The water in front of the woman stirred, and she flailed, scrambling backward. “It’s coming!”
A part of Cas’s brain registered that she understood the words and that they had been uttered with a Cofah accent at the same time as she took aim and fired again. The winged alligator had come up between the bridge and Pimples. He pushed the woman further back, trying to keep her safe while he traded his rifle for a dagger. He plunged down at the head arrowing toward them. Cas wanted to shoot at it, the most immediate threat for them, but she could see what Pimples couldn’t, that two more alligators were coming in from farther out in the water, heading straight for him and the woman.
Cas fired at each of them as Pimples grappled with the first one—its maw opened wide, fangs looming only inches from Pimples’ face. He jammed his knife into the top of the alligator’s mouth. One of the creatures Cas had struck jerked its head about and paused in its attack. The second kept swimming toward the woman.
“Dragon,” she barked, not daring to look away to see if Phelistoth was anywhere close. “We could use some help.”
She had no sooner uttered the words than a giant shape flew past her, the air stirred by its wings almost enough to knock Cas from the bridge. Phelistoth, back in dragon form, reached the battle and plucked the charging alligator from the water as if it weighed no more than a fish. Bone crunched as his long neck whipped up and his jaw crushed the creature. He snapped his head and let go. The alligator sailed twenty-five meters before splashing down on the other side of the bridge.
Pimples, in the middle of wrestling with the first alligator, disappeared under the surface. His adversary was under the water now, too, and Cas had nothing to aim at. Feeling useless, she sprinted as close as she could to where boards had been torn from the rope framework of the bridge. The water churned around where Pimples had been. She pointed her rifle, waiting for a target, the right target. All she needed was a split second.
The woman was still fighting, treading water and turning in a circle, bashing the butt of her rifle down whenever she saw—or thought she saw—something. Maybe the alligator was bumping her with its tail. Whatever it was doing, it didn’t come back to the surface. Sweat dripped down the sides of Cas’s face. She was aware of Phelistoth killing another alligator in the distance, but she didn’t take her eyes from the water next to the woman. It crossed her mind to jump in and try to find Pimples down there, but what could she do in a grappling match with an alligator that weighed five times as much as she did?
The water grew still, aside from ripples flowing away from the woman as she bobbed up and down, treading water. Fear crept into Cas, her limbs growing heavy with dread. Had it killed Pimples? Dragged him away for some underwater meal?
“Get on the bridge,” she told the woman. She could have extended her rifle to help, but she kept hoping that the alligator would come up, that she would get a chance to shoot it.
The woman seemed to notice her for the first time. She hesitated, then paddled awkwardly for the bridge, not letting go of her rifle. Cas did lower one hand to help her pull herself up. Tylie appeared behind her and lent further help. The woman gasped, clearly exhausted as she collapsed across the boards.
Farther out in the water, Phelistoth had finished with the other alligators. He turned toward them, half of his silvery body under the surface. He flexed his wings and rivers of water fell from them.
“Dragon,” Cas said, “can you help Pimples? Can you tell if—”
Phelistoth, he growled into her mind.
She glowered at him. He was worried about names right now?
“I sense him,” Tylie whispered. “He’s—”
The water broke, a dark shape surging to the surface. Expecting the alligator, Cas almost shot, but she lifted her rifle, shifting her finger from the trigger. It was Pimples, his hair matted to his head, water streaming into his eyes as he gulped in air. He coughed and nearly choked.
“Here.” Cas extended her rifle.
He dashed water from his eyes, spotted it, and gripped the barrel.
“What happened?” she asked as she pulled him in.
“It had my pack.” Pimples glanced over his shoulder. “It still has my pack. It was crunching down on my canteen and all my rations, and I think it thought it had me. I couldn’t get away. It was dragging me somewhere. I had to cut the straps off, but I was all tangled up, and I thought I was doing to drown.” He hauled himself onto the bridge. “Then it let go and just disappeared.”
You are welcome, Phelistoth said into Cas’s mind. Into all of their minds, most likely, because the woman looked in his direction and gaped at him.
