05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory (35 page)

“Wolf Squadron 74 to home,” Ridge spoke to the communication crystal, the wind almost stealing his words before Sardelle heard them. “This is Colonel Zirkander. Is anybody manning the desk?”

A silent moment passed, and Sardelle could feel his disappointment. He couldn’t even warn the city as to what was coming.

“What do you want, Zirkander?” came a rough voice over the crystal. It was muted and tinny, but Sardelle recognized it as soon as the speaker added, “And is this thrice-cursed rock magic,
too
?”

Rock? Was that oaf referring to her master crystal? She had painstakingly crafted that over a week.

“Quit whining, Therrik,” Ridge said. “There are six enemy fliers heading for the city. They’ll be there any minute. If any of our fliers are back, get them in the air. Get your infantry buddies on the guns too.”

Therrik’s only response was a curse.

So good to know he’s got our backs
, Ridge thought.
Do you hear me? Is that you helping back there? This is great. We’re making incredible speed.

I do, and I am.

Good. Thank you.
Ridge massaged the trigger of one of his guns.
Almost close enough to—

Flames burst from the tail of the rearmost flier in the formation. Clouds of black smoke poured into the sky. Jaxi cackled.

The pilot craned his head around. Even across the distance and even though the man wore goggles, Sardelle could see the horrified expression contorting his face. He veered away from the formation, descending rapidly. Whether he would be able to land or if a crash was inevitable, Sardelle did not know. Even if these people had marked themselves as enemies, she found she much preferred fighting against the unmanned fliers.

I do too,
Jaxi said.

Your cackle suggested otherwise.
Sardelle fed more wind into her tunnel, propelling Ridge’s flier to even greater speeds. They cruised through the smoke the flaming craft had just left. Ridge took a few introductory shots at a flier in front of them.

That wasn’t a cackle. It was an expression of pleased satisfaction that I was able to toast one of these mechanical monstrosities.

I see.
Sardelle focused on the bronze flier, testing the air currents around and behind it. The craft had slowed down, and the others were gaining. Perhaps if she could give it a boost, it would make a difference. The buildings of the city had come into sight on the horizon, and she could just make out the bluff where the hangars overlooked the harbor.

I may have also been slightly amused when he turned around and tried to blow out the flames
, Jaxi added.

I’m quite certain he was only pursing his lips in horror. Can you shield that Iskandian pilot up there? He’s too far away for me to do it.

I can shield his entire flier while making waffles and buffing my pommel.

Feeling cocky, are we?

Ridge had found his range with the machine guns and was laying into the two remaining fliers in the rear of the formation. They noticed and took evasive measures, as did the two in front of them. The leader of the formation continued after the bronze flier.

I’m staying on him
, Ridge thought.
Anything you can do to keep the others from circling back and jumping on our tail would be appreciated. Tell Jaxi I like her flames.

He’s cackling inside too
, Jaxi said.

The bronze flier dipped its left wing, then spiraled downward, more smoke flowing from its belly. Sardelle could not tell if it was a ploy, or if the craft had succumbed to the damage done.

I haven’t let any new bullets get to him
, Jaxi said,
but his flier was shot up already when we got here.

The Cofah on its tail dipped after it, machine guns blazing. Ridge angled downward, choosing a course that would shave seconds off the descent and perhaps allow him to catch up.

Sardelle was tempted to reach out to the pilot, try to sense whether he was unconscious, conscious and calm, or awake and terrified, but the rest of the Cofah formation was doing as Ridge had predicted, trying to circle back and get behind his flier. Bullets streaked through the air. She did her best to create shields on either side of them. She didn’t want to stop Ridge’s ability to use the machine guns, nor did she want to cut them off from the wind, so she couldn’t protect them as completely as she would have liked.

The bronze flier continued to fall, spiraling toward houses on the outskirts of the capital.

“Sleepy,” Ridge said, his voice utterly calm even though they were arrowing toward the ground at top speed and had bullets coming in from all sides, “if you crash them into the buildings of the city, the ghosts of a hundred past kings will haunt you.”

