Origins Page 4

  “So we can or can’t call them hounds?” Blazer asked.

  “They’ll sense you calling them that, rather than hearing it.”

  Greetings, humans! Shulina Arya’s voice rang in Rysha’s skull so strongly that it made her head ache. Speaking of vibrations… Could raw mental power vibrate? Are you going on an adventure? Will it be fun? You did not invite us along.

  As the fliers dropped out of the foothills and headed across farmland and toward the coastal city of Charkolt, the two gold dragons appeared in the distance behind them, just coming down out of the mountains.

  You’re welcome to come along, Rysha thought, mostly because telling a dragon she couldn’t do something didn’t seem wise. Would Shulina Arya be monitoring her thoughts and catch her words? We were sent on this mission by the king. It’s possible he didn’t think you would be interested in accompanying us.

  Angulus also would likely prefer that Bhrava Saruth and his allies be close to the capital, so they could defend the city or other parts of the country if trouble came to Iskandia.

  I love adventures! Shulina Arya cried, the words even stronger than before, and Rysha winced. She doubted the dragon had any idea how loud her voice sounded in a human’s mind or that it hurt. What would it be like to have such power and not even grasp how damaging it could be? And stories. Will you tell me more stories tonight? I want to hear more about the dragon riders.

  Tonight? Rysha thought. Tonight, I may need to help Trip research his heritage, but I should have time for a few.

  I would like to hear the one about the first dragon rider again.

  That is a favorite of mine.

  “Cougar Squadron Headquarters,” Blazer spoke into her crystal. “This is Major Blazer from Wolf Squadron. We’ve got four fliers coming in for the night. Do you have somewhere to put us up?”

  “That depends, Major,” came a prompt and concerned reply. “Will it just be your fliers? Or are you looking for lodgings for those two dragons too?”

  Rysha understood the reason for the man’s concern. He hadn’t said as much, but he had to be wondering if the squadron was fleeing from those dragons.

  “The dragons can find their own lodgings,” Blazer said.

  “I promised to tell stories to one of them,” Rysha felt compelled to add.

  “Correction,” Blazer said. “Our lieutenant has offered to share her bunk with them.”

  “Sounds crowded.” The man sounded less concerned, but still wary.

  “Those dragons are friendly to Iskandia, Captain Vapors,” Trip said. “Bhrava Saruth and Shulina Arya.”

  “That you, Trip?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thought you were bringing your western trouble out east to us for a second. All right, we’ll make room in the hangar for your fliers. Vapors, out.”

  “Vapors?” Kaika asked. “One wonders how that name came about.”

  “Let’s just say that you wouldn’t want to be in his back seat, ma’am,” Leftie said.

  “Ah.”

  The dragons soared closer as the pilots steered their fliers toward the base on the north end of the city. The tang of salt air teased Rysha’s nostrils. She marveled that they’d made the entire trip before dark. It would have taken three days in a steam carriage, thanks to the steep, treacherous road over the Ice Blades.

  Thrusters activated, and the fliers settled onto pavement outside a large hangar similar to the one back in the capital. Blazer came down right next to Trip’s craft, and Rysha caught his gaze as he tugged off his cap and goggles. She hurried to unfasten her harness, grab her pack, rifle, and sword, and swing to the ground. Since Blazer was in charge, she ought to be able to handle greeting the locals. This could be Rysha’s chance for her experiment. Better here than outside of some barracks room—or in front of Trip’s grandparents’ house. He’d mentioned starting his search with them.

  “Trip,” she called, ducking under the tail of his flier and catching him before he could hustle off. To her surprise, he carried Jaxi as well as Azarwrath. Had Sardelle believed he would need the extra help of two soulblades again?

  With them hanging in scabbards attached to his belt, he, even in his army uniform, looked more like some mighty sorcerer of old than a soldier.

  “Hi, Rysha.” He smiled, but a hint of concern lurked in his eyes. He glanced at the scabbard on her belt.

