05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Sir, aren’t you AWOL?” Miller also saluted, but it turned into a head scratch.

  “And cavorting with a witch,” Brax said, his eyes still round.

  Ridge was tempted to ride through without explaining himself, but he wanted to give Sardelle time to do whatever it was she intended to do.

  “That’s an interesting interpretation of events,” he said, “but I’ve actually been on a mission for the king. I would report in to him, but he seems to be missing. I guess General Ort will have to receive my report instead. He’ll appreciate that. He enjoys the challenge of deciphering my handwriting.”

  The guards exchanged looks with each other. He couldn’t tell if the looks meant they didn’t believe his story, or if they were uncomfortable because they figured they would have to tell him that Ort was missing.

  “Sir, nobody knows where General Ort is,” the corporal said.

  Somebody knew where he was… “Oh? A lot of people have gone missing in my absence.”

  “Yes, sir,” the corporal said glumly. “And all of our flier squadrons have been sent off on secret missions. There’s some concern about… well, they’re—you’re—our main defense against aerial attacks.”

  “Yes, I hope to do something about that. Leaving the city—”

  “Help!” someone called from one of the vendor stalls. “My dragons are on fire!”

  “There’s something you don’t hear every day.” Ridge turned his mount to face the wagon showcasing the wooden carvings. “Sounds painful.”

  The soldiers snickered. They took a few steps forward, so they could see the smoke rising from the wagon. Technically, what happened to the civilian vendors was not any concern of anyone on base, but a big fire would be a problem for everyone. Ridge trusted that neither Sardelle nor Jaxi would let things get out of hand.

  None of his wares are truly burning, Sardelle said into his mind.

  Too bad. There should be a punishment for selling me a luck dragon that wasn’t lucky.

  The frame of his wagon might be charring lightly. I’ll put it out as soon as we’re through.

  Perhaps you should lightly char his pocketbook.

  I had no idea you felt so bitterly about that statue.

  It’s more for the house that the dragon was supposed to be protecting. Admittedly, Ridge had let himself fall for the vendor’s spiel. Oh, he hadn’t truly believed that the wooden carvings could change a man’s fate, not much anyway, but he had hoped for a little luck when needed.

  “Brax,” the corporal said. “Go see if we need to contact the fire department or if a wet towel would work.”

  Though Ridge continued to gaze toward the smoldering wagon, he thought he glimpsed a hint of movement behind him, someone slipping through the gate perhaps.

  “I’m on my way to headquarters,” Ridge said. “Do you want me to report the fire?”

  “No, sir. It doesn’t look that bad. And it’s raining. How much could it possibly spread?”

  Ridge shrugged, not wanting to say anything that would cause the corporal to realize that a fire starting on a soggy, rainy day wasn’t terribly likely. Without asking for permission, he nudged the horse forward, as if he had every right to stroll through the gate without being questioned. He usually did. But this time, he waited tensely, expecting one of the men to shout after him.

  Nobody did. He trotted the horse toward the stables in the back corner of the fort. He wished he could head straight to the tram and hand the reins off to some private along the way, but this wasn’t an emergency, as far as the rest of the base was concerned, so he could not justify that. Besides, the path that led from the stables to the tram was rarely used by anyone except pilots and the maintenance crew. Once he reached it, he hoped to avoid anyone who would question him more thoroughly than a corporal.

  He had no sooner than had the thought when he turned onto the street that led to the stables and almost ran over a rangy gray-haired man with the elaborate golden sword-and-musket pin of a general on his cap and a chest full of marksmanship and valor medals dangling from his jacket. General Arstonhamer. The sight of him turned Ridge’s conscience guilty, thanks to his previous night’s spying, but he whipped up a hasty salute, hoping to ride by without being questioned.

  “Colonel Zirkander,” the general snapped, stepping into the horse’s path and raising a hand.

  “Yes, sir?” Ridge said politely.

  “Where in all the levels of all the hells have you been?”

  “A mission for the king, sir. In Cofahre. So your hells guess is quite accurate.” He smiled easily.

