Balanced on the Blade's Edge

by Lindsay Buroker

  Come any closer and you’ll find out, she responded.

  The laughter in her mind rang dark and disquieting. You could do nothing against my pet. You’ll be even less trouble for me.

  Sardelle didn’t point out that she had been limited as to what she could do because she couldn’t let the soldiers know she was doing something. For one thing, she still had that problem. For another, it would be better for this foe to believe her weaker than she was.

  She sensed the man—and she could tell it was a man now, someone older and experienced—trying to dig deeper and read her mind. She bricked off her thoughts. She could have prevented him from contacting her further as well, at least at that moment, but she didn’t. Any intelligence she might gather from him could prove useful. And… maybe there was a part of her that wanted to hear from another telepath, another sorcerer. Even if he was the enemy and from an unfamiliar country and mage line. By default, she had more in common with him than with anyone here in the fort she was so determined to defend.

  Why are you protecting these people?

  Sardelle licked her lips, wondering if he had somehow slipped past her barriers to read her thoughts after all. No, it was a coincidence. Nothing more. She would have sensed him rummaging inside her mind. Besides, logic dictated that if he had to ask, he didn’t know.

  They are my people. Sardelle made sure not to think of Ridge as she sent the words across the wind. As the commander here, he would already be a target. No need to make him more of one.

  Impossible. All of the Iskandian sorcerers were killed long ago.

  Sardelle was glad nobody was watching her, or paying attention to her at all—Ridge had led a team through the gates on snowshoes, and everyone else was keeping the miners in the shafts or watching from the walls—for pain must have flashed across her face. She had been certain there would be some survivors. She was tempted to reach out to Jaxi, to ask how the soulblade read the situation, but not while this other sorcerer was monitoring. The last thing she wanted to do was make some enemy aware of the artifacts buried within the mountain.

  Even if some ancestors of yours survived, the enemy sorcerer went on, I don’t understand why you would defend these people. They were the ones responsible for the purge. You must know that.

  You cannot blame a man for the faults of his ancestors.

  Please. Do you think these people would be any different? They shoot, drown, and burn anyone with a hint of dragon blood. Nothing has changed. I’m surprised they haven’t… ah, they don’t know, do they? They don’t know who you are.

  Sardelle didn’t respond to the smugness in the voice. How proud he was to have figured it out. Twit.

  I will not share your secret. He chuckled. Though I will be shocked if you succeed in keeping it. To always hide your true nature… it must be painful.

  What do you care?

  Now? Nothing. But I… could care. You could leave these people. Come with me.

  To what end?

  I’ll take you to where the others of our kind live. You would be more comfortable there.

  Sardelle swallowed hard at an ache in her throat. She did want to find out where other sorcerers might be, but… if they were the types to join in with conquering armies, did she want anything to do with that? Of course, just because one man had made that choice did not mean they all did.

  Or… The sorcerer’s words grew softer, almost husky in her mind. You could come with me.

  What are you offering?

  A union. There are few left with dragon’s blood, even fewer whose lines haven’t been diluted to near worthlessness through the centuries. Those who remain rarely produce offspring when they breed with each other. The blood is too close, too intertwined.

  Sardelle found herself gaping at the distant ship, which was still hovering over the snowy peak. Had she just received an offer to breed? And from an utter stranger? How romantic.

  He would probably say anything to get her away from the fort. Maybe he considered her more of a problem than he had let on.

  For a brief, immature moment, she thought of sending him an image of herself entwined with Ridge, but that would be idiotic. All she said was, I’ll keep your offer in mind.

  Do so. It will be a shame to kill you when we attack.

  Uh huh. And when will that be?

  Soon. Make your decision soon.

  The enemy ship turned and drifted out of view, heading back to whatever docking space it had carved out in these inhospitable mountains.

  Sardelle climbed the stairs to see if the crash site was in view and if Ridge had found any survivors. What she witnessed made her suspect he wouldn’t be meeting her in the library that night.

