6.0 - Raptor (33 page)

Shall I tell him you object?
Jaxi asked.
Tolemek and Cas are up there now, too, and I gather everyone’s concerned about the idea of Cas wielding that sword when you and Tylie are in the same part of the world.

Sardelle rubbed her eyes and realized they were damp. It wasn’t fair to blame Ridge for thinking of explosives, especially if he was trying to protect her, but she also didn’t think Kasandral would bat an eye at her or Tylie if a dragon was nearby.

Possibly not, but if you’re closer than the dragon, it might not matter. Kasandral isn’t that bright.

We need to find those command words.

Getting out of here should be the first priority. And taking a nap.

For you or for me?
Sardelle
was
tired, with a throbbing headache pulsing behind her eyes.

I don’t need naps.

Must be nice.

Maybe if we get out of here, you can nap with Ridge. He’s tired and cranky too.

I’m not cranky.

If you say so. In the meantime, we might want to hurry Phelistoth along. The sooner we get out of these tunnels, the sooner we can help with plans to defeat Morishtomaric.

Weariness wasn’t the only emotion making Sardelle cranky. A sense of bleakness smothered her, both because her people’s past might soon be forever out of her reach and because she was skeptical whether that plan could work. Phelistoth seemed to read their thoughts easily enough. Wouldn’t Morishtomaric do the same?

• • • • •

A muffled boom came up from the tram shaft, along with a flash of white and the smell of burning sulfur. A few rocks flew out of the opening, the double doors laid back against the earth, but the explosion had taken place more than ten levels below. Most of the damage would be down there.

Cas was watching from across the courtyard, her back to the stone headquarters building. There was nothing she could do to help. If the dragon returned, she would have a duty to do, but for now, she could only watch as Captain Kaika directed the team planting the explosives.

General Zirkander seemed to be in a similar position. He stood behind Kaika, alternating between observing the progress and scanning the sky. Thick clouds had gathered up there, rushing twilight in early and threatening rain. Fortunately, no dragons were darkening the sky, not at the moment. Colonel Therrik would probably be the first one to see one if it did show up. He was stalking the ramparts, alternating between barking orders at soldiers working on repairs and grabbing tools to help. Cas hadn’t seen Tolemek for the last hour. He had grabbed his bag, said something about making an acid delivery mechanism, and disappeared into the machine shop. Cas wished there was a way she could help someone. She had little experience in building things, or in blowing them up.

Besides, Tolemek had not asked for help. He hadn’t said much since that morning, and she worried she had hurt him with her reaction to being touched. That frustrated her beyond words. They had just been getting closer again, and against her own wishes, she had pushed him away.

Zirkander finished a conversation with Kaika and headed toward the headquarters building. His expression had been bleak since Cas had landed, with none of his usual humor in his eyes. Understandable, with Sardelle trapped down there. She’d also heard that a number of miners and soldiers were believed dead.

He was heading for the doorway, but he paused when he saw her. His gaze flicked to the wall next to her, where Kasandral’s box leaned. Cas hated toting it around, but it was too valuable to leave in the flier, especially since seven-eighths of the population of this outpost were criminals.

Zirkander met her eyes, and unexpected guilt stung her as her nightmare returned to her thoughts. He hadn’t been in it, but Sardelle was another matter. An urge to apologize to him came over her, for killing his love in her dream. It was silly, but a part of her was terrified that her dream would turn out to be a prophecy.

“You doing all right, Ahn?” Zirkander asked.

“Yes, sir.” She tried to wipe her emotions from her face. She wasn’t going to talk to her commanding officer about dreams. Besides, she didn’t want to worry him further when he already had so many problems.

“How’s your buddy?” Zirkander nodded toward the box.

Buddy. Right. “Fine, sir.”

“Fine? I heard you fought some Cofah, threw the sword out of your flier, and tried to lose it in a valley.”

“That’s not exactly how it went.” Cas did not mention her fantasy of chucking the blade over the side of the airship to be lost in a forgotten canyon.

“Well, if it gets to be too much, Therrik has expressed an interest in wielding it against the dragon.”

