Dragonfly Warrior

by Jay Noel

  The Dragonfly soared over the highway; Zen eyed the enemy barreling down the dirt road in a column formation. The lead vehicle looked bizarre. It was misshapen, as if it had swallowed another locomobile. It was anything but graceful, and it was a wonder the bulky iron monster was able to travel at such great speed. Behind it, a tightly-knit swarm of menacing vehicles followed.

  “There's something up ahead, but I can't tell what it is,” Enapay squawked.

  Zen left his station and grabbed the spyglass lying on the control panel near the steering column. Squinting through the small telescope, he saw that it was indeed a steam locomobile. Two rear smokestacks spit black smoke as it approached. The monstrous nose of the vehicle was heavily fortified with additional plates of armor. Two giant iron plates were joined to form a v-shaped wedge at the front of the vehicle. But what made Zen nearly drop the spyglass was the sight of his katana attached to the front of the locomobile.

  “What do you see?” Enapay asked.

  Taking a deep breath, Zen put the spyglass down. “It is Cheng in an armored locomobile. As an insult, he has fastened my sword to the front of it.” Zen's teeth clenched. “He is mocking me.”

  Enapay reached over for the telescope to take a look himself. His mouth fell open as he stared into the lens. “He's crazy. You don't think he...”

  “Cheng is planning to strike your wall head-on,” Zen said. “He will drive that thing straight through your gates. We must intercept him before that happens.”

  Enapay slapped his steering wheel with both hands. “The man is insane!”

  Zen's mouth went dry as he asked, “Where is your explosive?”

  SO IT HAS COME TO this.

  The lives he'd taken. The battles he'd won and lost. The things he'd achieved. Now on foreign soil, surrounded by filthy criminals, he was about to commit suicide by catapulting himself into a wall.

  His armored locomobile shook as he led his raiders on a collision course with the Nabeho gates. This was the end, and he felt the ache of regret consume him. This was not how he wanted to die, and he couldn't help but wallow in the memories of his past.

  Cheng admitted to himself that he hadn't entered the military out of patriotism. It was the power. Cheng knew his insatiable thirst for power was what drove him to excellence and allowed him to carry out the orders no other man was willing to perform. But his commanding officers had seen this as a weakness.

  During Cheng's tenure as a Jin officer, he never gave the politics of the civil war any thought. He'd decided to widen the campaign while leading a vital operation. He targeted civilians in small villages near the enemy outpost. They were, after all, guilty of conspiring with the enemy and providing refuge for the Sui. He ordered his men to kill them all and set fire to their homes. A few of his soldiers refused and were executed for their insubordination.

  His battalion completely disrupted the flow of supplies to the Sui out west, and the Jins took advantage by securing five consecutive victories thereafter. Word of Cheng's achievements spread, as did the tactics he employed. Soon, he enjoyed a greater following than his own generals, and they conspired to capture him and bring him in front of a military tribunal.

  Jin leadership might have called for Cheng's execution, but to many within the faction, Cheng was a hero. Banishment was the compromise. At first, he insisted on death to preserve his honor. However, he eventually realized that exile left the door open to new possibilities.

  Despite his victories over the native Agriosian tribes, it all felt empty. However, today he would greet the death he should have received back home.

  Cheng scanned the fortified cabin, which was to be his tomb. His eyes caught something that gave him pause. Anchored to the rear wall directly behind him hung a makeshift harness made from thick rope. He hadn't noticed this when he first climbed in. He smiled, admitting that his lieutenant just might deserve more credit than he gave him. Maybe with Igor's handiwork, he might just pull through. In the distance, Cheng saw the faint outline of the Nabeho wall. The airship closed in from above. He chuckled to himself and hoped that the boy from Nihon saw the katana attached to the front of his locomobile.

  Zenjiro's boasting echoed in Cheng's mind while he strapped himself into the rope harness. Perhaps if he did withstand the impact, he would have the opportunity to ram whatever remained of the katana through the little weasel's guts. If he could find the woman that killed Jaarg, he'd get the satisfaction of killing her too.

  Cheng finished tightening the knots securing him against the rear wall. He took deep breaths and filled his lungs with desert morning air. Cheng was ready to die, but not before taking as many as he could with him. He wished destiny would grant him the chance to kill the boy and the woman.

