Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4)

by H. Jane Harrington

  Dailan was trying his best to warm up to the big hunk of ghostybones, since he was a Guardian and all. It felt weird, standing next to someone who's name and likeness was still framed in the memorial altar in Saiya Kunnai's bedchamber back in the Brace. Dailan had even left an offering at the alter once, the leftovers of a dried persimmon he'd been too full to finish. He suddenly wondered who ate all those memorial offerings, if the Gods and the departed souls weren't the ones chowing down themselves.

  “Just like you did, eh?” Arrelius' eyes twinkled in mischief over his smirk.

  “I wasn't that dithered. You just looked awful rosy for a ghostybones, that's all. Took me aback,” Dailan shrugged.

  Everyone bit back snickers, knowing the honest truth.

  “Anyhow, I thought maybe we should run through the plan again. Just so's there's no mistakes,” Dailan said to change the subject.

  “Not much to the plan, really,” Saiya Kunnai said. “First, we drop the lovable Master Prophet off at Quinning Temple so he can confer with the Mon-Priest and make any preparations the chamber needs. We zip on over to Chalice House to pick up Vann and Scilio. Then, we run them back over to the temple before the highsun hour, when Xavien will meet us with a soulblade. Malacar will perform the ritual with the Guardian Bonding. And that's that.”

  “But, Shunatar's been spending his time with Gavin and the Magister in the library stacks at the university. What if he's not at Chalice when we get there?” Dailan asked.

  Saiya Kunnai shrugged. “Then, we'll find him when Vann is restored. It'll make for a nice surprise. After all that dusty searching and antsy guarding, Scilio deserves to rest his eyeballs.”

  As luck (or misfortune, really) would have it, they didn't have to worry about tracking Shunatar down later. Through the farscoper that was mounted at the port bow's funnel station, Dailan could see him in the middle of all the battle chaos they'd come upon. He was climbing over some chunks of debris at the destroyed northgate wall, toting His Majesty on his back. Dailan wasn't quite sure why there was a battalion of kaiyo ringing the temple's perimeter, why greenie troops looked to be commanding them, or why there was fighting all about. By the state of the shattered northgate and the walls around it, it looked like Quinning had woke up on the wrong side of the bunk.

  Elementals were zooming like fireflowers around the grounds. There were a bunch of folks, not warrior-types from the way they moved, protecting Shunatar as he retreated from a toppled airskiff. The Magister was there, too, beside him and Grydon, with Gavin waddle-shuffling over the messy jumble of debris that made a refuse pile of the grounds.

  The Emerald Bounty had run up on Quinning's eastgate, planning to drop Farning at the door, but they were met with a skirmish instead. It was plain as print that the kaiyo welcoming party was making fangs meant for biting, not greeting. Dailan had told Ulivall to set Eshuen's warriors at the cannons, feeling a little lofty at the prospect of a kid commanding a General (and his own clan's patron, for that matter) to do anything battley. Ulivall hopped to like Dailan was an Admiral or something. Dailan had made quick sure Emmi was comfortable at the helm and Bertrand was safe, curled on the floor beside her. Then, he'd headed to the foredeck and perched himself on the swivel chair at the port bow funnel station to call directions through the funnel-feed that would carry his voice to whatever deck-labeled channel he plugged into. Westerfold really had thought of everything.

  Saiya Kunnai came jogging up from behind to take a gander at the field, just as Dailan was talking through the funnel-feed, advising Emmi to a low hover.

  “You'll wanna see this, Saiya Kunnai. Shunatar's down there in all that battle-fraynation! He's got His Majesty lugged on his back. Looks like they was trying to get away, but their skiff got toppled,” Dailan said, letting Kir have a go at the farscoper. “Just yonder, see?”

  “Why in Karanni's name did they come here?” Malacar asked to nobody in particular.

  “Probably the same reason we did,” Arrelius figured.

  “The kaiyo ain't attacking right now,” Dailan said. “Just pushing them back inside.”

  “Scilio looks draggled. That Ruptor blast must have been his handiwork,” Saiya Kunnai noted, pulling her eye from the farscoper.

  “We need to get to them,” Malacar said. “Eshuen's warriors at the cannons can clear us a path, and Ulivall's ground troops will cover our backs.”

