Without Rhythm (The Lament)

by P. S. Power

  Then, without waiting for her to respond, he turned and led her out into the open air.

  Chapter fourteen

  It was still light out as the last of the ships took off, one from the far side of the field, so nameless as far as Pran knew. Not really, but she hadn't memorized them all, even though it occurred to her now that it would have been a good idea. That way she could use them in a song or story later. Maybe she could figure it all out and write it down?

  The Guardians had moved out earlier, leaving her in charge of making sure that everyone made it out. It had seemed to make perfect sense, even to her, right until everyone else was gone and the upper portion of The Lament started to deflate, leaving the wooden support beams hollow and empty, like the ribs of some great beast left for other things to feed off of. It was a dark thing, but the clouds were too and the lightning in the distance didn't leave her feeling any better. The Captain came out with almost everyone else, except the Doctor, to make certain the lines were all tied properly and that they wouldn't tip over in when the winds got hard.

  "You, on the right... How look the heave?"

  "Solid!" The voice was familiar and odd at the same time. It was the man with the spider veins on his nose. The one that had been in town with Tammy and Dovish. There was another lady too... Also on the crew. Were they spies too? Or cult members at least? There wasn't a lot of secret information to be had on an airship after all, but that didn't mean they weren't involved. It would be worth watching them and mentioning it to someone when the Guardians got back.

  Hopefully they'd all make it. No one had spoken about it except Clark, but it was just possible that whatever old tech these people had would be too much for them in a fight. They were good, but still human after all. They all were, including the enemy. They had to be.

  It was a failing of Bard training and the art schools in particular, that tripped her up for a few seconds. After all, she could think of a thousand and two different possible outcomes, some that included ancient monsters or devices that their more sensible world couldn't match at all. She shook herself and moved back into the first line of brush, hoping that she didn't get struck by lightning. There were tall metal rods at the edges of the field to attract it away from the ship, but she didn't know how well that worked. No one seemed thrilled with the storm.

  She used to like watching them from the window of her room while she worked on whatever project she'd been assigned. Now though she had a real job and didn't have time to admire the bright streaks and peals of thunder.

  The rain followed about twenty minutes after the ship was secured and she tried to stay out of sight and mobile, using the brush to hide her, trying to blend in as best she could. It probably wasn't all that effective, but she didn't have a lot else to do. It was up to her to watch and to try to be ready, in case she had to fight. Of course if that happened it would probably already be too late. Maybe if she could get them to chase her somehow? It would be best if nothing happened, but hoping for good things had never gotten her much, so Pran decided to work out a strategy.

  Nothing much came, since she didn't know what to expect. Men and women on foot? If that was the case she'd have to be far away from them, or they'd kill her with their weapons. Fire based things, she thought. They sounded like thunder too, and killed a lot faster than her rifle would. Trees stopped them, so she could hide in the woods...

  Except that wouldn't get their attention, would it? The air rifle might, but again, she didn't want a fight, if it was possible to avoid. Her lying on the wet ground, bleeding to death... that wouldn't help anyone at all.

  When she moved to get her beam light, the night coming early, she found it wrapped in a folded piece of paper, one with three large pills stuck to it with wax. The note didn't say much, just to take one every twelve hours. She did it, hoping it wasn't a trick and that it was what Clark had mentioned. They tasted like grass, and nothing seemed to happen for a long time. Half an hour or more. She drank half a bottle of water with the first one, because it made her thirsty for some reason.

  She felt the initial rush of energy after a while and it didn't fade at all, which was incredibly useful. She practiced running and hiding for hours, watching The Lament and the surrounding area as closely as she could, her mind racing the whole time. It was cold and miserable in the rain, the wind lifting her rain slick to push icy droplets under it occasionally, but she didn't let that stop her. She kept moving, never letting herself rest for too long, figuring that it would help keep her alert. It probably didn't do much, not really, but she felt better about it, even as the night sky turned to brilliant white and blue three times a minute.