  Since it was still daylight, she couldn’t tell if a green glow oozed from it, but she did sense the sword’s growing agitation, more for the approaching dragons than because of Trip, she thought. This might be the perfect time for a test. The dragons could step in if things got out of hand.

  “Do you have the words? This is a big open place.” Rysha gestured to the pavement around them. “It would be a good place to test the sword. Hopefully, we won’t need an open place, because you’ll tell Dorfindral to stand down, and it will. But just in case.”

  “I have them.” Trip looked like he would say more, but unbuttoned a pocket and withdrew and unfolded the paper she’d given him. “We can try.”

  “Good.” Rysha slung her pack off her shoulder, stepped back several paces, and drew Dorfindral.

  Not only did the sword’s blade glow, but it was like a pale green sun emitting light. The hilt throbbed in her hand.

  Hunt! it seemed to cry in her mind. Images of attacking Trip and then whirling to slay the two gold dragons sprang into her thoughts. Those images were so intense that she had to catch her breath, mentally straining to keep from carrying out the actions. The dragons hadn’t even arrived yet, so there was only one person she could have acted upon.

  Trip watched her, sadness replacing the concern in his eyes. He kept his hands at his sides, open and not touching the hilts of the soulblades.

  Rysha started to whisper the word for stand down, but caught herself. “You do it,” she told Trip. “The second term on the list.”

  “Meyusha,” he said without looking.

  Dorfindral’s hilt stopped throbbing, and did its glow lessen slightly?

  “Meyusha,” Trip said again, stretching a palm toward the blade, as if to calm a snarling dog.

  This time, Rysha felt power pouring off Trip, his dark green eyes blazing with some inner strength, a greater-than-human strength, and her breath caught. Dorfindral’s glow disappeared entirely, the blade going dark in her hand, but she barely noticed. She couldn’t look away from Trip.

  He lifted his gaze from the sword to her, and a fierce tingle of energy surged through her veins as their eyes met. She felt so drawn to him that the thought of staying away repulsed her. She took a step, thoughts of touching him, kissing him, flooding her mind.

  Trip turned his gaze from her, looking to the pavement and lowering his hand. It took a moment for Rysha to recover, for her brain to start working again. She looked down at the chapaharii sword, its blade still dark. No thoughts of hunting and slaying dragon-blooded individuals pushed into her mind.

  “Trip,” she blurted. “It worked.”

  He looked back at her, and he was his normal self, that alien—dragonly—aura she’d glimpsed a few times before once again tamped down.

  Rysha leaned the sword against the side of the flier and rushed to Trip. “It worked,” she repeated. “Do you know what this means?”

  She flung her arms around him before thinking of military decorum and whether it was appropriate to hug him here. She grinned and kissed him on the cheek.

  Trip’s eyebrows rose, and he lifted his hands, resting them on her waist. “I…”

  He didn’t know what to say? He ought to be elated, just as she was. Now, they could walk side by side together and face their enemies without worrying about those enemies forcing them to turn on each other. And she could sit behind him in his flier. Maybe leaning forward now and then to play with his short hair, pushing her fingers through it and rubbing his warm scalp.

  “We could go on that walk along the harbor now,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper. The words came ou
t a little tentatively.

  Even though his hands were on her waist, he seemed wary. Rysha almost wished she’d kissed him when he’d been Confident Trip, power crackling in the air around him. She felt certain he would have kissed her back then, would have pulled her against him without hesitation. But, she reminded herself, it was the quiet, awkward Trip that her mind had always been drawn to, and that deep down, she worried might disappear one day.

  “I’d like that,” Trip said, smiling. “You could leave your pointy friend at home, and we wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

  “That seems reasonable. You don’t take guard swords on dates, right?”

  “I wouldn’t think so. I haven’t seen the instructions that came with it.”