Cas looked toward the outpost walls. Not five minutes ago, Therrik had been bellowing at a soldier, telling him to go down and dig dirt if he couldn’t hammer a nail without bending it. Cas shuddered as she imagined him taking the blade. He would enjoy wielding it far too much.

“I can handle it, sir.”

“Good. I don’t want to take him up in my flier again. He gets airsick. Who’s ever heard of a mighty swordsman who gets airsick?”

Cas remembered thoughts she’d had, that the sword might make her kill Zirkander if she flew with him, and another wave of distress washed over her. The thought didn’t make any sense, because so far, Kasandral had only shown interest in killing those possessing dragon blood, but she couldn’t keep the emotion from welling up inside of her.

“Sir,” she said, not even sure why she said it, but her voice cracked, betraying her emotions.

Zirkander frowned and walked over. He leaned against the wall beside her, his shoulder to hers. Technically, it was her shoulder to his arm, since he had a foot on her, but she barely noticed. She was busy struggling to get ahold of herself. She was an officer, not some weepy-eyed girl in a play at Saggaki’s Theater on Vail Street.

“Tell me,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, sir. I’m just worried. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you come over.”

“You didn’t
make
me, Cas,” he said dryly. “Look, these legs work entirely independently of your wishes.”

She might have kept her mouth shut and shook away the notion that she needed to tell him anything, but she made the mistake of looking up and meeting his eyes. Once again, she experienced that fear that her dream would become a reality, that she would take from him the woman he loved. All of the guilt she still felt over Apex filled her at the thought of hurting him. She loved Tolemek, as a woman loved a man, but she loved Zirkander, too, as a mentor and a friend. Even if lieutenants weren’t supposed to be friends with generals, she considered him one.

“I dreamed I killed Sardelle,” she whispered, the confession tumbling out before she could stop it. “That the sword tricked me, made me think it was the enemy sorceress, but it was Sardelle. I know it’s just a dream, and it’s stupid to worry about a dream, but with Kasandral, it’s more than that. I already tried to kill her once. I—” Her voice broke, her throat too tight to get more words through it. She turned away from Zirkander, looking toward the courtyard but not seeing it. Not seeing anything.

He nudged her with his elbow. “She’s under about fifty million tons of rock right now. You’ll have a tough time fulfilling that dream.”

His tone was light, as it so often was. She knew that didn’t mean he didn’t worry, and she wished she hadn’t confessed. Now, he would have more reason to worry, about her and the sword. What if he thought she wasn’t capable of wielding it—or couldn’t be
trusted
to wield it—so he gave it to Therrik? She should have been horrified by that thought, but a secret relief came with it instead. If Therrik had it, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of this.

Her relief was short-lived. If Therrik had it, she would have to worry about
him
killing Sardelle. There would be nothing to hold him back. He would be gleeful for the excuse to attack her, and she doubted he would feel any remorse at all for taking Zirkander’s love from him. The bastard might even appreciate getting the chance to hurt him.

“Tolemek said he’s working on a dragon-slaying weapon,” Zirkander said. “Maybe you won’t have to take the sword out of its box again.”

Cas nodded. “I know he is, and yes, I’m very much hoping that is the case.” She used her thoughts of Therrik as a way to steel herself, to remind herself that she
had
to do this. And Zirkander was right. At the moment, Sardelle was inaccessible. Cas was worrying about nothing. The dragon would be here tomorrow, and one way or another, she would be able to put the sword away at the end of the day. “If Tolemek doesn’t come up with something in time, are you still going to fly with me, sir? To take me up to fight the dragon?”

“Of course I am. Who else would you want to go up with? Pimples? Duck?”

“No, sir. And definitely not General Ort. He wouldn’t let me climb up on the wings so I could reach anything with the sword. That’s why I had to throw it.”

“He wouldn’t let you trot back and forth on the wings? Not even if you tied a rope to your ankle?”

“We didn’t have a rope.”

“Well, that was shortsighted. I’ll make sure we have one.”

“Yes, sir. Good.”

Zirkander pointed toward the door. “I’m going to make coffee for Kaika. You want one? I hear you all have been keeping odd hours up on that airship.”

