by JMD Reid
The rider turned, not bothering to witness her death, and hacked at another sailor. Ary knew he should focus on fighting, but Ahneil’s eyes caught his. She stared at him, her mouth working as she tried to speak, but only bloody coughs escaped her lips. Her slanted eyes caught his, glossy with pain.
“Thank you,” he groaned, not sure what else to say. Tears burned his eyes. Guilt stabbed him for not being able to return her love. But his words relaxed her. Something flickered across her face. Peace. She let out a final, bloody exhalation.
The fight left her body. Her eyes closed. Her coughs ended.
Just like Srias’s had.
Ary remembered the taste of her lips. A fiery anger swelled inside of him, violent winds howling to escape. He gained his feet, gripping his metal sword, and swung at the armored monster who killed her.
“Stormwall!”
~ * * ~
Chaylene glanced down at the chaos on the deck. Ary fought a Stormrider with one of their own weapons over the corpse of a marine. Ahneil. Chaylene couldn’t pretend to like the woman, a part of her hated Ahneil, but she never desired to see her dead, her blood spilled out across the deck, eyes sightless.
“May Riasruo take your soul into her loving bosom,” Chaylene prayed. Then she found another Rider to kill.
The circling Stormriders’ numbers thinned as the Dauntless neared the Eye. The golden heart of the Cyclone lay ahead, beating with pulses of lightning—the engine that powered the massive maelstrom. But while the Riders dwindled in the skies around the Dauntless, plenty were on the deck, wrecking havoc, fighting towards the Windwardens guarded by the hulking Zzuk auxiliaries. The Windwardens had to be protected at all cost—their Major Wind kept the Cyclone’s ferocity from ripping the Dauntless into kindling. Black clouds slammed into the bubble of calm air projected about the ship. The clouds broke apart and howled around them.
Off to port, the Adventurous kept pace with the Dauntless, a few Stormriders fighting on the deck of the larger vessel. The frigate flew in the middle of the formation, protected by the Dauntless and the Spirituous, which floundered as the Cyclone buffeted the ship. The Spirituous had lost one of their Windwardens. The Riders swarmed thick upon its deck like feasting metal sharks.
“Vel,” she whispered. A confusing welter of emotions filled her as she watched the flagging corvette.
“Chaylene!” Zori yelled, her voice thick with pain.
Her friend crashed into Chaylene then slumped down to the floor of the crow’s nest. An arrow buried into Zori’s side, jutting out from her blue coat. Dark blood flooded across the fabric. Chaylene stared, her body trembling.
“Chaylene,” moaned Zori. “Oh, Riasruo, I think I’m dead.”
“You’re not,” Chaylene said, falling to her knees. The mast jutting through the center of the round crow’s nest made it incredibly tight. She leaned her rifle against it and tended to her friend.
“I can’t believe they killed me.”
“Don’t move, Zori.” Chaylene pulled off her own coat, then ripped at the sleeve of her linen shirt, tearing free the stitching at the shoulder. “You can’t move.”
Her friend’s hand reached for the arrow, grasping the stone shaft. “No!” Chaylene batted Zori’s hand away. “You have to leave it in. Remember?” Lieutenant Jhoch had lectured all the recruits on basic field medicine. “You’ll bleed out faster if you pull it out!”
“It hurts! The bastards killed me!”
Chaylene pressed her torn sleeve around the arrow and against her friend’s wound, the blood staining through the white linen crimson. She ripped off her other sleeve, bloody from her own wound, and packed it around the arrow. Then she twisted her jacket into a thick cord, lifted the moaning Zori up, and bound her jacket about her friend’s torso to hold the bandage in place, ignoring the gasps and cries that escaped her friend’s lips.
“You’re killing me, too, Chaylene,” Zori moaned. “I don’t wanna die.”
“You won’t. You’re going to be fine.”
“Momma said that. She said she’d be fine. But she wasn’t. She died.” Zori’s eyes closed, sweat beading her forehead. “Momma’s up on the sun. I’m gonna go see her. Her and Amiria.”
Who’s Amiria? “You’re not gonna die.” She squeezed Zori’s hand. “Okay?”
“Momma fell asleep . . .” Zori murmured, her breath slowing. “Fell asleep . . .”
