Patterns in the Dark (Dragon Blood Book 4) (22 page)

I could barely tell where
you
were. There’s a lot of interference from Giant and Sleepy down there. Listen, you shouldn’t have gone off alone. Cas’s father is here, apparently with a mission to kill someone. Or something.

What? How does that… even make sense?

Cas isn’t real sure about that, either, from what I gather. But listen, we’re having some trouble out here. Perhaps you’d like to come out and throw around some of your dreaded concoctions.

Tolemek winced. If they—Cas—needed help, he didn’t want to leave the group to fend for itself, but he was so close. Tylie must be nearby. She
must
.

What’s going on that you and Sardelle can’t handle?

Jaxi didn’t answer. Tolemek let his head thunk against the side of the wall. Would there be someone in the lab who could lead him to Tylie? He wished he could tell how many people might be working in there. He slipped his hand into his pocket and rubbed the leather ball. He considered dropping the twenty feet to the floor, running for that door, and trying to surprise those inside. But what if the dragon woke up? What if the door was locked? He would be stuck on the floor with a creature that might find him a tasty snack.

Reluctantly, he decided he needed to look for another way into that laboratory. On the way, he would check on the others. He wished he knew if they were still outside the ziggurat or had come in.

Jaxi?

Again, he didn’t receive an answer. Tolemek pushed up to his elbows and was about to try and turn around when movement caught his eye below.

The clear wall shimmered, a strange ripple that plucked at his senses. If it was made from glass, there must be some magical element about it. The door opened, and something else shimmered, a barrier that stretched from wall to wall above the dragon. After the brief ripple, it disappeared again, leaving Tolemek glad he hadn’t tried to jump down there, after all.

A man carrying a rifle walked out of the laboratory. At least, Tolemek thought it was a man. The figure wore the same bulky, form-obscuring garb as the other two men had, a head-to-toe leather ensemble that appeared about as comfortable as a thorn in the foot. A big helmet covered his entire head, with flaps extending to the shoulders. A glass face panel presumably allowed the wearer to see. The whole suit reminded him of what divers wore when trying to salvage wrecks from the ocean floor. It was slowly dawning on him what that might signify in this situation when a second figure walked out of the room.

His breath caught. Tylie.

She
wasn’t
wearing a suit. She wasn’t even wearing shoes. She padded forward on bare feet, a dirty dress hanging limply down to her calves. Her face and bare arms were dirty, too, and she looked cold. Unlike the hot, humid jungle outside, the tunnel passages were cool, like caves. Tolemek couldn’t see her face well, looking down from above, but she walked forward slowly, her chin to her chest, her long, straight brown hair falling forward in curtains, shadowing her cheeks.

He wanted to yell out to her, to see her eyes, to know if she was sane, to know how badly she was being treated, to know how to pull her away from these people. But the guard had taken up a position beside the door, his back to the glass, and his rifle in his arms. He watched her through his clear faceplate.

Tylie didn’t look back, didn’t acknowledge him. She padded toward the dragon, carrying a small rack of empty vials in one hand and an oversized tool in the other with a needle so long and thick that Tolemek could see it from his perch.

Tylie!
he tried calling with his mind, even though he knew he had never learned a mote of telepathy, hadn’t even been aware that such a thing existed until a couple of months ago.

But she was the one who could call out, not he, and she didn’t look up. Somehow, she had known he was on the mountainside earlier, but she must not be aware of him now. Maybe the dragon’s presence blunted the effectiveness of her senses, the same way it affected Sardelle.

Tolemek gripped the edge of his hole with both hands, watching with horror as she walked closer to the dragon, its size dwarfing her. It hadn’t moved yet, nor shown any hint that it might wake up, but he couldn’t help but fear that it would. That its eyes would open, and its giant head would swing toward Tylie. The long, sword-like fangs in its mouth might not be visible from where he perched, but he had seen the skeletons in the museums. He knew they were there and that they could chomp a human in half easily.