  “There were no instructions. Hence my ongoing problems. Maybe I should make a pamphlet for future wielders. A nice meaty set of directions and useful information. With a glossary of Old Iskandian terms. A table of contents to make it easy to search. Oh, and I could put all manner of relevant material in the appendices. I love appendices. By the time I’m done, it could be just like the technical manual for your flier.”

  “The technical manual that’s five hundred pages thick?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Your eyes are gleaming.”

  Rysha grinned and leaned into him. “Observant of you to notice.”

  Trip lowered his mouth toward hers, and anticipation thrummed through her body. But before their lips touched, someone cleared her throat behind him.

  “I was wrong,” Blazer called over her shoulder to someone. “Ravenwood will be sharing her bunk with two dragons and a pilot.”

  Trip’s cheeks reddened, and he dropped his hands and stepped back.

  “I’m not sure we have rooms large enough for all that in Charkolt,” Captain Vapors said. A freckled officer about Rysha’s age, he now stood next to Blazer. And Kaika. And Leftie. Seven gods, when had they all sneaked around the fliers? And how long ago had they done it? “We’re not the huge metropolis the capital is,” Vapors added.

  “You don’t cater to freakish sexual practices?” Blazer asked.

  “Sleeping with dragons isn’t that freakish,” Kaika murmured. “Assuming they shape-shift into humans.”

  “This conversation has gotten far too strange for my simple mind. This way, officers.” Vapors waved and led the way toward the hangar.

  Trip hung back, so Rysha picked up Dorfindral and waited for him to start walking before falling in at his side. Aware of the snickers and backward glances, she didn’t walk closely at his side. His cheeks were still red; she felt chagrined too. What had she been thinking? She was a professional, not some horny girl who couldn’t keep her paws off a man in public places.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “That we didn’t get to finish?”

  She snorted. Yes. “That I didn’t wait for a less public place to fling my arms around you. I was just delighted that it worked. I wish I’d figured that out earlier.”

  “Hm.” His features grew guarded.

  “Why aren’t you as delighted as I am?”

  “I just… I don’t want any power over you, Rysha. Or your sword. And I suspect that when you have time to consider it, you’ll realize you don’t want that, either. You want to control your own destiny, I’m certain.”

  “I wouldn’t have joined the army if I expected to have any control over my destiny,” she said, though she had to admit that his words rang true. She’d resented it when he’d stopped her by breaking her spectacles with his mind, by knowing her weakness and exploiting it. It wasn’t as if it was a hidden weakness, but it had still felt like a betrayal. Was this so different? She’d be the hand wielding the sword, but would she come to resent it if she knew that he was the one with the ultimate power to control it? “As far as Dorfindral goes, I’d rather you be able to control it than some Cofah enemy.”

  “So, I’d be the lesser of two evils?”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “What happens when a dragon knows the words and uses them? Sardelle said that happened. A dragon’s power would override mine, and then you’d still be in the same situation.”

  Rysha’s shoulders slumped. “You’re stealing my delight, Trip.”

  “I’m sorry.” He lifted an arm, as if he might wrap it around her shoulders, but they were entering the hangar, and there were even more officers inside. He lowered his hand. “You can still write a technical manual, if it’ll make you happy.”

  She snorted. “Would you read it if I did?”

  “Every word.”

  “Did you read the flier technical manual?”

  “Every word.”

  She squinted at him, trying to decide if he was pulling her leg. But he appeared earnest. Well, he was an engineer. Maybe manuals excited him as much as glossaries and appendices excited her.

  Trip stopped so abruptly Rysha thought he’d forgotten something in his flier. But he looked down at Dorfindral, not back out the door. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach for it, and she almost stepped away so he wouldn’t succeed. The chapaharii weapons zapped those dragon-blooded souls who attempted to touch them.

  Trip must have remembered on his own because he closed his fist and brought it to his mouth. “I’m having an idea.”

  “Is it an interesting one?”

  “I hope so. Look, those weapons are thousands of years old, and I know we’ve lost a lot of the lore from the time period.”