Chaylene couldn’t do anything more for her friend. She wiped the sticky blood staining her hands on her trousers, grabbed her pressure rifle, and stood. As long as Zori moaned, she lived. There was still hope she’d survive.
But only if the Dauntless defeated the Stormriders.
~ * * ~
Ary’s stroke glanced off the Rider’s armor with a clang, leaving a crease in the metal plate.
The Rider grunted and turned to face Ary, his blade stained with Ahneil’s blood. He sent a brutal blow at Ary’s side. Ary slid into his fencing training, his feet falling into a fighter’s stance as he brought the surprisingly light Stormrider’s blade around, parrying the attack. His riposte slammed into the Rider’s breastplate, metal ringing, and the Rider stumbled back, groaning. The blade didn’t bite through the armor, but the dent dug into his chest.
They fenced. The Rider attacked with strong, hacking blows. No finesse. No skill. Just brutal swings. Ary, with a metal sword, could parry and deflect, letting his blade flick out to catch the Rider on the thighs or sides. But it wasn’t doing any good. The armor still protected his enemy. Ary’s training had taught him how to fight an unarmored man, going for easy, disabling attacks. I need a new tactic.
He had to go for the armor’s weaknesses, fight the Rider like he was using a bone sabre. Ary waited for the next attack, an overhand swing. He raised his blade, angling it so the Rider’s attack slid down his sword to the side and past him, then he flicked out at the inside of the enemy’s knee joint before the Rider could recover.
Ary found the meaty thunk and the Rider’s grunt satisfying. His blade came away streaked with red. The Rider stepped forward, and his knee folded out from beneath him. He crashed to the deck face first, armor weighting him down. Black hair spilled out at the back of the helmet. Ary stabbed his weapon down at the Rider’s exposed neck, and blade bit into bone. The Rider gave a spasm then lay still.
Ary jerked his blade. It didn’t come free.
“Theisseg damn it!” He planted his foot on the back of the dead Rider’s back, tightened his grip on the handle, and heaved.
Metal glinted to his left.
Ary’s instincts screamed: “Dive!”
He listened, releasing the stuck weapon’s hilt and throwing himself to the deck. The new Rider’s sword hissed through the air above Ary. He landed on the armored legs of the dead Rider. He groaned, ignoring the fresh bruise throbbing on his lower back as the Rider stabbed again at his guts. He tried to scramble back.
I’m going to die. Chaylene’s smiling face flashed through Ary’s mind.
Strong hands seized Ary, hauling him away. The stabbing sword grazed his right leg, slicing through his trousers and biting into his calf.
“On your feet, Corporal,” the Sergeant-Major roared, letting go of Ary to lunge with his left hand at the Stormrider recovering from his missed thrust. The fierce Agerzak’s open hand struck the Rider’s breastplate. Sparks exploded. The Stormrider collapsed backward to the deck, dropping his blade.
The black-bearded Sergeant turned, holding out his hand to the prone Ary. “I gave you an order, Corporal.”
“Yes, Sergeant-Major,” Ary said, stunned. Ary took the Sergeant-Major’s hand, and the older marine hauled Ary to his feet. His cut calf burned but supported his weight.
“The Riders are after the fore Windwarden. Gather your detachment. We’re clearing the deck of these bastards.”
“Yes, Sergeant-Ma—”
A Stormrider’s arrow erupted from the Sergeant-Major’s bearded throat, the metal point stained dark red. Astonishment flashed a
cross his fierce face as he pitched forward into Ary. His strong hands grabbed hold of Ary’s jacket with an iron grip. Blood gushed from his open mouth, spilling into his wiry beard. His grip relaxed and he crashed to the deck.
The Sergeant-Major spasmed as he died. Ary forced himself to look away. He had his orders.
He picked up the fallen Stormrider’s sword and scanned the deck. The Riders attacked the fore deck defended by a few marines from Detachment Two and a Zzuki warrior. A second hulking lizardman lay in a crumpled heap before Lieutenant Tharele, the fore Windwarden. She crouched at the bow, her eyes closed as she fought the Cyclone’s ferocity with Major Wind, protecting the ship. The fore ballistae were silent. The bodies of Ailsuimnae and her crew littered the deck, cut down by the enemy.
“Detachment One!” Ary bellowed.
“Corporal,” Estan panted, carrying his own Rider’s sword, blood smeared across the front of his jacket.
