The dragon increased his speed, outpacing the flier as he turned and headed away from Galmok Mountain.
Therrik thumped Ridge on the shoulder. “You’re letting it get away.”
“I think the more accurate statement is that he’s letting us live. For the moment.” Ridge slumped back in his seat, oddly exhausted from the brief battle. Maybe having to deal with that dragon’s power blasting him in the brain was the reason for his weariness. “I made a deal with it. We need to find an artifact.”
“What do you mean you made a deal with it? I didn’t hear anything.”
“It spoke in my head.”
Therrik thumped him on the shoulder again, this time harder. “You made a deal with it? You don’t deal with the enemy, Zirkander. Even you cloud humpers should know that. It’s in the regs.”
“I was just buying time. Assuming Duck found the others, General Ort’s airship should be on the way. Along with Ahn and your sword.” Remembering that he was the ranking officer and that he didn’t have to explain himself to Therrik, he ended with, “And that’s General Cloud Humper, to you. You forget it, and next time I will take you close enough to try to shove dynamite up the dragon’s nose. Just don’t expect me and my flier to stick around while you do it.”
When Therrik did not respond with the expected grumpy comeback, Ridge glanced over his shoulder. He promptly wished he hadn’t. The colonel’s breakfast was finding its way onto his back seat.
“I wasn’t even flying upside down,” Ridge grumbled, turning back toward the outpost.
The dragon was just visible in the distance, following the spine of the Ice Blades. He swooped down behind a distant peak and disappeared from sight. Ridge had a feeling he wasn’t going far and that he would be keeping an eye on his progress here. Twenty-four hours to find a little crystal in a giant mountain. As Ridge glided toward the outpost, he wished the vomit in his back seat was the worst of his problems.
• • • • •
As the two fliers followed the mountains, leaving the airship behind, Tolemek cast forlorn looks at the craft cruising beside the one he shared with Lieutenant Pimples. He had assumed he would fly with Cas, but she had come up on deck with that sword in its box once again, and he had realized it might not be a good idea. Ort had ordered her to pilot Captain Kaika, and after a glance at Tolemek, Cas had not objected.
Since she was not casting forlorn looks back at him, Tolemek made himself focus on the route ahead. He had never been to Galmok Mountain, or to many places in Iskandia besides the capital. The Ice Blades were majestic, but daunting, too, especially now. The day had started out sunny, what little he had seen of it through his porthole, but it was growing progressively cloudier as they turned deeper into the mountains. In the distance, darker clouds promised a storm.
“Coordinates say we should be getting close,” Pimples announced to the communication crystal.
“I’ll take your word for it,” came Cas’s response. “I’ve never been to the mines.”
“None of us have. It wouldn’t be much of a secret outpost if we all took training trips there every month.”
Tolemek wondered if Cas would appreciate it if he smacked Pimples for being lippy. Probably not. Lippiness seemed to be a requirement among the Wolf Squadron pilots.
The fliers curved to follow the contours of one of the highest peaks in the range, one blanketed in ice and snow, the lower half invisible beneath clouds wreathing the mountain. They were almost upon the outpost before it came into view, a stone-walled fort hunkering at one end of a valley surrounded by mountains on all sides. Evergreen trees grew in much of the valley, surviving despite the altitude, but the area around the outpost had been cleared. It looked desolate. If Tolemek hadn’t seen people moving about inside the walls, he might have judged the outpost an abandoned ruin, based on the damage it had taken. As the fliers descended, that damage grew more apparent, with wooden buildings destroyed and everything else charred black.
His stomach sank as he thought about how he had sent Tylie here. A soulblade wasn’t worth being fried by a dragon. He should have kept her with him on the airship. No, the airship hadn’t been any safer. He should have left her with Zirkander’s mother. Except that Zirkander’s mother did not believe in magic and might not be such a friendly host if she realized what Tylie was. Damn it, why didn’t he know more people that could watch after her? Did she ever wish she were back home, still living with their parents and doing normal things with her friends? She ought to be finishing school and ogling cute boys, not flying around on the back of a dragon and being a target for whatever person—or sword—took a dislike to sorceresses.