  Fate owed him that much.

  WINONA MET NEVA ONCE SHE was inside the Nabeho fortress. Neva parked the roadster off to one side before getting out of it. Surrounded by guards, Winona put her arms around Neva and led her away from the gates in haste.

  “You must come with me, we have several shelters in the village citadel,” Winona said.

  Neva shrugged her off. “I will stay here and fight.”

  The chief's wife put her hands to her hips and turned her face up towards the wall, but she didn't argue. “Toksu is there. You can take a position near him.”

  Neva bolted towards the steep walkway leading up the wall. She jogged her way down the narrow and crowded terrace until she found the hulking warrior leaning forward against the stone merlon. Hundreds of anxious warriors lined the walls, waiting for the enemy's arrival.

  Toksu held a rifle in both hands while he kept a backup near his right boot. Even when Neva came right up to him, he didn't move.

  “I guess you didn't make it too far,” Toksu said, still looking out.

  Neva checked both of her revolvers. “No. Maybe ten miles.”

  She squinted her eyes and sought to find what the warriors were watching. In the emerging daylight, she recognized the small dot in the sky that was the Dragonfly heading towards the approaching swirl of dust on the highway. From her estimation, Cheng and his men were less than five miles away.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Toksu watched her inspect her pistols.

  “I suspect Cheng is wanting to even the score. I might as well give him the opportunity before I kill him.”

  Toksu smirked and squinted at the scene in front of them. “He won't even reach us. Enapay still has one of those glass bombs on board his cloud-hugger.”

  “Then this should be a quick battle.” Neva imitated Toksu, leaning forward against the wall. “As soon as the Nabeho clear the highway of these bastards, I'll be on my way. So I'm doing myself a favor.”

  “Just don't die. Your son needs you.”

  Neva holstered both pistols and smirked. “Don't worry about me, savage.”

  ENAPAY NAVIGATED THE DRAGONFLY INTO position about one hundred feet above and to the right of Cheng's armored locomobile. A curtain of gunfire spewed from the raider caravan, and Zen and the others got low. Ahak and Sike returned fire with their rifles protruding through the slots in their turret shields. Lena crouched near Zen and readied her own weapon.

  “I must ask,” she yelled over the blasts of gunfire. “Did you actually defeat Toksu in stick-war?”

  Zen peeked his head over the edge, making sure they were still following Cheng's powering locomobile. “Yes.”

  He held the glass bomb in his hand firmly, but carefully. He recalled Enapay saying the chemical inside of it was extremely volatile. He glanced up at the young woman still scrutinizing him.

  Lena shook her head and crawled back to her station to return fire. “Unbelievable,” she said after bolting her rifle.

  Enapay let out a squeaky yelp as bullets zipped by him. With steady hands, he kept the Dragonfly close enough for Zen to have a better chance of hitting Cheng's locomobile with his final bomb.

  “This is as good as it's going to get, Zen.”

  At the same exact mo
ment Zen pulled himself up to throw, Cheng's arm shot through a small opening in the side of his vehicle's cabin, gun in hand. The raider fired his pistol, and incredibly, two of the bullets came precariously close to hitting the Dragonfly's hull. One zinged over Enapay's head.

  The Dragonfly nearly careened out of control when Enapay dropped to the floor. His hand pulled on the helm and forced the airship to bank hard to the right. The other four lost their balance and stumbled to the deck. Zen managed to keep his grip on the railing and the bomb. Lena tumbled and slammed into him with a crash.

  Zen caught her with his body, the weight of her impact punching the air out of his lungs. Lena pulled herself up, flashing him an apologetic look.

  “Sorry!” Enapay brought the Dragonfly level.

  Zen forced his lungs to expand and looked up towards the airship's bow. They were now only minutes from reaching the Nabeho village. He turned to Enapay who gave him an abrupt and frantic hand signal. It was time for Zen to throw the bomb.

  The other three warriors unleashed a barrage of their own and provided cover fire for Zen. He left the safety of the iron shield long enough to aim and hurl the explosive at Cheng's vehicle.

