Blood Charged (Dragon Blood, Book 3) (11 page)

He didn’t sound like he was having fun. Good. Ridge had worried the colonel might have delighted in flying; he
hoped
the man had avoided a naval career because he got horribly seasick. And airsick.

“Just getting a feel for the two-seater,” Ridge said in his most professional tone and definitely not his I’m-doing-this-to-annoy-you tone. “They’re not quite as maneuverable as the smaller fliers, and I haven’t flown one for a while.”

Ridge expected a sarcastic response, but Therrik didn’t answer. Silence was akin to agreement, wasn’t it?

Ridge smiled into his scarf, knowing Therrik couldn’t see his face. He touched the crystal. “I thought I saw some smoke. I’m going to swing through Crazy Canyon to make sure there aren’t any ships tucked into the little coves on the river. Maintain course. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Yes, sir,” Apex and Duck said.

Ahn, who was flying off his port wing, looked over at him and made a circle with her thumb and index finger, the approval and all-is-well sign. It was always hard to read people’s faces when they had their goggles on, but Ridge had a feeling she knew what he was doing. They probably all did. Oh, not the part where he hoped to replace Therrik with Sardelle, but the part where he wanted to make the colonel vomit all over himself.

Ridge pulled back on the stick to do a loop, turning himself and his passenger upside down before corkscrewing down to the canyon. He came out of the spin right before the river mouth, then banked hard to the right, taking them in. He weaved in and out, following the rugged walls, rising over trees, and dipping beneath natural arches that stretched from one side to the other over the river. It was darker than pitch, and he could scarcely
see
the river, but he had flown through this canyon so many times, he could have done it blindfolded. It was a popular training run.

“Zirkander.” Therrik sounded sicker than a plague victim.

“Yes?” Ridge asked brightly.

“I’m going to—” Therrik broke off with a gasp and a gurgle that sounded very much like a man trying not to throw up. “I’m going to beat your ass into sawdust when we’re back on the ground.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to the pilot who has your life in his hands.” A cliff rose up out the darkness. Ridge pulled up hard, the wheels practically skimming the rock wall. One of the more impressive arches in the canyon loomed above them, leaving a small gap between it and the cliff. Ridge aimed for it, tilting the wings just so. They cruised through with inches to spare. Even without looking he knew Therrik was ducking, because everyone did.

“Gods kill you, Zirkander! I’m going to—” Therrik’s threat ended in an abrupt gagging sound.

Ridge flew upside down again, taking them over the arch, then twisting back into the canyon, heading toward the mouth again.

“I guess I was wrong,” Ridge announced. “All quiet in here. No smoke.” A pile of vomit perhaps, but no smoke. And Ridge would happily clean that out himself and consider the morning a victory.

“Good to know, sir,” Ahn said dryly.

“I’m going to kill you,” Therrik said weakly as they flew out of the canyon.

“Really? So early in the mission? People usually need to fly with me longer before they feel that way.” Ridge pushed the engine to maximum so they could catch the others.

Therrik groaned.

“Listen, Colonel. I’ll make a deal with you. You stop threatening me, and I’ll give you something to settle your gut.”

“Like what?” Therrik sounded suspicious. Not good. Had Ridge been too eager?

“Not everyone up here is a natural. We have tablets for airsickness.” Ridge resisted the urge to weave back and forth more times to further sell Tolemek’s pill. By now, Therrik was probably miserable just flying straight.

“Fine,” the man growled.

Ridge looked down and pretended to fumble around in the metal first-aid kit snapped in beside his seat. Then he extended his arm over his shoulder, holding out the tablet. Thank Tolemek’s crafty side, he had even wrapped it in foil packaging that made it look like something that had come out of a general mercantile rather than a lab.

Therrik took it. Ridge kept himself from craning his neck to look back and see if the man put it in his mouth. He did weave a little excessively as he returned to the formation, taking his position at point. Less than five miles to the meeting spot with Sardelle. Ridge doubted Tolemek’s pill would work that quickly, but he could make some excuse and turn back, then catch up with the team again.

A couple of minutes passed with nothing more than the thrum of the propeller for company. Ridge tapped his thumb on the top of the stick, wanting to look back, but afraid Therrik would be back there, glaring at him, and would get suspicious at being checked on.

