The locomotive had oversized metal wheels that clunked and ground noisily over the rough terrain, but thus far, it had handled the task of gathering the fliers. It looked somewhat ludicrous trundling across the dirt with the winged craft rolling behind it, attached by tow chains, but all that mattered was that it got the fliers back to the coast where the power crystals should once again work.
Trip had used almost every scrap of metal in Agarrenon Shivar’s lair, including pieces torn from the constructs that had attacked them, to create the locomotive, chains, and tow hooks. He’d reserved some to create the wagon now loaded with two dozen miniature stasis chambers. A blanket tied across the top protected them from the sun. Trip was hauling the wagon himself, carefully. He had no idea how well magical devices that hadn’t moved for over three thousand years would deal with travel.
Thousands of years. Trip’s mind still boggled at the idea that he’d come out of one of the stasis chambers, that his mother hadn’t been his true mother, and that he wasn’t related to his grandparents at all, not by blood. How would he explain that to them? Or should he explain it to them? And what about all the babies?
He hoped Sardelle would know what to do. There were eight half-human babies, with the rest being animals of various types. Animals and lizards. Trip couldn’t drop half-dragon animals off at the zoo.
His brain hurt. For so many reasons. He couldn’t articulate them all.
The only good thing to come out of this last week—this last several weeks—was that Rysha now came over to stand beside him and supportively touch his hand while sneaking shy glances at him that suggested she had bedroom thoughts in mind. Even if they’d only shared a cave thus far, not a bedroom. He hoped the next time they enjoyed each other’s company, it would involve more cushioning. Pillows, perhaps.
“I keep waiting for that thing to blow up,” Blazer grumbled, smoke wafting from her cigar as she watched the locomotive.
“Your faith in my engineering skills isn’t heartening,” Trip said.
“It’s the fact that you didn’t use any tools to make it.”
“I did too.” Trip pulled out his pocket toolkit, complete with a tiny hammer, pliers, screwdriver, and foldable ruler. Admittedly, he had only used the ruler for measuring. For the rest, he’d relied upon the same magic he’d employed on the fish toy to shape and meld the scraps of bronze and iron into these creations. Other magic might not come so easily to him, but with anything that had to do with repairing or building something, it was almost as if the metal wished to comply with him, that it was eager to bend into the shapes he wanted. And he found it peaceful and relaxing to work with it. If only people were so simple to work with and understand.
“I’m so reassured,” Blazer said.
“Trip can do amazing things without any tools at all.” Rysha patted him on the back.
“Yes,” Kaika said, “the warm flush to your cheeks every time you look at him lets us all know that.”
Blazer snorted and nodded. Leftie and Duck looked at each other, appearing more confused than knowing.
Rysha’s cheeks turned a scorching red. Trip felt his own cheeks heat, mostly because he’d thought they’d been discreet, aside from their late arrival to battle the pond flowers that one morning. Since then, he and Rysha had stolen away for a few kisses, but Trip and the soulblades had been too busy carting metal scraps out of the mountain and building their temporary vehicles for him to contemplate doing more. Further, Duck, Leftie, and Blazer had been right beside him most of the time, hauling metal and assisting with the construction in any way they could.
Blazer, in particular, had made it clear that she wanted to get out of “this freak-infested place” and back home to her normal life of shooting things from the comfort of her flier. She also wanted to hurry back with the chapaharii blades Trip had helped recover from under the rubble. King Angulus wouldn’t get the assistance of a dragon out of this mission, but at least he was getting more anti-magic weapons, along with that ingot of tainted iron to experiment on. Perhaps the scientist, Deathmaker, would find it useful.
Kaika thumped Rysha on the back. “I am pleased to know our dragonling is a better lover than we expected. Though I suppose you don’t have much of a basis for comparison. Perhaps we should all take that trip to the Sensual Sage when we get back. To broaden your horizons.” She waved her hand to include Rysha, Trip, Leftie, Blazer, and Duck.
“Pass,” Blazer said.