  * * *

  It took Ridge and two other men to pull open the dented metal door of the gondola. The shouts they had heard when they first approached had stopped. He hoped that wasn’t a sign of injured people falling unconscious—or worse. Unfortunately, he and the six-man team he’d brought out had needed to dig away a lot of snow to reach the door. The windows at the front of the enclosed cabin were still buried, so nobody could see in. The frame inside the balloon had been smashed as well, the gas bag ripped and torn, with shreds smothering the rest of the craft. In short, the crash site was a mess.

  He was relieved when a cranky, “It’s about time,” snapped out of the darkness as soon as the door opened. His relief faded somewhat when the follow-up was, “Get us out of here, you buffoons.”

  Ridge was about to state his name and rank, in the event that might result in friendly relations, but the speaker added, “I’m not sure the pilot is going to make it,” in a softer tone.

  “Oster, Rav.” Ridge waved for them to follow, then crawled inside first. The only light came from the doorway, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. “I’m Colonel Zirkander. Who’s barking at me and where’s the injured man?”

  “He’s up front,” came a woman’s voice—and Ridge gaped into the darkness in surprise. Who would bring a woman up here unless she was one of the prisoners? Or maybe this supply ship had been carrying prisoners as well as goods? “He was trying to keep us from landing hard. He wouldn’t pull away from the controls, even when—” Her voice tightened in something close to a sob. She sounded young.

  “As to who’s barking, Colonel, you’re speaking with General Melium Nax. You can call me sir.”

  Great. Ridge had heard the man’s name spoken before. Usually in a fearful tone.

  “Yes, sir.” He could make out the general’s form now—he seemed to be comforting the other passenger, the woman—though Ridge was focused on crawling into the smashed cockpit. “Rav, is that you behind me? Do you see the pilot? We’re going to have to pry that busted panel off his legs to pull him out.”

  “Yes, sir.” The burly infantryman brushed past him. “Hurrying.”

  Ridge patted about, trying to locate the pilot’s throat to take his pulse. He encountered a lot of blood. Hells. The man had some ripped metal beam thrusting into his chest. And no pulse.

  “Never mind, Rav,” Ridge said softly. “There’s no hurry.”

  Behind him, the general sighed. The woman sniffed and wiped her face.

  “Let’s get you two out of here,” Ridge said. “I’m sure you’ve sustained injuries as well. I’ll show you to the medic.”

  “You’ll show me everything, young man. I’m here to check up on you.”

  “Yes… I gathered that. I’m honestly more concerned about the Cofah right now. Rav, have the rest of the men unload this ship. We need the supplies, whatever survived the crash. And cut this poor pilot out as well, please.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ridge climbed out ahead of the others, offering the general a hand. The white-haired, stern-faced man looked like the no-nonsense sort—also known as the utterly humorless sort—and Ridge doubted that they would get along. Oh, well. He had to admit he wouldn’t mind handing over fort operations to someone else, at least while the Cofah threat remained, so he cou
ld focus on defense and getting that flier off the ground. The general had a few scars on his hands and face. He must have seen some battles, so he should have useful advice. So long as his scars hadn’t come from street toughs he hadn’t been able to bribe with pies.

  The thought brought Sardelle to mind. Seven gods, how was he going to explain her to a new commanding officer? Captain Heriton wouldn’t have to send a secret report anywhere to find someone to inform.

  “Careful, Vespa,” the general said to the woman, who was climbing out now.

  Without thinking about it, Ridge offered her a hand. The general scowled—if he was the husband, he was at least thirty years older than the woman, maybe forty—but she beamed as she accepted the offering. She was attractive with a delicate nose and pointed chin, and lush blonde hair mostly tamed by a braid, though several wisps had come free in the crash. She didn’t appear injured, though when she stepped into the snow, she floundered and ended up leaning against Ridge, grabbing his parka to stay upright.

  “Oh, it’s deep here.”

  It wasn’t that deep, but Ridge said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Vespa Nax is my daughter, Colonel.” The general scowled at Ridge, as if he were the one who had grabbed her.

