Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Colonel Therrik?” Cas blurted, crouching to pat his chest. She could barely make out his form in the haze and couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed.

  He groaned. His clothing was tattered, and her hand encountered blood.

  “He’s getting away!” someone yelled. “Somehow, he got the locked gate open.”

  “Get a wagon! He must be going to the harbor!”

  Not sure if Therrik would regain his senses in time to help, Cas holstered her pistol and grabbed Kasandral. She hated that blade and had no interest in wielding it, but it would be far more useful against a shaman than a firearm.

  Hunt! it seemed to cry into her mind as her fingers wrapped around her hilt.

  She shuddered. She knew it wasn’t sentient and didn’t talk, not the way Sardelle’s soulblade did, but it definitely had a strange sentience of a sort, and right away, she felt it tugging her toward the gate and beyond. It wanted to lead her to the shaman.

  “Fine with me,” she muttered and jumped to her feet. “I’m borrowing your sword, Colonel,” she said, in case he was conscious enough to understand, then sprinted away.

  She thought she heard a combination groan and grunt that sounded like a protest, but she couldn’t wait to see if Therrik roused himself.

  As she raced through the open gate, she was in time to glimpse someone running off the winding road that led down into the city. The figure veered toward the slope. That slope was comprised of massive black boulders that formed a large part of the hill the castle perched atop, the ancient stone structure overlooking the capital from this high point on the north end of the harbor. It had to be close to a thousand feet down to the water from the spot where that man—it was too dark to see details of his clothing, but she assumed it was the shaman—had veered off the road.

  Cas ran after him, dreading the idea of scrambling down those huge jagged rocks in the dark, but maybe she could catch up to him before he made it far. He had to think that he was fleet of foot enough to beat the steam vehicles that would take the winding road down to the harbor.

  “So am I,” she growled as she ran.

  The shaman had disappeared from sight, but she knew where he’d gone off the road. Kasandral flared with a hungry green glow. The sword also knew.

  As soon as she reached the spot, Cas ran out on the rocks. The blade’s glow lit the way, and she spotted the shaman less than fifty feet away.

  He glanced back at her as she navigated down the boulders as quickly as she could, and she braced herself for some magical attack. Kasandral should protect her from a direct attack, but he could make the rocks shift under her feet, and that would be just as effective at slowing her down.

  Instead, he ran out to the end of the spit of boulders he was on and leaped into the air.

  Cas halted and gaped. The slope wasn’t sheer enough that anyone could jump out and land in the water—besides, a fall from this height would kill a person, even if he did land in the harbor.

  But he didn’t fall as one would expect. Some magic buoyed him up, and he floated downward, skimming above the rocks.

  Cas groaned. Of course, she should have guessed a shaman could levitate his way out of danger. It would only take him a minute to get to the bottom instead of the ten or more it would take her to climb down. She had no hope of catching him.

  Unless…

  Cas hefted Kasandral over her shoulder and took aim, as if she were preparing to hurl an axe at a stump. She was known for her marksmanship and could hit targets with rocks as well as with bullets, but the shaman had already descended halfway to the bottom, and the sword wasn’t balanced for throwing. Still, she had to take the chance. It wasn’t like the shaman could pick up the magic-hating blade.

  Sighting along her other arm for assistance, Cas lined up her shot and threw the sword. It flared with even more light as it spun through the air. She held her breath, afraid she hadn’t timed the shaman’s descent well—or that he could speed up at will—and that it would clank uselessly off the boulders near him.

  But the blade flashed green as it appeared to strike his magical barrier right above his head. He had time to throw his arms up and jump to the side before the blade penetrated it, but Cas thought it still clipped him in the shoulder. A pained scream rose up from below, seeming to confirm that.

  She smiled grimly, glad to repay the wound Tolemek had received to his shoulder.

  Alas, the blade did not embed itself in the shaman. After striking the man, Kasandral fell to the rocks next to him. The sword continued to glow, but it couldn’t do anything more by itself.

  The shaman spun, the green glow coming from beside him highlighting the anger on his face, and Cas realized she was vulnerable now. He threw his arm up, fingers splayed, and a huge ball of fire roared up the mountainside toward her.

