Soulblade (34 page)

“Boiler room,” she agreed without looking back.

They didn’t run into anyone until they reached it. Kaika and Tolemek slipped through the door without making a noise. Two soot-stained firemen worked inside, wearing coveralls instead of uniforms as they shoveled coal into one of the big furnaces.

“Two minutes,” came a voice from a horn on the wall, the speaker somewhere above decks. “We are departing in two minutes. Engines had better be at full capacity or the emperor will have your heads.”

The firemen grumbled and shoveled faster. Kaika started toward them, her pistol in hand, her face grim. Tolemek stopped her with a hand and pulled out a knockout grenade. He was running low on them, but it was worth it if he could keep from killing two men who might not even be soldiers.

She flung her hand toward the boiler, but paused to let him go first. He rolled the grenade across the deck. With the booms and gunfire roaring outside of the ship, the men had no chance of hearing its approach. Tolemek wiggled a finger and tilted his head toward the door. Kaika slipped outside with him, though she bounced from foot to foot, clearly irritated at the delay.

“I’m planning to blow that room into the skies anyway,” she whispered.

“I know, but I’d prefer to give them a chance to survive.”

“Whoever gave you the name Deathmaker?”

“A pirate.”

“Did he not know about your soft, squishy side?”

“Soft and squishy? Are you talking about my ass again?” It was perhaps not the best time to trade quips, but they had to wait for the knockout gas to work—and he had to keep Kaika from charging in prematurely.

“
That
, I trust, is firm. Surely even Ahn has standards.” Kaika twitched her chin toward the door. “Will they be out yet?”

Tolemek counted a few more seconds in his head, then nodded. “They should be now. The gas will be lingering. Hold your breath, if you can.”

He led the way in. The firemen were indeed lying on the floor, one by the furnace and the other halfway to the door. Kaika jumped over that one, running straight for the boiler. Tolemek grabbed the closest man and dragged him into the passageway. He didn’t so much as moan. Tolemek had no idea if leaving the man out here instead of in the boiler room would save his life, but it made him feel better to try. He took a breath before heading back in to grab the other one.

Kaika ran past him, her explosive already set. She was so single-minded and determined that he thought she might leave him, sprinting straight for the emperor’s quarters, but she waited, holding the door while he dragged the second man out.

“Boiler room,” the voice on the horn spoke, “are you ready for departure? Engines engaging in fifteen seconds.”

“Something will be engaging,” Kaika said with a snort. “Hurry. That’s going to make a mess when it blows.”

She raced down the passageway. Tolemek left the firemen behind and sprinted after her.

“How long do we have?”

Before she could answer, something crashed into the side of the ship. Tolemek was hurled into the bulkhead, his boots slipping out from under him as wood splintered and cracked. Kaika’s explosive? No, that had been something from outside. Realizing he still had to worry about the bomb, he scrambled to his feet. Another crash threatened to send him down again. A beam snapped in the passageway ahead, one end falling to the deck.

Phelistoth is helping
, Tylie spoke brightly into his mind.

Some help. That was Tolemek’s last thought before Kaika’s bomb exploded behind them. Something slammed into the back of his head, and he pitched to the ground again, the world going black.

Chapter 14

E
arly morning light slanted in through the open barn doors when Ridge woke up. Scratchy hay poked him in his legs and back—his
naked
legs and back. His head throbbed, and something on the back of his neck itched. He lay on the ground, a woman’s limbs wrapped around him, a canvas tarp draped over them. He blinked in confusion, trying to remember how he’d gotten here—and how he’d thought a barn floor was a good place for a union with a woman. His first thought was that he had unwisely inveigled Mayford’s granddaughter into joining him, but then he recognized the blonde hair draped across his chest, the smug smile on the woman’s face, the possessive way her fingers curled around his shoulder. Mara.

