Soulblade

by Lindsay Buroker

  As she turned toward the riverbank, Cas craned her neck to check on the dragon. Dozens of people were in the water around her, pulling off the net. Zia’s raft couldn’t have been more than ten meters away. Maybe it would bounce off and keep going past the dragon. With all those people in the water, Yisharnesh might not even notice.

  The dragon’s head escaped the net as Cas landed on a narrow beach, her wheels more in the water than in the silt. She unfastened her harness and untied the rope as quickly as she could. The dragon roared, the power of the cry rattling tree branches on either side of the river. The humans that she had commanded to help were thrown into the air. Some sailed fifteen or twenty feet before landing in the water again. With the dragon blocking her view, Cas couldn’t see what happened to the raft.

  “Zia, no!” Pimples cried. Still farther upriver, he had a better view. Or maybe a worse one.

  Logs flew into the air, just as the humans had. Pieces of the raft, Cas realized.

  Pimples landed his flier in the water and flung himself from his cockpit, not caring that his flier wasn’t on solid ground. Colonel Quataldo, still in the back seat, shouted something at him. Pimples, already swimming toward the dragon, did not respond. Quataldo scrambled into the cockpit as the flier drifted down the river, scraping and bumping against the ground underneath it. Right now, it wasn’t far from the bank, but it would pick up speed, and Cas doubted Quataldo had any experience flying the craft.

  Cas raced along the bank toward it. She trusted Pimples would heroically rescue Zia—if she had survived that blast—but Quataldo would write demerits for all of them if he had to be heroically rescued, or if they lost a flier. They didn’t have enough extra seats for them all to make it home without that flier.

  Cas waded into the water as the craft floated toward her. She pushed off the bottom and swam toward it. It was already picking up speed, heading toward the center of the river. She imagined it passing her and floating out to sea. If she hadn’t been so busy paddling, she would have cursed Pimples.

  She veered, trying to cut it off. Quataldo saw her coming and leaned out, thrusting the butt of his rifle toward her. Cas lunged and grasped it. Quataldo pulled her in and hoisted her into the air as if she weighed nothing. He plopped her down into the cockpit, a cockpit that had an alarming amount of water in the bottom. More sloshed over the sides.

  “I trust you have more of an idea of what to do up there than I do,” Quataldo said.

  Cas activated the thrusters, hoping they would work. She had never tried to take off from the water before. The power from the crystal was more forgiving than other sources of energy, and no spark of ignition was required to start the propeller, but she did not know how the machinery itself would hold up.

  Nothing happened. The banks floated by as the delta widened. The sea spread out before them, waves breaking across the mouth of the river.

  “Lieutenant Ahn, I would prefer it if we don’t float home.”

  “Yes, sir. Me too.”

  The power crystal beamed happily from its spot under the controls. Cas glared at it and tried to start the thrusters again. If this didn’t work and she got swept out to sea, she would kill Pimples. However long it took her to find her way back to Iskandia to do it.

  On the fifth try, water bubbles rose up around the flier, and a sick gurgling noise came from under the craft. Finally, she felt some lift. They rose sluggishly, but she allowed herself to hope that once they cleared the water, the components would dry out and work better. She wished Blazer had stayed with them, since she had more tools—and knew what to do with them.

  The flier cleared the surface, something clanked angrily, and water spewed out of orifices Cas hadn’t known the craft possessed. The thrusters groaned but picked up power. Soon, they lifted a couple of inches. Just as she was wondering if they would have to hover all the way back home, she thought to try the propeller. Water flew from its blades, but it started right away. They skimmed across the surface, heading toward the higher waves of the ocean, and she tried pulling up on the flight stick. Finally, the craft rose, still dripping and spewing water.

  Cas turned them back toward the river to check on the others. The gold dragon was flying straight toward her.

  “Lieutenant,” Quataldo warned, a rare hint of panic in his voice.

  Already diving toward the water again, Cas said, “I see her.”