When Tylie reached the dragon’s side, she set down the vials, then reached out, not with the needle but with her hand, resting her palm against the silver scales. She bowed her head even further, as if offering a prayer. Or an apology? Everything about her stance, along with that presence of that guard, said she was a prisoner.

The man must have said something, because Tylie looked over her shoulder at him for a moment. Then she lowered her hand and moved the needle toward the dragon’s hide. Those scales appeared hard enough to repel bullets, but she found a spot behind its arm—leg, whatever dragons had—and poked her needle between two scales. Tolemek held his breath, certain the creature would wake up, certain it would spin toward the one daring to prick it.

But it didn’t move. Tylie plucked up one of the vials, fastening it to the back of the tool, and dark red blood flowed through the needle and into the receptacle.

While she was filling the second one, another man walked out of the room, this one also wearing the protective clothing and helmet. Judging by their bent heads, he spoke to the first. Whatever the barrier was that separated Tolemek from the dragon and that chamber, he couldn’t hear a thing through it. But as he watched the men converse, his thoughts spun back to the purpose of those suits. He hadn’t ever worn such a thing or even seen one, but if that apparatus on their backs was a filter or self-contained oxygen supply, the gear might have been designed to protect the wearer from bad air—from
infected
air. He didn’t miss the fact that Tylie wasn’t wearing one, and his fingers tightened further around the stone edge of the shaft. If that barrier hadn’t been there, he might have risked injury to jump down and attack those men, to rip off their helmets and force them to breathe the air they were making Tylie breath. Whatever was causing the sicknesses—the deaths.

Was it the dragon itself? Its blood? Sardelle had objected to the idea, but she, too, had been born into a world that hadn’t seen dragons for centuries. How much of an expert could she truly be? If it was the blood, had Tylie been infected because she was handling it? Or was it possible she had some immunity, and that was why they were using her? If so, why would that be? If that winged tiger had been infected, then possessing dragon blood alone didn’t protect a creature.

Tylie was on the sixth and final vial. Tolemek forced his tight grip on the edge of the floor to loosen and slid his hands along the smooth rock, wondering if he might find some tiny pebble to toss down there, something that might alert her to his presence without drawing the guards from their conversation. All he found was a tiny fleck, scarcely a millimeter thick. He doubted it would make a noise when it landed, but he lofted it in Tylie’s direction anyway.

It struck the translucent barrier and burst into flame. For a moment, it was as if a match burned above Tylie’s head.

Tolemek stared down, willing her to notice the flame. But it burned out too quickly. He sighed and was about to withdraw, resolved that he would have to search for another way down, but his sister lifted her head. She looked straight at him. It was only for a second, then she dropped her face again, but they had made eye contact. It had been as if she knew he was there all along.

For the second time in his life, her voice sounded in his head.

The dragon is dying,
she informed him solemnly.

Are
you
all right
? The dragon’s welfare wasn’t high on his list of concerns.
I’m here to get you out of here. Can you help me? Tell me how to get down there? To reach you?

We can’t leave Phelistoth marooned here.

Phelistoth? Was that the dragon? It wasn’t important now.
How many men are there, Tylie?

We have to figure out how to help him, how to free him. This is my fault.
Tylie didn’t look up at him again—maybe she didn’t want to draw the guard’s attention in his direction—but she shook her head slowly, morosely, and he sensed her pain.
It’s my fault, Tolie.

You can tell me about it later. This place is a maze. I need your help.
Actually, he was guessing that it was a maze. Maybe he should have gone straight down that passage from the front door, and it would have led him to this room. He would go back and try that if she didn’t give him the information he needed. But it would be useful to get some inside intelligence, here.
Tylie—

Don’t you understand? They wouldn’t know about him if it weren’t for me. He would still be sleeping.

He looks like he’s sleeping now
. Tolemek kept his thoughts calm and patient—or tried to at least. Tylie had never been entirely there when he had spoken to her, not since she had been a child, and she might be nearly eighteen now, but it was as if her mind had gone backwards instead of growing up with her body.

No, he’s unconscious now
, Tylie responded, urgency in her words.
He’s dying.

