by Jez Cajiao
I’d gotten a group of volunteers to stand around, looking busy while wearing their slave collars again. The collars were unpowered and unlocked, but it was impossible to tell that from a distance.
“Okay, guys, oh and girls, sorry,” I said, making the crappiest possible start to a rousing speech in history. “We’ve got a chance to protect our home here, and we’re going to take it. All you have to do is get to your defenses, use the weapons you’ve got, and not die, okay? We’ll take care of as much as we can.”
There was silence for a few seconds until Barrett strode forward to stand beside me, turning to address both teams with a sigh.
“So, we now know he’s no speech maker, for sure. Right, people! You’ve got two choices, and you’ve made them already, so suck it up! You joined the Great Tower Military, you all swore to serve Lord Jax, and this is the first time you can prove what you are and why he should give a shit if you want to bring your families here! He saved us, he damn well nearly died for us, and what’s anyone else ever done for you? Your old Lord sold you to a fucking SporeMother! Your new one killed it and set you free! Who else is ever going to stand up and face something like that for the likes of us? Kill those asshats that are coming, and we can go get our families and bring them somewhere safe. He’s even given Arrin a damn Spellbook! Now he’s offering more, and all we’ve got to do is kill the men that are coming to kill us and literally not die. That’s it! Survive, people, and I bet that fucking ship is loaded with booze!”
That got a round of weak smiles from them, and I clapped Barrett on the shoulder before sending them to their positions to get ready. I’d never led people before. The thought of standing up and giving a speech had made me panic as a kid, and I was asking these people to die for me. No, I was ordering them to die for me. I resolved to put some more points into goddamn Charisma as soon as possible.
As the two teams filed out of the hall, Oracle rode out of the stairwell on Bob’s head and gave me a merry little wave. Bob lumbered over to the ropes we’d strung under the marshalling yard, then slowly lowered himself and Oracle over the side, hiding as well as he could. We needed the soldiers to land here, but we also really needed them to not escape once we had them. Bob and Oracle were in charge of boarding and securing the ship, preferably with as little damage as possible.
My job was much simpler, and yet so much more complicated. I needed to get them to land, and thanks to my snazzy new armor, I hoped I had that in the bag. After that, I just needed to convince them to follow me inside… and then kill them all. I walked back and forth for half an hour before Seneschal got in touch. His message was simple.
“Jax, they’re here.”
I didn’t answer him. I just walked out into the open air, squeezing past the rear of Oren’s ship to emerge onto the balcony. The ship wasn’t hard to spot, maybe ten miles out and coming straight at us. As it got closer, I could make out more details. The ship looked exactly as Oren had described it, a damn shark of the skies.
It had sails that looked like fins extended to the left and right, with a high rear sail. Cannons were rolled out on the decks. On either side engines flared, and easily two dozen soldiers stood armed and ready on the deck. In the middle of the ship were two large cages, each filled with slaves. Behind them in the center of the raised rear deck, stood five people.
They appeared to be the captain, the navigator‒due to the giant wheel he maneuvered‒and three others, two in heavy armor and one in bright white robes that reflected the sunlight. I assumed these were the elites of the ship, a mage and two melee types. The captain lifted something that reflected the sun, and I grimaced. A spyglass. The fecker was looking at me and examining the landing area. I waved at them and pointed at the space, then turned and began to walk back inside, as though uninterested in them.
“Kick me,” whispered a voice from my left, and I looked over at Cai. He’d volunteered for the ‘slaves’ group to make it look more natural.
“What?” I asked him, confused.
“Kick me! They all think we’re less than shit. Show that you’re one of them, quick!”
I paused for a heartbeat, then gritted my teeth and shoved him hard against the side of the ship, gesturing at the weapons scattered around him. I gesticulated wildly, then hauled him over to the side of the balcony as though I was going to throw him off.
“Break free and run inside, quick!” I said, and he did.
I grabbed a spare throwing knife and drew back as if to throw it, before sheathing it and running after him. The remaining slaves all quickly moved out of sight as well, their deception complete.
Behind us, I saw the ship coming in for a landing, and I grinned, calling my thanks after Cai as he led his people to the nearest stairwell. He waved and called back.
“Good luck!”
With that, it began: the final fight for the Great Tower of Dravith.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Torin ‘Ek Thun, captain of the Cruiser ‘Agamemnon’s Wrath,’ narrowed the distance to the Great Tower of Dravith with a sigh of irritation. It’d taken all his considerable skill as one of the premier Airship captains in the fleet to get just enough damage to be able to retreat for repairs from the border skirmish with Narkolt. It had looked serious, but it hadn’t been enough to actually put him at risk. He’d recognized it for the boon it was immediately and had pulled back to their home city of Himnel, and what did he find on arrival?
Not the welcome deserving of a brave Airship captain who’d been risking his life for the glory of Himnel. Oh, no. All he got was a gaggle of scruffy, dirty, smelly engineers on his ship, and an order to protect the City Lord’s emissary!
