Blood Charged

by Lindsay Buroker

  Her satchel snagged on some obstacle in the way. She tried to push it aside, but it stuck out of the wall. She leaned forward and patted around, trying to figure out if it went all the way across or if she could climb over or duck under. Something else snagged her hair. Grumbling, she tried to draw back. Her knuckles brushed against the wall. It had turned from brick into dirt at some point. The thing in her path seemed to be a branch, or maybe a tree root. Had she gone the wrong way? Maybe she wasn’t heading toward the street at all.

  Sardelle risked a small light and gasped, stumbling backward. The human leg bone sticking out of the wall wasn’t what she had expected at all. Her heel caught on one of the rocks, and she almost pitched to the ground. The narrowness of the passage saved her, for she flung her arms out, catching herself. What she’d thought was a rock was part of a skull. There were a number of them behind her—she had been stepping all over them, kicking them to the side. Nubs of bones were sticking out all along the dirt wall.

  It took a moment for her heart to quiet its rapid beating… and for her to realize this must be the edge of some old cemetery or catacomb. The bones were yellow and brittle with age; they had been residents of this place for a long time.

  “What a strange research trip this is,” she whispered.

  Back in the basement, rock or brick shifted, reminding her that those people would be expecting to find her in that room. She hustled forward, crawling awkwardly under the bone obstacles. Noises came from ahead, clack-clunks that echoed oddly in the small passage. Horse hooves? On cobblestones? She thought she might find a way up to the street, but ultimately her passage simply continued under it. It turned and she stumbled across more debris, this time broken ceramic jugs. She touched the wall in spots, trying to sense an opening ahead or another basement nearby. Finally, she found the latter. There was nobody in it, and the wall was in poor condition here as well. She carefully tore away bricks, feeling bad about her vandalism, but she had no intention of wandering this maze beneath the city all day.

  She squeezed through her hole and into a basement full of old distilling equipment. She climbed creaking wood stairs that led to a ground-level building. Clanks and the smells of food wafted down the hall, but she turned in the opposite direction, finding a door leading to an alley. Outside, she slumped against the wall, relieved to be in daylight again. Horses and wagons passed in the nearby street.

  Disoriented, Sardelle crept to the end of the alley to see where she was. She snorted. The front door of the archives was across the street and only one building away. It had seemed like she had been underground far longer than that. She poked her head out and peered in both directions, then yanked her head right back into the alley. There were two slender figures in cloaks watching the archives building. The same two that had been blowing their way into the basement? No, this felt like another two. Both women. Interesting.

  Sardelle backed up and nearly cried out when she ran into someone.

  “Most people have to go inside the archives building to do research,” a familiar voice drawled, “but I suppose you have those special powers.”

  “Ridge,” she whispered with heartfelt relief, facing him for a sound kiss, though she wasn’t ready to turn her back on the street—and those spies—for long. Those women hadn’t moved. They were like statues watching the front door.

  “What are we spying on?” Ridge slipped his arms around her waist and hugged her from behind. It wasn’t always easy to tell when he was worried, since he made flippant remarks no matter what, but she sensed his concern wrapping around her along with his arms. For a moment, she basked in it, admiring the handsome line of his jaw over her shoulder. A month of living together had yet to dull the almost giddy pleasure she experienced in his company. Then it occurred to her to wonder what had brought him here in the middle of the day. And why he was breathing so heavily. With sweat trickling down the side of his face. Had he run all the way here?

  She squeezed his arm to let him know she appreciated the embrace and answered his question before asking her own. “Those two women in the cloaks. There are more inside who tried to trap me in the basement. How’d you know I was in trouble?”

  “Your sword chose an inopportune moment to jump into my head.” Ridge dropped one arm to rub his backside.

  “Jaxi? I told her not to do that to you. I—Jaxi! I forgot about her.”

  “She’s in danger too?”

