“Huon…! Huon…!” William screamed after them with wild elation in his eyes and a bloody sword held high over his head.
“Now there’s a thing I’ve never seen in all my days,” Randwick mused softly from a discreet distance, taking a moment to catch his breath in the aftermath of battle and regarded Nev with a thoughtful gaze.
“Dragonfall take me, she was incredible…!” Godfrey breathed, standing close by with nothing but awe in both his voice and gaze. “Incredible…!”
“Aye, that she was lad,” the old man nodded, his tone betraying an underlying concern as he considered the mass of torn and broken bodies lying before them, “but at what cost…?”
For her part, Nev heard none of it. Standing at the centre of a ring of ruined bodies with her clothes and face drenched in others’ blood, she could barely move as the rage continued to burn within her. Eyes wide and chest heaving with surplus adrenalin, she was almost rigid with tension as Dragonfire continued to flow unchecked through her mind and body.
This ‘victory’ means nothing…! The words came to her once more, as deafening in her mind as usual, righteous and enraged but for the first time there was also the hint of fear behind it.
The first of many… Nev replied with confidence now as she reached down without thinking and pinched a section of her cloak between two fingers, using it to clean her katana as she drew the bloody blade carefully between them.
It means nothing…! It roared, so powerful now that for a moment she feared she might lose her mind.
I’m going to kill you…!
I am ageless; a devourer of worlds!
…And I’m going to make you choke on this one…! She replied darkly, still seething with the rage of battle as she sheathed the weapon, yet also vaguely heartened in that moment in now in the realisation that whatever it was, it was frightened of her. Everything dies… she added with a shrug …and you will too.
Do you think that swords are the best that I can do…? It asked smugly, and those last words flared in Nev’s subconscious as the connection was lost, replaced by a flash image at the forefront of her mind of what was coming. She realised then that it had been stalling… playing for time until the final pieces of its endgame were in place.
The first shell exploded without warning, falling short by a few hundred metres and bursting amid the trees near the bend in Stewpot Road, the blast shattering trunks and sending splintered branches spiralling away in all directions.
“More incoming…” Nev stated blankly, eyes barely focused as she glanced around at the rest of them. “Gather the horses,” she growled softly, turning back toward the north. “I’ll hold them as long as I can…”
Godfrey didn’t argue this time. The look she’d given them all had been enough to show she was deadly serious, and he was still too much in awe of what he’d just seen to even think about disobeying. Even William gave no resistance this time, already feeling weak and struggling as he was with the pain radiating from his damaged collar bone. The pair turned together and jogged back toward the log barricades, veering off in separate directions as they made for the nearest of a number of riderless horses standing about, grazing mindlessly now the battle was done.
Randwick coughed softly, thinking for just a moment that he might reason with her – try to bring her with him in retreat – but the single glare he received over her shoulder in return silenced him completely as Dragonfire again flared into life around the palm of her left hand. Instead, he did exactly as she’d ordered – for an order was exactly what it’d been – and he too loped off up the rise behind the others, struggling with a pronounced limp and using his staff for support.
A second shell also fell short, but closer now as earth and grass sprayed skyward, falling around her as she was buffeted by the heat and force of the blast. Following right behind it, the third shell was on target and Nev could see it in her mind, striking the ground not two metres in front of her in a gout of flame and smoke and a huge upheaval of earth. There was no way she’d let that happen.
She could still feel power coursing through the crystal in her left hand, the rawness of it filling her with a restless energy that seemed almost to be searching for an outlet as if operating with its own free will. She flicked her eyes upward, reaching out through the raucous background clutter of countless minds and singling out the incoming shell, the hurtling iron ball a brilliant spark of light in a faint and endless field of stars. With a grunt of frustrated rage, she reached upward once more with her left hand and flicked it angrily to one side, the crackle of Dragonfire flaring brightly for a moment at her fingertips and arcing away into the sky as she brought her arm sharply back to her side once more.
Still a thousand metres away and hurtling through a smoke-laden sky, the thirty-two pound shell was suddenly snatched out of its downward ballistic arc and slapped sideways, veering away to the west so sharply it was almost as if it had ricocheted from some invisible, impenetrable wall. Leaving a shriek of displaced air in its wake, it slammed into the ground to one side of the Stewpot Road, still at least five hundred metres short of its original intended target. There was a roar and a huge upheaval of earth as shrapnel filled the air around it, killing at least half a dozen Blackwatch archers as they continued their headlong retreat away from the heat of battle and that deadly witch’s blade.
“Crystal save me, she is a witch!” William breathed softly, having stopped for a moment at the barricades to stare in wild disbelief.
“Witch or no, she’s savin’ our lives and I’d pay more attention to making an escape if I were you, lad!” Randwick barked angrily, his own exasperation boiling over in that moment. “I’ll leave The King in your charge, boy: make sure he’s with us when we leave!”