“What do you mean all?” Duck asked, his expression somewhere between intrigued and mortified.
“There are group rooms,” Kaika said. “With private heated pools. The Captivating Cavern has a bed big enough for six. I’ve heard.”
“Nobody’s going to any more caverns,” Blazer said. “Captivating or otherwise. We’re splitting up as soon as we get out of this magic dead zone.”
“Splitting up, ma’am?” Rysha asked.
“Unless Trip wants to build us an airship from driftwood, we don’t have any way to get those baby boxes—” she waved at the wagon, “—back to the capital. They’re not going to fit in our fliers, even if Dreyak isn’t waiting and expecting a ride back. There are way too many to stow in the spare seats. So, while Wolf Squadron flies back to report in—and let’s hope the capital isn’t in trouble dealing with all those portal dragons at this very moment—someone’s going to have to take the babies to the city here and find a boat that’ll take them back to Iskandia. A boat or an airship, if any of them are allowed to land here without being blown out of the sky. After that, hells, I don’t know what the king will want to do with them. That’s above my pay grade.”
Trip bristled at the thought of something being done with them or their fate being up to a king he barely knew. He had no idea what the right thing was to do with his unorthodox siblings, but he vowed they wouldn’t be stuck in some orphanage. Or worse.
The king won’t try to hide them away somewhere, will he, Jaxi? Trip asked.
I’d be more concerned about him wanting them to be raised so they become assets to Iskandia.
Better that than a detriment to your country, Azarwrath said.
Indeed, we wouldn’t want them to randomly decide people from Cofahre are appealing, Jaxi said.
Azarwrath sighed dramatically into Trip’s mind. Telryn, I do look forward to you returning this female soulblade to her owner. Though it does seem that would be a punishment to her handler.
Sardelle finds me a delightful, wise, and irreplaceable partner.
I have not heard her say these things.
You’ve barely met her.
Trip cleared his mental throat. Wouldn’t it be possible for the babies to be raised to just be people? Not assets? Maybe they’ll want to be flier pilots. Or hookball athletes. Or dancers or engineers or painters or plumbers. Not for the first time, he wondered if he should be the one to raise them, but the idea of suddenly being a father to eight children, none more than a year old, terrified him. He couldn’t be a soldier and raise eight children at the same time, not by himself. And it was far too soon to think of asking Rysha to be a wife and mother. Besides, she wanted her own military career.
A half-dragon plumber? Jaxi asked. You definitely shouldn’t be allowed to raise children.
Better a plumber than some ambitious megalomaniac with the power to conquer nations, Azarwrath put in.
That was what truly terrified Trip. That if he did have a hand in raising them, he would screw up, and his siblings would grow up to cause trouble for Iskandia, maybe for the entire world.
If it makes you feel better, Jaxi said, judging by the way Bhrava Saruth has been seducing nubile young women all across Iskandia, little dragonlings are going to be all over before long. Your future plumbers may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
That did not make Trip feel better.
Welcome to the Second Dragon Era, Azarwrath murmured.
You mean dragonling era, don’t you? Jaxi asked.
Both, I suppose.
r /> “Could you make an airship?” Rysha asked Trip curiously, oblivious to the conversation going on inside his head. She waved at the locomotive. “Maybe you could disassemble that for the basic parts.”
“I could make the compartment and the frame, but there’s nothing around here that could be used to create an envelope, and I don’t know how to simply magic fabric into existence. Also, I’m not sure how to make helium. Hydrogen would be easier, I suppose. But, uh, Sardelle’s workbook doesn’t cover how to cleave atoms.”
“Were her ten-year-old students not interested in that?” Kaika asked.
“I guess not.”
“Trip looks daunted at the airship idea,” Blazer said, “so we’re going with my plan. Trip, due to your blood connection, you’re the nanny. You get to see those whelps home. If anyone has the power to deal with any trouble that might arise along the way, that’s you. That leaves me without a pilot for a flier, but I can’t imagine you not going with the babies. Agreed?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have an obligation to them. I doubt our sire cared about any of us, but I’m sure their mothers would have wanted them to be raised well and want for nothing.” He wondered if there was any way, millennia later, to find out who the mothers had been. One day, the children would grow old enough to ask.
