6.0 - Raptor (19 page)

He rubbed his face, feeling the weight of expectations settling on his shoulders. This was almost worse than gunfire.

That will teach you for being a liberal overseer
, Jaxi said.
Having Therrik show up to take your place probably made them cranky.

“Of that I have no doubt,” Ridge muttered. Therrik was stalking in his direction now.

Ridge made a cutting motion to Sardelle, telling her to turn off the flames. Even if these people saw him as some kind of benevolent commander who might improve things, they were bound to remember they were afraid of magic eventually. He kept his rifle in hand as he headed for the steps.

Do you want me to stay close to you?
Sardelle had climbed down from the flier and had her palm on Jaxi’s pommel.
Or would it be better if I remained out of sight?
She glanced at Tylie.
Both of us.

I’d love you close to me, but you’re probably right about staying out of sight, at least until we get the miners settled down. They might remember you.

Less fondly than they remember you, yes.

Her tone was wry and without malice, but Ridge winced, anyway. These people’s rejection had to hurt, especially when she had saved them all from that shaman and the Cofah soldiers. What had he done? He’d gotten in an air skirmish with the shaman’s pet owl. Gee.

Don’t stay too far out of sight, please. There are probably injured people.
Ridge knew she would want to heal them, even if they were stoats’ teats to her. He doubted he would have that kind of generosity if he had her power.

You’re right
, she thought after a moment.
There are.

I’ll check on it, get things organized.
That was the last thought Ridge had time for. He had reached the bottom of the stairs.

A few soldiers pushed their way to the front and tried vainly to hold back the miners. Ridge’s instincts were to respond similarly, but he wanted to appear confident. He waved the soldiers aside, giving them pats on the back, then clasped some of the grasping hands of the miners, ignoring how grubby and dirt-smeared they were. After squabbling with a dragon, he was probably grubby too.

“You came back, Colonel,” another said. “They told me I couldn’t have my days off. But I read those books!”

“We heard about the fortress,” someone blurted. “That’s cracking. Death to the Cofah!”

“Death to the Cofah! Death to the Cofah!” At least fifty voices took up the cry, with more men streaming out of the mines and the burning buildings to join the crowd.

Therrik had reached the back of the massive gathering and started pushing his way through, nearly flattening men in his way.

“We’ll get it all straightened out,” Ridge said, hoping to placate everyone before Therrik riled them up again. “But first, I need to know everything about the dragon, what happened, and where the injured people are. If you’ll just—”

He hadn’t been inviting the entire crowd to tell him—he’d been hoping to let them know he needed to talk to Therrik—but they all started speaking with great enthusiasm.

“Wait, wait, please,” he called, patting the air with his hands.

“All of you idiots, shut your holes,” Therrik roared, his belligerent voice cutting over the clamor.

I can’t imagine why they’re revolting
, Ridge thought.

I’m not sure if King Angulus thought this through,
Sardelle responded.
This might have been a bigger punishment for the miners and soldiers than for Therrik.

I’m not arguing.

“Go back to your posts,” Therrik continued. “Sergeants Mandor, Fixston. Take their tools. Get everybody on fire suppression duty. Nobody’s going to eat if we don’t get the fires in those warehouses out. Now!”

The miners shrank within themselves at his tirade, and the soldiers did too. They all looked to Ridge before acting. Even though he outranked Therrik now, he didn’t want to stir the pot too much. He was just passing through, after all.

“I know I’d like some griddle cakes and bacon in the morning,” Ridge said, waving at the two sergeants Therrik had singled out. “If those fires all get put out in the next hour, we’ll all have an extra big breakfast.”

The cheers erupted again, and men ran across the courtyard toward piles of snow that had already been brought in, most likely for that purpose. Ridge didn’t know how efficient the miners would be at firefighting, but as long as they weren’t trying to kill the soldiers, that was a good thing.

“You bring extra rations with you in those two fliers, Zirkander?” Therrik growled. “Because the fixings for bacon and griddle cakes don’t come in that often.”

