The Dragon Blood Collection, Books 1-3

by Lindsay Buroker

  What a marvelous idea.

  Chapter 3

  Ridge knew he had dawdled too long when he found General Ort—scowling as usual—and the bland-faced Captain Nowon waiting inside the hangar door, along with a third officer, who wore the elite troops silver badge on her uniform. Yes, her. Ridge blinked and looked twice. Women weren’t allowed into the infantry units, and while the elite troops were a somewhat different creature, since some of the operatives were trained for spy missions as well as for fighting prowess, he wouldn’t have thought many—if any—could pass the rigorous physical tests. She was taller than Captain Nowon, though—only an inch shy of Ridge’s own six-foot-one—and had the lean rangy look of an endurance runner. Her nametag read Kaika, and she wore captain’s tabs on the collar of her uniform. Ridge expected a rigid attention stance and a snappy salute when she turned toward him, figuring a woman would have to be the model of military professionalism to be considered for the elite troops, but she gave him a perfunctory salute, followed by a handshake and a sultry smile that seemed out of place on a rawboned face without a speck of makeup softening the features.

  “Colonel Zirkander, it’s a real honor to have been chosen to work with you and your team.”

  Despite the sensual smile, she didn’t hold the handshake longer than appropriate, nor did she do anything so brazen as giving him a head-to-toe look of consideration, such as he occasionally received from women. Still, something about the cant of her lips and the twinkle in her gray eyes said she knew how to have fun on the weekends. Her hair was short enough to be regulation without pins, but she managed to give it a flirty sway as she turned her head toward her comrade. Captain Nowon was in the middle of something that almost looked like an eye roll, but the movement was so slight, it might have been part of his perpetual scanning of the area around him—and above him.

  “Well,” Ridge said to Ort, whose scowl was definitely directed at him and not anyone else in the hangar, “I like her better than Therrik.”

  “I’ll bet,” Ort said.

  “That’s not much of an accolade,” Kaika whispered to Nowon, and clasped her hands behind her back in a loose parade rest.

  “Where have you been, Ridge?” Ort snapped. “Your elites are packed and here—” he waved toward a couple of duffel bags near the wall that, judging by the bulges, were loaded with weapons rather than clothing, “—and you haven’t even picked your team yet.”

  “Sorry, General. Had a break-in at the house I had to check on, then I needed to make a quick stop for a necessary purchase.” Ridge rattled a brown paper bag in his hand.

  “Break-in? What do you mean, break-in?”

  Ridge shrugged. For all that he would love to hurl all of the army’s forces after the intruders, he wasn’t about to explain that someone was after Sardelle and her sword. That would raise far too many questions as to why. “I don’t know who was responsible, but I’ll be having a word with General Domhower about installation security. My house was demolished, and I’m not certain yet if anything was stolen.”

  Ort’s scowl faded and was replaced with a faintly hopeful expression. “Was your couch irreparably damaged, by chance?”

  “Nope, just tipped over.”

  “A shame.”

  Ridge arched his brows.

  “About the break-in, I mean.”

  “Careful, General. Make fun of my couch, and I won’t invite you to my next beer, blood, and brisk-ball summer gathering. You won’t get to take your shirt off and flex your muscles for Lieutenant Colonel Ostraker’s grandmother.”

  “I still have a scar from your last gathering,” Ort grumbled.

  “That’ll teach you to play drunk. The ground crew officers are feisty.”

  “I think they just like an opportunity to throw an elbow into a general’s ribs.”

  “That’s what feisty means, isn’t it?” Ridge asked.

  Ort grimaced and rubbed his side.

  “What’s in the bag?” Captain Kaika nodded toward the crinkled paper with curious eyes.

  “Just something to watch over the house while I’m gone.” Ridge kept it shut. As captains, these two probably wouldn’t mock him to his face, but he didn’t need any rumors about his quirkiness floating around the intelligence units.

  “Break-ins regardless, I need you to pick your team and get ready,” Ort said. “You’ll need to leave two hours before dawn if you want to time your arrival to cruise into Cofahre after dark but with most of the night still ahead of you. That’s why I told Therrik to send his gear and team early, so you can get everything sorted out today.”