  The wind took hold of the glass sphere and blew it wildly off course. Zen held his breath and watched the initial bright flash consume the rear of Cheng's locomobile. The violent shock wave of the blast blew Zen's hair loose from its knot. He shut his eyes and hit the floor, praying he hadn't gone blind. The fiery eruption rocked the airship, and Zen felt the Dragonfly veer sharply to the right as the full force of the explosion filled the air.

  With his sight still fuzzy, Zen peered over the airship's rails. He prayed he'd been successful. Once the smoke cleared, what he saw astounded him.

  The bomb failed to strike the locomobile's cockpit, but instead blew off a piece of the rear. Cheng's transport continued its course, blazing like a comet. The back end spewed streaking flames, but the engine was protected by the cockpit's armor and still thundered on. Zen couldn't see Cheng inside the well-armored cabin, but he imagined the Xian smiling.

  “I was never good with those things.” Zen slumped against the side of the hull. He wiped the long black strands from his face in disgust. “I am sorry.”

  Enapay kept in pursuit, but at a higher altitude. “Now what?”

  Zen struggled upright to steal another look at what remained of Cheng's monstrosity below. “He is hiding behind the iron plates. We cannot get a clear shot at him. We are out of bombs and out of time.”

  The stone wall loomed before them as Enapay sped the Dragonfly to beat the raiders to the fortress. Zen noted the Nabeho warriors in their defensive positions lined up on top of the wall and crammed inside both main towers flanking the main gate. He had failed them all, and now the Dragonfly had seconds to warn them.

  “Get out of there!” Enapay waved his arms wildly at the Nabeho on the wall. “Get out now!”

  The Dragonfly streaked above the warriors' heads and rushed towards the center of the village before circling back around. Thankfully, the braves heard Enapay's warning. They scattered and pushed each other away from the fortress' main entrance.

  Cheng's fiery locomobile rumbled towards them. Zen's throat was dry and his hands clutched the edge of the airship's hull when Cheng smashed headfirst into the tall iron gates, blanketing the whole front of the fortress in fire and smoke.

  The sound of metal smashing metal filled the air, followed by a violent outburst that rattled the Dragonfly for several seconds. It was as if the land had ripped open. The sharp blast gave way to a growing rumble. Zen swore he heard two explosions, and through the thick fog, he could hear the terrified cries of the Nabeho coming from below.

  The dark cloud billowing from the Nabeho wall expanded overhead. Zen grasped Enapay's shoulder. His mouth tasted of blood, and his head still pounded. It took him a moment to say, “We need to get down there.”

  Enapay nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

  With the turn of a smaller wheel on the side of the helm, the Dragonfly lost altitude. Shards of stone and slag iron fell from the sky; the locomobile was twisted metal trapped in a maelstrom of earth and fire. As the Dragonfly drew closer, Zen watched a second transport smash head-first into the wall to the right of the gate.

  The rest of the raiders poured from their now-stopped vehicles towards the fortress, forming a loose charging column towards the open gash in the Nabeho defenses. Cheng's ruined vehicle was lodged where the main gate had stood. The transport's heavy armor blossomed like an iron flower, and it made the damaged gates impassable. The second locomobile had punched straight through the fortress' barrier, creating a wider opening in the stone rampart.

  Enapay plunged the Dragonfly towards the damaged front gates. Zen heard the Nabeho fire their weapons at the invaders, keeping the raiders at bay. The smoke thinned, and Zen caught sight of Cheng crawling out of his vehicle's crumpled cabin.

  Cheng looked mostly unhurt, and he took refuge behind what was left of his locomobile. Lena raised her rifle, but Zen grabbed the barrel and shoved her weapon aside.

  “Cheng is mine.” Zen found Chief Ohitekah's spear on the floor and tore Lena's pistol from her holster.

  Enapay brought the Dragonfly above the burning wreckage, and Zen threw him one final look of assurance before jumping overboard. Zen landed hard on the dusty earth. His momentum carried him forward, and he tucked his body and rolled until he dug his boots into the ground. Zen crouched on one knee and waited for the world to stop spinning.

  Zen straightened himself and prayed. I have no life. I have no death.

  Cheng emerged from his cover with his gun raised; his white teeth gritted as he squeezed the trigger. Still dizzy, Zen flung his body behind the wrecked vehicle; its smokestack belched the last of its wet steam. He waited for Cheng's gun blast, but only the click of an empty chamber came.

