05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory (31 page)

“No.”

Ridge sighed and lowered his hands. “Look, I’ll pay not to use the rocks.” He dug in his pocket with one hand and, holding his breath, stuck his other hand out and leaned against the door, flattening the patch tar to one of the hinges.

He had barely touched the metal when a shot rang out. He jumped and skittered backward. Belatedly, he realized it had been a warning shot, the bullet burrowing into the ground at his feet. Both muzzles were pointed at his chest now, so he didn’t try to approach the door again.

“Let’s kill him,” the heretofore silent one said. Ridge had liked it more when the man hadn’t been speaking.

“It’s gods-blighted Zirkander, you idiot. We can’t shoot him.”

“I can.” Silent grinned unwholesomely.

Ridge hadn’t managed to cover the hinge with as much of the patch tar as he had hoped to, but at least it was sticking. Hands spread, he stepped away from the building. “All right, I’ll go.”

The pair of muzzles followed him as he crossed the small lawn back to his flier. This time, he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t rushing. When he reached the craft, he couldn’t pull himself into the cockpit quickly enough. He fired it up, relieved when the propeller and both thrusters roared to life, the crystal glowing intensely from its casing as it poured magical power into both components of the craft. There wouldn’t have been room for a typical wheeled takeoff.

From the higher position, he knew all of his actions wouldn’t be visible to the men on the ground, so he slumped down slightly and peered up at the top of the lighthouse, toward the windows in the lantern room. He wasn’t truly expecting to see anyone, but his heart lurched up into his throat. The familiar broad features of King Angulus looked down at him through the glass. Angulus didn’t wave—it looked like his arms were pulled behind his back—but he was standing up and definitely alive.

A surge of certainty filled Ridge, the belief that his plan was right. He took off, staying low in the cockpit so the goons wouldn’t be able to target him easily. Unfortunately, the flier wasn’t impenetrable to bullets, so he could be shot through the lightweight hull, but this was a risk he had to take. Being in the air bolstered his confidence somewhat, as did the fact that he had machine guns, versus their pump-action rifles. They shouldn’t have more than ten shots each.

“Not that ten shots couldn’t kill a man,” Ridge muttered as he rose.

He soared toward the clouds, pretending he meant to fly off, that the guards would never see him again. He glanced back and spotted them lowering their rifles and walking toward the door. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out how to pry off the patch tar, so he had to discombobulate them before they did. Besides, they would have less cover out in the open.

Ridge banked, the sky tilting, then the ocean and the island filling his vision again. Even though he had shot countless enemies during his career, his heart hammered with dread and fear at the idea of shooting people on the ground, Iskandian people. But they had chosen their fate. He had to harden himself to that.

First, he rubbed his dragon figurine for luck. Then, like death itself, he swooped down, thumb on the trigger. The men realized what was happening immediately. One sprinted for the door, while the other dropped to one knee to shoot. Ridge slumped as low as he could while still being able to see his targets. He aimed for the shooter first, unleashing a round of ammunition.

A bullet slammed through his windshield, passing so close to his head that he nearly lost his cap. Hells, maybe these
were
some of Ahnsung’s people. He zigzagged in the sky, trying to make himself a more difficult target while he continued inexorably downward. He kept firing, twin streams of bullets hammering the ground as he sought the plane he needed, the angle that would allow him to hit the men. But they were sprinting around now, doing a good job of avoiding his run, and there was no way to pivot the guns without turning the craft.

Another bullet slammed into the hull under the cockpit. He had no idea if it made it through, but imagined it wedged into his seat cushion.

One of the men shouted. He was pulling at the door latch. Ridge allowed himself a grim smile. Maybe that would teach him the folly of denying a man use of the toilet.

The men stopped firing as his flier neared the ground. Ridge wobbled the wings, hoping they would think he had been shot and was out of control. Indeed, they must have believed the flier would crash right into them. They abandoned their rifles and raced for the rocks overlooking the churning water. He peppered the ground with bullets before pulling up at the last second, the grass stirring from the wind the flier created.