Cas snorted. Zirkander didn’t look like
he
had slept in a while, either. “Are generals supposed to make coffee for captains and ex-lieutenants?”

“Absolutely not, but Therrik is keeping all of the privates busy fixing things. It’s terribly inconvenient. Being a general is not quite the reward you’d think. Never let your bosses promote you too far.” His expression grew a touch wistful, but he waved in dismissal and started for the door.

“No chance of that,” Cas muttered.

She hadn’t meant the words for him, but he turned around again. “No? I thought you might come back after this. After being up there in the sky again. Wearing the uniform again. No chance of that?”

“I hadn’t thought about it yet, sir.” She had only donned the uniform because it had made sense, and she was only here because the king had asked her to that meeting. Still, she had to admit that even with worry knotting her gut all the time, she had enjoyed being in the air again, and she’d even liked joking with Pimples, especially after he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to try to kiss her again. It had made her miss Solk, Blazer, Beeline, and the others even more, and want to be a part of the squadron again. “But even if I came back, the odds of me getting promoted, after everything that’s happened, have to be close to nil.” She smiled, not wanting him to think she was bitter, or even that she had been thinking about promotions. Hells, just a few days ago, she had been trying to start a new career with her father.

“Hah. You’re not under the delusion that promotions are merit based, are you?” His mouth twisted into an expression that she couldn’t quite read. Wryness? Bitterness? Anguish?

“I… yes. I mean, you’ve deserved yours, sir. Nobody can doubt that.”

Zirkander returned to her side, this time crouching in the dirt, his back to the wall. He waved for her to squat down beside him. “I was just talking about some of this with Sardelle. Look, the army promotes people based on its needs, not yours. I’ve seen plenty of people passed over for promotions who deserved them, because there wasn’t a slot open for a captain or a major in their unit, and I’ve seen others… well, let’s just say that I’ve failed upward at least three times.” There was that twist to his mouth again, something too dark to be considered wry. “Of course, opportunities for promotion come up a lot in our line of work. No need to explain why. If you come back—” he raised his eyebrows expectantly, “—you’ll get yours when you’ve got a couple more years under your belt. And you’ll deserve it too. Marksmanship aside, you’re steady and calm up there, and the others respect you. You’ll get awards too. More of them. Invitations to the castle for celebratory dinners.” He gave her an arch look, one that was probably meant to remind her that she had failed to show up for the
last
celebratory dinner invitation to the castle. As if she could have gone, could have accepted some medal, after she had killed Apex.

She shook her head. “That’s not—Sir, Apex is… That was unforgivable.”

“You’d be amazed at how much can be forgiven if you’re indispensable to your unit.” He looked straight into her eyes. “You might even get awards and promotions you feel you don’t deserve.”

Her breath caught. He knew. He knew how she felt, that she didn’t deserve accolades or sympathy, and that getting all that was far worse than if people would just condemn her, the way they did Tolemek. That would have made sense. Seeing him blamed for something he hadn’t truly done, while she
wasn’t
blamed for something she
had
done… It was devastating. She hadn’t thought anyone else understood, but Zirkander did.

“What do you do when that happens, sir? When you’re wrongfully praised? Or wrongfully
unaccused
?” She looked away from him, toward the ground between her boots. “How do you live with yourself?”

“You just go on, try to become the person they think you are.”

Just go on? She’d been doing that but felt so hollow inside, so empty. How could she have a future when she had denied it of someone else, of someone who hadn’t been an enemy trying to invade her homeland, but who had been a friend?

“Seems like there should be more of a punishment,” Cas said.

“Coming back to work and being with your colleagues isn’t punishment enough?” He smiled, but his eyes were serious.

That
would
be a punishment, in a manner of speaking, dealing with the condolences, the hugs. She’d been hiding from that, not wanting to see those she had betrayed.

“If you want another punishment, there’s nothing like the weight of obligation,” Zirkander said. “As I’ve been told, in one general’s lecture or another, if you’re fortunate enough to have been born with a gift, you owe it to the world to use it in such a way that it benefits the greater good.”