by CM Raymond
“Gregory?” Parker screamed as he burst into the clearing. A long, thick vine was stretched upward, and Gregory was standing near where it was anchored to the ground. The large gear that was meant to help bring the ship down lay broken. Two exhausted looking horses stood idly by.
Gregory was bent over the wheel—his eyes wild with fear.
“It’s not working. I don’t know what to do. It’s just not—”
Parker turned to Hadley, whose eyes had already gone white. A second later, Parker saw Sal sailing overhead—with Hannah on his back.
Parker’s mind raced. She was strong, but she would have her hands full, fighting whatever crew was aboard. He couldn’t leave her alone.
“Awe, hell!” he shouted as he slung his spear to his back. He grabbed the thick vine, taut with the weight of the airship pulling in the opposite direction. He looked at Hadley and said, “I’m going up there. You make sure this line doesn’t get cut. I’m not coming down until that ship does.”
Swinging his feet over the rope, he began the long climb, hand over hand toward the flying boat. As he went, he marveled at the strength of the vine. The druid must have done something to this…
Halfway up, his muscles began to burn—that’s when he made the mistake of looking down for the first time. The world swayed a hundred feet below, and the wind picked up, pitching his body back and forth.
“Shit,” he grunted as he pushed harder.
Nearly to the top, a screaming man fell past him. Parker couldn’t quite tell for sure, but it looked like his arm was frozen in a block of glass. At least he knew she was still fighting.
As he neared the top, the vine began to sway less and less. Finally, he reached the hole in the side of the ship where Gregory’s spear had landed. It was too far away from the top for Parker to reach it crouching. He looked down one last time, said a silent prayer, then pushed off with all his strength.
His fingers barely gripped the rail.
With gritted teeth, Parker pulled himself up and over the edge. He dropped to the deck, shaking with fear.
That was the dumbassiest thing I have ever done, he thought to himself as he gained his feet. But then he looked up and remembered why he had done it.
Hannah was standing against ten armed men.
Her eyes were red, her hair flying wild in the wind. This wasn’t the cautious girl he knew from the Boulevard—she was a warrior, completely in her element.
She fried a guard with a fireball and turned on one more, her chest heaving in exhaustion, and she held the rearick’s knife at the ready.
Parker leveled his spear and hit the man in the back with a blue blast of power. He dropped instantly.
Stepping around a dozen bodies, he made his way across the deck to Hannah. Sweat poured down her face, and her armor looked like it had taken a few blows.
Nodding down at the one guard he took out, Parker said, “Saved your ass again!”
A grin formed on Hannah’s lips as she surveyed the other eleven. “Yeah, I was really getting my shit handed to me up here… What would I have done without you?”
He reached down and grabbed her hand, which was still shaking from power and adrenaline. Before he could say another word, their reunion was interrupted by the creak of the cockpit door swinging open.
“Adrien,” she spat as she turned.
****
Spinning, Parker and Hannah watched the enemy emerge from the darkness of the ship’s interior.
But it wasn’t him.
“Good to see you again, darling,” the woman said. Her shock white hair and blistered skin were unmistakable. Alexandra licked her lips. “How do you like my makeover? Maybe I can give you one.”
She cracked her black whip in the cold, winter air. The memories of torture sent a chill across Parker’s spine.
Parker held his spear out, its metal tip glowing with power. “Thought you were dead,” he said. “I’m glad I get a chance to do it myself.”
Her eyes turned black as she tossed a quick bolt of energy at him. Parker dodged and grinned. “It’s going to be a little harder causing me pain now that you don’t have my hands locked in cuffs.”
She laughed in gravelly tones. “Oh, darling, it will make it all the more fun.” Her eyes cut to Hannah. “But I see this time you brought your friend. Can’t say I hate a good threesome.” She cracked her whip in Hannah’s direction, pulling it just short of her face.
Spinning her hands across her chest, a ball of fire formed in front of Hannah. “Sorry. I’m the jealous type.”
Stepping in with her right foot, she launched the ball at Alexandra, who dove out of the way. The fire crashed behind her and danced on the deck of the mighty ship.
Before the woman could regain her footing, Parker was on her. Swiping the spear, he cracked her across the face. She followed the course of his weapon and rolled to her feet, blood dripping from her misshapen nose.
“Not bad,” she croaked as she snapped her whip. It wrapped around Parker’s spear and, with a pull, she sent his weapon spinning across the deck. Raising a finger, she knocked him back with a short blast of energy. “But it will never compare to real magic.”
“You bitch!” Hannah screamed, running at her and grappling her around the waist. Her power was waning, and she knew she had to reserve as much as possible for the grand finale. Landing on top of Alexandra, she delivered blow after blow to the woman’s face, her fists a fine substitute for magic.
But Alexandra just took it, doing nothing to protect herself. In fact, she just kept cackling, her mad laughs getting louder with every strike. Then, she reached up and held Hannah by the ribs.
Her eyes turned black and power, like lightning, ran through Hannah’s body, jolting her off Alexandra.
“Stay,” she said, as she crawled to her feet and looked at Hannah twitching on the deck. “I’ll be back to deal with you in just a second. But I want you to see this, all right dear.”
