Symphony of the Wind

by Steven McKinnon

  ‘I believe so,’ said Damien. ‘One or two have made it up.’

  Sheva stole a glance behind her. ‘We will not repel another wave.’

  ‘Agreed. Fall back to a defensible position! All that matters is getting Serena out.’

  They took the steps two at a time, following Valentine.

  ‘Clear!’ Valentine yelled. ‘Come on!’

  ‘Eyes on Tyson?’ Damien asked.

  ‘Negative—hey, look out!’ Valentine motioned down. ‘Next wave’s comin’!’

  ‘Stand down!’ ordered Sheva. ‘That’s Culran Hajjar—his photo was circulated after the Remembrance.’

  Culran looked up at them, smiling. Without taking his eyes from them, he strolled up the stairway.

  ‘Something’s not right…’ said Damien. ‘He’s under the influence of something.’

  ‘Go!’ called Sheva, readying her weapon. ‘Save Tyson. Protect the girl.’

  Wrist blade. ‘I’ll handle this,’ said Damien, but doubt made his voice waver.

  ‘You’re needed up there! Neutralise the enemies who broke the line! Go! That’s an order.’

  Sheva raced down the staircase, staff poised.

  ‘Something’s not right,’ Damien repeated.

  ‘There!’ Valentine called. ‘Gallows!’

  ‘Wait! Wait!’

  But it was too late.

  Culran opened his coat and revealed the bomb attached to his chest. He looked up at Damien, smiled, his eyes like a child’s.

  Sheva dived back.

  Blinding white light seared Damien’s senses, the explosion shaking the walls.

  Dazed and blind, he called out for Kirivanti.

  Something tugged at him.

  ‘Let… me go.’

  ‘…on, Damien, we need to move!’ Valentine’s voice.

  When the smoke and rubble cleared, Culran was gone, and Kirivanti’s lifeless body lay twisted and bloodied, open eyes staring at nothing.

  Pierro’s men reached the second and third floors, but they’d separated in their haste to find Serena. Gallows took a stealthy approach, burying his knife into their lower backs or cutting their windpipes, hand clasped over mouths to muffle the screams.

  He’d lost Pierro in the labyrinthine passages, but the sound of strangled screaming and cursing told him the traps were doing the trick.

  Fury propelled him, but not the empty anger that had seized him in the opera house. This time it was tempered by hope—by the knowledge of doing the right thing.

  For too long, he’d waited to die.

  For too long, he’d let his life slip away.

  For too long, he betrayed Sera’s memory.

  An explosion split the walls around him.

  Shoving one of Pierro’s men out the way, Gallows came to the eastern balcony of the second floor. Fire had broken out below. Most of the western staircase was blown to rubble.

  He looked over—Kirivanti’s body lay there in a heap, mouth twisted, eyes staring up at him.

  ‘Gods. Sheva!’

  The explosion acted as a signal. Another wave of hostiles burst through the fissure opened by the cannon, like water bursting through a dam.

  Grief would come later. He was on a mission.

  Across the chasm of the interior balcony, Pierro turned and waved to Gallows, grinning that stupid smile of his.

  ‘There’s too many of ’em.’ Valentine appeared alongside Damien.

  ‘You two stay here,’ Gallows said. ‘Stop them getting near Couressa’s suite!’

  ‘They killed Sheva.’ Damien’s voice brimmed with barely suppressed rage. ‘We brought her into this.’

  ‘We can pass the blame later. Hold the line. You hear me? No-one gets past you two.’

  ‘Where you going?’ Valentine asked.

  ‘To find Pierro,’ said Gallows. ‘And kill him.’

  Serena turned and raced around the corner as Pierro’s goon snapped at her heels.

  ‘Idari bitch!’ he yelled.

  Blood flowed through her like rolling fire.

  Go right, then left to the end, and left again.

  Right, left, end, left.

  She pounded the floor, reaching out to a pillar and anchoring herself around the corner.

  Left, end, left.

  He was gaining on her.

  She pushed herself, breath stabbing her lungs.

  Left.

  The man’s hatchet flew past her and clattered into the wall ahead.

  Left!

  She spun around the corner, rolled under the razor wire.

  Her pursuer wasn’t so lucky.

  A red gash opened in his neck, the wire snapping and coiling on the floor.

  He coughed and hacked, hand pressed against the wound.

  His manic eyes stared into Serena, switching between pleading and hatred.

  Grim satisfaction took a hold of her. ‘That’ll teach you to-’

  A paw grabbed her from behind, covering her mouth and muffling her scream.

  Dirt and copper filled her nose.

  ‘Don’t want ya chanting any o’ that mind-snaring nonsense now, eh?’ said Pierro.

  ‘Let her go.’

  It sounded like Gallows’ voice.

  Beaten, bloodied and in more pain than he’d ever thought possible, Gallows held his sword up to Pierro and said, ‘Let her go.’

