Shattered Past

by Lindsay Buroker

  “I don’t know about urgency, though I would of course like to complete my studies before more thieves show up, but I did find something potentially interesting. And unique. The bones didn’t all come from the same dragon. They’re from at least three. Dragons didn’t—don’t—die that easily. Usually only dragons kill dragons, but even that would be rare. They are the highest-level predator that has ever existed, but there have never been that many of them. We estimate that there were a thousand or less in the world even at the peak of their dissemination across all of the major continents. They also don’t seem to have always been here, if that makes sense. Some of my early research focused on trying to find the missing link, as we call it, the evolutionary ancestor to the dragon. I never did find that. Even with modern science and with the world largely explored, it’s been rare to find the fossilized remains of dragons. To find three—at least three—in one spot is remarkable and may, indeed, hint of a burial site, but we don’t have any prior evidence to suggest that dragons buried their kin in the equivalent of our cemeteries or mass graves.”

  Lilah paused, noticing Therrik looking at Kaika.

  “Was there an answer to my question in there?” he asked her.

  “I’m not sure, sir. I don’t speak scientist.”

  “The urgency is that this may be a first, historically speaking. I wish to check the site before it’s disturbed further. So the results won’t be compromised for my paper.” Lilah set her report on a mostly bare corner of his desk. “This can go back to... whoever decided to have me brought out here.” She didn’t want to say Ridge’s name, since the merest mention of it irritated Therrik. Besides, she wasn’t sure he had been the one ultimately responsible.

  “A paper,” Therrik said. “Ah.”

  She looked at his face, trying to determine if she was being mocked. These things sometimes went over her head. He hadn’t joined in with Kaika the evening before in making jokes about her stamina, but she didn’t know if that meant much.

  “Let me be blunt, Professor,” Therrik said. “All I need to know is if the fossils can be moved so my people can continue mining into the front of the mountain, which will apparently be a much more direct ingress point into the old witch stronghold than where we’ve been digging.” He waved toward the courtyard and perhaps the tram cars. “I also need to know if the miners would be in danger at all.”

  “Danger? From fossils? I can’t imagine how they would be dangerous.”

  He hesitated, then bunched his shoulders and said, “They’re not magical?”

  “Magical? Fossils?”

  “Dragon fossils. Dragons are magical, right? Not long ago, we had Cofah aircraft attacking the continent, and those aircraft were powered by dragon blood.”

  “Oh.” Lilah hadn’t heard anything about that, and it surprised her. She wasn’t one of those scientists to completely disregard the idea of magic and to say it didn’t exist, but she had also never encountered it. Certainly not in the fossil record. “If any of the dragon-related fossils I’ve looked at retained some degree of... magickness, I was never aware of it. I don’t know how you would tell.”

  “My fingers tingled when I held one of those bones,” Therrik said.

  Lilah shook her head. She hadn’t experienced any tingling.

  “Does... that sort of thing run in your family?” She hesitated to ask if he had ancestors with mysterious gifts, since that was grounds for hanging or drowning in rural areas of the country.

  “What sort of thing?” he asked, his voice taking on that growl again, and his eyes closing to slits.

  “Being able to sense magic. Or—” She wriggled her fingers, not wanting to come outright and say perform magic.

  “No,” he said—almost snarled, clenching his fists. “There aren’t any witches in my ancestry.” The pen in his hand snapped, and he cursed, ink smudged all over his fingers.

  Kaika shifted her weight.

  By the time Therrik picked up the pen, tossed it in the trash bin, and found a handkerchief to wipe his hands, the fury had faded from his face. “Something about those bones is odd,” he said calmly, meeting her eyes. “It’s not me.”

