Dragonfly Warrior

by Jay Noel

  Cheng stopped his stalking and raised his sword. He burst forward at Zen with a flurry of stabs and slashes. Zen anticipated each attack and responded without conscious effort. He was water, ebbing and flowing with the motion of his enemy's steel. Cheng's rhythm was steady, but Zen noticed the Xian's breath labored to keep up. Zen found that each new strike became slower and weaker. Cheng back-pedaled, but Zen would not give him the luxury of catching his breath. Zen thrust his spear in several rapid jabs, piercing Cheng's left shoulder twice.

  The Xian let out a hideous shriek and circled his sword to block the oncoming assault, but he couldn't match Zen's resolve. Overpowered, Cheng couldn't stop Zen's blade from plunging deep into his abdomen. A muffled gasp escaped the Xian's lips before using his sword's hilt to slide Zen's spear from his open gut.

  In desperation, Cheng brought his blade up and released a vicious final blow downwards at the crown of Zen's head. Zen was taken by surprise as he side-stepped the Xian sword. He severed Cheng's right hand for good measure.

  Cheng fell to his knees and pressed his bloody right arm against his chest. His mouth drew open in a silent cry, full of venom and hot fury.

  Zen brought his spear's blade high. He looked down at the Xian whose eyes still flashed madness.

  “You have fought bravely,” Zen whispered. His body coiled. Ishen was beginning to fade, and the blazing pain in his right thigh returned. “This is an honorable death.”

  Cheng mumbled a curse in his Origin tongue. Blood gushed from his open mouth, and his eyes remained full of hate.

  Zen let his blade fly.

  THE CRUMBLING BREACH IN THE Nabeho wall allowed a column of six or seven raiders wide to get inside the fortress. The braves assembled in the courtyard and formed their own defensive formation. From above, Neva watched the Nabeho obliterate the rushing pirates.

  All around her, warriors on the walls fired a rain of bullets and mowed down the raiders' advance. This had been an ill-planned attack, and the Nabeho made them pay dearly for it.

  Neva and Toksu had abandoned their original post when the two locomobiles slammed into the wall, and they now found themselves sniping from one of the east gate towers. They met Chief Ohitekah and Itan there, and Toksu volunteered to take the chief to the citadel when the fighting at the breach intensified.

  An unusual sound carried above the discord of rifle fire, a quick metallic rapping noise. Neva found it disturbing, and her eyes roamed the battlefield below until she found the source.

  A squad of raiders carried strange looking rifles that fired at an unbelievable rate. Neva recalled hearing about early prototypes of such guns during the rebellion against the Iberians, but she had never seen them in action until now.

  The raiders with the auto guns pushed their advance; the column marched through the breach with renewed vigor. From the tower, Neva took several invaders out with careful aim, but as each raider fell, a new one snatched up the powerful rifle and continued the attack.

  The Dragonfly soared overhead, and it made several passes at the raiders. They pointed their auto guns at the airship, spraying bullets with such deadly speed that accuracy meant little.

  Neva blanched at the sight of sparks lighting up the craft, and its flight became erratic. Even from a mile away she could see it sway and rock. Black vapor from its engine left a long, dark trail, and its wings flapped like a wounded bird. The raiders continued to follow it with their auto gun fire as the Dragonfly dropped from the sky.

  The heavily armed raiders from the rear pushed the invading column forward, and the momentum of the battle quickly shifted. Itan snatched a flare pistol from a hook and fired a dazzling red streak that blossomed into a crimson fireball in the morning sky.

  The Nabeho warriors on the ground pulled back, leaving the courtyard and retreating towards the center of the village. There, she estimated at least three hundred Nabeho braves stationed inside the trench fired on the raiders that poured into the fortress.

  She turned her attention back to the airship as it spiraled downwards. Neva wanted to close her eyes, but she forced herself to watch. The Dragonfly pulled its nose up just before impact.

  The craft almost seemed to take flight again after bouncing off the ground, but it came back down and slid across the sand instead. After skidding for several hundred feet, the Dragonfly finally came to a halt.

