Rysha rolled inward, careful not to bump the posts supporting a railing made from rope. Grabbing her rifle, she rose to her feet. Dreyak already crouched against the wall.
She trotted to the rollup door, patting along it until she found a handle near the deck. She tugged, but wasn’t surprised to find it locked. There was a normal-sized door beside it, which was also locked.
As Rysha pulled out the jar Kaika had given her, Dreyak crouched to try the rollup door handle himself. She tamped down disgruntlement that he would assume she’d somehow checked it incorrectly. But he wasn’t just seeing if it was locked. He growled and stood up, shoulders, back, and legs heaving.
A loud crunch-snap made her wince. The lock breaking. Dreyak lifted the door, but it squealed on its rails, and he stopped with it only a couple of feet off the platform, enough for them to see that the room inside was dark. He dropped to his side, rolled under door, and disappeared from sight.
Grumbling under her breath about making noise, Rysha crawled under it after him.
As soon as she cleared it, Dreyak brought the door down with more squeals. They sounded thunderous to Rysha’s ears, and she expected guards to come charging into the room at any second. She did hear voices through the door, from the direction of the docks.
“The patrol heard some noise,” Dreyak said. “They’re coming to investigate.”
“Where they’ll be sure to notice that someone forced their door open.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. They wouldn’t have missed a gaping hole in it with steaming acid dripping from the edges. Follow. The door is this way.”
Rysha thought about pointing out that she was leading, but she had no idea where the door was. How did he? It was darker than pitch in here. Kaika’s informant hadn’t been that specific, nor had Dreyak been there to hear his words.
Uneasily, she walked through an open area, holding her rifle low and in front of her so she wouldn’t trip. It bumped against something. Crates or other equipment stacked to one side. Or the wall. She realized she had veered left instead of going straight ahead.
“Over here,” Dreyak whispered from the wall she’d meant to angle toward.
“See anything?” someone hollered outside.
“No, but I’m still looking. Get patient, will you?”
“I don’t get paid enough for patience.”
Rysha followed Dreyak’s voice, still using her rifle to test the route ahead of her. She bumped something—him?
“Normally, when an Iskandian jabs a rifle in my ass, I consider it an act of war.”
She pointed her rifle to the floor. “What do you consider it now?”
“Ineptitude.”
“I’m sorry I can’t see in the dark, like you apparently can,” Rysha snapped, then added, “Did you tell Angulus you’re a sorcerer as well as a warrior?” Perhaps she shouldn’t have voiced that question, especially if he was hiding it.
“No.” He sounded surprised and offended. “I am not.”
“Uh huh. You better let me or Kaika carry the chapaharii sword when we find it. They don’t like sorcerers.”
“I’m not a sorcerer. You’re wasting time. Come.”
He pushed open the door to an inner hallway lit with wall-mounted lamps. Or rather, log-mounted lamps. The interior featured the same log walls as the exterior.
They had the option to go left or right or up a wide staircase straight ahead. Voices drifted down from that direction, too muffled to make out, but nobody sounded alarmed yet.
“The storage area for their valuables is supposed to be that way.” Rysha pointed to their left and started to take the lead. “Let’s check there before looking for the pirate king. Given the vastness of his weapons collection, it’s possible he has more than one chapaharii blade.”
She hadn’t mentioned it to the others, because she hadn’t wanted anyone to count on it, but Neaminor reputedly favored antiques of all sorts from the First Dragon Era, so she deemed it likely that he had multiple chapaharii tools. It would make the mission easier if they could simply remove one from his vault instead of facing him in battle.
Dreyak jogged past her, almost knocking her aside with his broad shoulders as he took the lead.
She glowered at his back. Maybe she wouldn’t mourn much if a chapaharii sword did decide to pick on him.
“This it?” He stopped in front of a solid wood door with three locks on it in addition to the lock on the knob.
“Yes.”
Dreyak considered the sturdy door and the sturdier locks. “Use the acid.”
Still irritated that he was trying to take command, she glared at him and said, “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”
Her sarcasm didn’t keep her from grabbing the jar and sliding the applicator brush off the bottom.
He frowned at her. “You’re lippy for a lieutenant. One usually only expects that from the pilots. I hear General Zirkander encourages his people to mouth off.”
“I doubt that’s true,” Rysha said, smearing goo between the doorknob and the jamb, assuming the locking mechanism would be behind that spot. “As for the rest, I’m only lippy to men who think they’re my superior officers and aren’t. And also aren’t in charge of the mission.” The door smoked as the acid ate into the wood, and she applied the substance to the other locks. “If you try to do something like stealing the sword before I can get it, I’ll spatter you with goo.”
His nostrils flared. “I do not steal. My people have many of these swords already. I am only here to assist with closing that portal.”
“Why didn’t your people send their own team to close the portal? And for that matter, why didn’t you bring a chapaharii sword with you, if you’ve got so many?”
He took a break from glaring at her to look up and down the hallway. A thud came from the level above.
“My people have not yet been able to deduce the location of the portal,” he said, “and your king would not share the information, even though it should not matter who destroys it, so long as it is destroyed. Since I had been given this duty by my people, I had no choice but to join your team.”
