6.0 - Raptor Page 3

  “He told Phel.” Tylie looked around the room, studying the corners of the ceiling as the ladybug strolled across her hand. She opened the window and stuck her head outside, looking in either direction from their second-story perch. “You should have a garden out here, General Ridge. There’s no good place for her.”

  Sardelle winced. She’d gotten used to Tylie’s eccentricities and her young mind, at least somewhat, but she worried Ridge would see her as an oddity—and that she would sense that and be stung.

  “Maybe you should take her to the house,” Ridge said. “If the trees haven’t been incinerated by itinerant dragons, there ought to be spider eggs all over the woods out back.”

  Tylie considered this, then nodded. “Yes.” She tucked the ladybug into one of the loose pockets on her dress.

  “Tylie,” Sardelle said. Time to try again. “Did the dragon communicate with you?”

  “Morishtomaric has been looking for Phel. He told him to be his… assistant.” Tylie spread her arms. “That isn’t the right term. They were speaking in dragon, and I don’t understand all the words. Maybe slave? Servant?”

  “Wait,” Ridge said. “You understand some of the words? In dragon?”

  “Yes. Phel speaks to me that way. It was a long time before I learned to understand him.”

  “He spoke to us in the king’s tongue.” Ridge rubbed his head. “Strongly.”

  “He prefers his own language,” Tylie said. “Phel didn’t want to serve the other dragon. He refused. Morishtomaric came to punish him and make him change his mind.” She bit her lip and looked out the window again. “I can sense him, through our link, and I think he’s in trouble. He’s not responding to me.” She looked back toward them, her brown eyes moist and imploring.

  Sardelle almost walked over to offer her a hug, but thus far, Tylie had shied away from physical contact with anyone except Tolemek. She wished he were here and hoped he’d return from the king’s mission soon.

  “He didn’t say what he wanted Phelistoth to do as a servant, did he?” Ridge asked.

  Tylie shook her head.

  “Finding a creature that can cross all of Iskandia in a few hours isn’t going to be easy,” Ridge said, nodding to Sardelle. “And figuring out how to kill it, or at least get it to leave the country and become someone else’s problem, won’t be fun.”

  Sardelle thought Tylie might object to the idea of killing a dragon—she certainly wouldn’t have wanted Phelistoth harmed—but she merely firmed her chin and said, “Magic can kill a dragon.”

  “But do we have powerful enough magic for that?” Ridge raised his eyebrows.

  “I certainly don’t. Jaxi doesn’t.”

  A small harumph noise sounded in Sardelle’s mind, but even Jaxi wasn’t cocky enough to think she could match a dragon.

  “What about that other sorceress?” Ridge asked. “She was here in Iskandia a few weeks ago. We’re pretty sure she wasn’t trying to do anything that would help us, since last we heard, her goal was to rule over Iskandia as the Cofah emperor’s agent, and since she annihilated two of our officers.” His jaw tightened, but he took a breath and continued. “Is it possible that she could defeat a dragon, if we could make a deal with her?” From his expression and aura, Sardelle could tell making deals with enemy sorceresses was the last thing he wanted to do, but he would if it meant protecting his country.

  “She’s more powerful than I am,” Sardelle said, “but she still wouldn’t be a match for a gold dragon. Or even a silver or bronze. No single human can equal a dragon in power. There are old fables of sorcerers using craft and guile to defeat dragons, but one wonders how often that actually happened.”

  “It only takes once to become the stuff of legends.”

  “Exactly. And to be retold and embellished into hyperbole. Like the exploits of pilots.”

  Ridge’s eyebrows flew up. “My exploits are perfectly factual.”

  “Oh? The last I heard, you single-handedly brought down a whole armada of flying fortresses sent by the vile Cofah Empire.”

  “An armada? Who’s been saying such things?”

  “It was in an article in a magazine from Provalian County. I saw it at the library when I was doing dragon research.”

  “Ah, Provalia.” Ridge waved a dismissive hand. “They’re very rural and quaint. They probably don’t know the difference between an armada and a single floating fortress. Duck was raised in Provalia, you know. He didn’t learn to read until he joined the military.”

