by CM Raymond
Hannah had suggested they give it a test first—use a small portion of the amphoralds, just to see if it would fire, but he refused. Launching the oversized spear was only half of the battle. The projectile needing enough velocity to not only make it up to the ship, but also to pierce its metal hide.
“So many variables,” he said aloud as he worked. “So many damned variables.”
A voice from behind him broke his concentration. “I see you still can’t work without talking to yourself, shithead.”
Gregory spun to his feet, grabbing a metal spear. It quivered in his hand, his only defense against the enemy.
“Well, well, well, look at the mighty warrior. You never were much with magic. You think you’re any better with that?” the young man, Gregory’s age, said to him.
It had only been a matter of weeks, but with all that had happened, it took Gregory’s brain a beat to place him. Morgan was the ass who sat behind him in the Introduction to Physical Magic course. It seemed he had healed up well enough from the “accident” he had at the Winter Ball—when Hannah had shoved him out of the third story window of Gregory’s parents’ house.
Morgan had never liked Gregory—few students at the Academy did—but he was also the most vocal about his disapproval of the chief engineer’s son. But the look in his eyes, as Gregory face him now was different. Before, the young man was a cocky ass, and now, his eyes shone pure evil. He’d been turned, influenced by the Chancellor’s vitriol, and Gregory could read it on his face. He came here for blood.
Gregory leveled his spear toward his former peer, and the two men that flanked him on either side. “Back off, Morgan. I have a job to do.”
The man laughed. “Me, too, dipshit. And my success means your failure.” He threw a set of magitech cuffs at Gregory’s feet. “So, be a chap and slap those on for me. Careful, though, looks like those wrists of yours will snap with a bit of force.”
Gregory looked over at his machine and then back up at Morgan. “Not a chance. You’d have to kill me first.”
A sneer grew on his face. “I hoped you’d say that.” Nodding at one of his lackeys, Morgan said, “Cut him open. I want to see this wimp weep holding his own entrails.”
The man raised a broad sword and took a step before pitching forward and landing hard on the ground. Thick vines grabbed his feet and were slowly working their way up his legs and around his torso. Shouting curses, the man’s face turned red as the vines began to twist and constrict—the veins popped out on the side of his neck. All of them stared in disbelief, including Gregory. And then, the vines retracted, pulling the Arcadian across a hundred yards of rough ground before he disappeared into the woods.
“The hell?” Morgan spat.
He turned in time to see a leather cord snap in their direction, the metal blade at its end sinking into his remaining partner’s calf. He screamed in pain.
The girl in the green cloak pulled the cord back toward her, causing the man to hit the ground with an oof. Before he could even attempt to rise, she landed a boot to the side of his face, knocking him out. As she turned, two blasts of power landed at her feet.
“Don’t bloody move,” Morgan said with his magitech weapon trained on the girl. He tilted its nose toward Gregory and his machine. It shook as adrenaline coursed through Morgan’s body. “Next to brainiac over there, now.”
Laurel nodded sweetly and stepped over to Gregory. With the rope blade still in her right hand, she grabbed Gregory with her left.
“That’s cute,” Morgan muttered. “Gregory’s finally found a girlfriend. Too bad you won’t live long enough to enjoy her.” He laughed sickly. “Not saying I won’t.” He tilted his head. “Never seen a druid before, darling. Nice trick with the vines. Maybe you’ll have to show it to me later.”
The right side of her mouth turned up in a crooked grin. “I’ve got a friend who can do something far better.”
Morgan looked quickly from left to right. “You’ve got no friends here, bitch.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth twice, and the plump squirrel—who was already sneaking up Morgan’s leg—sprang into action.
Devin jumped, sinking her tiny teeth into Morgan’s throat. He screamed in shock and pain as he tried to grab the animal, but she was too fast. She ran around his neck and bit him on the other side. In seconds, his screaming stopped as he fell to the ground—gurgling his last breath.
