Trip, sensing that she wasn’t close enough to aim for the pirate yet, pulled back on the flight stick for another loop, twisting as the flier soared upside down. He still hoped he might dislodge the pirate. He was flying over the beach, well east of the fortress and hundreds of feet off the ground. The fall should kill him.
But Neaminor, his muscles charged by the sword’s power, still wouldn’t fall off. Defying gravity, he retained that one-handed grip and lashed out again at Trip.
Why don’t you shoot him? Jaxi asked.
It was hard to imagine that working—the man seemed superhuman back there—but Trip promptly ripped his pistol from his holster. There was nothing magical about these bullets. If Jaxi was right…
He turned in time to see the blade slashing for his face. He ducked, forced to let go of the stick, and the wind whipped at the flier, rattling the wings. Trip popped up and fired at the man’s chest.
Even with the flier lurching wildly and flying upside down, his target was close enough that he couldn’t miss. A bullet sank into the pirate’s heart.
Pain flashed in Neaminor’s eyes, but impossibly, he did not let go. He whipped the sword toward Trip again, wild, uncontrolled slashes.
“Get down,” Blazer ordered as Trip spotted her flier coming in from the side.
“Shit,” he blurted, and did his best to drop into his boots—a difficult prospect with his harness holding him in and with gravity pulling in the opposite direction.
Machine gun fire tore through the air, drowning out the drone of the propeller. Trip was aware of his flier tipping toward the ground, wings jerking erratically without his hand on the stick.
Fortunately, his senses told him the ground was still hundreds of feet below. While those guns fired, all Trip could do was stay as deep in his seat well as possible and pray. He’d never been much for prayer, but he sent a heartfelt one to each of the seven gods now.
The gunfire stopped.
“You’re welcome, kid,” Blazer said.
Trip poked his head over the lip of his seat and grimaced at the backrest that had been lopped off. But not seeing the pirate drove away any disgruntlement he felt about the damage to his flier. He lifted his head higher, leaning over to peer into the back seat, as if the pirate might be crouching down in it, ready to spring another attack.
But it was empty.
Trip let out a relieved breath and whirled back around to grasp the flight stick. “Easy, girl,” he murmured, silently apologizing for leaving the craft without his guidance.
“The proper response is thank you,” Blazer said, lifting an arm toward him.
She’d turned her flier around, pointing it back down the beach. They’d flown east far enough that the fortress wasn’t in sight anymore. Another few seconds, and he would have flown away from the island altogether.
“Thank you, Major,” Trip said, recovering his equanimity—and getting that alarmed squeakiness out of his voice. He was certain General Zirkander never squeaked during battle.
“That’s better. Go down and get that sword, will you? You’re lucky you didn’t fly out over the ocean, or you would have been swimming for it. When you’ve got it, join me back at the fortress. That damn witch is still alive and flinging attacks at our people while the stupid dragon watches. Maybe we can use the sword on both of them.”
“Actually, I don’t think I can, ma’am.” Trip peered over the side. He hadn’t been watching to see where the pirate had landed, and if the sword was still glowing, it wasn’t doing it in a spot where he could see it.
I can sense it, Jaxi said, but you are correct. Neither you nor I can touch it. The blade won’t allow it.
“What do you mean?” Blazer asked.
“I have Jaxi with me, and she’s very magical, so I won’t be able to carry the two weapons in my flier at once.”
Blazer heaved an aggravated sigh. “Fine, I’ll find it. You go help the others.”
Subtle evasion, Jaxi told him dryly. Will there be a point at which you share with the others that I’m not the only one in this flier that those swords hate?
Not voluntarily, no.
As unobservant as mundane humans are, if you keep successfully attacking unattackable foes, someone’s bound to notice that a dragon frolicked horizontally with one of your ancestors.
Frolicked…er. Someday, you’ll have to explain how that’s even possible. Trip’s mind boggled as he imagined one of the giant dragons somehow sharing a bed with a human.
