6.0 - Raptor (42 page)

A roar of pleasure sounded in her mind, Kasandral’s satisfied cry.

The dragon screeched, dropping the purple object to the ground. It pulsed, shedding lavender rays onto the hail and mud. Cas had no idea whether it was a weapon or not, but she dared not look at it. Morishtomaric wheeled in the air, spinning toward her.

Cas jumped, trying to reach him for another swipe, but he was more than ten feet above the ground now. Even with the sword’s reach, it wasn’t enough. The blade swiped through the air a foot below those flexing talons. A flash of chagrin filled her as she realized Therrik would have been tall enough to land that blow.

Move!
Jaxi cried, and an image of flames filled Cas’s mind.

Morishtomaric opened his mouth. Cas sprinted for the tram tower, nearly crashing into the car hanging there. The metal supports of the tower wouldn’t keep the flames from roasting her. She leaped into the car, sending Kasandral’s box skittering.

Orange light and heat engulfed the tower. Cas rolled to the side of the car entrance, the sword clattering on the metal flooring. Sweltering air blasted her skin. The glass windows cracked, then blistered and started to melt. Cas tried to close the door, but already, it was too hot to touch. She yanked her burned fingers away. All she could do was roll to the side wall, hoping the metal car wouldn’t melt around her.

The cable snapped, and the car fell to the ground with a jolt. The air scorched Cas’s lungs, and she covered her mouth with her sleeve. She couldn’t take much more of this.

Jaxi
, she yelled in her mind.
Kasandral
. Couldn’t any of these swords help her?

The flames stopped. With the air and the metal flooring under her still so hot, she might not have noticed right away, had the light level not dimmed a thousand times.

Cas wanted to stay in a tiny ball until the dragon went away forever, but she made herself rise to her knees. She’d dropped Kasandral, and she reached for it as she tried to see through the half-melted windows. Metal had melted, too, and splatted to the floor all around her like candle wax.

Another screech came from outside, similar to the earlier one. Who was attacking Morishtomaric now? Hope rose in her chest that some weapon had gotten through.

Kasandral’s hilt burned her hand, and she hissed in pain. Though she wanted to leave it, she dragged her jacket sleeve over her palm, grabbed the weapon, and scrambled out of the car.

The purple thing, some sort of crystalline structure about a foot and a half tall, pulsed in the hail-covered mud in front of the tram shaft. The dragon was gone. Cas ran over and kicked the crystal back into the shaft. At the least, she could make it harder for Morishtomaric to retrieve it when he came back from wherever he had gone.

Another screech sounded from the sky above her, and she realized he wasn’t gone. He was under attack.

Phelistoth had changed into his natural form again, and he and Morishtomaric were writhing in the air, biting and clawing at each other. Dread filled her stomach as she saw how much smaller their dragon was than the golden one. Gunshots rang from the walls of the outpost, but Cas knew they would not do any good. She didn’t even know if the soldiers were targeting the right dragon.

He won’t last long
, Jaxi said.
Hurry to the fliers. I’m trying to wake the others. Plan B.

Chapter 18

W
ake up
, Jaxi ordered. Judging by the exasperated tone of the words, it wasn’t her first time saying them.

Sardelle sat up. She was on the floor in the office where she and the others had discussed strategy that morning, the office where they had inhaled Tolemek’s concoctions in order to knock themselves out. Ridge still lay unconscious beside her. General Ort was slumped in a chair at the table.

Wake up your soul snozzle too. He needs to get in his flier. It didn’t work, and there’s not much time.

Saving the questions for later, Sardelle rested her hand on Ridge’s shoulder. She pushed aside the fog in her mind and the headache Tolemek’s potion had left her with to clear the drug out of Ridge’s system. Though she was focusing on the work, she couldn’t help but hear the thunder of cannons and the hail of rifle fire outside.

Some of that hail is actual hail, and some of that thunder is real too. It’s a mess out there.

Ridge’s eyes popped open. He winced, probably having a headache too. When his gaze locked onto hers, it was cogent, the question in his eyes clear.

“Plan B,” she said.