“Damn,” Gregory said, eyes still wide in shock. “Um, thanks.”
Laurel looped up the rope blade and fastened it to her belt as Devin crawled up and made herself at home on the druid’s shoulder. Pointing at the bodies, she said, “We kill them, you kill that.” She shifted her finger toward the sky, where Adrien’s warship was firing another blast of its magitech cannon into Ezekiel’s shield.
“Quit staring into space,” Hannah said as she rounded the corner. “It’s time to do your thing, chief engineer.”
They turned to face her.
“I heard the blasts and came to save your ass, but…”
Laurel gave Hannah a grin. “That’s my job, now.”
“Good luck with that, sister. I hope you have a lot of energy,” she pointed at Gregory, “because this is one hell of a job.”
“Tell me about it,” Laurel quipped.
Gregory cleared his throat. “You two do know I’m standing right here, don’t you?”
Laurel laughed. “Oh, we know… Now, you going to launch that thing or what?”
Gregory rushed to his own magitech cannon, checking all of its pieces to ensure one last time that it would work. Lacking any proper rope in the tower, Laurel had gathered vines, which she assured him would do the job.
He pointed the barrel at the ship. It was a long, hollowed-out log with a wicked looking spear shoved down the middle. The monster in the sky offered an enormous target, for which Gregory was grateful. He whispered a prayer to the Matriarch under his breath, stole a quick look at Laurel who nodded in encouragement.
“Get back,” he said. “Just in case.”
Feeling a knot in his throat, he grabbed a line of string, which was attached to the rod holding back the hammer on the cannon’s trigger mechanism. It gave him precious little distance in case the whole thing blew. He looked at Hannah, who nodded before her eyes flashed red. Ezekiel’s purple shield flickered and disappeared. That was his cue. Holding his breath, Gregory pulled.
The hammer snapped, crushing an amphorald on the end of the cannon. The chain reaction was instantaneous—and the full payload of amphoralds exploded, forcing their stored energy outwards.
Gregory’s ears rang as the cannon roared, but he paid no attention. All eyes were on the giant spear with the sharp metal prong as it whistled its way toward the airship, trailing Laurel’s vines behind it. It made a loud thud as it bit into the belly of the beast.
Hannah and the other’s cheered. It was a direct hit. But Gregory took no time to celebrate—he immediately ran to the giant spool where the spear’s vines were anchored. Two large horses—a gift from local farmers—were tethered to either side. At Gregory’s command, Laurel coaxed the beasts into action, and they began to walk in circles, steadily pulling on the vine. It grew taught, then with a groan, the airship began to move slowly toward the ground.
If they could get it low enough, they could launch a counterattack.
Suddenly, Hannah gasped. Gregory turned to look at her. Her eyes were red, and there was a pained expression on her face.
“It’s Julianne,” she yelled. “Something’s wrong at the tower. I gotta go—is this thing going to work?”
Gregory nodded. “I hope so.”
“Don’t hope, Gregory. Make it happen. Take that thing down.”
He nodded as she turned and sprinted for the tower.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Leaving Gregory and Laurel behind to reel in the ship, Hannah ran for the opposite end of the tower. Julianne had told her about a
small group of soldiers that were attacking from the rear.
They had snuck around Karl’s forces and were making their way to the tower. Whether they intended to attack Ezekiel on the roof or to bring havoc on those hiding inside, she didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. Either way, they needed to be stopped.
As Hannah turned the corner, the group came into sight. Six men with magitech rifles were advancing. They were slowed, but undeterred by the few old men and women defending the tower—the last line of defense in case something like this happened.
While sprinting, Hannah launched a quick blast of energy at the group, leveling one of the men. The rest kept firing upon the tower, but one turned to face her.
Getting close, she unleashed a spinning roundhouse kick, a move that Karl couldn’t even have pulled off.
“You!” the man yelled as his gun flew into the distance.
