Also concerned about staying behind protection, Rysha sprinted to keep up with them. Bullets continued to skip off the rocks all around them, and her instincts told her to flee the other way instead of closing, but she didn’t obey them.
The shadows lay thick below the towering pines in the forest, and Rysha couldn’t see their pirate ambushers until they were almost among them. Finally, as they ran under the canopy, her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting, and she spotted men leaning out from behind trees. At least six of them. But there were twelve, she remembered.
She also remembered Trip saying Jaxi’s barrier had to be lowered if their team was to fire back. Though she feared not being within its protection, Rysha let herself fall back to take a position behind a redwood tree so broad two or three of them could have hidden behind it. But she didn’t intend to hide, merely use it for cover while she fired at their enemies.
A strange sensation, as if she’d walked through a thick soap bubble, came over her, and she realized Jaxi’s barrier must have shifted to surround the group. It didn’t matter for her now.
“You’re on your own,” she whispered to herself and leaned out from behind the tree, exposing as little of her body as possible as she looked for the likeliest target and also tried to identify where all twelve of the pirates were.
Dreyak roared and flung himself at two men charging out from behind a tree and running at him with cutlasses raised. They must have given up on firing at him.
Kaika dropped to a knee behind a log and used it to fire over.
“You’re out from behind the barrier,” Trip called. “All of you.”
Dreyak bowled one pirate over and slashed at the other, his scimitar whipping toward the man’s neck. Kaika fired at a man firing at her from behind a tree. As Dreyak rolled behind a boulder and took cover, Rysha spotted someone else aiming at Kaika, someone who had a good angle to strike her.
She swallowed, tried to still her breathing enough that it wouldn’t affect her aim, and fired a split second before he did. Most of his head hadn’t been visible to her, but she’d seen his pistol and the hand holding it. Her bullet slammed into the back of that hand. He yelped and jerked back out of sight.
Trip, the only one who wasn’t under cover, at least not visible cover, drew the attention of their enemies. He stood with his weapons in hand, but lowered, as if he wasn’t sure yet what he should do. That made him an easy target, and no less than four men started shooting at him.
Rysha sucked in an alarmed breath, but the bullets bounced away before they struck him. Jaxi’s barrier was still up, at least for him. He gazed toward two of his assailants, two men using the same large cedar for cover.
Rysha aimed at the one closest to her—part of his butt and shoulder were visible. But before she could fire, Trip ran at them, the soulblade held aloft.
A fiery glow burst forth from the sword. One of the men in his path stumbled back from the tree, his face coming into Rysha’s view, his eyes wide. His buddy reached for him, as if to pull him back behind cover, but Trip got there first.
Wielding the soulblade rather than using his pistol, he slashed the weapon toward the pirate with blinding speed. The sword moved so quickly, it seemed to leave an orange streak of light in the air.
The pirate tried to block, stepping in and lifting an arm, but Jaxi descended with the fury of a god, knocking aside the block and biting into the pirate’s neck. The soulblade sliced all the way down into his torso, cutting through muscle and bone as if it were warm butter.
The second pirate tried to spring at Trip, but he whirled and thrust the blade into the man’s stomach. Once again, his enemy was too slow to block.
Trip yanked the sword free and raced off to engage another pirate, heedless of the men firing at him. Nothing was hitting him.
He sprang over a log, swinging the soulblade in front of him as he flew through the air. Tings sounded with each swipe, and Rysha realized he was deflecting bullets. Even though she knew Jaxi had to be guiding him, it boggled her mind that such speed and anticipation was possible.
Rysha glimpsed movement off to her left and tore her gaze from Trip. A pirate was trying to sneak up on her.
Cursing, she eased around the back side of her tree to avoid his line of sight, hoping she wasn’t exposing herself to someone else as she did so. The man fired, and bark splintered and flew free. She crouched on the other side of the tree, debating whether to try and outmaneuver him at this game or to stay put. Three pirates lay dead around Dreyak, their blood exposed to sunsets, and he was trying to goad a fourth into attacking. Kaika had downed two from her spot behind the log, and Trip was moving through the rest like a whirlwind.
