Dragon Storm (Heritage of Power Book 1)
Dragon Storm: Chapter 15

“Are they the odd duo, or are we?” Leftie asked, watching Duck and Dreyak head down the docks to replace a place to cut through the city and into the wilderness.

Trip looked at his friend’s pink shirt. It was more of a blouse with poofy sleeves that billowed when the breeze kicked up. “I think we’d have to put that to a vote. Let the squadron decide.”

“I’m not sure that vote would come down in our favor.”

“Perhaps not.”

Trip sat on the railing of their purloined airship, keeping an eye out in case trouble headed their way. On an island chain run by pirates, it seemed inevitable.

“If I take the shirt off, I’m back to normal,” Leftie said. “If you take your shirt off, you’re still talking to a sword.”

“We’re not talking currently. And you’re not normal, shirted or shirtless.”

“As if you’d know.”

“Like recognizes like.”

Leftie grunted and swung himself up onto the railing, dangling his legs over the side. Trip watched him warily, hoping he wouldn’t take this private moment to point out how much oddness truly had been revolving around Trip in the last week.

Had Leftie had time to wonder how the squadron had truly taken down that dragon? Trip still wasn’t sure he believed he’d done something, but he also didn’t have another explanation for it.

“I feel it’s a little unmanly to be sitting here, polishing the railing with our butts, while the women go out among the pirates,” Leftie said.

“Then I guess you don’t want to hear my suggestion that we wash the windows on the wheelhouse and tidy up all the wood chips stuck between the deck boards after our carpentry projects.”

“Wash? Tidy? Trip, we became officers so we wouldn’t have to do those things.”

“True, but we’re the lowest-ranking officers along, and there are no privates to foist the menial tasks onto.”

“Damn, you’re right. No, wait. Ravenwood is only a few months out of the academy. That means I have seniority on her. We can make her clean. Preferably while wearing her pirate costume.” Leftie grinned at him.

Trip didn’t grin back. He didn’t want to say anything disrespectful and didn’t want Leftie to say anything disrespectful. Even more, he didn’t want Leftie fantasizing about her.

Leftie grunted in disgust when he didn’t respond to the joke. “You’re too serious, Trip.”

“They’re our fellow officers. I don’t think you should say anything about them that you wouldn’t say about General Zirkander. Or Duck.”

“I doubt anybody wants to see Duck cleaning while in a pirate costume. Zirkander, I don’t know. My mom has a newspaper article about him on the ice box. A close-up of his face.”

Trip felt a familiar twinge of envy, the one that came up whenever other people talked about their parents. He was glad he had Grandma and Grandpa, and was grateful they had been there to raise him, but he still missed his mother. More, there were so many questions he wished he’d had a chance to ask her. To start with, who was his father? Someone she had known well and loved? A random fling in a port city? Was he still alive? Could Trip replace him someday? Would his father know all about magic, and would he have any interest in teaching Trip? Or an interest in him in general? Did he even know Trip existed, or had his mother gone back to Iskandia without ever telling him she was pregnant?

“That looks like trouble.” Leftie jerked a thumb toward the dock.

Four burly thugs in dark clothing were heading their way, all bearing rifles as well as pistols and cutlasses at their waists.

“Is there such a thing as a police force here?” Leftie added.

Those are the toll collectors, Jaxi told Trip.

The soulblade dangled from his waist in its scabbard. Ever since going to that bar without Jaxi, he’d been loath to lean the sword out of the way somewhere. He wondered if Sardelle took it with her to bed.

Ridge would object to that. My scabbard goes on a stand by the front door of the house. I’m like a guard dog, ready to bite any intruders that try to break in. Except I’d be far more likely to fry their balls off than bite anything.

What if the intruders are women?

Women have parts that can be fried too.

“It sounds like they’re coming to collect a docking fee,” Trip said, deciding not to share any of the other dubious information Jaxi was sharing.

“Sounds like?” Leftie’s lips twisted as he looked at the soulblade.

“Maybe I can start asking her to direct her messages to you so you won’t feel left out.”

“No, thanks. That’s super creepy. All this magic stuff is. I can’t believe you’re so blasé about it.”