Ridge thought about reminding the grumpy colonel that it was
General
Zirkander now, and he expected to be sirred, but Therrik was probably irked enough from having Ridge end the rebel takeover simply by showing up.

“If we succeed in killing the dragon, we can roast it on a spit,” Ridge said.

“Killing it? Our cannonballs bounced
off
it. It’s not coming back, is it?” Therrik stared at the sky in alarm.

It was the first time Ridge could remember seeing him daunted. He didn’t enjoy the expression nearly as much as he would have expected.

“I’m not sure. We don’t know what he wants.” If Morishtomaric wanted Tylie, and he had believed that Tylie was dead, why would he have come to attack the fort? Had he been in the mood to wreak havoc and it had been the closest spot?

Therrik’s gaze shifted past his shoulder and up the stairs. Ridge tensed, worried that Sardelle had come down, which might spur Therrik to greater irritation.

Sorry, no. She slipped away when I was trying to gauge how many wounded there were. Be right there.

Tylie was padding down the stone steps in her grass sandals. Ridge grimaced. He specifically remembered handing her boots and a parka before they left. She was wearing the fur-trimmed garment, but her toes had to be freezing on the cold stairs. Even if it wasn’t as cold here as it had been in the winter, it still wasn’t warm.

“Did you lose something, Zirkander?” Therrik asked.

Sardelle hustled down, catching Tylie before she could descend all the way.

“We’re going to help,” Tylie announced brightly.

Does that cheerfulness mean Phelistoth is better?
Ridge wondered.

I think it might. I can’t sense either dragon at the moment.

Good. The outpost has had enough winged company today.

Will he let us pass?
Sardelle glanced at Therrik.
There are a lot of people who were burned and hurt in the fighting. Tylie is going to help me with them. I’ve taught her a few things, and I believe she can be useful.

After giving Sardelle a frosty stare, Therrik jerked a thumb toward Tylie. “What is this?”

“Those are females, Therrik,” Ridge said. “I didn’t think you’d been out here long enough to forget what one was.” Technically, the outpost housed a small contingent of female criminals, but they were as tough and grubby as the men, and didn’t tend to stir the male imagination.

Therrik’s frosty glare turned toward Ridge. He smiled affably and clapped the colonel on the shoulder—a move he wouldn’t have tried when they had been the same rank. “Tell me what’s been going on, and I’ll tell you why I’m here. If you’re curious.”

“Not really.”

“Good. Then it’ll be a brief meeting. We have a lot to get done. Also, Sardelle and her new apprentice would like to be shown to your injured people to help with healing.” Ridge looked up the stairs to see if Duck had followed them down. He wanted someone he trusted watching over Sardelle and Tylie while they worked. He well remembered how the locals felt about magic.

“Healing.” Therrik clenched his teeth, the tendons in his throat springing out. He looked even leaner and more muscular than the last time they had met. He had probably been throwing weights—and soldiers—around instead of drinking.

“Yes, healing,” Ridge said. “They’re going to wriggle their fingers and wave powerful magics all over your injured people.”

Should you be antagonizing him?
Sardelle rested a protective hand on Tylie’s shoulder, her gaze on Therrik.

Being a general wouldn’t be much fun if I
didn’t
get to antagonize lower-ranking officers. Besides, you said I didn’t have to be a good role model until after we have children.

I’m not sure those were my
precise
words.

Therrik kept grinding his teeth and glowering. Sardelle was waiting on the steps, but she couldn’t get by unless Therrik moved. Or unless she magicked up a powerful gust of wind to hurl him across the courtyard and onto his ass. Ridge wouldn’t mind seeing that, but it shouldn’t be necessary.

“You’ve got injured people, Colonel,” he said, dropping the sarcasm from his tone. “Let her do something about them.”

“We have a medic.”

“You have one beleaguered man, who’s recruited three soldiers who barely know what they’re doing,” Sardelle said. “Let me help.”

Therrik’s dark eyes grew a touch wild at this proof that she knew more than she could by mundane means.