  “In danger of being discovered, anyway. Someone was sneaking into your house.” Jaxi? Did you and the beer steins drive away the intruders?

  “More women in cloaks?”

  “I don’t know. She’s not answering. Do you have time to stop at home before going back to work?”

  He hesitated, and she flinched inwardly. He probably hadn’t had time to come to her rescue in the first place, but he had clearly made it.

  “Yes.” Ridge stepped back and dusted a cobweb from her hair. “But I have to tell you about my latest mission on the way. You’re not injured, are you?”

  “No.” She swatted at dust clinging to her dress.

  Ridge frowned at her, as if he wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth. He didn’t question her, though. He pointed toward the archives building. “Not that you need my assertive and manly help in matters, but do you want me to question those women and get some information before we go?”

  “I don’t know… Would you be getting information with force or with charm?”

  “If I follow in my already established pattern for the day, I’d dangle from a vine outside their window.”

  “There’s a story I’d like to hear about.”

  “And yet, oddly, I’m not inclined to share it.” Ridge grinned, then tilted his chin toward the street, silently asking his question again.

  It was probably a vain hope, but Sardelle didn’t want to drag Ridge into her trouble. He stood to lose so much if people found out he was protecting a sorceress. A witch, they would call her.

  “No,” Sardelle said. “Leave them be. Better to just disappear.”

  For a moment, he looked like he would argue, but he sighed and said, “As you wish.”

  He released her from his hug but held her hand as he started toward the opposite end of the alley. He paused before he had gone more than a step. “Ah, by disappear, did you mean walk briskly back to the house to check on your sword, or did you mean something more…” He waved his hand in the air and raised his eyebrows.

  Sardelle smiled and started walking at his side. Someday, she would give him the full list of what she could and could not do, but the notion that she could do anything magical at all hadn’t stopped making him twitch. It would take more time for him to grow accustomed to her abilities. Assuming she remained in the city and they had that time. She gave a long look over her shoulder before letting him lead her into the next street.

  * * *

  “How long will you be gone?” Sardelle asked as the gate guard passed them onto the installation. She was worried about Jaxi and setting a fast pace, but Ridge’s proclamation that he was heading to Cofahre, for what could only be a dangerous mission, had her doubly concerned. “And would it be terribly inappropriate if I arranged to be on the continent at the same time? I promised Tolemek I would find a way to get his sister, and…” She groped for a way to suggest that she could be useful if she were there with Ridge without implying that he needed her help.

  He gave her a sidelong look. “Tolemek should be coming with us, if Colonel Ice Butt doesn’t offend him so deeply that he flees the country ahead of time. Albeit, this isn’t a quest to get his sister.”

  “Will Lieutenant Ahn be going too?”

  Ridge nodded. “I’m not sure I could get anyone else to willingly fly with the Deathmaker sitting in the back seat. That would even make my shoulder blades itchy.”

  “Ah.” It was silly—Sardelle wasn’t a part of his world and certainly not trusted by his military, so she couldn’t expect to be invited along—but she already felt lonel
y at the thought of the few friends she had made all leaving her. As the weeks had passed, she had grown more distressed about the comrades and kin she would never see again, rather than less. In the beginning, it had been as if she had been off on some adventure in a strange new land, with her family waiting back at home. But she’d had more quiet time of late, and it had finally sunken in that there was no one back at home. There wasn’t even a home anymore.

  “I’d rather have you with us than roaming the continent on your own.” Ridge chewed on his lip as they rounded the corner onto his street. “And I’m not enthused about the idea of leaving you here, either, especially when there’s so much interest in you right now.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a luggage compartment on those fliers that you could stick me in.”

  “Uh, they’re not really made for long-distance voyages. Just ask Ahn about the tube.”

  “The tube?”

  “Never mind. You’ll find out when you ride in one.” Ridge squinted down the street toward his house. It had come into view and was still standing. There wasn’t any smoke billowing from broken windows. “If you’d agree to do the work of my machine guns, we might be able to mount you in front of the cockpit.”

