Gold Dragon

by Lindsay Buroker

  “How about you just kiss it for me?” Trip said. “And then rub some of your luck on me.”

  “You want me to rub you? That’s disgusting.”

  “But kissing balls isn’t?”

  “Of course not.”

  A throat cleared behind Trip, and he sensed Rysha walking up. He turned to face her, his smile widening.

  “That’s not the discussion I expected to walk in on.” She stepped forward and hugged him.

  The two military police looked like they wanted to object to all these people coming close, but Trip didn’t give them a chance to. He wrapped his arms around Rysha and kissed her.

  “Oh dear, not this again,” another woman’s voice came from down the hall.

  He broke the kiss, his smile faltering when he saw Aunt Tadelay approaching. She wore a prim black and blue dress and a matching blue hat with an ostrich plume stuck in the band, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line of disapproval.

  “I promise we won’t get naked and have sex here, Aunt,” Rysha said, clasping Trip’s hands.

  Trip hadn’t expected such bluntness from her, at least not with her aunt, and watched the woman’s face warily.

  “I certainly hope not,” Aunt Tadelay said. “Public displays of affection make those around you uncomfortable and are completely unseemly, especially for proper noble women.”

  “There’s a woman who’s unlikely to kiss my balls,” Leftie muttered from behind Trip.

  “It’s good to see you.” Trip squeezed Rysha’s hands and did his best to ignore Leftie. And the aunt.

  “I came to offer support. And…” Rysha leaned around him to peer into the room. “Have you seen Lord Lockvale yet?”

  Something about her tone made Trip believe she didn’t expect to see the man. Had something happened? He was debating on poking into her surface thoughts when General Zirkander spoke.

  “Haven’t seen much of anyone yet. No judge, no witnesses for the opposition, no opposition. Could it have to do with King Angulus’s recent announcement?”

  Rysha grinned, as if she knew exactly what he meant. Trip hadn’t paid attention to the newspapers this morning, but he looked now since Zirkander waved the front page in his direction.

  “The engagement?” Trip asked, remembering Zirkander’s words from the night before. “Is that truly something that would affect this?” He waved toward the room.

  Even though Zirkander had suggested it would, Trip hadn’t truly believed it.

  That’s because you’re an unworldly youth who has no idea what the ramifications of a royal marriage are in the city where the king lives, Jaxi informed him. In the entire country. All of Iskandia will be abuzz about this today. Even if he weren’t marrying a commoner and a female soldier—that is entirely unprecedented, you understand—it would be huge news. But this addendum makes it absolutely scintillating to the masses.

  “Trip?” Rysha nudged him. Had she said his name more than once?

  “Sorry, Jaxi is educating me.”

  “Ah. Have you missed her mentorship since she’s gone back to Sardelle?”

  Sardelle, who was paying attention to Trip, now too, quirked her eyebrows.

  “That’s perhaps not a question I should answer when she’s in the room.”

  “Oh?” Rysha asked. “Afraid she’ll fry your balls?”

  “Yes. And mine have a much lower melting point than Leftie’s.”

  Aunt Tadelay, who was pushing her way into the room, threw him a startled look. Leftie grinned at Trip and winked at her.

  “Heathens,” she muttered and stepped inside. She looked at the empty dais and the empty seats behind the railing. “I came here to publicly shame Lord Lockvale for his heinous attempt to acquire our property, and he’s not here. Nor are any of his cronies.”

  Trip looked at Rysha, surprised. She must have been responsible for her aunt showing up, but how had she ever talked the woman into coming to speak against Trip’s accuser?

  Rysha was looking at her aunt instead of at him. “Not here? That’s so odd. Perhaps someone took your advice last night, Aunt.”

  Tadelay adjusted her hat as she turned to regard her niece. “Did someone? I hope my advice was followed in a dignified manner appropriate for a noble woman.”

