Dax strode to the table and studied it silently for a moment. The flat maps, the holo projection, the logs.
“Nice move, taking out the command post before they even got comfortable.”
“Head of the snake,” Tark said. “And it was thanks to Rayden. He is the one who knew of the cellar that gave us access.”
Dax smiled at the boy, who gaped back, speechless.
“Good job,” Dax said.
The boy drew himself up proudly then. “I knew it would work.”
Dax’s gaze softened. “You remind me of my girl. That was always her answer after some crazed escapade.”
Tark shifted uncomfortably then. “Your daughter,” he began.
When Dax shifted his gaze back, Rina stepped in and quickly spoke. “She would not hear no, Dax. Lyon was going, and she was with him, no matter what anyone said.”
“Going?”
“I know the irony. I came here to check on her welfare, and then let her venture out in the middle of a battle to scout for us.”
“Rina,” Dax said gently, “this is war. We all must do what we can. Besides, my worry was more . . . personal. Where are they?”
Tark quickly explained about the tunnels. He left it to Rina to explain about the rest. And while Dax accepted the part about the invisible screen—after seeing how well Larc’s veiling worked, she supposed that was not a big jump—the bit about the treasure and the orb made his brows raise.
“Time for that later,” Tark suggested.
“Yes,” Dax said. “We must—”
The door opened. Kateri stood there. She scanned the room, her gaze stopping on Dax and Tark and Rina. Something warm and pleased came into her usual weary expression. Rina understood both. She had been proven right at last, but the cost had already been high. The last count she had heard, casualties, mostly civilian, had been in the hundreds.
“I have word. The mother ship has been sighted by our scout ship. They are coming.”
“Direction?” Tark demanded.
“Not committed yet, but either to the plain as you suspected, or the highlands beyond.”
“The highlands make no sense,” Tark said. “Brakely is not stupid. He would know massing there would cost them too much in time and gain them little in stealth.”
“Hard to hide a Coalition-sized army,” Dax agreed easily. His blood was up—Rina could see it. The flashbow warrior was ready for a fight as much as the skypirate ever had been.
“There is more,” Kateri said. “There is a second contingent. Nearly as large, judging by the number of ships.”
“Headed straight here,” Tark said flatly.
“Yes.”
“You knew they would not take what you did here lightly,” Dax said.
“Yes,” Tark said.
“You’ve made them very angry, my friend. Again.”
“Yes,” he repeated with satisfaction.
Dax grinned. “And they are dividing their forces because of it.”
Tark looked at him then, his old rakish grin forming. Rina saw the nod of salute Dax gave him. Her love and admiration for these two men tightened her throat.
“Your communicator is blinking,” Kateri said, pointing to Rina.
She looked down at her belt, saw the red light flashing. The sound of the alert must have been lost in the noise of Dax’s arrival. She unclipped it, read the burst message.
“It’s from Lyon,” she said.
The room went silent. She read the short message, the numbers. Some of the men stirred, but fell silent when Tark lifted a hand, his gaze fastened on her. Dax seemed to note this, a faint smile on his lips.
She stared at the holo projection. Walked to the end of the table to stare at the far side of the old mountain, and at the gridlines that hovered faintly in the air. She looked at the numbers Lyon had sent once more. Then she let her gaze go slightly unfocused, and put all the elements together in her mind. Double-checked.
A moment later she blinked, and looked at the two men she loved most, along with her king and his son.
She grinned.
“The tunnel goes nearly all the way through the mountain. It stops barely fifteen feet from the outside.”
“There’s the way to flank them,” Dax said.
Tark said nothing; he was staring at the holo projection.
Rina agreed quickly. “Get them into the pass, then come up from behind them. We trap them, and then hold Galatin, we could end this war right now.”
Still Tark said nothing.
“I will give what air support I can, from the fighter,” Dax said. “I think I can do more good there than on the ground, at least until the Evening Star gets here. But if need be, I can set her down almost anywhere.”
Rina was watching Tark intently now. She moved to stand beside him, to look at the holo from the same angle. Then she looked at his face.
The truth hit her instantly, tightened her stomach until she felt queasy with it. It was there. That pass, where the battle would take place, was where he had nearly died. Where he and his small band had fought nearly to the death, and then been left to die in fact.
“At least a small force will have to meet them in the pass while the main force goes through the tunnel,” Dax was saying, “or they will suspect something. And they will have to be your best, to hold them long enough.”
“I will lead them,” Tark said, his voice so neutral Rina knew the effort behind it. He was volunteering to march back into the hell that had nearly destroyed him, and against much greater odds.
“You must not,” Kateri said sharply.
For an instant Rina wondered if the woman knew. If so, she blessed her silently.
“Who else can?” Tark asked.