“So far, having Jaxi along has been an advantage,” Trip said, shifting to his feet since the “toll collectors” were definitely heading to their ship. “I have no problem with magic that’s on our side.”

“And what happens when you encounter some that isn’t? There’s a reason normal people rose up and started killing witches hundreds of years ago. They thought they were better than everyone else and wanted to enslave us, the same way the dragons want to today.”

“I doubt that’s true.”

“It’s in the history books, Trip. Didn’t you ever pick up anything except technical manuals at the university?”

“Not if I could help it.”

There were some rogue sorcerers a few hundred years ago that unfortunately made things difficult for the rest of the Referatu, Jaxi said as Trip walked to the gangplank. Most of us were loyal subjects who wanted to serve the king and our country. Sardelle used to go out with the army and navy, healing soldiers.

I believe you.

Perhaps you could convince your buddy.

I don’t want to talk about it with him. I’m afraid I’d lose a friend if he knew that I have… a sixth sense.

You could have a lot more than that if you wanted, Jaxi said. And he can’t be much of a friend if you would lose him over that.

He’s watched out for me a lot of times. He’s a good friend. Just superstitious. Trip occasionally wondered if something had happened to Leftie to make him so, or if it was just due to his upbringing.

“How much is the docking fee?” Trip asked as the men turned up their gangplank. He walked down it, hoping to deter them from coming aboard. The tarps covering the gleaming Iskandian fliers couldn’t hide their suspicious size or lumpiness. Trip couldn’t think of anything else that large that he could claim was under them.

“Fifty Cofah karvots,” one said, propping a meaty fist on his hip. “For most ships. But you didn’t come to the office and fill out a deposit envelope with your money as soon as you landed, so there’s a late fee. Now it’s two hundred karvots.”

“That’s quite a late fee,” Trip choked out, trying to guess what the exchange rate was between karvots and Iskandian nucros. “I have a hard time believing your typical clientele trots up to an office with a fist full of karvots for a deposit box.”

“Believe what you want while you hand over the money.”

“We’ve been pillaging in Iskandia of late. What’s the fee in nucros?”

“Iskandian money.” The man sneered and looked at his comrades.

It was somewhat deflating to realize that his country’s money wasn’t as greatly desired as the empire’s, even though these islands were much closer to Iskandia.

“Five hundred nucros, then.”

Floored, Trip looked at Leftie. That couldn’t possibly be the going rate. They could have fed and housed a whole flier squadron for a month on that. He didn’t believe anyone else was paying that much. Maybe he and Leftie looked young, so these thugs meant to swindle them.

Leftie only shrugged back, as if to say, “You’re the one who got promoted, so you’re in charge.”

“We’re only staying for a day,” Trip told the men, who had sauntered farther up the gangplank. The leader was eyeing the soulblade scabbard. “I’ll get you a hundred nucros.”

“Not enough, runt.” The leader pointed at the sword. “We’ll take that blade as payment for your fee.”

An indignant surge of emotion came from Jaxi. Trip hadn’t realized she could project feelings as well as words, but he agreed with the sentiment.

“The sword’s not for sale,” he said.

“Then you better cough up my five hundred, or we’re coming aboard to look for it ourselves.”

“Maybe we can just leave,” Leftie offered, sidling closer, his hand resting on his pistol. “Figure out a way to pick up the others later.”

“You’ve already been using that docking space for hours,” the thug said. “You don’t get to leave without paying. Five hundred.”

“Just take the sword,” one in the back said, slapping his rifle in his palm.

Jaxi? Trip thought. How would Sardelle deal with this?

She likes to give men like these genital rashes.

Uh, what? That was so far from the answer Trip had expected that it stunned him. He wasn’t ready when the men charged.

Fortunately, Jaxi was. An invisible barrier flared to life around him, and the lead thugs bounced back.

I must warn you, Jaxi told him, that my methods of dealing with people are less subtle.

That’s all right. Trip drew the soulblade and looked sternly at the startled men. Pilots aren’t subtle people.

Oh, I know that, but I mean that a trained sorcerer might sense me using my magic. I do tend to be spectacular and noticeable, even when I’m not trying.

