05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory (34 page)

“Yes, sir.” A yawn almost swallowed Duck’s last word.

“Go get some sleep. I think the bedroom’s open.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ridge wouldn’t have minded a spot to rest for a few hours, either, but as soon as the king finished talking to Kaika, he would want his ride back into the city. Ridge wondered what version of the story she was giving
him
. He also wondered if he might have liked things better if he had also received that version. Knowing it had been Lieutenant Ahn’s hand that had slain Apex did not make anything easier. He didn’t blame her—as soon as Sardelle had frowned doubtfully at that sword, he should have found a way to lock it away somewhere that nobody could use it. But he did worry that Ahn would blame herself, and he didn’t think anything good could come of that. What if she never came back at all?

She’s actually turning onto this street now
, Sardelle whispered into his thoughts. She was leaning against the wall at the corner of the house. Had she heard him talking to Duck? Or maybe she was eavesdropping on the king’s conversation, as he had thought to do.

We had this discussion before.
Sardelle smiled at him.
It’s not eavesdropping if I happen to be standing nearby while you’re discussing things in a normal tone of voice in an open area.

Yes, I do remember that. Does the same rule apply if you’re hanging from a vine while listening?

Whoever would listen while hanging from a vine?

Never mind. I better go meet Ahn. She doesn’t have that cursed blade with her, does she?

No. We left it in the rubble at the castle.

Rubble that would eventually be cleared. He grimaced. If the king was still talking to him after he heard the full story, Ridge would have to lobby for someone to have that thing taken out to sea and dropped in the Forbidden Trench.

As Ridge circled toward the front of the house, he watched Sardelle walk through the kitchen door. A great plume of smoke wafted out as she entered. Once everyone cleared out of the house—and there was no risk of the king overhearing any yelling—Ridge expected a lecture from his mother. A loud one.

Ahn stood in front of the house, looking at the front door, as if debating whether she truly wanted to go up and knock. He could understand the sentiment. Her short hair was tousled, her clothes ripped and stained, and her slouch hinted of weariness far greater than anyone as young as she was should feel. He did not see a horse, so she might have walked the entire way. She held an envelope, the creamy, smudge-free paper contrasting with her dirty hand.

When she spotted him, she stood straighter, her hand twitching upward. It didn’t make it all the way to a salute. Instead, her shoulders slumped again, and she stared bleakly at his boots.

Ridge walked over, having no more idea of what to say to her than he had for Duck. For lack of a better opening, he started the same way.

“You going to be able to fly? I’m trying to get our machines back. I got the king—” Ridge pointed his thumb toward the house, “—so that might happen more easily now.”

Ahn blinked a few times and stared at the front door. That probably was not the opening she had expected.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I mean… I can if you need me to, but I…” She looked down at the envelope, took a slow breath, then held it out to him. “I came to report for punishment and also to resign my commission.”

Ridge looked at the envelope without moving his hand to accept it.

“I know I’ll still be tried by military law… when that time comes, but I can’t go back to—” She swallowed and looked down the street. A couple of chickens were wandering in the dirt lane, pecking for bugs. “I figure if I’m going to be killing people indiscriminately, I might as well be working for my father.”

“Ahn,” Ridge said, then gripped her shoulder. “Caslin. I can’t promise that there won’t be repercussions for the choices we’ve all made here—especially me—but see what they are first. Don’t assume—look, I get it. The queen gave some order, and the sword leaped to obey. You were just the one holding it.”

“I
chose
to be holding it, sir.” Ahn dropped her gaze again. “It had some pull I don’t understand, but I should have seen through that. I don’t even
like
swords. They’re barbaric. Who chooses to kill someone like that?” Her voice cracked on the word kill, and she blinked again, this time not with surprise but to stave off tears.

Ridge released her. He had no idea what to say. He thought about offering her a hug, but he was probably part of the problem, since he represented authority—as ironic as that may be—and she expected punishment. As difficult as he found it to admit, Tolemek was the better person for her to talk to right now. Of everyone here, he could truly understand what it was like to be powerless to stop deaths one was responsible for.

