Dragon Storm (Heritage of Power Book 1)

Rysha picked a careful route behind Kaika and in front of the silent and stony Dreyak, wishing they dared carry a lantern through the dark jungle. Twilight had come and gone, and they hadn’t yet reached their destination. The fishy sea air was strong, though, so they had to be close. Cicadas, or something like them, spoke loudly from the trees, covering the sounds of their footsteps. Not that they had encountered anyone else out here.

The trees ended abruptly, and Kaika paused before heading out into a clearing. The sky, visible for the first time since the pond, held a quarter moon that shone its silvery light through the clouds. It was enough to see the stump-dotted knee-high grass that stretched toward a cliff overlooking the ocean.

After ensuring nobody was skulking about up there—besides them—they headed through the field. About halfway across, the top of the fortress came into view. Rising five stories high and built out over the water on the east end of a sheltered harbor, the structure was larger than Rysha had imagined. It was still too dark to see details clearly, but it appeared to be made entirely from logs and beams, with open platforms all around the living areas, many of them attached by rope bridges. It looked like the kind of tree fort kids dreamed of making.

“Very flammable,” Dreyak observed, his first words since they had left the pond.

Not that Rysha had been chatty, either. She’d been thinking about Trip and whether she should be thinking about Trip. As far as she knew, they had nothing in common other than the military, and she wasn’t quite sure why she found herself drawn to him. She’d always imagined herself with some professor or university researcher, someone who said, “Why, yes of course,” when she started a sentence with, “Did you know?” And someone her parents would approve of. She didn’t think they would insist that she marry into the nobility, especially her father, who’d done work on genetics and believed “diversity” was healthy for a bloodline. But she was positive they would object to a soldier.

Of course, Rysha did not plan to marry anytime soon. Or even bring someone home to meet her parents. She didn’t know why she was thinking about this. Because she’d liked touching Trip when he’d had his shirt off? It had admittedly been nice. He was all taut lean muscle and warm tan skin, and there was that intriguing sense of power that lurked underneath the surface, an odd juxtaposition to his usually mild-mannered disposition. And then there were those deep green eyes of his. They weren’t typical for Iskandians. Nor Cofah, for that matter. Sometimes, when she caught him looking at her, there seemed to be a charge in the air between them.

Rysha rolled her eyes at herself, feeling like the horny teenagers she’d always scoffed at in school. Relationships should be formed based on rational thought and common interests, not hormones. She’d always believed that.

Not that people couldn’t simply have sex without getting involved in relationships. Captain Kaika, she imagined, had operated with that philosophy for much of her life. Simply taking to bed men she was attracted to.

But as she’d proven at the pirates’ tavern that morning, Rysha was not Captain Kaika.

“Flammable?” Kaika propped her boot on a stump. “Is there a reason you’re making that observation, Dreyak?”

Rysha jerked her mind back to the present, embarrassed she’d allowed herself to be distracted while they stood atop a cliff, overlooking the enemy fortress.

“You have explosives, yes?” Dreyak asked. “They could be planted around the compound and detonated. I assume you have timers or a way to trigger them remotely.”

“Yes, but then I risk blowing up the sword we want, along with a bunch of people that may or may not be criminals.”

“They are on the Pirate Isles. They are criminals.”

“They could be slaves.”

“Unlikely.”

“I’ve encountered it before.” Kaika shrugged. “I’m not ruling out your suggestion, mind you. It’s not what Zirkander asked us to do, but I doubt any of my higher ups would care if we destroyed a pirate fortress. We might even get a medal for it.”

“I seek only to defeat evil in glorious and honorable battle,” Dreyak said, lifting his chin. “Not awards.”

“How noble.”

“Would we need to worry about retaliation from the pirates if we destroyed their whole fortress?” Rysha asked, though her mind shrank away from wantonly killing people, especially since Kaika had brought up the possibility of slaves. She would happily engage in a mission that involved capturing hundreds of pirates and taking them to Iskandia to stand for their crimes, but acting as judge and executioner out here? When their superiors hadn’t ordered it?

“We’d have all of the Iskandian army behind us if they did retaliate,” Kaika said, “but we might be able to do it in such a way that they won’t know who hit them.”

“The Iskandian army has a dragon problem it’s busy dealing with,” Rysha said.

“I think my lieutenant is voting against utterly blowing up the fortress.”

“Your lieutenant? Does the Iskandian army operate via a democracy?” Dreyak’s words dripped derision.

Rysha wished once again that they’d brought Trip along in addition to him. Or instead of him.

“No,” Kaika said, “but I like to listen to everyone’s input before making a decision.”