Kateri shook her head. “The same reason stands. There will be another battle here, even more fierce now that you have pierced their arrogance. They will be merciless. If the people of Galatin are to stand, you must be here to lead them.”
“Are they so wavering then?” Dax asked.
“They have had years of peace to soften them, and no leaders such as you or your king to counter that. But they will fight, if Tark asks it of them.” She walked to him, put a hand on his arm. “You must be here,” she urged. “I know these people.”
“But again, who will lead the force into the pass? Dax is right, he must use that fighter, it will be invaluable in his hands.”
“I will,” Rina said it without hesitation. She would walk into Hades to save him from going back there.
“No!” Tark’s exclamation was quick and forceful. She stared at him. “Do you truly believe I could send you into that and stay here?”
“It could be worse here,” she pointed out.
“Stay,” Dax said. “You helped him hold Galatin before, help him again. Kateri is right. Do not underestimate the power of the people knowing that the same leaders who saved them before are here again.”
Rina felt the moment when Tark let out a breath, giving in to the inevitable. “But again, who then?”
Dax’s lips tightened. And with all the knowledge she had gained since the time he had rescued a wild, terrified child whose family had been slaughtered by the Coalition, she realized what he was thinking.
“They have grown much in these few days, Dax,” she said softly. “Learned much.”
Dax turned to face her. “Enough?”
“There is never enough, not for such as this. But who they are alone will inspire the kind of fighting we need.”
“I . . .” For one of the few times in her lifetime, Dax Silverbrake was without a sharp comeback.
“It is time, Dax. For her especially.”
He let out a long breath.
“I will still go, if you wish, to be beside h
er. Or him,” Rina said.
Dax looked at her for a moment, then at Tark. Slowly, he shook his head. “No. Your place is here now.”
She saw in his eyes that he understood. Everything. “Yes. It is.”
She heard Tark’s quick intake of breath. Reached to take his hand. Squeezed it in support as he had hers earlier.
“Are you sure, Dax?” he asked quietly. “Your daughter and the king’s son, fighting for Arellia?”
Rina knew once Dax decided or was persuaded on a course, he didn’t quibble. Yet this was his child, and Dare’s, so his voice was a little tight as he spoke. “It is part of what it means to be Triotian,” he answered. “We help our friends and honor our pacts. This they know.” He looked at Kateri. “Will your people follow the Prince of Trios? And my daughter?”
Kateri’s eyes widened. And then, amazingly, she laughed. “Tark holding Galatin, the half-Arellian son of the king of Trios and daughter of the flashbow warrior on the ground, with Dax himself flying overhead? Oh, yes, they will fight. This is what they needed, all they needed—true leaders. Not those cowards hiding in the next room. Most people are lucky to have one leader they will march into Hades for. Now Arellia has four!”
“How will they get through the end of the cave?” Rayden asked, clearly excited, yet apparently unaware or unconcerned by the swirling emotions and momentous decisions of the adults around him.
Brought back to the practical by the innocent question of a child, Tark grimaced. “Explosives, even small ones, might bring the cave down,” he said. “And from what they said in the burst message, the cave is too small and crooked for equipment.”
“But not for me,” Dax said.
The memory of Dax blasting away a prison wall to save her shot through Rina’s mind. It was the first time she had truly seen the full power of the flashbow. But she also knew its cost to the warrior.
“Be careful, Dax. We cannot afford to have you weakened.”
Dax snorted. “Fifteen feet? You insult me.”
“This will work?” Tark asked. “Without bringing it down around you?”
“The flashbow adjusts to the target,” Rina explained. “He can control what the bolt does, how it does it, and with how much power.” And the more power he has to give it, the more it drains him, she thought, but did not say it.
“Give me the coordinates for that cave,” Dax said. “I must move quickly, for the Coalition will.”
Rina keyed them into her communicator and sent them to his.
Tark turned to the table behind him and picked up a laser pistol and handed it to Dax. “From what they said you’ll need this, to cut through that screen.”
“And be aware,” Rina added, “they left Mordred there, trapped.”
Dax blinked. “They what?”
She grinned. “I told you they’ve come a long way.”
“There is one other thing,” Tark said. “Something I would have you do, if your fighter is capable.”
“She can do most things,” Dax said proudly.
“Heavy lifting?”
Dax’s brow furrowed. “How heavy?”
Tark explained what he wanted. Dax studied him for a moment, then slowly nodded. “You think far ahead,” he said approvingly.
“Someone must,” Rina said dryly.
“Time,” Tark said.
“Yes,” Dax agreed, and headed for the door. He paused before opening it and looked back at them. “Good luck.”
Tark nodded.
“And,” Dax added with a grin at the man Rina knew he’d thought of as more than just a brother in arms, “welcome to the family.”
Tark stared at him. Then a small, almost shy smiled lifted one corner of his mouth. Rina could have hugged Dax all over again, were it not for the fact that Tark was right, time was now crucial.