“Wolf Squadron will stop in Charkolt first, grab an extra pilot from their base, and go back across the ocean to pick up your flier. After that, we’ll report in to the king and General Zirkander. Let them know you’re coming and what to expect.” Blazer waved a hand at the wagon again. “I won’t send you to be the nanny and handle the transportation by yourself. You can have anyone who’s not a pilot to take with you.” Blazer extended her hand toward Rysha and Kaika.
Kaika grunted. “With such equally appealing options, however will he choose one of us?”
“Actually, I thought he might choose both of you. Someone has to keep an eye on the babies while he’s dancing horizontally with his new partner.”
Trip’s mouth dangled open. He wasn’t sure how his relationship with Rysha had become an open topic for discussion, but it was horrifying him. Rysha merely lifted her gaze skyward, as if she expected nothing less in this group.
Fortunately, Blazer smirked after she spoke the words. A few days earlier, she’d seemed irked with Rysha and Trip for their impropriety. She had been less crabby with him since he’d healed her of that concussion.
“Wait, I’m the nanny now?” Kaika asked. “I’ve had this discussion with Ang—my steady fellow. I don’t deal with babies.”
“They’re frozen in those boxes. It’s not like you have to nurse them. That joy will go to someone else, assuming the king decides to take them out. I imagine they could go into storage for another thousand years.”
Trip found that notion almost as horrifying as them being stuck in some loveless orphanage. Even though he didn’t remember any of the years he’d spent in his stasis chamber, it seemed an awful fate for anyone. With their parents long dead, there was nobody left in the world who’d been around when they were born. Nobody who’d even known they existed until his mother stumbled upon the temple. Trip still had questions about how she had found her way there and who she had been traveling with, but he didn’t know if he would ever find those answers.
“Lieutenant Ravenwood and I can handle it,” Trip said. “We can contain our libidinous tendencies long enough to see them safely home.”
“Doubtful,” Blazer said. “No, I’ve decided. You need a higher-ranking officer to help out. If you end up in some random port without a flier base, Kaika should know someone in the local intel unit who can help get you home. Especially since it’s possible you won’t be able to find a ship or a flight directly to Iskandia from here.”
Trip hitched his shoulder. “It’s fine with me, ma’am.”
“Good, because I wasn’t asking for your consent.” Blazer waved at the train of fliers behind the locomotive, then gave W-08, her craft, a loving pat. “Let’s get these babies home.”
“It’s somewhat alarming that she’s more interested in those babies—” Rysha pointed to the fliers, “—than these.” She waved at the stasis chambers.
“Alarming, but not surprising.” Kaika smirked.
“So says the person who feels the same way,” Rysha said.
“I don’t have any fond feelings toward the fliers. I save my loving pats and terms of endearment for my bombs.”
“I share terms of endearment with my machine guns,” Blazer said.
“Oh, everybody does that,” Duck said, looking at Leftie.
Leftie nodded. “They’re more likely to jam if you don’t speak nicely to them.”
“Is it odd that I’m going to miss flying back with these people?” Rysha asked Trip quietly.
“Extremely odd.”
“I guess I’m lucky that you’re as drawn to odd people as I am.”
“Definitely.” He hesitated, then draped an arm around her shoulder. It wasn’t as if there were secrets out here anymore.
Rysha smiled and leaned into him.
• • • • •
Even though Rysha, Trip, and Kaika had removed as much of their Iskandian uniforms as they could without drawing attention to exposed bits, Rysha felt vulnerable walking into a town full of people who had proven themselves insular at best, and hostile and murderous on occasion. There was no hiding the military rucksacks they carried, nor their Iskandian-issue rifles. The soulblades and chapaharii blades didn’t mark them as Iskandians necessarily, but they certainly marked them as strangers. And possibly as strange.