The men murmured to each other on the gangplank, eyeing Trip and eyeing the spectacular soulblade. Jaxi wasn’t glowing or throbbing or doing anything obviously magical yet, but if they were familiar with sorceresses and magical swords, maybe they had their suspicions about the origins of that barrier.

“Go get a hundred nucros, Leftie,” Trip said. “We’ll give it to them and fly away as soon as our people return. Sound reasonable, gentlemen?”

He lifted the soulblade, and this time, Jaxi flared with a bright golden light, as if to remove all doubt from the men’s minds that she was magical.

A little dramatic flair doesn’t hurt when you’re trying to intimidate people, Jaxi said.

One of the men in the back waved vigorously toward an office on the waterfront. Trip hoped that wasn’t the signal for reinforcements.

“Just get him,” the other man in back said, nudging the two in front of him.

“He’s got a sword.”

“We’ve got guns.”

“They don’t glow.”

“Shit, we’ll get you some special paint if you need that.” The man nudged his comrade again.

Trip didn’t think any of them would have come forward, but the door to that office flew open, and unexpected objects flew out. The sun glinted off their metallic surfaces.

At first, Trip thought them some kind of miniature fliers, but they had butterfly-like wings instead of horizontal bi-wings.

They’re a mix of magical and mechanical constructs, Jaxi said.

Oh? Trip couldn’t help but look toward them. Is that a thing you can do? Mixing the magical with the mechanical to invent new things? And if so, where did he replace a course where he could study that?

Maybe, instead of speculating on education opportunities, you should worry about the fact that they’re coming this way. And they have guns.

Uh. Trip looked in the direction Leftie had gone, wanting to warn him, since he didn’t know if Jaxi could protect him from a distance, but he’d disappeared belowdecks. I don’t suppose you can tell him to stay down there, Jaxi?

I don’t think he would be amenable to hearing my words in his mind. You could tell him quite easily.

I don’t know how.

You really should have come to the capital several months before this mission so Sardelle could have begun your training.

Nobody sent me orders calling me over there until this week. Trip kept an eye on the men on the gangplank, but also on what had turned out to be six contraptions, all flying over the lagoon and angling toward his ship. Toward him.

The military is so shortsighted, Jaxi said.

Trip glimpsed Kaika, Blazer, and Rysha walking on the waterfront street, perhaps a quarter of a mile away, and wiped his brow in relief. As a captain, he ought to be able to handle toll-collecting pirates on his own, but he would be glad to foist the problem off on a superior officer.

But the men didn’t give him time. Bolstered by the contraptions’ approach, they lifted their rifles and pistols, aiming at Trip.

He crouched to spring away, but Jaxi ordered, Stay. I’ll protect you. And you don’t want them coming aboard, remember?

She sent more than words into his mind—a hint of power accompanied them, and he wasn’t sure he could have jumped away if he’d wanted to.

Guns cracked, and bullets fired, but true to Jaxi’s word, they bounced off the invisible barrier a few feet in front of him. Just as had happened in the forest.

The men tried to rush him on the heels of their bullets. They had no more luck getting past Jaxi’s barrier than the bullets had.

Can I attack them while you’re doing that? Trip asked silently as the flock of flying contraptions sailed out over the lagoon and toward their ship.

Would they shoot at him? Or try to get to Leftie?

You could do all manner of mental attacks, but you can’t shoot through my barrier. The bullets would bounce back at you.

I don’t know how to do mental attacks.

Did I say you should have come to the capital months ago? I meant years ago.

Shots came from behind Trip, and he jumped. Leftie was charging across the deck, firing past Trip and at the men firing at him. A couple of his bullets glanced off the edge of Jaxi’s bubble, but others made it past.

One thudded into a toll collector’s shoulder. He clutched at the wound and stumbled back, losing his footing and pitching off the gangplank. The other three dropped to a knee, shifting their aim to Leftie.

“Get back!” Trip yelled at him. “Enemies incoming on multiple fronts.”