It was intolerable. Little more than peasants had been walking about his ship with impunity when they departed! He’d soon taught them manners, but even now, they interrupted his sleep at all hours, banging and clattering, as if they couldn’t carry out his repairs and upgrades without making noise.
They were doing it just to spite him, Torin decided. It was the only reasonable answer. He’d make an example of another one of them today. Give one of them as a gift to the advance team to include with the slaves being bartered to whoever ruled here.
A whimper from behind him broke him out of his contemplation, and he looked over his shoulder at the young man chained to the back post of the deck. Blood seeping from the numerous crisscrossing whip marks on his back and buttocks was washed away by the light drizzle. The precipitation made his decks slippery, even as they shone with reflected light from the swinging, bouncing lanterns.
The boy had been the first he had broken, initially by whip. He’d started beating the lad in front of the captives of that pathetic little village, and then again in his cabin. It had almost made this diversion worthy of his time, and it truly would be, once he received his pay and sold his bounty from this trip.
The smells and cries of the captives contaminated the deck of his once pristine ship, but he’d had to leave the battle without the chance to capture any slaves, and commissions like his were expensive. He’d had to recoup the cost somehow. Especially after the pathetic tribute they’d offered him when he landed.
No, the young men and women of the village, interspersed with a few more skilled older villagers he would capture on his way back, would allow him to turn a nice profit. It was his due, after all. He and his men risked their lives to protect the land, even simple unaligned villages like theirs, so why shouldn’t they take an occasional ‘tax’ for their bravery?
He’d even allowed a few of the crew to enjoy the captives. Some of the them had refused, and one had even spoken out against him, but there were always dissenters, and the rest of the crew had learned their place when the first was ‘set free’ to walk the clouds. Now the crew were clearly separated out, dissenters below decks scrubbing and helping the engineers, while the rest flew his ship and reveled in their places.
“How long until we land?” asked the mage, Reyt, gliding over to stand beside Torin. His gleaming w
hite robes marked him out as a Light Magi. His escort stomped along behind him. Their heavy armor gleamed in the rain, with the symbol of the Light glimmering from its home, etched into the center of each breastplate.
“Well, Jory? You heard the Magi’s question; how long?” Torin barked at his helmsman.
“Mebbe half an hour, m’lord,” Jory replied, tugging his cap and half bowing in respect to them both before turning back to the wheel. “We need to circle the Tower, see if we can spot a better landing site. Looks like Oren has gone in too fast and too hard. He’ll have a devil of a time getting out of the Tower, by the look of things!”
“No, land there.” The Magi stated coldly, gesturing at the open marshalling yard as it rapidly approached.
“But m’lord, we don’t know if there’s damage to the Tower. It might not hold…” His words were broken off as one of the guards stepped forward and backhanded the helmsman across the mouth, making him stagger and spit blood, thanks to the heavy gauntlets the man wore.
The entire ship lurched to one side before Jory managed to right it, and he ducked his head in fear of a second blow.
“The Magi gave you an order, worm. Do it!” The soldier snarled, stomping back to his place behind his master. There were several tense seconds during which Jory and Torin waited to see if anything else would be said before the helmsman began the approach the designated landing site.
“Now, Reyt, perhaps your men could refrain from beating the helmsman when he has the helm? Perhaps allow me to summon another to take his place first.” Torin said offhandedly to the Magi, who nodded curtly.
“Of course, Captain, my apologies. My man simply wanted to make sure your order was obeyed immediately. After all, you did say last night that we were to land and complete this with all possible haste? And did we not just see Lucius directing us to land there? I assure you, my lord captain, Lucius would not show himself so blatantly unless the area was already secure.” Reyt replied with an oily smile as he blatantly ignored the veiled suggestion that his man had done anything wrong.
◆◆◆
“We…we will be landed in mebbe ten minutes, then, m’lord…” Jory quavered around an already swelling lip. Blood dripped from his chin onto his tunic, his old hands shaking where he gripped the wheel and prayed to survive another trip. Just get home one more time, you old fool, then jump ship; better to starve in the city than this… Jory thought to himself.
As the marshalling yard grew closer, the crew began rushing from position to position, frantically pulling lines, hauling in the sails and making ready. Reyt ordered his soldiers to prepare to deploy, all two dozen or so of them forming up in an approximation of attention. It was as close as they could manage, the mercenary scum that they are… thought Jory, blinking tears away as he concentrated on landing the huge ship. The engines flared as he pulled levers and caressed the activation runes for the landing gear with hands that shook and ached. Joints swollen with age and rheumatism were made young again as he felt the power of the ship responding to his will.
At last, the ship settled down on the designated landing area lightly, with barely a bump to show she was no longer free to soar the skies. Instead, her engines powered down as she became bound by gravity again. Jory sighed as he caressed the last symbols, sending the engines into standby. He knew he’d miss this; it’d been his life for so long after all, but with captains like Torin... I’d rather starve… he confirmed to himself, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders as the decision was made.
“Why are the engines still drawing mana?” Torin snapped at him, and Jory squeezed his eyes shut before responding.