Cursing, he rolled to his feet. He staggered, caught himself on the table, and raced out the door. Sardelle looked toward General Ort, wondering if she should stay behind to wake him, but he wasn’t part of the flight contingent for Plan B. He should wake soon enough on his own. Judging by the commotion outside, Sardelle might be needed right away.

She ran through the empty hallway to the stairs, taking the steps four at a time. Even with her haste, she was well behind Ridge. He’d already climbed to the rooftop by the time she stepped outside. A hail pellet the size of a coin smacked her shoulder, and she faltered. Seven gods, he couldn’t fly in this. The cockpits were open, and the wings were made from cloth. They had a waterproof sealant, but could that protect the material from hail like this?

No choice
, Jaxi said, and Sardelle looked up.

Phelistoth and Morishtomaric fought in the air above the fort. Sardelle’s first worry was that Tylie was around and in danger, but when she checked, she sensed the young woman in her room with her nose pressed to the window. Surprised Phelistoth had intervened and was helping them, Sardelle ran up the stairs to the rooftop.

Don’t be so surprised. Morishtomaric came up with the crystal our dragon wants for himself.

Ah.

Down in the courtyard, Pimples was already in his cockpit. On the rooftop, Duck was helping Kaika load a pack full of explosives into the back seat of his flier. Ridge was hefting a crate into his own craft. He jumped up and pulled himself in after it. Therrik stood on the rooftop, too, though he was yelling at someone in the closest artillery tower rather than having anything to do with the aircraft.

Sardelle spotted Cas standing next to Ridge’s flier and froze. She carried Kasandral, the sword out of his box and glowing that familiar sickly green.

His complexion hasn’t improved, has it?
Jaxi asked.

Cas met her eyes, concern blossoming on her face. But she firmed her chin and nodded once, as if to say she had full control of the sword. Sardelle hoped so. Either way, Cas would be in the sky with Ridge soon and not close enough to reach her. It would be fine.

A pained screech came from the sky above and stirred Sardelle into motion. Fat blood drops spattered the frosty roof as the dragons fought overhead. How they clawed and bit and lashed out with their tails without falling from the air, she couldn’t tell.

“Pimples has room in his flier, Sardelle,” Ridge called to her without looking up. He was loading bands of bullets into his machine guns. “Are you coming up with us?”

Was she? She looked at the fighting dragons, then toward the soldiers on the walls, and toward miners watching from the barracks buildings that hadn’t been destroyed, men and women who were staying out of the way but who couldn’t tear their gazes from the battle. She thought of the miner with the dragon blood, a man who may or may not have deserved to be here and who had died for nothing. As much as she wanted to stay close to Ridge, there were hundreds of lives at stake down here. Besides, if the battle stayed as close as it was now—she glanced at the blood drops on the roof—she could help him
and
protect the fort.

“I’ll stay here and do my best to shield these people,” Sardelle said, “but I’ll keep an eye on you too.”

Therrik had stopped bellowing at his men, and he must have heard her statement, because he looked over at her. She couldn’t tell if he intended to say something sarcastic, but it didn’t matter. Ridge was hopping down from his flier and running toward her.

He hugged her fiercely. “I know you will. Even if I don’t deserve it.”

She returned the embrace, burying her face in his shoulder. “You deserve everything you have and more.”

“I love delusional women.” He kissed her, then raced back to his flier as another ear-splitting screech sounded from above. Before pulling himself into the cockpit, he glared over at Therrik. “You try to stab Sardelle in the back while I’m up there, and I’ll hunt you down in my flier and fill you full of bullets.”

Therrik snorted. “Save your bluster for the dragon, Zirkander.”

Ridge swung up into the cockpit. “Ahn, you coming?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cas reached up to toss Kasandral into the seat behind him, but she froze as words sounded in Sardelle’s mind.

Antyonla masahrati!

It was Morishtomaric’s voice.

Sardelle yanked Jaxi from her scabbard. She might not have remembered those words if she hadn’t been translating them the night before, but they were the same ones the queen had shouted right before Kasandral possessed Cas in the castle.

Cas responded right away, her eyes growing round for a second, then narrowing with determination. She lowered Kasandral and assumed a fighting stance. At first, her gaze locked onto the fighting dragons, and Sardelle thought the sword might focus on them as the greater threats—the greater sources of dragon blood.

Then Cas spun toward her.