Did you ever open a book at that university of yours?
Mostly technical manuals.
The education system these days is extremely disappointing.
Never mind, Trip said, weariness from the battle sinking into his muscles as he turned the flier toward the fortress. I’ll ask Rysha how it works. She’s read all manner of books, so I’m sure she knows. Now that he thought about it, he remembered Zirkander and Sardelle talking about shape-shifting during that meeting in the general’s office. It still seemed exceedingly odd to contemplate.
“Jaxi says she would be most delighted to guide you to it,” Trip told Blazer, feeling he should get Jaxi back for her derision. “I understand she very much enjoyed the last telepathic contact she had with you.”
Jaxi sent the sword equivalent of a glower into his mind.
Blazer swore.
22
Rysha coughed and used her new sword to bat at the dust clogging the air. Its long-dead creator would have been scandalized to see it put to that purpose.
When the dust cleared, she found herself looking at a wall of solid wood. She was completely blocked in.
“Dreyak?” she yelled, worried the entire room over there had collapsed and that he was trapped. Or worse.
If he answered, she couldn’t hear it.
The blade still glowed. Did that mean the magical constructs had survived?
“If so, that would be supremely unfair.” Rysha leaned the boxes and sword against the wall so she could dig out the acid. She hoped the hallway outside wasn’t blocked.
The floor groaned and creaked under her. Had the foundation also been damaged? She’d been on the verge of making another hole in a wall, but if there was nothing but water under her, couldn’t she make a hole in the floor and jump through? She could swim away, using the boxes to help her float, and make it to the beach and eventually back to the fliers.
But that would mean leaving Dreyak. And maybe Kaika too. They were late for meeting her, so Kaika might be looking for them right now.
Rysha started smearing goo on the hallway wall, but someone thumped on it, as if knocking on a door. Startled, she froze.
Someone out there yelled. One of the pirates?
Rysha gripped the sword. It didn’t glow any brighter. That should mean the sorceress wasn’t standing on the other side of the wall.
Another yell sounded, two words.
“Get back?” Rysha guessed. A second later, their meaning registered, and she scrambled back.
An explosion ripped through the wall, and she whirled away. Shards of wood pelted her in the back. The chapaharii swords might have their perks, but they certainly weren’t soulblades that could help protect their owners. Not that a soulblade would ever join with some mundane human.
Oh, I don’t know about that, Jaxi spoke into her mind as wood shards stopped flying sideways, and instead, dust and sawdust trickled to the floor. I believe Wreltad would have bonded with Ridge if he’d wished a soulblade.
“What?” Rysha croaked, her throat coated with dust. “Who?”
Never mind. A story for later. I regret that my warning came too late, but Trip has had me quite busy. I’m pleased you are unharmed. Kaika is waiting for you in the hall.
Oh. Thanks.
“Ravenwood?” came a whisper from the hall, a shadowy figure swatting aside dust.
“Is there a point to whispering right now, ma’am?” Rysha asked.
Kaika barked a laugh. “Maybe not. Where’s our Cofah? When Jaxi
said you were back here, I thought she meant both of you.”
Rysha grabbed the boxes and the sword, and hurried through the gaping hole Kaika’s explosion had left—it was not nearly as tidy as the ones the acid could create. Mounds of debris littered the hallway floor, and Rysha stopped short when she spotted a dead man half-buried under some rubble. His throat had been slit. Another man lay dead at the base of the stairs.
“You didn’t meet me at the meeting spot,” Kaika said, as if providing an explanation for the dead pirates. Maybe she was.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
Thinking of the uniforms and skulls, Rysha reminded herself these pirates were enemies.
“I did find some swords,” she offered.
“Useful swords?” Kaika eyed the boxes.
“I believe so. Dreyak is—oh!” Rysha scrambled over debris to the door she and Dreyak had originally used. She tugged it open, and rubble spilled out. One of the wheeled constructs rolled out with the debris.
