6.0 - Raptor (32 page)

He’s not scaled now,
Jaxi pointed out.

I don’t want to risk turning him into an enemy.

Even if he’s going to kill a bunch of humans?

Sardelle grimaced.
Let’s wait to worry about that until later—maybe we can figure out a way to keep the miners out of our path. Or maybe we can ask Tylie to convince Phelistoth to let them live.
Sardelle looked at Tylie. She appeared very young, her face smeared with dirt and streaked with tears, as she tagged along, a couple of steps behind Phelistoth. Sardelle hadn’t noticed her crying. She must have been doing so quietly. Because she was afraid? Or tired? Or knew something Sardelle didn’t know?
She has a gentle soul,
she added to Jaxi.
She won’t want people killed.

If she’s being threatened, she may not be able to convince Phelistoth otherwise. He’s been quite protective of her.

I know.
Sardelle waved for the soldiers to take a couple of steps forward, as she pushed the barrier farther up the passage.
What’s Ridge doing? Is he all right?
Sardelle longed to change topics and also to let him know they were safe. Sort of. She kept trying to push through the blazing energy that radiated from Phelistoth’s aura to reach the surface and find him, but she hadn’t managed yet.

Making deals with dragons.

What?

I’m not sure on the details yet. Right now, they’re working to clear the tram shaft. If Phelistoth can get us close, maybe we can get out of here.

“This is the main tunnel, isn’t it?” Sergeant Jenneth asked, staring at the smooth waves of newly hardened rock that had replaced the chiseled boulders from before.

“Yes,” Sardelle said.

“We left Chance and Moz back here. Is there any way to tell if they made it out?”

“They didn’t,” Tylie whispered. She dragged her sleeve across her eyes. “None of them did.”

Sergeant Jenneth’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

The private eyed her and circled his heart with two fingers, the traditional gesture for warding off magic.

“What about up above? In the fort? Is the general and everyone up there all right?” Jenneth asked.

“For now,” Sardelle said.

“The outpost wasn’t affected by our problem,” Tylie said, “but the other dragon is up there. He was the one causing those other quakes. He’s stopped attacking now. Phel isn’t sure why.”

Deals with dragons
, Jaxi said again.

“Phel?” Jenneth asked, though he was looking at the back of Phelistoth’s silver-haired human head, so he must have guessed who they were talking about.

Care to elaborate, Jaxi?

Tylie nodded to Jenneth and touched Phelistoth’s back.

The sergeant’s gaze lowered to his butt, as if he was imagining the dragon tail sticking out from that backside. He joined his comrade in making gestures to ward off evil magic.

I’m talking to Ridge now
, Jaxi said.
If you’re done eyeing Phelistoth’s butt, I can share the details.

I wasn’t the one eyeing anything.

Too late. I’ve already informed Ridge that you were considering another man’s anatomy.

Because you know he must be worried up there and you’re attempting to alleviate his anxiety by joking with him, right?

Actually, I was trying to distract you from
your
anxiety. He needs to know… Huh.

Sardelle squeezed Jaxi’s pommel.
Yes?

Instead of speaking, Jaxi shared a series of images, images from Ridge’s thoughts. Sardelle had touched Ridge’s mind before and shared experiences with him, but she had never done it with Jaxi as the intermediary. She longed to be more direct with him, but she accepted what was offered, the memory of him taking off and flying up to confront Morishtomaric. She smiled as his humor and a few of his thoughts came through the link, specifically his distress at having Therrik riding along and being sick in his back seat. But the humor faded as he communicated with the dragon.

A purple crystal?
Sardelle wondered.
Is that one of the artifacts locked in the vault?

You’ll have to ask Phelistoth about that. For all Ridge knows, it might be a glowing paperweight.

It’s nothing you’re familiar with?

No
. Jaxi paused.
I’m fairly certain it’s not a paperweight.

That’s helpful.

I thought so.

Phelistoth lowered his arm, his head drooping. The light from the melting rocks faded, though the sides of the tunnel ahead continued to glow orange.

“I must rest for a moment,” he announced.

He usually spoke in their minds instead of aloud. Sardelle wondered how much he was taxing himself, and she thought again of the miners trying to find a way to them.

Perhaps this would be the time to ask him about dragon paperweights
, Jaxi suggested.

Maybe. But what if that crystal is the thing that caught his interest and made him deviate from the soulblade and toward the vault?

Then he should definitely know what it is.

Yes, but would he tell us? What if it’s something that could be a danger to humanity? If the other dragon wants it so badly, and if Phelistoth wants it…

Then it would be even
better
to know what it is,
Jaxi said dryly.
Besides, do you think it would be possible to keep your knowledge from Phelistoth? He seems to surf around in people’s thoughts without worrying about Referatu privacy rules.

Imagine that.
Sardelle decided not to point out that Jaxi had been freely poking into people’s minds since they had woken in this time period and the threat of being punished had disappeared.

I only poke to help you. And only in surface thoughts. Don’t you want to know when strange, grubby miners want you dead?

Not necessarily. I concede your point about Phelistoth though.

“Are you all right?” Tylie rested her hand on Phelistoth’s arm. He was as dust-coated as the rest of them, weariness slumping his shoulders. He appeared more human than he ever had, with all of the frailties and failings that being human entailed.

An illusion, Sardelle told herself.

Phelistoth stood straight, drawing his shoulders back. “Perfectly fine,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at the two soldiers. They did not appear belligerent in any way—unless one counted the frequent hand gestures—but he gave them a baleful glower before looking back to Tylie.

Phelistoth?
Sardelle asked silently. No need to share information about enemy dragons or glowing crystals with the soldiers.
Ridge spoke to Morishtomaric and—

A growl in her mind interrupted her.