Alexandra rose and pulled a long dagger from her belt. She paced across the deck where Parker lay motionless, his eyes closed.
Standing over him, she raised the dagger high.
Hannah reached out with her mind. Coming at you! She shouted inside her friend’s mind.
With a flick of her wrist, Hannah pulled Parker’s spear across the deck. His eyes snapped open as he grabbed the weapon, sharp end up. As if working together, Alexandra dropped her body toward him, knife out, just as Parker drove the spear through her gut.
Alexandra slumped down, holding the spear in both hands. She coughed, blood spraying in his face. Her face turned ashen, and she let out one last laugh.
Then her face went blank.
“Thank you,” she whispered as she slowly fell over dead on the deck of the warship.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Hannah dashed over to Parker and pulled him to his feet. Glancing down at Alexandra’s body, she quipped, “Guess you gave her the shaft.”
Shaking his head, Parker replied, “Bad, Hannah. So, so bad. Spear me the humor.” He winked. “Let’s get in there.” He nodded toward the door leading to the interior of the ship, but Hannah was already on the way.
It was quiet inside, which made Hannah even more nervous. All that surrounded them was the gentle hum of magitech lights lining the narrow hall. They used just enough power to keep it from being pitch black below. Adrien wanted to save the juice stored up below for flight and destruction.
Hannah snuck down the hall, as quietly as she could. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she neared the front of the ship. For a moment, she feared its beating would give them away.
Just feet ahead was the door leading into the cockpit. She glanced over her shoulder, and Parker gave her a nod, his spear held at the ready.
With a scream, she took two steps and kicked in the middle of the door. It responded with a crash, and Hannah flew into the small space, ready to avenge her brother’s death.
“What the hell?” she screamed as she looked in the
face of Elon, Gregory’s dad and chief engineer. “Where is he?”
Elon raised his hands, and fear danced in his eyes. “It’s... it’s just me.”
Hannah grabbed the man by the shirt and pushed him up against the control panel. The whole ship lurched in the air.
“Where. Is. He.” She put a note of rage into every syllable.
“He’s… he’s at the Academy.”
“Sonofabitch!” Hannah shouted as she cracked the engineer across the face with a closed fist, knocking the man to the ground.
Parker pushed in behind her and looked down at the unconscious engineer. “Think you could’ve gotten him to land this thing first?”
She shrugged. “How hard could it be?”
Sitting at the controls, she reached out to Hadley. Going to need a little help up here.
How many are there? Hadley quickly blurted into her mind. Ezekiel is wasted from the shield… There’s no way for us to get up there.
She laughed. Not that kind of help, Had. We already took out the baddies, but I have no freaking clue how to land this thing. Go get Gregory.
I’m with him now, Hadley responded.
For more than ten minutes, Hadley played the in between, passing messages back and forth between Gregory and Hannah. The young mechanic wasn’t familiar with the controls in the airship, but through trial and error, and many jarring fits, they figured out how to move the thing. Hannah pushed on the lever between her legs, which dropped the nose of the ship.
At first, she went too far, and Parker stumbled to the front of the flying beast. Then, pulling up just enough, she depressed a lever with her left foot, and they started moving toward the ground.
“I’m flying, Parker!”
He jumped in the copilot’s seat and strapped himself in. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.” They continued to pick of speed as the ground got closer and closer. “Hannah!” he screamed.
Pull up on the lever, Hannah. Pull up! Hadley yelled.
She did, but intuitively, she pressed down with both feet for leverage, which only made the airship accelerate.
“Hang on!” she yelled.
The bow of the ship turned up at the last second, driving the stern into the ground. Taking her foot off the accelerator, she turned a knob, and the engine system shut down, dropping the craft with a thud.
She looked over to see Parker with his eyes closed, gripping the arms of his chair as if he were trying to rip them off.
“See,” she said. “No problem.”
“You almost killed me,” he shouted.
“Sure. But think about how many times I’ve saved you!”
They laughed as they exited the craft and found their friends.
****
Adrien swirled the dark liquor in his glass as he watched his dream descend. Finishing the drink, he waited for a moment in hopes that Elon had tried some clever maneuver and had simply dropped below the treeline before decimating the tower and its inhabitants with the power of the magitech guns.
It didn’t.
The ship was lost, and Adrien knew it full well.
Walking over to his desk, he sat and pulled out a sheet of the finest parchment. He placed it on the surface and turned it, so the edge was perfectly parallel with the desk’s edge.
He got up and poured another drink, and then returned to his position, staring at the blank page. The words he needed to write had been practiced for years, but now necessity bred hesitation, and he realized that all of his rehearsals were for naught.
After another half a tumbler of booze, his head swam just enough to face the words he thought were impossible. He placed the tip of his writing tool on the parchment and wrote.
My Dearest T,
I never thought the day would come in which I would actually need to write this, but it is here…
Slowly, he crafted the impossible letter. Once done, he waved the page, encouraging the ink to dry. Folding it in half, he slid it into an oversized envelope. He stopped again and stared at it, considering tossing it into the fire, but instead, he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a tiny key, which opened his bottom desk drawer.