It was dented and wobbly, and Rysha wasn’t sure if it had any ammunition left, but a surge of alien hatred flowed through her. Before rational thought could come into play, she dropped the boxes and lifted the sword with both hands. It clunked against the wall behind her, but she barely noticed. She drove down with all her strength, cleaving the construct in half, just as Trip had done on the deck of the airship.
But her blade—Dorfindral, the name popped into her mind—wasn’t done. Under its guidance, she sliced downward again and again, until nothing but battered cogs and screws and scraps of metal remained.
Panting, Rysha drew back. Belatedly, she realized she should have uttered the control word that meant “stand down,” but she hadn’t expected so much emotion to flood into her, filling her with something she’d never experienced before, something akin to a battle rage. It had made it difficult to think, difficult to be rational.
“Ravenwood,” Kaika said, lowering the hand she’d been using to shield her face from flying cogs. “We need to get you to the Sensual Sage when we get back.”
“What?” The randomness of the comment startled her into forgetting to add a ma’am to her question.
“The Sensual Sage. It’s a nice brothel and tea house. We need to get you some sex. And a massage. And then more sex. You seem tense.”
“That wasn’t me. That was the sword.” Rysha glanced at the runes on the side of the blade, putting her ancient languages class to use to read its mission and its name. Slaying dragons. And Dorfindral. “Dorfindral,” she said aloud, uneasy that the magical blade had inserted its name into her mind.
“I don’t think anyone is going to massage Dorfy, nor do I want to imagine sex play involving a blade that large.”
Rysha’s mind boggled at the notion that a smaller blade might be acceptable for that, but rubble shifting in the room drew her attention.
Dreyak crawled into view on hands and knees as he navigated over the pile half-blocking the door. Blood streamed down the side of his face from multiple cuts. Weariness—and probably pain—gave an uncharacteristic slump to his shoulders.
Rysha started to lift a hand to help him, but a wave of indignation washed over her, demanding that she lift the blade again, that she attack this vile foe.
“Meyusha,” Kaika barked as she stepped in front of her. The control word for the swords that meant “stand down.”
The blade pulsed, its green glow dulling some, and Rysha was able to move back while Kaika helped Dreyak out of the room. But she felt an intensely strong distaste for him that wouldn’t go away.
“Seven gods,” Rysha whispered, “how does that Captain Ahn wield Kasandral without going crazy? And Colonel Therrik? He wields Kasandral, too, doesn’t he? I read that it’s his family’s blade.”
Another crash came from somewhere above them, and the sounds of machine gun fire filled Rysha with new concern. Were those the fliers? What had brought them over to the fortress? They weren’t fighting the dragon, were they?
“A discussion for later,” Kaika said, shooing them toward the room they’d originally entered through. “And maybe we’ll also discuss why one of those swords wants to kill our new Cofah friend.” She thumped Dreyak on the back.
He glowered at her.
Kaika jogged into the lead, looking fresh and spry as she leaped rubble piles. She threw open the next door and started to turn into the large room, but halted abruptly.
“So, that’s slightly blocked,” she said.
Rysha peered past her and nodded in agreement. Light from the hallway shone in, enough to illuminate wood, posts, beams, and broken furniture that looked to have fallen through from the floor above. Or multiple floors above.
A snap reverberated through their level, and Rysha stumbled back as another beam broke, and floor boards rained down into the hallway. If there was an exit that way, it was now blocked.
“The stairs?” Dreyak asked.
Kaika shook her head. “The battle’s going on up there.”
His dark eyes flared with some inner light, as if that one sentence had reenergized him. “Then we must go. We must defeat as many pirates as we can before leaving.”
“I’m not even sure if we can get to the top floor anymore. I came from up there.” Kaika pointed toward the ceiling. “From the meeting spot where you all were supposed to join me. It’s a mess. Several stairways are already broken. The rest of the structure could come down on our heads at any moment.”
“Is there another way off this floor then?” Dreyak looked the opposite way down the hallway.
