Patterns in the Dark (Dragon Blood Book 4) (33 page)

His vision blurred, and he had to wipe his eyes before he could see Duck, trying to read the expression on his face as he withdrew his fingers.

“She’s alive,” he said.

Tolemek nodded, relief stealing the strength from his limbs. If he had been standing, he would have crumpled to the ground. He didn’t think he could talk, so he didn’t try. After pushing away the rest of the debris burying her, he slid his arms under Cas’s shoulders and hips. He found the energy to stand up, lifting her with the intent of putting her somewhere safe—less covered with glass—but he didn’t know where. The corridor Duck had been guarding had broken glass scattered on the stone floor, but that was it. He almost headed in that direction, but what of the soldiers? If they had caused that rockfall, they would send someone to check on the results of it soon. He headed for the flat stone top of a workstation instead. He had to set Cas down somewhere safe, then find Tylie. Fortunately, Duck was already heading in her direction, though he paused to stare at Sardelle, who was kneeling beside Zirkander. His eyes were also closed, his face cut, the front of his uniform dark and damp with blood. Sardelle had a hand on his chest, her chin drooped and her eyes closed.

Tolemek navigated past them, the footing more awkward than walking on logs floating in a river. He tripped, nearly losing Cas, and her eyes fluttered open.

“Cas,” he said by way of greeting. His throat was so thick with emotion that he couldn’t manage more. Not knowing what internal injuries she had suffered, he resisted the urge to squeeze her.

“I hurt,” she whispered.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He continued to the workstation. “I need to find Tylie, but you’ll be all right. Sardelle will finish with Zirkander, and she’ll help you.” Looking down at her wan face, he felt guilty about leaving her, even if it was only to go to the other side of the room.

“Tolemek?” she murmured, lifting a hand slightly.

“Yes?”

Her hand rested on his shoulder, and she opened her mouth, but hesitated. Then she said, “Every time I see you today, you’re wearing fewer clothes.”

He snorted softly. “It’s a tropical climate.”

He sat her on the table, pushed glass off it, and started to lay her down.

“Wait.” Cas’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “Tolemek?” she asked again.

“Yes?”

She swallowed and met his eyes. “I love you.”

“I…” He had hoped for those words from her, but he had not expected them. Almost overcome with emotion, he had to close his eyes for a moment before he could find his voice and respond. “I love you too.”

“Good.”

He smiled. “Good.”

This time, she let him lay her down. Her rifle was still strapped to her back. She frowned when he tried to remove it, so he left it. If she wanted it poking her in the shoulder blades, so be it. What did it matter? She loved him. Something he would savor more later. Right now, Tylie needed him.

“Wait here for Sardelle,” he said.

Cas’s eyebrows twitched, but she didn’t defy him.

As soon as his hands were free, Tolemek ran across the hills of debris, heading for the corner where Duck was already digging. “Have you found her?” he asked.
Tylie?
he tried again with his mind.

“Not yet, but Sardelle said she’s here.” Duck shoved aside a filing cabinet with a grunt, the drawers falling open and papers flying everywhere. He hadn’t been bloodied when he had come out of the corridor, but his hands were cut up now.

Still using his vest for protection, Tolemek dug in. He was vaguely aware of glass crunching behind him, of someone moving past them, climbing over the mounds of debris that had once been the glass wall. Sardelle? No, that was Cas. He frowned. Why hadn’t she stayed put? Nothing except a dark mountain of rock waited out there.

“Cas, what are you doing?” Tolemek demanded, torn between needing to keep digging for his sister and wanting to grab her and pull her back inside, make her lie down and rest. “You were unconscious two minutes ago, damn it.”

She waved back at him, but that was all the acknowledgment she offered. With her gaze darting around the dark chamber—what remained of it—and her rifle in her hands, she looked like a panther on the prowl.

“I see a hand,” Duck blurted.

Tolemek looked down and redoubled his digging efforts. He doubted there was anything out there alive, not after that huge rockfall, but he would have to trust Cas to take care of herself if there was.

* * *

Cas was aware of the tinkle of glass and thumps of debris being pushed aside behind her, but she tried to focus her awareness on the chamber—what remained of it. The night sky opened above her now, the entire top third of the ziggurat having fallen into this chamber. The dragon head statue from the pinnacle had survived the plummet and had rolled into one corner, the brazier tilted on its side and the fire out.

