Tylie did not respond.
Instead, another voice spoke into his mind, one he had never heard before, but one that resonated with great power.
Who are you? it asked.
As the soldiers pushed him along the bridge, Tolemek decided it would be best not to answer.
Chapter 7
Therrik held up a heavy fur, his back to Sardelle and Bhrava Saruth, who crouched on a boulder just outside the cave entrance, his long neck craned so he could peer inside. Sardelle also watched Therrik from the entrance. She wanted to run in and look around herself, but she did not want to risk trampling upon evidence that would identify the occupants. The rough floor was mostly quartz and granite, but dirt rested in the crevices, so perhaps Therrik could find some footprints. Unfortunately, none of the items left in the cave contained any magic, and her senses could only tell her about life in the area now, not life that had been here days ago.
The marmots and chipmunks that scurried for cover when Bhrava Saruth approached were amusing but not exactly what we’re looking for, Jaxi said.
“There were two beds.” Therrik tossed the fur to the floor, where he had found it. “Here, and one in the back.” He pointed toward more furs in the shadows along the far wall. “They would have had easy access to water from that stream outside. There aren’t any food tins or other garbage, but there are some bones over there.” He waved to a side wall, then crouched to examine the floor, touching some of the packed dirt. He frowned toward Sardelle, or maybe Bhrava Saruth. “Could you tell your dragon that his big head is blocking all the light?”
Sardelle turned toward Bhrava Saruth at the same time as his head rotated toward her. It was easy to think of him as benign, even friendly, when he chattered amiably into her head, but it was impossible not to notice the length of his fangs, the size of his powerful jaw, and the alienness of those slitted pupils when he was so close.
I do not think this one will ever make a suitable worshipper, high priestess, he said with a mournful quality to the words, apparently oblivious to the fact that those fangs made her want to step back.
Would you want him for a worshipper? Sardelle asked. He’s rather crusty.
Crusty is too innocuous of a word, Jaxi said.
This is true, Bhrava Saruth thought agreeably. I much prefer the humans who are adoring and adorable, though sometimes one feels triumph at adding a challenging worshipper to one’s following.
Sardelle was pondering, with some concern, whether he considered her adoring and adorable when Therrik scowled over at them and snapped, “My light? It’s getting dark out there. Do you want me to identify the occupants or not?”
Bhrava Saruth’s eyes narrowed and locked onto Therrik for a long, cool moment, then he tilted his snout toward the ceiling, and his jaw parted. The feeling of magic being called upon battered at Sardelle’s senses, so she had some warning, but she was still surprised when flames shot out of the dragon’s mouth.
For a stunned second, she thought Bhrava Saruth had grown tired of Therrik and decided to incinerate him. But Therrik shouted in alarm and ran to the side of the cave, pressing his back against it. The flames were not searing the air where he had stood; rather, they bathed the ceiling of the cave, emitting intense heat but intense light as well.
Sardelle almost laughed, both at the dragon’s solution and at the pure alarm contorting Therrik’s face.
Jaxi did laugh, the peals echoing in Sardelle’s mind.
Against my better judgment, I may be starting to like him, Jaxi admitted.
Shall I ask him if he’s ever been worshipped by a soulblade?
I don’t like him that much.
“I believe your light is being provided,” Sardelle said above the soft roar of the flames. Therrik’s eyes were darting around in his head while the rest of his body remained frozen against the wall. “You may want to take advantage of it before Bhrava Saruth runs out of air.”
Therrik blinked a few times, eyed the flames dancing on the ceiling, then managed to peel his back from the wall. He walked in a hunch as he returned to the spot he had been examining, clearly aware of the fire roiling above his head.
“You may want to thank him, too. He’s being quite nice about providing for you.” Sardelle wiped sweat from her brow. The temperature inside the cave must have risen thirty degrees already.
Therrik glared balefully at her. “I’m doing this for you.”
For the king, more like, Jaxi said.
“So I should thank Bhrava Saruth on your behalf?” Sardelle asked.
