One of the guards was pointing at her. She picked up the small rack, now full of blood samples, and walked back toward the men, her head bowed.
Tylie? Tolemek called with his thoughts, in the hope she was still listening to him, or receiving him, whatever Jaxi had called her ability.
She didn’t answer. She walked through the doorway and disappeared into the lab. One of the guards followed her. The other frowned at the dragon, then looked up. Tolemek hadn’t made a noise and hadn’t expected either of the men to glance upward, not now. He froze, afraid that movement would draw the guard’s eye, but he knew he was in sight, that the red light on that panel illuminated enough of the core that the shadows wouldn’t hide him. The guard looked right at him and grabbed his gun. Tolemek ducked back into the tunnel, cursing himself for lingering there. He half expected bullets to fly in his direction, but the guard must have remembered the barrier. He simply shouted something that, between the helmet and the barrier, Tolemek couldn’t understand. It didn’t matter. He got the gist. The Cofah knew he was here.
Chapter 11
Cas crouched in the brush at the top of the crater, her rifle across her thighs. Ten men in pirate clothing were shooting and creeping down the trail toward the ziggurat entrance, using crude wooden shields hacked from logs to protect themselves from gunfire that came from the guards. Yes, guards. Where there had been one before, six or eight men had gathered in the tunnel mouth, and they were returning fire. The stone walls protected them—and the fact that the intruders were busy dodging their fire. Cas couldn’t imagine the pirates making it past the guards. Or anyone else making it past them, either. But the pirates pushed on, drawing closer to the braziers. Two in the back were readying grenades, while two others tried to sneak close from the sides.
“That’s going to be a problem,” Duck whispered from beside her. “Reckon we missed our chance to get in?”
“Unless we want to get shot,” Cas said. “Or unless we shoot all of them.”
“I suppose that’s an option for you. How many rounds do you have in that rifle?”
“Enough for a few pirates.” From the elevated position, Cas could pick off the closest men without too much trouble, but she couldn’t see the guards in the tunnel, except when one leaned out to shoot at the pirates angling for the door from the side.
“Well,” Zirkander said from behind a nearby tree. “We got our distraction.”
The proper response to one’s commanding officer was usually a polite, “Yes, sir,” no matter what the situation. Cas couldn’t help but point out, “Yes, but it’s right in front of the only door.”
“I did note that.”
“Are you all right, Ridge?” Sardelle asked, coming up behind him. “You sound tired. And you’re slumping unnaturally.”
“I’m fine. Aside from realizing we should have made our incursion ten minutes ago. And slumping isn’t unnatural when you’ve been traveling for days.”
“It is for you. You’re always full of vigor.”
Cas would have snorted at the comment—shouldn’t couples talk about vigor in private?—but Zirkander did sound tired.
“You keep rubbing your face,” Sardelle said. “Your skin is warm.”
Zirkander sighed. “I know.”
Cas stared at the grass, her stomach sinking. They had been worried all along that they would become infected by whatever this disease was. Had it finally happened? Or had it happened to all of them long ago, and Zirkander was the first to show symptoms?
“Ridge…” Sardelle whispered, defeat in her voice. She leaned against him.
“Let’s just get into the pyramid and finish this mission,” Zirkander said. “We’ll worry about the rest in the morning. Will you tell Jaxi that we really do need that back door?”
For a long moment, Sardelle didn’t answer, and Cas thought she wouldn’t, that she would refuse to look past Zirkander’s health and to the mission. But she finally said, “We’ve already been discussing it. She says the ziggurat walls are less thick on the top half. Much of that is a hollow area, a big internal chamber that houses the dragon.”
“That’s where she wants to break in?”
“If we can climb up there somehow in the next few minutes, she might be able to burn through it quickly, while the guards and the pirates are still busy with each other.”
“Uh huh, and who will the dragon be busy with?”