  Neva looked down and noticed a handful of the raiders armed with auto guns break away from the invading column to finish off the Dragonfly's survivors. Her head throbbed in alarm, and she descended the ladder in haste.

  THE ENGINE SPUTTERED, AND THICK smoke made Enapay's eyes water and his throat close up. He grabbed onto the side of the Dragonfly's hull and pulled himself up and over until he crashed to the desert floor. His vision spun and his jaw hurt, but he forced himself up to check on the others.

  “Everyone okay?” Enapay called out before choking on the black cloud spewing from what was left of his airship. He kept his goggles on to protect his eyes from the harsh smoke.

  He heard shuffling against the hull, and a weak voice finally replied, “I'm alive.” It was Lena's, though he couldn't see her through the fumes.

  “I am too,” grunted another voice from the stern.

  “Who's that?” Enapay could barely discern his own hand in front of him. Billowing smoke swirled all around him, and it was like night had fallen. He tried waving the blackness away.

  “It's Sike. I found Lena. I think her leg is broken.”

  That left one more.

  “Ahak, where are you?” Enapay walked towards the bow of his airship. “Are you all right?”

  A breeze blew the smoke away for a moment, long enough for Enapay to see Sike helping Lena out of the Dragonfly. He pushed his goggles up to his forehead to get a better look. The girl hobbled on one leg, and Sike had a nasty cut on his forehead. Other than that, they looked relatively healthy for having tumbled from the sky. There was no sign of Ahak

  His mind came to a ghastly conclusion, but he couldn't allow himself to finish the thought. The wind died, and another wall of black smog enveloped him. Enapay covered his mouth and took several steps away from the wreckage. He scanned the desert. From afar, he saw movement, and it filled him with hope.

  “Ahak?” Enapay called out.

  Lena and Sike hobbled over and stood next to him. They waited for Ahak to emerge. Enapay heard a fierce staccato sound, and several flashes cut through the gloom. In his periphery, he saw Lena double over and sink to the ground. Sike and Enapay locked eyes for a fraction of a second before they both scurried back over the airship's hull and got low.

  Sike crawled on his belly to a rifle and dumped a bag of bullets onto the floor. With trembling hands, he clumsily loaded the weapon. Enapay drew his pistol, but he didn't dare move as the torrent of gunfire went right over his head.

  Stupid auto guns. The raiders had smuggled them from Iberia for sure.

  He heard the sound of another vehicle approaching, and his heart sank. If a whole carload of raiders with those rapid-fire guns were coming, he and Sike were done for. Enapay looked down to check his revolver, and the sight of his own blood made him gasp.

  The bottom of his jacket and his left thigh were covered in blood. There was no pain, so Enapay thought he might be in shock. His hands shook. He debated whether he should sit there and wait to die or peel away his jacket and shirt to inspect the damage. Sike remained face down, afraid to move.

  “Now what do we do?” the young brave whispered.

  Maybe this was the right time to become spiritual. Why not? It worked for Zen. The sudden desire for a cold ale made his mouth go dry. He decided to hedge his bets and pray to the Wind and Sun gods for protection, or at least a quick and painless death. The worst that could happen was that no supernatural force would get him out of this. Maybe it was a day for miracles.

  Enapay had made so many damn mistakes in his life, so he whispered a quiet apology for all he'd done. He always planned on eventually going st
raight, and a big part of him had thought that coming back home would help.

  With every blast, his body involuntarily jerked. There was no escape this time. This was not how he'd imagined his death, and his reverence melted into regret.

  Another burst rang through the air, and Enapay shut his eyes to wait for the inevitable. When the sound of gunfire suddenly went silent, he wondered if he was dead. The volcanic heat searing his side and leg let him know that he yet lived.

  “Enapay?” a voice cut through the thick smoke.

  Sike pushed his body upwards cautiously, leading with his rifle.

  “Is your crew all right?” the voice came again.

  Enapay blinked. He didn't recognize the voice. He shook his head in the hope of rattling some memory into place. It sounded like a woman.

  The voice emitted a muffled cry as the thumping of footsteps came closer. Enapay took an unsteady breath, assuming the woman must have discovered Lena's body lying next to the Dragonfly.