  Arstonhamer glowered. “If you were on a mission, why do the official personnel reports have you down as AWOL?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I just got back. I aim to straighten things out.”

  “The newspapers said you disappeared with a flier squadron to do some witch’s bidding.”

  Ridge knew he should keep his answers polite and respectful, but these people calling Sardelle a witch made his hackles rise every time. “Are we getting our intel from journalists now?”

  Arstonhamer’s glower turned into a scowl. “You better watch your delinquent mouth or I’ll knock you off that horse.”

  Ridge clenched his jaw to keep from saying something incendiary. More incendiary.

  “I assume you’re going to report in to HQ.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll stop by there when the workday ends,” Arstonhamer said, “to make sure you didn’t stray.”

  “Why would I stray, sir?” Ridge asked, though he probably shouldn’t have, since that was exactly what he intended to do. “I need to figure out what’s going on. I’ve been risking myself and my people on a mission, and I come back to find out I haven’t been paid all month. I’m going to report in right away.”

  “See to it that you do.” Arstonhamer stepped away from the horse and continued down the street.

  Ridge hurried toward the stables, almost laughing at the idea of any pay accumulating for him. When Accounting figured out how many fliers he had lost, he would be lucky if the army’s money ever visited his bank account again. More likely, he would receive a big bill. He hoped Sardelle wasn’t staying with him for the money.

  No, but the cabin by the lake is quite lovely. I look forward to seeing it in the spring.

  I didn’t realize you were that fond of it. Ridge resisted the urge to look for Sardelle. He definitely didn’t want Arstonhamer to spot her. Most women are unimpressed by the outhouse.

  Indoor plumbing was more of a rarity in my time. Sardelle did the equivalent of clearing her throat in his mind. Most women, you say? Have you taken many out there?

  Erg, he knew better than to allude to past women to the current woman, especially when he wanted to keep the current woman. Many? Not many. Ridge bit his lip, realizing he couldn’t lie to someone who was inside his head. Can you define many? He only remembered three that he had taken all the way out there, but would Sardelle consider that many?

  Relax, Ridge, she teased him. I didn’t imagine you were a chaste forty-year-old national hero, pining away and waiting for Fate to deliver me into your life.

  Deciding not to comment further—and risk sticking his foot in his mouth—Ridge dismounted in front of the stable. A private came out to take his horse.

  I do hope I’m the only one you’ve done unspeakable things with against your mother’s door.

  The image of said things popped into Ridge’s mind along with Sardelle’s words, and he stumbled and sputtered a little. The private looked at him curiously.

  Ridge thumped himself on the chest and coughed. “Still recovering from my last meal at the mess hall.”

  “Understandable, sir.”

  Ridge circled the stable and headed for the path leading to the tram. Yes, Sardelle, I can promise you that I’ve never whisked another woman into my mother’s bedroom.

  Good. A lady likes to think she’s special.

  You know, you pretend to be more wholes
ome than Jaxi, but I think you’re actually quite well suited to each other.

  Sardelle did not answer promptly. Ridge hoped he hadn’t offended her.

  No, I couldn’t formulate a response over the loud snickering that Jaxi was inserting into my thoughts.

  Ah. Ridge paused on the tree-lined path. Are you with me?

  She’d had a horse, too, and he didn’t know if she had intended to sneak it into the stable or had already left the creature tied up in front of a building somewhere.

  She’s behind the stable, munching on an apple and waiting for the attendant to notice her. I’ll meet you at the tram.

  There would be a soldier operating it from within the hut at the bottom. Ridge would have to chat with him to distract him so Sardelle could sneak on. He longed for the day when they could walk openly together again.

  Me too.

  “Colonel Zirkander,” the tram operator blurted before Ridge could knock on his door.

  Given that everyone was greeting him with shocked expressions, Ridge wondered anew about the possibility of an arrest warrant. He hoped they were simply surprised to see him because of the AWOL charge. He also hoped Arstonhamer found some errands to run and didn’t think to report seeing Ridge any time soon.