  Cas dropped to her stomach between two boulders. The heat made the attack feel like an inferno roaring past her, and she feared all her neck hair would be scorched off. Fortunately, the brunt of it missed her.

  Hoping the boulders protected her somewhat, she yanked out her pistol. Maybe his protective barrier would still be down.

  Before she could take aim, the rocks rumbled and shifted around her. Thunderous snaps and cracks came from the top of the slope. Horrified, she realized he’d started a landslide. Right above her.

  “Where are you going?” Angulus demanded when Ridge ran out one of the side doors of the castle and headed straight for the rear yard. Angulus frowned at gunfire and smoke at the other end, near the front gate.

  “To where I can be most useful,” Ridge said, having a hunch that the continued fire meant the shaman was protecting himself, the same way Sardelle did when people fired at her. He pointed toward one of the king’s two fliers, both waiting on the landing pad in the back. “The air.”

  The flier bullets wouldn’t be any more useful than those from guns if the shaman had a barrier up, but he could definitely do something about the Dakrovian’s escape submarine. If he meant to board it, then it had to be above the surface somewhere. Ridge didn’t know how much of it would be visible, but he hoped his bullets would cut through the water and hit something critical. If he had to, he would crash the flier into the submarine to damage it enough to keep it from operating.

  “Fine,” Angulus said. “I’m going with you.”

  “Probably not a good idea, Sire,” Ridge called over his shoulder as he raced around the corner of the building and the fliers came into sight. His plan to crash the flier was a last resort, but he definitely shouldn’t fly anywhere with the king if he had that in mind.

  To his surprise, two other people were running toward the fliers, Captain Kaika and Lieutenant Pimples.

  Technically, Kaika was pulling Pimples toward the fliers. He gripped a stuffed pastry in one hand and didn’t look like he had flying in mind. A small satchel flapped against Kaika’s hip as she tugged him along.

  “Ma’am,” Pimples blurted, food still in his mouth. “I’ll come. I just need a second to chew.”

  “Chew while you fly.”

  “Kaika,” Angulus blurted, running right behind Ridge.

  “Can’t talk now, Angulus,” Kaika hollered, though she gave him a cheerful wave as she stopped at the side of one of the fliers. “There’s a troublemaker afoot. He just ran out the front gate with Lieutenant Ahn after him.” She spun toward Pimples and pointed to the cockpit. “Up, up. Let’s go.”

  “I’m going, I’m going.” He stuffed the pastry in his mouth so he could use both hands.

  He needn’t have bothered. Kaika grabbed his legs and shoved him so hard that he tumbled into the cockpit face first.

  “Those are my personal fliers, Kaika,” Angulus said, managing to sound dry even though he was out of breath.

  “Which means they’ll be perfect for mowing down enemies of the crown.” Kaika placed her satchel in the back seat with enough care that Ridge suspected she had raided the castle’s armory for explosives.

  Ridge veer
ed for the cockpit of the second flier, not objecting to Pimples and Kaika taking the other. If Kaika truly had explosives, they ought to be more effective at destroying a submarine than bullets. So long as they could strike at it before it descended below the surface. Once it was far enough underwater, nothing except another submarine would have a chance at getting at it.

  A startled curse came from the side yard of the castle, and smoke flowed out of one of the open windows. Ridge scrambled into the cockpit and fired up the craft, hoping it would be easy to spot the enemy once he was in the air.

  For a moment, Ridge thought he would have to talk Angulus out of coming along, but Angulus heard that curse and stopped at the edge of the landing pad to look back at the castle. He seemed to remember that his duty was here, not hunting down enemies.

  “Go get him, Zirkander,” Angulus said, meeting his eyes and nodding. “You, too, Kaika.”

  “I’m more than ready to do so.” Kaika waved from the back seat, then thumped Pimples on the shoulder. “Get this bucket in the air.”

  “Bucket?” Angulus asked. “Really, Kaika, those are the most advanced fliers we’ve got.”