  “I’d like to see some more reports on dragon blood before accepting that dragon anatomy is inherently magical—I’d always assumed the feats they’re able to perform were a mental ability rather than anything integrated in their physical bodies. Even if their blood and bones had some magical element to them, I find it unlikely that it’s something that could be retained in fossil form. Not only do fossils take a minimum of ten thousand years to form, but as I said yesterday, little of the original bone remains.” She pointed over her shoulder toward the artifact room. “Those are essentially rocks at this point. I—”

  A crash came from somewhere outside of the room. Kaika whirled toward the door, her hand dropping to her pistol. Therrik vaulted around the desk and charged past them and into the hallway. He turned straight for the artifact room, as if he knew that the noise had originated from there. Maybe he had better ears than Lilah had.

  Therrik cursed. Lilah started after him, but Kaika held her back with a hand and went first. She peered down the hallway—it was empty—then entered the artifact room. Flapping noises came from within, and Lilah refused to remain out of the way. She trotted to the doorway and peeked inside.

  A broken lantern lay on a rug at the base of the table where she had been working. Therrik had removed his shirt and already smothered the flames, though the rug smoldered, smoke wafting into the air. He picked up the cracked lantern and frowned over at Lilah.

  “Sorry,” Lilah murmured. “I should have cut it out when it got light. I didn’t move any of the lanterns, though. That was left where you placed it last night. I don’t know how it could have fallen.”

  Therrik glanced toward the window, toward a crack in one of the panes. “Because odd things are happening around these bones.” He set the doused lantern on the table. “Come with me, will you? I want to show you my sword.”

  Kaika snorted. “Do you think that’s appropriate, sir? You’ve barely known her a day.”

  “Funny, Captain,” Therrik growled, striding toward the hallway.

  “Just noticing that you’ve managed to have your shirt off a lot around her,” she called after him.

  “I thought you tried not to irk him,” Lilah said, passing Kaika and following Therrik down the hallway. He took the stairs several at a time, quickly descending out of sight.

  “Sometimes, I can’t help myself. It’s a flaw.” One she did not regret much, judging by the smirk.

  Lilah hurried to catch up with Therrik since she didn’t know where his room was. Or where the armory was. Maybe that was the place one stored one’s sword.

  He waited at the bottom of the stairs, then led her toward the same hallway where Kaika and Lilah had claimed a room. He chose a door at the end that was not locked. He stepped inside, revealing not an armory but a bedroom, this one with a single bunk larger than the ones in the guest quarters. He opened the shutters on the window, and daylight flowed inside, brightening a dresser identical to the one in her room, a wooden chest at the base of the bed, and a few shelves on one wall. A couple of small framed portraits rested there, though Lilah’s eye was drawn to the wall next to the bed where several weapons hung: an intricately made Cofah scimitar from the Rogavian Dynasty, a morning star that had to be close to a thousand years old, and an early muzzle-loading rifle with a silver inlay etched with a dragon’s tail sweeping in and around it.

  Lilah stepped closer to the weapons while Therrik tossed the shirt he’d used on the lantern into a bin and opened a drawer to pull out a new one. There was only one sword. The scimitar was handsome, a work of art even, but she couldn’t imagine what it had to do with dragon fossils.

  “Not that,” Therrik said, tugging his shirt over his head.

  Lilah stole a glance at the ridges of his abdomen before he pulled the hem down. He didn’t seem to notice. He dropped to his knees and loo
ked under the bed.

  “Is this a King Menotok morning star?” Lilah asked. “It’s too old to be a replica.” She touched one of the spikes on the head of the weapon. “You can tell from the way these were attached, and the handle is tiger wood from the Zangier Islands. We were fighting a war during his reign and occupied the northern islands, so it was popular to get wood from there and incorporate it into the weaponry. Of course, the Cofah took those islands from us nine hundred years ago when they invaded the continent and drove us back to these very mountains.”

  Therrik had pulled a wooden box out from under the bed, but paused to stare up at her while she spoke.

  “Sorry,” she said, remembering that he hadn’t been impressed with her explanation of fossils. “I have a tendency to fall into teacher mode, whether it’s welcome or not. It’s odd, really, when you consider how little I actually enjoy teaching. I much prefer my lab and my books. And my old dead things, as my friend Tatia calls them. She’s a humanities professor.” She clamped her mouth shut, realizing that she was babbling and also that Therrik was still on one knee and staring up at her. Gaping, almost.

