by Drew Wagar
‘Zoella!’ He turned to his companions in the rear. ‘We go to help her!’
He dropped the machine down, landing it to the rear of the other machine. He ran out, clambering over the wreckage of the other.
‘Zoella? Zoella!’
He could see her through the glass. She was with someone else he didn’t recognise, but both were trapped inside, the door was buckled. He stood up, yanking at the twisted metal, trying to lever it up. With a groaning creak it bent back and Zoella was able to clamber out.
‘Ren!’ she said, pulling him into a hug. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Flying!’ he said, pointing back to the other machine. Dachs screeched overhead. Ren helped the other woman out, staring at her white hair and pink eyes.
‘Like me …’ he said.
‘No time,’ Zoella said. ‘There are others inside. Meru too. He’s hurt, I couldn’t get to him …’
They were interrupted by a huge explosion. Flame burst up into air, debris showered about them and a hot wind almost blew them off the top of the wreckage. They all turned to see that Fitch’s contraption had been blown to pieces. Bits of hot metal and flaming debris clattered down around them.
Ren looked up to see two figures silhouetted against the flames.
Before Zoella could stop him, Ren had launched himself from the broken door and was running towards the figures, a knife in his hand.
Fitch staggered to his feet, batting at his clothing, it was singed, aflame in places, even his hat was smoking. The wretched witch had succeeded in her aim, the siphon was destroyed; a burning inferno behind him. He’d seen her throw the vial and thrown himself at the ground before it went off. The rifle wasn’t far away. He grabbed it, wrestling with it, cursing the third cylinder for mis-firing. He pulled it out, snapping another in its place.
Not gonna save you this time, witch.
The woman had been thrown back by the blast, not anticipating how powerful it would be. She was crawling to her feet, grabbing the staff she carried.
She looked up as he raised the gun, stretching her arms out towards him.
A headache pulsed across his temple, burning and stinging. He grunted, pulling the trigger. The rifle fired.
She was running towards him. He just had presence of mind to raise the rifle to stop the swinging blow of her staff. Twice more he parried, backing away. Then a blow hit his wrist with a sharp crack. Pain lanced up his arm and the rifle fell from his grasp.
He yelled, but before he took another step another blow caught him in the shin, knocking him to his knees. A kick pushed him over on to his back.
The witch was before him, holding her staff ready.
‘Well fought,’ she said.
Fitch looked at her fierce expression and gave a brief nod.
Rihanna landed her dach at the rear of Nerina’s ship.
The defences are down, the flying machines overwhelmed. We can attack the city now.
Nerina nodded, but then she frowned.
She could sense pain, a power and a struggle ahead of her. She squinted through the smoke.
Kiri is in danger. We must go to her. Fly me!
‘Karquesh!’ she called. ‘Now is the time. Lead the attack on the city. We will deal with what little of the defence is left.’
Karquesh nodded, signalling to his men. The ship turned and began heading towards the walls.
Nerina ran back to the dach. Rihanna hoisted her aboard. The dach took off with a mighty down stroke of its huge wings, lunging towards the harbour walls.
Around it the ships of Taloon were now advancing on the stricken city, the soldiers climbing the walls.
Victory will be soon, in more ways than one.
Karquesh’s flagship was rowed in between the flaming piers of the harbour, his men shooting arrows at the failing ranks of defenders. Behind, more ships were following, all surging into the breakwater. Victory was at hand.
‘Sire!’
Karquesh turned to see the mysterious metal ship ahead of them. It was alone, its strange sails crackling with flickering blue discharges like lightning.
It was turning.
With shocking abruptness Karquesh saw the ship lurch, its stern digging down into the water, its prow riding high over the waves. A long metal beam jutted from the bow.
Karquesh stared in horror, unable to utter anything as the massive vessel bore down on his ship. He heard the yells of fright all about him, but he was rooted to the spot.
Wood splintered and smashed about him. He was thrown backwards.
Water, blackness.