Memories of the previous night slammed into him like a tidal wave, leaving his heart and his mind racing. He couldn’t remember all of the details of his actual union with her, but the moments before it had started were vivid. She was a witch. And she’d had a conversation in his head, one he apparently wasn’t supposed to remember but did. A conversation with... what? What was the voice that he’d been hearing for days? Not his subconscious. A familiar? Wasn’t that what witches had?

A sigh sounded in his mind.
I’m a soulblade, a former sorcerer in my own right, though long dead now.
An image flashed into his mind, Mara’s knife as it truly was, an intricately wrought sword she wore at her hip, one that had magical powers independent of hers.
My name is Wreltad.

Ridge remained utterly still, trying to process the information and also scared of what would happen if he stirred and woke Mara. Tarshalyn. Whoever she was.

I regret that I was not able to intervene last night
, the voice continued.
She is more powerful than I am, and my mind manipulation techniques do not work on her. I thought to clear the drug from your bloodstream, but considered that your experience might be less... unpleasant with it there.
Uncertainty mingled with the words, as if the voice—the
sorcerer?
—wasn’t sure he had made the right choice.

What did Wreltad care about right choices when it came to Iskandians? Did it matter if it—
he
—was Mara’s ally?

You’re Cofah
, Ridge thought, having had that suspicion about her all along.

Yes. You and I are enemies.

Why did she—no, it was you, wasn’t it?—save me?
Ridge’s mind, which was much clearer this morning, answered the question on its own. Because they wanted to use him to get to the king.

That was what I told her to justify it. In truth, I simply saw the opportunity to keep you from dying and acted upon it. We saw most of the fight. It was a noble battle, with the dragon defeated in the end. There was no need for you to die for defending humanity against a dragon.

If you’re Cofah, what do you care about the humanity in Iskandia? Or me?

We are here because there’s an opportunity to add this land to the empire, but that doesn’t mean we must be monsters. There is no reason to be inhumane or to act without honor.
The voice sighed again.
At least,
I
do not feel there is.

If there was some disagreement or schism between his two enemies—Mara and this sentient sword—then it seemed Ridge might exploit it somehow, but he had no idea how to do that right now. He didn’t even understand fully what he was dealing with. Before this, he’d barely believed that magic existed. He had no knowledge of dealing with witches. Or soulblades—whatever they were.

Not true,
the voice said.
You just don’t remember it.

How helpful.

Can you give me my memories back?
Ridge’s brain locked on two of the words the sword had used earlier: mind manipulation.
Are you the one who took them in the first place?

I... cannot return them, not now. That would not serve us. I swore to work with Tarshalyn three thousand years before you were born. I can argue for your life, but I cannot betray her. We are—she is all that I have left of my time, of my world.

Ridge would have felt frustrated or exasperated, but he was too confused. Thousands of years? What was it talking about?

What he
did
realize, confusion notwithstanding, was that he wasn’t going to get help. He needed to figure his own way out of this situation. Maybe he could knock Mara out somehow and escape without her, though the thought of leaving an angry witch in a village full of innocent people chilled his heart. It might be better to take her with him and try to figure out something to do between here and the capital.

I suggest you simply take her where she wants to go and then leave. If you stay out of her way, I believe she will let you live.

Ridge closed his eyes.
Staying out of the way isn’t an option for a soldier. Will you tell me why she wants to see Angulus?

I cannot.

To blackmail him? To kill him?

Wreltad did not answer.

That in itself was telling. If her intentions had been innocuous, Wreltad probably would have explained that. Ridge had to assume that Mara meant to kill Angulus. If she wanted Iskandia for the empire, getting rid of the regime currently in power would be a logical starting point.

Ridge turned his head, searching for ideas while being careful not to wake up Mara. The colonel’s old flier stood in full view, its bronze rivets gleaming in the pinkish morning light, the machine guns just visible. He wondered if the colonel had loaded the ammunition he had offered. Not that it would be much good unless he was in the air and could maneuver the flier around to aim them.