  Ridge’s thrusters roared to life, and he didn’t hear her response, but he was positive it was a sarcastic one. He lifted off, angling over the castle and toward the wall and the harbor beyond. Pimples, half a pastry still stuffed in his mouth, came right behind him.

  “You enjoying that dessert, Lieutenant?” Ridge asked after tapping the communication crystal to turn it on. He also tugged his dragon luck charm out of his pocket and gave it a quick rub.

  “I was. Then chaos broke out. I’m still confused about what’s going on, sir.”

  “We’re going after a submarine. And a shaman if we see him along the way.”

  He’s on the waterfront path below the castle that leads to the docks, Sardelle spoke into his mind. He jumped down from the road to the castle, then used magic to slow his fall and carry him away from Cas and Kasandral.

  Sardelle, Ridge replied silently. Where have you been? I’ve been missing you all day.

  Out helping your mom.

  Helping? Is she all right?

  Sardelle hesitated. She should be fine now.

  Ridge wanted to pump her for more details, but the road and the rocky slope down to the harbor were in view now. He spotted a small green glow from halfway down the hill. Was that Kasandral? What was the sword doing lying by itself on the rocks?

  Where are you now, Sardelle? Ridge wanted to go down and retrieve the sword—it was far too valuable a tool to leave down there, but they had a limited time to find and stop this shaman before he escaped.

  Almost there. Bhrava Saruth is giving me a ride. Oh dear.

  What?

  I sense Cas on the slope, well above the sword. She’s been buried by a rockfall.

  Hells, can you and the dragon get her out?

  Of course.

  Pimples, Kaika, and I will deal with the shaman.

  He’s almost to the docks.

  Ridge flew down toward the trail and sailed in circles as he squinted into the gloom below. The path wasn’t lit, and the gas lamps burning along the docks and in the city dulled his night vision. Further, the fire that General Ort had reported still threw flames into the night from one of the canneries on the waterfront. Ridge finally spotted someone running off the path and onto the waterfront street that led to the docks.

  Ridge wanted to open fire right away, but steam carriages rumbled along that same street. Worse, he spotted dozens—no hundreds—of people out along the waterfront, enjoying the evening air. And probably waiting to see the castle lights come on.

  “Gonna be waiting a while now, I bet,” Ridge grumbled.

  Since he couldn’t fire, he brought his craft lower to trail after the Dakrovian. Once he got out on the docks, closer to his submarine—and hopefully farther from people—Ridge would open up.

  “Ma’am,” Pimples said, “we can’t drop bombs. There are people everywhere.”

  “Just get me in close. I’ve got excellent accuracy.”

  Ridge flew over a well-lit pier where a black carriage was parked in front of an armored ironclad, loading some cargo. Odd, considering the hour. But there wasn’t time to worry about it. Both carriage and ship appeared Iskandian.

  “Close where?” Pimples asked. “Which pier is he going to run down? There are a hundred.”

  “Just circle and watch and see.”

  The shaman glanced behind him as he weaved through the crowd of people along the waterfront, people now gaping at the fliers. Ridge realized it probably looked like he and Pimples were doing a strafing run and meant to attack. He lifted an army and waved, trying to appear friendly. Maybe people would think this was part of the festivities.

  Not unless you do some of your loopy rolls in the air, Jaxi spoke into his mind.

  Jaxi, are you powerful enough to create a barrier to stop that man from reaching his destination? Ridge glanced over his shoulder, wondering if Sardelle and Bhrava Saruth were close enough now to help.

  He spotted the great gold dragon landing on the road near the castle and peering down the slope. Huge boulders flew into the air before bouncing and clattering downhill. Sardelle slid off Bhrava Saruth’s side, running to the edge. Ridge gulped. If Cas had been buried by those huge boulders, she couldn’t be in good shape.

  Uhm, I tried, but he evaded me, Jaxi said. He’s quite powerful for a mage in this era.

  Ridge turned his gaze back to the waterfront in time to see a splash. The shaman kicked his legs and disappeared under the surface.

