6.0 - Raptor (36 page)

Cas leaned the sword box against the wall by the door. She felt silly dragging it around the fort, but she hadn’t wanted to take it up to her cabin on the airship. When the dragon came, she would need to be ready quickly.

She moved past silverware and other oddly mundane household items and headed for the bookcase. All of the old tomes had been tagged and entered into a logbook that lay open on a table, but from the dust covering their spines, she doubted anyone had done more than glance at the titles. A pair of thick gloves rested on the table next to a pencil and the logbook. For handling the centuries-old texts without damaging them? More likely, as some kind of protection to keep magic evils from oozing all over the skin of the person touching the artifacts. She supposed she shouldn’t snort with derision since, until a few months ago, she hadn’t believed magic existed, but she had always found it asinine to believe in superstitions. Some of her father’s prejudices that she had grown up with, maybe. It was ironic that, in a way, those who had believed in and feared magic had been closer to the truth all along.

“One hundred and fifty books,” she murmured after a quick count. “What are the odds that information about Kasandral happens to be in one of them? And that I’ll be able to read it if it’s there.” She frowned at the flowery titles, some containing letters that had since changed to other forms or disappeared from the language.

Apex would have known right away which titles might be useful, and he would have been able to read them all too. For a moment, all Cas could do was stand and stare at the books—and miss him. She hadn’t been as close with him as with the lieutenants who were closer in age to her, but he’d been a memorable part of the squadron, with his penchant for sharing historical tales in the middle of missions. And he’d had so much knowledge. She felt his loss keenly, especially now.

“Twenty-four hours,” she mumbled, shaking herself out of her numb stillness.

She had heard about the ultimatum from the dragon, and knew that half of those hours were already gone. From what she had observed, nobody was down in the mines digging for the artifact that Morishtomaric sought, so she assumed the original plan was still in effect, that she would be expected to go up with Zirkander tomorrow to attack the dragon in the sky. Since Sardelle had spent the day trapped, Cas doubted she had been able to do any research on Kasandral. Cas didn’t know how much having phrases to speak to the sword would help with controlling it, but she wanted to put every advantage on her side that she could.

She skimmed through the titles in the logbook, flagging three that promised to share histories of magic, then hunted them down on the shelves. The first two came out easily, but when she touched the third, a tingle of electricity zapped her.

Startled, she backed away, staring at her finger, half expecting the pad to be blackened. She glanced at the gloves on the table. Maybe they were there for more than reasons of superstition.

That one’s only for those with dragon blood. You should have brought your scruffy pirate to read it to you.

Irritation arose in Cas’s mind with such ferocity that it left her gripping the shelf for support. She glared back at the sword box, knowing it was responsible.

“Jaxi?” Cas asked, forcing her voice to remain calm though that feeling of irritation continued to bubble within her.

She wondered what Sardelle’s soulblade wanted. Jaxi had included her in group communications before, but she did not make a habit of telepathically conversing with Cas.

Everyone else is asleep. And I sensed that small discharge of magic. I’m right downstairs in a room with Ridge and Sardelle. They’re curled up on a bunk together, snoring and being extremely boring.

Cas wished she and Tolemek were curled up boringly. He was up on the airship, working on his dragon-blood-eating acid. Cas still hoped that something might come of that and she wouldn’t be forced to wield the sword, but with so little time remaining, she feared Tolemek wouldn’t be able to finish the project. Even if he did, it might be an ancillary tactic, rather than one that could spare her from the fight.

“He’s not scruffy,” Cas said. “He’s handsome.”

I’ll think him more handsome if he succeeds in making dragon-slaying bullets. That would be a historic first, I believe.

“Jaxi, can you help me research these books?” Cas eyed the one that had zapped her.

I’m way ahead of you. I already skimmed most of these earlier in the day, before Phelistoth’s disaster forced me to turn my attention to keeping us alive.