“Do whatever you want.” Therrik crouched, two fingers touching the ground lightly.
As I said, some humans are more challenging to win over, Bhrava Saruth said.
Indeed.
Therrik worked quickly, leaving drops of sweat all over the rocky floor as he did so. He rose a couple of minutes later and waved toward the entrance. “I’m done. You can turn the lights off.”
The flames disappeared. If dragons could smirk, Bhrava Saruth did so, revealing a few more inches of fang than usual. One might easily mistake it for a sneer.
“Any conclusions?” Sardelle asked, keeping her voice calm, though hope danced in her heart. She was ready to run forward and throttle Therrik if he didn’t share his findings quickly enough.
“There were definitely two people here. Zirkander might have been one of them. I found this.” Therrik presented his open palm, revealing a dusty, scratched brass button with crossed swords stamped on it in addition to the letters IA. Iskandian Army.
Even though she recognized the button immediately, Sardelle’s gaze lurched to Therrik’s chest, to verify. Yes, several matching buttons ran down the front of his military jacket, his polished and less battered.
Sardelle reached out and took the small disk, almost reverently. She had unbuttoned Ridge’s jacket numerous times, and even though every officer in the army had similar buttons on their jackets, she felt certain this was his.
You sure? Jaxi asked. It looks old and battered.
Crashing and being laundered in the river can’t be good for maintaining the quality of clothing. Besides, what other soldiers would have been out here?
If we go back as far as those buttons have been standard on military uniform jackets, there could have been many. Perhaps someone went mad guarding those prisoners and fled into the mountains.
Sardelle sighed at the argument but reluctantly admitted that a button wasn’t the indelible proof she sought that Ridge had been here. It also didn’t prove he was alive.
“I also found a toy in the rocks on the way up to the cave.” Therrik sounded puzzled and fiddled with something in his other hand.
“A toy?”
He held it out, and Sardelle’s breath caught. It was the small wooden dragon charm Ridge kept in his pocket or dangling in his flier, so that he could rub it for luck whenever he needed it. She took it from Therrik and blinked away tears that wanted to form in her eyes.
“This is his,” she whispered.
“He carries toys around?”
“It’s a luck charm.”
Therrik grunted.
“Is there any way to tell how long ago he was here?” Sardelle asked.
“There’s no dust in the furs, no sign that animals have been in this cave. The people who were here didn’t leave that long ago.”
Sardelle nodded, finding the report promising. “Thank you.”
“One more thing,” Therrik said. “Judging by the footprint sizes, one person was a man and the other a woman.”
The sorceress? Sardelle closed her eyes, not wanting to give voice to fears that came to mind at the thought. If Eversong had Ridge, who knew what she might be doing with him? To him.
“If the man was Zirkander,” Therrik said, giving the charm a skeptical look, “and if he was wounded as badly as we believe he must have been, he wouldn’t have walked up here from the river by himself.”
She nodded again. “You said he was dragged out.”
“We’re almost three miles from where he was pulled out. It’s highly unlikely that a woman carried him up here.”
“Unless she had magic,” Sardelle said slowly, hating that their suppositions were pointing more and more toward the sorceress.
“That’s your arena. I’ll try to pick up the trail.” He shrugged and walked outside, lifting his chin and making a shooing motion as he passed by Bhrava Saruth, as if his bravery now could make up for the fact that he’d nearly wet himself when the flames had entered the cave.
Nah, he didn’t do that, Jaxi said. I definitely would have pointed that out.
I’m sure you would have. Sardelle regarded the dragon again. He retracted his head from the cave to watch Therrik study the ground. She felt that twinge of guilt again for keeping him here when he probably had more important things to do, a following to develop or a crystal repository to investigate. Remembering that neither she nor Therrik had thanked him, she did so now. I appreciate your help, Bhrava Saruth.
Excellent! His neck curled toward her, and she thought he might put his head on her shoulder. Unintentionally, she stepped back. He paused and gazed at her. Even with those strange reptilian eyes, he managed to convey a sad expression. You are alarmed by my largeness.