I’m not pleased about it, either,
Sardelle said, assuming the growl reflected his feelings toward the other dragon rather than toward her.
But he gained some information. Morishtomaric seeks an ancient artifact, perhaps something stored in the very vault you sought.
She was careful to keep any judgment out of her words.
He’s given us twenty-four hours to find it, or he’ll do his best to collapse the mountain on top of us, not worrying if he kills everyone in the outpost and the mines in the process.

Humans mean nothing to him.

Do they mean anything to you?
Sardelle asked curiously, before she could stop herself. She might not like the answer she received.

Some of them.

Sardelle hoped that included her and Ridge. After all, when Phelistoth had been visiting Tylie, he had been staying in their house. Eating Ridge’s cheese.

Let me try to share an image of the artifact with you
, she continued. Phelistoth hadn’t said anything to suggest he already knew about it. Sardelle did her best to form the crystalline structure in her mind. Since she’d only seen it secondhand—make that third-hand—she couldn’t promise accuracy.

It has seven points, not six,
Jaxi commented.

Would you like to do this?

Yes. I’m a talented artist.

A skill you honed during your three-hundred-year nap?

No, I was too busy pining for company to hone skills during that time. It’s a good thing you finally woke up so I could resume my quest toward self-betterment.

Ha ha. Are you sharing it with him?

Yes. All seven points.

Sardelle looked at Tylie, wondering if she was catching any of the conversation. A slight curve to her lips suggested she might have caught the gist through Phelistoth.

Are you
sure
you want a soulblade?
Sardelle asked her.

Tylie’s smile widened.
I’m used to having another’s thoughts in my head.

Yes, but are they impertinent thoughts?

Sometimes. Dragons have an interesting sense of humor.

Humor?
Sardelle looked at Phelistoth. She couldn’t remember him saying anything that would hint at a sense of humor.
Do you have to be a dragon to understand it?

Probably. He is thinking that he might go out of his way to keep Ridge alive, if it were to ensure that the cheese supply continued.

I see. That’s an example of humor?

He seemed to think I should be tickled.

Sardelle scratched her head. Her relationship with Jaxi was starting to seem blessedly simple.

You’re welcome.

Phelistoth spoke again.
I did grow aware of that artifact, as you call it, when we were digging.

He looked at Tylie. She touched his arm again and nodded.

It is also what I sought,
he admitted.

Do you know what it is?
Sardelle asked.

I would not divert from Tylie’s sword for some mystery bauble.
Phelistoth narrowed his eyes at her.

Tylie’s sword. He was assuming that some ancient soulblade would take her on as a new handler. Maybe he thought he could coerce the soul inside.

Not exactly the most important thing now
, Jaxi pointed out.
Phelistoth, what
is
the artifact?

There are no equivalent human words to name it, but it is a repository of knowledge.

You risked crushing all of us to get your hands on a library?

Phelistoth’s eyes narrowed further. His gaze was still directed at Sardelle, as if
she
was responsible for Jaxi’s impertinence.

There are other artifacts that may be useful to a dragon
, Phelistoth explained,
but the repository is one of many that used to exist in my time. It is a library, yes, but an instructor also. It contains the memories of wise dragons from eras past.

Why do you and Morishtomaric want it?
Jaxi asked.
For instruction? Are you two seeking self-betterment too?

Sardelle cleared her throat.
Jaxi,
w
ould you mind not deliberately goading dragons when you’re attached to my hip?

I do not know what that tyrant seeks
. Phelistoth’s voice had become a dangerous rumble in their heads, a warning for swords—and their handlers.
I only want answers. It is difficult to tell from here, but I believe the repository is only about a thousand years old. It could have information about my kind, what happened and where they went.
The dangerous tone changed, growing more muted. Almost… sad.
I was put into that stasis room long before that. My people were great and many at that time. I do not know… There is much I do not know that I wish to know. I
must
know.

I understand.
And Sardelle did. For the first time, she saw the similarity between herself and Phelistoth. Until Morishtomaric had shown up, he had been the last of his kind in the world. When she had woken up, she had also learned that she was the last of her kind, the last of the Referatu sorcerers. She understood why Phelistoth might want to research his past, especially when he didn’t know what had happened to the rest of the dragons. For good or ill, her people’s fate hadn’t been a mystery.

Maybe that’s why he’s so attached to Tylie,
Jaxi mused.

What do you mean?

He’s lonely. She’s the only friend he had when he came out of that pyramid. Much like Ridge was the only one to be kind to you when you came out of your tomb. You got attached to him rather strongly and quickly, and I don’t think it’s just because he’s pretty.

He prefers to be called ruggedly handsome.

We don’t all get what we prefer. Hm. Speaking of your soul snozzle, he wants to run something by you.

Yes?

Phelistoth shook his arms and lifted a hand again, going back to work on their escape route. Sardelle strengthened the barrier once more.

I told him what the artifact was and that Phelistoth knows roughly where it’s located
, Jaxi said,
but that we’re trying to get out, not trying to get back in, and there’s no way we can do both by the deadline Morishtomaric gave him.

And?

He has a plan.

Should we be concerned?

Probably. He wants to get us out before the time’s up, clear the tunnels, and tell Morishtomaric where he can find the artifact, so he can come down here and get it himself.

While we watch?
Sardelle suspected Ridge had more in mind than that.

While Captain Kaika blows up this mountain for the second time in this epoch.

Ah.
Maybe it was silly, but her soul cringed at the idea of destroying everything all over again. What remained of her people’s culture and the tools—now artifacts—that they had left behind might be lost forever. A feeling of helplessness and frustration came over her. All this to trap a dragon? To hopefully crush it, as the rubble had almost crushed Phelistoth? That dragon should never have been released into this world in the first place. What
was
it with modern Iskandians and their obsession with solving every problem with explosives?