  “Afternoon, Sammon,” Ridge said casually, pretending there was nothing unusual about his appearance. “Do you know if Colonel Therrik is up there? Apparently, I’m supposed to report to him for duty.” His mouth twisted—he had no problem showing anyone who would listen how distasteful he found that.

  “He is, sir.” Private Sammon gave him a sympathetic grimace. Clearly Therrik had impressed him with his charisma on one of his trips up. “Good luck.”

  You on? Ridge thought.

  Yes. Crouching below the level of the window. The metal floor is impressively dust-free.

  We aim to run a tidy base. Ridge headed for the tram door, his nerves dogfighting in his belly. Even though he had argued that it was likely for Therrik to be up top, and he needed to question the man, he wouldn’t have minded delaying their meeting. Considering where Ridge had left him when last they had met, Therrik would probably try to throttle him as soon as he walked through the door. He assumed it was hard to interrogate a man while being choked. He would also have a hard time sending telegraph messages with Therrik in the office.

  Sardelle was indeed crouching on the floor in the tram. She smiled up at him when he entered. We’ll figure it out. If he tries to choke you, I’ll give him a debilitating rash.

  A rash? Where?

  In his office.

  That’s not what I meant.

  Speaking of snickering into one’s mind… Sardelle did it as effectively as Jaxi.

  The tram clanked into motion, slowly rising on its cable toward the top of the cliff. When the roof of the hut disappeared from sight, Sardelle stood up. It would only take a couple of minutes to reach the top, but Ridge extended his arm, offering a hug. Even though Tolemek had his uses, he was glad to have Sardelle along this time. He would much rather hide under a bed with her.

  “I’m glad to hear it. We wouldn’t want Cas to get jealous and believe you’re trying to steal her pirate.” She leaned against him, slid her arms around his waist, and rested her head against his shoulder. “You smell good.”

  “Thanks. I bathed. It’s been a rare experience lately.”

  “Is that lavender?”

  “Uh. Maybe. My mom makes all of her own soaps, and they tend to be floral rather than manly. Maybe I’ll request she make a nice pine resin one for me.”

  “Scented soaps? I didn’t see those when I bathed.”

  She sounded disappointed. Ridge supposed women liked smelling of flowers.

  “They’re easy to mistake for something else, since she shapes them into things.”

  “Ohhh. I wondered why there was an army of cats watching me bathe from the ledge. Soap, hm.”

  Ridge wouldn’t have minded standing there with Sardelle longer, but the tram was approaching the top. He hoped Therrik didn’t notice that Ridge smelled like a flower. He hadn’t realized how strong those cat soaps were.

  “You’re probably safe unless he gets close.”

  “Such as the closeness required for throttling?”

  “Yes, you should avoid that.” Sardelle’s eyes grew distant briefly. “There’s not an operator in the hut up here. In fact, there’s hardly anyone in the hangar. Therrik’s in the office and a few maintenance people are in the shop in the back.”

  Ridge sighed and released Sardelle. “Yes, I’ve heard about the emptiness.”

  “I’ll wait outside of the office, close enough to get the gist of his thoughts—actually, that will probably be Jaxi. She’s the stronger telepath. In order to keep him from noticing her intrusion, it would help if you got him thinking of the questions we want answers to.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He did not point out that it would be hard to ask questions if Therrik’s hands were around Ridge’s throat. He had probably whined about that possibility too many times already. People who faced down Cofah cannons shouldn’t complain about meetings with officers in their own unit.

  “Perhaps if you met with him while behind the guns in your flier,” Sardelle suggested, stopping at the hangar door and waving for him to enter first.

  “I would be most amenable to that.” As he walked inside, Ridge grinned at the memory of swooping through Crazy Canyon while Therrik threw up behind him.

  It’s possible there’s a reason he wants to throttle you, Sardelle sent in parting.