“Thank you, Phelistoth,” Cas said, though she wished he hadn’t hesitated and had jumped in earlier.
“It’s true,” the woman whispered, still staring at Phelistoth’s sleek silver form. “I’d heard they were back in the world.”
“Heroic soldiers who leap to the assistance of women under attack?” Pimples asked. “Yes, we’re back in the world.”
Seven gods, was he trying to flirt? Now? Had Cas been closer and had he looked haler, she would have jabbed an elbow into his ribs.
The woman glanced at him, her brow wrinkled, but her gaze was soon drawn back to the dragon. Riveted to him. Phelistoth had recreated his sphere of light, and he directed it over the bridge as he waded closer, shaking his wings off with a disdainful sneer for the water, or perhaps the entire marsh.
Cas had an opportunity to study the woman while she stared at him. She was younger than she had guessed at first, not much older than Tylie. Maybe twenty? Cas would call her cute rather than beautiful, with olive skin, dark brown eyes, and black hair. She wore practical travel clothes, trousers and a long-sleeve shirt full of pockets. Cas would have assumed her a local if she hadn’t spoken with a Cofah accent. What would a Cofah woman be doing down here? Their military was all male, so she shouldn’t have come from any of those ships. She looked too young to be some world explorer, and she had nearly lost her life tonight.
Phelistoth sprang out of the water, droplets flying everywhere. Cas lifted an arm to block them, and by the time the bridge shuddered, signifying someone landing on it, the dragon had shifted back to human form. Tylie grinned and hugged him. Phelistoth did not return the hug, but he also did not object to it.
“Amazing,” the woman breathed, coming to her feet. “I’d read that dragons could assume many forms and that some of the unnatural creatures remaining in the world were a result of dragon-animal breeding in eras past, but I had no idea if the texts could be trusted or if someone back then had a fanciful imagination.”
“Unnatural.” Phelistoth sniffed. “Really.”
Pimples sighed softly, and Cas looked at him.
“Is it all right to be jealous that the dragon is getting all of her attention?” he whispered.
“Probably.”
Pimples looked past the dragon and back toward the island. “I bet I know why that hut has supplies now, and why there’s a long ladder you have to climb to get into it. You’re probably supposed to sprint to it if you hear alligators coming and hide out until dawn.”
The woman finally tore her gaze from Phelistoth and looked at Pimples. “Actually, based on my reading, the winged ’gators are crepuscular. I believed I was leaving the city late enough to avoid them.” She pushed her tangled, wet hair over her shoulder and with a wry smile said, “Apparently, you can’t believe everything you read in books. They clearly have a longer hunting period than the dawn and dusk hours.”
“Clearly.” Cas stuck out her hand, then lowered it, remembering the Cofah did not have handshakes as part of their traditional greetings. “I’m Cas. That’s Tylie, Phelistoth, and Pimples.”
Pimples stood and bowed.
“Phelistoth?” The woman looked at the dragon again, scarcely noticing Pimples. “You’re not one of the ones I heard about.”
Pimples frowned at Cas and whispered, “Next time, say my name before the dragon’s. And for the
sake of all the gods in the pantheon, call me Farris, please.”
“You can tell her to call you whatever you like.” Cas dug into her ammo pouches to reload. She was careful to wipe her hands, aware of all the moisture around. The last thing she needed was for the powder in her shells to get wet.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I didn’t mean to stare and ignore you. My name is... You can call me Zia.”
“Zia?” Cas lifted her eyebrows, suspecting that was a fake name.
“It’s my childhood nickname. I always liked it.” She smiled at Cas and also at Pimples, who beamed in response and stood rigidly straight, as if he had been called to attention by General Ort.
“My name is Farris,” Pimples told the woman—Zia. “Are you injured at all? We have first-aid kits.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, then seemed to remember his pack had been torn off, and flushed, as if losing it to an alligator’s maw was a cause for massive embarrassment.