  “Sike and I are here, inside the ship. I've been shot.” Sharp, stabbing pain stole his breath. “At least twice, but I'm too scared to look.”

  Neva climbed aboard. She greeted Sike before coming to Enapay with a worried look on her face. “Where are you hit?”

  “I know my left leg for sure,” Enapay replied. “I don't know. Maybe somewhere on my left side too.”

  The pain took an opportunity to reassure Enapay of his diagnosis. He'd taken two bullets. One buried itself in his thigh, and the other ripped through his left side. Neva bit her lower lip while inspecting his wounds.

  “You're lucky,” she said.

  Enapay laughed, but laughter turned to pained coughs abruptly as another wave of agony took hold. “You call this lucky?” His noticed Neva was bleeding from the left arm. “You're hit too.”

  “Those raiders might have been armed with auto guns, but they had horrible aim.” She pulled back Enapay's jacket. “You'll live. The bullets grazed you. The girl isn't so fortunate.”

  “I had four braves with me,” Enapay said weakly. “Ahak must have fallen out.”

  Sike's stocky figure loomed over Lena's body, his eyes wet with tears. “Who's going to tell Toksu his niece is dead?”

  Neva put her palm to her mouth. “She was Toksu's niece?”

  Enapay lay still, even breathing hurt. “I will. She was my responsibility.”

  “I saw what happened. Once the raiders used their auto guns, you didn't stand a chance,” Neva said as she touched his hand.

  Imagining the raiders cutting down his people with their rapid fire weapons filled Enapay with dread. It was sure to be a slaughter. He didn't want to know, but he forced himself to ask, “How are our defenses holding?”

  “Several of Cheng's men got their hands on auto rifles and pushed their column past the wall,” she explained. “Your ground force pulled back into a trench. The raiders had nowhere to hide in the open square, and their bodies were beginning to pile up.”

  He wasn't sure how much damage the Dragonfly had sustained from those cursed weapons, but he knew it would take more than tinkering to get her off the ground again. With a grunt and Neva's help, he stood to inspect the airship.

  The armored cylinders encasing the hydrogen-lifting ballonets had done their job, but more than two dozen bullets penetrated the hull and struck the engine and boiler. The rudder had flown off when they crash-landed. Its crumpled wings were beyond repair.

  Enapay spat. “Look what they did. The Dragonfly is a wreck.”

  Neva playfully slapped Enapay's chin. “You don't look so great either, savage.”

  ZEN RIPPED THE SHIRT FROM a dead raider. He tore off a long strip of cloth and tied it tightly around his leg. The open wound throbbed and bled as he took cover behind Cheng's wrecked transport. He watched the Dragonfly crash into the open desert. His first instinct was to help Enapay and the others, but when he heard more of the auto guns opening fire nearby, Zen turned towards the fortress instead.

  His hands searched the ground until he finally found the pistol he'd discarded. Cheng's blood drenched the metal blade of his spear, so Zen gave the weapon an abrupt swipe towards the ground to clean it. Carrying a weapon in each hand, he peered over the wreckage of the two locomobiles.

  Zen noticed the raiders' abandoned vehicles. They were scattered in a haphazard line fifty yards away. A quick plan formed in his mind, and he hoped to have the strength to carry it out before he lost too much blood.

  Ignoring the stabbing pain in his right leg, Zen ran unnoticed to the unguarded vehicles. He picked an empty and idling locomobile. He unhitched the passenger car, jumped into the cab, and with a push of the red lever, released the brakes. Zen pushed the throttle lever, and the vehicle surged forward. Fresh steam blew from the rear smokestacks, and the pistons gained momentum. He maneuvered around the other vehicles until he spotted his target.

  The raiders' formation was barely a column at all, and because the breach in the Nabeho wall was so narrow, they were in more of a haphazard wedge.

  When Zen put the locomobile in full throttle, the raiders at the rear of the formation finally noticed him coming right for them. They brought their auto guns level and fired a storm of bullets, but the cab's armor protected Zen. He continued to close in. His heart rate accelerated, keeping time with the tireless chugging of the locomobile's pistons. He was going at top speed, and while a handful of the raiders managed to dive out of his way, for the others, it was too late.