“Let’s worry about it after we’ve dealt with the Cofah threat,” Ridge said. “I shot down a reconnaissance flier this morning, so you better believe more will be coming. In the meantime, Tolemek is in the kitchen, sooting up the walls and hopefully not asphyxiating my mom’s cats. Maybe you should check on him.”

From the mixed expression on her face, she wasn’t as certain as he was that Tolemek was the right person for her to see, but she said, “Yes, sir.” She took a step toward the door, but paused again and lifted the envelope. “Will you accept my resignation? For after the battle?”

“No, I won’t. You know I hate paperwork. You’ll have to see if General Ort will take that.”

“Isn’t he still missing?”

“Yes, he is. Just try giving it to him.”

Before she could object further, Ridge pointed her toward the kitchen door, so she wouldn’t walk through the king’s meeting. Sardelle must have told Tolemek that Ahn had arrived, because that side door opened, and he stepped out.

Ahn was only a few steps from the house, but she hesitated, dropping her gaze to the walkway. Tolemek crossed the distance and wrapped her in a hug, lowering his face to the top of her head. Ahn tipped forward, leaning her forehead into his chest, but she did not return the hug. Her arms drooped at her sides with her shoulders slumped. Ridge couldn’t remember seeing anyone look so dejected.

Tolemek murmured something and led Ahn toward the house. She shambled along slowly, but at least she went with him. When Tolemek glanced toward Ridge, Ridge nodded once. He doubted the former pirate cared about receiving his approval, but Ridge would give it, anyway. He truly believed Tolemek would be the best person to comfort Ahn. To his surprise, Tolemek returned the solemn nod before they disappeared inside.

Left alone in the yard, Ridge rubbed his face and looked up at the sky. The clouds had returned, and their somber gray matched his mood. He wondered if the gods would laugh at him if he prayed for the Cofah attack to be delayed for another six months.

A distant buzz drifted to his ears, and he slumped. He had a feeling the gods were about to mock him.

He walked out into the street, hopping a few puddles, then turning for a view of the sky in the direction of the propeller noise. He found the source against the gray backdrop, and his heart lifted. This time, the flier was bronze. It was too far away to see the pilot or the animal snout painted on the nose that would identify the squadron, but Ridge found himself grinning, anyway. It had to be one of his comrades on the way back from one of the other bases. Someone had heard his message and was coming.

He almost waved, but the pilot would never see him at this distance. Besides, who would be looking down at a tiny community plopped down in the middle of a bunch of farmland? Instead, he scanned the sky behind it, longing to see other aircraft coming into view. He would take any help he could get, but a single one-man flier wouldn’t add much to the empty hangars.

As the bronze craft flew overhead to the west, Ridge spotted a few dark dots on the horizon. He grinned again. Maybe the gods were finally on his side. That looked like five—no, six more fliers. Maybe they belonged to his squadron. It felt as if an eternity had passed since he had seen Crash, Blazer, and Thasel. He’d even give Pimples a hug if the kid walked up right now.

But his grin faded as those aircraft flew closer, the buzz of their propellers audible now. These fliers were not the same bronze as the first one. Their dark paint filled Ridge with dread. Even worse, there were heads visible above those cockpits, so they weren’t automated. Fliers piloted by real people with real and cunning human brains were chasing whoever was in that single Iskandian craft.

“Cofah,” he whispered and sprinted for the house. “Sardelle!” he cried, having already decided in that split second that there was nobody else here that he wanted in the seat behind him to help catch those craft before they annihilated the Iskandian one.

• • • • •

Sardelle gripped the sides of her seat, not complaining when the wind whipped the tail of Ridge’s scarf into her face. She was too busy panting from their wild sprint across people’s yards, around barns, and through pigpens in order to reach the field with the flier in it. She couldn’t hear or see the Cofah craft Ridge had spoken of, and she hoped they could catch them before it was too late for the Iskandian pilot.

I could take care of that for you
, Jaxi said.

Sardelle hadn’t had time to grab anything else from the house, but she had belted the soulblade on as she ran.
What?

The scarf. You’ve seen me cut through steel vault doors and ancient pyramids. A thin, little scarf would be a simple matter.