One of the books to Cas’s right shifted, the spine pushing out from the shelf. She jumped back, gaping. Yes, she was talking to a magical sword, so she shouldn’t be alarmed by the unexpected, but there was something creepy about things moving about in a room where she was all alone.

Creepy.
A sniffing noise sounded in Cas’s head.
Really.

The book floated away from the shelf, opened itself with a soft groan from the ancient spine, and came to rest on the table. Kasandral continued to flood Cas with feelings of anger and discontent. She tried to wall herself off from it, to ignore the box and focus on the book. Despite the yellowed pages, the black ink was still dark and surprisingly easy to see, the letters well formed and clear. Too bad the words didn’t make much sense.

It’s old. Old things often don’t make sense.

“Can you read this?”

I can read anything written in the last nine hundred years or so. There was a major shift in written Iskandian when Cofahre invaded and forced us to switch to their louse-covered language, so don’t ask me to read anything from before that time period. But Sardelle understands a lot of the old stuff, so I can wake her to ask her to translate if we find something promising.

Cas hated the idea of waking her up when she must be exhausted after being buried alive for most of the day.

She won’t mind, not for research questions. She loves research. She only gets crabby when I interrupt her during her lovemaking. She also doesn’t care for commentary or critique on techniques. Apparently, she’s not on the same quest for self-betterment that I’m on.

“Uh.” Cas had no idea what to say to that, but she wondered if Jaxi might be a distant relative of Captain Kaika’s. She tapped the open book to see if she would get zapped. “Tools from the First Dragon Era?” she guessed at the title. Numbers did not seem to have changed, and the word for dragon was the same, aside from extra marks over vowels that weren’t a part of the written language now.

That’s right. I saw a chapter on swords when I was skimming earlier. Also, I can read this book, as it’s only eight hundred years old, so it might be a place to start. Kasandral is much older than this book, though, so I can’t promise that he’ll be mentioned. It depends on how thorough the author was on researching items from the past.

The pages flipped past before Cas could touch them, opening to a chapter near the back.

“Was there ever a Second Dragon Era?” Cas wondered, eyeing the title in the logbook, wondering if there might be any useful notes on it. There weren’t. She doubted whoever had cataloged these artifacts had spent any time looking at them, especially the insides of them.

Interestingly, no. It is a little strange that there’s an entire block of two thousand years called that, isn’t it? Why call it the first unless there were others? I actually never wondered about that before.
Several pages flipped.
Here’s something about anti-magic swords.

Cas pulled a chair over and sat in front of the book, though she wasn’t sure what the point was, since she couldn’t read much of it. Maybe the sword would like it if she appeared a studious pupil.

Jaxi made a snorting noise.
You’re thinking of Sardelle. She taught students in the summers. Since she’d always been a studious pupil, she expected everyone else to be the same and was disheartened and distressed when they weren’t. Hm.
Jaxi was silent for a moment, then went on with,
All right, listen up. You’ve probably already figured this out, but here’s a disclaimer that would have been nice if it had come glued to that sword.

Cas nodded. “I’m listening.”

Anti-magic tools were made with magic, using a type of enchantment that has been forgotten in recent centuries, since dragons dwindled from the skies and the need for weapons that could harm them died out. Even though the tools were crafted with magic, they were specifically designed to combat all things magical, including dragons and their riders, usually people possessing dragon blood. Some tools were imbued with personalities, similar to that of a guard dog, so they could act as seekers of dragon blood as well as weapons to be used against it.

“Seekers?” Cas recalled that while Zirkander’s group had been gone, the flier squadrons had been sent out to hunt down witches and kill them, and that they had supposedly had some tool that allowed them to do so. Kasandral had been with her at the time, so did that mean there was some other tool like it out there? A tool that also made the person who carried it want to attack those with dragon blood?

Possibly so. Sardelle wasn’t told much about that, and therefore I wasn’t, either, though Ridge may have some details in his fancy new general’s office, if not yet in his brain. That won’t be important for tomorrow’s battle, so let me continue.