He flung an arm to indicate the contraptions zipping toward them. Bronze and copper with small flywheels in addition to their wings, they looked like something from a toymaker’s shop, but Trip could now see twin gun barrels thrusting out to either side of the gleaming metal noses. He could also sense the magic Jaxi had spoken of, and he was certain they were capable of firing of their own accord.

Instead of getting back, Leftie threw himself into a roll as the men fired at him. He ran toward one of the tarp-covered fliers.

Trip groaned—he didn’t want Leftie shot up, but he didn’t want their fliers shot up, either.

With few other options, Trip surged down the gangplank. He had to put a stop to this.

Let me attack, Jaxi, he ordered, knowing he took the risk of being shot as he did so.

I’ll handle them. Jaxi heated in his grip, and a ball of fire appeared in the air, forcing Trip to halt. You handle the metal gizmos. You’re the mechanic.

I’m an engineer, thank you.

You build tables; don’t glorify yourself.

I also fixed all the broken equipment in the airship.

Which you may be required to do again soon.

The ball of fire grew, blocking Trip’s view of the men and threatening to singe off his eyebrows. But he heard and sensed them flinging themselves off the gangplank and into the water below.

It was only a short reprieve. The contraptions continued without anyone’s guidance. They’d reached the ship, and they strafed the deck the same way Trip strafed pirate airships. Bullets slammed into the wood boards, and two of the machines angled toward Leftie’s hiding spot.

Leftie leaned out and fired at one. His bullet struck it but clanged off without doing noticeable damage. The machine arrowed straight toward him.

Trip sprinted to intercept it, hoping the men who’d jumped off the gangplank wouldn’t swim back to shore and race out again.

They probably will, Jaxi said. They have reinforcements coming. I’m going to try to deter them and make sure Kaika and the others can get through the growing crowd.

“I had no idea avoiding docking fees was such a crime,” Trip growled, running and jumping to reach the construct angling for Leftie’s hiding spot.

He slammed the soulblade into it before it could reach Leftie. Jaxi was still flaring gold. He had no idea if that added magic to her blade, but was relieved when it cut into the flying gizmo. His strong blow cut it in half, and the pieces crumpled to the deck.

Unfortunately, the five others turned their focus on Trip. They clinked and clanked as their parts whirred, and those barrels rotated unerringly toward his chest.

Despite Jaxi telling him he had to handle them while she handled the reinforcements, he could feel her power flowing into his limbs, guiding him with moves that should have been impossible for a sword-fighting neophyte. Or any mundane human being.

Somehow, he sensed the bullets’ trajectories—they seemed to slow down so he could see them—and he whipped the blade in front of him as he ran, deflecting them. A couple of times, Jaxi cleaved bullets in half, the remains clinking to the deck.

He advanced as he defended and sprang for another contraption.

This one saw him coming and whipped to the side, as if it were a sentient animal rather than a machine. But with Jaxi guiding his arms, he reacted instantly, the soulblade darting to follow it. He clipped it, slicing off part of a wing. It wobbled, still trying to target and shoot him as it lost altitude. Like a logger, he brought Jaxi down to cleave it in half.

But its bullet fired, and from that close, he didn’t have time to dodge or deflect it. It sliced through his side, burning like fire. He gasped, almost dropping Jaxi.

Don’t you dare. A sorcerer is supposed to die with his soulblade in hand.

Shouts came from the waterfront, along with the firing of more guns. Trip worried that the women would need help, but with four more contraptions harrying him, he couldn’t look in their direction.

The machines surrounded him, not worrying if they hit each other with their bullets, not when those bullets simply clanged off their metal hides.

Again letting Jaxi guide him, Trip whirled and blocked, his arms and legs whipping about with impossible speed as he deflected their relentless attacks. He tried to back away from the clump so they would all be in front of him, so he wasn’t too busy deflecting bullets from all sides to attack. But the damn metallic creatures moved with him, cutting him off.

Leftie yelled curses from the side and fired at one of them, but his bullets also clanged uselessly off. Trip lunged and slashed at one as it whirred backward. He sliced the muzzle off one of its guns. Unfortunately, that didn’t affect its flight—or stop it from firing.

While he was distracted with his attack, one fired at him from behind. Sensing it, he sprang to the side, but the bullet grazed his arm.