I don’t think Ridge would be amenable to that. He uses the end to wipe his goggles during flight.

I could incinerate those specks of engine grease that trouble him
, Jaxi suggested.

Sardelle imagined Ridge’s alarm when flames burst from his goggles.

You’re awfully chatty right now, Jaxi.
The flier lurched into motion and bumped across the uneven field. Sardelle buckled herself into the harness. If this was like their last battle, she might end up upside down at some point.
Feeling perky?

You know I like to go into battle.

Sardelle did not share the feeling, preferring the healer’s tent to a battlefield, but it pleased her that Ridge had asked for her in between ordering Tolemek to finish making something brilliant and ordering Cas, Duck, and Kaika to ensure the king got back to his castle. There hadn’t been time to wait for objections—or counter orders—for which Sardelle was also glad. She’d only glimpsed Angulus’s face on her way to grab her sword, but it had been much less expressive than it had been when she had first awoken,
before
he had known his wife had been killed. He could have been thinking anything behind his stony facade. She hoped that it wasn’t about how he would avenge the queen’s death.

“Can you sense them?” Ridge called over his shoulder.

I’ll check
, Sardelle spoke into his mind, abashed that she hadn’t already thought to look. In the minutes that had passed while she and Ridge ran to the field, the fliers might have escaped her range, but Jaxi ought to be able to sense aircraft at a greater distance.

Yes, I can. And I do. They’re about halfway back to the city. The ugly black ones are shooting at the bronze one.

Sardelle was about to relay the message, but Jaxi added,
I told him too. He appreciated that I identified the Cofah aircraft as ugly. He also appreciates that I’m along.

You got all that when he’s busy flying and worrying about his man?

It may have been a general sense of appreciation for the information. I extrapolated.

Sardelle snorted.

She leaned to the side, searching the sky ahead with her mind, as well as her eyes, the former being more effective since she didn’t have goggles. The wind teared her eyes and tried to whip hair free from her braid, but she located the six Cofah aircraft flying in a triangular formation. The one soaring at the point was doing the most firing at the target ahead of them. Sardelle could see little more than a bronze smudge at this distance, but she could tell that dark gray smoke wafted from the belly of the craft. The Iskandian flier had already taken damage. Enough to bring it down eventually? She couldn’t tell.

Stiff wind came from the sea, and cold rain droplets flew sideways, stinging her cheeks. She flexed her fingers, both to keep them warm and because she was ready to use them. She wanted to help, wanted to prove to King Angulus that she was worth keeping around—and alive. And, as always, she wanted to help Ridge keep his people alive. She didn’t want to see him lose anyone else.

The craft vibrated enough to make Sardelle’s teeth rattle. Ridge was pushing it to its maximum speed and then some. Sardelle took slow breaths, telling herself to remain calm, that he knew what he was doing. Seeing bullet holes in the hull had made Sardelle pause, but Ridge had climbed in without hesitation. If he believed the craft flight-worthy, it must be. Still, she hadn’t been able to keep from thinking that her powers might not be enough to save them if they crashed.

I believe we’re close enough that I could bother them
, Jaxi said at the same time as the fliers grew closer, their dark shapes hugging the clouds.
Do we want rashes to inconvenience them?
Or fireballs to utterly destroy them?

If six of them are chasing one lone Iskandian flier on our continent, I believe Ridge’s vote would be for fireballs.

Yes. I approve of this relationship of yours.

I’m so glad.

The rattling of their flier increased, and Sardelle gripped the edges of her seat again. Ridge was pushing to close the distance, but she doubted they could before the other fliers reached the city. Would the Cofah dare enter the space over the capital? She wasn’t sure what the full capabilities of the artillery weapons down there were, but knew some could reach high enough to strike low-flying craft.

Almost close enough for pyrotechnics
, Jaxi purred.

Even though Sardelle was alarmed at their speed already, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the air behind them. She assumed the rattling was due to the strain of the engine rather than any problem with their velocity—and she hoped that assumption wouldn’t get them killed—so she channeled the wind, trying to give them a tunnel to fly through, one that the other aircraft did not have.