  “You got this, Dailan?” Saiya Kunnai asked coolly, much more calm than she had been two hours ago. You'd never guess by her focused, steady demeanor that she was about to go into the fray.

  “Go on, Saiya Kunnai. We're your flyflap in the sky. You just take care of His Majesty.”

  “Hold down the ship until we get back. Nomah be your arms, little brother.” Saiya Kunnai saluted him, then turned on her heel and hustled for the cargo bay.

  Malacar and Inagor took turns clasping Dailan's wrist, giving him the warrior's respect that usually came to folks a lot older and more schooled than Dailan. He felt his head swell just a mite bigger than before. The Guardians lit out at that.

  Dailan plugged the funnel-feed into the gungalley channel and put the speaking end to his lips. “Eshuen? Am I coming through? Fire a canister at that big grunifler at the eastgate. I think you can take a bunch of them out if you aim for him.”

  “Acknowledged,” came Eshuen's gruff reply.

  Dailan waited on tenterhooks, hoping the warriors (and Saiya Kunnai's Second Ladies that were helping in the gungalley, too) remembered what he had showed them the day before. Westerfold had left a manual on the workings of cannons in the stashes of papers that had been strewn about the captain's cabin. Except at forts, cannons were not really common in Septauria, considered antique relics because of history's long love affair with Elementals. The black fernopowder that made the cannons work wasn't cheap, but Westerfold had kept barrels of the stuff stocked. On the journey to Hili, Dailan had played around with firing off the cannons for practice. He enjoyed it a little too much. It was a good thing he had been practicing—he had blown a malcraven perfectly from the sky at Fort Unity.

  Dailan put the funnel-feed to his mouth, about to ask if Eshuen needed him to come down and help, when the airship finally belched a barking puff of black smoke that clapped Dailan's eardrums. The projectile whistled its path until it met the target. The kaiyo at the wall shredded, their butchered limbs tossed every which way. A few of them weren't weak to physical attacks, but the blast was powerful enough to stun them.

  Dailan could hear the boys whooping in the funnel-feed. He stuck the channel tube into the wheelhouse notch. “That got some attention. Take us up over the wall, Capper Em. Set her down in the open courtyard.”

  “Hang on,” Emmi called through the funnel. “I'm bringing her cloudright.”

  As the airship rose higher, Dailan's view was opened to the far westgate, where a family of crawly kaiyo with long tentacle-like legs had just scaled the wall. There was nobody nearby to fell them, and they looked bound for Shunatar, so Dailan plugged the funnel tube back into the gungalley channel. “Eshuen, five crawlers at the westgate! Take them out.”

  Another barking, puffing, whistling canister made short work of the kaiyo.

  The airship soared right over the high wall and eased groundright to land dock. Dailan loaded his funnel tube into the cargo channel and ordered, “You're clear. Pop the cargo door.”

  A rumbling, higher in pitch than the moaning engines, told Dailan the door was being lowered on its track. In seconds, waves of golden Hili backs and silver Aquilinian uniforms poured over the courtyard, making hot step for the kaiyo in the streets. Dailan watched over the railing anxiously, shifting between the farscoper and his own two wide eyes. There was a flurry of chaos, battle cries and kaiyo screams.

  Saiya Kunnai and the Guardians, with Farning bringing up the rear, went running the opposite way, straight for Shunatar and His Majesty. It wasn't much of a reunion. When Shunatar took a nasty knee and almost spille
d His Majesty into a turtle pond, Malacar took over the toting. Just then, a darkly funny voice launched itself over the field, amplified like it was coming from the mouth of a God. It struck Dailan that it was a God's mouth, after all, he was just using a grandspeaker to make it heard from everywhere.

  The warning Alokien gave, to give up inside of ten minutes or face the wrath of a million kaiyo (thousands really, but they might as well have been millions to Dailan's mind), didn't seem to faze Saiya Kunnai. She hustled Shunatar and everyone else toward the inner grounds where the Prophecy room was. The warriors were engaged with a stream of kaiyo that seemed unending. Dailan kept calling directions to the cannon team to pop a flying kaiyo from the sky or clear a section for Ulivall's soldiers.