“I’m not sure. Maybe a window or—”
“Wait.” Rysha started to hand the sword to Kaika, but found herself reluctant to let anyone else touch it. Instead, she rested the tip on the floor and leaned the hilt against her hip while she dug out her jar. “Let’s go down.”
She found a relatively bare spot, swept dirt aside, and brushed a circle with the applicator. She was nearing the end of the jar, and applying the substance took longer than before. More beams snapped somewhere above them, and a cloud of dust rolled down the stairs.
“Tolemek needs to figure out a way to put that stuff in a tube you can squeeze,” Kaika grumbled, eyeing the ceiling.
Shouts made their way through the log walls—what remained of them—and the rubble. Rysha had no idea whether they belonged to friend or foe. They all seemed to come from outside the building, from where she wished she already was.
“Is anyone left inside?” Dreyak asked.
“The last update I got from Jaxi was that the fortress is threatening to collapse in on itself, due to a dragon crashing into it multiple times,” Kaika said. “And the pirate king and the sorceress were on a platform on the top level, doing an impressive job of fighting off all the fliers and the dragon at the same time. Jaxi also confirmed that the pirate king is wielding another dragon-slaying sword, perhaps the most powerful one in the bunch.” Kaika waved at the boxes. “He would presumably claim the best one for himself.”
“Nothing wrong with Dorfindral,” Rysha muttered, watching smoke rise from the floorboards as the acid worked. She worried there would be multiple levels of subflooring and thick beams, and that she wouldn’t have enough goo.
“Uh huh,” Kaika said. “Even though I hate to be greedy, the more of these ugly green swords we can take home, the better. Right now, we’ve got one that we’re trying to use to protect the entire country. And it’s not working.”
“Can we blow up the building?” Rysha asked, since it sounded like most people had likely gotten out, everyone except the sorceress and pirate king. “Did you get your charges set?”
“I did.”
“This is a cowardly way to destroy enemies,” Dreyak said with a frown.
“Nah, it’s a practical one,” Kaika assured him. “Especially when that sorceress is up there throwing lightning at our fliers.”
Rysha gave her a worried look. “Jaxi told you that?”
“No, I think Jaxi’s busy now, but I saw it o
ut a window.”
The circle Rysha had burned in the floor fell three inches, then stuck. She kicked at it with her boot, fearing the floor beams she’d thought of were indeed there holding it up.
The disc tipped sideways and dropped into the dark water below. There was a support beam, but it was off to one side. They could slide down past it.
“We’re free and clear,” Rysha said, as another ominous crack came from above.
“So long as the entire fortress doesn’t collapse atop us as we swim away,” Dreyak growled.
Rysha halted as an image of that flashed into her mind. The water, perhaps five feet deep under the fortress, wouldn’t provide any insulation if that did happen.
“Just hurry out,” Kaika said, nudging her. “The faster we swim clear, the less likely that is to happen.”
“Right.”
Though the image lingered in her thoughts, Rysha handed one of the sword boxes to Kaika to carry, then dropped through the hole. She landed in the tepid water, her toes brushing the pebbly bottom. Half swimming, half walking, she hurried out of the way so the others could jump down.
Light came from the west side—firelight. Numerous ships in the harbor were burning, the reflection of the flames dancing on the waves.
The east side was dark, and Rysha headed in that direction. They’d originally come in that way, and she thought they could climb back up to that field. The fliers ought to be able to land there to pick them up, assuming they’d finished their battle.
Rysha listened for sounds of the skirmish as she plowed through the water, Kaika and Dreyak right behind her. She thought she heard machine gun fire, but water filled her ears, and the waves lapping at the pilings drowned out other noises.
Kaika stopped at one of those pilings near the edge of the platform.
Rysha paused. “Captain?”
“Keep going.” Kaika waved for her and Dreyak to continue.
A shadowy lump protruded from the side of that piling. One of Kaika’s explosives? Rysha had a feeling the fortress would collapse soon whether she set off her bombs or not.