Trip gritted his teeth at the pain, abruptly realizing he could die from these awful devices. He whipped Jaxi about, deflecting more bullets, but his breath was growing labored from the demanding moves, and he worried he couldn’t keep it up much longer.

Frustration built within him as he once again failed in a sword attack. He roared, imagining Jaxi summoning some power to incinerate them, and flung out his hand as if he could will it to happen.

To his surprise, a huge wall of flame rose all around him. Heat poured off it, but Jaxi flared, creating a barrier again to protect him.

Leftie yelled and cursed, his voice sounding closer than Trip had expected.

With a lurch of fear, Trip yelled, “Jaxi, make it stop. Please.”

The flames disappeared. Leftie lay on his back a few meters away, his rifle on the deck next to him, one arm raised to protect his face. His eyes bulged round, filled with terror. But he did not appear to be injured. He must have been running closer to the fray when the fire appeared. Maybe he’d thought to club the damn contraptions.

Trip lowered the soulblade and looked around, wondering where they had all gone.

Look down, hero.

Four molten lumps smoked on the charred deck around Trip.

You’re amazing, Jaxi. They weren’t quite incinerated, but this would do just fine.

I am amazing, but I didn’t do that. You did. I was busy helping Kaika and the others get past all the pirates impeding them.

I… did? That’s not possible.

Those four molten lumps suggest otherwise.

Trip let the soulblade droop. She couldn’t be serious. How could he have created fire with his mind?

The notion stunned him, but he also felt strange. Tingly all over, as if power ran through his veins right now.

Footsteps pounded on the gangplank, and Trip turned, lifting the soulblade once more. His breathing was heavy, but he would attack again if he needed to.

But these weren’t enemies running onto the ship. The three women, with Rysha in the lead, raced off the gangplank. Their eyes met, hers wide with an expression he couldn’t read. Surprise? Horror? Awe? How much had she seen?

A part of him was already groping for an excuse, a story to explain how Jaxi had been responsible for all that, but another part of him lifted his chin and thought that he’d like it if she knew he was a strong warrior, even without Jaxi guiding him.

Please, if not for me, you’d have more holes in you than bubble cheese.

You can’t give me a couple of minutes of self-absorbed delusion before smothering me with reality?

I wouldn’t want you to become overly full of yourself. Nothing good comes from sorcerers turning into arrogant asses.

Sorcerer, that was an overstatement. It’s good that you’re along to keep me grounded.

Indeed so. Also, those bullet wounds you suffered may help with that.

Trip touched his side as the women approached. He’d almost forgotten about them, but as he brushed the gouge down there, pain flared anew. Blood dripped from his fingers.

“Trip,” Rysha said. “You’re hurt. Let’s get—

“The hells out of here,” Blazer growled, racing to the wheelhouse. “Leftie, Trip, cut the ropes. You can nurse your owies later. We’ve got more trouble coming.”

“Owies, Major?” Leftie rolled to his feet, stiffly but with determination. “Could we call them something more manly, please?”

Blazer slammed open the wheelhouse door and charged in without answering.

Another gun fired. Kaika’s. She knelt behind the railing at the top of the gangplank, shooting at men who were crouching behind pilings and crates on the dock, shooting right back.

A bullet whizzed past Trip’s head.

Ducking low, he ran to the ropes securing them to the dock. His side burned, as did the fresh gouge in his forearm, but he kept Jaxi in hand as he raced to cut them. Because she was useful in that chore and also because she’d forbade him to drop her.

Glad you were listening, she told him. Oh, how tedious.

What? Trip hacked at one of the thick docking ropes, not wanting to jump down where he would be more visible—and an easier target—to untie it.

There are cannons on the waterfront, and someone is preparing them.

All this because we didn’t pay a toll? Trip ran toward Leftie to help him. He was also cutting away a rope, but using a simple knife instead of a soulblade, and it wasn’t going quickly.

I believe the fireballs may have increased their ire toward us. Sorcerers aren’t loved in most of the world, you know.

Tell me about it. Trip was surprised the pirates allowed one on their island at all, even one who protected them.

“One more rope,” Leftie said, running across the deck with his head low.

