, but he wasn’t able to affect the iron itself. He was forced to wait, hoping the acid was strong enough to do something.

  A hatch clanged somewhere in the craft, and Tolemek worried he was out of time. He braced his bare feet against one bench and his back against another, gripped the chain with both hands, and pulled and twisted. It didn’t give right away, but he did feel a faint shift, the link stretching. He heaved several more times.

  Finally, one rusty link pulled open. It was enough. He slipped the links apart, and he was free. Sort of. His ankles were still shackled and attached to each other, but he could take short steps. With luck, that would be enough.

  As he stood, Tolemek had the sensation of movement, the deck vibrating under his bare feet. He still didn’t feel the familiar movement of a ship bobbing in the waves. Wherever they were, it had to be a very calm day out there. The voices at the end of the passageway were also calm now. Yendray might return at any moment to question him further.

  Carrying the end of his chain so it wouldn’t drag on the deck, Tolemek hunted around for a weapon. There didn’t seem to be a damn thing, unless he wanted to hurl crackers at his enemies. At a loss for a better idea, he fastened the lid on the lard container and took the tub, imagining himself like Captain Kaika hurling a bomb down a passageway.

  When he reached the hatchway, he peered into the gray metal corridor outside. The ceiling was low out there too. This entire ship had a claustrophobic feel to it.

  He could see the backs of men’s shoulders up ahead. They were sitting and facing away from him in a cabin or engine room of some sort at the end of the narrow passageway. One had a hand on a set of levers rising from the deck.

  Tolemek didn’t want to go toward the men, but he didn’t see many other options. Built-in bunks lined one wall, some with curtains drawn across them, with a single closed hatch in the wall opposite them. Did that lead to a set of stairs heading above decks?

  Since the men’s backs were toward him, Tolemek crept toward the hatch. There was a big wheel to turn the lock, no simple latch or doorknob. He imagined it creaking uproariously as he moved it.