5.5 - Under the Ice Blades (5 page)

He rubbed his face. What was he doing, worrying about something so petty? This was a mission to investigate murders and a breached top-secret facility. It wasn’t a
date
.

It also wasn’t fitting for him keep checking his watch and worrying that Kaika hadn’t arrived yet. What if his not-a-date-but-a-demolitions-expert didn’t show up? No, she would. Her record said she was dedicated and dependable, even if she shared some of Zirkander’s tendencies toward flair.

Zirkander pushed his goggles up onto his forehead and hopped down from his cockpit. Ort walked over to meet him—or perhaps to
inspect
him. He frowned and eyed the younger general up and down.

Ort pointed to a creased pocket flap on Zirkander’s flight jacket, then waved toward boots that were dull and smudged, especially when compared to Ort’s gleaming leather footwear. “Can’t you ever report to the king in a freshly pressed uniform? Did you walk through engine grease on purpose on the way out here?”

“Not on
purpose
, sir.”

They might hold the same rank now, but there was little doubt as to which was the senior officer. It would probably be a while before Zirkander stopped calling Ort “sir.” Still, he seemed to realize that he did not need to endure a dressing down anymore. When Ort pointed to some other deficiency on the uniform, Zirkander clapped him on the shoulder and ambled toward Angulus.

“Sire.” He saluted, as was the proper protocol for a soldier in uniform. An unfortunate protocol. Angulus wouldn’t have minded seeing Zirkander bend a knee. “Where’re we going so late at night and without the rest of the squadron?” He peeked under Angulus’s flier toward the third craft on the landing pad and nodded toward Colonel Troskar, whose face was dark with beard stubble and marked with a new gash on his forehead. He looked like he needed a bunk, rather than another flight.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” Angulus said, as a boy from the kitchens trotted past with bags of food and canteens of water for Zirkander’s flier. Angulus wouldn’t speak of their destination with so many ears around.

“Might make it hard for me to pilot us to the destination.”

“Just follow Ort.”

Zirkander scratched his jaw thoughtfully. His face was clean and his beard shaved, even if his uniform held a few imperfections. Reminded that he didn’t want Kaika to compare him unfavorably to the pilot, Angulus wondered if it was petty to wish Zirkander had shown up dirty, scruffy, and smelly. And with a black eye. No, a black eye would be bad. A woman would be sympathetic toward such a thing and ask how it had happened. Maybe
Angulus
should get a black eye.

“General Zirkander has difficulty following,” Ort said. “He likes to take the lead.”

“Tough,” Angulus said. He didn’t see if Ort or Zirkander had a response, because the person he’d been waiting for jogged into view, trotting ahead of the guard who was clearly supposed to be escorting her around the side of the castle and to the landing pad.

Captain Kaika carried a large backpack with a tight bedroll and the tip of a rifle just visible behind her head. The pouches on her utility belt were stuffed with ammunition and who knew what else, and she also carried a heavy duffle bag under one arm. She clanked as she jogged.

“Captain,” Zirkander drawled, “are we going to have a discussion about weight again?”

“You know it’s dangerous to bring up weight with a woman, General.” Kaika grinned at him, then saluted Angulus. “Sire.”

He smiled, though the gesture felt bleak. He wanted the grin, not the salute.

Kaika’s eyes were gleaming, and she looked like she was having a hard time putting that grin away. Excited by the mission, was she? He was glad he could offer it to her, but it made him feel guilty that he had given her a job staying in town and teaching. Sure, he’d had a legitimate reason, and what he told her was true, that they needed to train a new generation of pilots and increase the size and number of flier squadrons in the sky. But she was right in that many people were qualified to instruct those young officers. Angulus had wanted to have her stationed nearby, so he had time to get to know her, now that he finally could.

“Even when you’re talking about her bag full of junk?” Zirkander pointed to her duffle, which, judging by all the points and lumps thrusting against the canvas sides, was full of weapons and explosives.

“
Especially
when you’re talking about her junk.” Kaika’s grin broadened again, and she swatted herself on the butt.

“Captain
Kaika
,” Ort said sternly, jerking his head toward Angulus.