“Come on, old mate…” Godfrey murmured softly, slipping his arms under Lester’s limp body and lifting it gently over the rear of his horse before proceeding to take a length of thin cord from his saddlebag and tie the boy down. “Sorry for the ropes, mate: I know it ain’t dignified but it’s all I can manage right now…” He was clearly struggling to control his emotions, and it was only the constant, one-way conversation that kept him from losing it altogether. “No place to be left here, is it? Gonna take you home, brother… home for a proper rest somewhere nice…”
“I’ve a mount here, Randwick,” Charleroi called sharply, bow and quiver now stowed across her back as she brought a Blackwatch horse up to the rear wall of the barricades. “I’ll ride with father if you can help me with him…”
“Aye, Your Majesty…” the old man nodded in an instant, giving the young officer beside him a none-too-subtle shove toward where the king still lay, his face almost peaceful now that his pain was no more. “Young William here will see to it…”
“At once, Your Highness!” William blurted nervously, rousing with a start but recovering quickly – to his credit – and leaping forward to lend a hand. “Allow me to lift His Majesty for you…”
Randwick watched her carefully then, taking in every twitch and nervous tic of emotion as Charleroi coldly waited for her father’s body to be lifted over the back of that horse in a similar manner to that which Godfrey had just managed with Lester a moment earlier. He’d known her most of her life and he knew exactly how much it must’ve been tearing her apart inside to see Phaesus like that, yet she showed none of it to the rest of the world.
Aye, she’s a strong one there and no mistake! He observed with grim pride, his own face a mask of stone as he turned to gather his own horse. A fine queen she’ll be too… if we can get her out of here alive, this day…
Another shell, and Nev was ready for it; waiting with arms akimbo and the pulsating blue ball of Dragonfire once more crackling about her left hand. The trajectory flashed into her mind once more in advance, and this time she was able to push her mind even further, tracking the ballistic arc all the way back to its point of origin.
Just like the Predator did, she thought darkly with an almost wry smile, thinking mom
entarily of the alien in that cheesy old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie her dad used to love watching as she punched out with her left hand once more and sent another bolt of energy sizzling upward into the sky to meet the incoming shot. Again, the cannonball deflected away, this time blasting out a crater in the middle of a small clump of trees on the rise running up on the eastern side of Stewpot Road, close enough for Nev to once more feel the warmth of the blast as it washed faintly past her a few seconds later.
This time she didn’t retract her hand, instead holding it outstretched above her head as she closed her eyes and focussed on concentrating another charge of energy. The glow about her hand pulsed, flashed and grew quickly in size as she continued to hold back, gathering it within her mind and body until she feared it might consume her entirely. Tracking back down that same trajectory she’d already mapped out from the previous shell, she released it all in a single huge burst.
A brilliant bolt of blue-white lightning blasted skyward from her outstretched fingers, searing the very atmosphere around it as it arced upward above the battle-scarred landscape, following back down the track of the last shell fired. It reached its zenith a fraction of a second later and turned downward once more as it homed in unerringly on its intended target. Nev saw none of what followed: the moment the blast had left her fingertips, her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed onto the bloody grass, the oblivion of unconsciousness rushing up to meet her.
Thunderbolt was preparing to fire again as a flash of blinding light struck the stubby barrel of one of the 32-pounders, turning it white hot in the last seconds before it disintegrated in a violent explosion that set off a nearby stack of shells and gunpowder propellant, the resulting chain-reaction tearing the ship apart forward of its central mast. Wreckage and debris spiralled high into the air, splattering the surrounding area with deadly lumps of jagged wood and glowing-hot iron as everyone on the nearby beach – De Lisle and Percy included – dived desperately for cover.
“Reports… reports, damn you all!” Harald bellowed in rabid fury, the only man still standing as he stomped angrily about the upturned map table and the others cowered around him. “Is this the first time any of you have seen combat, you cowering filth! I want that pathetic little hell-spawn brought back here now… dead or alive! Send everything we have spare: let’s see this ‘witch’ of yours fight off an entire bloody battalion!”
“Incompetent fool…” De Lisle hissed angrily under his breath as he regained his own feet just a few metres from where Percy still lay. “…letting that damned pendant fall into the wrong hands…”
It didn’t take a genius to work out whom he was referring to, and had Percy been feeling a little less exhausted she’d probably have managed a particularly cruel, self-satisfied smile at Silas’ expense. As it was however, she was still reeling from the after-effects of having been in at least partial control of the connection that had supplied Nev with such a huge burst of psychic energy.
That last counter-attack on Thunderbolt had hurt – physically – and Percy had been forced to break her link completely, leaving Nev to deal with whatever was left. She was now weak at the knees, her hands shaking slightly as the realisation of how close she’d come to losing her own mind finally struck home. She was also dealing with a splintering migraine in the aftermath of breaking connection and finding it difficult to focus properly on anything more distant than a few metres.
Sorry, sweetie... she thought darkly, a shudder rippling through her entire body as she struggled to her own feet and began an awkward but nevertheless methodical stagger toward De Lisle. That’s me done for a bit: you’re on your own, for now…
“I have her!” Randwick assured, sliding Nev’s limp, unconscious body face-down over his saddle and climbing up behind. “Let’s be gone now: the Blackwatch’ll come back soon enough and we’ll need to be far from here when they do.” He had no illusions about how well they’d fare when their enemy returned in force.