The guards and people of Amar had put up a brave fight. Along the harbour walls the ships of Taloon had made themselves fast, soldiers were pouring over them, charging along them and into the city. Coran found himself forced back in the crush, battling forward and backwards with the push of those around him. It was a dirty fight, sword against sword in places, sword against spades and shovels in others.
Above him the dachs were swarming, it seemed the aerial defence had been broken down under overwhelming numbers. Coran had lost sight of them and of Fitch too, but he’d seen the second siphon destroyed. More ships were coming in.
We’re losing, despite all we tried, we’ve failed …
He struck at one of the Taloon soldiers, his sword grating through bones and into flesh. Yells and shouts were all around him, yet still they were pushed back. The walls were lost, overwhelmed now by the soldiers. More ships remained at sea, closing in.
Coran caught sight of the harbour.
There lay the Mobilis. He could see it was coming about as the Taloon warships rowed their way into the harbour led by what seemed to be their flagship. He could see the wake churning at the back of the ship and, in a moment, knew what Mel had planned.
Against so many …
The Mobilis rushed forwards, smashing the flagship into kindling, riding over it and smashing through a second and a third vessel.
But her speed ebbed with each onslaught. The prow of the Mobilis stuck fast in the fourth ship and held there. Coran saw the Mobilis try to reverse, but it was too late. Soldiers from the ship jumped on to the deck plates of the Mobilis, surging towards the wheelhouse.
More bows and shouts. Coran was borne down to the ground as the press of the fight pushed onwards. He could see nothing but arms and legs, struggling, punching and kicking.
It should be merciful, quick and accurate. The man was gasping, lying before her, helpless.
He deserves as much.
She raised her kai to strike a killing blow.
There was smattering of footsteps from behind her.
‘No!’
Kiri turned, only to find agony burning up her right thigh. She yelled and looked down in shock to see a knife stabbed into it. She fell to the ground as the knife was pulled out. She saw it flash above before it slashed down at her.
‘Die witch!’
A boy!
‘Ren, no!’ someone screamed from behind her.
The boy jabbed the knife down at Kiri. Kiri managed to grab it and stop herself having her throat slit. The boy stabbed down at her again, she caught his wrist, her fingers crushing into his skin, trying to loosen his grasp, but he was stronger than he looked. The knife turned towards her, his weight pressing down. He jammed his knee into her wounded thigh causing her to scream in pain. The knife came down point towards her throat. She struggled to stop it.
She threw her weight to one side, rolling on top of the struggling boy. She lost sight of the knife, crushed somewhere between them as they rolled and struggled.
She managed to catch him beneath her, trying to free the knife so she could throw it away. She felt his wrist snap back in her grip.
He gasped, his hold going slack in her hands. He was staring at her, a thin rivulet of blood dripping from his mouth. He choked.
Voices and visions assaulted her. Words, screams, images.
Like Tia, so sudden, so shocking, blood, always blood, blood everywh
ere!
A vision of Tia’s voice flooded her mind. Her childhood friend, impaled on a sword, slipping to the floor, her eyes staring at nothing …
The boy struggled for a moment and then lay still beneath her. A bloodcurdling shriek filled her ears. She staggered up, her hands slick with blood … but it wasn’t hers. The boy was small, a child, not even a teenager …
She couldn’t focus. Her vision was blurred, her tears blinded with tears.
A child … like Tia …
The scream came again and then a furious pain lashed through her head. Kiri reeled back, falling to the floor. She felt the impact with the ground, but it was nothing compared to the fire in her mind.
Anger, resentment, and immolating fury surged around her, white hot.
Killer! Murderer!
Kiri recognised Zoella’s hate-filled familiarity in her mind. Fragmented images of the boy being cuddled, being hugged, a cheeky smile and an infectious laugh scattered through her mind, followed by another dizzying mental blow. Kiri screamed and twisted on the ground, trying desperately to crawl away.
You killed him! You killed him!
Kiri could not frame a thought. She tried to hold up a hand to defend herself against the barrage, but the onslaught remained ferocious, fuelled by grief and heartbreak.