Without his weapon, the guard resorted to his fists. He threw a sloppy right that landed on Hannah’s cheekbone. As her world spun, she felt his meaty hands wrap around her throat. He was a beast of a man, and he lifted her off the ground. Her eyes nearly popped from her head as he choked the life out of her.
But it was foolish to leave her hands unaccounted for.
With her feet dangling off the ground, she placed her palms on his breastplate. At first, he didn’t notice the heat, but as her magic cooked through his armor, the searing pain on his chest made him scream in agony. His grip loosened, and she fell to the ground.
She pulled her knife and stabbed him in the chest through the weakened portion of his armor. He fell to the ground, his body twitching like a fish out of water, an unspoken curse word on his lips.
She looked down as she sucked in air. “Douche.”
Footsteps interrupted her triumph. She spun in time to see a thick man with a handlebar mustache swing a small club at her head. Hannah leaned away, dodging a direct hit, but the thing glanced off her temple and knocked her off center.
“Ah, the mighty Unlawful,” Captain Dickerson said, his eyes wild with rage. “Glad we got a chance to meet again.”
He swung a fist into her stomach, forcing her to double over. He then clasped his hands together and brought them down on her back. She crumpled to the ground.
“That all you got, Dickstache?” she wheezed.
He pulled a knife and kneeled on her chest. “I’m going to enjoy gutting you like the pig that you are. Perhaps Adrien will reward me when I bring him your head.”
His eyes were bloodshot, and his face filled with hate. So much so, he didn’t hear the sound of wings flapping or wind rushing.
A green blur swooped in from above, crashing into the man. The force of the attack sent him sprawling, and before he could make a move, Sal was on top of him, ripping and clawing as Dickerson struggled.
But the struggle didn’t last long.
Sal continued to rip and tear at the body, throwing flesh in all directions.
“It’s done, boy,” Hannah yelled at the creature.
The dragon turned to her with blood dripping from his pointed teeth. Walking over to his master, he sat with his chin directed at the sky—clearly proud of his accomplishment.
“You saved me,” she said, scratching him under the chin. “Thank you. That’s the last time I leave you behind. Now, let’s cut the sentimental bullshit and go find Ezekiel.”
She ran for the doors of the tower with Sal on her heels. The place was eerily quiet, which reminded her of the early days in residence there with the master magician. Cutting to the right, she pushed through into the stairwell and sprinted for the roof.
Breaking out into the cold air, she saw Ezekiel struggling to keep his hands raised toward the heavens. She could see that the airship was tethered, but it remained floating above them. Another blast from the cannon crashed into his shield, and he collapsed to his knees just as she reached him.
His face ashen and covered in sweat, he whispered, “Tell me the boy did it.”
“Gregory speared the ship. It’s nearly finished.”
“Good. I’m about tapped out here.” She nodded, but Hannah’s eyes weren’t on him. Instead, they watched as his magical shield dropped, and the airship landed blast after blast on the forest below. She prayed to whoever might be listening that their forces had retreated out of harm's way.
Hannah, Hadley’s voice rang in her mind. Gregory’s machine… the wheel… it has failed.
Failed? She asked in reply.
The engine’s too strong. We can’t bring it down!
She looked at the magician as they stared into the burning forest.
“What do I do?” she whispered.
He turned to her. “You know what to do, Hannah. Without Gregory’s machine, it’s the only move left.”
She looked into his eyes and knew that he was right.
She reached out to Julianne with her mind. Sound the retreat. Get them the hell out of there. I’m going in.
May the Matriarch be with you, Hannah, was all she said in response.
She turned to Sal. “You ready for this, boy?”
Sal shot his tongue out of his mouth and back in, then tilted his head in a nod.
She stood up, took three steps toward her creature, and then swung herself up onto his back. Gripping his torso with her legs, she said. “Whatever you do, keep moving. Don’t let the guns get you. We’re going to make it through this.”
“Give them hell, Hannah,” Ezekiel said with a smile.
Sal crouched low and then sprung into the air. Flapping his enormous wings, he pulled his master toward her destiny.