Cas plucked a wet, limp reed off his jacket. “I have a kit if you need it. Either of you.” She eyed Pimples’ and Zia’s soggy forms.
Zia looked at a cut on the back of her hand that dripped blood, but shook her head. “I wasn’t seriously injured. But he, ah, Pimples, was it?”
Pimples opened his mouth, no doubt to correct her on the name, but she continued on.
“He was pulled under.” She looked him up and down.
“I’m fine.” His cheeks were still flushed.
Cas supposed she should be glad Pimples’ romantic interests were not turned toward her anymore. “Miss Zia, we were on our way into the city. Can we take you back somewhere? I’m sure you want to change clothes. We were also hoping you might direct us to a safe place to stay.” A safe place where Cas could leave Pimples while she went to scour the city jails for sign of Tolemek and the others.
“Back?” Zia’s eyebrows rose, and she looked over her shoulder, scrutinizing the distant lights burning in the mist. “No, I can’t go back. In fact, uhm.” She pointed past Tylie and Phelistoth. “I appreciate your help, but I need to keep going.” She picked up her rifle from the bridge—amazing that she hadn’t lost it in the chaos. “That way.”
“Uh.” Pimples scratched his jaw. “We just came from that direction. There’s nothing there.”
“Except more alligators,” Tylie put in. “They won’t bother us now that they know Phel is around, but you should probably stay with us.”
Zia’s expression had been admirably cheerful, considering the circumstances under which they had found her, but she bit her lip and eyed them with concern now. Her gaze locked on Phelistoth, less out of interest in his dragonness now, Cas sensed, and more because he was blocking her path.
“We won’t force you to stay with us,” Cas said, guessing as to why she would be concerned. “But we also don’t think you should continue into the swamp alone.”
“I’m not going far.”
Cas couldn’t imagine what was out here that wasn’t “far.” Then, with a jolt, she realized where the young woman must be headed. Cofah accent. Cofah ships.
“Are you going out to the bay?” Cas asked. “Where the Cofah ships are anchored?”
Zia’s eyes widened. “I—”
A distant clank sounded from the direction of the city, then a clatter as someone dropped something and cursed. Cas didn’t recognize the language.
Zia cursed. Cas had no trouble recognizing her words, a disparaging remark about the dragon god’s testicles.
“I have to go,” she whispered, pushing past Tylie as she spoke. “Thank you for the help. Uhm, if you could delay them, that would also be appreciated. Thank you.”
She tried to push past Phelistoth, too, but he frowned down at her and did not move. She bounced off his chest.
Zia glanced over her shoulder again. Cas could not yet see who was coming, but a pair of lanterns had come into view from the direction of the city.
“Kindly let me pass, please, dragon.” Zia’s tone remained polite, but it had developed an edge.
“Let her go, Phelistoth,” Cas whispered. “Please. And we should go too.” She made a shooing motion toward Tylie and Phelistoth. Whoever was coming from the city, she guessed they would be guards or police and doubted they would direct Iskandian invaders to the nearest inn.
“The hut,” Pimples whispered, following Cas.
They didn’t make it far. Phelistoth still hadn’t moved. He was gazing down at Zia and wearing a frown. His legs were spread, his stance saying he wasn’t letting anyone by.
The men with the lanterns spoke again, their voices closer. The mist stirred, their figures coming into view.
“Phel?” Tylie asked.
Without a word, he sprang into the air, transforming into a dragon. Cas smacked her forehead. Here? He was going to show himself off here, where those guards might see?
Zia did not question the dragon’s transformation. She simply hustled past once the bridge was clear. She did not, however, make it far. After flapping his powerful wings a few times, causing ripples in the water on either side of the bridge, he snatched Zia up with his talons. She squawked in surprise, dropping her rifle for the first time.
Cas jerked her own weapon up, but paused halfway. What was she supposed to do? Shoot their ally? While she stood there, gawking, Phelistoth flew back in the direction of the fliers.
A shout came from behind. The guards must have heard that squawk.
