“We sure going in is the best idea?” someone asked.
“No,” Zirkander said, “but we can’t blow bullets through the windows of one of our own buildings. If you can force them to come out, we’ll happily shoot at them from the air.”
“Are the pilots going in, too, sir?” someone else asked—Trip recognized Captain Pimples’ voice. “Or just the sword-slinging combat studs? My flier’s machine guns got all the good ammo. My pistol doesn’t have any dragon-slaying bullets.”
“Don’t worry, Pimples,” Zirkander said. “Nobody’s making you lead the charge.”
“That’s our job,” someone else growled, his voice not coming through as clearly since he was in a back seat.
Trip was fairly certain it was Therrik. After their brief meeting in the solarium, Trip wasn’t that eager to go into battle with him, but he didn’t think he would get a choice. Pimples might be permitted to stay outside in his flier, but as a sorcerer and soulblade-wielder, Trip would be expected to help infiltrate the dragon-filled building.
“Major Kaika wishes me to inform you all,” Captain Duck drawled, as Trip’s wheels touched down on the rooftop, “that she is indeed a sword-slinging combat expert but that she is not a stud. And I bet Angulus is right happy about that. Ow.”
Trip snorted. He didn’t have to see Kaika smack Duck on the back of the head to know she had.
Colonel Grady unbuckled his harness and jumped onto the rooftop as soon as Trip powered down the thrusters. Captain Ahn, who’d been flying Therrik, and Duck, who had Kaika, also landed on the rooftop.
“You want any more of us with you, Trip?” Zirkander asked.
“No, sir.” While Trip wouldn’t have minded as much help as he could get entering a building with three dragons waiting inside—three dragons up to something shifty—he agreed that the other pilots would be like Pimples, armed with modest personal weapons and not trained to fight dragons from anywhere but their cockpits. “But maybe there should be another pilot down here to keep an eye on the fliers while we go in.”
“Will do. Sending Leftie down.”
“What’re you asking him for, Zirkander?” Therrik growled, leaning over Ahn’s shoulder to speak into the crystal.
She narrowed her eyes at his hulking form, but as a captain, she couldn’t object to a colonel looming over her.
“I’m the ranking officer on this incursion team,” Therrik added.
“Lucky for the incursion team, and that’s General Zirkander.” Judging by Zirkander’s tone, he’d corrected Therrik on the title numerous times over the years. “A rank you’ll possibly be given one day if you become more personable and easy to work with.”
“You were only given that rank because the king likes the way you twirl around dragons in the sky.”
“We’ve had this discussion before. I twirl around the dragons and shoot them. Trip, I know you can speak telepathically with all of us, but take one of the communication crystals with you and keep in touch that way.”
“Zirkander,” Therrik growled. Intending to object that Trip was getting special orders again?
Trip silently obeyed the order, twisting the crystal to extract it from the dashboard.
“You’re the commander, Therrik,” Zirkander said, “but Trip is the dragon expert. Pay attention to him, so I don’t have to tell Lilah a dragon ate you.”
Trip expected another surly objection from Therrik and was careful to jump down several paces away from his flier. Duck and Kaika were already on the rooftop. But Therrik only grimaced and said, “I’m not getting eaten.”
“I should hope not,” Kaika said, her sword already drawn and ready. “You’ve got to be tougher and stringier than year-old dried meat left to harden in the sun.”
Therrik hopped down to the rooftop and glared at her, but then his focus shifted to Trip. He drew his chapaharii blade, the original one, Kasandral. It flared a sickly green, and Trip grimaced, realizing he was going on a strike team with three people with swords that wanted to kill him. That might have been somewhat acceptable if Rysha had been one of those people, but she was two miles away, already engaged in her own battle.
Trip gazed toward the southern end of the city where the dragons fought over the breaking waves. He couldn’t see Rysha, but he could sense her, sense the dragons twisting and writhing in the sky, clawing at each other and throwing power and fire. Shulina Arya was battling the gold while Bhrava Saruth stalked the silver. She tried to come in and turn, giving Rysha opportunities to strike with her chapaharii blade.
“You ready, Dragon Boy?” Therrik pointed his sword at Trip, and it flared a more intense green. He frowned at it, muttered something under his breath—the control words?—and jerked it toward a door. The only door on the rooftop. It led into a stairwell offering access down into the building. “That our best option?”
Telryn, Azarwrath said. Do not allow this man to speak to you in an insulting manner.
He’s my superior officer. That means he can insult me whenever he wants. “They’ll know we’re coming, sir,” Trip said aloud. “May as well be direct.”
This is not how mages were treated in the Cofah army in my time. No matter what their rank, they were respected by mundane officers. Only a mage more powerful than you and higher ranking than you would have the right to treat you poorly, but quality officers did not lower themselves by doing so.
I’ll be sure to mention that at the next meeting with the king that I’m invited to.
Do so. It’s clear this man has no idea that you could fry the hair off his balls or stop his heart with your mind if you wished.
I’m not sure which of those notions is more horrifying.
“I’d rather have a plan about how we’re not going to be direct,” Therrik said. “Can’t you wriggle your fingers and make it so they don’t see us?”
“Not with dragons. I can make it so the humans inside don’t see us, if you think that would help.”
“You’re not going to be as mouthy as Zirkander, are you?” Therrik squinted at him. “You remind me of him.”
“I… don’t think so.” Normally, Trip would be delighted to be compared to the general, but it clearly wasn’t a compliment coming from Therrik.
“I suggest we go, sir.” Captain Ahn wore a Mark 500 sniper rifle on a strap—the weapon was almost as tall as she was—and cradled it in her arms. “Time may be of the essence.”
“It always is,” Duck said.
“I’ll lead,” Therrik said. “Ahn, you and your rifle take up the rear. Keep your buddy back there with you and out of trouble. Seven gods, pilot, is that little pellet gun all you brought?”
“It’s a standard issue AB-7, sir,” Duck said.
“Dragons aren’t standard issue. Ahn, keep him alive and watch our backs. Grady, Kaika, you come in the middle. Watch my ass.”
“We have Lilah’s permission to do that, sir?” Kaika asked.
Therrik growled.
“Just checking,” Kaika said.