  Ridge was aware of her disappearing into the shadows behind him, but once again, did not look in her direction. It wasn’t that hard, since the sight of the bleak cavernous hangar captivated his attention. One two-man flier and two one-man fliers, including his usual craft, hunkered in the repair area. He had never seen the place so empty, so abandoned. Even when Tiger and Wolf Squadrons were both in the skies, the hangar crew would be back here, preparing for their return. But now, the sound of his boots rang hollowly as he walked across the cement floor.

  Only a few lamps burned, leaving the shadows thick about the place. Sardelle wouldn’t need her magic to hide. Who was here to notice her?

  A throat cleared in the office. All right, there was one person who might notice, the person who had approved of this evacuation.

  As Ridge strode toward the office, his earlier apprehension faded, replaced by irritation. He was irritated at Therrik, and he was irritated at the queen, too, even if he hadn’t figured out what her role was in all of this. It was hard to believe that the king’s wife of over twenty years would be spearheading some plan to make her husband disappear and empty the city of its defenses. Why would she? To hand the capital over to the Cofah? How could anyone who had grown up here and endured the frequent and inexorable attacks from the empire think of working with them?

  Ridge knocked on the door. The only thing that kept him from barging in and making demands was the reminder of Therrik’s training as an infantry soldier who had spent time with the elite forces units. As twitchy as those boys were, he would probably spring for Ridge’s neck before bothering to identify him.

  “What?” came the familiar growl. Apparently, Therrik wasn’t worried that some general had come up to visit him.

  “You’re in my chair,” Ridge said as he opened the door.

  The big desk faced the door, so Ridge looked his nemesis in the face as he walked in. Therrik’s eyes narrowed to slits. He planted his hands on the paper-filled surface and rose slowly, his massive shoulders flexing. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing corded muscle and tattoos of daggers dripping blood. He could probably spring over the desk from that position. Ridge propped a fist on his hip, hoping to show that he wasn’t intimidated. He actually wasn’t since Sardelle was out there, though the idea of relying on his lady for protection did make him feel a tad unmanly.

  “It’s my desk now.” Therrik smiled, an alarming gesture, even if it was every bit as cold and unfrien
dly as the rest of him.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a desk man. Pilots like to sit down, but I would have thought all your big muscles would cramp up being forced into inactivity.” Ridge glanced at Therrik’s forehead, hoping to imply his brain muscle had cramped up, too, but he doubted the man was perceptive enough to see through such a subtle hint.

  At what point will you start directing the interrogation toward the questions we wish to know? Sardelle asked politely.

  I figured we needed to exchange pleasantries first.

  If you goad him into attacking you and I have to reveal myself, I expect he’ll be less amenable to answering anything. If he’s affiliated with that organization, he’ll hate me on sight.

  Yes, Ridge remembered the unflattering things Therrik had said regarding Sardelle and Tolemek in that first meeting with the king. He’d never met either of them then. He might have based his hatred of Tolemek on his reputation, but he couldn’t have known a thing about Sardelle, unless he had been chatting with the queen back then and she had told him something.

  For most, it’s enough that I have dragon blood. It seems that people in this century don’t need any greater reason to hate me.

  Ridge would have liked to say something comforting back to her, even if she had stated it without much emotion, but Therrik was opening his bear trap again.

  “Where have you been, Zirkander?”

  “Cofahre.” Ridge almost made a comment about how he had been risking his life while Therrik had been polishing that chair with his butt, but that would remind Therrik about how he had been abandoned. No need to bring that up.

  “After that,” Therrik said. “Kaika and your scrawny lieutenant came back more than two weeks ago.”

  Ridge tried to sense if he knew anything about Kaika’s capture at the castle, but Therrik did not give any special emphasis to her name.

  “We had to deprive the Cofah of the source of their dragon blood, which we were successful at.” I’m going to try and direct him onto more relevant topics now, he added silently, assuming Sardelle was monitoring his thoughts. “But as Apex would have reported, I’m sure they still have supplies stashed away. Therrik, how could you approve sending both squadrons out of the city? Those weapons are mission-ready. The unmanned fliers and self-directing rockets could show up in our airspace any day.”