“And have you made it yet?” Dreyak asked. “Your decision.”

“You do have me contemplating explosives, I admit. I am fond of them.”

“It’s best to meet a foe on the battlefield and look him in the eye as you bury your sword in his chest, but when it comes to pirates, I will accept most ways of killing them.”

“So glad to have your acceptance,” Kaika said. “All right, here’s the plan. I will sneak in, probably from the water—I’m so glad Tolemek finally made me those waterproof bombs I asked for a few years ago—and I’ll set explosives around the foundation. It’s hard to tell from here, but it looks like most of the structure is perched on posts in the water. That’ll make it vulnerable to properly placed explosives. I’ll set them on a timer, one I can easily disconnect if all goes well. While I’m doing this, you two will head inside and try to find the sword. It could be in the warehouse level that man told us about, but it sounds like the pirate king is more likely to be sleeping with it. Either way, you’ve got to find it. I’ll meet you on… the third floor, that dark platform in the back there, in… thirty minutes. See it? If you haven’t been able to get the sword by then, I’ll help you get it. If we get out without a problem, we can remove the countdown on the way out so the explosives don’t blow. If we’re captured or in a battle… the explosives will be a good distraction.”

“The kind of distraction that engulfs you in an inferno?” Rysha asked.

“I’ll try to set the right amount so it blows the foundation without engulfing the entire building in an inferno.”

“So people will survive?” Dreyak sounded disappointed.

“Possibly, but I definitely recommend that you avoid being on the bottom levels.”

“What if that’s where the sword is?” Rysha asked.

“Then I recommend you get it quickly and get out.”

Rysha rubbed her head. She’d gone from worrying about their odds of surviving to worrying about how many bodies they might leave in their wake tonight.

Pirate bodies, she reminded herself. And she’d signed on to protect her country from people like this, people who had a long history of preying on law-abiding citizens in Iskandia. There was nothing wrong with striking preemptively.

“Use this,” Kaika said, pressing a small jar into Rysha’s hand, “to open any locked doors you may encounter. Use enough, and it can cut through walls too. It’s one of Tolemek’s goos, some acid that eats through almost anything. Be careful not to touch it.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“I’m heading in. Ravenwood, you’re in charge. Thirty minutes. Got your pocket watch?”

As they pulled out their military-issue watches, with large hands that could be read in the moonlight, to compare times, Dreyak made a discontented noise deep in his throat. He might have been clearing phlegm, or he might have been giving his opinion of having Rysha “in charge.”

“Give me a five-minute head start,” Kaika said and jogged through the grass to look for a way down from their field.

Despite the lack of cover, her clothing was dark, and she soon disappeared from sight.

“Good luck, ma’am,” Rysha whispered, feeling intimidated by all they had to do in thirty minutes.

• • • • •

“I think that’s as good as she’s going to get out here in the wilds,” Trip said, closing the engine panel and patting the side of the flier. “What do you think, Captain Duck?”

Duck stood next to him. He had been distraught to learn that his flier had encountered a few “obstacles upon landing,” as Blazer had put it.

“I think she’s awfully scratched up. You know who’s going to be expected to hammer, thump, and buff that fuselage back into aerodynamic sleekness when we get back, don’t you?”

“Your ground crew?”

Duck grunted. “Not alone. Wolf Squadron’s got a policy of pilots working alongside the maintenance boys to keep everything in good order, especially if you were the one responsible for damaging the craft. Which I wasn’t, but it’s a foregone conclusion nobody’s going to make Captain Kaika buff out scratches.”

“I’ll help you when we get back,” Trip said. “I don’t mind working on fliers. I find it restful.”

He never had to worry about machines thinking him odd.

Snores drifted to them from the log Trip had been sitting on earlier to patch up his wounds. Leftie and Blazer both lay on their backs on it, their eyes closed as frogs croaked in the pond. Trip believed Leftie responsible for the snores, but it was possible the major was contributing.

It had been a long day, night, and day. Blazer had assigned watch duty to Trip before taking her nap, promising she’d stand watch later in the night. He wondered if Captain Kaika had imagined the pilots snoozing while she and her incursion team went off to risk their lives. Trip certainly hadn’t imagined sitting on his hands while Rysha and Kaika put themselves in danger. Even though he understood the arguments, this didn’t sit well with him. Why bring a soulblade along if one couldn’t take her into dangerous situations?

We could ignore your orders and go scouting on our own, Jaxi recommended.

Trip had no interest in disobeying orders unless he learned that the others were in trouble, but curiosity prompted him to ask, You’d agree to that?

