Free 05 Dragon Blood: The Blade's Memory by Lindsay Buroker Page A

We’ll hurry.

Chapter 4
    “Another dark house,” Tolemek observed.
    He and Ridge stood in the shadow of a tree in the back of another white house, this one identical in layout to Ridge’s own one-story, one-bedroom home. His former home. They had passed the charred ruins on their way over to this street. He had resisted the urge to snoop in the wreckage or knock on the neighbors’ doors to ask if they had seen the diabolical people who had been responsible. He assumed it had to do with the group hunting Sardelle. That group was another reason he didn’t want the word out that he was back in the city. Its leaders would probably assume Sardelle was, too, and double their efforts to find her.
    “With luck, he’ll be sleeping,” Ridge whispered. “It’s after midnight now.”
    Tolemek had taken more than two hours smoking up Ort’s house with his potion-making projects.
    “He may hear us picking his lock,” Tolemek said. “Especially if you do it.”
    Yes, that was a risk. Therrik wasn’t just infantry; he had served with the elite forces and internal special security. He had probably been trained to wake up at the sound of a squirrel pissing in the woods.
    “You don’t have your corrosive door—and wall—opening goo, eh?” Ridge asked.
    “No household items suitable for making it. That takes some strong chemicals and a special touch.”
    Special. That described Tolemek suitably enough.
    Ridge picked a piece of bark off the tree. “What about your knockout gas?”
    “I was able to make knockout grenades and smoke bombs. Technically, grenades and bombs may be optimistic words, since the fuses were made from boot laces and the chemicals are stored in tea tins filched from the kitchen.”
    “So long as the contents drop the big hulking muscle-head on his ass,” Ridge said. “How do you feel about lighting one of your tea tins and chucking it through that window? We can get him in his bed, knock him out before he has a chance to hear us trying to sneak in.”
    “How do I feel about it? I feel that you should do it. Also that the tin would bounce off the glass.”
    Ridge picked up a rock that was part of the edging for the tree. “Tie it to this.”
    “Someone’s going to hear that, Zirkander.”
    “Does it matter? That someone is supposed to pass out as soon as he breathes in the contents.”
    “I meant the neighbors. These houses are close together. And how do you know which window fronts the bedroom?”
    Ridge pointed at the back window to the right of the door. “It’s the same layout as my house. The other one’s the kitchen. There’s a living room and a small office up front.”
    Tolemek grumbled something incomprehensible, but he had brought twine along and was able to tie one of his canisters to the rock. Ridge wished he had the prowess to simply jump into Therrik’s path, confront him, and then beat meat-for-brains into the ground instead of resorting to trickery, but he wanted to accomplish his self-imposed mission, not get himself killed.
    “Here.” Tolemek dumped the rock into Ridge’s hand, as if to dump all responsibility there too.
    Ridge accepted it, looked up and down the row of back yards, and listened for anyone who might be walking or driving down the street out front. The fort had fallen asleep while they were in Ort’s house, with the only noise now the sound of the wind whipping a rope against a flagpole down the block.
    Ridge crept toward the back window, jerking his head for Tolemek to follow. He had the matches.
    As he padded across the lawn, dew dampening the cuffs of his trousers, he stepped as quietly as he could, worried he would make more noise than the pissing squirrel he had thought of earlier. His eyes locked on the closed curtain, hoping he would see if it moved. But he couldn’t make out much in the dim lighting. His heart thudded against his ribs as he crept closer, and images of Therrik leaping out the window to strangle him flashed through his mind.