She stepped as quietly as she could atop the shifting rocks. Every time she bent slightly or inhaled deeply, a stab of pain came from her ribs. Her head ached like someone was hammering a spike into her skull, the feeling intensifying every time she turned it. Tolemek’s suggestion of lying down wasn’t a bad one, but she couldn’t rest while the team was in danger, and she had no doubt that danger remained here. She had no idea if the dragon had survived—it seemed unlikely that any living creature, powerful and magical or not, could have—but
someone
had set the explosives that had taken out the roof. And she had an idea as to who that someone was. Who else here wanted the dragon dead? No one.

He might have already left, assuming his task complete, but her father was a thorough man. She wagered that he wouldn’t leave until he knew for certain that he had succeeded. Whoever had hired him might even require some proof that the deed had been accomplished.

As she followed the base of the rubble mountain, she moved away from the lab until the others disappeared from view, hidden by the rock. Most of the light disappeared, too, leaving deep shadows on this side. The latticework of vines that spread across the crater high above kept out most of the starlight. She had to rely on her senses, on her ears and—

She crinkled her nose as the faintest hint of gunpowder drifted to her on a draft. Had the explosion been set off somewhere nearby? No, she was walking where the dragon had been resting. To take down the roof, the explosives must have placed up in one of those tunnels, or perhaps even on the wall up higher. She shouldn’t be smelling it down here, unless the person who had been handling the gunpowder was close by.

Cas halted, rotating slowing, trying to pierce the gloom with her eyes. Her own senses itched, and she had a feeling someone was trying to see her, as well. She had stayed close to the wall, both so it would be at her back and so its shadows would camouflage her. But against her father, she doubted any camouflage would be enough. Was that some movement halfway up the rock mound? She pointed her rifle in that direction.

“I was wrong to suggest you remain outside,” came a soft, familiar voice from the shadows.

Cas swallowed. Even though she had come out here, knowing she was most likely hunting her father, she didn’t know what she should do now. Shoot? Over a dragon that had been hours from death anyway? Over her own injuries, injuries she had received as a result of the explosive he had set? She wasn’t sure she could manage indignation over that, but what of Zirkander? She had glimpsed Sardelle kneeling over him and didn’t know if he was alive and she was working some magic or if he was dead and she was mourning him. It was that sight that had driven Cas out here. She might forgive her father for a lot of things, but if his actions took Zirkander’s life…

Had he even considered that fellow Iskandians were in here? Had he thought about aborting or changing his mission when he had learned Cas was in here? Or had he decided that he had done his duty to her by giving her that warning?

“You are competent enough to survive much,” he said, his voice still soft, too soft for anyone in the lab to hear.

She thought he sounded proud of her, but at the same time, she would be shocked if he weren’t pointing a firearm in her direction, the same as she was pointing one at him.

“Your mission was to kill the dragon?” Cas asked, talking to buy time, to figure out what she meant to do, but also because she needed to know if anyone else in her party was a target. Just because he had
started
with the dragon didn’t mean he didn’t have orders to kill someone else.

“Kill the dragon, collect blood samples, yes.”

“How did you know he was here? That he existed? Those were top secret orders.”

“The king is not the only one with spies,” he said.

Cas still couldn’t pick him out among the shadows, even though she must be looking right at him. Still, if she shot, she was fairly certain she would hit him. With his instincts, he might anticipate her intent and shoot first. He had been doing this all of his life, after all.

A whisper of sound came from his direction, not a voice but something else. A knife being pulled from a sheath? Maybe he didn’t have a pistol aimed at her, after all.

A hint of light came from the shadows, a pale green glow like that of some of the goos in Tolemek’s collection back home. But this was no goo, nor was it like the globes of illumination that Sardelle waved into existence. This was a sword, a long, heavy-looking blade that reminded Cas as much of a meat cleaver as a war tool. The glow came from the weapon.

“You have a soulblade?” Cas asked. Her father was the last person she would have expected to show up with a magical sword. And the fact that it glowed, did that mean it was attuned to him? That he had some of that dragon blood Sardelle spoke of? Wouldn’t Sardelle or Jaxi have sensed it in her if it ran in the family?