He rose quickly, gaining altitude, then turned so he could make another run. The men were scrambling down the rocks. One leaped into the water. Ridge angled downward again, speeding straight toward them. The second one shook his fist and yelled obscenities that Ridge could not hear over the wind blasting past his ears. Fists and obscenities were far less worrisome than bullets. Ridge fired again, his rounds slamming into the rocks all around the man. He leaped from his perch, splashing into the water. Both men disappeared under the surface.

Ridge swooped past the island again, giving the all-is-right hand signal to the lighthouse windows. This time he didn’t see the king. Was there someone else inside guarding him? Someone who had yanked him into some room after seeing his comrades assaulted? Ridge would have to prepare himself for another fight when he landed, but he made another pass before heading back to the lawn. He spotted the guards swimming toward the distant shore. Judging by the uneven strokes, neither was a natural, and one must have been hit, because he was paddling with one arm. Ridge couldn’t muster any sympathy for them, not when they had been holding the king hostage.

After making sure they were heading away from the island, he brought his flier down again. He hopped out before the propeller had stopped spinning and raced to the dropped rifles. He would go in armed this time.

With one of the rifles slung across his back and the other in his hands, ready to fire, he ran to the door. He was about to pull out his knife to pry free the patch tar when the door flew open so forcefully that it was like an elephant had kicked it.

Half expecting an army, Ridge aimed the rifle and wished he had some cover to hide behind. The grass swaying at his calves would not do much to stop bullets.

But only a single unarmed figure strode out of the lighthouse. Iron shackles hugged the king’s wrists, though the chain that should have bound them together had been broken, the ends dangling. His usually short and tidy hair had grown shaggy, and a few weeks’ worth of beard had sprouted on his usually clean-shaven jaw. Though unwashed, he did not appear gaunt or injured, aside from some bruises on the knuckles on his right hand.

“I’d hug you if you weren’t aiming a gun at my chest,” Angulus said.

Ridge hastily lowered the weapon and snapped up a salute. “It’s just as well, Sire. I think there may be a rule about soldiers hugging kings. Impropriety and all.”

“I think that’s only if the soldier is doing the hugging.”

“Oh? If I were a king, I wouldn’t mind hugs, especially from female soldiers.”

Had General Ort been there, he would have kicked Ridge under the table—or under the grass—and warned him not to be so familiar—or lippy—with their liege. But Angulus didn’t seem offended.

“I bet.” The king looked toward the waves breaking to the north. “That was a Cofah flier?”

He had seen the battle? Ridge held back a grimace. He would have preferred not to have witnesses for his nosedive into an explosion. “An unmanned one powered by dragon blood, yes, Sire. It had a camera.”

Angulus’s jaw clenched. He scanned the gray sky, as if more fliers might sail out of the clouds at any moment. “You came here alone?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Is the rest of your squadron defending the city? I assume there are more Cofah out there.”

“Ah, it’s not my squadron at the moment. Why don’t you climb in, Sire? I’ll tell you what’s been going on while we head back.”

Angulus sighed. “I’m not going to like this story, am I?”

“
I
didn’t when I got back from the Cofahre mission. Perhaps you’ll be a less discerning audience.”

“That the mission where you misplaced your commanding officer?”

Ridge had hoped the king might have forgotten that detail. “Uhm, yes, but there were extenuating circumstances.”

“Such as that you didn’t like Colonel Therrik?”

“Such as that Colonel Therrik is an ass.” Ridge almost felt guilty saying that when Therrik had been the one to let him out of jail. The ease with which he had escaped the base suggested that it hadn’t been a trap, as hard as that was to believe.

“But a loyal ass,” Angulus said.

“I’ve… come to realize that, Sire. Do you, ah, know who kidnapped you, by chance?”

The creases at the corners of Angulus’s eyes deepened. “My wife,” he said tightly. “She didn’t approve of the heinous outbreak of witches in the city. Her words.”

“Witches? Sardelle and… Tolemek?” Thanks to the conversation he had eavesdropped on before the Cofahre mission, Ridge knew the king was already aware of Sardelle, so he didn’t worry about mentioning her. He figured Angulus had put the pieces together on Tolemek too.

Angulus nodded. “Yes.”