  That should have freaked her out, but for some reason it didn't. She almost didn't care about the thunder either. Even if it was a loud and rolling thing that never seemed to end.

  That was something though. The sound was soft, but getting louder. Even when there hadn't been any lightning for nearly a full minute. Pran stood up and ran straight to The Lament, pounding on the front hatch with the back part of her rifle, the wood making a mighty clatter against the thick oak of the door. Finally it opened, showing Paul, who was stooped over and holding his middle with one hand, a rifle in the other.

  "Need a break? You've been out for about eight hours." He sounded slightly tense, and the whole thing creaked above them, balloon down or not.

  "Listen!" Pran didn't try to explain, but about thirty seconds later he got it.

  "Crap. We... I'll tell the Captain, but we can't lift off in these winds. It's them. Has to be." The man froze for a second then shook his head.

  "We'll arm everyone, they can't take our ship. We'll scuttle her first..."

  Pran didn't get what he meant, but nodded her head and pushed past him, a little roughly, which made him grunt in pain.

  "Sorry, I have an idea. I'll try to keep them busy. I don't know how long I can do it for, but... as soon as the winds let up a bit, you need to go." She ran then, realizing that it had to sound insane.

  What was she going to do to stop an army of attackers with old tech that probably wanted them all dead? Sing them into submission?

  That was ridiculous. No, she had to do better than that. She needed to tell them a story. One that would capture their minds so totally they forgot why they came in the first place, whatever the reason for that was. The best ones had music with them too, of course. She'd always thought that anyway. Pran ran to her little room, to find Roy just sitting in the dark, his face scared when she opened the door.

  "Won't be a second. I just need my... Lute I think. Here... help me wrap it in my slick." She pulled the pack off first, then the slick, which she tossed to the boy, who was made instantly wet. It was a horrible idea, taking an instrument out into the damp like she was planning, but it wasn't a normal situation at all. Roy didn't speak, just holding the green material out for a bit so that she could work.

  "What are you going to do?"

  Pran laughed, realizing that whatever the drugs were that Clark had given her, they didn't just work to keep a body awake. She wasn't scared at all and felt a little manic. She smiled and took the wrapped instrument.

  "Buy time. Maybe. If not, you and Paul will defend the ship. Remember, try to avoid being hit by bullets." It sounded like sage advice to her, but the young man made a face.

  "Right. I don't know how to shoot, not really. What am I supposed to do?" It held a plaintive edge, his homely face made almost cute by the forlorn expression on it for some reason. Probably mental illness on her part. No normal person would be thinking about things like people being cute in a situation like that would they? On impulse, half blaming the drugs, she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't a very good kiss, she didn't think, but he returned it with greater skill and didn't seem to mind.

  "Don't die Pran."

  "You either. Deal?"

  "Deal." He hugged her a little and then let go as she started to struggle, not having time to hang out and have sex. She had something else to do.r />
  Something that was only half planned and made no sense to her at all. She ran to the door and into the night without hesitation, the sound of growling thunder moving toward her position fast. She ran straight toward it, wanting to fight as far away from the ship as possible, if it came to that. It was a good idea, but harder to run holding both her rifle and the lute. She needed both so she made it work, moving well down the road before spotting the dim lights moving toward her. Moving lights. Electric ones.

  They were like eyes in the rain, shining brightly. Three sets of them. The only thing that let her make out the odd shapes were the lights of the vehicles behind them. They had wheels, but inside strips of something, and moved fast, like a horse at a trot, the backs of the things rounded like covered wagons.

  Nothing pulled them. They just moved, growling into the darkness, letting everyone for miles know what was coming. She needed to get them to stop, and hopefully to not make any more noise. They couldn't hear her story otherwise, could they?

  The sane thing to do, of course, would have been to wait for them to pass, or maybe just to run off and hide. She was a Bard after all, not trained to fight. She wasn't a Guardian, not even a trainee. No, she wasn't a fighter at all. She was just a girl.

