Gold Dragon (Heritage of Power #5)

“Was that a yes or a no?” Grady whispered to her. Trip assumed Therrik had more years in rank than he did, since Grady hadn’t objected to Therrik being in charge.

“I believe what he said was that his wife requests we not let a dragon sink fangs into his ass,” Kaika said.

“That much in one growl? Impressive.”

“Dragon Boy, you’re with me.” Therrik looked at Trip, jerked his head toward the door, and started walking. “Let me know when we’re getting close to one.” His hand flexed on Kasandral’s hilt.

Telryn, Azarwrath said, if you do not correct him, I will.

You can’t do anything to him as long as he’s carrying one of those swords.

We shall see about that. If nothing else, I can flash nightmarish images into his mind.

I doubt anything gives that man nightmares. Trip followed Therrik.

Apparently not quickly enough. Therrik gripped the latch on the door, saw that Trip hadn’t caught up yet, and said, “What’s the hold up?”

“My sword would prefer it if you call me by rank or name, sir. Not Dragon Boy.”

“Yeah? Your sword can talk to my sword.” Therrik held Kasandral aloft and looked down at Azarwrath’s scabbard.

To that ignorant heap of ore? Please.

“Are you really married, sir?” Trip didn’t bother to hide the puzzlement in his tone.

“He is,” Kaika said, stopping behind them. “To General Zirkander’s cousin. I understand family gatherings are full of warmth, cheer, and booze.”

“A lot of booze,” Therrik said.

The door was locked. Before Trip could use his power to thwart the mechanism, Therrik heaved and ripped the door open, metal squealing.

“Subtle, sir,” Kaika said.

Therrik must have had enough banter. He strode into a dim hallway, the pale glow of his sword washing the beige walls and wood office doors.

The chapaharii blades were all glowing strongly. They would lead their wielders to the dragons without Trip’s help, but he would do his best to advise.

“All three of them have moved down to the basement floor, near… I read about thirty people down there with them.”

“Hostages?” Therrik asked, turning down the first stairwell they reached.

Trip paused, and Kaika and Grady almost bumped into him.

“I’m not sure,” Trip said. “Maybe just prisoners that are being guarded because…” He didn’t know.

As he followed Therrik down the stairs, he reached out with his mind, not trying to sense the dragons this time, but trying to connect to the humans. It was hard to single them out for contact with the dragons so close. Even though their auras weren’t as pronounced as when they were in their normal forms, they radiated power that drowned out the essences of the mundane creatures—and people—around them.

Hello? Trip asked, trying someone in the center of the group. They were all in one basement room lined with shelves and filing cabinets.

The person he sought to contact, a man, mentally recoiled and did not answer. He clawed at the air in front of him as if he could drive Trip’s presence away.

Doubting he had time to convince him that he was a friend, Trip shifted to one of the other people in the room, an older woman with a hint of dragon blood. Maybe she would more easily accept telepathic contact.

Hello, I’m Captain Trip with Wolf Squadron, he said, figuring he should make it clear he wasn’t a dragon.

The recipient paused, and Trip sensed alarm and wariness.

Are the dragons holding you hostage? We’re trying to reach you.

Yes. I am Lady Skymoor, the governor’s wife. My husband and many prominent citizens are here too. And an odd number of bakers. They want to trade us for the region. They—

Do you think we cannot intercept your communication? a voice boomed into Trip’s head. That we do not know a puny little mage is accompanying those sneaking into our new lair? You cannot harm us. You must come and take our demands to your king. Send forth your greatest leader.

“Dragon Boy.” Therrik snapped his fingers in front of Trip’s face. “I said which way.”

“I do think you should find a more flattering name for him, Therrik,” Colonel Grady said, gripping Trip’s shoulder from behind. “Even though my sword here believes I should skewer him.”

“He hasn’t done anything yet to prove he deserves flattery. Falling off a pot and running into me doesn’t count.”

“At the least, choose something that’s more easily rhymed than boy. I’m scribbling down notes, should I need to immortalize our mission today in a ballad. There are options—soy, bok choy, corduroy—but man would make everything much simpler.

Therrik growled at him. “You’re even less deserving of flattery, so far, Grady.”

“That’s hardly fair. We haven’t yet done anything.”

“A dragon is speaking to me,” Trip said. “They know exactly where we are and want us to send our greatest leader forward to negotiate. They’re prepared to free the hostages if we give them this region.”

“Region?”

“The city isn’t enough?” Grady asked. “The greed of dragons knows no bounds.”

Tell your leader to tell your king. We have decided that our earlier demands were too modest. If we do not have a treaty granting this region to our band of dragons by morning, we shall slay these humans and destroy the city.

If you’re trying to take over the city, why would you destroy it? Trip asked.

Human dwellings mean nothing to us. It is the land and the sea and all the life teeming upon and within it that will be ours. You humans stole the world from us. You owe us this. The voice grew so booming in Trip’s mind that he had to grip the wall for support. Tell your leader.

Trip reached out to General Zirkander, not because the dragon told him so—at least he hoped he wasn’t being so easily influenced—but because Zirkander needed this information.

Sir?

What is it, Captain? Zirkander promptly responded, though Trip sensed him piloting his flier upside down as he arrowed toward a silver dragon, leading the squadron against the creature during a moment when Bhrava Saruth and Shulina Arya weren’t close enough to be in danger of being hit.

I have a message, Trip told him and relayed it.

I see.

Do we keep going? Try to defeat them?

Yes. Angulus isn’t giving up any of the country to blackmailing dragons.

Understood, sir.

Trip had been doing his best to keep his telepathic communication pinpoint so it wouldn’t be easily overheard by the dragons, but there was no way to shield Zirkander’s thoughts, as far as he knew, and a deep growl sounded in his mind, like that of some irritated predator.

At the rear of their group, Captain Ahn abruptly turned, facing backward and pointing her rifle toward the stairs they’d come down.

“I heard something,” she said quietly.

“I don’t sense anyone back there,” Trip said, double-checking as he spoke.

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