Angulus barely noticed the admonition. He was too busy blushing as a flood of images involving butts and swats rushed into his mind. Thank the gods for the darkness of the courtyard; he doubted the handful of lanterns positioned around the landing pad or the soft glow from the crystals in the dragon fliers would shine light on the redness of his cheeks.

“The king was married for a long time, sir,” Kaika said. “I’m sure he knows about junk.” She hefted her bag. “Where can I put this?”

Zirkander pointed at his flier and opened his mouth.

Angulus cut him off before he could speak. “In General Ort’s flier.”

Zirkander shrugged and added, “Only
half
of it. Otherwise his flier will be scraping its belly on every tree between here and wherever we’re going.”

“An officer needs to be prepared for any eventuality, sir.”

“You took down an entire Cofah secret laboratory with less than the enemy uniform on your back,” Zirkander said. “I’m sure you can leave a few tools behind.”

Ort’s bushy gray eyebrows were up. They had been since Angulus had informed Kaika that she would be flying with him.

“I’d like to have a chat with Zirkander on the way out,” Angulus said. “And someone in each of the fliers should know the way to the facility in case we’re separated for some reason.” Though he did not have to explain himself, he kept feeling compelled to, no doubt because he was thinking with his heart—or maybe a lower organ. People thinking with body parts other than their brain liked to make excuses to justify their foolishness.

Ort nodded. “Of course, Sire.”

“A chat with the king?” Zirkander murmured to Ort, his voice low enough that Angulus decided to pretend he hadn’t heard. “Will that be as fun for me as it sounds?”

Ort’s eyes gleamed. “I hope so.”

“General Braksonoth?” Kaika asked from a few feet away.

The general had finished giving his officer instructions and was heading to Troskar’s flier. Kaika saluted him, but judging by the cool way he responded with, “Captain Kaika,” Braksonoth wasn’t pleased to see her here.

Was it just because he thought a more senior officer should go? Or did he have an inkling of what had motivated Angulus to invite her? She
was
fully qualified for this. There was no reason to be huffy over the choice.

“You’re going on the mission too?” Kaika must have been aware of her C.O.’s record, but she seemed surprised to see him here. Maybe she had no idea that her bespectacled and usually mild-mannered general still did occasional fieldwork when his talents were needed.

“Yes. Stow your gear, Captain.” Braksonoth dismissed her and walked toward Angulus, who braced himself for a polite, respectful, and completely unmistakable lecture.

“Sire, it’s not too late. I urge you to change your mind and stay here where it’s safe. Let us handle this, and then we’ll report back as soon as possible. You can come out as soon as we’ve dealt with the threat.”

Braksonoth spoke quietly, without the earlier irritation, as if he were simply making a reasonable request to a comrade. And he was being reasonable. Angulus couldn’t help but feel like the unreasonable one here. He
should
stay behind, for his own safety and for the sake of the throne. The kingdom had already been disrupted once this spring. But Angulus wanted to be unreasonable for once in his adult life, to go out there and help, to show that he could. He had no intention of being a liability.

“General,” he said slowly.

“We were all extremely worried when you were kidnapped, Sire,” Braksonoth went on. “You know Tanders and I were stuck over in Moorage Baton and didn’t get back until the trail was cold, but don’t think I didn’t blame myself for losing you. My people—
I
—don’t want to risk losing you again.”

Angulus’s shoulders slumped. What could he say to that? More specifically, what could he say that didn’t involve being an ass? He almost relented, agreeing to stay home for the ease of his men, but he caught Kaika and Zirkander looking in his direction. Their faces held very similar expressions, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of adventure. Angulus should know better than to think of this mission as an adventure, especially when he knew the names of the families of the men who had died, but he couldn’t help thinking of it as a chance to escape, if only for a while. He wanted to flex his muscles and to show that he was more than a signature factory for the piles of papers that crossed his desk every day.

“You won’t lose me, General. You’ll be right there at my side.” As he clapped Braksonoth on the shoulder and headed for Zirkander’s flier, Angulus did his best not to worry about the troubled expression on his general’s face.

____________________

The wind whipped at Angulus’s face, making him wonder why he hadn’t remembered a scarf. He had flown often enough to know it was always colder in the sky than it was down below. At least Zirkander hadn’t flipped them upside down yet. He was being admirably sedate as he flew behind and to the left of the lead aircraft. Ort had taken point, while Troskar and Braksonoth cruised off his other wing.

