Assassins of the Lost Kingdom (Airship Daedalus Book 1)

by E. J. Blaine

  “You’re bleeding!” she gasped.

  “I’m all right.” He stumbled while reaching down to retrieve his guns. Then he staggered off after Rhys and the creature with Doc beside him.

  His side hurt like hell, and he could see bloody gashes in his shirt. But he could tell the wounds were shallow. He’d be fine as long as they didn’t become infected, and Doc would see to that. But they had to help Rhys. He’d stabbed the thing twice with his bayonet-tipped spear and done little more than make it angry.

  Doc drew her revolver as they ran down the slope past the waterfall. They saw huge slashes in the soft earth where the creature had passed, and once they saw a spatter of blood on a fallen frond.

  They heard the creature’s roar even over the sound of the waterfall. Then they rounded a curve in the trail and saw them through the foliage. Rhys was at the near end of the log bridge over the canyon. He leapt up onto the trunk, still holding the sack with the civets they’d killed in one hand and his spear in the other. He ran partway across the log, apparently thinking the creature couldn’t follow him. But then it slapped the trunk with one huge, clawed paw and shifted it. Rhys stumbled and nearly fell, but he caught himself and set the sack down on the trunk. He turned and brandished the spear as the enraged creature leaped onto the fallen trunk. With a deep, angry growl, it moved carefully toward him. Rhys yelled and taunted it, and thrust the spear at it.

  Jack and Doc had been running down the trail as Rhys and the creature faced off. Now they were finally in range, but Jack couldn’t see a clear shot with Rhys so close to the creature.

  “Christopher, get down!” Doc shouted as she tried to position herself for a shot.

  Rhys saw them at the edge of the canyon. He met their eyes and smiled. He mouthed something Jack couldn’t make out. Then he swung the spear behind himself to point at the sack with its precious load of civet livers.

  The creature took the chance to spring forward, and Rhys blocked it with the shaft of his spear. They grappled there for a moment, and the Silver Star plane came out of nowhere. Jack hadn’t heard its approach over the roar of the waterfall. It was just suddenly there, a dark shape falling from the sky, so close he could almost make out the pilot’s face.

  The machine guns opened up and the creature screamed in agony and rage. There was a spray of blood, and then the plane shot past the crude bridge, already starting to pull up from its strafing run. Jack turned and followed the plane with his .45s, firing both until the magazines were empty and the slides locked back. Then he heard Doc scream.

  Like one being, Doctor Rhys and the creature he had been battling toppled off the tree trunk and plummeted down, down into the gorge until they vanished into the mists and were gone.

  “Christopher!” Doc screamed again and ran toward the bridge. Jack followed, grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She fought him, yelling, “Let me go!”

  “We can’t help him!” Jack shouted. Over her shoulder, he saw the Silver Star plane climb straight up, then fall over into a hammerhead turn as it came back for another pass at them. He shook Doc by her shoulders.

  “We have to go! Now!”

  She was trembling, but she met his eyes and nodded. “I know,” she said faintly.

  They turned and ran.

  Chapter 18

  “I think it’s gone,” said Doc.

  They were crouched in the gully dug by a small stream. They’d been there for almost twenty minutes, breathing hard and feeling their hearts pound in their chests as the cold water flowed around their ankles. The drone of the Silver Star fighter’s engine had faded, but Jack knew that was just temporary. The other one would tag in soon enough.

  They’d run away from the river, toward the center of the valley, into unfamiliar terrain. They’d managed to keep under the tree canopy so the pilot couldn’t get a clear shot. He'd hoped that they could lose the plane by evading it until it ran low on fuel. But soon they’d heard the sounds of men shouting and moving through the jungle, and they realized that the plane was the least of their worries. It was directing search parties on the ground. The soldiers were scattered along a long line sweeping through the bottom of the valley.