Sardelle didn’t think he was talking to her, but wasn’t sure if he was hoping to communicate with the pilot in the other flyer or muttering to himself. He fired several more rounds at the Cofah stalking his fellow Iskandian, his fellow Iskandian who was only seconds from crashing into shops lining a wide boulevard below. Sardelle kept shielding them from the fliers trying to get behind Ridge, but found their bullets rarely struck her barrier. Ridge did an uncanny job of avoiding them, even as he stayed on his target’s tail, almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head and could track every other aircraft in the sky.

The Iskandian flier, smoke still streaming from its belly, pulled up at the last second, just avoiding smashing into the roof of a three-story building. It wobbled, its wings shuddering, and it clipped a flagpole before gaining altitude. The Cofah was following, but one of Ridge’s bullets hit him square in the head. The pilot stiffened, then slumped to the side. Instead of pulling up and hanging with the Iskandian, the enemy flier plunged into the street between two buildings. The wings flew off, the fuselage caved in and skidded three blocks, and the wreck ended up coming to a halt in front of the steps of a barber shop. People out in the street had pressed their backs to the closest buildings, and were gaping at the crash and at the sky.

That was the last Sardelle saw, for Ridge was pulling up now, flying through smoke as they gained altitude.

“Sorry, sir,” came a voice over the crystal. That definitely wasn’t Therrik. “I’ve taken damage, didn’t think I could make it to the harbor. Thanks for shooting that ugly feller, but I was hoping he would crash due to my craftiness, rather than your marksmanship.” The firing of a machine gun punctuated the pilot’s words. He had already turned his nose toward the oncoming fliers.

“If you need to get to the base, do it,” Ridge said. “We’ll take care of the rest of these.”

“No, sir. I’m sticking with you. They’ve got rockets that—”

“I’ve seen them before. Stay on my six until you get a chance to shoot. I’ve got a secret weapon.”

That’s me,
Jaxi preened.

It could be me.

All you’ve done so far is generate air. Watch this.

A second Cofah flier burst into flame. This time, the fire emerged from the cockpit, burning the occupant. Sardelle winced as the man’s screams pierced her ears, even over the sounds of wind and machine gun fire. The Cofah flier dipped sharply, arrowing toward the city. The pilot struck a control on the dashboard before losing all conscious thought. A sleek black cylinder shot out. At first, it looked like it would target a building, but then it swooped upward, turning toward the Iskandian fliers.

Oops
, Jaxi thought.

Yes, Sardelle recognized the rocket from their desperate flight from the volcano lab.
Try to incinerate the vial of dragon blood
, she told Jaxi. That had worked once before. The dragon blood itself was impervious to everything, or everything they had tried at least, but once the glass holding it was destroyed, it leaked all over the inside of the machine and could no longer power and guide the weapon.

These vials aren’t made from glass anymore
, Jaxi thought.

What?
Sardelle tried to concentrate on the conversation, but the three fliers filling the sky in front of them made her want to grip Ridge’s shoulders for support.

Shooting with every tilt of his wings, Ridge wove through the formation as if the fliers were cones on some obstacle course. Sardelle felt it suicidal, and she flailed mentally for a second, not sure where to apply her shields to protect them. To her surprise, the number of bullets streaking through the air lessened. The Cofah pilots didn’t want to risk shooting each other, she realized.

That rocket is about to fly up your Iskandian butts
, Jaxi said.

“I’ve got this one, Jaxi,” Ridge yelled. “Handle that rocket that the newcomer just launched, will you?”

Newcomer? Sardelle was about to shore up their rear shield, certain the rocket would smash into them, when Ridge turned sharply to the left, more sharply than she would have thought these fliers could manage. He seemed to defy all of the rules of physics, and Sardelle ducked low in her seat as the belly of a Cofah flier filled her vision. Its propeller buzzed right over her head, the sound like an angry hornet’s nest stuffed in her ears, and she thought all of her hair might be shaved off by its blades. But then they were past the other flier and streaking toward the clouds.

An explosion came from behind them, the force battering at Sardelle’s shield. Their flier rocked in the air despite her protection. She glanced back in time to see the Cofah craft burst into a million pieces.