And then there was the wagon Kaika was currently pulling, a blanket tucked over the contents. In the busy harbor city, it was surely only a matter of time before someone attempted to sneak close and look under it to see if there was anything worth stealing.
Or perhaps not. Even though the city was crowded, with people in loose clothing and sandals filling the streets and dodging delivery bicycles, nobody came close to their little group. Because of all their weapons? Some might find the rifles and swords intimidating, but Rysha, Trip, and Kaika passed numerous other people with firearms and swords. Weapons seemed more common here than not. Rysha gaped when they passed a pregnant woman carrying a baby in a sling and balancing a huge scimitar on her shoulder as she stalked down the street with a grocery sack.
When Rysha glanced at Trip to ask his thoughts on going straight to the docks or looking for Dreyak, she realized why people were giving them space. Even though he was walking normally in his black trousers and short-sleeved shirt, the uniform jacket removed, he exuded his dragonly aura, at least to some extent. It wasn’t as noticeable as when he actively used his magic, but he definitely radiated power, something intangible but nonetheless obvious to those who looked at him. She was no longer surprised when their eyes met and she felt that charge of attraction, that hum as her body grew hyperaware of his. She caught herself staring at him, forgetting their mission and wondering where the nearest hotel was. But she kicked her libidinous side in the butt and reminded herself this wasn’t the time for that. A thrum of agreement came from Dorfindral. She snorted, tempted to kick the sword in the butt too.
Trip must have noticed her gaze because he touched her hand and smiled, but he soon turned his attention back toward the route ahead, watching the busy street for danger.
“Do you want to go right down and try to find a ride off this continent?” Rysha asked, remembering her question. “Or should we look for Dreyak and Moe to see if those women from the outpost were taken back to their families or some other safe place?”
“I would be curious about that, but Kaika is in charge.” Trip tilted his head back toward her.
“Something that wouldn’t be apparent to outsiders since I’m carrying your baggage,” Kaika said, not missing any of their conversation, though she was also watching their surroundings and the route ahead intently. Always alert, she didn’t miss much.
“I refuse to feel bad about that
since I have blisters from my turn pulling the wagon.” Rysha lifted her hand to display them.
Trip had dragged the heavy wagon for even longer than she had, not able to apply his magic to make the task easier until they’d gotten out of the dead zone, something that hadn’t happened until a mile away from the city. Kaika, who hadn’t taken her turn at pulling until they reached the dirt and cobblestone streets, both easier to navigate than the cactus-filled desert terrain, had only been at it for ten minutes.
“Dreyak left us,” Kaika said. “We’re under no obligation to check up on him. Besides, thanks to all the things we had to build before leaving that cavern, it’s been a week since we parted ways. I bet he found whatever he was searching for and is gone.”
Rysha looked at Trip, wondering if he agreed. He hadn’t said anything to confirm it, but she suspected he knew more about Dreyak’s mission than anyone else did. Maybe even King Angulus.
“Likely,” was all Trip said.
“And Moe Zirkander,” Kaika said, “has a knack for getting out of tricky situations and maneuvering himself all over the world, even though he hates flying. I’m sure he’s moved on too. Either that, or he’s in some nearby cave, absorbed in whatever he was originally searching for. I do hope those girls all made it to safety, but unless we stumble across Moe or Dreyak, there’s probably no way to confirm that. Let’s just head down to the harbor and see if either of those two ships docked down there are heading our way.” She waved toward the water, visible now and then between buildings, the calm surface reddened by the setting sun.
When the docks came into view, Rysha slowed down. They weren’t crowded, and only a few people ambled through the area, so it should be easy to walk straight out to the ships, but an unsettling sight made her stop.
Two large posts rose up to either side of the walkway leading onto the metal docks. The posts were made from wood, some of the only wood she’d seen here, and a muscular man was tied—or staked—to one of them. She could only see the person from the side, but knew he wasn’t moving, and probably hadn’t moved for some time.