The cold, winter air whipped through her hair as the dragon picked up speed, heading directly for his target. For a moment, the guns continued to rain blue bolts of power down on the defenseless rebels below. But as they got close, Hannah threw a ball of fire that crashed against the side of the airship. The gunner recognized the greater threat and turned the cannons on Hannah and Sal.
That should give my people some time to escape, she thought.
Guns blazed, but Sal was too fast for them. He dodged left then right, climbing higher with every second. Hannah’s heart was caught in her throat as she held on for dear life. As Sal flew over the deck of the ship, Hannah tried to count the number of guardsmen manning it.
Ten, maybe twelve were running around on top. She could maybe beat them. Maybe. But retreat was not an option—and the men on the deck were not her primary target.
As if he were reading her mind, Sal swept in low. Taking the guards by surprise, he struck three in his path, knocking them overboard. Their bodies hurtled toward the earth, leaving behind nothing but their futile cries.
Sal cut to the right and flew skyward again, drawing the ship’s fire as he went.
“You need to get me down there,” she screamed into his ear as the wind whistled all around them.
Reaching the apex, Sal spun, reversed his position, and started a dive for the ship.
Holding on with her left arm to the dragon’s neck, Hannah drew the rearick’s knife with her right. Her eyes remained on the target the entire time. She watched the Capitol Guard as Sal dove. All of them scrambled for cover, except for one. He stood confident, aiming his magitech at the dragon’s approach.
Hannah’s eyes narrowed as she focused on him, but only because he was the first of a dozen obstacles that stood between her and vengeance.
The guard sent three consecutive blasts at them. Sal cut and turned like a sparrow in the light of dawn. At his third turn, Hannah took her opportunity.
Giving Sal a quick pat on the side of the neck, she pushed off his back and hurtled her body at the brave Arcadian. Knocking him to the ground, her knife found the soft flesh of the side of his throat, and she rolled into a crouch on the deck of the ship.
Her eyes shifted, taking in her surroundings. She had been up here before when she attacked the factory to save Gregory. But the bright sun and the wind whipping around them made it feel altogether different.
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Sal continued to dive bomb the men on board, and most had run for cover. She could hear the men, hidden behind an enormous wooden crate, muttering curses about the young magician.
One finally charged as two more blasted their rifles from a safe distance.
Hannah crouched. Rolling her left hand, she held it up, palm out, making a simple shield. Her right hand contorted, and, with her eyes gleaming red, she threw a blast of ice at the man, freezing his hand and weapon.
The ice weighed him down. Hannah dropped her shield and reached out as if grabbing the air. Spinning, she launched the man, ice hand and all, over the edge of the ship.
A second man, one bigger than the last, stepped out into the open, gun blazing. He screamed as he shot and took a step toward her. But only one.
Before he could advance further, a set of scaled talons snatched him from the deck. Sal flapped his wings with fury toward the sun. Finally, the dragon released the screaming man, whose body hurtled toward the ground.
She smiled, but a door opened behind her, and a dozen more men came spilling out. She quickly dove behind a stack of barrels. Sweat covered her body, and her heart raced. She peeked over the edge, but they immediately began blasting her.
A screech sounded from above, and she saw Sal diving to attack the ship again. But a dozen magitech blasts were too much from him to avoid, and one clipped his wing. The dragon screamed in anger as she saw it fall out of sight.
“Sal!” she yelled. She tried to stand, but another blast clipped the barrel she was hiding behind.
“You shouldn’t have come up here little girl!” one of the men shouted. “I think we’ll make you walk the plank.”
“You better enjoy those words!” Hannah yelled back, her anger overwhelming her. “Because they’re going to be your last.” She took a breath. Her eyes flashed red. Then, she stood and sprinted toward them.
****
Parker and Hadley ran through the woods. As soon as the airship appeared overhead, they told their people to find cover, and they took off toward where they knew they would find Hannah.