Another feeling of unease nibbled at him at that thought. For the first time, Cas—and Kasandral—would be in the same space as Tylie. The idea of that sword making Cas attack Tylie twisted his gut into knots.
He touched the ceramic jars in his pocket, wondering if the contents truly had any chance of hurting the dragon. He wanted so much to make it so Cas would never need to take the blade out of its box again. That was the only way to keep Sardelle and Tylie safe. Maybe he could get Phelistoth to give him a dragon scale for a final test. Of course, even if his formula worked, he still needed to come up with a delivery mechanism. A sling with a grenade on the end wouldn’t likely catch a dragon. He needed a way past the creature’s shields too.
“No sign of the dragon yet,” Pimples said. “That’s good. Maybe it got bored and left.”
“Land in the courtyard,” Cas said. “There’s not room on that roof.”
Roof? Tolemek squinted and saw what she was talking about, a flat roof on a stone building that appeared relatively free of damage and that held two other fliers. Duck’s and Zirkander’s? Tolemek hoped it boded well that both craft were there.
“A lot of people down there,” Pimples said.
“They’re all clustered around those doors,” Cas said. “Switch to thrusters before you cross over the wall, and you’ll be fine.”
Tolemek studied the doors Cas had mentioned. There were four different sets of them sunken into the earth itself, all of them accessible from the courtyard but from different parts of it. Piles of dirt rested to the sides of them, and small towers rose up at the entrances with cables extending through holes in the doors and disappearing under them. One of the towers had been knocked over, its metal supports torn from a cement foundation. All of the men were gathered around a tower that still stood, with the doors next to it yawning open, revealing a dark shaft that descended diagonally into the mountain. As the fliers approached, a train of ore carts rose out of the shaft, and men with shovels jumped to unload them. Tolemek couldn’t imagine that the soldiers were worried about ore or power crystals as they recovered from the dragon attack. There had to be another reason they were pulling up rock and dirt, and he couldn’t think of anything innocuous.
Cas and Pimples landed in a quiet corner of the courtyard.
Scarcely waiting for the flier to stop, Tolemek jumped out. He had spotted Zirkander during the landing—he was one of the men with shovels—and he strode straight toward him.
“Tylie?” he asked, gripping Zirkander’s arm and stopping him mid-shovel.
For once, Zirkander’s face was devoid of humor. “She’s down there with Sardelle and Phelistoth and a lot of trapped soldiers and miners.”
Tolemek edged closer to the open shaft, peering into the darkness. Far below, a few torches burned, the lights not illuminating anything at this distance. Clangs and scrapes filtered up from the depths.
“What happened?”
“Cave-in. But Sardelle and Jaxi are keeping a barrier up. They’re protected for the moment, and we’re trying to reach them before, uhm.”
“Before they get too tired and can’t hold it up anymore,” Tolemek said grimly.
Zirkander shrugged helplessly.
Tolemek closed his eyes, his regrets rushing back to him. He should have kept Tylie with him. “How did this happen?”
“I’m not sure. They
were going to find a soulblade and dig it out, but something happened. The cave-in. Then the other dragon showed up, making things worse.” Zirkander stepped around Tolemek and scooped another pile of dirt out of the ore cart. “Grab a shovel if you want to help. No, wait.” He lowered the tool and spun toward the fliers. “You didn’t bring Captain Kaika, by chance, did you?”
“Yes, she flew with Cas.” Tolemek pointed—Cas, Kaika, and Pimples were walking toward them.
“Here.” Zirkander thrust the shovel at him, then ran across the courtyard toward the group.
Tolemek stared at the implement, then down the tram shaft again, and he realized what Zirkander had to be thinking. Explosives. Would that help free Tylie and Sardelle? Or would it only cause more rock to fall, enough to bury them permanently?