  One that had to stop these people from hurting her friends. Somehow. She let the story start to bloom inside her, seeking to get out.

  She stood in the road, rifle in hand, the lute still held in the other, waiting for them to come. She smiled as they came at her, voices yelling as they stopped, people pouring out around her. Well in front of her. It was almost perfect.

  Plus it had killed almost ten whole seconds already. They were fast and efficient, but they didn't tackle her. That was probably because she was laughing manically.

  Pran did something she didn't think was possible and tossed the lute in the mud in front of her.

  "That, is closer than you want to be. You know how you made that house burn the other day? Well, the Guardians have that trick too. One similar enough to it at any rate. I was told that it's a little better than what you used? Anyway, that, is my lute. Inside it is a thing that none of you will survive if you touch it. Just thought I'd mention that. Anyway. You're all my prisoners. Throw down your weapons and lay on the ground or I'll be forced to harm you." It sounded like a load of manure to her, but no one rushed her.

  "Bomb? This boy says he has a bomb? The Guardians?"

  They discussed the idea for a few minutes, one of them finally walking forward, pulling back a riding hood, letting his handsome face show.

  "Apprentice Pran? I like the new hair." Dovish spoke clearly, not sounding like he was all that slow anymore at all.

  It was supposed to take her off guard and did. The idea of the man being smart took some getting used to, but she wasn't the only person that could pull tricks like that either, was she?

  She used her free hand to rub at her scalp, drawing everyone's attention to it, several rifles being held on her.

  "Oh? Thank you. Now, explain to your friends why the Guardians would send me out here to die, will you? I'd rather avoid that part, ceasing to exist, but... well, it will mean more coming from you." She smiled then, no doubt looking wild and insane. She glanced at the lute and shook her head. It was wrapped but no doubt getting all wet as they stood there talking.

  "We need to move back I think. I probably shouldn't have thrown that down like I did. Not the world's most brilliant move I don't think." She chewed her lip, feeling honestly anxious about it.

  Several people, ones that she couldn't make out at all moved to talk to Dovish, who actually seemed a little out of breath.

  "She's from the ship, a disgraced Bard that some Guardians were using for sex or something. Nice girl, not a boy. The hair is different. I don't know why she did it, but when she played in town it was gone. Other than that, I..." He waited then, looking at her as if wanting the rest of the story.

  Perfect. No one even shot her, which they probably should have.

  "Mara and Clark weren't using me for sex... Ridiculous, they're Guardians after all. As I am. I was brought in like I was to find the infiltrators in the fleet. Hence the story about me being kicked out of art school. That was a bit of a stretch, because no one would do that on the last day like that. I was too old to sell the plan otherwise however, so we ran with it. I have to admit, it took me a bit to figure out that you were one of them Dovish. Tammy never mentioned that part. I suppose she'll have to be tortured later, to see what else she knows. Don't I feel silly for recommending leniency now." That part was true. As far as Pran knew Tammy hadn't mentioned that at all. It meant the woman was probably hiding more.

  The other people on the ship? Pran shrugged, trying to play it off.

  "I earmarked the others of course. The Judges will have the truth out of them quickly enough. Now, if you'd all be so kind as to put those weapons down, so that I don't have to hurt anyone? That would be preferable." She gestured a little, smiling, as if it were a joke. They did laugh. A few of them near the back at least.

  A large man in dark clothing stepped to the front, and handed his weapon to Dovish. It got everyone's attention.

  "So, if I have this right miss, you're claiming to be a Guardian? I thought they used a different sort of weapon?" He sounded sly and smarmy, like a person that thought they'd figured something out. As if their lack of understanding meant they were clever.

  "That's right. But if I bring that out you're all likely to die, so I'm trying to keep the whole thing calm. You might want to step back a bit..." She pointed at his feet then, using the rifle barrel. He was standing right by her lute after all. "I don't actually know how those things work. I was just given it to deliver."