“Go,” Cas whispered, charging toward the island and waving for Tylie to run ahead of her. Pimples snatched up Zia’s rifle and followed after them.
Cries of halt—Cas assumed that was what, “Noos, noos!” meant—rang out behind them.
Cas did not halt. Even if she hadn’t wanted to avoid the local authorities, she would have chased after Phelistoth. What in all the levels of all the hells was he thinking?
When they reached the island, Pimples brushed past Cas to take the lead.
“Watch it,” she grunted reflexively when he jostled her.
“That dragon just kidnapped my—our—girl!”
“Just so you know,” Cas responded, her breaths starting to come in gasps as they sped along the next bridge, “we weren’t going to keep her.”
“She still doesn’t know my name,” he moaned.
Cas forced herself to slow down. She had passed Tylie and she was falling behind. Instead of practical boots, she wore sandals, and she slipped several times as they navigated the wet boards. The guards hadn’t given up the chase, and they were gaining on her group. A few more cries of, “Noos, noos!” pierced the mist, followed by a gunshot.
Cas trusted it was a warning shot, but her shoulder blades itched nonetheless. She picked up her speed, wishing she could heft Tylie over her shoulder and carry her. There were times when she envied men their size and strength. She thought about turning and shooting back to discourage their pursuers, but the second island came into view and a new idea came to mind.
When they reached it, she traded her rifle for her utility knife. Cutting the ropes fastening the bridge to the posts wasn’t as easy as she would have wished, and she had to saw like a lumberjack hounded by a whip-cracking overseer, but just as the men raced into view, she cut through the last rope. The bridge sagged immediately.
She didn’t know if her work would be enough to send it to the bottom of the swamp, but the men clearly felt the give, for they cried out in alarm and faltered.
She sprinted after Pimples and Tylie who had kept running while Cas had been sawing. In a few minutes, they reached the end of the last bridge. There was no sign of Phelistoth or his prisoner.
Shouts came from the direction of the island. There were more than two voices now. The broken bridge must not have deterred the pursuers that much. Whoever that woman was, it didn’t seem the guards were going to let her go easily.
“Which way?” Pimples panted softly, eyes straining as he peered into the trees. “We can’t lead them back to our fliers.”
No, and they
couldn’t take off until Phelistoth showed up to move those trees again. Cas growled. She gripped her knife, wondering if she should cut the ropes on this bridge too.
“Tylie,” she whispered, “do you know—”
“He went that way.” Tylie pointed along the shoreline, fortunately not in the direction of the fliers.
Cas let her lead, relieved when she took off at a run. “Do you know why he took that girl?”
“No.”
“Of course not,” Cas grumbled.
Tylie smiled back at her. “I do know who she is now.”
“Who?”
“A Cofah princess.”
Cas tripped over a root.
“What?” Pimples whispered.
“Emperor Salatak’s youngest daughter,” Tylie said.
“The one who’s here to marry someone important from the city?” Cas asked.
“I believe so, yes.”
Cas slapped her forehead for the second time that night. Did that damned dragon know he had kidnapped the wrong member of the imperial family?
Chapter 9
The clip-clop of the shod horses turning onto the road was a beautiful sound. Not a mud road or a gravel road or a weed-choked path barely discernible amid the trees and foliage, but a well-maintained stone and cement road with runoffs for rain on either side. It wasn’t one of the imperial highways that crossed the nation, but chances were that it eventually led to one. Ridge imagined he could see the capital, the king’s castle, and the butte that held his beloved hangars full of fliers in the distance.
That was, of course, premature—all he could see were more trees, and the mountains still loomed above the road to the right—but a sign promised they were only five miles to Aspen Creek, the town the mayor in the last village had suggested he visit. Apparently, an ex-pilot lived there and had acquired an old flier that he rolled out for barnstorming shows during the summer holidays. If the man would let Ridge borrow it, he could be home by morning, maybe even tonight. A journey that would take days on horseback could be over in hours. Then he could find someone to fix his head and tell him how there had come to be a dragon attacking villages.