That was Cas’s question too. Maybe they would be better off trying to shoot the guards and forgetting the idea of sneaking in. She was about to voice the suggestion when Sardelle spoke again.
“Jaxi says he’s unconscious.”
“The dragon?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” A soft thump sounded—Zirkander hitting the tree with his palm? “Let’s not delay any longer. We’ll circle around the back and find a way up.”
“Hope you brought a ladder, sir,” Duck said. “Those tiers each look to be a good fifteen, twenty feet high.”
“We have rope. We’ll manage. Ahn, lead the way, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cas backed away from the rim, making sure there were a few trees between her and the edge before she started walking. Unfortunately, the trek to the other side took them past the mass grave again. Her gut protested traveling through that odor once more. Especially now that she was worried Zirkander might have been infected. After showing the first symptoms, how long did a person have before his mind changed and he turned into one of those crazy souls? And how long until death followed? The idea of Colonel Zirkander, the hero pilot of Iskandia, falling to some sickness in a remote jungle after he had survived so many aerial battles… It was inconceivable.
She blinked a few times and pushed the thoughts out of her head. She had to concentrate on the mission, that was it. They would finish it and find a way to fix him, to fix everyone. Tolemek could do it.
“No stairs over here, either, eh?” Zirkander said as the group looked down to the back side of the ziggurat. The sound of gunfire echoed from the front, but they could no longer see the pirates or the door. Moss blanketed the tiers of stone walls, and in some spots, vines dangled down, dripping water. Even from the rim, the climb looked like it would be slick and challenging. “Makes you wonder whose job it is to scamper up there and light that fire.”
“Yes, sir,” Duck said, instead of making one of his usual flippant comments. He must be worried too.
“Well, Raptor-eyes, is it safe to mosey down there?” Zirkander asked. “See anyone skulking in the shadows, waiting to shoot us?”
“Nothing moving down there, sir,” Cas said.
She led the way down the steep slope, watching both corners of the ziggurat as they descended. She didn’t expect anyone trying to breach the front entrance to run back here, but one never knew.
The tall, wet grasses batted at her clothing, leaving them damp. She wondered if Tolemek had found some secret entrance or had slipped in the front. And what of her father? Had he found a way in already? She had been watching the crater nearly continuously since his appearance, but she had not seen anyone sneaking in the front.
The slope leveled out, and she pushed her way through the grass to the base of the ziggurat. She grimaced when she stood next to the stone monolith and looked up. From above, she hadn’t appreciated its sheer mass and towering size, but even the wall rising to the first tier stretched high over her head, closer to Duck’s estimate of twenty feet than fifteen.
“I’ve got a rope.” Zirkander came up behind her with a slender cord and collapsible metal grappling hook extended and ready. “Give me some room.”
“I can do that, sir,” Duck offered, as the rest of the team joined him.
“I’m not dead yet,” Zirkander said, an unaccustomed growl to his voice.
“Yes, sir,” Duck said softly.
Zirkander swung the hook on the end of the rope a few times, then released it. It sailed up, landing with a clank that was lost under the gunshots e
choing through the crater. They sounded louder down here than they had from the rim above.
Zirkander pulled gently on the rope until the hook found some notch in the old, porous stone, then tugged harder, leaning his body weight against it. Cas almost offered to go up first, since she was the lightest one, but she held her tongue, not wanting to be growled at. He climbed up the rope without bothering to take his pack off. They probably could have left their gear behind and simply taken weapons and some ammunition, but maybe he was trying to prove that he was still capable and that nobody needed to worry about him. He made the climb, slowing only a couple of times, when his boots slipped on the slick moss, but something about the way Sardelle gazed after him made Cas think she was indeed worrying about him, no matter what he wanted.
“Next,” Zirkander called down softly.
The gunshots out front had stopped. Cas was tempted to take a quick look to see if the pirates had made it to the entrance or all been mowed down. It was difficult to believe the risks those people were taking for some vague possibility of treasure. Unless… maybe they had been affected by the disease too? Was some derangement guiding them at this point?
