Table of Contents
Title Page
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Afterword
Soulblade
(Dragon Blood, Book 7)
Lindsay Buroker
Copyright © Lindsay Buroker 2015
Acknowledgments
As always, I must start out thanking my wonderful beta readers, Sarah Engelke, Cindy Wilkinson, and Rue Silver, who had a lot of suggestions for this one (wisely so). I would also like to thank my tireless editor, Shelley Holloway, and the hard workers at Deranged Doctor Design for the cover art and paperback formatting for this series. I hope you enjoy the finished product.
Chapter 1
Sardelle waited in front of the wrought-iron gates to the army fort, the dark stone of the old citadel looming on the far side of the courtyard. One of the corporals standing guard scrutinized the paper she had handed him, an order allowing her access to the complex. She hadn’t tried to enter since she had returned from the Magroth Crystal Mines, since Ridge had... disappeared. She refused to accept that he was dead, not until she found his body, not until she knew beyond a doubt.
It bothered her that a week had already passed since the battle where his flier had gone down. She hadn’t been able to stay in the mountains and search by herself, no matter how badly she had wanted to. The terrain where he had gone down was too rugged to reach on foot, and all of the soldiers—all of the pilots—had been called back to the capital after Morishtomaric’s death.
Too bad your new god abandoned you, Jaxi said while the corporal turned over the paper, examining the back side. Shouldn’t a god offer to fly his only high priestess around?
Bhrava Saruth stayed as long as Phelistoth did. A day. The dragons and the army had only searched for Ridge for a day. It seemed so inadequate. They had found his crash site, then given up, as if there wasn’t any chance he had escaped before the flier had landed or that he had somehow beaten the odds. He was a professional at beating the odds. Everyone had given up on him far too soon.
Until those dragons remembered they had that glowing crystal to study. Thus ended their interest in human affairs.
Sardelle was more relieved than disgruntled that the dragons had disappeared, especially Bhrava Saruth. She had tricked him into aiding them, and she had no idea what she would do if he showed up in the city, expecting her to be his high priestess and to help him find worshippers. She hoped he had a short memory and had forgotten the incident. Maybe whatever secrets lay within that repository of knowledge, as the dragons had called it, would preoccupy him for the next century or two.
“It looks all right, ma’am.” The corporal handed the paper to her and waved for her to pass through the gate.
“Thank you, Corporal.” Sardelle was glad nobody had thought to revoke her clearance, now that General Zirkander no longer occupied an office in the citadel-turned-administration building.
She headed in, her long skirt swishing about her ankles. For once, the ground was dry, the cement walkways clear of puddles. Spring sun beat down upon her shoulders, the air fresh with the scent of the ocean. The warmth and light filled her with hope and determination. If Ridge was alive, she would find him. Even if all she could find were his remains, at least that would allow her to stop wondering. Then she could properly mourn. And wonder if she would ever again find someone who made her laugh and love, whose schemes created danger and excitement in her life such as she had never known. And whose kisses had never stopped making her body sing in response.
Catching a few curious looks from soldiers, Sardelle dashed moisture from her eyes and hustled toward the stone building. She rushed inside, hoping she wouldn’t be questioned by any of the officers who worked there. It was after lunch, so with luck, the halls would be empty, everyone tending to their duties behind closed doors.
She half-expected Jaxi to make a joke about some of the unauthorized duties one officer had been engaged in the last time they had been in the building, but Jaxi had been quieter than usual since Ridge’s disappearance. Whether because she missed him, too, or if she just respected Sardelle’s need to mourn, Sardelle did not know. She knew Jaxi believed that he was dead because neither she nor the dragons had sensed anyone within miles of that crash site. If Ridge had been alive, they should have sensed him, no matter how wounded. Even so, Sardelle was not ready to give up.
She made it to the second floor, to the row of offices that looked out over the harbor, and to the office that had most recently been Ridge’s. The plaque on the door still held his name. Her throat tightened with emotion, and she had to take several deep breaths before knocking. She wished they could go back in time two weeks and that she could stop him from going on the mission. Then she could be coming to visit him today, alive and well in this office.
“Come in.” The deep voice that answered did not belong to Ridge, but she had known it wouldn’t.
Inside, she found General Ort gazing out at the harbor instead of sitting at the desk. He looked at her when she entered, then shifted away from the window.
“Sardelle,” he said, his voice thick with sympathy as he nodded gravely at her.
The sympathy almost brought tears to her eyes again.
This last week, for the first time in a couple of months, she had been missing her parents again, missing that she no longer had family to turn to, any shoulders to cry upon. She had lost so much before she had even met Ridge, and it had all happened in this last year, at least to her reckoning. She had made other friends in this era, but none that she knew so well that she felt comfortable weeping on their shoulders. She had commiserated with Cas that first night they had returned, but the younger woman missed Ridge as much as she did, and perhaps because Sardelle was older, she had felt the need to be the one to offer the shoulder.
It took a moment before she could return the greeting. “General Ort.”