  They stood outside the second floor suites, the luxury carpet ruined by scorch marks and bloodstains.

  As expected, Pierro laughed the threat off. One of his goons twisted on the floor, clutching his throat.

  Serena struggled in his arms, but he didn’t budge. ‘Might be I’ll just hurl her over the edge,’ he chuckled. ‘Eh?’

  Gallows took another step. Pierro’s hand wrapped tight around Serena’s face.

  ‘Careful, worm,’ the giant said. ‘Or I’ll take my frustrations out on V. Just ’cause I’m in love with her don’t mean I won’t kick seven shades of shit out of her to prove a point. Hear me? Outta my way.’

  Gallows stood his ground. Beneath him, he heard the sounds of Damien and Valentine mopping up what was left of the enemy number. It sounded violent.

  Pierro burst into a peal of laughter. ‘Oh, they won’t get here in time before I snap you like a twig, mate. Even your weirdo shadow warrior. Near pissed my breeks when I saw him earlier! Zoven could use a man like that.’

  ‘You’ve got no way out,’ Gallows pointed out. ‘You won’t kill her, and you won’t let her go. How do you think that plays out? Think about it. How far are you gonna get? The Watch are on our side now. The RSF too. Zoven’s days are numbered. Thackeray’s next. Where do you think you fit into all-’

  ‘Alright, you’ve convinced me,’ said the giant.

  Pierro shoved Serena to the wall, charged, and drove a punch into Gallows’ face. He spun, spitting blood.

  ‘Two ticks, lass,’ Pierro called as he cracked his knuckles.

  Gallows spat blood. ‘Serena. Stables.’

  ‘Don’t worry, lass!’ Pierro called. ‘Right behind ya.’

  Stepping over bodies, living and dead, Serena rushed through the Hunters’ quadrant.

  She saw Damien duelling with three men at once, Valentine giving some goon hell. They were all here for her, when it came down to it. A crew, like any good Raincatcher belonged to.

  She wouldn’t let them down.

  She raced further down into the bowels of the mansion. She passed armouries, training areas and reading rooms, navigating the dizzying layout by instinct alone—delving deeper, burrowing further.

  Then at last, she found the stables.

  A whinnying sound came from within.

  ‘Sunbeam?’ she said, reading the word scrawled on slate.

  He angled his head, a vibration buzzing from his throat. His hooves came closer.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Serena opened the gate and beckoned Sunbeam closer. ‘Bloody hope this works…’

  She held out her hand, looked into Sunbeam’s eye
s, and concentrated.

  Gallows had never duelled with an unarmed opponent before. He figured it’d be easier.

  He swung the sword but Pierro was faster than he looked, side-stepping and ducking.

  Gallows ignored his body’s complaints, forced the pain from his mind. He played for time; with every swing Pierro took, Serena was closer to escaping.

  And Pierro knew it.

  His face screwed and his attacks became more feral, less disciplined. Sometimes he connected with Gallows’ jaw, sending bright lights sparking into his brain. Gallows swallowed blood.

  He retaliated with a swing, catching the giant in the torso—shearing cloth away, blood bubbling from the wound. Pierro howled with pain, saliva spraying from his mouth.

  He charged at Gallows like a bull. They rolled on the ground, growling, lashing out with blind strikes.

  They were on the level two foyer now. Gallows got up, stumbled forward, coughed blood.

  Pierro was on his heels.

  Gallows’ blade whipped around. The shortsword was good for slashing but less effective for stabbing.

  Gallows thrust it, catching Pierro above the belly.

  It stuck there.

  Enraged, the giant yanked it out, dark blood trailing from the wound. The sword went spinning over the balcony. Pierro seized Gallows’ throat and pinned him against the railing. At the back of his mind, he could hear Damien and Valentine.

  Too far away.

  Pierro rained punches onto Gallows.

  Gallows’ boot thundered into Pierro’s groin once, twice. The big man gasped long enough for Gallows to slip from his hold.

  It was an opportunity.

  Gallows jabbed and punched, but Pierro took it like it was nothing. He brought Gallows to his knees with an overhead chop, kicked him down the staircase.

  The world tumbled.

  Pierro shoved one of his own men out of the way, dragged Gallows across the floor, and booted his ribs.

  Gallows screamed and tried to crawl away.

  Pierro bent down. He reeked of fresh blood and stale sweat. ‘Don’t reckon V will go to your funeral, mate. Prob’ly won’t even tell her you’re done.’

  This is worth dying for.

  But not yet.

  ‘Like her daughter?’ he rasped. ‘You reckon Veronica will forgive you when she finds out?’

  That shut Pierro up. ‘Reckon she’ll come around after I-’

  Gallows grasped a shard of glass and gouged meat from Pierro’s face.

  Not a neck vein like he’d hoped, but Gallows made use of the distraction and got to his feet.