  The man looked down, edging toward the thing slowly, the package awkward in shape and near colorless in the rain, except from the bit of light from the vehicles eyes.

  He bent down then and started to fumble with the edges a bit, pulling them to the side carefully, taking a long time to do it, while everyone else stood watching. Pran didn't say anything else, holding her breath anxiously. If he found the lute...

  He did and then, just as carefully pulled back, his face a lot more scared suddenly.

  "We need to back off. No Bard would throw a musical instrument in the mud like this, so this girl must be what she said. Some kind of special Guardian."

  Pran smiled then waved at the thing on the ground lightly.

  "I never said I was special. Um, does anyone know what time it is?" She looked around, trying hard to fight for alertness in the near total dark. The lights from the things had stolen her ability to see, a little bit at any rate. She waited, as if actually expecting someone to answer.

  Oddly enough a person in the back did. A man.

  "Three-twelve in the morning."

  "Oh..." Pran backed away and to the right, leaving the package, her new lute, sitting in the mud, half uncovered. She wanted to cringe, but pointed at it instead.

  "I... don't know what's supposed to happen, but I was told to be at least half a mile away from that thing by three-twenty two. I..." She turned and ran, calling out in a panicked voice.

  "Now! Now!" It didn't mean anything and she stopped after a few seconds, fighting to move like a real Guardian would, without pattern, almost vanishing into silence. It didn't work very well at all, but she did hear the vehicles trying to turn around after a bit.

  She also heard voices in the woods.

  "Don't let her escape!" It was Dovish, his words crisp and angry sounding. "If she tortured Tammy she needs to die."

  Well, it wasn't the best thing to ever hear, but Pran would take it. They were running, except for the ones after her. Act one of the story was set then. Now it was time for act two. The problem that would surprise them all.

  Only she didn't have any idea what that was going to be at all, so she just ran instead. It was dark enough that the people following fell behind too easily, even as she huffed and puffed noisily in the night. The wind
covered the sound too well. Sighing she stood for a bit, waiting for them to catch up, resting, her rifle pointed with the safety off.

  She was nearly bored by the time they got to her, some ten minutes later.

  "This way!" Pran made her voice as deep as she could manage and started to clatter forward, crashing through the brush clumsily, as if she couldn't see it.

  "I heard her, follow me!"

  Then she ran again, calling out every few minutes. It worked a little too well, since it meant that one of the women was able to close with her, ending up in front of Pran suddenly, a beam light out, showing her clearly. The shot came without hesitation, but Pran knew that it was all she could do. She didn't feel sick or anything, the drugs keeping her from feeling anything except excitement. Or if not the drugs, the situation was doing it. She shot three more times, the woman going still. Each one sounded like a loud cough in the night.

  Pran took the wind-up beam light and set it on a branch that waved in the wind. It wanted to fall off, but she was able to tie it on after a second, taking a lace from the jacket that the dead woman wore. Then she started screaming. It wasn't calling out, but pure, cold and bloody bellowing. The kind of thing that spoke of pain and impending death. At least in a play it would have.

  The light waved in the breeze as she got away from it, setting up so that she could see who came. Hopefully at least. No one did and the light went out on its own after a while. She heard voices, but they were farther away, not closer. They were leaving.

  She followed. Her job was to buy The Lament time. It was way too windy to take off still, so it was up to her to do something about it. She had to back track to the road, finding the lute still in place. As much as it hurt she left it, knowing that it was the only thing that had really kept the big devices from the past at bay. As long as it was there, it could protect the road. It wasn't the only road though. There were three. The simplest thing now would be for the attackers to just back track and go around. That would take time, but not all night. The split was only a few kilometers back after all. Worse, she didn't know which one they'd take. She wouldn't get two chances either. If they took one and she went to the other it was all over.