  It all seemed pretty fine to Dailan, until the reinforcements arrived. It looked to be thousands of Havenlen soldiers and bunches more kaiyo units, so many that Dailan couldn't rightly figure the numbers. They filled the streets, marching on the temple. The cannons could do a lot more good from the air. Dailan plugged into Emmi's wheelhouse channel.

  “I think we need to get cloud-bound.”

  “But that voice said they'd open Ruptors on us. I don't want my ship Ruptored,” Emmi argued.

  “That could still happen while we're land docked,” Dailan countered. “We're sitting ducks. I say we pull cloudright. Ruptors are heavy, slow moving spells and this tub's pretty maneuverable. You can avoid them. We'll do a lot more damage from the air than we can from here. If the cannons keep the greenies ducking, it might keep the Ruptors from launching at us. Besides, the boys are holding their own, but there's a passel of kaiyo forming up. Too many. We're outnumbered and outmagicked. Only hope is getting off some cannon blast at their hides.”

  “Okay then,” Emmi reluctantly agreed. “But if we get Ruptored I'm haunting your nextlives forever.”

  Dailan plugged into the gungalley. He filled Eshuen in as the airship lifted its huge keel into a hover.

  The moment the ship crested the wall, she started popping a cannonade at the kaiyo and the troops. Dailan scanned the battle, directing Eshuen to fire at specific targets that looked good. He could have sworn he saw a silver blur of long hair flash through the crowd of clashing swords and tussling bodies. He tried to train his eye on it, but just as he zeroed in, the airship banked hard to starboard to avoid a launched Ruptor. The air about the ship got real thick with cannon belch. The smoke burned Dailan's eyes and made it hard to see. It cleared away when the ship ducked and dodged, but Dailan could still taste black in the back of his throat.

  Emmi directed the airship over the streets, avoiding minor Elementals and the odd Ruptor that arced past and pummeled the buildings where they landed. Eshuen only targeted kaiyo, but sometimes unlucky soldiers were caught too close to the blast zone and ended up losing limbs or life. It couldn't be helped. Dailan didn't really want to see anyone killed, especially when they were only following the orders of what they believed to be their King. They couldn't know that they were unintentional agents of chaos.

  A fiery dive-bomb of death came up over the railing, set on roasting Dailan's bones. The flappy kaiyo was out of the gunport sights, so all Dailan could do was stare at it dumbly as it dove. He hoped Saiya Kunnai would speak a kind word about him at the funeral.

  Screamy fire erupted, not from the kaiyo, but from someone's screechy mouth. It was Emmi, spewing blazing insults at the creature as she came flying onto the bridge deck from the wheelhouse. The lucky silver ax was in her hand, flailing back and forth like a dying fish.

  “Sheer off'a my airship, you hideous excuse for a sparrow!” Emmi called down, then tacked on another round of cursing that would have made the popinjays in Empyrea gasp behind their hands.

  Emmi hurled the ax at the flappy kaiyo with all the strength she had, sending the blade right between its buggy eyes. Even impaled, the kaiyo wasn't killed, but it did fall and hit the railing before it flopped overboard.

  “Way to go, Capper Em! I told ya we needed a silver ax!” Dailan whooped.

  “And I told you that it didn't need to be silver,” she retorted over her toothy grin. “Aren't you glad I picked a functional one, rather than a flashy one?”

  “That's why you're the Captain,” Dailan saluted.

  Emmi ran back to her place in the wheelhouse and shifted the airship from its hover into forward motion.

  Dailan plugged back into the gungalley. “Are there any hands free down there to help keep the ruttin' kaiyo from filleting my hide? I near got et just now!”

  “I'm sending someone up,” Eshuen reported through the funnel-feed.

  In just a few eye-blinks, Gevriah came running up on Dailan's flank. Her longbow was notched and ready in her hand.

  “I'll cover you, Dailan,” Gevriah promised. “What my arrows can't fell, my Elementals can.”

  She parked herself behind Dailan's swivel chair, knocking away any unlucky kaiyo that came too close.

  “Gotta find us a new silver ax,” Dailan muttered to himself. “That wenchin kaiyo's head done stoled it from us, and I won't set sail without one.”

  If Gevriah heard him, she didn't say nothing.