“Ary,” Guts panted, his red eyes distant.
“We’re sweeping the bastards from the ship.” Ary pointed at the Riders at the bow.
“Stormwall,” Estan growled.
Ary led the charge. His calf burned but he could run. Their boots pounded on the wooden deck, stepping over the carnage the Riders had left in their wake. They couldn’t let Lieutenant Tharele die. The Dauntless would not meet the Intrepid’s fate.
“Stormwall!” the three marines bellowed.
Ary raised his metal sword over his head and slashed at a Stormrider’s back. Angry heat bubbled in Ary. These monsters killed Ahneil, Inabron, Bruth, the Sergeant-Major, Ailsuimnae, and even Xoshia. His crewmates. The fire of his rage burned through Ary. His sword cut through the Rider’s metal backplate without any effort. His enemy flopped forward to the deck with a violent clang, limbs flopping as crimson life poured out of the melted rent in the Rider’s armor.
Guts crashed into his Stormrider, landing a punch on the enemy’s armored back, sparks bursting, showering hot on the big marine. Estan lunged forward with his blade. The point pierced through a third Rider’s neck.
Five more Riders fought on the stern deck, held off by the ferocity of Shwaazth, the lone surviving Zzuki warrior, and Corporal Xarene, blood sheeting her face. The hulking Shwaazth swung her club in wild arcs, her left arm hanging half-severed, held on by sinew. She hissed in her language, standing proud. Numerous cuts and rents marred her bright-blue scales and yellow underbelly. Ary didn’t know how she possessed the strength to hold off the Stormriders as thick blood poured from her maimed arm.
Two of the Stormriders broke from the attack, hearing the marines approach. They moved to hold the pair of small stairs that led up to the higher fore deck. Ary, Guts, and Estan would have to fight up the stairs to aid Corporal Xarene and Shwaazth.
“Guts, take the port stairs,” barked Ary. “Estan, follow me.”
“I’ll show these bastards.” Guts grabbed the helm of the fallen Stormrider and hurled it in the face of the enemy defending the ports stairs. The big marine charged behind his improvised missile. He met the enemy, and the pair grappled.
Guts bellowed in pain.
Ary assaulted the starboard stairs. The Rider at the top swung his blade at Ary’s head. He parried, turning his blade and whipping the metal sword at the Rider’s armored shins, aiming for the gap at the ankle. The Rider shifted, and Ary’s blade found armor instead of flesh.
Dazzling sunlight flooded the Dauntless.
The ship had entered the calm around the Eye, the empty, circular space surrounded by the black-gray walls of the Cyclone. In the center hung the glowing, pulsing Eye—the engine powering the tempest. The Dauntless’s goal. Destroy it, and they’d win.
Riasruo, please, shine upon us.
The Rider guarding the starboard stairs slashed his sword in a downward arc at Ary’s head. He raised his sword to parry. Lightning pulsed from the shining Eye into the Cyclone’s black rage.
Ary floated away into darkness.
Chapter Forty-One
The shining Luastria hung before Ary at the dark void, linked to it. Her songs of agony filled the non-space every time the chains wrapped about her feathered body pulsed white-yellow.
“Free me!” she screamed, wrenching at Ary’s heart. No being deserved the torment she suffered.
Ary wasn’t sure if he floated closer or the Luastria moved nearer. He wasn’t even sure if he possessed a body here.
“Please. Free me. End my pain. Have I not given enough? Why did you betray me, Iiwroa?”
“Who is Iiwroa?” The name was so familiar to Ary.
“Free me. Please!”
He stared at the chain. He’d tried to break the chains as a child and failed. Could he succeed now? As a child, he hadn’t been able to endure the pain. But he was a grown man, an Autonomy Marine. He could withstand it. Energy hummed from the chain. The hairs on Ary’s non-body stood up, his skin prickling.
He grasped the restraints.
Agony filled him. His body drank it in like a man dying of thirst gulps down water. It suffused him. His bones became molten wax. His blood, boiling water. His flesh, roasting meat. He pulled at the chain, fighting to ignore the fire consuming his non-body.
Agony wrapped about his mind. His hands screamed at him to release the chain. He battled his instincts to escape the pain. He had to free this creature. She didn’t deserve to suffer this torment. He grasped only one of the twelve chains. Only one. She suffered twelvefold the torment he did.