“Next,” Zirkander called again, and Cas realized she remained alone at the bottom, Duck and Sardelle having shimmied up more quickly than expected.
Having no delusions about her own weight-carrying abilities, she left her pack leaning against the wall—Sardelle’s was there, too—and shifted her rifle, so it hung across her back. She grabbed the rope and pulled herself up, knees banging against the stone. The moss wasn’t as insulating as one might have thought. Before she had gone more than a few feet, she found herself being tugged up. She soon joined the others on the first tier. Again the breadth of the structure amazed her. They had to walk more than fifteen meters inward before they could throw the rope again and start climbing to the next level.
They continued that way until they were over halfway to the top. The gunshots hadn’t resumed, nor did Cas catch any voices, but it could simply be that all of the remaining people had gone inside.
“This far enough?” Zirkander asked, sounding winded.
More winded than usual? No, he and Duck had been pulling up Cas and Sardelle so they could ascend more quickly. That was all. Cas grimaced, wishing she could stop thinking of him as a victim.
“Jaxi would like to go one more level,” Sardelle said.
“Would she?” Zirkander asked. “Would she be offended if I simply tossed her up there?”
“She would like me to point out that the stasis chamber has a protective charge around it to ward off people, animals, and objects, and that those of us with flesh and bones will likely burst into flames if we touch it. She believes she’ll be unaffected. She’s only thinking of you. You know, Ridge, despite your threats to toss her places, she’s rather fond of you.” Sardelle wrapped her arm around him.
“I would hate to see the conversations she has with people she’s not fond of.”
“Yes, you would.”
“Stasis chamber?” Cas asked. “What is that?”
“It’s where you go to nap for three hundred years, as I understand it,” Zirkander said.
“Or three thousand,” Sardelle said.
“What?” he asked sharply.
“Jaxi was looking through Tolemek’s eyes earlier and studied a panel on the wall down there. It—”
“Tolemek’s inside already?” Cas shouldn’t be shocked—where else would he have gone?—but she was surprised he had already reached the dragon’s chamber. She touched the stone wall. “Is he in that center area you spoke of now?”
“She’s not sure. She doesn’t think so.” Sardelle stepped away from Zirkander, drew her sword, studied it for a moment, then stepped back from the wall and threw the blade.
Startled, Cas stumbled back. But the sword sailed well over their heads as it arced up to the next tier. She expected a clank of the metal striking the stone, but it never came. Instead, a faint crimson light emanated from above them.
“I see,” Zirkander said. “It’s not acceptable for me to throw her, but you can fling her around whenever you wish?”
“A perk of being her handler.”
“Hm. While she’s doing whatever she’s going to do up there, can you explain this panel and how this dragon is now three thousand years old, please?” Zirkander twirled the end of the rope again and tossed the grappling hook.
I’ll explain it. This relaying of messages through human mouths takes too long.
If Cas had stumbled before, she nearly fell over this time. Duck came even closer to pitching over. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself.
“Did you all hear that?” he asked.
“Yes, but I always hear her these days.” Zirkander locked in the hook and climbed toward the next level.
“Her?” Duck asked.
Cas was only slightly less stunned. Even if she had known the sword could talk to the others, she had assumed that as a normal, non-magical person, she would never hear it.
Think again. It’s more difficult for me to speak to those who aren’t receptive, but I’ve been chatting with Sardelle’s soul snozzle for almost two weeks now.
“Her what?” Duck rubbed the side of his head.
“Only two weeks?” Zirkander asked as he disappeared over the edge. “It seems like much longer.”
“Be nice,” Sardelle called up softly. “She was just thinking fondly of you since you’re going up to get her.”
“I just came up here for the view,” Zirkander said over the edge. When he looked over his shoulder, the crimson glow coming from in front of him lit up his face. His eyes widened.