Trip followed him as Kaika continued to fire from the gangplank. The engines thrummed below the deck, and gas hissed into the envelope above their heads.

“How did things devolve so quickly after I went belowdecks to get money?” Leftie started to hack at the rope, realized Jaxi could slice through it in a second, and let Trip handle it.

“I’m not sure. I think the situation started out devolved.”

“I guess it’s a good thing your new sword friend makes infernos.” Leftie’s lips twisted. “Though a little warning would have been nice. I almost got my front half incinerated. I’m real partial to some of the parts on my front half.”

“I suppose you’d have trouble charming the ladies with just the back half.”

“It would certainly be more of a challenge. Though I have been told I have a nice ass. Nice to look at. Nice to squeeze.”

Maybe I should smother his self-absorbed delusions too, Jaxi told Trip.

You don’t agree about the niceness of his backside?

I’m certainly not tempted to squeeze it.

He patted the flat of the soulblade. How would that work if you were?

Don’t underestimate the power of magic.

Not just for creating infernos, eh?

Not in the least. Though fire is my specialty. I approve of your methods back there, even if you scorched the deck and almost set the balloon on fire.

With the ropes cut, the airship lifted free from the dock. Bullets continued to fire, but Trip flopped down on the deck, his back to the railing, and felt some relief. Until a thunderous boom came from the waterfront.

The cannons Jaxi had mentioned?

Something slammed into the envelope at the rear of the ship, and Trip jumped to his feet again.

“What now?” Leftie groaned.

Actually, those aren’t quite cannonballs. One moment. The soulblade’s hilt grew warm again.

As more booms came from the waterfront, Trip ran toward the opposite side so he could see the threat. He was in time to see three fiery projectiles speeding toward the airship, toward the envelope.

“Damn it,” Kaika growled, shooting toward the waterfront. “I should have brought a sniper rifle. There’s not enough range or accuracy with this old girl.”

One of the blazing cannonballs, or whatever they were, blew up before reaching the envelope. The second two struck an invisible barrier. Jaxi’s work, Trip presumed.

You presume correctly, but it’s difficult to create one large enough to protect the entire airship. I— Three more blazing cannonballs fired, and she fell silent. Busy concentrating?

Once again, one was destroyed in the air halfway to them. Another bounced off her barrier, but the third sailed through the envelope at the far front. Jaxi cursed.

Trip thought the airship would make it out of the lagoon—he’d seen balloons perforated by far more than a few cannonballs continue to hold enough gas to fly for hundreds of miles—but that projectile had left flames behind after sailing through. Flames that were spreading quickly. Were those cannonballs coated in pitch or something else that was highly flammable?

He realized that the first cannonball had gotten through, too, before Jaxi had started defending against them. Flames burned heartily around that hole in the front, creeping up the side of the balloon.

“Someone’s going to have to put those fires out,” Blazer yelled, leaning out of the wheelhouse.

Trip would climb up there with wet blankets if he had to, but he questioned Jaxi first, on the chance she could simply magic them out. Can you do anything?

An explosion came from the waterfront, far noisier than the booms from cannons firing. Trip peered over the railing in time to see flames leaping from the spot where one of the cannons was—had been.

Trust me, Jaxi said. I am doing things.

Another cannon blew up.

So I see.

Trip spotted Rysha climbing a ladder attached to one of the ship’s support posts, and he raced over. If she could reach the fire, he could get a hose and feed it up to her. He had made sure the ship’s water tanks were full before they’d left the fjords.

But she paused at the top of the ladder. “I can just see smoke from here. The fire’s on the top half. I don’t think there’s any way to reach it unless someone can climb up the balloon’s framework.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Leftie yelled from the other side of the deck where he was tearing the tarps off the fliers. “We get some buckets and fly up there to dump them.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Trip said, sensing how far the flames had spread by now, as if the massive black plumes of smoke flowing from the envelope wouldn’t have told him.

“We’re losing altitude,” Blazer yelled.

A final explosion sounded, the last of the cannons on the waterfront blowing up. Trip was glad Jaxi enjoyed blowing things up and was good at it, but he feared it had happened too late to help them.