  “Mostly dignified, yes. Pressure was used rather than threats. Though there was a sword fight…”

  Trip started to grasp what they were talking about since distinct imagery drifted to the surface of their minds as they spoke. He shouldn’t have been telepathically eavesdropping, but with the women standing so close, and with his curiosity brimming over, it was hard not to.

  “So long as it was a dignified sword fight,” Aunt Tadelay said. “Did your dragon assist you?”

  “She did come along, but incineration wasn’t required, so she mostly sat on the table and looked fierce.”

  Aunt Tadelay curled a lip. “On the table, dear? Where people eat?”

  “She changed into a tiger first.”

  “I’m not sure that’s any less unsanitary.”

  Rysha turned her smile toward Trip again. “I can explain later,” she said, though he sensed a hesitancy from her, as if she didn’t want to explain. Or didn’t want him to know that she’d stepped in on his behalf to solve his problem for him? That did not bother him whatsoever.

  I think I got the gist, he whispered into her mind and hugged her again. He refrained from kissing her since so many eyes were upon them, but he did rest his forehead against hers.

  Aunt Tadelay issued a distressed sound. “So much public affection.”

  Thank you, Trip told Rysha, ignoring everyone else.

  It was the least I could do after you stepped in to help my family. I’m not positive they deserved your help, but I do appreciate it. One day, I hope they’ll come around and realize that you’re a wonderful man.

  I was thinking of building them a coffee maker.

  She grinned and swatted his chest. That could do it.

  “If Major Kaika can get a king, I don’t see why a captain couldn’t get a princess,” Pimples said from the end of the row of seats.

  “You’re not still pining after that Cofah princess, are you?” Duck asked him.

  “We write letters to each other. And I sent her a fancy design for a bookcase that frames her reading nook in the palace. She invited me to come to Cofahre, but I told her I’d be shot on sight there and invited her to come here instead. I told her I’d build us a treehouse full of bookcases.”

  “You think she’s going to leave a palace for a treehouse? Did an otter fall on your head?”

  “She likes treehouses. She told me so.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Clear the way,” the military police said, abruptly pushing people away from the doorway, then snapping to attention as a colonel in a dress uniform strode in. His name tag read: Srandark.

  Trip didn’t recognize the name. Hadn’t a lieutenant been assigned to him? Or maybe this was the judge?

  Srandark pinned Trip with a cool gaze, and Trip’s hope that the rest of the world would forget about his inquest disappeared. Not only had someone remembered, but that someone looked dyspeptic. Before the officer said a word, he reminded Trip of his old squadron commander, Colonel Anchor.

  “Don’t witches salute when a superior officer walks into the room?” the colonel demanded.

  Trip whipped up a salute, feeling foolish for the lapse in courtesy—it ought to have been automatic after all these years in the army—but he’d been distracted. And distressed.

  Trip felt someone’s presence behind him, Zirkander coming over to stand by his shoulder.

  “He’s a sorcerer, Colonel,” Zirkander drawled, his voice as casual as typical, but his eyes uncharacteristically hard. “They’ve got different rules than witches. Different genders, too, I understand.”

  The colonel, who clearly hadn’t seen Zirkander when he walked in, cursed under his breath and snapped up a salute of his own. Trip sensed that he hadn
’t expected to run into anyone who outranked him in his own inquest room.

  Sardelle came to stand on Trip’s other side, somehow not looking out of place, though she was one of the few people not in a military uniform. “Technically, there can be male witches, but we have only sorcerers and sorceresses in Iskandia, those trained in the referatu way.”

  The colonel’s eyes grew round, and he stepped back, radiating discomfort at this open talk of magic. Then his belt unbuckled, and his trousers dropped to his ankles.

  “Is that the referatu way?” Zirkander murmured, his eyes much friendlier as he considered Sardelle.

  Sardelle raised an innocent hand.

  Jaxi snickered into Trip’s mind.

  Extremely immature, Azarwrath remarked.

  Tell me you didn’t laugh, Jaxi said.

  I did not.

  Liar.

  Aunt Tadelay, the recipient of a full-on view of pale underwear as Srandark bent to yank up his trousers, gasped and whirled away, raising a hand to shield her eyes.