Would a bullet even kill a witch? How did one go about doing that? Or at least disabling her? He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to kill someone who had been helping him, even if she had been doing it as part of some scheme against his country. Besides, as far as he knew, the worst crime she had committed so far was drugging him and taking him to bed. He might be personally affronted by that, but he couldn’t kill her over it. Assassinating Angulus would be a far greater crime, but he didn’t have any true proof that she meant to do that or that she had the ability to go through with it. Could one punish someone for a crime before it had been committed? Not righteously so, surely, but if she succeeded in committing it, later he would have to live with the guilt of knowing he hadn’t tried to stop her when he could have.

Ridge was tempted to ask Wreltad if Mara had done anything criminal since arriving in Iskandia, but he doubted he would get an honest answer. He was her ally; he’d said it plainly enough. And he was remaining silent while Ridge wrestled with this.

He spotted Mara’s clothes in a heap in the hay next to his and wondered if she had any more of whatever drug she had used on him. Might it dull a witch’s powers? He had certainly been a mindless idiot under the influence of it. And it had lasted hours, having worn off some time while he slept. Could he give her enough to get her back to the capital and then hand her over to the king? Or maybe General Ort? Ridge didn’t know if either of them would have a clue about how to restrain a witch, but they had to know more than he did on the matter.

Ridge eased to the side, trying to escape her embrace without waking her.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder. He froze.

Mara lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest. Her eyes weren’t exactly adoring. Triumphant was the word that came to mind.

“It’s light,” Ridge said, pretending he hadn’t just been contemplating drugging her, “my head only throbs moderately, and if I knew where my clothes were, we could leave for the capital. I suppose clothes technically aren’t required, but the harness pinches if you’re in the cockpit nude. Long story as to why I know that.” He was babbling nervously, but he couldn’t stop. Wreltad had proven that he could read his mind. Might she have that ability too?

She patted his cheek. “You’re fun. I’m glad I let you live.”

“Glad I didn’t disappoint,” he murmured.

Her eyelids drooped, and she rubbed the inside of her thigh against him while regarding him with an inviting smile. It crossed his mind that he might be able to reach her clothes and search the pockets while distracting her with sex, but knowing what he knew now, he doubted his performance would be very convincing.

Instead, he shifted her to the side and rolled away. “We don’t want to delay, do we? You were eager to see the capital. It looks like it’s going to be a sunny day. That’s not that common along the shore, so we had better take advantage of it.”

As he spoke, he casually went to his clothing. He reached for his shirt, eyeing her garments while he did so. She studied him like a hawk watching a titmouse, but with rather more sexual interest. It made him especially aware of and uncomfortable in his nakedness, but he supposed it was better to have her thinking about that than noticing the way he bumped her garments, trying to knock things out of the pockets while he donned his own clothing.

“I only made one dose, hero,” Mara said, “but I am flattered that you would rather drug me than kill me.”

Ridge focused on buttoning his uniform jacket and keeping the panic off his face. “Are we done with pretenses now?” he asked, trying to sound casual. Hawks probably went for the most worried titmice first.

“Since my sword has taken to sharing confidences with you, I believe so.” She stretched languidly, then rolled to her feet. She sashayed over to him, patted his ass, and grabbed her shirt.

He didn’t give in to irritation that often, especially when dealing with women, but he considered knocking her away. He had a half a foot and a lot of muscle on her; he ought to be able to keep her from manhandling him.

Don’t try
, Wreltad said.
Trust me.

Her slitted eyes seemed to hold a challenge in them, as if she
wanted
him to try something. She might enjoy flattening him to the ground with some magical power.

As she was aware of his every thought, she smirked. With her shirt hanging open, she reached up toward him. He started to step back, but some force held him in place. As surely as if he were drugged again, he couldn’t move away from her, nor could he lift a hand to block her when she gripped him by the back of the neck and pulled him down for a kiss. At least he could keep from responding this time.