Of course I’d agree to it. Wasn’t it my idea?

Well, yes, but…

What? Jaxi asked.

You’re an ancient, wise soul. I expected you to be kind of a mentor, not someone likely to help me get into trouble.

A peal of laugher rang through his head.

He waited for it to stop before asking, Was that at the notion of you being wise and ancient or you being a mentor?

The part about keeping you out of trouble, actually. The idea of being a mentor is shudder-worthy, and don’t ever call a woman ancient.

What about wise?

So long as it’s not wisely ancient.

I’m not sure whether to be glad to learn that you’re unlikely to stop me if I do something stupid or concerned about it, Trip said.

I may stop you, or try to discourage you. It depends on how bored I am.

I guess that gives me a hint to your current mental state.

Duck alternated between “hm” noises and clucking noises as he surveyed the flier, touching dents and frowning.

A small hint, Jaxi said.

“I wonder what happened to that airship that we saw earlier,” Trip said. “It seemed to be coming this way, but we never saw it fly overhead.”

A yowl came from the forest. The nocturnal wildlife was coming alive now that dusk was waning.

“I never saw an airship,” Duck said. “Dreyak and I were deep in the woods all day. I reckon we were about to the other side where we could have had a look at that fortress when Jaxi called us back. If we’d known you were going to take a shortcut to get to this side of the island, we could have foregone scouting.”

“It wasn’t exactly a shortcut. And we got shot at a lot.”

“And attacked by trees, I see.” Duck clucked again as he patted the side of the flier.

Trip didn’t answer. He’d made sure the craft was mechanically sound. The dents and scratches could be dealt with back at the base.

While Duck continued his inspection, Trip removed his jacket and sword scabbard and started climbing a tree. It had few branches to act as hand and footholds, but that also meant there wasn’t much foliage to impede him or block his view.

Normally, Jaxi said, I’d be upset that you were going somewhere without me, but I’m not hugely enamored with falling from trees, so I won’t object to being left behind.

I wasn’t planning to fall.

Nobody ever is.

Trip doubted this tree would allow him to get high enough to see over all the others and out to sea, but he at least ought to have a view of the sky out across the pond. Maybe he could spot that—

He sucked in a breath as a powerful alien presence flew into his awareness. It startled him, and he almost lost his grip on the trunk.

I sense him too, Jaxi said.

Trip forced himself to stay calm, to keep breathing. The dragon seemed to be a ways out to sea still, and it was possible it—he—would fly past the islands without causing trouble, especially if the pirate king had fought off his kind before.

Since he was halfway up the tree, Trip decided to continue climbing. He could have taken his flier up, but that would be a lot more conspicuous to anyone looking out over the island, and the noise from the propellers could travel a great distance.

As soon as he could see over some of the trees on the far side of the pond, he glimpsed the black envelope of an airship hanging low in the sky. It was the same one they’d seen earlier. He couldn’t see the fortress or the sea from his position, but he guessed it had docked near the fortress.

Don’t guess, Jaxi said. Find out.

How? He’d sensed the dragon, and he could usually tell when he was standing next to something magical, but he had no idea how to detect more mundane things.

Performing magic is all about using the mind to manipulate the environment around you. Sensing is among the easiest of things a mage can learn to do. It’s a combination of opening your mind and sending it outward at the same time. It’s usually easiest to learn how to do this through mental exercises. A popular one involves you imagining your mind as a flower unfurling its petals.

A flower? Jaxi, can’t you give me something more manly to imagine than that?

Fine, imagine yourself lifting your arm for Rysha again, and your smelly armpit odor oozing out onto the wind.

Uh, what kind of flower?

Roses are popular since they start as such tight little buds. I’m partial to lotus flowers. She shared an image of each with him.

So, I stand here and imagine my brain is a blooming flower?

That or an odor-emanating armpit. Your choice.

I’m beginning to see why you don’t teach.

Just try it, Jaxi told him. It’s a little ridiculous how much potential you have and how completely unaware of it you are. You don’t want to be like Tolemek, do you? Goodness, he was almost thirty and had no idea he was incorporating magic into his potions.

Trip had been on the verge of trying to get his brain to bloom, but Jaxi’s digression made him pause. He’d always believed his mother wasn’t a “witch” or sorceress or anything else like that. But was it possible that he just hadn’t realized it? That she’d had talent, and her parents hadn’t known? Maybe that she hadn’t even known? He’d always assumed his sixth sense came from the father he’d never known, but what if the townspeople had somehow been right, or at least correct in realizing his mother had a gift? A curse.

Do your grandparents show signs of having a sixth sense, as you call it? Jaxi asked.