  Trip might have laughed, but something in the distance tickled his senses. He turned toward the north wall, as if he could see through it, and stretched out with his mind.

  “I thought Colonel Tlen was presiding over this inquest,” Zirkander said, not commenting on the clothing mishap.

  Srandark shot him a dark look as he refastened his buckle. “She was pulled away by a political officer to be consulted on the king’s upcoming nuptials.”

  “Hm.” Zirkander looked at Sardelle. “We may have made a miscalculation.”

  “There’s trouble coming,” Trip said.

  “Not necessarily,” Zirkander said. “Jaxi can keep dropping his drawers all day.”

  “Ridge,” Sardelle admonished.

  Technically, I can, Jaxi told them. That hardly required a strenuous amount of effort.

  Trip shook his head. “I mean dragons. I sense them coming in. A lot of them.”

  “The same group as before?” Zirkander’s tone lost all its amusement.

  Trip nodded. “There are at least eight, and a powerful gold is leading them.”

  “How far out?”

  “Forty miles, but it won’t take them long to cover that.”

  “Is your platform ready to fly?”

  Trip hesitated. “It’ll fly, but we’re still in the middle of mounting the rocket launchers. Nothing’s been tested.”

  “Eight dragons sound like a good way to test.”

  Trip wanted to protest—no dragons, no wind, and a beautiful sunny day sounded like a good way to test his project—but what was the alternative? Go up in fliers with nothing greater than the chapaharii swords and some acid-filled bullets, and risk losing more people?

  “It was six dragons last time,” Zirkander said softly, perhaps thinking the same thing, that it would only be worse if they didn’t have a way to change the odds.

  Trip nodded firmly. “I’ll do my best to get it in the air, sir.”

  “Good. Take Ravenwood and her dragon. If you can’t get it in the air right away, get a ride up to the hangar, and get your butt in a flier.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  If Rysha minded being given orders by a different battalion commander from her own, she didn’t show it. She squeezed Trip’s hand, then ran to her aunt for a quick hug and to issue a warning to lie low.

  Zirkander turned to his officers, all of whom had rushed to gather around him. “Leftie and Blazer, get up to the hangar and prep the fliers. Pimples, go round up our elite sword wielders. Duck, sound the alarm, warn the city. Sardelle—” As Zirkander turned toward her, Trip wondered if he would presume to give her orders, “—I’d love to have you up there with me if you feel you’re able.” He glanced toward her stomach, though her figure had mostly returned to normal proportions since she had delivered the baby.

  “I’m ready.” Sardelle reached between the chairs to pull out the two soulblades. “And Jaxi is chomping at the bit.” She tossed Azarwrath to Trip as Rysha rejoined him.

  “Good,” Zirkander said. “You know I pine when you’re not in the air with me.”

  “And Jaxi?”

  “Yes, I pine without her fireballs incinerating enemies.”

  With Azarwrath in hand, Trip was ready to take on the dragons, so he didn’t wait to hear more. He started toward the door, but found the colonel blocking the way.

  “I don’t know why you think there are dragons coming when the city alarms aren’t sounding,” he said, “but I have an inquest to start in—”

  His trousers descended.

  “Cursed badgers’ teats,” the colonel hollered.

  Zirkander grabbed the officer and pulled him out of the way, so Trip didn’t have to. “Get in the way again, and she’ll incinerate your pants.”

  “Who?”

  “My wife’s sword.”

  Trip, already racing into the hall, didn’t hear the colonel’s response, but he was starting to understand why someone would pine for Jaxi in her absence.

  Rysha ran at his side. “You think your platform is ready?”

  “Seven gods, I hope so.”

  24

  The dragons are very close, Storyteller, Shulina Arya said as they flew over the city toward Bhrava Saruth’s temple.

  Rysha and Trip rode on her back, and Rysha could feel the tension in his stiff body. He had to not only be worried about the attack—never before had this many dragons assaulted the capital all at once—but also about the performance of his weapons platform. Would it do everything he wished? And everything he had promised the king? Not getting a chance to test it first was asking for trouble.