  Free from the netting, the dragon flapped toward them. Cas had no idea what she could do to defend herself except get out of the way. When she dipped back toward the river mouth, the belly of the flier almost skimming the water again, the dragon did not follow. She didn’t even glance back. With powerful, determined wingbeats, the creature headed out to sea, water glistening on scales alight in the morning sun. For a heartbeat or two, Cas admired the beauty, but then a jolt of panic went through her.

  “Tolemek,” she rasped.

  “Did you say something?” Quataldo asked.

  “If she’s going out to sea, I’m afraid she’s going after the emperor. Phelistoth is carrying three people, and he’s injured.” Cas let her head thud back against her seat. She reached for the communication crystal, thinking to warn the others and say that they needed to get going immediately, but remembered Duck didn’t have a crystal and that she was in Pimples’ flier, so the only person she could call was Tylie. No, even Tylie had climbed out, Cas saw as she flew closer to the city. She appeared to be helping some of the people who had been thrown across the river in the dragon’s burst of power. Cas commended the effort, but they couldn’t stay here. They had to get back across the ocean as soon as possible. It was bad enough that the fliers couldn’t keep up with the dragons in an even race. The longer they remained here, the farther behind they would fall, leaving poor Tolemek and the others to deal with an irritated gold dragon out in the middle of the ocean.

  In the end, she did thumb the crystal on. “Captain Blazer? Are you still in range?”

  Cas spotted Pimples slogging out of the river, a woman in his arms. Zia, presumably. Cas was too far away to tell if she was conscious.

  “Captain Blazer?”

  “Yes, I’m still here,” Blazer said. “Flying across the ocean by myself because that silver dragon didn’t want to wait on me. I’m not sure he even knows I’m behind him.”

  “I hope he’s flying as quickly as he can, because he’s going to have trouble soon. The gold dragon just left, and she’s heading in that direction.” Cas wanted to ask Blazer to help, to try to delay the dragon, but what would that do? Get her killed, most likely. “You might want to stay out of the way, ma’am. We’ll be along as soon as we can collect everyone.”

  “You get that princess?”

  “We have her. I’m not sure what her status is.”

  “You might want to make sure her status is healthy and happy. In case we need to barter her to someone for our lives. And the lives of everyone in Iskandia.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll try.”

  • • • • •

  As the flier soared toward the capital, tree-filled wilderness transitioning to cleared farmlands below, Ridge grew more and more certain that he was taking an assassin to see the king. What could he do? Land early and insist she get out? Flip them upside down and let go of her? Since she sat in his lap, Mara had no harness to keep her in the seat the way he did. He rejected that idea almost as soon as it came, the notion of letting a woman fall to her death horrifying him, enemy or not.

  Mara smiled and patted him on the back of the head. “Besides, I can hang on very, very tightly.”

  Ridge stared straight ahead, trying to pretend he wasn’t appalled that she could read his mind. How was he supposed to outmaneuver someone who knew his thoughts as soon as he did?

  “You know,” she mused, playing with his hair, “as well liked as you are in every town we go to, you yourself could be a popular king.” Her smile flattened into a smirk. “If something were to happen to the existing one.”

  “I don’t
think popularity has much to do with how the succession is determined.” He kept his voice calm, but inside, his heart beat as rapidly as the propeller blades. She was as much as admitting that she intended to kill Angulus now.

  “Perhaps not, but sometimes usurpers have come along, slain the old monarch and inserted themselves upon the throne. It’s happened in the empire, and I’m sure it’s happened here.”

  “Usurpers who like paperwork and being chained to a desk. Running a country isn’t an easy job, I’m sure.”

  “It could be, for someone who was just a figurehead. He could go off and be popular and fly his little contraptions, while someone else handled the real work and enjoyed the power of the position and the way history would admire her for having so boldly taken that position.”

  “Someone?” Ridge choked. “You?”

  “Perhaps.” Mara’s eyes gleamed with this vision, and her fingernails dug into his scalp.

  “Either you’re delusional, or—” He stopped, not knowing how to articulate the or. Or what? Or she was far more powerful than he could imagine?