He had to free her.
The chain was harder than wood, than bone. Stronger than stone. Tougher than metal. Tears sizzled on his cheeks. His screams joined the Luastria’s. His thoughts vanished, swallowed by an eternity of agony.
The pain became too much. He was only flesh.
Ary sobbed for an eternity when he let go of the chain. “I’m sorry.”
“Make it stop! End my agony!”
The darkness vanished.
~ * * ~
Ary blinked, his sword held up before him.
A jarring blow rang through his arm. The Stormrider’s blade connected with his.
Ary didn’t hold his weapon properly. The impact shivered down the blade and into the bones of his hand and arm. His fingers fuzzed numb. The sword fell from his loose grasp. Confusion fogged his mind. He was back in his body standing on the starboard stairs to the fore deck. The eternity of torment he suffered clutching the chain, drinking in the agony, had lasted but a mere heartbeat.
The Rider drew back his blade to finish off Ary.
Chaylene’s face flashed through his thoughts. He had only one chance to survive.
His charge gathered in his right hand. He bent his knees, and sprang at the Rider. He had to slip beneath his enemy’s attack. The blade swung as he ducked under it, his right hand outstretched. The sword’s edge hilt struck his back. His right hand touched the Rider’s knee. He discharged. Sparks exploded. The Rider’s corpse toppled forward, crashing onto Ary’s back before sliding off him to fall down the stairs.
“Riasruo!” Estan cursed. Ary forgot his friend was behind him. Metal crashed as the Rider struck Estan, carrying both to the well deck in a heap.
Ary ignored the ache in his back and grabbed his fallen sword. Out of his disorientation rose purpose. The Riders needed to be swept clear of the deck before they overwhelmed Corporal Xarene and Shwaazth. The hulking Zzuki warrior’s blows staggered, her steps growing sluggish as her blood pumped out of the stump of her severed arm.
Ary forced his feet to move. He climbed up the stairs and gained the fore deck, the shining light from the Eye warming his face. The Zzuk warrior attacked with her club. She swayed, carried off-balance by her hard swing, and crashed into the deck soaked with her blood. Beside her, Corporal Xarene dodged a Rider’s sword strike, the blade missing the marine by a fingerswidth. She stepped on Shwaazth’s leg, her foot rolling, and she crashed to the deck.
The Rider impaled her in the guts.
No one defended the Windwarden.
>
“Stormwall!” Ary roared, lunging at the back of a Stormrider.
The Rider turned, crying out in his harsh language. Metal clinked as he slipped into a stance. His blade flicked out and knocked Ary’s attack to the side. A second Rider turned to face Ary while the third advanced on Lieutenant Tharele.
Ary fell into a fighting stance, holding his sword out low before the two Riders. For a moment, no one moved. But he couldn’t stand still. He had to attack and save Lieutenant Tharele. Beyond the pair of Riders, the Windwarden drew her bone sabre, her expression paling as she faced the third one alone. Ary had to defeat the two Riders before him.
He whipped his sword at the right Stormrider’s knee joint. He needed to disable his enemies as fast as possible. The left Rider’s sword sliced at Ary’s leg, forcing him to jump back. He dodged the attack, but his own swipe also missed. The Riders advanced. He glanced behind him. He had little room to retreat.
The third Rider cut Lieutenant Tharele’s bone sabre in half.
Fear clutched at Ary. This was how the Intrepid had crashed. The Stormriders killed the ship’s Windwardens, leaving it to the Cyclone’s mercy.
“Stormwall!” he bellowed.
Both the Riders facing Ary attacked, their swords cutting in from two directions. I’m dead.
He raised his sword to parry the attack coming from his right and moved his body, hoping that the other Rider would somehow miss. Time slowed to a crawl. He could almost see his survival, a narrow passage he might squeeze through. He acted, parrying the first blow. He used the momentum to spin around and catch the second Rider’s blade and—
He moved too slow.
A hiss whizzed over his shoulder. Metal rang, deep and loud. The left Rider stumbled as Ary parried the other’s blade. Blood streamed from a plum-sized hole in the Rider’s breastplate. He stumbled back, dropping his sword before it could find Ary’s flesh.
“Stormwall!” a woman shouted from the rigging. Chaylene. Triumph surged in his heart. His wife still lived.