  “Yeah, yeah, got it.” Ridge ignored Ort’s customary bristling at the lack of honorifics and military courtesy, and waved to the captains. “Before I do anything else, I’ve got to tell you two that half of that—” he pointed to the lumpy duffels, “—will have to stay here.”

  “That is mission-essential gear, sir,” Nowon said. His facial expression didn’t change much, but his words came out rapidly. That probably passed for urgency from him.

  “If it’s half as heavy as it looks, it’ll be too much weight. Even the two-seaters—especially the two-seaters—have very strict maximum loads, and if we don’t pay attention to them, we’ll be sailing over to Cofahre instead of flying. I’m already going to have to lose half of my ammunition to make room for all of Therrik’s muscles.” Ridge gave Ort a sour look before heading into the hangar.

  “Find a lighter pilot to take him,” Ort called after him.

  Ridge waved his hand in acknowledgment but wasn’t sure he could justify tormenting any of his people with that personality. He had Lieutenant Ahn in mind for the mission—she was the lightest of anyone on the squadron—but planned to assign Tolemek to her plane. He hadn’t been joking when he had told Sardelle he couldn’t see any of his other pilots flying across the Targenian Sea with Deathmaker in the seat behind, not without sixteen hours of tense shoulders and quiet suffocating terror.

  It was a maintenance day, without any drills scheduled, so all of the Wolf and Tiger squadron fliers were in. Tiger squadron had their physical efficiency tests today, so Ridge’s pilots had the building to themselves. The men and women had their checklists and technical manuals out as they ran through inspections of engines, wiring, and cabling, though they had all been glancing toward the door while he and the colonel talked. They had to be wondering why the elite troops were here and if the squadron was heading off on a mission. Ridge wasn’t sure whether to feel bad for those who had to stay behind or not. He would be enthused about this adventure if he were in charge, but he had misgivings about Therrik.

  No, he admitted to himself, he just didn’t like Therrik and didn’t want to work with him—much less under him. Most likely, he was a perfectly competent commander and very good at skulking around behind enemy lines and setting bombs or whatever these people did. Ridge glanced back, catching Nowon and Kaika with those duffels open, arguing over the contents. Several pistols and boxes of ammunition lay on the floor around the bags, while wires and bulging apparatuses poked out of the top. Bombs, yes, that appeared likely.

  “Morning, sir,” Lieutenant Ahn said as he approached. She glanced at the paper bag in his hand but didn’t comment on it.

  He should have left it by the door, but then one of those other officers might have peeked inside.

  “Is it still morning?” Ridge asked. It seemed like he had been awake for hours and hours.

  “I think so, sir.”

  “Up for a special mission to Cofahre?”

  She hesitated, but then nodded firmly. “Always, sir.”

  He mulled over that hesitation for a moment. She hadn’t said a word about what she had endured during her weeks of being a prisoner, but it couldn’t have been anything pleasant. He had spent time in a Cofah prison himself a few years back. He doubted the guards had grown any more accommodating. Still, she had proven herself capable in battle three times since returning, and he didn’t doubt that she could handle any lingeri
ng nightmares.

  “If everything goes well, we’ll slip in at night, drop off our cargo—” Ridge waved to the two captains, “—and then slip out again the next night, without ever getting into a battle. In fact, I think the king is hoping we won’t get into battles. It’s something of a spy mission, and there’ll just be a handful of us going.”

  “Oh?” Ahn perked up, clearly intrigued. Or pleased to be picked for an elite task force.

  “Yes, and I’ve been asked to talk Tolemek into coming. I thought you might be willing to help.”

  Her expression grew a little wry. “I assumed you were picking me for my unique skills, rather than who I’m sleeping with, but I suppose I want to go along if he’s going, to keep him out of trouble.”

  Ridge stifled a grimace at the words “sleeping with.” It was true that Tolemek had acted like a perfectly decent human being so far, but Ridge still felt protective toward Ahn, probably because he’d first met her when she was barely more than a kid, and some notorious pirate was not who he would have picked for her to fall in love with. The decision wasn’t his, of course, and the fact that her dad loathed the idea almost made Ridge want to champion it. None of that was important at the moment, though.