  They’ll be visible on the horizon at any moment, Trip said. I sense that they’re flying toward the city, but the temple is on that same heading. Shulina Arya, we need to get there first just in case…

  You think they’ll attack your platform while it’s still on the ground? Rysha asked.

  I don’t know, but I’m sure they know it exists. I had a gold dragon spy on it one day. It’s possible they don’t know exactly what it is, but they’re smart enough to make some guesses. The spy would have sensed the tainted ore.

  I am very fast, Shulina Arya said. We will arrive first. And then we will go into valiant battle.

  Rysha hoped she wasn’t thinking about confronting all eight at once. She would prefer to let those dragons sail overhead, become focused on the city and the fliers, and then come in from behind to attack one at a time.

  The temple came into sight, its rocky island tucked inside the protective inlet. The gray and black weapons platform in the back was as large as the temple itself with railings to keep anyone from falling over the side once it was airborne and twelve towers positioned around the edges with weapons on them. At least Rysha hoped the rocket launchers had been mounted. She spotted someone in a white jacket with dark hair kneeling atop one of the towers.

  Tolemek doesn’t have all the rocket launchers installed yet, Trip told her grimly. Only four of the twelve are mounted. I should have been here to help him this morning.

  Rysha reached back and patted his leg.

  Bhrava Saruth is not here to defend his temple. Shulina Arya sounded surprised. He is at the butte in the city where the fliers are taking off.

  The city needs dragons to help, Rysha thought. Is there any chance Phelistoth or your parents are on the way?

  My parents are not on this continent. They are doing more research on population problems and have been discussing breeding prey animals, the way humans breed livestock, to increase the availability of desirable food for dragons.

  A noble pursuit, but not one that would help the city today. What about Phelistoth?

  He is outside of the city at the house of magic, picking up the sorceress Tylie.

  Good. At least, Rysha thought it was good. She hoped Sardelle’s children would be fine with all the adults in the house gone. Would the younger students watch over them?

  She’d been a little surprised Sardelle had v
olunteered to go up with Zirkander, and that he’d seemed to expect that she would. What would happen to their children if they both died in battle? Maybe the odds were against that, but they had to have considered it. Were they so dedicated to the city and the country that they were willing to risk themselves? Maybe they believed it necessary, that to lose their sovereignty to the dragons would be unacceptable, for them and for their children.

  As Shulina Arya dove toward the back of the temple, the first dragons came into view, two large, powerful golds leading the flight.

  Rysha worried about what would happen if all eight descended to deal with Trip and the weapons platform—and her and Shulina Arya—before continuing on to the city. She pulled her spectacles strap out of her pocket and affixed it, having a feeling she would need that extra security before the day was over.

  They landed in the center of the steel platform, with Trip leaping off before Shulina Arya folded her wings in. Rysha thought he would run up to talk to Tolemek, but maybe they were already in telepathic communication because he ran instead toward a ladder that led down into the platform itself, toward the area housing the engines.

  Before he reached them, the deck thrummed, a sign of them starting up.

  I feel the magic of this place, Shulina Arya said. Your mate has made powerful artifacts.

  Will those dragons sense them? Rysha said.

  Of course. But I also sense… There is something most unpleasant embedded in this structure. Shulina Arya lifted her taloned foot and peered at it, as if something distasteful might be sticking to the bottom.

  The banded iron, Rysha said. We’re hoping dragons won’t like it.

  I certainly do not. Shulina set down her foot but soon lifted the other one to peer at it.

  I’m going to attempt to camouflage the platform now, Trip spoke into their minds. I’m not sure how effective it will be—the tainted ore will fight me. If Shulina Arya can help, I would appreciate it. Even under ideal circumstances, my meager talents wouldn’t fool dragons.

  I will do so, Shulina Arya replied, though it is unfortunate that we don’t have a trap to spring. We could have lured them all down here.