He caught Ahn looking in his direction and groped for a way to ask her if anything strange was going on with his passenger. She either figured out what he wanted, or made the observation of her own accord.

“I guess Crazy Canyon didn’t live up to its name, sir. Colonel Therrik looks bored. Actually, he looks like he’s taking a nap.”

Ridge twisted in his seat to check. Ah, yes, it had worked. The glow of the energy source in the rear showed Therrik slumped down in his seat, his head against the side of the flier. Ugh, he
had
vomited all over himself. Most people tried to stick their heads over the side at least…

“He’s actually sick,” Ridge said, wishing the communication devices allowed him to single Ahn out for his message. Unfortunately everyone would hear it, including Therrik’s two captains, so he had to make this sound plausible. “I don’t think he has the stomach for an ocean crossing. I’m going to take him back. Continue on course, everyone. I’ll catch up.” He touched the crystal again to dull its glow—and turn it off. He didn’t want to field questions from Kaika or Nowon until it was far too late for them to do anything about the situation.

Ridge dropped out of the formation and turned for land again. He imagined Duck, Ahn, and Apex sharing our-commander-has-gone-crazy looks. He wondered if he had. If Sardelle were not in his life, offering herself as an intriguing alternative ally for this mission, he would have simply dealt with command under Therrik. Probably. Maybe. Enh, he might have arranged to accidentally leave the colonel behind anyway. Working with someone so volatile would be dangerous to everyone.

“Sure, Ridge, keep telling yourself that.” Sighing, he steered for the dark shoreline, the whites of the waves breaking in Monomy Bay.

Dawn was still a ways off, but he had running lights. He could make the landing on the highway, however dark and empty it was.

An orange glow flared below, and he flinched, alarmed to find someone on his chosen runway. Someone who might catch him at this duplicitous exchange. Then the logical part of his mind caught up with his wild thoughts. If Sardelle could take on an enemy shaman and win, she could surely light up the highway for him.

Ridge aimed for the flat road, the stones black and wet from intermittent precipitation. His usual flier required room for landing and taking off, but the two-seaters, designed for flying important people around the continent, had thrusters and could perch on rooftops, cliffs, and even vessels at sea. He activated those thrusters to come down lightly in front of the light source, what turned out to be a ball of swirling orange flame. It lit the surrounding landscape—fields of high grass with cliffs in one direction and the sand and sea in the other—with its soft glow. To some distant observer, it might appear as a torch, a particularly effective torch.

Ridge lifted his goggles and spotted a familiar horse in the grass with Sardelle standing next to it, holding its reins and keeping it from shying away from the flier. He cut off the engine, unstrapped his harness, and checked his passenger. He didn’t know how long Tolemek’s pill would last, but Therrik was still snoozing. Good. Ridge didn’t want a confrontation, especially one he couldn’t win. Sardelle could probably wave her hand and save him, but needing to have one’s balls extricated from the dragon’s maw was no way to impress one’s lady. As it was, levering Therrik’s two-hundred-odd-pounds out of the seat and to the ground wouldn’t be easy.

“Good morning, Sardelle.” Ridge removed his cap, pressed it to his chest, and gave her a little bow, then clambered out of the cockpit to unstrap the colonel. He left his gloves on, since vomit was splattered onto the harness. Speaking of things that wouldn’t impress a lady…

“Good morning, Ridge. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

“Terribly long. Have you been pining with loneliness?”

“Most assuredly.”

With the propeller noise fading, a noshing sound reached his ears. The horse was munching an apple out of Sardelle’s hand. The mare wasn’t hot and lathered after its swift trip up the coast.

“Lift with your legs, not your back,” Ridge muttered and hauled Therrik out of the seat. He rolled him over the edge of the flier, keeping a hold of his belt, so he wouldn’t crash down, head first. Back straining, he lowered the bulky man by the belt. It turned out even his butt was solid muscle. Maybe that was what had once drawn Captain Kaika. Ridge didn’t let go until the colonel was within three feet of the ground. That was as far as he could reach. At that point, he dropped Therrik, doing his best to keep the man’s head from hitting the stone, even if a few cracks to the skull might improve his personality. Ridge hopped down and rolled the colonel to the side of the highway, so he wouldn’t risk hitting him during the takeoff—and so any early morning donkey carts wouldn’t run over him. Therrik was going to be irked enough without waking up with hoofmarks on his face.