She sensed Zoella’s own murderous intent, to crush her mind, to destroy her consciousness. She felt her powers weaken as Zoella’s own gift pummelled into her. Around them the nexion fizzed and crackled, both subsumed by the strange influence. Kiri could taste metal in her mouth mixed with the hot taste of blood.
You will not escape this time!
It was the last thing she heard. Zoella’s relentless attack overwhelmed her. The pain and regret in her mind cascaded inwards. Blackness closed around the edges of her vision and she collapsed to the floor, senseless and prone.
Zoella screamed and raged, striking out again and again. Kiri fell before her, Zoella sensed her mind and body crumble under her onslaught. She clenched her fists, ready to administer the final blow, to strike down her hated sister, once and for all.
Rage and grief consumed her. Kiri had killed again. Ren.
No mercy!
She struck, using the same mental technique she’d learned in the high pass of the frozen wastes to crush a mind. She pummelled down on Kiri’s unconscious mind, aiming to mash it out of existence.
But her mental blow was turned aside.
A dach dropped out of the swirling smoke. She heard Ira scream from alongside her. Two figures dropped down before her, arms outstretched.
Who are you, girl?
The first figure was dressed all in black, only her hair showed a narrow streak of silver. Zoella recognised her. Nerina, the high priestess herself, she who had launched the attack on Viresia. By her side was another priestess she had seen before, with distinctive blood-red hair.
Those that came with Kiri at Viresia!
In her wrath, Zoella struck out at both of them, but her blasts of mental fury were blocked by an imperious gesture from the high priestess.
So. You are the maid, the maid from Viresia!
She could sense what they wanted. They were here to steal what gifts they could; rich pickings from the devastation all about.
An image of the flying machine burst into her mind and she was grabbed from behind.
It was Fitch.
Zoella was yanked backwards.
‘Ren …’
Another yank. She was running, Fitch was pulling her away, past the downed dach, past the wreckage of the flying machine and towards the other one. Zoella could see Ira and the children clustered around it, Meru’s unconscious body hauled between them.
A single thought entered her head.
I can save them …
A mad scramble had them aboard the second machine. Zoella tried to remember what Meru had done to make the machine fly as she strapped herself into place.
‘Sandra,’ she yelled. ‘Start launch procedure!’
A blast of mental pain shattered her thoughts. She reeled, feeling the priestesses’ thoughts nearby. She looked up to see them before the flying machine, arms outstretched. Next to her, Ira had her own arm outstretched, wrestling with them. The engines of the flying machine whirled into life.
The pain in Zoella’s head lessened. She yanked on the controls and the flying machine lurched into the air, rolled and bucked before making headway, turning inland and across the city.
Kiri was barely conscious. The pain in her head was gone, but she could feel her body trembling with the aftershock. Her body convulsed with the hurt of her other wounds.
She opened her eyes. She could see the stone paving of the harbour wall before her, flames still rising in the distance, smoke wafting across her. Of Zoella and the others there was no sign. She frowned in confusion.
Footsteps echoed somewhere close by, heels clicking on the stone.
‘Just in time it would seem,’ said a voice.
Kiri moaned, trying to crawl to her knees. The voice was Nerina’s.
She managed to look up. Nerina was standing before her, with arms folded, looking down at her with an unreadable expression on her face.
‘Nerina,’ she croaked.
Nerina knelt down, extending her hand towards Kiri. Kiri moved to take it.
Nerina swept it out of the way and dealt Kiri a fierce blow across the face. Kiri yelped and fell back to the ground.
‘You stole the queen’s power,’ Nerina snarled. ‘You set the Scallian girl free against my wishes …’
Kiri’s eyes widened as she remembered Gemma. She’d left her in the mountains on the borders.
What happened to her?
‘Yes,’ Nerina said, seeing the look on her face. ‘Her name was Gemma. You didn’t succeed. She’s dead.’
Kiri gasped. ‘No … but …’
‘Then you hid the maid’s power from me,’ Nerina continued. ‘Lie upon lie, upon lie.’