  Zen took a hold of Lena's revolver and spun away from the smoldering wreckage.

  “Out of bullets.” Cheng drew his Xian sword from behind his back. His narrow eyes glared at the barrel of Zen's pistol. “Face me like a real samurai.”

  The sounds of war surrounded them, and the deafening thunder of gunfire echoed from behind the wall. Zen looked to his left and watched clusters of Cheng's raiders attempt to pass through the large crater in the wall, only to be mowed down by Nabeho bullets.

  Zen's muscles tensed. He let the boiling fury burn itself out. His finger lingered on the trigger, but he beckoned a glacial calm into his body.

  “Put the gun away, boy.” Cheng raised his sword. His hand tore the damaged armor from his chest. “Let us do what we do best.”

  Zen threw the gun aside. He was still a nobleman of Nihon, and he would fight with honor even in the presence of the honor-less.

  Cheng twirled his one-handed blade in swift circles, coming to a low fighting stance with the sword pointed at Zen. “Big mistake.”

  The Nabeho spear was lighter than the naginanta blades Zen had used back home. However, the wooden shaft felt solid as he swung the spear in large menacing circles in order to gain a sense of the weapon's balance. The long steel spearhead gleamed as he held it horizontally and level with Cheng's heart.

  Zen felt his breathing and heart rate slow as the familiar energy of Ishen filled his insides. His entire body felt energized, his mind sharp.

  Cheng lunged forward. His double-edged blade darted forward like a serpent's tongue and clashed against the metal of Zen's spinning spear. Without hesitation, Cheng wheeled his weapon in rapid circles towards Zen's head. His movements were fluid as if his wrist were made of silk.

  Zen easily parried all of Cheng's lightning-quick attacks. His mind was calculating and empty; his body moved without effort or thought. The Nabeho spear was a blur when it met the Xian steel with a high pitched song.

  Cheng backed off. He breathed heavily as he solidified his balance.

  “You are good.” Cheng maintained a safe distance while his chest heaved. His face was smear
ed with sweat and soot. “Who are you really?”

  Zen remained still, his spear ready for another attack. “I am Zenjiro of the Kanze.”

  It felt right to tell him who was about to plunge his soul into the next life.

  Zen swept his weapon in a circular motion, giving the razor-sharp spearhead momentum before arcing towards Cheng's midsection.

  Cheng was a brute, but his movements were graceful and smooth. He maneuvered his body below the long slash of Zen's spear and rushed forward to counter. Zen brought the spearhead upwards, and the butt end of the shaft circled forward and crashed into Cheng's chin with a hollow crack.

  Cheng groaned and slithered backwards. He tripped over a piece of metal debris embedded in the dirt. His arms waved wildly, but he managed to steady himself. Drops of red from his mouth dribbled down into his black beard, and rage flowed with it. Cheng spun his sword once again before unleashing a series of rapid attacks with new ferocity.

  The blows were powerful, and Zen wheeled backwards as his spear vibrated and sparked with each strike. Despite his heightened senses and reflexes, Zen still wasn't fast enough. Did the Xian also possess the power to conjure Ishen? Cheng's blade was a typhoon, and searing pain in Zen's right leg forced him to retreat.

  The warmth of blood flowed from his thigh to his boot, and Zen gave himself only a split second to glimpse at his burning wound. His knees buckled, but Zen fought the urge to crumble. He kept his spear pointed forward to weather another Xian storm.

  Being in the state of Ishen made his senses sharp, but so too was his mind honed. Despite the sparks of fireworks alighting from his fresh wound, his acute willpower pushed it aside. The energy within him surged again, forcing the pain to be just a memory.

  “You are more than good.” Cheng's eyes flashed downward at the gash weeping blood through Zen's torn pants. “You are the best I have ever faced. It is as much an honor to kill you as it is to die by my hand.”

  Zen took deep controlled breaths; the point of his weapon followed Cheng who circled him in quiet, yet deliberate, footsteps. Raiders continued to fall around them, but he and Cheng may as well have been invisible to the rest of the battle. Zen was content with allowing the fighting to remain in the background, but he caught a glimpse of the Nabeho watching him from above.