Could Rysha simply wait for someone fiercer to handle the one shooting at her? Someone with a soulblade, perhaps?
But that was cowardly, and she knew it. Besides, that one was in a position where he could fire at any of the four of them. If Rysha did nothing, he could shoot Kaika in the back.
She dropped to one knee and started to lean out to fire, but paused and grabbed a long stick on the ground instead. She tugged her black cap off, stuck it on the end, and thrust it toward the opposite side of the redwood.
The bang of a gun came immediately, tearing the cap from the stick. She leaned out on the opposite side, hoping it would take the pirate a couple of seconds to realize it had been a ruse. He fired again, not at her, but toward the spot where her cap had been.
She spotted his hand, pistol, and part of his jaw. Choosing the hand for her target again, she fired. And nailed him. The pirate cried out, dropping his weapon.
She assumed him out of the battle, but he charged around the tree and ran straight toward her, his cutlass raised in his left hand. Fury burned in his dark eyes as he sprinted toward her.
Forcing herself to remain calm, Rysha aimed at his chest and fired. Only to hear the soft click of the hammer falling on an empty chamber. She hadn’t been counting her rounds. She was out of ammo.
Though she had more in her ammo pouch, there wasn’t time to reload. Only a few feet away, the pirate sprang toward her, his cutlass swiping for the top of her head.
Rysha jerked her rifle up with both hands, holding it horizontally above her. The cutlass slammed into the barrel, the screech deafening as metal scraped along metal, her joints aching under the power of the blow. While his arm was up, she stepped backward to give herself enough room to slam a kick into his abdomen.
He twisted when he saw the boot coming, but not fast enough. She caught enough of him to make him stumble back. But he recovered quickly, growling and raising the cutlass to run in for another attack.
She braced herself, intending to block again with her rifle, if she could, but he looked past her shoulder. His eyes bulged, and he shifted his cutlass, raising it in a block.
Trip leaped past Rysha and brought the soulblade down like an axe. It sliced through the cutlass instead of knocking it aside. And it sliced through the pirate too.
Rysha grimaced and looked away. The man died instantly, but it wasn’t a pretty sight.
Trip’s eyes burned with an intensity that alarmed her—and surprised her. She would have expected it from their bloodthirsty Cofah, but Trip had been so mild-mannered around her so far. The savage joy on his face as he tore his blade free left her uneasy. She’d seen similar expressions on the faces of comrades engaged in sporting competitions, but this wasn’t sport. This was killing.
She started back behind the tree, figuring more enemies would be ready to fire, but silence replaced the chaotic noise of the battle. She could hear Trip’s heavy breathing as he lowered the soulblade and searched around for more enemies. She also heard the roar of the ocean drifting up to them, but little else. It slowly dawned on her that nobody else was going to shoot at them.
She looked at Trip warily, wanting to thank him for his help, but her tongue fumbled when she saw the blood spattering his face and his brown jacket. He looked like an executioner, which was exactly what he’d
been, rather than the quiet, somewhat awkward officer who’d flown her to her family’s home.
But the savage expression of a few seconds ago was fading, something of the calm, rational man returning. When he met her eyes, she read wariness in his, and she wondered if he’d seen her concern regarding him. She did her best to smooth her face and her feelings. This was the same person. He’d simply been using—or being used by—a soulblade, a powerful magical sword.
“Thanks, Trip,” she said. “I made a rookie mistake, not counting my rounds.”
He offered a lopsided smile. “I know all about rookie mistakes.”
“We all alive?” Kaika asked, brushing herself off as she rose from her log. “Injuries?”
“I’m fine,” Rysha said. “Thanks to Trip.”
Even if Jaxi had been responsible for that display, she wanted to give him credit. Perhaps because of his youth or just that he was new to Wolf Squadron, nobody seemed to give him much respect.
“I’m also uninjured,” Trip said.