“Sorry, go ahead.”

You
are
a good student. No lippiness or anything. Are you sure you’re one of Ridge’s people?

Cas almost said that she wasn’t anymore, but she thought of their conversation earlier. Zirkander’s suggestion that staying and serving could be her penance. She knew he wanted her to stay for the good of the squadron, and that motivated his words somewhat, but she had definitely sensed that he had spoken from experience, too, and that he truly did understand. And maybe he was right. Running away was the easier route, and staying was the uncomfortable one, the one that she could only choose if she had the courage to do so.

“Yes,” Cas said. “I am.”

What? I was reading on.

“Never mind. What else do I need to know?” Cas itched to ask about the words of power, but made herself wait. This other information could prove useful too.

Much, I’m certain. But I assume you mean specifically about your guard dog.
Another page flipped.
The tools were made to fight dragons and sorcerers from enemy nations, but it does state in here, several times in fact, that they are a danger to allies as well, and that they must be kept on short leashes.

“Yes.” Cas leaned forward, skimming the words for herself, even though she could only understand every other one. “How do I leash Kasandral?”

A surly grumpiness poked at her, and she glanced back at the box. Yes, that sword definitely needed a leash.

The makers of these tools instilled them with command words and phrases, again, much like would be taught to a dog, so they would act in an appropriate manner and so their wielders could control them. Their wielders had to be people without magic themselves, because the tools would fight against their handlers if they sensed dragon blood
. Two more pages turned.
Ah ha. Here’s a list. Several lists. That one is for shields, that one for spears, that one for bows—goodness, I wonder what ever happened to all of these weapons. There’s the entry for swords. There’s nothing about Kasandral specifically, but you might want to write down that list.

Cas stared blankly at the pages open before her. Aside from the headings, the words in the list were completely incomprehensible. The alphabet wasn’t even familiar. She remembered that the words the queen had uttered had sounded like nonsense to her. Would she even be able to pronounce these?

Make a copy for yourself. I’ll wake up Sardelle, assuming she and Ridge haven’t shifted from snoring to rutting. They’re quite randy.

Cas did her best not to blush. Jaxi might even be
worse
than Kaika. At least Kaika divulged details of her own adventures, rather than gossiping about those of others. “Do you share information on their sex lives with everyone you talk to?”

Well, I don’t talk to that many people. Start copying. I’ll be right back.

A stiff gale hammered the window, rattling the glass in its frame. Rain slashed past, drops thick enough to see even from her seat in the middle of the room. Cas hoped the weather cleared by morning. Battling a dragon in the rain did not sound enjoyable. Of course, if it rained hard enough, maybe Morishtomaric would stay in a cave somewhere.

The doorknob rattled, and Cas turned. Had Jaxi instructed Sardelle to come up here in person? She glanced at Kasandral’s box, fear pouring into her. What would the sword do? What might it make
her
do?

“Nothing,” she whispered to herself firmly. From the box, Kasandral had no control over her. She willed that to be the truth.

When the door opened, the big uniformed figure that stepped inside was definitely not Sardelle.

Cas lurched to her feet and saluted. “Sir,” she said, forgetting that she wasn’t technically an officer at the moment. Still, she was wearing the uniform and she had been contemplating Zirkander’s suggestion that she return.

Colonel Therrik, his hard face a mix of shadow and light from the lantern he carried at his waist, frowned at her. He looked around the room, then at the lantern on her table, then at the book, and his frown deepened into a scowl. His cap and the shoulders of his uniform jacket were wet, and water dripped down the sides of his thick neck. He must have spotted her light from the courtyard. So much for her thought that everyone would be asleep and avoiding the storm.

“What are you doing in here, soldier?” Therrik didn’t look like he recognized her in the poor lighting. Not that they had ever spoken to each other or spent time together. “With that—
that
?” He pointed at the open book.