  “Yes, sir.” Ridge extricated himself from the embrace. “Why, ah, I wouldn’t have expected you—or anyone—to bring a woman here.” Ridge wasn’t usually so circumspect with his superior offices, but he had never met Nax before and didn’t feel as comfortable mouthing off to him as with those in his chain of command. Maybe because he had something to lose here. Back home… he knew they weren’t going to take him out of the air for long. Here? He was going to have to tread lightly if he didn’t want Sardelle locked up.

  The general scowled—it seemed to be his normative state. “Vespa, Professor Vespa Nax, I should have said, is a geologist. The king suggested I bring her along to study the rock formations in the mountain and determine where more crystals might be found. We lost two fliers in ocean fights not two weeks ago. That’s two crystals lost. Production must be increased.”

  Ridge had been about to lead the way back to the fort, but he froze. “Which squadron?” Not his people… He didn’t want to hear about any downed pilots, but especially not those who flew under him.

  “Which squadron, sir.”

  Was the bastard kidding? Even being circumspect, Ridge was going to have trouble with the general, he could tell already.

  Nax pointed a finger at his nose. “I know your reputation, Zirkander. I’ve seen you strutting around HQ like everyone there should bow down to your brilliance, but you’re an insubordinate nobody. Your family is full of drunks and delinquents. How you got into the academy, I can’t even imagine. Must have been some female recruiting officer falling for a handsome face.”

  At that statement, Ridge was all too aware of the man’s daughter looking on, her expression somewhere between surprise and exasperation. Ridge didn’t mind getting his butt scrubbed with the porcupine brush, but he always hated those officers who did it in front of others. Vespa didn’t matter that much, but the men unloading the dirigible—men working very hard to pretend they weren’t hearing this—were soldiers Ridge might have to lead into battle later. They needed to respect him, not think he was some joke around HQ.

  “I don’t know how you got promoted this far,” Nax went on, “but if you give me any shit, I’m going to knock your ass back to lieutenant.”

  “Wonderful,” Ridge said. “Now, if you’re done with that speech, which I get the feeling you were rehearsing all the way here, I’d appreciate it if you told me which squadron—which men—went down. Sir.” And so his plans to be circumspect lasted all of three minutes. As they said in the academy, no battle plan survived past first contact.

  “Hells if I know,” the general growled. “All you dragon kissers are alike. Now, if you’ll show me to my office, I’d like to know what’s been going on here since you took command.” He scoffed and walked away—the black stone walls of the fort were visible through the snow, so he couldn’t get lost. Ridge didn’t hurry after him.

  “I didn’t realize my father had met you before,” Professor Vespa said.

  “He hasn’t. At least not so far as I know.”

  “Oh, odd. Usually he reserves that level of vitriol for lobbyists, liberals, and his most loathed enemies.”

  “He must know I don’t vote conservative at the holiday costume contests.”

  Vespa chuckled. Ridge hadn’t been trying to be funny. Oh, well. “This way, ma’am. I’ll show you to the, uh, guest quarters.” Those being some dusty, unused rooms in the officers’ billets.

  “Thank you. And, Colonel? Can I call you Ridge?”

  “Yes,” he said though he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to breed any sort of familiarity with the general’s daughter. Grumpy old Nax was going to be trouble enough without that. What had the king been thinking sending her out here among the hordes of horny men? An image of him in the cave with Sardelle flashed into his mind, and he flushed. Horny men indeed.

  “Good. Ridge, then. It was Wolf Squadron. It was in the newspapers.”

  “Wolf.” All of his indignation from the general’s treatment drained out of Ridge. That was his team. What did self-righteous superior officers matter if his people were back there dying? “Do you remember the names?”

  “It was a man and a woman. Dash and… Ann? Orhn?”

  Ridge stopped in the middle of the trail, his boots suddenly feeling like lead weights on his feet. He closed his eyes. “Ahn.”

  “They flew with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.” The professor put a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to talk about it or to share a drink tonight, I would be happy to do so.”