“Well, Lord Captain, if the dock gives way and the engines are dead, it’d take long minutes to re-fire them, but from standby, it only takes seconds. Plus, the cost in mana is small, so I thought…”
“Well it’s costing ME, not you! Turn them off. You heard the Magi; this area is secure!” With that, the captain stomped off down the deck and headed towards his cabin as the Magi and his men went to join their soldiers.
Jory stood there for long seconds, knowing it was a mistake, but eventually, he gave in to the orders. With a wince, he powered the engines down fully, allowing the ship’s true weight to settle on its landing struts. There were a few groans from the metal and a crunching sound of stone settling, then nothing, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Madness to power down the engines fully. Utter madness… But he was only a helmsman, and after Gimil had spoken out and been thrown from the ship… or worse, he could end up like the poor sods in the cages… No, better to starve. Just get through and get back to the city. You can lose yourself there… he reaffirmed to himself.
◆◆◆
I grinned to myself as the ship settled behind the remnants of Oren’s ship. One hurdle down. Time to move back before they spotted me.
The gangplank slammed down and men and women streamed off, all human. As I watched through my concealed gap, I saw at least one conversation with Oren was confirmed; these assholes were seriously against the ‘lesser races,’ as Oren had said they called other species. The soldiers ran and stumbled down the wooden causeway, making it shift and bounce under their feet. As they reached the ground, they split off to either side, forming up into a sloppy honor guard for the man I’d seen on the raised deck. He strode down, white robes flapping in the constant breeze at this altitude. His two heavy soldiers flanked him.
The captain spoke to the white robed man for several minutes before joining him. It appeared that the rest of the crew had been instructed to wait aboard the ship. The soldiers began to file across the marshalling yard and into the Tower, edging around the rear of Oren’s ship to enter one at a time. While they were busy making their way in, a flash of movement darted around the rear of the ship, and I grinned. Oracle was off and heading to the first engine.
Oren had spent hours going over the design of these ships, explaining where the weak and strong points were, how the engines came already assembled, and that only Artificers from the Airships Guild could make changes to them. In their rush to maintain their monopoly over this technology, however, they’d made a grave error. They’d put a dead man’s switch on each one. If the engine housing was opened, the script powering it would die, taking hours to recalibrate, if it could be made to work again at all. Warships therefore carried spare engines, and most ran on at least fifty percent more engines than they needed to stay aloft, in case of damage.
What nobody seemed to have considered, though, presumably because the tech was so new, was what happened if someone simply opened all the engine housings up…Oracle landed on one of them and gave me a wave before disappearing.
“Come on, girl, you can do it!” I muttered to myself, glancing back and forth between the ship’s engines and the soldiers that slowly made their way inside the tower. They obviously couldn’t see properly in the dark, so they bunched up around the entrance, making it harder for others to get in as they passed the choke point. They only needed to go another dozen feet, and they’d be able to see the truth of the ship: it was only the rear section, made to look like it’d landed and somehow slid into the tower too deeply by accident.
I knew it wasn’t a great disguise, and any real examination would show it up easily enough, but the thing that people forgot was that they were assholes. Assholes never looked too closely; they always just saw what they expected to see and plodded on. All I had to do was hope that they were all assholes. The thing was, I needed that ship grounded. If it took off and decided to stand back and pound us, there was little I could do, so I had to wait until Oracle had incapacitated their engines.
Maybe thirty seconds passed, and two more men had clambered inside, when I felt Oracle reach out to me.
“Jax!”
“Yeah, Oracle? Give me good news, baby!”
“Done! The first engine is dead, and I’m moving onto the second. Should be quicker now that I know what I’m looking for!”
> “Brilliant! Okay, let me know when you’ve got four of them down, and then we can start!”
“Going as fast as I can!”
The sense of her in my mind dissipated and I crept forward. I’d deliberately had the golems pile up the debris on this floor in strange patterns. Some areas were higher on one side than the other. One small wall had a hole that led straight down to the next floor on its far side, but the hole was big enough that anyone trying to cross over would have to really jump to clear it. Other sections provided cover for me as I moved closer and closer, catching the nervous whispers of the men as they gathered together.
I’d also had Oren and a couple of his more skilled men help me in making traps, including a little more tinkering with the needle trap I’d recovered from the trapped chest. That particular one was set into a mound of rubble at the top, right in front of Oren’s ship. I planned for the soldiers to find the trap one way or another and hopefully decide that it was best not to climb over the rubble.
As a last surprise, I’d made some sections of the floor into deep indentations and filled them with water. One of the puddles was covering the area they were standing in now, and I could hear the splashes as they moved, the clatter of weapons and whispering and throat clearing of nervous people.
After another minute or so, I got a heads up from Oracle as I slid into place behind a low mound of stone.
“That’s three, Jax! One more to go!”
Then she was gone again, and I could hear someone swearing at the soldiers to move, followed by a clang as someone hit a metal helm with a gauntleted fist. The Elites were forcing their way in and making the soldiers spread out more.
“Lucius!” A voice called out, and one of the heavily armed soldiers clanked into view, a bright light growing behind him as the mage moved inside as well. “Where are you, you bloody fool!” the same voice bellowed.