  “Such as technical manuals,” Rysha said.

  “Precisely. If they existed, they’re gone, right?”

  “As far as I’ve been able to determine. A book the Referatu had is the best resource I’ve heard of, and that was just a list of command words and a bit on the history.”

  “Someone created those swords at one time, and someone programmed the weapons so that those particular words affected them.”

  “Programmed?”

  “Like a loom or a mechanical construct being given a punch card full of operational instructions,” Trip said.

  “Right, I understand, but I imagined there being some kind of magical… imbuing.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it was all magical, but what I’m saying is that someone had to do it. Why couldn’t someone today change the control words to something specific to that sword?” Trip pointed at Dorfindral, then lowered his voice. “To something only you know. Or at least to something written down and stuck in the sword’s storage box so that only the current wielder knows them.”

  “That’s quite an appealing scenario,” Rysha said, warming to the idea right away. If she alone knew the words that Dorfindral responded to, she wouldn’t have to worry about a mage or dragon using them. Assuming she could keep from thinking about them if someone was telepathically reading her mind. Even then, it was better than using commands that had been in books for thousands of years, books that any number of people had doubtless read over the centuries. “I don’t suppose you know how to do it?”

  Trip smiled lopsidedly. “You’d be surprised at how little I know about magic right now. Sardelle gave me a workbook so I’d have a way to practice while I’m away. It’s a copy of one she originally made for ten-year-old students. I looked at the first sheet, where you’re supposed to move these fish inked on the page to the other side of the page, and I have no idea how to do it.”

  “You have to start somewhere.”

  “So I’m told. I’ll consult with Jaxi and Azarwrath on my punch-card programming idea.”

  “When do we leave, Trip?” Duck called from a group of Wolf Squadron and Cougar Squadron officers standing around the desk by the hangar door.

  “What?” Trip had been gazing thoughtfully at Dorfindral.

  “To visit your grandparents. Didn’t you mention that your grammy is a good cook?” Duck rubbed his belly. “After flying all day, I’m hungrier than a bear after winter hibernation.”

  Blazer and Kaika nodded and smiled agreeably. Even Leftie’s expression gre
w wistful. Only Dreyak seemed indifferent to dinner. He said something to Blazer, then walked toward the exit. Maybe this was as far as he would travel with their group. Rysha couldn’t imagine what he wanted in Charkolt.

  “I didn’t warn my grandparents that I was coming,” Trip said. “Or that was I showing up with a bunch of soldiers to feed.”

  “That was rude of you,” Kaika said. “You better apologize when we arrive.” She pointed to the door, making it clear he should lead the way.

  “Somehow,” Trip said, heading for the door, “I don’t feel like my lot in the army has changed much since I got promoted from lieutenant to captain.”

  Rysha walked at his side. “Given all the other things that have happened since then, aren’t you glad about that?”

  Trip chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Actually, maybe so. Things have seemed more normal today than last week.” He waved vaguely in the direction of the south pole. “Maybe Leftie will start talking to me again,” he added, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

  His morose expression made Rysha want to wrap an arm around his shoulders. But with the others trotting to catch up with them, she refrained.

  4

  “All of them?” Grammy asked after she and Grampy hugged Trip, exclaimed their delight at seeing him, and heard him apologetically say he’d invited his teammates to dinner.

  Technically, he hadn’t invited them, but he well remembered the quality of the mess hall food on Charkolt Base, so he couldn’t blame them for wanting to avoid it. There were eating houses in town, of course, but he was encouraged that they’d wanted to dine with him. Maybe, as Jaxi had suggested, he’d been overly sensitive about feeling like an outcast. Maybe they just needed time to get used to the revelations about him.

  My words are wise and usually correct, Jaxi said.

  Also modest.

  False modesty is insincere and irritating. When you’re fabulous, there’s nothing wrong with letting the world know you’re fabulous.

  “We don’t mind waiting,” Trip said. “I can help you cut vegetables if you want.”