  “You know about weapons,” he stated. He wasn’t exactly incredulous, but he did sound surprised.

  “Historical ones, yes. I took all manner of history classes while pursuing my degree. And, uhm, some that I didn’t need for my degree. It took seven years for me to finish my studies, since I had eclectic interests and didn’t decide on paleontology right away.”

  Therrik rose to his feet, removed the morning star from the wall, and handed it to her. “This one isn’t just from the Menotok reign; it belonged to King Menotok himself. There was a Lord Knight Therrik who fought at his side. He died trying to repel the Cofah invaders and saving the king’s life. Menotok had his favorite weapon sent to the knight’s son as a thank you. It’s been in my family for centuries.”

  “The craftsmanship is lovely.” Lilah slid her hand along the smooth tiger wood, the exotic grain still vibrant after all these years. It had been well cared for.

  Therrik grew still, watching her hand, and she stopped, feeling self-conscious. And also aware of his closeness.

  He shrugged and picked up the case. “It cracks skulls open well too.”

  “Functionality is important, I understand.” She returned it to the wall. “Are you also related to Piontor Therrik, the dragon slayer from the Third Century Before Dominion?”

  “Another ancestor, yes.” Therrik unclasped the lid on the box, but not before she glimpsed the symbols carved on the top—words in Old Iskandian and also in Middle Dragon Script. That would make the case even older than the morning star. “If having noble blood still meant anything, I’d be serving at the king’s side right now, instead of being here.” He jerked his chin toward the window. “These days, anyone can become an officer, and the journalists are far more likely to fawn over some impoverished common fop who scrapes his way through the academy.”

  “To become a famous pilot?” Lilah asked, more amused than offended. She had several colleagues with titles that didn’t mean much anymore, and they, too, were often bitter about the way their family’s influence had eroded over the past couple of generations.

  Therrik had the grace to look a little sheepish as he glanced at her, probably realizing that she must have the same roots as Ridge.

  “An infamous pilot, I’d say. Here’s my sword.” He flipped open the lid to the case, glancing toward the doorway as he said sword. Kaika hadn’t come in, but her sleeve was visible as she stood guard in the hallway.

  She poked her head into the room, but not to make jokes about his weapon. “Sir, do you smell that? Seems like something might be burning out in the courtyard, and it’s gotten quiet. I’m going to check on it.”

  “Good,” Therrik said, waving for her to go.

  Her eyebrows twitched upward, but she did not comment further. She trotted out of sight.

  Lilah looked down at the sword nestled within a velvet-covered cutout. It wasn’t as aesthetically appealing as the weapons on the wall, but its craftsmanship was amazing. She ran a finger along the sleek side of the blade, the smoothness broken by more Old Iskandian and Middle Dragon Script engraved in the steel. Yes, steel. Even though it had to be at least two thousand years old, dating back to the era when smiths had made steel more by intuition than through any scientific understanding of the amounts of iron alloy and carbon needed, it was a perfect example.

  “You’re able to touch it,” he said, his voice coming from deep in his chest. It sounded like a rumble of approval.

  “Yes... Can’t you?”

  “Witches can’t. It zaps them. It glows when it’s around them or when it’s around dragons. It glows faintly around the fossils. That’s what I wanted to show you. When I had it up in the artifact room, the sword made me want to destroy them, the same way it makes me want to destroy witches and dragons.”

  She almost snorted at the idea of a sword having some kind of sentience, but she held it back. His face was utterly serious. Serious, but not as fearsome as it had been when they first met. The notion flashed through her mind that maybe he was a Commander Asylon, gruff and dangerous on the surface, but an honorable and loyal comrade underneath it all. She’d always found Asylon to be the most appealing of the characters in the series. All right, more than appealing. Even if it was silly to daydream about a fictional hero.