Chapter 13
Heat turned the rocks red and then into rivers of steaming magma. Under the influence of Phelistoth’s magic, the lava flowed away, sometimes against gravity, and melted its way into side alcoves before hardening and leaving a narrow tunnel free. Sardelle couldn’t watch for long—the light was too intense—but she checked Phelistoth’s progress often as he worked, burrowing his way back toward the main passage. She kept hoping they would encounter other people who had survived the cave-in, and she wanted to make sure to pull them out before the dragon melted them like so much rock.
There’s nobody left alive down here, Sardelle, Jaxi said. Not on these levels. Some men are up higher, stuck because the bottom third of the tram shaft is buried.
Logically, Sardelle knew that, but she did not want to accept it. Jaxi was maintaining the barrier around them now, so Sardelle had been free to check with her senses several times. She hadn’t found any other life on what remained of their level, but she kept hoping that she had been mistaken, that she was too weary from all she had done, and that her senses were simply dulled.
They’re not. I’m sorry. There are people three levels above that are still alive. Only some of their tunnels collapsed, those right over where Phelistoth was digging.
Jaxi, Sardelle cried silently. A big part of her wanted to sink to her knees in the middle of the tunnel and cry out loud. It wasn’t that those miners had been paragons of humanity with long and fulfilling lives that they could have lived, but they had still been human beings, and now they were dead because of a quest she had agreed to, one she had been leading. And the soldiers stationed on these levels—some of them must have been good men, just doing their duties. Like Ridge. He had been a soldier here once, after all.
It’s not your fault, and you weren’t leading. The lout was.
Sardelle looked toward Phelistoth, who stood only a couple of feet away as he continued to melt a tunnel for them. His face was set with concentration, and sweat gleamed on his human skin.
He regrets that, I think, Sardelle said. He knows he thought too highly of himself and his skills. He believed he could get those artifacts and the soulblade. He’s not pleased that his hubris resulted in this.
Because he was injured or because he actually cares what happens to puny humans? And soulblades.
He cares what happens to Tylie.
So, we’re just lucky that we were standing next to her.
Technically, she’s lucky that she was standing next to us. I think Phelistoth realizes that and is appreciative of the help we gave her. And him.
Jaxi made a noise in Sardelle’s head, a noise somewhere between a snort and a fart. I don’t know where you’re getting this. I can’t read him at all.
I can’t usually, either, but when I—when Tylie and I were healing him, he let me feel something of his emotions.
Nothing I’ve seen suggests dragons have emotions other than arrogance and pride.
Sardelle shrugged. She was too tired to defend Phelistoth, and she wasn’t certain that she should. Still, she was glad they were down here with him instead of with the gold dragon.
For a moment, Phelistoth looked over at her, and she felt naked beneath that intense gaze, certain he knew all of her thoughts. If this was what it was like for mundane humans when faced with sorcerers, she could understand why magic made them uncomfortable. Unable to shield their minds, they could never know when someone with power was looking into their thoughts.
Phelistoth turned away, and the air heated again, the passage glowing red as more rocks melted.
Move your shield forward, he spoke into their minds. We can advance farther.
The tunnel appeared stable where he had melted the way, the walls and floor smoother now, the rock cooling unnaturally quickly so that they could walk on it. Sardelle kept her barrier up and waved for the soldiers to stay with them. They advanced about thirty feet, reaching the main passage. The lanterns that had been out there had been crushed—or melted. Maybe both. She didn’t see any sign of the two soldiers they had left behind, but she was more relieved by that than disturbed. She shuddered at the idea of a pair of smoldering boots on the ground with nothing left above them.
That’s not far from the truth, I’m afraid. Most of the people on higher levels have made their way to the tram chambers, but they’re blocked in. Some of them are sitting down to wait. Oddly, some of them aren’t.
What do you mean? Sardelle asked.
Some of them are making their way through a natural cavern formation behind the tram shaft. It spans a few levels. It doesn’t look like they can go up, but about a dozen are coming down here.
Why? Don’t they realize the tram shaft would still be blocked and that they won’t be able to escape from down here, either?