No, she blurted. The realization that she couldn’t lie to a mind reader prompted her to shrug apologetically and add, A little. I’m sorry. It will take me some time to get used to you.
And his fangs, Jaxi said. They’re bigger than I am.
Perhaps this will be easier for my high priestess? Bhrava Saruth backed away a couple of steps, then his form wavered, scales changing color and turning to skin as he shrank in size. Soon, a handsome young man with bronze skin and golden hair stood before her. Unlike when Phelistoth took human form and showed off his flowing silver locks, Bhrava Saruth’s hair was shorter and mussier, flopping into his eyes in a way that made her want to reach out and tidy it. He had also forgotten—
Clothes. Jaxi smirked into her mind. His largeness is still notable. No wonder all those young females were so eager to worship him.
Jaxi!
Yes?
Stop looking. Sardelle had seen nudity aplenty as a healer, but she cleared her throat and shifted her attention to the stream. Perhaps because the dragon had shared with her visions of some of his shape-shifted sexual exploits, she felt more discomfited by this form than the last.
Did I do something wrong? Bhrava Saruth asked.
No, but you don’t need to change for me. Or for anyone. We’ll learn to be comfortable around you, eventually. She eyed Therrik, who had moved down to the stream, his gaze toward the ground. Maybe not all of us, but enough of us. I’m sure you’ll be able to find many friends. She couldn’t bring herself to promise him followers.
Perhaps, but let me try one more time. I do not wish my only high priestess to feel uncomfortable around me.
Sardelle eyed him warily out of the corner of her eye, afraid of what he might come up with next. A cat? A parrot? A tail-wagging hound?
Bhrava Saruth did not shift into an animal, but into another human form, one that made her step back, the tears she had held back earlier springing to her eyes. She tightened her fingers around the dragon figurine and brought her fist to her mouth, unable to speak or even think. The dragon had changed into a perfect replica of Ridge, right down to the twinkling eyes and boyish smile.
Well, Jaxi said, sounding stunned herself. At least he’s wearing clothes this time.
Sardelle dashed away the moisture in her eyes and looked away, even though a big part of her wanted to stare, to touch, to drink him in and pretend it was really him again.
“Did I get it right?” Bhrava Saruth asked, looking down at himself and smoothing his uniform.
“No. Yes.” Sardelle shook her head. “Just choose another form. Anything. Please.”
Bhrava Saruth tilted his head, the puzzled expression so human, so Ridge, that it drove a dagger into Sardelle’s soul. He stepped forward and touched her arm. “I thought this form would please you.”
Sardelle shook her head again and stumbled away. She raced down the slope toward Therrik, hardly noticing when she slipped on the loose rocks. She understood that Bhrava Saruth, for whatever reason, wanted to help her, but she couldn’t look at him without her heart hurting, not when he looked like that. Her jumble of emotions made it hard to even find words to explain the problem to him.
Therrik heard her stumbling over the rocks and looked back. His eyes widened when his gaze shifted past her, toward where she had left Bhrava Saruth.
“What the—” His jaw drooped, the rest of the words forgotten.
Maybe the dragon was changing form again. Sardelle did not check. She did not want to risk looking at Ridge’s face again, not when an enemy sorceress had him and was doing who knew what to him. She didn’t even know for sure that Ridge was still alive. What if Eversong had sucked all of the information from his mind and then thrown his body into the river?
Sardelle’s fist tightened, the wooden charm digging into her palm.
Wait, Bhrava Saruth called.
Sardelle stopped, more because she had reached Therrik and didn’t know where to go from there than because of the plea. Still, the way Therrik’s gaze shifted to something on the ground made her realize it might be safe to look. She turned just as an animal ran up her leg. It happened too quickly for her to react, and soon a blond—or perhaps golden was the better word—ferret sat on her shoulder. It chittered at her in a squeaky voice.
That’s you, right? Sardelle asked, though she was fairly certain neither polecats nor domesticated ferrets, which he appeared to be, were native to the Ice Blades.