Shortly after takeoff, it had occurred to Angulus that he should have chosen to fly with Colonel Troskar. Braksonoth’s second-hand report of the events in the research facility had been brief, and it would have been wise for Angulus to know about what awaited them. Instead, he had Zirkander to talk to, someone who knew even less than Angulus did. Thus far, neither of them had spoken a word, not that chatting was easy with the wind whipping past or the propeller buzzing the air. Still, Zirkander hadn’t so much as glanced back. His hands remained on the flight stick, his eyes toward the sky ahead. Maybe Angulus’s presence made him nervous, as hard to imagine as that was. The man never seemed nervous about anything.

“Zirkander,” Angulus said, leaning forward to be heard. He had to come up with
something
to say, or the general would think it odd that they were flying together. “We’re heading to a top-secret facility, one I wish to
remain
top secret. Ort and Troskar have been there before, but they’re the only active-duty pilots who have. I’m trusting you to keep this secret.”

For a long moment, Zirkander did not answer. He’d glanced back when Angulus had first said his name, so he must have heard. True, Angulus hadn’t asked a question, but he did expect an acknowledgment.

“Sire,” Zirkander finally said, peering over his shoulder. “I wish you’d asked me before assuming... Well, I mean, I
can’t
keep this a secret from Sardelle.”

Angulus tried to squash a flare of irritation. Was Zirkander truly saying he couldn’t keep any secrets from his girlfriend? “Why not?”

The words may have come out harsher than he had intended, because Zirkander’s shoulders bunched up. Hells, maybe he
was
nervous about being out here with his king, and despite his flippant attitude, maybe he cared about not annoying Angulus.

“I figured you knew, Sire,” he said, sounding like he was choosing his words carefully. “Though I suppose we haven’t had a frank discussion with you. But you seem to have a lot of intelligence on sorcerers and magic.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sardelle is telepathic, Sire. And, ah, so is her sword. So there will automatically be two people who know about it besides me—if you can call Jaxi a people, which I believe is what she prefers.”

Now Angulus was the one who couldn’t respond. Did Zirkander just call the sword a person? A
telepathic
person? Angulus had read a few old texts about magic and sorcerers, and he did recall telepathy being covered, but it hadn’t occurred to him that Sardelle—and her
sword
—would have this ability.

“You, uhm, knew about Jaxi, right, Sire?” Zirkander asked.

“Just that it’s the sword.”

“It’s a she. If you ever talk with her, she’ll be quick to let you know.”

“Talk with her?” Angulus had a hard time wrapping his head around the idea of a sentient sword. A female sentient sword. “In your head?”

“She’ll be in
your
head. If you’re a mere mortal without dragon blood, there’s no way to learn telepathy, but those who have the skill can monitor our thoughts and have a conversation with us. If you’re open to that, that is. My understanding is that they don’t poke their noses into people’s minds as a rule. Unless it’s an emergency, such as when a Cofah soldier is thinking of shooting them.”

Angulus stared over the side of the flier, watching the dark fields pass below as he considered this new information. The idea of someone sifting through his thoughts without him knowing it—or even
with
him knowing it—was disconcerting. And a threat to national security.

“Does this mean Sardelle knows where you’re going right now?” Angulus wondered if she might already be aware of the secret facility. What if he had been thinking about it when she had been nearby? They hadn’t shared space that often—she had politely declined his offer of a room in the castle, choosing to stay somewhere outside of the city—but did that mean anything? A few weeks earlier, they had been sitting close to each other at that celebratory dinner he had hosted for the pilots who had fought back the Cofah sky fortress.

“Sire,
I
don’t even know where we’re going.”

“So, you’re not communicating with her now?”

“We’re outside of her range. She usually has to be close, within a mile or so to reach me. Jaxi’s reach is farther, but I think we’re outside of her range now too.” Zirkander waved toward the dark Ice Blades looming on the horizon, the jagged peaks like a row of fangs thrusting into the starry sky. “But when we get back...” He shrugged. “I can try not to think about it, but I don’t have a lot of secrets from Sardelle. Or Jaxi.”