Maybe they’re after you.
What, as revenge for this mess? Sardelle asked. How could they know we were the ones responsible? Sardelle looked at Phelistoth.
I only know that the one leading has an image of you fixed firmly in his determined brain.
I suppose nobody told these people that a dragon was coming down and that he was responsible?
I don’t believe so. The only ones here who know what Phelistoth is are the two soldiers with you, since they saw him in his real form.
Sardelle walked forward a few steps, as Phelistoth waved for them to advance again. She doubted the miners could pose much of a threat to them, though perhaps that was a cocky assumption, given how tired she and Jaxi were. Usually, they maintained a barrier for a few minutes, the duration of a battle, not for hours, and not against intense heat and tons of rocks. Still, she worried more that the miners would put themselves into a position where Phelistoth might kill them, either inadvertently, by melting nearby rocks, or intentionally, because they represented a threat.
There’s no way we can stop him if he decides to do that, Jaxi thought. Unless you’re able to give him a very distracting rash on his nether regions.
I don’t think that would work on scales.
He’s not scaled now, Jaxi pointed out.
I don’t want to risk turning him into an enemy.
Even if he’s going to kill a bunch of humans?
Sardelle grimaced. Let’s wait to worry about that until later—maybe we can figure out a way to keep the miners out of our path. Or maybe we can ask Tylie to convince Phelistoth to let them live. Sardelle looked at Tylie. She appeared very young, her face smeared with dirt and streaked with tears, as she tagged along, a couple of steps behind Phelistoth. Sardelle hadn’t noticed her crying. She must have been doing so quietly. Because she was afraid? Or tired? Or knew something Sardelle didn’t know? She has a gentle soul, she added to Jaxi. She won’t want people killed.
If she’s being threatened, she may not be able to convince Phelistoth otherwise. He’s been quite protective of her.
I know. Sardelle waved for the soldiers to take a couple of steps forward, as she pushed the barrier farther up the passage. What’s Ridge doing? Is he all right? Sardelle longed to change topics and also to let him know they were safe. Sort of. She kept trying to push through the blazing energy that radiated from Phelistoth’s aura to reach the surface and find him, but sh
e hadn’t managed yet.
Making deals with dragons.
What?
I’m not sure on the details yet. Right now, they’re working to clear the tram shaft. If Phelistoth can get us close, maybe we can get out of here.
“This is the main tunnel, isn’t it?” Sergeant Jenneth asked, staring at the smooth waves of newly hardened rock that had replaced the chiseled boulders from before.
“Yes,” Sardelle said.
“We left Chance and Moz back here. Is there any way to tell if they made it out?”
“They didn’t,” Tylie whispered. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes. “None of them did.”
Sergeant Jenneth’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
The private eyed her and circled his heart with two fingers, the traditional gesture for warding off magic.
“What about up above? In the fort? Is the general and everyone up there all right?” Jenneth asked.
“For now,” Sardelle said.
“The outpost wasn’t affected by our problem,” Tylie said, “but the other dragon is up there. He was the one causing those other quakes. He’s stopped attacking now. Phel isn’t sure why.”
Deals with dragons, Jaxi said again.
“Phel?” Jenneth asked, though he was looking at the back of Phelistoth’s silver-haired human head, so he must have guessed who they were talking about.
Care to elaborate, Jaxi?
Tylie nodded to Jenneth and touched Phelistoth’s back.
The sergeant’s gaze lowered to his butt, as if he was imagining the dragon tail sticking out from that backside. He joined his comrade in making gestures to ward off evil magic.
I’m talking to Ridge now, Jaxi said. If you’re done eyeing Phelistoth’s butt, I can share the details.
I wasn’t the one eyeing anything.
Too late. I’ve already informed Ridge that you were considering another man’s anatomy.
Because you know he must be worried up there and you’re attempting to alleviate his anxiety by joking with him, right?
Actually, I was trying to distract you from your anxiety. He needs to know… Huh.
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