He smiled, looking down at the amulet, which had sat in that drawer for decades. Picking it up, he laid it out on the desk and inspected its exquisite craftsmanship. Once his eyes had had their fill, he scooped it up and gently slid it in the envelope, which he folded and sealed with the emblem of Arcadia pressed into the wax.
Another draw on his liquor and Adrien made his way to the door. He opened it to Doyle’s surprise—the assistant was used to his name being shouted from the other side.
“Sir?” he asked, brows raised.
Adrien handed the envelope to Doyle. “You know what this is, right?”
Doyle took a huge breath, then nodded.
“Good. Deliver it and do not fail.”
“It will get there,” Doyle said before turning to leave. “But what will you do?”
“I will stay here and finish this.”
Adrien returned to his office, closing the door behind him. He prayed to no one in particular that the letter would not be necessary, but at this point, he couldn’t risk the chance.
Pulling open the closet door, a sneer crossed his face. The magitech waiting for him there was not quite as powerful as the airship, but it would serve him just as well. It was time for him to meet his master.
****
Hannah laid her hands on Sal like she had when he was still just an oversized newt. “Easy boy,” she said as he shifted under her touch.
The dragon had taken a shot while trying to defend his master. And now, Hannah’s eyes glowed red, and she repaid him in turn. Last time she used her magic on the creature, it was to give him wings. This time it was to heal them.
As she focused, his scales grew back over the blackened spot. Rolling back his chin, Sal let out a growl at the initial sting, but then gave Hannah’s hand a quick lick before curling up beside the fire.
“There you go, you little ass. Back to doing what you do best.” She smiled as Sal’s breathing steadied into a rumbling snore.
She stood and looked around the Great Hall, now transformed into an infirmary. Hannah had taken care of the simplest bumps, bruises, and burns, while Ezekiel healed the worst of the injuries.
Meanwhile, Laurel, who was not great at healing by druid standards, took the ones somewhere in between, making each of her patients laugh with her wit and antics.
Maddie and Eleanor wove through the room, cleaning wounds and handing out mugs of Arcadian ale. There were bodies to be attended to outside of the tower, but more of them lived than anyone expected, and the joy of victory overwhelmed the sorrow for those who sacrificed themselves for the resistance.
Julianne and her two mystics were also helping how they could. With white eyes and a light touch, they eased the passing of those who were beyond healing.
A figure, sitting alone across the room, caught Hannah’s eye. She paced over to Gregory, who sat with a full plate of food in front of him, but he wasn’t eating.
“You mind?” she asked motioning to the chair.
“Sure,” he said without looking up.
She reached over and grabbed a potato from the edge of his plate and popped it in her mouth. They’d been eating the damned things three meals a day, but that night, the spud tasted good. “Helluva job today, Gregory.”
“What?” he said looking up. “I failed.”
She tilted her head. “Did you?”
“Yeah. It was my job to reel that thing in, to bring it down.”
“Yeah, you really suck ass at all this engineering stuff,” she said with a wink.
He laughed in response. “I kind of hate you, you know that?”
“Yeah. Most do.” She reached her hand across the table and grabbed his arm. “You know if you didn’t spear that thing, it would’ve been flying all over raining death on us, right?”
Gregory nodded.
“You ancho
red the damn thing, which severely limited the damage it could do. It wasn’t quite a failure. Without you in the fight, I couldn’t have done it.” Hannah gave his arm a squeeze.
He smiled. “You still could have…”
“I know. I am one bad ass bitch… but I had to try to make you feel better.”
A scene from across the room caused Gregory to look up and then jump to his feet. Marcus led Elon—who was conscious, but bound by magitech cuffs—into the Great Hall. They stepped through the crowd and up to their table.
“What should I do with this one?” Marcus asked.
Hannah’s eyes cut to Gregory, but he only saw his father.
Elon looked back at his son, his eyes pleading for mercy.
Without a word to Hannah, Gregory said, “Lock him up downstairs. Lock him up tight. We will decide what to do with him later.”
“Son—” Elon muttered.
Gregory stared him in the eyes. “My father is dead. You are nothing more than a prisoner of war,” he said and then left the Great Hall.
****
Once all the injured were attended to and settled in, Hannah and her friends met up in the back parlor that was used as Maddie’s classroom.
Setting a fire to blaze in the hearth, Ezekiel lit his pipe and drew on it, humming an old Arcadian anthem to himself.
The man had rested, but his face still looked drawn and grey His shield was something that even impressed Hannah, not to mention that it saved them all from the power of Adrien’s airship.
They all sat, except for Karl, who still wore crusted blood on his face—most of it not his own. Hannah nodded across the room at him and patted the empty seat next to her.
Waving a hand, he gave her a grin. “Scheisse, lass. If I let this bag of bones sit, you likely won’t get my arse up… ever.”
She smiled back. “You kicked some serious ass out there, rearick.”
“Aye. That’s what we do.”
Ezekiel pulled a bottle out from behind the couch and uncorked it. “A gift sent from the Heights. This was brewed by Selah, the old master himself and was brought to us by Ida for this occasion.” He walked the room, filling each of the empty glasses.