Tolemek looked up at the tiered stone ceiling. Earlier, he had thought there might be an exit up there, that people would need to be able to climb up there and light that dragon head brazier, but there wasn’t so much as a ladder or a dangling rope. He also didn’t see anything that resembled a trapdoor. He couldn’t imagine how the dragon had gotten in here in the first place, and he couldn’t see a way to get him out.
Tylie
, you’re
my primary concern. What’s the best way down there? How do I get you out of here?

I’m not going without him.

Tylie…
Tolemek resisted the urge to let his forehead thunk to the stone floor.
We have to—

Her head whipped around, and he stopped, as if they were having a conversation out loud and might be overheard.

One of the guards was pointing at her. She picked up the small rack, now full of blood samples, and walked back toward the men, her head bowed.

Tylie?
Tolemek called with his thoughts, in the hope she was still listening to him, or receiving him, whatever Jaxi had called her ability.

She didn’t answer. She walked through the doorway and disappeared into the lab. One of the guards followed her. The other frowned at the dragon, then looked up. Tolemek hadn’t made a noise and hadn’t expected either of the men to glance upward, not now. He froze, afraid that movement would draw the guard’s eye, but he knew he was in sight, that the red light on that panel illuminated enough of the core that the shadows wouldn’t hide him. The guard looked right at him and grabbed his gun. Tolemek ducked back into the tunnel, cursing himself for lingering there. He half expected bullets to fly in his direction, but the guard must have remembered the barrier. He simply shouted something that, between the helmet and the barrier, Tolemek couldn’t understand. It didn’t matter. He got the gist. The Cofah knew he was here.

Chapter 11

Cas crouched in the brush at the top of the crater, her rifle across her thighs. Ten men in pirate clothing were shooting and creeping down the trail toward the ziggurat entrance, using crude wooden shields hacked from logs to protect themselves from gunfire that came from the guards. Yes, guards. Where there had been one before, six or eight men had gathered in the tunnel mouth, and they were returning fire. The stone walls protected them—and the fact that the intruders were busy dodging their fire. Cas couldn’t imagine the pirates making it past the guards. Or anyone else making it past them, either. But the pirates pushed on, drawing closer to the braziers. Two in the back were readying grenades, while two others tried to sneak close from the sides.

“That’s going to be a problem,” Duck whispered from beside her. “Reckon we missed our chance to get in?”

“Unless we want to get shot,” Cas said. “Or unless we shoot all of them.”

“I suppose that’s an option for you. How many rounds do you have in that rifle?”

“Enough for a few pirates.” From the elevated position, Cas could pick off the closest men without too much trouble, but she couldn’t see the guards in the tunnel, except when one leaned out to shoot at the pirates angling for the door from the side.

“Well,” Zirkander said from behind a nearby tree. “We got our distraction.”

The proper response to one’s commanding officer was usually a polite, “Yes, sir,” no matter what the situation. Cas couldn’t help but point out, “Yes, but it’s right in
front
of the only door.”

“I did note that.”

“Are you all right, Ridge?” Sardelle asked, coming up behind him. “You sound tired. And you’re slumping unnaturally.”

“I’m fine. Aside from realizing we should have made our incursion ten minutes ago. And slumping isn’t unnatural when you’ve been traveling for days.”

“It is for you. You’re always full of vigor.”

Cas would have snorted at the comment—shouldn’t couples talk about vigor in private?—but Zirkander
did
sound tired.

“You keep rubbing your face,” Sardelle said. “Your skin is warm.”

Zirkander sighed. “I know.”

Cas stared at the grass, her stomach sinking. They had been worried all along that they would become infected by whatever this disease was. Had it finally happened? Or had it happened to all of them long ago, and Zirkander was the first to show symptoms?

“Ridge…” Sardelle whispered, defeat in her voice. She leaned against him.

“Let’s just get into the pyramid and finish this mission,” Zirkander said. “We’ll worry about the rest in the morning. Will you tell Jaxi that we really do need that back door?”