Dax strode through the door and was gone, and moments later the once more visible fighter was rising into the air to the sound of a cheering crowd.
Chapter 48
“HE’S HERE,” SHAINA said, feeling the odd sensation that was unique to her father—the awareness she’d always had, but never understood until now. Yet another thing he had kept from her.
“So fast?” Lyon asked. Rina had sent them word, saying that her father had somehow already been in Galatin when their message had come through.
“He must be in the new fighter,” she said. “When I left, Larcos was swearing he’d have it finished the next day.”
Lyon turned from the gold plate he’d been inspecting for marks of origin. “Are you still angry with him?”
“There is no room or time for that now.”
“No. There isn’t.” Lyon paused, then added gently, “And when there is a chance of dying, I would say there is never any room for it.”
Her head came up, but her words this time were calm. “You would have me hold him blameless?”
“No. I would weigh this one thing against all else, all of your life, and decide if it is worth destroying your bond with him for.”
As usual, he had found the words. “It is not. Nothing is.” What she saw in his eyes then warmed her to her soul. “What did you find?” she asked, gesturing at the treasure.
He shrugged. “Nothing of great note. At least, other than the value of the gold itself.” He set down the plate and turned to face her. “What is it you thought of when we first got here this time? That made you frown?”
“I was just trying to figure out why I could see this,” she said, gesturing toward the niche. “You, I understand, you’re Graymist. And Mordred is not, so it follows he could not see it. But why could I?”
“Because you are beloved by a Graymist?” Lyon suggested.
She felt her cheeks heat; she was still not used to hearing him say it like that, so easily. But then, words had always come more easily to Lyon. She too often spoke rashly, or before she’d thought it through. She would do well to learn his way, and she would, she vowed. She—
“Quite a place.”
Her father’s voice came from the shadows, and she whirled. She gaped at him, then laughed at herself. Of course he had managed to sneak up on them. He was the vaunted skypirate, was he not?
“The new fighter is not the only thing with stealth, I see,” Lyon said mildly.
Her father was grinning as he stepped into the circle of light cast by the torch they had placed on a shelf of rock.
“And you are as unshakeable as ever, I see.”
Her father grasped Lyon’s shoulder, and nodded. Then he turned to look at her. She held steady under his searching gaze, determined not to hide.
“We will talk, later,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, and was surprised at the relief that flashed in his eyes.
“Show me the wall,” he said, wasting no time.
“Yes, sir,” Lyon said and started toward the tunnel entrance.
They traversed the distance quickly, since they had walked it twice now and it was familiar. But it was enough time for her father to explain what was happening. He did not hide the severity of the situation, or play down the coming attack. In this, at least, he seemed to prefer they knew what was coming.
Lyon was right, there was no room for her personal anger now, maybe ever. What her father had done no longer mattered. Right now all that mattered was that they survive to sort it all out. Lyon was right about that, too. The chance of dying changed everything.
They reached the end of the tunnel. Her father took the flarelight and studied the wall.
“This is dense stuff,” he said as he ran his hand over it, pausing here, then there. “Really dense.” Finally his fingers curled into a fist and he tapped a spot about shoulder high.
“There,” he said, and stepped back.
He handed the fla
relight to her. “Hold it on that spot,” he said.
She knew he could find his target without the light, it was part of the gift, but she also knew it took some energy that would otherwise go to the firing. He swung the flashbow off his back. The silver glinted in the light, from the intricately engraved stock to the metallic string that tensioned the bow itself. It was an elegantly lethal weapon that was fearsome to most who looked upon it, and to all who knew of its power. To her, it was inextricably linked to her father—it was the symbol of his strength, his skill, and his courage.
She glanced at Lyon. He held up six fingers. She countered with five. And the childhood game of guessing how many bolts he would use eased her tension.
“Wagering on me back there?” her father asked casually, without looking, as he took one of the oddly colored, handsbreadth-wide bolts and slid it into the groove on the flashbow. He notched it onto the metallic bowstring, seated it against the charging block, and flipped the lever. It began to hum.
“Yes,” she answered. “Don’t let me down.”
Her father went still. He did not look around, he was into the cycle now and could not, but he answered her.
“I will not. I have already done too much of that.”
Shaina’s heart seemed to twist in her chest, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. And then he fired; the explosion echoed in the small space, and rock crumbled, sliding to the ground like so much dust. And just like that dust, the last of her anger slid away. He knew what he had done—Lyon was right. As usual.
He went through it again. And again. Each time a couple of feet of the wall fell away. Fifteen feet, she thought. Dense, he’d said. It might take more than even Lyon had guessed. And each shot cost him. The bolts seemed to her brighter than ever, and she remembered he had told her the more power he directed to them, the brighter they glowed. The rock must be incredibly dense, for it to take so much.
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