  Sardelle was trying to imagine the feasibility of this—thus far, she had only seen the fliers from the ground—when she caught his quick smirk. “Ah, that was a joke.”

  “Let me mull on things. I might come up with something.”

  “Don’t get in trouble on my behalf, please.” She already worried they would find trouble at his house when they arrived.

  Yes, about that… You might not want to bring the homeowner in just yet.

  Jaxi! Why haven’t you been talking to me? And what do you expect me to do with Ridge? We’re only a half a block away.

  I’ve been using a lot of effort to remain hidden. Those women had some sort of device with them that could detect magic. I had to figure out how to thwart it. I don’t care for all these new technological advancements. This century is complicated. As for your pretty pilot, take him for a few laps around the block.

  He’s not a dog, Jaxi.

  Fine, but I can’t be blamed. I was only defending myself. I’m pretty sure those women were looking for me specifically. They kept muttering about swords.

  “Jaxi says the house may not be as we left it,” Sardelle said, following Ridge up the walkway. “The intruders weren’t tidy. She’s trying to clean up now.”

  Ridge stopped with his hand on the door. “Do you know how strange that sounds?”

  “The idea that Jaxi would do something so helpful as cleaning? Or the fact that she can?”

  “All of that, yes.”

  Sardelle put a supporting hand on his arm, in case he needed it when they walked inside. He opened the door, and a picture frame zipped past, inches from his face. He blinked slowly as he turned to watch it float across the room and affix itself to the wall above his stove. Then his eyes lowered and stayed closed. He took a deep breath.

  Sardelle winced and walked inside for a closer look. You made this mess? Or the intruders did?

  It was them. But possibly they didn’t start throwing things around in disgust until I started dropping pots on their heads.

  The awful green-and-yellow couch didn’t look any more appealing when it was lying on its back, its cushions thrown across the room. Chairs and tables were likewise overturned, and Ridge’s picture collection was all over the floor and dusted with something white. Oh, a flour canister had been knocked over, the powder strewn everywhere. Pots and pans littered the floor in the kitchen. Something that looked like a smear of blood decorated one of the counters.

  A cold draft rustled Sardelle’s dress. Ridge had opened his eyes, but he was still standing in the doorway, staring.

  She grimaced. “Are you dumbfounded because of the mess? Or because your pictures are rehanging themselves?”

  Ridge shut the door, removed his cap, and scraped his fingers through his hair. “All of that, yes,” he repeated.

  He managed one of his quirky grins for her. It didn’t seem forced—he had looked more stunned than truly upset—but that didn’t keep her from feeling bad. This was her fault.

  “Let me check on Jaxi. And make sure she’s still snuggled in with your mug collection.”

  “My what?”

  “You have a number of glass steins under the bed. We’ve, ah, discussed them.”

  “Oh, I was wondering where those went. People always give them to me whenever the squadron helps out in different parts of the country and lands long enough for a drink. I started to get concerned about my reputation after I received the tenth or twelfth. I do like a drink now and then, but does the average Iskandian subject think I’m perpetually drunk?” A heavy thud sounded as Ridge pushed the couch into the upright position. He was the first to admit it was loathsome, but he sprawled on it to read every night. Sardelle wondered if it was telling that it was the first thing he straightened.

  “Probably not if they’ve seen you fly.” Sardelle fished Jaxi out from beneath the bed and tucked her purloined scrolls behind the box of steins at the same time. “Those loopy loops and twisty screw moves you do would be difficult in an inebriated state.”

  It’s about time. None of this would have happened if you’d taken me with you in the first place.

  Keep nagging like that. It’ll ensure I want to take you places.

  Please, you know I’m perfectly capable of nagging, no matter where in the world you are.

  “Loopy… loops? I’m going to make sure nobody ever puts you on a committee for naming things.”

