by Drew Wagar
‘Twenty,’ Ren said. ‘Ship slow, no turn quick. Hover. Protect.’
Coran nodded. ‘Makes sense. These others?’
There were two of the smaller personnel transports, also open both sides and strung with ropes in a similar fashion.
‘Can move,’ Ren said, with a shrug. ‘Still slow, attack above.’
‘But what about the dachs?’
Ren pointed at the two smallest flying machines. Caesar had called them personnel shuttles, they were of the same configuration that Meru had first flown, sisters of the one he and Zoella had taken.
‘Very quick,’ Ren said, with a grin. ‘Archers back. Shoot dachs. Want to see?’
Coran thought about it. ‘Yeah, I want to see.’
Ren scampered off and jumped into the nearest flying machine. Coran climbed in beside him. In the rear of the vessel the side doors had been opened. Two more youngsters, teenagers a little older than Ren, waved from that section.
Kids flying war machines. How did it come to this?
‘Fun!’ Ren said, flipping switches and adjusting the controls with an easy familiarity.
‘This isn’t a game, Ren,’ Coran admonished. ‘Those witches are coming to kill us.’
‘Kill first,’ Ren answered. He gestured to the pair in the rear of the machine. ‘Ready?’
Both gave him a thumbs up sign.
‘Scarecrow?’ Ren said, pointing through the glass windows at the front of the machine.
‘Aye,’ Coran said, squinting. There were a number of them set up in the next field.
‘Watch.’
Ren pulled on the controls. The machine’s strange engines barked and whined, rising in volume. A moment later they were airborne, with the nose of the ship tilted downwards, about to crash into the stubble below. Coran yelled and braced himself as the ship tilted around him.
The ship didn’t crash, but seemed to be gaining height. It levelled out and Coran could see they were already hundreds of hands above the ground.
‘Shades!’ he muttered, staring out of the windows at the unfamiliar sight of Amar from the air. As they rose he could see almost the entire island, though the far sunright end was lost in the mist.
They climbed even higher. Coran could see the city of Amaris come into view as they rose above the hills that guarded it and then far out to the sea, sparkling under the light of Lacaille.
He was holding his breath, gasping at the spectacle.
Ren was shouting something.
‘Attack!’
The flying machine lurched, tilting over to one side. Coran yelled as the horizon spun about him, the flying machine now in a precipitous dive, its engines growling louder and louder with a scream of increasing pitch. Coran could see the other flying machines below, people looking up and them and pointing …
We’re going to crash!
‘Ren what in snuttin’ shades are you …!’
The machine levelled out just in time, crushing Coran into his seat as it did so. Through the windows bushes and trees snapped past, only hands below the hull. Coran yelled again as Ren dodged one large tree, the flying machine canting to one side.
Then Ren swung the ship into another stomach twisting lurch. Coran clenched his eyes shut as the world outside became a blur of green, yellow and blue.
‘Shoot!’
Coran heard the sound of taut bow strings being released, but he was only just able to keep the contents of his stomach in check. He opened his eyes as the gyrations eased. The flying machine was settling back down on the ground, the engine whine fading away.
‘See?’ Ren asked as the machine settled with a final jolt.
It was too much. His stomach heaved. Coran wrestled with the door, pushed it open and staggered out, collapsing to his knees and throwing up on the grass outside.
He spat the foul taste out of his mouth and staggered up against the side of the flying machine, turning to see Ren and his two companions looking at him.
‘Better?’ Ren asked. ‘Look, see!’
Ren was pointing to his left. Coran wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked to where the boy was pointing. It was one of the scarecrows.
Four arrows were embedded in it.
‘Good, yes?’
Coran blinked. ‘You did that from the air?’ he managed to ask.
All three were nodding.
I didn’t even see the scarecrow …
Coran declined Ren’s offer of a lift back to the city, deciding that a walk would give his churning stomach a chance to settle. He still wasn’t right when he got back.
‘What happened to you?’ Mel demanded, looking at him. ‘You look terrible. Actually … you look … green.’
‘Ren happened to me,’ Coran replied.
‘You went in the flying machine when he was flinging it around the sky?’ Mel asked, with a laugh. ‘More fool you! I watched from the ground, that was bad enough.’
‘I don’t know what the witches are going to make of him and his flying machines,’ Coran muttered. ‘But he certainly scared the life out of me.’
‘And most of your lunch too,’ Mel said, still trying to stifle her laughter.
Fitch had also been busy. He’d been supervising the two contraptions that he’d arranged to have installed guarding each side of the harbour gate. With the help of some volunteers, large barrels had been carried up to the devices. From the sloshing sounds within it was clear that they contained some kind of liquid.
Once there, Fitch had supervised the barrels being emptied into the huge tanks that formed the aft part of the strange devices. Fitch had been very careful to ensure that no one bearing a flame or water was nearby as the liquid was poured.
It was some strange, thin yellow liquid with sparkles of metal within it. Fitch was careful to wipe away any traces of spillage as each barrel was emptied. Then he secured the tanks and locked them with a screw mechanism before checking the operation of the other end of the contraption. Those watching him could see that the siphon and its nozzle could be steered to points out to sea in any direction.