They stared bleakly at each other, neither speaking. She had come for a reason, but her gaze snagged on the desk. Ridge’s desk. Even though Ort had occupied this office for years, she had never been in it when it had been his, and she had never known it as anything but Ridge’s place.
“It was more organized than I was expecting,” Ort said, waving at the desk and the shelves and filing cabinets too. “Honestly, he did a better job than I did at that, despite all his bickering about hating paperwork.”
“The first, no, the second time I saw him, he was standing balanced between a desk and a bookcase, dusting.”
“His mouth made it easy to forget he was quite good at his job.” Ort smiled, taking any sting out of the words. “When he wasn’t busy being insubordinate.”
“Yes.” Sardelle kept herself from imagining Ridge’s mouth—and what wonderful things he’d done with it aside from voicing insubordinate comments. This was not the place for that. “General Ort.” She took a deep breath, preparing to deliver her request.
“You can call me Vilhem.”
“I—thank you. Vilhem, I have a favor to ask.”
She thought he might give her a wary look, but he only nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I was hoping you could let me borrow Lieutenant Ahn or one of your other pilots and a flier. I’d like to go back and d
o a more thorough search than we did the day before we left. Since we didn’t find his... remains, I feel that we gave up prematurely. I’d like to search until we find—until we’re sure. If there’s any chance that he could have survived—”
“Sardelle,” he said gently. “I saw the crash site. Nobody could have walked away from that.”
“Under normal circumstances, I would agree, but we were fighting dragons, and there was magic in use, so you never know. Something extraordinary could have happened.”
His gray brows drew together. “Do you have reason to believe someone else was around who could have somehow saved him from experiencing the same fate as his flier?”
“I...”
The dragon Morishtomaric had been the one to knock Ridge’s flier out of the sky, and he had died soon after, so he certainly hadn’t rescued Ridge. Bhrava Saruth and Phelistoth hadn’t been around when Ridge went down. And as far as she knew, she and Tylie had been the only humans in the area capable of wielding magic. Tylie had been with Phelistoth, not anywhere near Ridge, and she... she, too, hadn’t been anywhere near Ridge, a decision that she had lain awake every night regretting. By staying in the outpost for the fight, she had been able to save Colonel Therrik’s life, but even though she was a healer who should respect all life equally, she would trade Therrik for Ridge in an instant if she had the choice.
I’m not sure if I should say anything and get your hopes up when there’s no reason to, but I do remember thinking I sensed Tarshalyn Eversong around right before those three dragons showed up.
Sardelle straightened. She had forgotten about the sorceress. Jaxi, do you think there’s any chance—
Unfortunately, no. She tried to kill him when the Cofah invaded the capital with their sky fortress, so if anything, he was a pest to her. Even if she was nearby, I’m sure she was focused on trying to get that crystal too. She would have had no reason to help Ridge.
“I’ll take that for a no,” Ort said quietly.
“I’m not positive. I can’t be. That’s why I’d like to go check, so we can be positive.”
Ort sighed and sat at the desk, waving for her to use one of the leather chairs on the other side if she wished. “Normally, I would say yes without reservation. Even if getting Ridge back wouldn’t be a great boon, we owe you a few favors.”
“But?” She sensed the but hanging in the air.
“The Cofah are back and posing a problem.” He pointed toward the window and the harbor, perhaps out to the sea beyond the breakwater. “They know we destroyed two of their airships. The problem is that they think those airships were out over the sea at the time, not hundreds of miles into Iskandian territory. They’re claiming that our attacks were unprovoked and that those were simple patrol ships.”
“Patrol ships dropping explosives into our heartland.”
“Yes, but it is possible the rest of the Cofah don’t know about that. When we questioned our Cofah captives with Tolemek’s truth serum, the men on those airships didn’t remember the sorceress and weren’t sure how they’d gotten there. In fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, if you think that Eversong would be capable of controlling the minds of fifty men at the same time. And if so, would they be left confused as to how they got where they were once she let go?”
Sardelle listened to him, though all she wanted to do was rail at the idea that some belligerent Cofah in the area meant he couldn’t spare a flier for her.
“For a powerful sorceress from the era she claims to come from, it could be feasible. It would be challenging to manipulate so many at once, but possible for someone who specialized in the mind arts.” She frowned, remembering her battle with Eversong. “That said, she didn’t try any mind manipulation on me. Her powers seem to lie more in destruction.”
“Tolemek brought that point up, that she didn’t seem the type to spend years studying people’s minds.”
“It’s hard to know. It might have come easily for her. I can make guesses, but I don’t have a true grasp as to the abilities those direct descendants of dragons had. I only know they were far more powerful than any other sorcerers I ever knew.”
Maybe Wreltad is the one with the mind skills.
Wreltad. That was her soulblade, right? Sardelle frowned down at the carpet, realizing that Jaxi brought up a good point. A soulblade contained the consciousness of someone entirely different from the handler who wielded it, someone who had once been a human being with passions and skills of his or her own.
Yes. We chatted briefly. As you’ll recall, he looked forward to meeting me in noble battle and destroying me.
Did anything in your chat suggest he might have such skills?