“Where to, good sir…?” Charleroi asked, reining her horse in beside his and trying as hard as she could to ignore the fact that her father’s broken body was tied down behind her.
“South for now,” he replied quickly with a shrug. “It matters little where for the time being, so long as we put some distance between us and the ‘Watch. I’ve a mind to try for Cadle to begin with – to take stock and perhaps rally our troops – but I’ve also no doubt that Harald will march on the fortress as soon as he’s able. With these Nethug-spawned cannon at the head of his army, I fear even Cadle’s walls will fall…”
“And what of Baal…?” She asked pointedly, her eyes dark with anger and betrayal.
“Aye, what of him indeed, Milady,” Randwick conceded solemnly, no happier about the situation. “There’ll be precious few survivors left to spread the truth of his treachery and we’ve no way of truly knowing who will stand with us or against… at Cadle or anywhere else for that matter.”
“Spies and traitors at every turn,” William growled with venom, drawing level with the old man on the other side.
“Aye, no doubt: and with Garrick gone, who knows how many will rise in their desire to take his place at Baal’s right hand.” He turned back to Charleroi. “Your Majesty, I’ll see to Huon’s defence but I’ve a mind to see you somewhere safe first: without you as queen, everything falls apart…”
“And what disservice to a kingdom to be abandoned by their queen at their time of greatest need?” Charleroi snapped, arching one eyebrow.
“Less of a disservice than to suffer a regicide, I suspect, Your Majesty…” Randwick shot back drily, not about to back down. “We’ll head south…” he repeated firmly, cutting off any reply she was about to give. “At least as far as Cadle if the roads are clear, Shard willing, and from there we can think hard on where to go next. By your leave, Ma’am…?”
Charleroi eventually gave a reluctant nod and with that, Randwick gave a loud “Yah…!” and urged his horse forward, the others falling in behind single file as he galloped away along the Stewpot Road, heading south toward the safety of the distant mountains. On the hill behind them, the fortress burned fiercely.
“Another failure, brother…” De Lisle growled softly, skewering Silas with his gaze as the old man stood beneath the re-assembled command post tent and stared at his awkwardly-shifting feet. “You were our conduit – the linchpin of our power…”
“And I held firm, Your Grace!” He shot back immediately in a plaintive tone, almost daring to sound indignant but ultimately knowing better than to show insubordination in front of others – particularly such others as Harald and his entourage. “Phaesus is dead because of us!”
“And the princess – the queen – still lives!” The cardinal shot back fiercely as Percy smirked from a safe distance of a few metres away, behind the main group. “Deputy Viceroy Garrick is dead however,” he continued in a dark tone. “Three of your brothers have also been left mindless – they’ll be lucky to last the night – and you’ve brought that idiot, Baal back wounded as well… although it appears he will last the night, more’s the pity!”
“The witch was too powerful… no one could have imagined it… that this could happen…!”
“Indeed, Brother Silas, none of this should have happened…!” De Lisle snarled in return, the old man realising far too late the trap he’d laid for himself. “And none of it would have happened had you not allowed one of our sacred Holy Pendants to fall into the wrong hands in the first place…! Years of planning to bring us to this day and your thoughtless actions have thrown the fate of the Osterlands and even the Brotherhood itself into jeopardy!”
Nethug take him… the words dropped into the cardinal’s mind like great blocks of lead falling to earth from stratospheric heights. He has no further use to us… his mind is too old and inflexible…
“Give me your Shard!” De Lisle demanded sharply, taking a step forward with hand extended.
“Y-your Grace…” Silas croaked nervously, an inc
redibly well-tuned sense of self-preservation telling him exactly how dangerous the current situation had become. “Your Grace, I…”
“Give it to me…!” The order came almost as a scream in its intensity and the old man flinched visibly, taking an unconscious step backward in response. A small but growing group of onlookers had begun to collect near Percy as the heated exchange had attracted their attention, Harald, Deeds and a number of other senior Blackwatch officers among them.
The girl… give it to the girl…
Devout as he undoubtedly was, even the cardinal baulked at that idea and he momentarily froze on the spot, uncertainty in his mind as Silas eventually – reluctantly – reached into the pocket of his robes as drew out the Holy Pendant, his face a mask of bitter defeat.
Do you dare question my commands now, cardinal…? Which part was not clear to you? Give… it… to... the… girl…!
“Your grace, I beg you…” Silas quavered, clearly shaking now as the magnitude of what was happening began to sink in; that after so many decades enjoying the power and luxury the Brotherhood had provided, he truly stood at the precipice of losing the only thing that had made all that possible. “I can mend this… I can take the Shard back and make this right again…”
“The matter is out of my hands,” De Lisle answered coldly, his hand snaking out with remarkable speed to snatch the pendant from the old man’s wretched fingers. “The Shard Gods have decided, and you know what that means… I could not change this even if I wanted to…” the clear implication of course being that he did not.
“My lord…!” There were tears in the old man’s eyes now, his hands reaching out in supplication as if they might somehow take the precious crystal back. “My lord; a lifetime I have served you, your most faithful of brothers… you cannot do this…”
Dragonfire Page 47