  “I’m glad you’re not a witch.” He sounded genuinely relieved, as if that had been a likely possibility.

  “I told you we don’t have any witches in the family. It’s an impressive blade.” Lilah lifted her hand from the engravings.

  “I had that translated,” Therrik said, surprising her by how close he was standing. His chest brushed her shoulder as he pointed at the symbols. “It’s supposed to be a warning to dragons that the sword is prepared to kill them.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. I recognize the language, but I’m not a philologist. I could make a rubbing and take it to a friend to verify it if you’re curious.”

  “I’d like that,” he said, his gaze shifting from the blade to her face. “Its name is Kasandral. I used it to kill a sorceress that was trying to kill the king. It can cut through magical defenses.”

  His eyes were intense, and she could feel the heat from his body. It occurred to her that his opinion of her, whatever it had been before, might have changed when she’d shown some interest in his weapons. She should probably step back and ask why he’d brought her down here instead of retrieving the sword by himself. She doubted he’d had anything salacious in mind, even if he was still gazing at her, his intensity somewhere between alarming and appealing. She couldn’t bring herself to move back. If anything, she found herself wondering what it would be like to touch someone with a body like that. Her husband had been as much of an academic as she, and her best friend in every way, but he hadn’t been someone who hurled weapons—or soldiers—around to improve his musculature. Before that... well, she’d not crossed paths with many military men during her academic studies.

  Still, Kaika’s warnings about his temper flitted through her mind, and she’d already seen for herself that he had a rough demeanor. She couldn’t imagine what he’d be like in a relationship. Those moods would be abysmal to deal with on a day-to-day basis. Of course, it wasn’t as if people didn’t have sex just for the sake of having sex, without thoughts of long-term dealings in mind. She wasn’t typically one of those people. She tended to think things through, imagine consequences and repercussions, rather than simply reacting on instinct. And in her youth, she’d spent so much time rebuffing men that it had become a reflex. Few eligible colleagues even approached her anymore.

  “I’ll take you out to the dig site,” Therrik murmured, his chest brushing her again. This time, it did more than brush—it stayed there, pressed against her shoulder.

  “Today?” she whispered, shifting toward him, drawn closer even as her mind told her to step back, that he should be avoided.
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br />   “Today,” he agreed, his hand coming to rest on her waist.

  She felt the heat of it through her shirt, heat that flared through her entire body. His head lowered, his lips parting, and she rose on her tiptoes, leaning against his chest in order to reach those lips. It was like leaning against a statue chiseled from marble, but much warmer than cold stone. Much more alluring.

  A hair’s breadth before their lips met, a shout came from the courtyard. Was that Captain Kaika?

  Therrik jerked away from Lilah, releasing her and racing for the door. He grabbed a rifle that leaned against the wall next to it, then disappeared into the hallway.

  The air around her seemed terribly cool after his departure. Disappointingly so. She shook away the memory of his warmth, telling herself that she barely knew him and that what she knew wasn’t heartening. It was a relief that they’d stopped, that they’d been stopped.

  Reminded that some trouble might be approaching, Lilah peered into the hallway. A few soldiers ran past, not sparing her a glance. Should she remain in the room? After the last of the soldiers passed, she decided to return to her quarters and grab her hunting rifle. Just in case.

  Before she had taken more than a step into the hallway, a boom came from somewhere outside. At least, she thought it came from outside. Tiles trembled beneath her feet, and something crashed to the floor in a nearby room. More shouts came from outside. Had they been attacked? And if so, by whom? Some enemy from the outside? Or prisoners trying to escape?

  A loud clang came from the courtyard, followed by more shouts. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good.

  As soon as the floor stopped trembling, Lilah ran to her room, grabbed her rifle, loaded it, and trotted for the front door. She did not rush out, since she wasn’t a soldier, and both Therrik and Kaika would berate her if she needlessly put herself in harm’s way, but she wanted to see what was going on. She pushed the door open with her shoulder while keeping her rifle in her hands, and she peered into the courtyard.