  “I thought that was because he was raised by wolves.”

  “Yes. Rural wolves from Provalia.”

  “As opposed to urban wolves?”

  “General Ridge?” Tylie asked—she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of properly addressing someone in the army. “We need to help Phel.”

  Ridge lifted an apologetic hand. “Yes, I know. Sorry. I haven’t seen much of your teacher lately, and I enjoy chatting with her about frivolous subjects.” He smiled at Sardelle.

  She enjoyed chatting about frivolous subjects with him, too, but Tylie’s concerned eyes reminded them that this wasn’t the time for it.

  “I’m scared too,” Tylie whispered, her voice so soft, Sardelle wondered if she had heard correctly.

  “For Phelistoth?” she asked.

  “Yes. And for me. Morishtomaric wanted to take me away with him.”

  “What?” Ridge asked. “How do you know?”

  “He said a Receiver would be useful. And that he’d show me how to use my power. He said it would be an honor for me, but I was scared of him. I want to stay with Phel and Tolie.”

  And me, Jaxi added. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s growing attached to me.

  I didn’t know you spoke to her that often.

  I don’t, but what I say is wise and fascinating.

  Sardelle snorted inwardly. She wished Tylie would grow attached to Jaxi—and to her—since the only thing keeping her in Iskandia was her brother. It would be unfortunate to teach her, only to have her lured back to Cofahre to end up working for the emperor one day. Sardelle didn’t like hearing about this other dragon wanting Tylie, either. She couldn’t imagine why such a creature would find a human of any talent interesting. Phelistoth had been a unique case, with Tylie being the only one he’d been able to communicate with, however subconsciously, while he had been sick and locked in that pyramid. Whatever this Morishtomaric wanted of her, Sardelle doubted it was anything good.

  “All right, ladies,” Ridge said, closing a logbook on his desk and grabbing his cap and flight jacket. “I’m convinced something needs to be done. We’ll see if the king has time to talk to us. He needs to hear about his dragon cavorting about so close to the city.”

  “He wasn’t cavorting,” Tylie said sternly.

  “Frolicking?”

  Sardelle waved for Tylie to put on her sandals and slapped Ridge on the arm for teasing her. He wriggled his eyebrows and captured her arm, linking it with his as they walked out. Tylie jogged ahead, her sandals slapping on the bare floorboards.

  “We should frolic later,” Ridge suggested softly as they trailed after her.

  “I’d be amenable to that. There hasn’t been much time for a good frolic lately.”

  “I know. Despite Angulus’s promise to give me an assistant to do the paperwork, I’ve been busy from dawn to dusk, if not midnight.” He leaned closer to kiss her temple and breathe in the scent of her shampoo. Sardelle flushed, pleased with the attention. “You should have accepted his offer for a room at the castle,” Ridge added. “It’s just up the hill. I could have come over during my lunch breaks. To visit.”

  Yes, more than once, she had second-guessed her request for Ridge to rent a cottage beyond the city walls. She had thought it best to find a secluded place, since she would be teaching Tylie, and who knew when a dragon would show up on the lawn. But the idea of being closer to Ridge was appealing. He had come home to visit at lunch back when she’d been sharing his house on base.

>   “I suppose I could reconsider his offer, but I’m not sure it’s appropriate for officers to pop into the castle for lunchtime dalliances.”

  “Why not? Kaika does.”

  “I think it’s different if your dalliances are with the king. Rules probably don’t apply.”

  “No? Too bad I don’t want to dally with him.”

  Outside, the rain had stopped and humidity thickened the air. Ridge released Sardelle so he could return the salutes of the officers and soldiers walking down the busy thoroughfare between headquarters, administration buildings, the vehicle pool, and the front gate. Tylie dropped back to walk beside Sardelle, shyly avoiding the curious eyes that turned toward her.

  “Phel said I should ask you about something,” Tylie said as they approached the gate.