Cas headed for the rope. If the sword was burning a way in, she wanted to be there for it, especially if Tolemek was nearby inside.
Here’s what I’ve gathered so far, Jaxi spoke into her mind. And yes, I’m talking to all of you at once. It’s tiring, so listen closely so I won’t have to repeat myself.
“Yes, ma’am,” Duck said.
I didn’t know much until I saw the panel on the stasis chamber. I didn’t even know there was a stasis chamber. I should have guessed. How else would a dragon have survived into this era when all of its brethren have long since died off or otherwise disappeared?
Cas climbed up the rope. Zirkander had moved away from the edge, too distracted to help pull her up this time, so she grunted up the wall, her rifle heavy on her back.
I had been thinking this dragon might be part of some remote, long lost clan that lived in seclusion on these wild islands, but here’s what I think actually happened, and this is all a guess, mind you. The dragon appears to be unconscious. He certainly hasn’t answered any of my greetings over the last few days.
As soon as Cas poked her nose over the edge of the stone, intense heat beat against her face. The sword hadn’t landed on the bottom of the tier up here, as she had assumed, but it had flown all the way to the wall, where it was now wedged between two of the massive blocks that comprised the ziggurat. The blade radiated red light and heat, and the stone was disappearing. No, Cas amended, when she spotted the liquid pooling underneath the sword. The stone wasn’t disappearing. It was melting. That was a pool of molten rock with steam wafting into the night air above it.
As Sardelle already knows, humans originally received the stasis chamber technology from the dragons over a thousand years ago—it’s more an intricate creation of magic rather than technology as you would call it. I’d read stories about how they had used it in the past, but it was generally to keep laboratory specimens alive or, ah, humans that they cared for. I wasn’t aware that dragons ever used it.
“Humans that they cared for?” Duck asked from below. “Like lovers?”
That was the case in the novel I read. It was a historical text, but a work of fiction, so I can’t be certain if that was truly ever done.
“It was a historical romance novel is what Jaxi means,” Sardelle said.
Hush. The details ar
en’t important. My point is that dragons had little reason to ever use the technology on themselves, as far as I’ve read about. They were long-lived and so powerful that it usually took a battle with another dragon to slay one. But for some reason, this dragon chose to entomb himself in a stasis chamber—or someone forced him to be entombed. That’s a possibility too. Judging by the model of the chamber, this isn’t the most recent example of the technology. It’s old. That’s why I’m guessing this is a three-thousand-year-old dragon. Well, not technically. Just as Sardelle isn’t technically three hundred and thirty years old. But it was born thousands of years ago. I’m not sure what its real age is. Just from what I’ve glimpsed of the physical form, I don’t think he’s actually that old.
“Sardelle is three-hundred and thirty?” Duck asked.
“Surely you didn’t think I was the mature one in the relationship,” Zirkander said.
“Well. Uh, no, but… Never mind.”
“I think he just decided it isn’t prudent to suggest that one’s commanding officer has never been the mature one in a relationship with a woman,” Sardelle said.
Zirkander nodded. “Likely so.”
“So why is the dragon unconscious?” Cas asked, watching the hole in the stone grow larger and larger. Each giant block was over ten feet long and five feet thick, but the sword had already burned through the first one. Somehow it moved inward as it worked, instead of simply falling down when the stone around it melted away.
I could guess, but I can’t tell just by looking at him.
“Is it possible the dragon is sick?” Sardelle mused. “We had speculated, Tolemek and I, that its blood was being turned into a biological weapon, but…”
“Sick in a way that’s making human beings who come in contact with it sick?” Zirkander asked. “Human beings who then pass the illness on to each other?”
“Not just humans,” Cas said, thinking of the winged tiger.
That’s a thought. The stasis chamber would have also worked as a form of quarantine. So long as it wasn’t opened.
“Which it obviously has been,” Zirkander said.
Patterns in the Dark (Dragon Blood Book 4) Page 18