Not that I’ve ever noticed.

If your mother had dragon blood, at least one of her parents would’ve had to.

Hm. Trip imagined his grandmother knitting, baking, and drawing birds for the books she created. Her skills all seemed quite mundane, and his grandfather’s woodwork, while handsome and functional, certainly didn’t have any magic in it.

Maybe you should go looking for your father one day.

My mother never spoke of him. I wouldn’t know where to start.

Sardelle is good at research. She might have some ideas. To be honest, I wouldn’t know where to start, either. Not when we’ve believed for so long that—

“Trip?” Leftie called up from the log where he still lay on his back. “Whatcha doing?”

“Scouting. There’s a dragon coming.”

“What?” Leftie lurched upright, and Blazer’s eyes flew open.

“He’s about twenty miles away, and I’m not sure he’s coming to the islands. Or this island specifically. I’m hoping he’ll pass by and leave us alone.”

“Like we’ll get that lucky.” Blazer rolled off the log and to her feet.

Trip closed his eyes, trying to practice Jaxi’s exercise. Perhaps mage exercises were supposed to be done from the ground, but he had a vague notion that being up high might allow his mind to more easily unfurl.

Whatever puts your brain in the right state, Jaxi said. You might want to hurry. As that dragon draws closer, you’ll have more trouble sensing anything except his giant, invasive aura.

Closer? Are you sure he’s coming this way?

You tell me.

Right. Trip sighed, though this might not be the time for the exercise, not when he had to “hurry” and unfurl his flower.

He imagined his brain having petals that were peeling back. Blooming. Opening wide and poking its flowery center up into the air.

That lasted about ten seconds, and when massive enlightenment didn’t come, he imagined himself in a flier instead, sailing away from his position and looking down upon everything. Seeing what was beyond the trees, gazing upon a pebbly beach and a harbor and the airship anchored to an elevated dock. He envisioned the sea beyond it, and in the distance, a bronze dragon flapped its wings, flying with determination toward the island. No, toward the fortress.

A few deep slashes marked the dragon’s side. They had healed, but scales were damaged or missing in those spots. Perhaps scales never grew back.

With a jolt, Trip realized the dragon had been here before, had been the one injured when Neaminor attacked it with his dragon-slaying sword. And he’d had the help of his sorceress and her soulblade. They’d gone up in an airship above their island, the sorceress doing her best to protect the craft from the dragon while it veered close enough for the pirate to use the blade. The dragon, believing himself immune to all weapons in this world, had flown straight in to attack with fang and talon.

When the pirate king had gotten a chance, he’d leaped from the deck and onto the dragon’s back, cutting into his shield with the magic-loathing—and magic-destroying—sword. He’d plunged it deep, between scales and into flesh, causing tremendous pain such as the dragon had never known. The obnoxious human got in several more slashes to his sides and neck before the dragon managed to fling away his foe.

The human had tumbled into the water, and the dragon might have finished him off, but his body had hurt too badly after the assault. He’d flown away to recover, promising himself that he would return, promising he would take these little islands for his own. Bronze dragons couldn’t claim giant continents or great kingdoms, but some islands far out at sea? With a most agreeable climate? Yes, this would be his new home.

Uh, Trip? Jaxi asked, her voice sounding distant.

Trip blinked, and it was almost painful. He realized he’d been staring at the corrugated bark of the tree long enough for his eyes to dry out.

Were you reading that dragon’s mind? Jaxi asked.

No. I mean, I don’t know. It seemed doubtful, like he’d probably made all that up, but it had also felt like the sensing experience that Jaxi had described where he would be able to see things far away and from above. He remembered people walking on the platforms and rope bridges of the fortress and ships in the bay. And he definitely remembered the scars on the dragon’s bronze scales.

If you did, that’s not typical, Jaxi said. Dragons shield their thoughts, and I haven’t run into a person yet that could pierce those shields.

I probably didn’t either then. Trip figured it was more reasonable that he’d made up a story to match what he had seen. Sensed. But I do know one thing for certain. Based on his current course, the dragon is heading right to the fortress.

I believe Kaika and the others are still close enough that I can warn them. Shall I tell them to abort?

Would Kaika abort? Trip asked. Or would she think, “Dragon? An excellent distraction!”?

Possibly the latter.

Do warn them, please. But I think we better plan to be ready to fly in and retrieve them rather than assuming they’ll make it all the way back here. Trip, realizing he didn’t need to hang from branches any longer, made his way down the tree.

“Dragon status?” Blazer asked as his feet hit the ground.

“Judging by its current trajectory, it’s heading toward the fortress.”