Of course! I sometimes assumed this form so children would not be afraid of me. It was difficult to convince them to worship me like this though. They thought I was a pet.
I can see where that would be problematic.
“Angulus better promote me after this.” Therrik was staring back and forth between Sardelle and her new shoulder warmer. “This is officially the strangest assignment I’ve ever had.”
“It’s not typical of my usual day either,” Sardelle said.
“I don’t believe you. You must be amazing in bed.”
“Uh, what?” She stared, startled by the abrupt topic change.
“For Zirkander to put up with your entourage.” Therrik’s wave included the sword at her waist as well as the “ferret” on her shoulder. “Trail’s this way. Come on.”
It took a moment for Sardelle to recover enough to say, “Actually, he hasn’t met Bhrava Saruth yet.”
“Lucky him,” Therrik said without looking back.
The proper response, Jaxi said, would have been, Yes, I am amazing in bed.
I don’t want him imagining me between the sheets.
Too late. Fortunately for you, Kasandral is still oozing hatred for you and the dragon into him, so he’s fantasizing about killing you more often than about rutting with you.
Fortunate. That’s me.
• • • • •
The sound of a rifle firing woke Cas from sleep. She jerked alert, finding her own rifle in the dark of her cockpit. She had chosen to sleep up here, rather than trying to find a dry spot in the swamp.
“What is it?” Pimples asked from the flier nearest to hers.
“Animals,” Blazer said. It sounded like she had climbed into the back of his flier. “Some kind of swimming hogs, I think. They came out of the dark and chased me off my stump where I was standing watch.”
“So you decided to hide behind Pimples?” Cas squinted into the gloom. There weren’t any lanterns lit, but she could hear shuffling and grunting noises, along with a splash here and there.
“Yes, I was drawn by his manliness,” Blazer said.
“Captain, you teasing us again?” Duck asked, then cursed. “I think there’s one trying to eat my wheel.” A thump sounded as he tried to scare it away instead of shooting. Cas couldn’t see the details in the nig
ht gloom.
“I wasn’t teasing you, Duck,” Blazer said, “but if you’d like to volunteer for the Pimples treatment, I can include you in later comments.”
“Nobody wants the Pimples treatment.”
“Thanks,” Pimples said dryly.
A howl came out of the trees across the river, raising the hair on Cas’s arms. She wondered if she had stirred up the predators in her twilight run to and from the beach. Or maybe, as she had surmised earlier, the animals weren’t being cautious now that Phelistoth and his fearsome dragon aura had left.
A splash sounded, followed by moist chewing sounds. Duck cursed and thumped the side of his flier again.
“Anyone else entertaining the notion of moving the camp tonight?” Captain Blazer asked.
“You’re in charge, ma’am,” Pimples said.
Blazer grunted. “If only that were true.”
Duck lit a lantern and dangled it from his cockpit by a rope. Cas caught a glimpse of tusks, a bristly snout, and a stocky, mud-spattered body before the four-legged creature scampered back into the darkness.
“If I were in charge—” Blazer inhaled, the red tip of a cigar burning in the darkness, “—I would have flown us to the city, landed at their docks, and gone in under the pretext of needing a break from a long flight. Stayed at a nice hotel with feather beds, enjoyed some shopping from the exotic southern markets, ordered in some grilled tuna steaks—”
Growls came from below her, as one of the pigs thumped against Pimples’ flier, maybe trying to bite the tires again.
“Or grilled pig,” she growled, leaning over the side and shooting.
The creature squealed and ran away. Cas glimpsed it and could have fired a shot, one that would have killed it, but she did not want a pile of carcasses to draw more predators to their camp. She didn’t know if Blazer shared the same mindset.
“That would have been suspicious.” Pimples, apparently not worried about pigs eating his flier, was sketching in his notebook by the tiny glow of his communication crystal. “If they would have let us land at all. We might have been shot upon approach. Our fliers clearly mark us as Iskandians, and if the city is in the middle of cementing an alliance with the empire...”
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