  “Oh, I have your unique skills in mind, trust me,” he said. “Take your Mark 500 and plenty of ammunition for it. Just because we’re supposed to get in and out without a fight doesn’t mean we will. You know plans are worth spit until they’ve been put into action. And if our friends over there get into trouble, it’s possible we’ll have to get them out.” Oh, and wouldn’t he appreciate the expression on Therrik’s face when Ridge’s pilots were the ones to rescue him from some Cofah prison? “We’re leaving two hours before dawn, so start packing. But I do want you to meet me at Tolemek’s lab after lunch.”

  “You don’t think he’ll want to come along?” Ahn lowered her voice. “Or are you afraid he’ll want to come along too badly? So he can get his sister? He is happy here, sir. He just wants to make sure she doesn’t have to stay in that place any longer than necessary.”

  “I know. I understand. Unfortunately, I’m not going to be in command of the mission, but we’ll find out where she is exactly, and if it’s anywhere near and it’s at all possible…” Ridge finished with a shrug, not wanting to promise too much.

  “Thank you, sir. He’ll appreciate you thinking of him. I appreciate it.”

  Ridge gave her a parting nod and headed down the line toward the next pilot he had in mind for the mission. Ahn’s gratitude made him feel a little guilty, since he wouldn’t be thinking of going out of his way to help Tolemek if not for Sardelle and the promise she had made to the pirate.

  As he passed Pimples, Beeline, and Crash, Ridge gave them quick nods and greetings, noting their hopeful expressions, but he didn’t stop. He could only take two more men, and he hadn’t been buttering Ahn’s toast—he truly wanted people with talents beyond flying for this. Talents that might be useful if he needed them. Besides, he needed to leave some good men for Major Pennith, who would command the squadron in his absence.

  “Duck and Apex.” Ridge gestured to the two men at the end of the line of fliers. “Come see me.”

  A wide grin split Duck’s face, and he thumped his fist on Apex’s shoulder as he ran past. He was twenty-five and would make a good captain once he settled down, but Lieutenant Wasley “Duck” Antilon still seemed more a kid than an officer. He and Pimples might have a few years on Ahn, but she always seemed the oldest of the group of young lieutenants.

  Duck almost skidded in his hurry to meet Ridge and snap to attention. “Yes, sir?” Almost too tall to be a pilot, he had big ears, big feet, and a big grin that he always had to struggle to rein in. He wasn’t doing a good job of that at the moment.

  Apex walked over, his stride more measured, his expression one of curiosity but not avid hope, like Duck’s. Though he was also a lieutenant, he was in his early thirties since he had come later than usual to the military, finishing eight years of university classes and two years studying fossils in the field before having his hometown of Tanglewood destroyed by pirates. More specifically, by Deathmaker’s biological agent. Ridge had been watching him since Tolemek had come to the city, but Apex was good at hiding his thoughts. He had seemed stiffer than usual around Ahn these last weeks, but to Ridge’s knowledge, he hadn’t confronted her or made a problem. Under any other circumstances, Ridge wouldn’t do something as foolish as putting him on a team with Tolemek, but the man knew everything there was to know about dragon history. Sardelle knew a lot about dragons and history, too—Ridge still hadn’t figured out if she had always been academically inclined, or if Referatu children had simply received more thorough educations than anyone else—but he still didn’t know how he could bring her on the mission, especially if he wasn’t in charge.

  “Sir?” Apex asked, falling in beside Duck.

  Ridge opened his brown bag and held it toward him. “The vendor promised this is an authentic Peruvashian Prosperity Dragon carved from the finest redwood burl. It’s guaranteed to bring luck to my home. What’s your professional opinion?”

  Apex peered into the bag. “That the vendor saw you coming and knew colonels make good money.”

  Ridge snorted. “I only paid ten nucros for it.”

  Apex lifted his gaze to the flier at the front of the queue, where Ridge’s little wooden dragon carving hung in the cockpit. “It looks heavy. You’re not going to replace your current charm, are you?”

  “Nah, this is for the house. It’s been under assault of late.”