  Their grimy faces twisted in sheer terror as Zen drove the bull-nose front of the vehicle into the helpless raiders. One pirate crashed into the cracked windshield with his head, his face jagged with horror seconds before smashing into the glass. Bodies bounced off the iron plates, flailing like rag dolls as their bones shattered. They cried out after being thrown into the air and crushed by the locomobile's merciless steel wheels.

  The Nabeho wall loomed inches to his right until Zen pulled the steering wheel sharply to the left and hit the brakes. The vehicle protested with a metal-on-metal screech and nearly rolled over before Zen regained control.

  He pushed the throttle again, mercilessly striking several more raiders with his front end. Zen struggled to see through the spider-webbed cracks covering the windshield.

  Zen turned hard left again, bringing it around for another run, but the pirates' formation had already completely collapsed. At least two dozen raiders abandoned their positions and retreated. They scrambled into the remaining cars and sped away. Zen killed the engine and took the first breaths he'd taken since getting behind the steering wheel. He took deep gulps of air, fighting off the siren's song for sleep. He'd lost a lot of blood, and he knew he was in danger of blacking out.

  A handful of Nabeho warriors cautiously emerged from the breach in the wall. They watched the last of the raiders jump into a locomobile and flee. The braves threw their arms up into the air and screamed their celebratory war cries. Itan was among the growing group of warriors cheering, and the general spotted Zen.

  Zen's leg was on fire, and he felt lightheaded. He climbed out of the cabin against his body's pleas to stay still. Itan wore a concerned look on his sweaty face as he ran to assist him.

  Itan held him up by his shoulders. “You are extraordinary.”

  Zen was about to give thanks, but his tongue was like baked leather.

  The ruined bodies of the raiders lay scattered all around them, and Zen allowed himself to take in the victory. For one fleeting moment, he felt like he was back home. His nerigawa was covered in dust and blood. Takeo would have gotten a chuckle out of that.

  The surviving raiders had left behind most of their locomobiles and empty cargo cars. Itan barked an order to his men, and the front gates opened. Nabeho braves stepped out to inspect the damage and casualties. Some of them picked up the auto guns the pirates had abandoned and put them in a small pile one by one. The others climbed on top of the vehicles and danced.

  With Itan's help, Zen took slow steps toward a large group
of jubilant warriors. With a wide smile, he let himself become enveloped by the Nabeho war cries and arm shakes. But all he could think of was the fallen Dragonfly.

  THE LONG CARAVAN OF ARMED roadsters, locomobiles, and their train cars lumbered south along the unmarked barren highway. The desert was a still and desolate wasteland that made Geller nervous. His private train was out in the open, and he didn't like to be vulnerable. He had a line of five swift roadsters mounted with .30 caliber, water-cooled auto guns on each flank of his cavalcade, yet they failed to help him feel safe.

  His guarded cargo consisted of many valuables. After leaving Europa and crossing the Atlantica Sea, he acquired stores of Iberian weapons and a fleet of Iberian vehicles, which he sold at a three hundred percent profit to an army of pirates out west.

  He had purchased a dozen adolescent boys from a poor orphanage at the southern border of Agrios. Most of them were possessed of a unique orphan fury, and they would make excellent gladiators. Public fights to the death were a favorite sport in the coastal Azincayan towns. His most prized possession, however, was kept right beside him.

  The boy sat quietly, pouring over the engineering manuals and books Geller had given him. Marcel Bouvier was oblivious to the outside world, and he only looked up when he needed to eat or relieve himself.

  Geller's own father was an inventor, so he had a sincere appreciation for the engineering arts. That idiot Pierce had no idea what his stepson was capable of. The child's stepfather came from a wealthy family, and their money came from trades no cleaner than Geller's. From narcotics to extortion, Pierce inherited a small empire. The rebellion against Iberia only made it easier for his family to flourish while the rest of Francia plunged into poverty.

  Up until the end of the winter season, Geller had little contact with Pierce and his company. When Geller found himself having to work with the spoiled brat in order to smuggle Iberian weapons out of Francia, the two had a life-altering conversation after finalizing the terms of their contract.