Fitch swung the device back and forth, making adjustments to the mechanism until he was satisfied it was working as he desired. Then he proceeded to walk around the harbour and repeat the entire process with the second contraption. Fitch had selected one of the blacksmiths who had made most of the componentry to man the second device.
Fitch ran through the instructions in a low voice, so as not to be overheard by the crowd of people who were watching from a discreet distance.
‘You understand what you’re doing now?’ Fitch asked.
The man nodded.
‘Not sure on the exact range,’ Fitch said. ‘We’ll see how much pressure they can hold. Best to be cautious to start with, before we build the pressure.’
‘What does it do?’ one youngster asked, pushing forward, bolder than the rest.
‘Never you mind,’ Fitch said, glowering at him. ‘Stay back. Not safe for the likes of you.’
‘But it looks so cool!’
Fitch snorted.
‘Nothing cool about this,’ he muttered to himself. ‘Nothing at all.’
Along the walls of the city the work was no less fervent. The stonework was strong, but it had been designed to protect the harbour and resist the battering of the sea and the wind, not an invasion by armed forces or an aerial assault. The few original catapults along the walls had been supplemented by new ones, but sturdy enough trees had to be cut down far inland and transported to Amaris. Once more, Ren’s flying machines expedited the efforts and the surface vehicles proved ideal for dragging the logs into place. Every available carpenter was employed working all the hours they could to build new weapons both big and small.
Metal was in short supply. There were nowhere near enough swords available to arm even a tenth of the population of the city. Every available piece of scrap metal, valuable or heirloom was seized and given to the only pair of forges in the city. They were working all stretch t
o produce weapons as fast as they could, but they could only produce so many. Most folks would be provided with wooden weapons where that was possible, others brought in their farming implements, consisting of axes, cleavers, hatchets, spades and sickles.
The fishermen had been out at sea, working throughout. Their catches were salted down when they returned before the ships were sent back out again. Anything and everything was being burnt to keep the ‘smokes’ alight, enabling the fishermen to sail out of sight of land to bring in the biggest hauls. There hadn’t been time to teach them the finer arts of navigation with Meru’s new method, nor an easy way to duplicate enough maps.
The weather was growing colder once again, the spots upon the surface of Lacaille growing larger. Their rate of change seemed hard to predict, but all could sense another flare was coming.
Far out to sea, many of the fishing vessels were still plying their trade as they had done for untold rounds. Four vessels were fishing in the seas to the sunward and shaderight, equidistant from the island of Amar and the remote barrenness of the Scattered Isles.
The four ships could just retain visual contact with each other, spread out as they were across the ocean. The first mate of one of the ships was peering across the flickering surface, squinting at the other ships.
‘Something up?’ the Captain asked.
‘Not sure,’ the first mate said. ‘That ship furthest out, looks like they’ve pulled up their nets and are making ready to sail.’
‘Can’t have filled their nets yet,’ the Captain replied. ‘Only dropped them a chime ago.’
‘Don’t make much sense, but yeah … look. Full sails! They’ve come about, looks like they’re in a mighty hurry.’
The Captain looked for himself and nodded.
‘Reckon you’re right, but why?’
‘Must have a reason.’
‘Don’t like this,’ the Captain muttered. ‘Ship our nets, let’s head for home too.’
‘Aye sir.’
The first mate barked orders and the men aboard began hauling in the big nets hand over hand. It was heavy work. By the time the nets were in and the sails were being hoisted the other boat was closing in on them.
‘Skipper?’ the first mate called.
‘Aye?’
‘Look!’
There was something in the sky, moving against the distant clouds, but drawing upwards. Small dark shapes, four or five of them, it was difficult to tell.
‘What in shades are they?’ the Captain asked.
‘Reckon it’s the witches,’ the first mate said. ‘Flying beasts, remember?’
‘Aye,’ the Captain said with a nod. ‘Full sail men, get us underway right now!’
The sails flapped and then billowed out full in the wind as the men set the rigging. The wind was blowing towards Amar at a stiff clip, which allowed them to run before it. They could see the other ship keeping pace on their port side. The remaining two were still to starboard, sails down. The captain could see the men hauling in the nets in readiness.
‘Scorched!’ the first mate cried, pointing upwards.
The two ships were falling behind now. In the sky, the dark dots were taking form, winged beasts flying high in the sky. The captain could see the wings flap every few moments.
Fast, faster than we are …
At some signal the creatures began to dive out of the sky, following each other in a descending pattern. They were heading towards the nearest vessel. Horrified, the crew watched as the great beasts closed on the beleaguered ship.
They turned aside at the last moment, climbing back up into the sky. As they did so, flames erupted around the ship. More of the beasts followed the first, more fire blazed. Flames erupted within the ship, and the sails, rigging and masts caught within moments. The captain and first mate watched in horror as men jumped, their own bodies aflame, into the sea.
‘Witches! With magic fire!’
There was nothing they could do but watch as the witches and their beasts bore down on the second ship. It was likewise hit by the mysterious weapons and burst into flame, its crew lost to the sea like the first.