Her father gazed down at the sword, turning it over with his hand. “I was told it’s some kind of dragon sticker and has the power to cut through almost anything, including dragon hides. Admittedly I wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My employer.” A slight smile ghosted across his face, his features illuminated by the soft glow. “It’s on loan.”

He pressed the tip against the rocks at his feet and leaned into it.

After seeing Jaxi drill through the wall up above, Cas wasn’t shocked when the rubble melted away from the blade. Smoke rose, and the air smelled of burning rock.

“You don’t think the dragon is dead already?” Cas hadn’t felt any movement under foot, no shifting from the rocks.

“It likely is. In its state, it wasn’t a particularly worthy opponent. But I must return with evidence to prove that the mission was completed if I wish to be paid.”

“Why does that even matter? You have enough money to last you the rest of your lifetime. Why come all the way out here for that?”

“The challenge, of course. To be the best. To leave a legacy and a reputation for the business… if my daughter will come be a part of it.”

Cas hadn’t lowered her rifle, and she didn’t now. The rocks melted away, and he sank lower, unfazed by the smoke rising around him. Heat wafted from the new hole, enough that Cas could feel it. Oddly, it didn’t seem to affect him, even though he stood in the middle of it. Some benefit of the sword? She wondered how far he would have to dig to reach the dragon. And if she should do something to stop him. Wouldn’t she have already attacked if he weren’t her kin? Her shared blood? She hadn’t hesitated to stop the Cofah soldiers from harming her teammates. But the dragon was probably already dead and wasn’t on the team, regardless.

That dragon is the only one who can heal your commander, genius. Better keep him alive.

Cas flinched at the sudden intrusion in her head. She immediately smoothed her face, not wanting her father to see her surprise. Even if the shadows still cloaked her, they couldn’t be as deep, not with that sword glowing over there.

Is
he still alive?

Yes, we were making great progress before this ugly stoat blew up the pyramid. But obviously, we’re both at somewhat of a disadvantage here. I’m going to melt my way out, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to beat Kasandral.

Who?

Not who.
What
. That’s the sword he’s holding. Dragon sticker—the irreverence slays me. An Iskandian king wielded that fifteen hundred years ago. Stop him, or I will.

Cas didn’t know if the soulblade
could
stop her father from under tons of rock, but she didn’t know that Jaxi
couldn’t
, either. It didn’t matter. If the dragon was the only one who could heal Zirkander, then Cas had to keep him alive.

“Stop, Father.” She had never shifted her aim away from him—even though he had lowered nearly to his chest as the ground melted away around him—and she tightened her finger on the trigger. “I can’t let you kill the dragon.”

“You won’t shoot me, Caslin.”

“No, but I will,” someone said from the side at the same time as a pistol went off.

Utter shock flashed across her father’s face as a bullet slammed into the side of his shoulder. He dropped the sword and leaped from the hole. A second shot fired, but he was sprinting across the rock, disappearing into the shadows now that he wasn’t holding the glowing blade.

Cas should have fired, too, but was secretly glad that someone else had taken over, at least for this task. She stared at Zirkander, shocked that he was up and even more shocked that he had succeeded in sneaking up on her father. He heard
everything
. She usually did too.

Did you not hear him coming? Such a shame.

From the sarcasm that accompanied Jaxi’s words, Cas assumed she had done something to mute Zirkander’s approach.

Good guess. Now could you all get off of us, so we can try to bust out of this prison?

Zirkander gave Cas a salute and a wry smile that suggested he had heard the command request, as well, and shambled back toward the lab. Sardelle might have helped with his wounds, but he still looked like a man half in the grave.

Cas gazed in the direction her father had gone. He had been struck, but that hadn’t been a fatal blow. He could yet be trouble. She would watch Zirkander’s back the rest of the time they were out here, but first she climbed up to the fresh hole the sword had melted. Heat still radiated off it, but it wasn’t so warm that she couldn’t stand on it. The sword had stopped glowing, and it lay where her father had dropped it. She hopped in, grabbed it, and the blade started glowing again. Apparently, it didn’t care who wielded it.