  “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded toward the horizon. “I believe that’s your capital city coming into view.” The grid of streets, houses, and buildings was indeed visible now. Beyond that and slightly to the south of their flight path lay the harbor, the butte that held the hangars at one end and the hill of black rocks that held the castle at the other. “Take us straight to the castle,” she added.

  “We can’t do that.” Ridge’s voice came out impressively calm, considering all the flailing his mind was doing.

  “Why not?”

  “This isn’t a military craft, and I don’t have permission to fly into the castle whenever I like. We’d be shot down as we approached.”

  Mara played with his hair, as if the threat bored her. “I’m willing to risk that.”

  “I’m not. Besides, we’d crash if we tried to land this flier within the castle walls. It’s an old model. No thrusters. We need a runway so we can decelerate.”

  There, even she would have to see that logic. And it was the truth. What was he supposed to do? Use the courtyard as a runway? They would smash into a wall before he could brake fully, probably after taking out one of the king’s fancy fountains.

  “I’ve seen you fly. You’re talented. You can make it work.”

  “You’ve seen me crash. I wouldn’t think that would give you confidence in my abilities.” He frowned at her. “Or had we met before that?” Seven gods, was that why Wreltad had stolen his memories? Because they had met in battle before? Because he would have recognized her and known her for an enemy from the beginning?

  Mara smiled cryptically. “I believe you need to turn now if we’re going to land in the castle.”

  Yes, that was true, but his gaze snagged on the dark blue of the ocean, the sunlight gleaming off its surface. Instead of turning toward the capital, Ridge kept them on a path that would take them out over the ocean. There, he could crash them into the waves with enough speed that neither of them would be rescued and nursed back to health.

  You would kill yourself to keep an enemy from reaching your king’s doors? Wreltad asked.

  Wouldn’t a Cofah soldier do that?

  A private or a corporal perhaps. One thinks of officers as being less expendable. And of thinking themselves less expendable.

  I couldn’t be a pilot with an attitude like that.

  Ridge set his jaw and steered toward the open ocean. At least, he tried to steer in that direction. His eyes widened as his hand, operating of its own accord, tilted the flier to head south, straight for the harbor and the city. And the castle.

  He fought the invisible power that controlled him, but he couldn’t twitch so much as a finger. He glared at Mara out of the side of his eyes—his eyes were all that he could move.

  “You will take us to the castle,” she said.

  He couldn’t speak to respond. Fine, he thought, letting go of all his resistance, let’s see if you can land this flier where you want it on your own.

  She chuckled. “Do all men think themselves indispensable?”

  Again, he couldn’t respond. A prisoner inside his own body, all he could do was watch as the flier descended toward the castle.

  Chapter 17

  As they descended, the vibrations of the old propeller trying to shake his teeth out of his jaw, Ridge hoped the guards would mistake him for a Cofah invader and shoot the flier down. He still did not have control of his body, and there was no other way to ensure Mara did not land and attack Angulus. Unless they crashed so spectacularly that neither of them walked away from it. That was a possibility. He was very aware that this craft did not have thrusters as they lined up their approach.

  Out of habit, he tried to dip his hand toward the pocket where he often kept his dragon luck charm. Belatedly, he remembered that he had lost it. There would be no luck for him today.

  Have faith. We will not allow this contraption to crash while we’re aboard it.

  Wonderful. Ridge glanced down at Mara’s waist. He had yet to see Wreltad’s true form—the sheathed knife digging into his thigh did not match the image Wreltad had shown Ridge of an elegant sword. It hardly mattered. He did not doubt that his enemies had magic, not when it was keeping him from flying freely.

  Whichever one of them was restricting his movements allowed him enough leeway to adjust the flight stick. It appeared that he was going to be responsible for this landing. Once again, he thought of veering away from the castle and taking them out to sea—or at least to some deserted beach that could serve as a runaway. A sharp pain in the back of his head punished him, and he lost all ability to move for a few seconds. A warning.