  Imagining the fleeing man using his magic to dive deep, too far for bullets or bombs to reach, Ridge groaned. But then he spotted gray metal in one of the berths at the end of the pier. It looked more like an oval garbage lid than a boat of any kind, but he recognized it immediately, the hatch of a submarine and a portion of the hull around it, all that needed to be above water for someone to access the craft.

  Ridge flew straight toward it. “Follow me, Pimples. Kaika, I’ve got something for you to bomb.”

  “The vile enemy that violated Angulus’s castle?” Kaika asked.

  “Whatever gets you excited about dropping bombs.”

  “I think that’s everything, isn’t it, sir?” Pimples asked.

  Ridge flew low, just above the masts and smokestacks of other berthed ships and took careful aim with his machine guns. He doubted the bullets would damage the metal hull of the craft, but the docks were dark around it, and he wanted to highlight the spot for Kaika.

  As he closed, the submarine started to sink. Ridge cursed. Did the shaman have some way to get aboard from underwater without flooding the vessel? He didn’t think any Iskandian submarines had features that allowed that.

  Before the vessel completely disappeared, he rained bullets down. They clanged off the hatch and hull, not doing any obvious damage, but he hadn’t expected them to. He flew past, making room for Kaika and Pimples, before banking to come back around.

  He was in time to see Kaika dropping a compact package from the back seat of Pimples’ flier. The gray metal hatch had already disappeared under the water. Would the bomb have any effect?

  The package blew an instant before it would have struck the water, and fire filled the night sky. The boom echoed across the harbor, and hundreds of people along the waterfront gawked toward it. Wood split, and boards flew.

  Ridge winced at the damage to the docks, worried they had not harmed the enemy at all and had only damaged their own infrastructure.

  But as the light faded and the smoke cleared, the top of the submarine came into view again, bobbing up to the surface. Was it his imagination that the hatch was tilted to the side? Did that denote damage?

  “Drop another one,” Pimples blurted encouragingly, coming back around.

  “Wait,” Ridge barked as the hatch opened. “Someone’s coming out.”

  But Kaika had already dropped another bomb. Ridge winced as someone stuc
k his head out, looked up, and yanked his head back inside. A second later, the bomb plummeted through the hatch.

  The second explosion wasn’t as flashy or loud as the first, since it was muffled inside of the submarine, but he saw the hatch ripped off and plumes of smoke pouring out.

  Ridge rubbed his face as he circled with his flier, knowing the crew member must have been blown into tiny pieces. He reminded himself that these people had chosen to steal from Iskandia—and tried not to think about how his team had stolen the blood from the Cofah to start with—even if they hadn’t been successful.

  Though he didn’t know that yet. Had the Dakrovians found some of the dragon blood in the castle or had Angulus sent it away in time? Maybe that shaman was lugging some in a bag. Or stuffed in his pockets.

  Ridge flew low as the warped submarine tipped sideways, allowing water to seep through the open hatchway. There was nowhere for the shaman to retreat to now, but Ridge guessed he wouldn’t go back to the waterfront where he could be more easily apprehended. More likely, he would swim out to the breakwater and try to find a way out of the city and to safety.

  “That was some pinpoint accuracy, ma’am,” Pimples said, flying low to check on the submarine—the wreck. “You should’ve been a flier pilot.”

  “Sitting in a chair all day sounds boring to me,” Kaika said.

  “But it’s a chair in the sky.”

  “That makes it less boring?”

  “Of course.” Pimples demonstrated by spinning his craft upside down.

  “The shaman is still out here in the harbor, as far as I know,” Ridge said, flying over the gentle waves. He wished he had Wreltad or Jaxi along so one of the blades could have lit up the dark water. Or simply told him where their enemy was. “Come help me search for him.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sounding sheepish, Pimples righted his craft. “But how can he still be alive if he’s underwater? Magic?”

  “I’m assuming he has a way to make a bubble around himself. Or breathe under there somehow. I suppose he could be hiding under the piers out of our sight too.” Ridge glanced toward the slope. It would have been handy to have Sardelle’s or Bhrava Saruth’s help locating the Dakrovian, but they were busy retrieving Lieutenant Ahn.