“Tolemek may be even more offended than Sardelle at being called a witch. Witches are girls, aren’t they? I admit I’m still a neophyte when it comes to magic.”

Angulus slanted him a look the Ridge could not read. “My wife even suggested that
you
might be a witch.”

“I’ve been told I don’t have a drop of dragon blood in my veins. But either way, I’d prefer to be considered a wizard. Or a warlock. Something with manly connotations. Or male ones at least.”

Angulus sighed. “My willingness to use Tolemek may be what really riled the queen up, but your woman’s presence in the city got her antsy too. She’s always hated any hint of magic, any hint that it might come back into the world and be more prominent. As paradoxical as that was.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Ridge stopped below the cockpit, wondering if he should offer the king a boost up. Angulus was stocky, strong, and in his forties, so he ought to be able to handle climbing up, but it seemed like there might be some rule about making one’s king clamber into a flier on his own.

Angulus jumped, caught the lip of the passenger pit, and pulled himself up easily. The flier creaked as his weight settled into it. He was a big man and never would have made the qualifications to be a pilot. With their combined weight, it would be a slow trip back.

“It’s not widely known,” Angulus said, giving Ridge a long assessing look. Wondering if he could share some secret with a mouthy pilot?

Ridge could keep secrets, but he didn’t want to be seen as nosy or pry into something he shouldn’t know, so he pulled himself into the cockpit and belted himself in. He spotted the two guards sitting on a wet rock about a quarter mile from the island. It might have been his imagination, since it was hard to see details at that distance, but he thought one was pointing at a black triangular fin cutting through the water. He hoped so. Those two deserved sharks.

“Her mother was a witch,” Angulus said after such a long pause that Ridge had given up the conversation as finished.

“What?” He twisted in his seat.

“She thinks I don’t know. Her mother knew potions and had a few magical tricks, nothing like your Sardelle, I don’t think, but enough.”

“Sardelle is from another time,” Ridge said, though discussing her with the king made him uncomfortable. Even if he had originally mentioned her name, he still had a sense that he should do his best to keep people from knowing what she was. Still, if anyone could make it acceptable for her to stay in the city—to stay with
him
—Angulus would be the person.

“Yes, I read Captain Heriton’s report. Anyway, Nia’s mother used her skills to convince my first wife to commit suicide. You remember that?”

“I remember the suicide, Sire, that the papers said she walked off one of the castle towers and fell to her death. It was almost twenty-five years ago, wasn’t it?” Ridge had been fifteen then, and Angulus wouldn’t have been much older. Nineteen? Twenty? He had been prince at the time, his own father still alive and ruling; Ridge remembered that.

“She was
coerced
into walking off. I never believed she would have committed suicide, so I investigated it. I was so obsessed that my father got fed up with it and sent me off to serve in the army. I loved my first wife very much.” Angulus looked wistfully toward the sea, not searching for enemy fliers this time, Ridge sensed. “When I returned from five years of duty, my father had arranged a new marriage for me. He’d let me choose the first time—he always hated arranged marriages, since his own had been a shambles—but he was sick by then and wanted to make sure grandchildren were on the way to secure his legacy. Little did he know Nia would never have children.” Angulus shook his head.

“So, if the queen’s mother arranged your wife’s death, does that mean she had something to do with the new marriage?”

Angulus nodded. “Nia has never admitted to it, but I think her mother gave potions to my father and made him amenable to the idea. Nia’s mother was nothing if not ambitious, far more so than Nia was. She never actually
wanted
to marry me.” The king’s lips twisted, his eyes edged with bitterness. “She was seeing a young officer at the time and didn’t want to give him up. You’ve met him.”

Ridge could only lift his shoulders, not having the vaguest idea as to who he knew who might have attracted the queen’s eye more than twenty years earlier.

“Therrik,” Angulus said.

If Ridge hadn’t been strapped in, he would have fallen out of his seat. “What?
Why?
”

Angulus spread his palm toward the sky. “Who can understand the fancies of women?”

Ridge could only shake his head.

“I don’t think I was an… unreasonable husband, but we never loved each other, not the way my first wife and I did, and probably not the way she and her strapping young soldier did.”