The two remaining ships were fleeing under full sail, their hulls leaping over the undulating sea. The masts were creaking with the strain, the sails pulling the rigging taught. The ship was heeling over as they tried to maintain their course. The captain yelled at the men to clamber to one side to offset the tilt of the vessel.
Their companion ship was a hundred hands away, struggling with the wind and the waves in the same manner.
Above, the beasts were lining up once more.
‘Get ready to turn hard starboard,’ the captain said. ‘On my mark!’
The first mate signalled for two men to join him and they grabbed hold of the tiller. The captain kept his gaze fixed on the skies as the aerial attack closed.
He could see them now, huge reptilian beasts with mouths full of sharp teeth. On their backs they bore the priestesses, dressed in dark leather. They were holding something up in their right hands. The Captain squinted, trying to make out what it was. As he watched the lead rider threw the object towards them, the following riders doing the same thing in sequence. They were round, spiralling through the air and falling straight towards the ship. The riders’ aim had been good.
‘Now! A-starboard!’
The first mate and his men pushed the tiller hard to the left side of the boat. The ship groaned and heeled further over.
The sea nearby erupted in flames. Some sort of oil had burst upon the water. It was behind them in moments as spray splashed up from the bow.
‘Back a-port!’
The ship lurched in the opposite direction, its sails flapping for a moment before drawing true. The masts creaked with the strain. Another burst of flame from the other side of the ship, the heat intense.
Shadows passed overhead as the great beasts swept by.
The captain turned, just in time to see one more beast swooping down upon them.
‘Hard a …’
The order was never finished. Flame exploded across the deck, blasting the captain, the first mate and his men into the sea. The tiller shunted hard over, driving the ship into an abrupt turn. Without correction the ship kept turning, it heeled over in the wind and capsized, spilling those still aboard into the sea. Flames ran up its length as it went down by the head, a flaming mass of burning timbers.
The beasts circled in the air. One ship remained, still fleeing back towards its home. The beasts turned and flew away.
Coran was looking over the maps of Amaris when senator Janaid burst into the meeting hall.
‘Fishermen have just reported in,’ he gasped out. It was clear he’d sprinted from the harbour with his news. ‘Those that had sailed to the sunward and shaderight. They said there are ships, warships, clustered around the Scattered Isles, too many to count.’
Coran nodded. ‘As expected, the witches will use the islands as staging points and refresh their water supplies before moving on.’
‘They say they came under attack from the air,’ Janaid added. ‘The dachs of these witches, dropping fire on their ships. Most of them …’
‘How many?’ Coran asked.
‘Three ships lost, over forty sailors. Good men …’
Coran bowed his head for a moment.
‘Another tactical move,’ he said. ‘They’re going to blockade us, stop us going out for food.’
‘What do we do?’ Janaid asked.
‘Little we can do,’ Coran replied. ‘Too dangerous to fish now, issue orders for all ships to remain in port. Close the gates to the harbour once all that are still out are back. We keep building up our defences as best we can.’
‘And when that is done?’
‘Then we wait.’
Another stretch passed, with the weather turning stormy, hampering efforts to complete the work. No more fishing vessels had been lost. Heavy leaden skies swirled overhead and grey waves crashed against the city walls. Rain cascad
ed down in thick sheets, soaking everything and obstructing the work of the carpenters.
In the early chimes of the following stretch the wind shifted, turning to come from the sunward, the weather warmer and brighter. The clouds lifted and the rain faded first to drizzle and then stopped. Lacaille blazed out once more, still scarred by the dark blotches on its face. The sea calmed.
Coran nodded as the gusts began to dry the rain-soaked streets.
‘Fair weather for us is fair weather for them too,’ he muttered, seeing the city folks returning to their tasks. He went back to his notes.
Mel on the Mobilis, Ren on the flying machines, Fitch on his harbour weapons. If Meru is able to bring Zoella back we might have some defence against their mental abilities. If not, all we’ve got is everyone armed in some fashion and wanting a piece of these wretched witches … is there anything else we can do?
Messages came in from the runners. Flying creatures had been seen high in the sky around the coastline. They had stayed out of range of the few archers that were stationed there, flying as far as the fire rocks on the far sunright of the island.
‘Scouts all along the coast have reported them overflying the island in the last few chimes,’ Fitch said. ‘I guess they were looking for a way to avoid a frontal attack.’
‘They won’t have found one,’ Coran said, with a grim smile. ‘Amar’s rocky coastline is one of the few advantages we have.’
‘Guess we’ll see them here soon enough then.’
They didn’t have to wait long. Coran and Fitch were still discussing strategies when they heard yells from outside. They ran from the hall.
Cries of dismay were going up across the city. Coran and Fitch watched as three huge flying reptiles banked and swooped overhead. They stayed at altitude, circling high in the sky.
‘We could send the boy up with his flying machines,’ Fitch muttered. ‘That would give them a nasty surprise.’
‘Let them look,’ Coran said. ‘They can see we’re readying for an assault and that this will be no pushover for them. Might give ’em pause.’
The dachs circled the city a number of times before flying back out to sea once more. They were swift and dwindled to points in the sky before being lost to the distance.