  The woman’s familiarity surprised him. Up ahead, the general had stopped and was scowling back. Ridge resisted the urge to push her hand away. He forced himself to say, “Thank you,” and started walking again, knowing the hand would fall away on its own.

  The snow had lightened, and numerous men were watching from the ramparts. He hoped they were paying as much attention to the sky as they were to him and the newcomers—the Cofah ship had disappeared, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be back. He spotted Sardelle up there, the breeze tugging at her long black hair, and hoped she hadn’t seen the overly familiar professor putting her hands on him. Something about the way she turned away as soon as he looked in her direction made him suspect she had.

  Chapter 10

  The snores reverberated from the ceiling, walls, and floors of the women’s barracks. Whoever had designed the building should have considered carpets, curtains, tapestries, or at least something with sound-dampening properties. The decorator probably hadn’t known many women who were so nasally challenged. Sardelle hadn’t until she arrived here. Thus she lay awake in the darkness, listening to the audible slumber of tired women. She was tired herself, since she had spent the day in the laundry room. Though the other women had treated her like a leper since she hadn’t been in there in so long and had been, as they called it, kissing balls and freeloading, it had seemed a good place to hide from this General Nax, who had been dragging Ridge all over the fort, making angry gestures and yelling.

  Sardelle had instantly disliked the man, even though she hadn’t been in the same room with him yet. Captain Heriton had shown up at some point, trailing along on what appeared to be an inspection. She had stayed out of his sight, not wanting him to be reminded of her. She found it highly unlikely this general would be someone who would make a deal with her when her sword was discovered.

  She hadn’t figured out who that woman was yet either, except that she was young and pretty and seemed just as out of place here as Sardelle. She was obviously Someone Special though, for the soldiers had all been bowing and smiling at her whenever she came around. She didn’t think all of that could be the result of good looks.

  After lying awake for an hour, Sardelle crawled out of bed and p
ut on her boots and clothing warm enough for a trek across the courtyard. She didn’t expect Ridge to be in the library, or even thinking about her, but she couldn’t sleep anyway, so on the off chance he was there…

  He’s there.

  Sardelle, in the process of sticking her feet into her boots, nearly tipped over. Jaxi had been silent all day, probably sharing her concern about being discovered by that sorcerer.

  Yes, I’ll lie low whenever their ship is around. I didn’t like that smarmy know-it-all. Jaxi sniffed.

  By lying low, you mean listening in on our telepathic conversation? Sardelle dressed more quickly, affected far more by the first thing Jaxi had said than by anything else.

  I have to keep abreast of what’s happening. I assure you, he didn’t sense me.

  That’s good. Sardelle tugged on her parka. When you said ‘he’s there,’ did you mean—

  I’d hate to be wielded by some smarmy mage stinking of the jungle and joining in with conquerors.

  I’m glad you also didn’t like him, but what I really want to know is—

  Yes, yes, your boyfriend is waiting for you. Though I’m not sure sex is what he has in mind.

  Sardelle strode outside, still buttoning her parka. The snow had stopped and the sky had cleared, though the air was cold enough to freeze the hair out of her nostrils.

  An attractive image. I recommend you don’t share it with your lover.

  Thank you for the advice, Jaxi.

  There were fires in the watchtowers and braziers burning on the ramparts. Though it was late, the soldiers strode about, their eyes toward the sky. Yes, with the clearing weather, the Cofah might think it time to try a new attack. She swept the skies with her senses, though she didn’t slow down from her brisk walk toward the library building. She didn’t feel anyone out there. Good.

  The library was only one room, upstairs in a building dedicated to equipment storage and welding. For a moment, Sardelle worried the front door would be locked, but it wasn’t. There weren’t any lamps lit in the open bay downstairs, and she had to use her senses to pick her way past everything from ore carts being repaired to giant flywheels from the machines that operated the tram. There was usually a clearer path to the second-floor stairs, but maybe things had been moved about for the general’s inspection.