“Come on, Therrik.” This time, when Ridge reached for Therrik’s shoulder, he kept his hand there. “We need to talk.” He jerked his chin to the entrance of the headquarters building. He was well aware of the way Therrik tensed, as if to repel an attack, but Ridge trusted—hopefully not naively—that the man wouldn’t strike a superior officer. His indoctrination to the military should supersede his hatred—his
fear
—of all things magical.

Therrik growled and stalked off the stairs, jerking his shoulder from Ridge’s grip. So long as he let Sardelle and Tylie pass.

“Duck?” Ridge called up before following Therrik into the building. Duck had trotted down the stairs and stopped behind Sardelle. He was looking around the outpost with curiosity. “Watch them while I’m getting my report and telling him what we want.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And be especially careful of the miners. They’re all criminals who chose this over an executioner’s axe.”

Duck’s eyes widened, but then he nodded, glancing around the courtyard again. Numerous unconscious and dead men lay in the mud, people who had been taken down in the uprising before Ridge arrived. “I get it now, sir.”

“We’ll be fine.” Sardelle touched Ridge’s arm as she and Tylie passed, heading straight toward the machine shop. As one of the few stone buildings that hadn’t been damaged by the fire, it must have been turned into an infirmary. There was a real infirmary inside of headquarters, but it was a small room with a single bed. Even without Sardelle’s senses, Ridge was sure there were a lot more injured than such a space would accommodate.

“Is there anything you want me to ask specifically about?” Ridge called after her.
Aside from asking about soulblades
? he added silently, not wanting to yell that across the courtyard.

To anyone watching, all she did was shake her head and wave. Mentally, she said,
Do ask if any swords have been recovered, please. Jaxi will start the research while I’m healing people. She can peruse the books here without being in close proximity to them.

Yes, I recall how she helped you win days off from me.
He smirked after her as she opened the door to the machine shop.

The look she sent back across the courtyard was a touch embarrassed. He gave her a lazy two-fingered salute, made sure Duck was staying close to her and Tylie, then pushed open the door to the headquarters building. Not surprisingly, Therrik wasn’t standing there waiting for him with a cup of coffee. He must have already stomped up to his office.

Despite his earlier antagonizing, Ridge decided he should be professional, not sarcastic, and certainly not smugly superior. If Morishtomaric came back, Ridge and Therrik would have to defend the outpost together. They didn’t need internal hostilities when they already had a dragon that wanted to kill them and hundreds of criminals who would gladly help with that. Besides, Therrik had been the one who had broken him out of jail so that he could find King Angulus. As much as Ridge wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, he owed the man something. If not a favor, then perhaps a bit of civility.

Aw, you
are
practicing to be a role model. That’s sweet.

Aren’t you supposed to be researching something, Jaxi?

I’m looking for those books that were dug out the last time we were here. I thought they might be in that building. I’m hoping they’re not in one of the smoldering ones.

Try the library over your head.

That implies a degree of organization I wasn’t expecting from this place. Also, an openness to let anyone on the compound access books written by witches, as you people call us.

You people?
Ridge made it to the second floor and the office that had once been his without encountering Therrik.

Not
you
specifically. Sardelle has trained you well.

You’re the one who’s more likely to incinerate one of my favorite body parts if I don’t address you properly.

That’s possibly true. Sardelle is a tolerant soul.

Ridge found Therrik inside, standing behind the desk in a rigid parade rest, with two logbooks open. He stared past Ridge’s shoulder toward an uninteresting spot on the doorframe without blinking very often. His jaw was still clenched. A hard man to be civil with and an even harder one to want to do favors for.

“Relax,” Ridge said, though he doubted Therrik knew how. “I’m just here to look for a sword and do some research on the way to hunt down that dragon.”

Therrik’s gaze flicked toward him. “You should have brought the dragon-slaying sword.”

“Lieutenant—Ms. Ahn has it.” Something Ridge wasn’t excited about—he still couldn’t believe she had volunteered to wield it again. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was hoping she would get herself killed doing this. That thought made him want to cry inside. Maybe on the outside too. He hated the idea of losing another of his people to a mistake. That dragon shouldn’t even exist. It wouldn’t be roaming Iskandia now if humans hadn’t set it free.