  This isn’t very honorable, he grumbled to Wreltad.

  By now, Ridge doubted Mara had any honor, but he wondered if he might appeal to the soul in the sword. He seemed more reasonable.

  No, Wreltad said, a hint of sorrow in his voice, but if you stay out of the way, you might yet survive this. Tarshalyn enjoyed fornicating with you and believes she would have an easier time ruling here if you stood beside her. She would even let you be king, so long as she had most of the power.

  If you can see in my head, you know I’d never agree to that. The king has my oath. I would be forsworn if I did anything but my best to defend him and protect my country. You say you understand honor. You must understand this.

  I do, but if you stand against her, she will kill you. As she has killed many others who stood against her.

  How many?

  Too many to count.

  Did she enjoy fornicating with them too?

  Only with a few. None of them had your sense of humor.

  What a wonderful accolade. As far as I’ve noticed, she doesn’t value that much.

  I’ve found it refreshing. I believe I will miss you.

  Ridge had no idea what to say to that. It was more eulogy than flattery. Please give me back my memories, Wreltad. Maybe it will change something.

  It won’t.

  Frustration burned in Ridge’s veins as he took them down, the sea air whipping at the flier’s wings, and the kingdom flag snapping on its pole in the courtyard. He steadied the craft, gauging the distance between their wheels and the top of the wall, wanting to cut it as close as he could. The sooner those wheels touched down, the more room he would have to brake. He was aiming at the longest strip of lawn within the walls, a side yard that stretched from the front to the back, broken only by a row of low hedges. He deemed the hedges more desirable to hit than a stone wall.

  Two shots fired, and Ridge instinctively ducked. Even though being shot down might save Angulus from Mara, he couldn’t bring himself to wave and invite fire. To his surprise, there were no follow-up shots.

  Several people ran for the stairs leading down from the wall, men on their way to warn the head of security that an unauthorized flier approached. He wished they knew that an assassin approached.

  On the forward wall,
men dropped to their bellies as the flier cruised over their heads, the wheels just missing the crenellated parapet. The craft hit the grass a third of the way into the courtyard, the bump that jostled them far lighter than seemed appropriate for someone crashing. Of course, it wasn’t the landing that was hard here—it was halting before they hit the wall.

  Ridge pulled on the brake, grimacing as the hedges came up far too quickly. Without a harness, Mara might have been thrown from the cockpit, but he wrapped an arm around her, reacting on instinct before he could consider the merits of letting her go.

  Such a gentleman, a female voice said into his mind—her voice. She grinned and lifted a hand, fingers splayed toward the windshield.

  The hedges flew out of the way, bushes torn from their roots and flung into the air before the nose of the flier smashed into them. Broken branches and stray leaves smacked against the windshield, and Ridge nearly caught a twig in the eye. They neared the back wall quickly. He couldn’t pull the brake any harder. His feet pressed against the floorboard, and his back was molded to the seat, with Mara molded to him.

  Whether it was luck or her applying some of her magic, the flier stopped inches from the wall. Mara seemed supremely unconcerned. She slung her legs over the side of the craft and dropped to the ground.

  Aware of guards streaming from the walls and out of one of the castle side doors, Ridge unbuckled his harness. His legs were rubbery, but he had to get out, to try to keep Mara from hurting anyone. He glanced toward what remained of the hedges. It wasn’t much. Had she done that with her mind? Or some gods-given power?

  “General Zirkander?” a man asked.

  No less than twenty guards formed lines behind the tail of the craft, their rifles pointing toward Mara’s chest. A couple of those rifles pointed at the unorthodox flier, too, with its distinct lack of military or royal paint colors. Ridge was surprised nobody was pointing a weapon at him. Nonetheless, he climbed down slowly without making any abrupt movements.

  The man who had addressed him wore a guard captain’s triple gold sword rank pin on his uniform collar and a brimmed cap with a matching emblem on the front. He alternated frowning at Ridge and at Mara, who wore a vacant expression, as if none of this was of concern and her thoughts were elsewhere.