Dreyak was prowling around them, going from fallen pirate to fallen pirate. He thrust his scimitar into one, mercilessly ending the man’s life. He, too, was covered in blood, and he probably liked it. He was a far grimmer comrade than Trip.
His dark eyes shifted, looking over to meet hers, and she stepped a little closer to Trip. She told herself it was a coincidence, that the Cofah couldn’t have heard her thoughts, but it didn’t reassure her much.
Dreyak went back to checking on the pirates, killing any he found still alive. Rysha wanted to protest this treatment, even if Kaika didn’t seem to think anything of it, but leaving the men here, injured and alone in a remote forest, might not be any better. They would die from the elements or wolves or mountain lions. She didn’t think anyone on her team was a healer. What had Jaxi said? That she could cauterize wounds? Not exactly healing.
“We’re going back to check on the others, Dreyak,” Kaika called over her shoulder as she waved Trip and Rysha toward the crash site.
Dreyak looked toward the heavens, threw back his head, his bloody scimitar in one hand and his pistol in the other, and roared.
Rysha gaped at him.
“This was a good battle,” he announced, then pointed at Trip. “I did not realize we had a soulblade among us. Excellent. A powerful and useful weapon.”
“I prefer guns and explosives,” Kaika said.
Dreyak, looking at Trip, ignored her and said, “You should let me wield it, boy. Do you even know what that blade is capable of?”
“She lets me know on an hourly basis,” Trip said coolly, turning his back and walking toward the edge of the forest.
“To be a warrior and see the light die in your enemies’ eyes is the greatest gift,” Dreyak announced loudly.
Whether it was a general statement or if there was some message there for Trip, Rysha didn’t know, but she also turned her back on him and jogged to catch up with Trip. She’d had enough of this dark forest and the killing.
12
Inside the cargo hold of the airship, Trip scribbled notes and sketches in the compact notebook he kept in his flight jacket. It was for making calculations in the air, not repair notes for enemy vessels, but it was all he had. He didn’t want to try to keep everything in his head. He’d already found seven problems they would have to address, not including sealing all the holes in the envelope and cutting wood to replace the damaged sections of the envelope frame. There were massive holes in the hull, as well, and he balked at the idea of not repairing them, but reminded himself this wasn’t a sailing ship, and it didn’t have to be watertight for air flight.
“Captain Engineer,” Leftie called from outside the airship. “All we have in our repair kits are mallets. Have you tried to hammer a nail with a mallet?”
“Is that you?” Rysha asked, picking her way through the dark hold toward him, lugging a large toolbox.
“By process of elimination, taking from consideration all non-captains, it’s either me, Duck, or Kaika.” Trip closed his notebook and picked up the bundle of patches for the envelope that he’d found, along with a coil of rope that he looped over his shoulder. “I can make a hammer for you if the toolbox from here doesn’t have one,” he called to Leftie as he headed toward a huge hole in the hull large enough to walk through—they had originally entered that way.
“Dreyak could be a captain back in Cofahre.”
“Does he strike you as someone you’d approach with a mallet problem?”
“He’s not someone I would approach at all,” Rysha murmured. “I saw him painting his forehead with fresh blood from the dead pirates.”
Trip, aware of the blood now spattering his jacket, did not comment. He hadn’t intentionally painted himself with any, but he’d felt like some ancient barbarian clansman out there, swinging Jaxi like an axe. And enjoying the hells out of it.
He had experienced battle ecstasy before when mowing down pirates in his flier, and it often left him concerned once his blood cooled. Even though he’d chosen to become a soldier, he did not consider himself bloodthirsty, not someone who basked in killing people, so it was hard to accept he had a side that enjoyed it. He tried to tell himself that he simply enjoyed pitting himself against others in battle, being forced to challenge himself to thrive and survive, but when he was honest with himself, he knew that wasn’t exactly it.
“Did he fight well?” Trip asked, wondering if the Cofah warrior had lived up to his reputation.
“Yes, I think so. He took down several men. Not as many as, uh, you.”
Trip grimaced, slowing down as he reached the hole in the hull.