Rysha brushed more goo on the metal locking apparatus that had been revealed as the wood burned away. She wagered Angulus hadn’t shared the location of the portal because he hadn’t been certain about it. They still weren’t certain. “And you didn’t think to bring a chapaharii sword along?”
Dreyak hesitated. “Even though there are many in Cofahre, only two have been located, and they are being used in the defense of the palace and the capital city. They could not be spared. As is, I understand, the case with the one Iskandia claims.”
He grabbed the knob, looking like he intended to force the locks if they hadn’t yet broken. But he paused, scowling at the door. Or through it.
“There is magic in that room.”
“The sorceress? Or some magical artifacts? And you know that only someone with dragon blood could sense such things, right?”
“Magical devices,” Dreyak said, ignoring the last question. “I do not know if they are artifacts or are new and in use.”
“Security for the valuables?” Rysha thought of the airborne constructs that had attacked the airship.
“Security, or perhaps alarms that can be tripped to alert the sorceress that someone has entered the room.”
“Is it her room? I thought this was the pirate king’s loot.”
“They sound like a team.” Dreyak lifted his hand from the door. “Is there another way in? Maybe we could use your acid on the wall next to this one.”
“We don’t have a lot of time before we’re supposed to meet Kaika, Dreyak. Ideally, with a chapaharii sword already in hand. Would it really matter if we avoided the door?” Rysha imagined that booby traps or alarms would go off no matter how they entered the room. If they were magical, they couldn’t be so crude as a tripwire strung across the doorway.
“I don’t know, but we risk being discovered by going in here.”
“If the pirat
e king comes down, with his chapaharii blade in his hand, you can battle him and retrieve it. Makes it simpler than finding his bedroom.”
“Simpler.” Dreyak snorted. “What if the sorceress comes down too? Will you handle her while I battle the pirate?”
“If I have to, I’ll throw myself at her feet and trip her.”
He snorted again. “That seems in line with your abilities.”
Rysha fumed silently at him, wondering what she’d done to earn such a poor assessment from him. Or did he think all women were too inept for battle? She knew the Cofah didn’t allow female soldiers in their army, but some of their dragon riders of old had been women, sorceresses sailing into battle with soulblades and magic in their hands.
“Enough,” she said. “We’re wasting time, and you’re not in charge. And it’s clear why; you’re probably the nuttiest person on the island. I’ve only spent fifteen minutes alone with you, but I’m certain of my assessment.” She waved for him to open the door.
He frowned over at her. “You believe a man who calls himself the pirate king is saner than I am?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t had fifteen minutes with him yet.”
“That’ll likely happen if alarms go off,” he grumbled.
A door banged on their level. “We’ve got a problem,” someone yelled. “Where’s the boss?”
Rysha couldn’t make out the words of whoever responded, but footsteps thundered in their direction.
Dreyak cursed under his breath and shoved the door open with his shoulder.
Orange light flared to life as soon as he walked in, Rysha right on his heels. She lunged to catch one of the pieces of broken lock that fell as the door opened, but jerked her hand back at the last second, remembering Kaika’s warning about touching the acid. She winced at the clunk it made landing on the floor, but all she could do was kick the piece inside with them as Dreyak shut the door.
More voices sounded on the level above and at the end of their hallway. It wouldn’t be long before someone located them. As Rysha turned to face the room, her shoulders slumped at the realization that there wouldn’t be time to do a thorough search for a specific sword.
Crates, baskets, barrels, bins, and sacks were stacked in haphazard piles all over the place, many rising to the ceiling. Someone had left a few winding aisles through the mess—it looked like some dragon’s legendary treasure hoard—but she couldn’t even see the back or side walls through the clutter. All she could do was peer about, looking for a weapons area among paraphernalia that ranged from Iskandian flier power crystals to artwork and statues to gaudy gem-encrusted figurines of the gods.
“That light is magical,” Dreyak said, taking up a position by the door, his pistol in one hand and his scimitar in the other.
“Is that what you sensed?”
“I don’t think so.”
Too bad.
When she realized Dreyak meant to guard the door and leave the searching to her, Rysha crept forward, watching her step, just in case there was a tripwire. She spotted a few ornate swords and axes from the Invasion Era, along with old flintlock muskets with silver inlaid on the barrels. But she didn’t see any weapons from the First Dragon Era, mundane or otherwise. In fact, she didn’t see anything that had extreme value.
“I think this is an overflow room,” Rysha said. “Kaika’s informant mentioned a vault.”
A gunshot fired somewhere outside. Rysha winced. Kaika? She couldn’t imagine who else would have drawn the pirates’ ire. Had she been caught laying her explosives?
Feeling the press of time, Rysha scrambled up to the top of one of the higher treasure piles so she could see all walls and corners of the room. Some held shelves, some artwork, and one the wheel off an ancient sailing ship. Not only was there not a stash of swords anywhere, but she grew more certain that this wasn’t the best of the pirate king’s loot.
She scrutinized the walls again, this time looking for signs of secret doors. She didn’t see any creases or breaks in the logs, but as she looked at the wall to the left of the door, she realized it was closer than it should have been, given the size of the room with the rollup door and how far she and Dreyak had walked in the hallway.