  He and Doc had managed to keep ahead of them so far. But they couldn’t keep up this pace forever. Even if they could, there was only so far for them to run. They were being herded against the far side of the valley, where the land rose sharply into icy cliffs, and the winds waited to freeze them. This side of the valley was steeper than the other. The air was cooler, and the foliage was different. They’d gone from jungle to more temperate woodland with fewer trees and less of a solid canopy. Here they had to wait and move from cover to cover when the plane was searching somewhere else. The farther they went, the less cover there would be. The plane would pinpoint them, and that would let the commander on the ground deploy his troops more effectively, over a smaller area. The net would tighten. Jack wasn’t sure how they were going to get out of this one.

  “Can you keep going?” he asked.

  Doc looked at him in dismay. “I don’t hear anything.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But they’ve got two planes. They can spell each other. The other one will be here in a few minutes. They can keep one on us as long as it takes.”

  He saw her take it in, realize the implication. She reached up and squeezed his hand on her shoulder.

  “Let’s do all we can,” she said.

  Their eyes met and Jack nodded. If this was going to be the end, he’d meet it with her, and they’d make sure the Silver Star paid a high price for their lives.

  They climbed up out of the gully and ran toward the distant cliffs. Jack set a pace he felt they could maintain for a while. They found another stream that ran cool and clear from the mountains ahead of them. It was flanked by a stand of pines that would provide some cover from the air, so they followed it. As Jack feared, the other plane appeared a few minutes later, buzzing the forest canopy over their heads.

  From time to time, they heard shouting or gunshots in the distance. Somehow the soldiers had managed to get around them and were closing from the east. They made a point of making noise from that direction to make sure Jack and Doc knew they were there, to steer them back toward the south.

  They followed the stream for a mile or more, up into the hills. The current grew more energetic and larger rocks lay strewn in the stream bed, water splashing and gurgling over them. The airplane was a near constant drone now, passing back and forth overhead. Jack assumed the pilot had figured out that they must be somewhere in this particular stand of trees.

  Eventually even the pines gave out. The forest thinned, and the trees grew shorter and less straight where the cold winds had twisted them. Jack and Doc stopped at the edge of the reliable cover. Ahead of them was just open slope covered in thick grass tufts and strewn with lichen-spotted boulders.

  Jack pulled out his binoculars and swept the landscape ahead of them. They were nearly to the cliffs now. He looked for some place they could hole up and defend but saw nothing.

  He swore as the Silver Star airplane buzzed low over them and pulled up sharply. A few moments later puffs of colored smoke erupted in the distance to his right. The ground troops were signaling their location. Why would they do that, Jack wondered.

  He checked that direction with his binoculars. There was something about the contour of the cliffs there. He thought for a moment, then made his decision. If he was wrong, he’d take the blame for it. They didn’t have much time left anyway.

  “That way,” he said, pointing toward the dissipating smoke. We’re going to make a run for it.”

  “That’s toward them.”

  “They’re trying to drive us the other way,” Jack said. “So we’re going where they don’t want us going. I think there’s a canyon mouth. We just need to reach it before they cut us off. Can you run?”

  Doc let out a dismayed sigh, but then she nodded. “I’ll keep up. But the pilot will see us
. We’ll be in the open.”

  “No choice,” said Jack, putting his binoculars away and checking the straps of his pack. He turned Doc around and adjusted hers so she could run more easily. “We’re out of cover. I’m betting they want us alive. He won’t just strafe us.”

  “Hope you’re right,” Doc said with a lightness that he knew cost her some effort.

  He squeezed her hand. “I love you,” he said.

  “Bloody hell, Jack,” she said, “Why’d you have to tell me that now?” As Jack looked at her in surprise, she squeezed his hand back. “I love you too,” she said. “Lead the way.”

  Then they broke from under the trees and dashed out onto the open. The grass was thick and hummocky, and it was hard to keep up their speed over the uneven ground, but they ran for their lives. There was no sense in holding back anything now. If the canyon was really there where Jack thought it was, and if they reached it before the Silver Star, they would at least have a position they could defend. If not, there was no chance.