  “Oh?” Sardelle tilted her head. As far as she knew, the dragon hadn’t suggested she could be of any use at all to Tylie. He wasn’t rude, but he was dismissive.

  And arrogant, Jaxi said.

  Less so than this new dragon, I’m beginning to sense.

  I don’t know about that. All dragons think themselves superior to everyone and everything else on the planet.

  You’re awfully worldly on this matter, considering dragons didn’t exist in your era any more than they did in mine, Sardelle observed.

  I’m very well read on the matter. And not, Jaxi was quick to add before Sardelle could interrupt, all from romance novels. Trust me: all dragons are arrogant.

  I see. At least Phelistoth hasn’t lit any of Ridge’s furniture on fire.

  A moot argument, since bronze and silver dragons can’t breathe fire.

  “He said you might be able to help me find a soulblade,” Tylie said.

  Sardelle blinked a few times. She recalled that Tolemek had come to Iskandia hoping to find one for his sister, but it hadn’t occurred to her to try and find one for her new student.

  Because soulblades aren’t for new students, Jaxi said, sounding a touch arrogant herself. They’re for accomplished sorcerers who have proven themselves worthy of a powerful companion. They’re certainly not for children.

  I wasn’t that much older than Tylie when we were bonded.

  You’d been studying for more than fifteen years. And you’d saved the life of High Inquisitor Valdon. You heal the right people, you get a sword. It’s a rule.

  Sardelle snorted, and Tylie glanced at her.

  “Sorry,” Sardelle said. “I’m discussing it with Jaxi.”

  “She doesn’t think I should have a soulblade?”

  “She didn’t say that.” Not exactly. “We’re talking about where other ones might be located.”

  You shouldn’t lie to the girl if you want her to trust us and stick around.

  I’m not lying. We’re now going to discuss locations. A dozen of them should be buried in the rubble of Galmok Mountain, along with the remains of the Referatu headquarters. You never mentioned if you’d been chatting with any of your brethren during my three-hundred-year nap.

  That’s because I wasn’t. The other blades all went dormant shortly after their handlers were killed. That’s what happens if the link isn’t continually remade and reaffirmed through contact between two magical beings.

  Sardelle hadn’t known that.

  Could a dormant blade be woken? She couldn’t believe that a soul could be lost simply because a soulblade wasn’t used for a while.

  Possibly. Three hundred years is a long time. We were never meant to be gifted with immortality. Just a chance to continue on for a time as advisers.

  Kasandral seems to have been alive and throbbing with magic for a few millennia, Sardelle said, naming the dragon-slaying blade that had been in Colonel Therrik’s family for centuries.

  Kasandral is a tool, not a former real person, and besides, he’s been taken out and handled now and then.

  Sardelle grimaced, remembering the blade in Cas’s hands, how it had tried to kill her, how it had killed Apex.

  “Do you think I should have a soulblade?” Tylie asked, plucking at the material of her dress. It was hard to wait patiently while someone else had a telepathic conversation.

  A major had fallen in at Ridge’s side and was talking to him about something. The officer glanced at Tylie after she made her comment.

  I’m considering it, Sardelle responded, speaking telepathically. Even though the king had made it clear that Sardelle was to be allowed in the city and on the base, she couldn’t let herself forget that the average Iskandian subject found magic to be something despicable and evil, if he believed in it at all. It could make sense, she added to Tylie. In my time, soulblades were only given to mature sorcerers who had proven themselves, either in battle or in their field. Healing, in my case. But there are so few people who remain who are trained at all. We must consider that the times have changed.

  Good luck getting a soulblade to believe that and consider her, Jaxi stuck in, the words clearly only for Sardelle.

  If we could find a soulblade willing to bond with you, Tylie, Sardelle went on, the soul inside could become a mentor and help with your training.

  I already have Phel to train me, Tylie said, her voice musical and pleasing in Sardelle’s mind.