He didn’t try anything like that on me, but it wouldn’t have worked against another soulblade. We don’t have brain matter left to manipulate. Just blades and pommels.
Ort stood and came around the desk. “I’m sorry I can’t give you anyone right now.” He touched her shoulder. “We all miss Ridge, and when the Cofah threat is dealt with, I’ll be happy to send Ahn with you to do a more thorough search.”
“I understand,” Sardelle murmured, but she could not afford to wait. If Ridge was alive, it was very likely he was injured, and even in late spring, those mountains were not hospitable.
“I hope you’ll stay close, Sardelle.” Ort lowered his hand. “I’m saying that partially out of selfishness, of course, since you’re amazingly helpful. But we would miss you too. I know Ridge was what brought you here to the army, but I hope you’ll stay around for other reasons too. The general population might not be ready to accept magic and sorceresses yet, but we—” he waved toward the army fort, “—and the king certainly appreciate you.”
“I understand,” she said again. “Thank you for your time, General. Vilhem.”
“Sardelle?”
She turned, hoping he had changed his mind. “Yes?”
“I’m riding out to see Fern this evening, if you want to join me. I think she’d like to see you.”
A sense of bleakness filled Sardelle. Ridge’s mother had made her feel like family, but she had also never learned what Sardelle was, of the magic she could wield. Would she truly like to see Sardelle? Or without Ridge there, would it be uncomfortable and awkward? General Ort had known Ridge and presumably his mother for years. Sardelle had come into his life so recently and into Fern’s life even more recently. Besides, going to see her would be like admitting that Ridge truly was dead. She wasn’t ready to do that.
“I’ll think about it. Thank you for offering.”
Ort smiled sadly at her, and Sardelle turned for the door. She wouldn’t abandon the army or Iskandia, but she wasn’t going to take the chance that she was leaving a living but wounded Ridge out there somewhere. She would check on him, one way or another.
We’re not going on foot, are we? Jaxi shared an image of Sardelle on a horse, a cloak wrapped around her as she tried to find a snow-covered trail that wasn’t there up into the treacherous mountains.
I hope not. There’s one more person I can ask for this favor.
• • • • •
Two guards escorted Tolemek through the castle and toward the big glassed-in patio outside the throne room. Even though he had been invited to meet with the king several times since being placed on the royal payroll, they regarded him warily, fingering their pistols and walking too close to his side for comfort. As usual, he had endured a search that involved poking through his pockets, patting down his arms and legs, making him remove his lab coat, and even lifting his long ropes of hair. Clearly, a man’s hair was the natural hiding place for bombs, poisons, and nefarious serums.
Tolemek wagered Zirkander had strolled into the castle unchallenged, the guards not even bothering to remove his sidearm. He frowned at himself as soon as the thought percolated through his mind. Being jealous of a dead man? Not acceptable. Besides, Zirkander had proven himself a hero here for decades. Tolemek would always be an outsider, and his background was far from
heroic.
“The king will join you shortly,” one of the guards said, pushing open the door that led to the atrium and letting the heady scents of flowers, loamy earth, and citrus fruits escape. “You’re to sit at the table and wait. Don’t touch anything.”
“How can I sit at the table without touching the chair?”
“You’re a witch, aren’t you? Figure it out.”
“I’m a scientist.” When had it become common knowledge that he had dragon blood? He hadn’t even known for most of his adult life, until Jaxi had told him.
“No kidding,” the second man growled, his eyes haunted.
The door shut behind Tolemek and would have bumped him in the butt if he hadn’t scurried into the atrium quickly enough. No, his background was not heroic, and neither Iskandia nor Cofahre wanted to let him forget it.
He walked between the potted trees and vining plants, their limbs stretching toward the glass ceiling, the blue sky visible above. There was already somebody sitting at the wrought-iron table, its surface covered with a forest green tablecloth embellished with leaves stitched in golden thread. His mood lifted immediately.
Caslin “Raptor” Ahn stood as he approached, her uniform pressed, her boots shined, and her short hair flattened from her army cap, which now rested on the table in front of her. She had returned to the military and Wolf Squadron and wore her lieutenant’s insignia once more. Her face was somber—she had just started smiling again after Apex’s death, but then she lost her commander. Still, she greeted him with a hug.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” Tolemek glanced toward the trees, suspecting a few more guards stood on the outskirts of the atrium, hidden by fountains and foliage. He gave her a quick kiss before taking a seat next to the one she had claimed at the far end of the table from where the king sat for these meetings.
“I’m not surprised to see you. I was told this was about a new mission. We’ll probably need knockout grenades and healing goos.”
Tolemek grimaced, fearing his help would be requested not for an enticing new mission but for a very unappealing war. The rumors floating around the capital said that the Cofah were threatening to launch a full-scale invasion to avenge the airships that had been destroyed the week before. The empire might not be Tolemek’s home anymore, but his soul ached every time he had to fight against his own people. He’d been a part of the Cofah army once, and whatever orders the emperor issued, the men were just men, no more evil or bad than their Iskandian counterparts.
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