“That was Jaxi.” He couldn’t blame his battle savagery on her, though she hadn’t seemed to object to it, but his sudden sword-fighting ability had definitely been her doing. It had been as if a god controlled his movements, giving him skills and experience he could only dream of. “It was an extremely weird experience.”
He nodded to indicate that Rysha could go out first—that big toolbox would be useful in repairs, but it looked heavy and awkward.
But she paused to set it down. “Did she… take you over?”
“Not exactly, but she was guiding all my movements. I think I decided who to chase down. At least I remember seeing that pirate charging you and consciously choosing to try to intercept him. It is kind of a blur, though. And I remember her being—I guess bloodthirsty isn’t the right word, but she was at least as gleeful about being in battle as…” He almost said I was, but he didn’t want to admit to that side of himself to Rysha. “Our Cofah warrior,” he finished.
Rysha peered into his eyes, her face difficult to read.
Could she know what he’d almost said? Maybe she’d seen him fighting and just knew.
“You didn’t seem to mind,” she said quietly.
He wondered what lustful, crazy expression he’d worn in that battle.
“It’s not a big deal,” Rysha said. “If Iskandians didn’t have any soldiers who could kill in battle, the Cofah would have forcefully assimilated us into their empire long ago.”
It was a rational thing to say, but he wasn’t sure he believed that she felt that way. Even though she was training to enlist in the elite troops, she seemed to have a gentle soul. Maybe it was the spectacles, but she had a scholarly mien to her even when she wore fatigues and carried a rifle. He knew she’d fired at their enemies, but he didn’t think she’d shot to kill. He wondered if she would have the edge necessary to pass that training. He had a feeling Captain Kaika didn’t have much trouble slitting throats when the situation demanded it.
“I just figured it was part of why you signed on to be a pilot,” she added with a smile, though she sounded like she might be trying to convince herself. “You fellows shoot down people all the time.”
“True, but I joined because I wanted to fly, not shoot anyone down, and the military is the main road to a career doing that now.” Trip thought of the pirates he’d riddled with bullets on the airship
the week before—had that even been a week ago? He’d experienced a similar battle lust then and countless other times when he’d engaged such foes, such enemies to Iskandia, but somehow, it was different when he was in his flier, with more distance between him and the enemy. He rarely had to see his foes’ faces up close. This time, he’d looked people straight in the eye as he’d slashed the soulblade across their throats. “I did know it would involve protecting my country, and I’ve always been willing to do that.”
She gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “I’m glad. It needs protecting right now. I am a little surprised that Jaxi sounds bloodthirsty.”
“I didn’t mean to say that she was that. Just excited to go into battle, I think. It’s true she didn’t hesitate at all to guide my hands to kill.” He shrugged, not sure if that fit the definition of bloodthirsty.
Jaxi was being quiet for the moment, almost oddly so. Maybe she sensed his discomfort and was giving him space. He found it surprising that someone with such enthusiasm for battle had been paired with a healer. Maybe they complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses?
“I haven’t read a lot about soulblades,” Rysha said slowly, “but I have studied the chapaharii swords. Those aren’t intelligent, or at least not in the way soulblades are, with former people inhabiting them, but they are reputed to have strong personalities and be very singled-minded in wishing to fulfill their destiny, killing dragons and those with dragon blood. There are some command words that can order them to stand down when necessary, and warriors used to carry them their whole lives, asserting their will over the blades and working with them to great success. I imagine that if you bonded with Jaxi, you’d get more accustomed to each other and figure out each other’s boundaries.”
“Yes, I imagine so. And I can’t truly be bothered by what she helped me do out there.” Trip waved out the hole and in the direction of the forest—the body-filled forest. “I would have just stood there stupidly, trying not to get hit, if she hadn’t asserted herself. But I don’t know if I can bond with someone else’s soulblade. Once this mission is over, she’ll go back to Sardelle, and I’ll go back to my flier.” He remembered that his flier was on the bottom of the ocean. Would he be given a new one to get to know? Or would he be stuck riding rickety substitutes? A different machine for each mission, whoever’s was free?