  “I see.” Apex clasped his hands behind his back and refrained from saying his commander was a superstitious dolt. Good man.

  “Any idea what dragon blood might be used for?” Ridge asked.

  Apex’s eyebrows rose. “Dragon blood was exceedingly difficult to acquire. There were cases of swords stained with dragon blood during the Rider Wars, and of minute quantities being scraped away for study, but that was fifteen hundred years ago, and science was primitive back then. Speculation ranged from the blood itself having healing properties to the possibility of it being an energy source. It was proven any number of times that the offspring of those who mated with dragons gained access to otherworldly or perhaps mental powers that normal humans couldn’t tap into. Is this what you’re referring to? Human blood mixed with dragon blood? If so, it’s been nearly fifty generations since the last dragons were seen in the world, and the dilution factor means there’s little difference now between a human who had a dragon ancestor and one who didn’t.”

  “Yes, I’ve always wondered how those matings went,” Ridge said, though in truth, he hadn’t thought much about it until he had met Sardelle and she had explained that all sorcerers had a dragon ancestor somewhere in the family tree. “But what I’m actually asking about is what pure dragon blood might be used for now, because it sounds like the Cofah might have some.”

  “I don’t see how that’s possible, sir. It sounds like propaganda.” Apex eyed the elite troops captains. “Unless we have some kind of proof? In which case I would be most intrigued to examine it. It can’t possibly be live, viable blood, but perhaps they’ve found some trace blood molecules in a fossilized mosquito or some such. If a mosquito could even pierce a dragon’s scaled hide. I’d be skeptical, but I know there were some bigger blood-harvesting insects in past eras.”

  “The impression I got from my meeting was that this was live blood,” Ridge said.

  “Impossible. Unless they’ve got a live dragon too.”

  “That’s… an interesting notion. Or a disturbing one. If anyone is going to have dragons on their side, I’d much prefer it be us rather than the Cofah. Still, you’d think that if there were dragons left in the world, one would have shown up now and then in the last millennium.”

  “Science hypothesizes that they went extinct due to changes in the atmosphere that came with the increased human presence in the world,” Apex said. “The bonk-a-doos say the dra
gons got tired of this world and migrated to another one, though there’s no evidence that dragons could fly through space or create portals to other planets.”

  Bonk-a-doos, indeed. “Is it possible the Cofah could have figured out a way to create dragon blood through some scientific or mechanical means? Like if they did find some fossilized remains?”

  “We can’t make blood, and we’re at least as far along, scientifically and technologically speaking, as the Cofah.”

  Duck scratched his head. By now, Apex probably knew why he was being invited along, but Duck looked a little mystified.

  “Wondering what your role is going to be on this mission, Duck?” Ridge asked.

  “No, sir. Well, yes, sir.” Duck lowered his hand. “But I got stuck on the idea of dragons and people making like jacks and mares in heat.”

  Apex tilted his head. “An inaccurate simile, since the offspring between a horse and a donkey is sterile. The human children born to those matings were perfectly viable, as evinced by the fact that people with dragon blood were born for centuries after.”

  Duck’s face screwed up. “But how… I mean dragons are—” he stretched out his arms to their fullest spread, “—and people are…” He pulled his hands into encompass something much smaller.

  Ridge smirked, but he eyed Apex as well. He was just as curious about the answer. He supposed Sardelle would know, but he had never thought to ask. Talk of magic and the origins of magic made him twitchy. He ought to put this whole conversation to bed and send these men off to pack.

  “According to the histories, dragons could take human form,” Apex said. “Like many other species, there were always far more male dragons born than female dragons, and only the strongest and most desirable males were taken as mates. Those who wanted offspring, or were simply feeling randy, shape-changed and mated with other species. Not only humans. This all happened so long ago that it’s difficult to prove any of it, mind you, but some of the rarer and quirkier species out there with inexplicable traits that border on the magical—such as unicorns, winged tigers, and flash apes—are believed to have come about due to dragon blood. Most of these creatures are nothing more than stuffed reproductions in museums now, having either been hunted to extinction or having had their blood diluted through the generations until the peculiar traits disappeared, but you still hear stories of them now and again, especially in the wilder and less explored areas of the world.”