  Tylie had learned telepathy from Phelistoth long before Sardelle had met her, but beyond the rudimentary skill, there was an appeal, almost an allure to her mind that came through the link. Receivers, people gifted with extreme telepathic range, had been rare even in her own time, and she had only worked with one, but she remembered the woman having a similarly pleasing aura that drew a person, almost like a moth to a flame. Sardelle wondered if the dragons felt some of that, too, and if it had to do with why Phelistoth—and now Morishtomaric—wanted to stay close to her. She would have to do some more research. Unfortunately, the records the Iskandians had kept spoke very little of magic, sorcery, and dragons. So much had been lost over the centuries, if not willfully destroyed. Sardelle wouldn’t mind a visit back to Galmok Mountain for more reasons than to hunt for soulblades. She remembered all of the books that those miners had extracted and wondered if they had been kept after Ridge had left as the fort commander. She hoped so.

  There’s no reason why you can’t have two mentors, Tylie. Or even three. Sardelle touched her chest.

  Except a soulblade would get grumpy at having his or her tutelage countermanded by a dragon, Jaxi interrupted.

  Is it just me, or are dragons not the only ones who have arrogance problems?

  I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Hm. Addressing Tylie again, Sardelle said, When I studied at the Referatu Youth Institution, I had instructors for each subject. You can learn much by having multiple tutors.

  Tylie smiled agreeably. “Good. Phelistoth said that having a soulblade would help me protect myself when he’s not around.”

  “That’s true.”

  Sardelle did not mention the other reason the idea of a Referatu soulblade for Tylie was growing on her. Any sword they found buried in Galmok Mountain would be of Iskandian make and would have an Iskandian soul nestled within it. It wouldn’t take kindly to being taken to the empire. She had been looking for a way to tie Tylie to this continent. This might be it.

  Chapter 2

  Tolemek dropped his pack beside the door of his lab, inhaling the familiar chemical-scented air, mingled with the faint earthy odors from the reptile cages. He lit a few lanterns to drive back the encroaching twilight and hurried past cabinets and worktables to check on his creatures. The lab assistant he shared with the biologist across the hallway had promised to feed and water them. He needed to head out to Zirkander’s place to see Tylie and thank Sardelle for watching her, but the lab was on the way, and he wanted to return the equipment he had taken.

  Before he reached the cages and terrariums, he paused, an uneasy feeling coming over him, a sense of something wrong. Someone had been in his lab while he had been gone. He looked around, trying to remember how he had left everything. He couldn’t p
ut a finger on what was amiss, but some subconscious memory promised him something was.

  “The lab assistant,” he muttered. Who else could it have been?

  Walking slowly and peering into all of the alcoves and corners, he continued to the reptiles and arachnids. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been here, someone not authorized to be here.

  Against the back wall, a cabinet door stood ajar. That was odd. After his years aboard airships, airships that often saw battles that shook their frameworks, he had a habit of closing doors and drawers securely. Would the lab assistant have been snooping in a cabinet of chemicals? He doubted it. Those chemicals could be found in labs all over the building. Also, the people here left him alone, and they left his work alone. Having had the moniker of Deathmaker as a pirate kept the curious away.

  Tolemek detoured to look in the cabinet. He didn’t see anything missing, and the jars had not been pushed about.

  “Tolemek?” came a soft voice from the doorway.

  He spun, almost knocking a spider terrarium to the floor. He hadn’t heard her approach, but he recognized that voice, and all thoughts of snooping and intruders fled from his mind.

  “Cas!”

  He had only been gone for a week, helping the king’s team move its secret weapons facility to a new home, and given how seldom she had been about even before he left, he hadn’t expected her to be waiting to greet him. Delight filled his heart when he spotted her face peeking around the doorjamb. He almost laughed at his reaction. He had been trying to steel his heart to what had seemed inevitable of late, that the distance she’d been constructing between them meant she didn’t want to be with him anymore, and that she would eventually tell him.

  “I just got back.” Tolemek lifted an arm, offering a hug, though he feared she wouldn’t accept it. She’d been shunning hugs of late, shunning any display of sympathy or tenderness. Even if she hadn’t physically pushed him away, ever since Apex’s death, she hadn’t returned any of his gestures of affection.