She scampered down, finding an aisle that led to it. A strange zing went up her leg right as she reached it, and she froze.
“Uh oh,” she said.
“You triggered one of the alarms,” Dreyak said with a sigh. “There’s a commotion outside. I believe Captain Kaika may be doing something. Let us hope it means their sorceress does not come directly here.”
“Maybe this is a sign that I’m close to the valuable stuff.” Rysha ran her hands over the log walls, sliding her fingers along the mortar between them. Would there be a button or lever somewhere? Or would some magical word be required for entrance?
That seemed unlikely. This was the pirate king’s treasure, supposedly, and not the sorceress’s. Even if they were sleeping with each other, would the pirate trust her fully and put the access to his loot solely in her hands?
Faint clinks came from behind Rysha.
She spun as a contraption on four wheels rolled into view, coming over one of the treasure piles. Another turned a corner to roll down her aisle. They had gun barrels, similar to the flying constructs Trip had battled, and she suspected the same hand had created them. The same magical hand.
“Dreyak,” Rysha said, crouching to spring aside if needed. She had her rifle, but she didn’t want to fire and alert the entire fort to their location. She also doubted mundane weapons would destroy these constructs if they were as much magical as clockwork.
A faint click came from one, the noise sounding much like a bullet chambering.
Rysha sprang up and to the right, scrambling over bolts of silk and bags of spices that gave off a strong aroma as she crushed them. The closest construct fired its twin barrels, and bullets slammed into the log wall. Rysha grimaced at the noise. It hadn’t been as loud as her own rifle would be, but anyone nearby would hear the reports.
Dreyak jumped into view, landing in the aisle behind the construct. The other one had paused on the ridge of its treasure pile.
From the top of the silk and spice stack, Rysha could aim at it over Dreyak’s head. Deciding being quiet no longer mattered, she fired. Her bullet struck the machine but bounced off without damaging it.
Below her, Dreyak tried to slice into the closest one with his scimitar. The weapon bounced off hard enough that Dreyak winced, probably feeling the jolt in his joints. He roared fiercely and kicked the contraption. He might as well have kicked something cemented to the floor. It did not move, and once again, his face screwed up with pain.
It seemed ridiculous that some knee-high toy could give them such trouble, but Rysha had no idea how to thwart them. The one on the opposite pile aimed at her. She rolled to the side, putting as much junk between it and her as she could.
It didn’t fire, perhaps knowing she was behind cover. That much intelligence from a little automaton scared Rysha.
Dreyak cursed again, the noise followed by a thump and the clatter of silverware skidding down a pile. Shots fired. Though she couldn’t see him, Rysha suspected he’d also had to leap aside to avoid being hit.
Whirs sounded as both constructs changed positions, coming to find their targets.
“Can you lead them away, Dreyak?” Rysha tugged out the jar of acid.
“We should abort the mission, or at least this aspect of it. I’d rather battle men and try to find the pirate king, take the sword right out of his hand.”
Since he couldn’t even defeat these small contraptions, Rysha doubted that battle would go the way Dreyak thought.
“Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion. Just lead them away. I’m going to burn a hole through this wall.”
Dreyak cursed her ancestors—sometimes, it was a shame that Iskandia and Cofahre shared the same language, and she could understand all his curses. But as he did so, more junk clattered to the ground. Sh
e hoped that meant he was leading the constructs away.
Rysha made her way to the wall, wondering if the acid would be strong enough to eat through logs that might have been enhanced with magic.
The hallway door swung open. “They’re in there,” someone blurted.
Rysha groaned to herself. She wasn’t going to have time.
Guns fired. The constructs.
Someone in the hallway laughed. “I think the witch’s security is going to take care of them.”
“Shut the door then. We’ve got a bigger problem to deal with right now.”
Bigger problem? Rysha arched her eyebrows, not sure whether she and Dreyak had been delivered a piece of luck, or if things were about to get worse.
She smeared acid on the wall, determined to do her best to complete her mission, no matter what was coming. Sweat dripped down the sides of her face even though Dreyak was the one running around the room, drawing fire. From all the guns cracking, Rysha feared more constructs may have come to life.
Lieutenant Ravenwood? a voice spoke into her mind.
Rysha almost dropped the applicator. Who was that? The sorceress?
This is Jaxi. An enemy sorceress wouldn’t likely address you by name. “Puny mundane,” or “Pretentious infidel” would be more typical.
I’ll keep that in mind. Rysha continued applying the acid, trying to burn an opening large enough for her to crawl through.
I’ve already informed Captain Kaika, but I understand you aren’t with her. She says you’re late, by the way, but perhaps of greater importance, you should know that a dragon is almost upon your position. And it’s possible it wants to take revenge on the pirate king. By destroying his fortress.
20
Trip flew straight toward the fortress, fantasizing about zipping in and rescuing Rysha and the others from a horrific dragon attack, perhaps while shooting relentlessly and effectively at the dragon.
That is a fantasy, Jaxi said.
Unless I can somehow manage to force the dragon to lower his defenses. Trip wished he knew how he’d done that last time, and if he truly had.