Nice
, Jaxi crooned in her mind.
He got the rocket to hit one of their fliers. That’s almost as good as spontaneous combustion.

Sardelle took a few shaky breaths, seeking some of the calmness that radiated from Ridge. He had flown in hundreds of battles like this, she reminded herself. Her only dogfight had been with two unmanned fliers. The fact that they were killing people this time was part of what had her trembling. She vowed to do better, not to dwell on the humanness of their opponents until after she and Ridge were safely on the ground.

She focused on one of the two remaining Cofah fliers, finding the two rockets nestled in launchers under the belly of the craft. The pilot was busy firing the machine guns and cursing—Sardelle allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction to know that Ridge was flummoxing these people. Then she examined the firing mechanism of the weapons, trying to figure out what attached to what, so she could sabotage the insides. Too complicated. Instead, she heated the ends of the machine gun barrels, pouring controlled energy into them. The metal grew cherry hot. She nudged the ends together, so the bullets would no longer fly out. Lastly, she brought in a gust of cool air to chill the muzzles.

Sooner than she expected, the pilot tried to fire his guns. She worried that the bullets would simply shoot through her obstruction, that the metal would still be pliable, but a small explosion boomed. The pilot jerked back in his seat, startled. Sardelle didn’t think it would ultimately do anything except deny him a couple of weapons, but the barrel of the guns had blown open and peeled back like flower petals. A piece got in the way of the propeller blade, causing it to jam and freeze up. The flier’s momentum carried it a ways, but it soon tilted downward, falling toward the ground. Sardelle stared, unable to take her gaze from its plummet, newly aware of how fragile these craft were, of how little it took to knock them out of the sky.

“Jaxi?” Ridge called aloud after downing the sixth flier with the help of the other Iskandian pilot. “Sardelle? I’m out of targets to send that rocket into, unless I crash it into the city, which I don’t want to do. Anything you can do?”

Sardelle had almost forgotten about the second rocket. Ridge had been avoiding it so deftly that it seemed he could do it forever, but with the dragon blood powering it, the weapon kept after them, its speed not flagging at all.

I’m having trouble destroying the vial this time
, Jaxi admitted, presumably speaking to both of them.

Their flier twisted through the air like a corkscrew, Ridge doing his best to avoid the rocket. He tried to turn in time to shoot at it, but it was too fast.

The other Iskandian flier had left Ridge’s tail and came in from the side. The pilot unloaded bullets at the rocket. Most missed the sleek, narrow cylinder, but one caught. Sardelle hoped that might be enough to destroy it, and indeed, it was knocked from its path for a second, but it righted itself and sped after Ridge’s flier again.

They switched from glass to iron
, Jaxi added.
Specially treated iron. It’s resisting my attempts to incinerate it.

Sardelle peered into the innards of the rocket, trying to make sense of the circuit board and wires inside. She sensed the encapsulated dragon blood riding in the center near the front and understood what Jaxi meant. Either a shaman had treated that metal, or the Cofah had found some old stash of ingots treated long ago, perhaps in creating armor to battle dragons and sorcerers. It resisted her attempts to melt it.

Let’s destroy the rest of that board and those wires
, Sardelle told Jaxi.
They’re not armored the way the vial is.
Even if she wasn’t an engineer and most of the new contraptions of this century confused her, she assumed that those parts somehow controlled the rocket.

I think your soul snozzle has something else in mind.

Sardelle had sunk low into her seat, losing awareness of their surroundings as she focused on the rocket, so when she sat taller and had a look ahead of them, her stomach nearly dropped to her boots. Black jagged rock filled her vision. She was barely aware of the castle to their left. They couldn’t be more than two seconds from crashing.

Pull up
, she thought—or maybe she screamed it.

At the last instant, Ridge did so. The bottom of their flier’s tail scraped across a jagged boulder protruding above the others. An angry shudder rocked the craft, and Sardelle thought they were dead. Before she could tell if they would be able to rise up again and escape, an explosion ripped the air behind them. She barely had the presence of mind to shore up her shields and protect them from the shockwave.