“Do you need help with anything?” Sardelle asked.

“No, thank you. Actually, can you bring the mare over here? Maybe we can find something to tie her reins to. The colonel might be slightly less murderous if there’s a horse waiting to take him home.”

“She’ll wait.”

“Without being tied?” It was an army horse, and Ridge hadn’t worked with it enough to know what it had been trained to do. He was certain Sardelle had never seen it before that night.

“Yes.”

“Discussed it, did you?” Ridge was done with the colonel and stepped back onto the road, wiping moisture and grass off his hands. “I didn’t think you were one of those sorceresses who specialized in working with animals.” Until he had met Sardelle, he hadn’t even known there
were
sorceresses who specialized in animals, speaking with them telepathically and such.

“I’m not, but she’s an amenable soul.” Sardelle led the mare over to the colonel, stroked its neck a few times, and gazed into its big dark eyes for a moment.

Ridge decided to find the situation precious and definitely not creepy.

Sardelle released the reins and stepped out onto the highway beside him, bringing with her the saddlebags he had packed. Instead of one of her usual dresses, she wore dark leathers that would be appropriate for skulking around in forests or cities at night. They were form-fitting and drew attention to her attractive figure, even in the poor light. She also wore boots, her sword, and a fur-lined cloak appropriate for the chill weather. She carried a small bag, destroying all the tales proclaiming a woman’s inability to pack light. Maybe she could magic more things into existence if she needed them.

“Seems a shame to leave her here with such a non-amenable soul,” Ridge said.

“I trust you’ll explain that on the way across the ocean.”

“Explaining his soul might be difficult.” Ridge waved her over to the flier, then crouched and linked his fingers to offer her a boost up.

“His presence alongside the road is what I’m more curious about.” She stepped into his hands and let him boost her into the flier. She was a lot lighter than Therrik. And her backside was a lot more pleasant to look at. He hadn’t made a mistake. He hadn’t. And if he had… he would find a way to make it right. “Ridge… is this vomitus on the seat?”

“Er, possibly.” He winced. Why hadn’t he thought to wipe the seat and toss that gunk over the side?

“I knew flying with you would be an adventure.”

“I’ll try to make the ride smoother for you.” Ridge jumped, caught the edge of the cockpit, and pulled himself up.

“Now, now, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Sardelle sat in the seat, but not before Ridge saw that it was cleaner than it had been before Therrik climbed in back at the hangar, with even the harness free of detritus.

“Yes, ma’am.” Ridge flipped a couple of switches, and they were soon off.

* * *

“Nice of you to rejoin us, sir,” came Lieutenant Ahn’s voice over the communication crystal.

Sardelle, settled in the seat behind Ridge, smiled, pleased the pilots were using the devices she had made. At least
some
body appreciated her presence in the city, or what she could make anyway.

Except they don’t think you made them, remember?

I know, but perhaps someday the truth can be revealed.

Before they succeed in hanging, drowning, or otherwise slaying you, let’s hope.

That’s the plan, Jaxi.

There’s a plan? I had no idea.

It’s in its formative stages.

“We can’t help but notice Colonel Therrik got prettier while you were gone, sir,” a male pilot with a country drawl said. That must be Lieutenant Duck. Ridge had told her who he had selected for the mission—and that the other pilot, Apex, was an academic who would be too busy being frosty about Tolemek’s presence to chat much.

At first, Ridge didn’t respond to this ribbing, and Sardelle wondered if he would. As the commander, he shouldn’t have to explain himself, but then again, if his people believed he was defying orders and doing something that would jeopardize the mission, they might have the right to question him. She wasn’t sure what the modern regulations stated. The Iskandian Guard had required absolute obedience to one’s superior officers, no matter what, but she had heard Ridge mention more than once a soldier’s duty to question unlawful orders. Of course, he might have simply been justifying his own habit of questioning everything.