Kiri gritted her teeth against the pain. Her leg was agony, her face stinging and her arm hung useless. Blood loss was sapping her strength.
‘And then you plotted to overthrow me,’ Nerina said, her voice twisting into a laugh. ‘Thinking that you would be high priestess in my stead. But I had the measure of you long before you even began your rebellious thoughts, young one. All this while you have been doing my bidding, not your own.’
Kiri was shaking her head, trying to clear it.
‘You grew arrogant and cocky,’ Nerina said. ‘Such traits have their use, but now it is time for you to fulfil the purpose I spared you for. I didn’t save you because of Charis, I saved you for me.’
Kiri saw Rihanna step out from behind Nerina, her hands raised. Hope flared in Kiri’s mind.
Together …
Now Rihanna, now!
Kiri somehow staggered to her feet, thrusting outwards with the fading reserves of her mental strength. She looked over to Rihanna. The girl stepped forward, her own hands raised towards …
… her.
She found her arms wrenched down to her sides. Her legs gave way and she fell to her knees, shock and betrayal burning in her heart. Fresh agony burnt up through her.
Nerina smiled down at her.
‘Oh, such naivety is touching to behold,’ Nerina said, her voice mocking. ‘Rihanna was never your friend, Kiri. She’s been my servant throughout it all.’
Kiri looked at Rihanna, hope dying as Rihanna’s face twisted into a hate-filled sneer.
‘Yes guttersnipe,’ Rihanna spat the words. ‘You were right, you have been fattened for the harvest. Yes, I told Nerina everything you told me … and the Scallian girl is dead because of me. You should have torn her yourself, she might still be alive now.’
‘No …’ Kiri said, despair and anger burning through the last of her strength, she slumped forward on to her hands and knees.
Nerina grabbed her by the chin, pulling her head around. Kiri looked up into her cold, dark eyes. Behind her she cou
ld see the soldiers of Taloon climbing the walls of the city, it seemed the battle was lost for the Amarans.
Nerina caught her look.
‘Yes, our victory is at hand,’ she said. ‘My victory, not yours.’
Kiri struggled in vain. She grabbed at Nerina’s arms, but she couldn’t break her hold.
‘And now, at last, I will take your gift,’ Nerina said. ‘Oh … but don’t you worry, you will serve the priestesses well for the rest of your life. Merrin has need of a scullery maid, a wench … or a whipping girl.’
Nerina’s fingers probed around Kiri’s face, strengthening their hold. Kiri could already feel the numbing sensation that preceded the tearing. Nerina was too strong, there was no way she could resist.
Her mind screamed out as she felt her powers about to drain away.
But there was another power, indifferent and unconcerned with the petty squabbles taking place far below it. Far beyond the boundaries of what the priestesses, the Amarans or the soldiers of Taloon could comprehend, primal forces were stirring once again. Indefatigable, irresistible, it glowered down upon those assembled below. Some thought it a force of nature, others a vengeful goddess. Regardless of what it was, it made its influence felt, awesome in its unleashed fury.
Above the battle, Lacaille blazed in the sky. Not even the ancient settlers of Esurio had fully mapped its moods and behaviours. It had unseated them long ago with its mercurial temperament, bringing their age of machines and technology crashing down about them.
No darkness warned of the wrath to come this time. Lacaille had her own store of woes and sorrows to inflict upon Esurio.
With shocking abruptness Lacaille’s fury was unleashed.
Coran saw it coming. The blue tinge in the sky; the sudden whiteness of the light.
He’d forced his way back to his feet in the press of people.
‘Flares!’ he yelled. ‘Flares!’
Others about him, those of Taloon and Amar alike had noticed the abrupt change in the sky. A blast of heat rippled across them. In horror Coran saw a wave of fire rippling across the horizon out to sea beyond the harbour. As he watched, it raced towards them, the wooden ships consumed like the paper boats that the children of the city made to sail in the ponds. They flashed into fire and smoke.