  Barely a minute into their run, Jack heard the airplane coming in fast behind them. He ignored it and kept running, waiting for the chatter of machine guns, the impact, the blackness. But it never came. The plane shot by no more than fifty feet overhead, and Jack saw another grenade spiral down, marking their position with a corkscrew of blue smoke.

  A few moments later they crested a small rise, and Jack saw that he’d been right. There was a cleft in the rugged gray cliffs, a narrow canyon leading back into the mountainside. Another stream led out of it and tumbled down the slope toward another finger of forest like the one they’d just left behind.

  Then he saw shapes moving near the tree line. Silver Star soldiers were advancing up the slope toward them. But they were too far away, he realized. He and Doc would reach the cover of the canyon mouth before the soldiers could close to a realistic firing range. He glanced up and saw the biplane flying away toward the west. It had reached its fuel limit. They were going to make it, he realized. At least as far as the canyon. They’d be boxed in, but at least they’d bought some time.

  “Jack!” Doc shouted. Then there was a crackle of weapons fire from his right. Jack turned toward the sound and saw a single figure perhaps fifty yards away. He wore a black Silver Star uniform and stood alone near the edge of the stream with a submachine gun.

  Jack drew his pistols.

  “Keep going!” he shouted at Doc. Then he veered off course and headed straight toward the scout. The man fired another short burst, and Jack heard the bullets slice through the air nearby. Jack dodged as he ran, weaving around tufts of grass. Then he dove to the ground, steadied his aim and fired both guns. The scout staggered back and fell.

  In an instant, Jack was back on his feet and sprinting toward the fallen man. His comrades were firing at Jack now, but they were far away, and Jack was a moving target. He reached the body—already smoking and dissolving—and stooped to grab up his dropped weapon and his gray canvas shoulder bag.

  Then Jack turned and dashed toward the canyon mouth, running uphill along the edge of the narrow, tumbling stream. Doc was well ahead of him, nearly there. It would take a very lucky shot to hit him now. He kept moving, one stride after another as his heart pounded in his chest and his lungs burned. He saw Doc clear the canyon mouth. She was safe now.

  A bullet drilled past him as one of the Silver Star soldiers got too close for comfort. Jack zigged to the side and forced himself to keep moving. Just a few more paces.

  Then he was there. The grass gave way to loose shale and he fell forward, banging painfully against the rock fragments. Two more bullets smacked into the stone overhead, but their pursuers didn’t have a clear shot anymore.

  “Come on,” Doc said, leaning down to help him to his feet. “We have to move.”

  Jack struggled to his feet and they moved quickly up the narrow canyon. It bent gradually to the left, twisting its way back into the mountains. Jack could hear water falling somewhere up ahead. He stopped, knelt beside the stream and stuck a hand into the water. It was frigid, barely above freezing. He guessed it was coming from a melting glacier up above them. Whatever volcanic source heated the valley had just enough energy to melt the ice at the top of the cliffs and send this stream tumbling down into the valley below.

  They rounded the curve and found their path blocked by a rock fall. At some point the left face of the canyon had collapsed here, sending a rain of stone down to fill most of the stream channel with boulders. The stream had widened as it worked its way around them and become more shallow. Leaping from stone to stone, they picked their way across the stream and slipped around the far side of the rock fall. The fall had made a natural dam that held back a large pool. Again, there were enough loose boulders scattered around for them to make their way back across to a tiny arc of sandy beach protected by the dam.

  This might be a spot they could hold, Jack realized. The only way to reach them was to cross the stream as they’d just done, or else try to climb the dam itself. Either way, their pursuers would be sitting ducks. With luck, the two of them could hold the Silver Star off here until they ran out of bullets. Or food, he supposed, if the soldiers decided to just hang back and starve them out. But he was thinking in longer terms than before at least. They had food for several days if it came to that. Maybe they’d come up with a better idea by then.

  Doc appeared to have reached the same conclusion. She looked over the spot with approval. “Well, I’ve stayed in worse places. There’s clean water at least.” Then she noticed the submachine gun and pack Jack held in one hand. “What you got there, flyboy?”