  “Is there such a committee?” Sardelle had met a number of his pilots and had to wonder who had thought Pimples, Duck, and Weasel would be good names for brave young men who risked their lives daily.

  A knock sounded at the front door, and Ridge didn’t answer her.

  Same people, Jaxi?

  No. A man I haven’t encountered before. He has two pistols and a number of knives hidden under his jacket.

  Sardelle hurried out of the bedroom and entered the living room as Ridge opened the door. His hand twitched toward the pistol under his own jacket, and she tensed, ready to defend him.

  The man standing outside wasn’t tall, broad, or beefy, but he wore black trousers, a black turtleneck shirt, and a black jacket. He had fine features, a cleft chin, short sandy hair combed to one side, and frosty green eyes. Though he stood several inches shorter than Ridge, he had a presence that made him seem larger. Intimidating. Ridge didn’t take a step back, but something in the way he held his shoulders made Sardelle believe he wanted to. The man’s gaze swept past Ridge, taking in the disheveled living room—and her—with a faint sneer.

  “Ahnsung,” Ridge said. “I’d feign surprise that the guards let you on the post, but I suppose you go where you want.”

  “They don’t know I’m here.”

  “Seems they don’t know a lot of people are here these days. I’m going to talk to someone about additional training.”

  The man—Ahnsung—didn’t smile or give any indication that he appreciated the humor. It was the opposite, rather, with his brows lowering, as if he was considering a punch to Ridge’s nose. Or something worse. Sardelle might assume this was some superior officer, since Ridge so often butted heads with them, but if this man were in the military, wouldn’t he be wearing a uniform? It was the middle of the workday.

  “You here to threaten me again, Ahnsung?” Ridge asked.

  “No.” The green eyes closed to slits. “Though you’re fortunate you weren’t here last month. I would have shot you if you had been.”

  Sardelle gaped. Ridge merely grunted and said, “Not surprising.”

  Last month? What had been happening then? She and Ridge had still been up at that fort.

  “You’re about to take her into trouble again,” Ahnsung said.

  All at once, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. Her. Ahnsung. Last month, Lieutenant Ahn h
ad been reported dead. This must be a relative. A father? Nobody had spoken of such a person to her, but other than the weekends at Ridge’s cabin, when she had been more intent on teaching Tolemek, Sardelle hadn’t spent much time with Ahn. The man was old enough to be her father. Late forties.

  “Amazing how quickly news from secret meetings with the king gets around,” Ridge said.

  How could this man know what members of his team Ridge was choosing to take on this new mission? He hadn’t told anyone except Sardelle yet, had he? Unless Ahnsung had been spying on them while they’d been walking. If so, he was good. She hadn’t sensed a thing. Jaxi hadn’t warned her, either.

  I was busy picking up pots and picture frames. And might I point out how lowly a task that is for someone with my talent? You’d think I was someone’s apprentice.

  Those years of demeaning tasks shouldn’t be so far back in your memory. You were barely past your apprenticeship when you stored yourself in the soulblade.

  Please, I’d been a full-fledged sorcerer for years.

  I did look up your history before we bonded, Sardelle pointed out. You hadn’t even finished your final papers.

  Because I knew I was dying by then. As if I was going to waste my last months writing papers when there were enemies to turn to ash.

  Ah, my apologies.

  Jaxi seemed to have come to terms with the shortness of her life long before Sardelle had met her, but every now and then, a sense of wistfulness or regret slipped past the sarcastic irreverence.

  “If you take her to Cofahre,” Ahnsung said, “I’ll hold you responsible for her.”

  “I consider myself responsible for all of my pilots,” Ridge said.

  “I also consider you responsible for the fact that she’s running around with that—” the man’s lips twisted into a much more open sneer than the earlier one, “—pirate.” Sardelle didn’t need a sorcerer’s talent for telepathy to know that wasn’t the first word that had come to his mind.