Not again
, Jaxi groaned into her mind. She flared with bluish silver energy, and power flowed into Sardelle’s limbs, but she knew Jaxi didn’t want this fight, not now. Sardelle didn’t want it, either. Not with the dragons trying to kill each other right over their heads. Phelistoth was buying them time, time they needed to use wisely.

Cas advanced toward her, that horrified expression on her face again.

“
Meriyash keeno
,” Sardelle yelled, making sure Kasandral heard her over the gunfire and dragon screeches. They were the words that should order the sword to stand down. If Cas couldn’t manage to utter them in her present state of mind, Sardelle would do it for her.

Cas hesitated. Ridge jumped down from the flier and grabbed her from behind.

“Stand down, Ahn,” he ordered. “Wrong target.”

Antyonla masahrati!
Morishtomaric repeated, power lacing the command.

Cas jabbed backward with her elbow with more force than she could have mustered on her own. Ridge stumbled away from her, clutching his solar plexus. Sardelle lifted a hand and created an invisible barrier in the air between her and Cas. Off to the side, Therrik advanced toward them, but she had no idea if he meant to help stop Cas… or to help Cas kill her. Kaika and Duck jumped down from the other flier, but they were on the other side of the roof.

Cas’s lips moved. She seemed to be uttering the stand-down words, but Kasandral only flared more brightly. The blade swiped sideways, cutting into Sardelle’s barrier. It disappeared, like a popped soap bubble. Sardelle struggled to remake it, but Cas was already lunging for her.

Damn it, how had the dragon known the blade’s command words?

Ridge drew his pistol and aimed at the back of Cas’s leg, but he hesitated to shoot. Sardelle couldn’t blame him. Not only was she a friend, but they needed her to fight the dragon. She needed to figure out how to break Morishtomaric’s influence on Kasandral before drastic measures were required.

Meriyash keeno,
Sardelle repeated, this time using telepathy and focusing the words right at the blade.

Cas was close enough to strike. Her movements were jerky, her face flushing red with the effort of trying to stop Kasandral.

Silver scales flashed, and the roof trembled. Phelistoth landed on his back, flung down by Morishtomaric, who flapped his wings in the sky twenty feet above them. Blood streamed from those silver scales, and Phelistoth lay stunned for a moment, his legs in the air like those of an upturned turtle. Hail bounced off his exposed belly.

Sardelle raised Jaxi, intending to help shield him if she could. Surely Morishtomaric would attack, pressing the advantage and not worrying about the humans on the roof. Instead, he swept toward the courtyard, toward the shaft where he had dropped his crystal.

Cas roared, the sword flaring such a bright green that it hurt to look at it. Instead of lunging at Sardelle again, she ran toward Phelistoth, Kasandral leading the way.

“No,” Sardelle yelled, then shouted the command words again. “Not him.”

Ridge charged in from the side and dove. Cas swung at Phelistoth’s defenseless side. Ridge slammed into her legs before the blade bit in. They tumbled to the ground, and the sword flew from Cas’s grip. It skidded across the roof, bits of hail flying in its wake, and landed at Therrik’s feet. The green glow flashed, beckoning him to pick it up.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sardelle yelled and tried to use her power to fling it away from him.

When Kasandral had been in his box, that had worked, but now the gust of wind she created blew right across the blade without doing anything. Therrik bent down and picked up the sword.

Ridge jumped to his feet, his pistol out again. He aimed it at Therrik’s chest.

“Drop it.”

A boom sounded from above. The airship was firing at Morishtomaric. Phelistoth rolled over, the corner of the roof crumbling underneath him. He caught himself on the edge and pulled himself back up, his legs underneath him now. For a moment, he looked at Ridge and Therrik, who were so busy staring at each other, the glow of Kasandral between them, that they did not notice the dragon’s movement.

Sardelle had no idea if a bullet would stop Therrik when Kasandral was in his hand. Jaxi could block gunfire. She brushed Therrik’s mind and tried to convince him to drop the sword, but it was like grasping at dandelion seeds in the wind. She couldn’t get a grip.

Cas climbed to her feet and pulled out her own pistol. She gave Sardelle a look of anguish, but she didn’t say anything. She added her weapon to the one already trained on Therrik.