  “German MP-18,” he said. “I thought it might come in handy.” He showed her the gun. It was an intimidating weapon. The barrel was wrapped in a perforated cooling shroud that made the gun’s business end look like a cluster of a half dozen muzzles. It used a round drum magazine that stuck awkwardly off to the side on a metal feed strut. The magazine held thirty-two 9mm pistol rounds, and the gun could empty it in a couple of seconds. Jack preferred his .45s, but he had to admit this was a situation that called for the MP-18’s raw firepower.

  He dug through the scout’s pack and found several spare drums, along with some dried ration bars, a pair of smoke grenades, and the real prize: three fragmentation grenades. He showed those off to Doc with a grin. “Can make some noise with these anyway.”

  Doc nodded. “You look like hell, by the way. Get that shirt off and let me take a look at those.”

  She carefully cleaned and bandaged Jack’s wounds with antiseptic and gauze from the small first aid kit in her pack. Then, without much else to do, they took up positions along the top of the natural dam and waited for the Silver Star.

  An hour went by, then another. It was cold here, Jack realized. The sun was already sinking behind the rim of the canyon. It would be dark soon. If he was the Silver Star commander, Jack decided, that’s when he would make his move. If the soldiers had to approach straight up a narrow canyon, darkness would at least provide some cover.

  Jack guessed he had about an hour and a half left before dark. Perhaps he could make use of that time. “I’m going to see what’s behind us,” he said quietly. He gave Doc the MP-18 and made sure she was familiar with it. “You see anything moving out there, you open up with this, and I’ll be back in a heartbeat, okay?”

  “Bet on it.”

  He left her the grenades as well, then moved quickly up the canyon. It looked much like what they’d already found. It was narrow, the sides were sheer, and there were patches of snow and ice scattered around. Jack wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Even if he found a way to climb out of here, they’d emerge into the high mountains and fall to their deaths somewhere if they didn’t freeze first.

  The canyon ended suddenly in a shadowy recess and a thin spire of water tumbling from above. The canyon was very narrow here. For the last hundred yards or so, there’d been no way forward except by clambering over rocks deposited in the stream channel. Jack sto
od on a large boulder and looked up to see a huge overhang of granite and massive, hanging spears of ice. The water wasn’t flowing over the canyon’s lip, he realized. It was draining straight down from a large gap in the ceiling of the recess, as if someone had punched a hole in the bottom of a bucket. He heard a grinding sound, and chunks of ice fell into the basin at the bottom of the falls. The whole place was unstable. There would be no getting out here.

  Then he heard the chatter of automatic fire behind him.

  Jack turned and ran, leaping madly from boulder to boulder until he reached open ground. Single shot rifle fire was peppered among the bursts now. He rounded a bend and saw Doc standing at the top of the dam, firing bursts from the MP-18 down into the canyon below. When the ammo ran out, she tossed the empty drum aside and seated another, but the gun refused to fire. She tried to clear it, then tossed it aside with a frustrated snarl and ducked down behind the dam.

  “Piece of crap gun!” she snapped at Jack as he ran up to join her. “You trying to get me killed here?”

  “What’s with you and the language today?” Jack answered as he drew his .45s. “You’re so unladylike. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

  He peered over the edge of the rocks. Several black clad figures were running toward them. Jack's pistols barked, and one attacker fell, then a second. The charge melted as the others took cover behind the boulders.

  Doc had her revolver out. She fired off a few shots as Jack tried to get the MP-18 working again. It was no good. He sighed and tossed it away.

  “Oh, come on!” Doc said suddenly. “Seriously?”

  She was looking over the rim of the stone dam. Jack popped up and saw it too. The Silver Star troops were setting up a heavy machine gun on a tripod mount.

  “Well that’s just plain poor sportsmanship,” Jack observed as they dropped back behind the cover of the stone again. A few moments later the gun opened up and bullets spattered off the lip of the dam just above their heads.