Free Dragon Airways by Brian Rathbone Page A

other Al'Zjhon, they did fight on the same side of the war, and Argus Kind would be most displeased if two of his hand-picked soldiers . . . disappeared. At that moment, she thought he might lose three at once. No sign of the fleet or land emerged. Not for the first time, Casta tapped the compass to ensure it floated freely and was not stuck.
    "You've killed us all," Grunt said before punching the back of her seat.
    Casta barely felt it. She had gone into the zone. It was something she'd learned during the cutting camps. When Argus Kind had put out the call for those willing to serve in an elite fighting force, many had answered; few survived. Most were turned away immediately, and others left early on, but Casta had stayed until the end, defeating her competition by being sharper and more focused than they. There had been better fighters, better strategists, and even those more capable of detecting magic than she—those she'd had to eliminate before anyone else became aware of their abilities. Even her own ability she kept a secret. It was not until Argus Kind himself had threatened to cut her that she revealed her true value. Not only had she completed training beyond the abilities of most men, but she could bring him that which he desired—magic.
    Why he wanted it did not matter. He was in power, and that was what he wanted found, even though he'd proven wholly incapable of accessing it. Only items that could be operated by anyone were within his grasp; it was a closely guarded secret but not one that could be hidden from Casta Mett. Knowing this, she did not mind gathering magic for him as much. It coincided with her own desires and allowed her to do so with the full strength and support of the Zjhon nation. And there was no reason she had to give Argus Kind everything she found, so long as she was the only one capable of locating magic.
    Argus Kind was not her king, but he was the king. Whether he liked to call himself one or not, he became king the moment he killed King Gareth. There were limits to the power of even kings, and asking your executioner to behead his own brother exceeded those limits. Argus Kind had not complained or given any indication he would refuse. It was still unclear whether King Gareth had even known Dogor Kind was related to his executioner. He'd been a good king but perhaps not as aware of the details of his kingdom as he should have been. It cost him his life.
    Casta Mett had been there that day. It was the same day that taught her nothing was permanent or sacred, nothing was certain or indestructible. In an instant, the entire world could change, just as it had when Argus Kind turned his axe on the rightful king. No matter how much she and others hated him for that very act, no one could argue that Argus Kind had survived every attempt to remove him from power. The wise accept things they could not change; the ambitious find a way to turn those things to their advantage.
    When again Agger seemingly intentionally cut across the air in front of her, Casta's finger drifted to the trigger. It wouldn't take much to bring him down. The U-jet's downfall, besides the weight limits, was its fragility. Future models would surely improve, but these experimental planes were just that. There were reasons Argus Kind had so many trained to fly. Many pilots were lost in battle, but others had been lost in the quest for technological advancement. It had been a costly effort for which Casta was grateful. Without those who had given their lives in the name of progress, she would not have been able to get back to the fleet so quickly—if she made it. Her finger itched on the trigger. It would feel so good to exact vengeance on someone who did his best to complicate her life.
    "Do it," Grunt said from behind her. "Do us both a favor."
    Grunt was not her friend, nor was he an ally. If she shot Agger down, he would have all the information he needed to have her killed. He was wrong. She'd be doing him a favor.