  It struck Dailan that the airship's weakness was the upper decks. The cannons in the gungalley didn't have a good enough range of ups-and-downs to cover topside. He figured Professor Westerfold hadn't never been faced with flying kaiyo that could dance around in all directions. It would be something for Dailan to ponder in the future—a way to add gun support to the places that weren't covered from below.

  On the next pass around the perimeter, Dailan saw a sight that made him taste his heart in his throat. Several lines of black cloaks, about a hundred or so, unfolded out of nothing, right along the war-torn northgate. Filthy Shadow Mages, come to finish His Majesty off, for sure. They stood still as statues, their white oval masks hiding their features and their humanhood to make them seem as wicked as the kaiyo around them. There weren't as many gold and silver Aquilinian bodies swinging swords as there had been on the first pass, but the greenies seemed to go on forever. Now, with these cloakers, it didn't seem like there was any way to wrap up a win. Dailan hoped Saiya Kunnai hurried up with whatever she was doing in that Prophecy room, because there was something brewing, and it was no good.

  Dailan was about to tell Emmi to land and round up their warriors, but the cloakers beat him to the first move. They all lifted their arms at the same time, launching flying Infernos around until the whole sky was alight with black plumes. The buildings that hadn't already been knocked half down were on fire, but a lot of the kaiyo had succumbed, and quite a few of the greenie handlers, too. It struck Dailan that the cloakers hadn't been attacking the Aquilinians, but helping them. But, why would they want to go and do something like that?

  Dailan pressed his eye against the farscoper, looking for any clue as to what they were about. They all pulled swords from the underfolds of their cloaks and started wailing on the kaiyo. Dailan wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't see it with his own one eye. He kept scanning, and another black cloak popped up at the mouth of an alley a few blocks west. This particular cloaker must have been massive—it looked like a black baby elephant had landed right on Quinning Avenue! The fabric shrugged off the body and Dailan realized it wasn't one big person at all, but three, and he knew two of their faces. The shriveled old High Priest Galvatine, and the gilded pompous warhorse, General Farraday, had both come from the cloak's vortex with another mage. It was a sight Dailan would never have bet on seeing in a thousand years.

  The High Priest started shooting off orders, directing the cloakers to various places around the temple grounds. It was pretty clear they were there to stop the greenies.

  Farraday's boot stepped onto a big pile of bricks that had once been the facade of someone's haberdashery. He started commanding the greenies to his attention and they started listening. Dailan couldn't hear what he was shouting, but a few of the nearby officers and handlers saluted. Since Far
raday was Saiya Kunnai's man, and it seemed like the greenies were actually responding to his command, Dailan decided to give him a louder voice. Might be he could put an end to the fighting and fangs.

  “Emmi, take us west two blocks and crouch in a low hover—don't land dock but get me low enough to take on bodies,” Dailan commanded.

  He bolted from his seat and made quick step down the ladder toward the open cargo bay. Within seconds, Galvatine and Farraday were in his sights.

  “General! Her Affianced Highness sends her howdy do's. Care to hitch?” Dailan called over the loud buzz of the engines.

  If flummoxed, flabbergasted, skeptical and delighted could be all rolled into one shiny box, that was Farraday. The boxy General jumped to the loading ramp and accepted Dailan's hand, practically pulling him out of the cargo hold. When he was safe on the deck, he turned and offered his hand to the High Priest.

  Galvatine looked thinner and wrinklier than Dailan remembered him. The weeks hadn't done much for his health.

  “Dailan, isn't it? You're the Princess' clan brother. I never anticipated seeing you, or an honest airship, here,” Farraday managed, finding a stable handhold as the ship cloudrighted a few yards.

  “I wasn't figuring on you here, either,” Dailan said. “Thought you were with the Chaos Bringer.”

  “I was,” Farraday answered. “I haven't been much of a General lately. The Chaos Bringer relieved me of command, but thanks to the aid of the High Priest and the Keepers, I mean to take it back.”

  “Looks like you've got some Generaling to do. If you need for a grandspeaker, I got a dandy one.”

  “Lead on,” Farraday said.

  “Son, where is Her Affianced Highness?” Galvatine cut in like his britches were aflame.

  “In the Prophecy room with His Majesty. She's waiting for her delivery boy to bring her a soulblade,” Dailan explained.