  Pierro tugged the shard out and discarded it. ‘Just for that, I’m gonna take my anger out on V when I see her next. Hope you’re pleased wi’ yourself.’

  Damien punched his opponent’s throat, broke his arm, and moved on to the next. Knives flew from his hands, the concealed blade on his wrist dripped with blood, and his legs spun and kicked.

  Numerous cuts lined his arms. Sometimes one had to block a killing stroke with an elbow or hand—better a scar than a slit throat.

  Valentine fared less well; she was alive, but a bluish-brown welt swelled over her eye, and she clutched at her rib.

  ‘Can’t… be much more,’ she panted.

  ‘It seems Farro Zoven has sent his entire force after us.’

  ‘At least… it ain’t Thackeray’s.’

  White light flooded the Musicians’ Guildhouse. The few windows still intact exploded as soldiers snaked down on ropes from a shimmering silver husk.

  Damien readied the batons.

  ‘Stand down!’ said a masked man. ‘I’m here on behalf of Commander Lockwood of the Royal Sky Fleet. We don’t have much time.’

  Splinters erupted as Gallows flew through the door and landed face down in a thick carpet. Pierro hurled him across the room, a table and folding screen collapsing on top of him.

  Gallows clasped a solid silver table lamp and flung it at Pierro, more to buy time while he reached for the knife.

  But he was too late.

  Pierro’s elbow scythed into Gallows’ jaw. Severe pain ran through Gallows like a current of fire, and again, Pierro struck.

  But as long as Gallows breathed, Serena had a chance of getting out alive.

  Gallows rolled out of the way; Pierro’s knuckles met the floor.

  I can do this. Gallows drew a breath to steady his nerves.

  He had to push himself.

  He had to stay alive.

  He had to hope.

  The two men struggled against each other, exchanged punches and rising knees. They were both brawlers—their instincts were honed in streets and alleys, not training and battlefields. Pierro was stronger, but Gallows was quicker; he weaved between a heavy swing and launched an uppercut under Pierro’s chin.

  It would have been less painful if he punched concrete.

  Pierro responded with a headbutt; Gallows fell back into a vast bathroom, and Pierro strode across the tiles with a whistle. If he saw Gallows go for the knife, it would all be over; the sword didn’t do much, so what chance did the knife have? Gallows shook the fog from his eyes; he had to be quick—he had to kill Pierro instantly, and he needed surprise on his side.

  Pierro lunged; Gallows ducked out of the way, replied with a left jab and booted Pierro’s shin. The bigger man slipped forward onto the floor—Gallows took the opportunity to kick his head into the porcelain bowl.

  As Gallows went for the knife, Pierro kicked out like a mule, his heel rocketing into Gallows’ stomach.

  Gallows stumbled back but kept his footing. He struggled not to vomit from the impact. ‘You don’t… have to take orders from him,’ breathed Gallows.

  Pierro laughed. ‘Oh-oh, here we go! Gonna try and reason with me, eh? It’s funny how many people do that. “Take orders from ’im”. Hah! I been spiking his water with Vaughan’s sweeties for months, making him lose his mind! Sooner Farro ruttin’ Zoven dies, sooner I take over.’ Pierro swiped at Gallows, missing by a hair.

  ‘What, he didn’t give you the raise you asked for?’

  Pierro mopped the blood and sweat from his mangled face. ‘Now, normally I give them I’m gonna kill a minute or two to pray to the Gods—never did Nyr hear so much pleading before Pierro!—but time’s a factor, mate.’

  Pierro wrestled Gallows to the floor of the living quarters. They landed on a thick rug, which did nothing to cushion the impact.

  Sour sweat reeked from Pierro. Gallows’ fingers splayed out in search of something—anything…

  He grabbed a vase and cracked it over Pierro’s skull. With the bigger man dazed, Gallows kicked him off and once again got to his feet.

  ‘She’s gone, asshole. Give it up. While I’m still letting you breathe.’

  Pierro took his time in standing. Amusement bloomed on his face. ‘Listen to ya! Brilliant stuff, mate, brilliant!’ He barrelled towards Gallows with ferocious speed, sending a flurry of hooks and jabs his way. Gallows shielded himself against some of the blows but took a jab to his stomach, winding him. Again, he spat blood.

  They struggled, both men sagging with the effort. Agony reverberated through every one of Gallows’ bones.

  ‘You okay?’ Pierro asked. ‘That one sting, did it? Aye, thought it might.’ He swung an arcing hook. Gallows ducked, jabbed the bigger man in the eye and followed up with a ferocious uppercut. Pierro actually stumbled this time.

  ‘Seems you got some tricks up your sleeve after all, you little prick!’ growled the giant.

  ‘More’n one.’

  ‘Hahaha! You mischievous scamp! You remind me of my little brother. Broke his back too!’

  Pierro pulled the Hunter closer to him and thrust a knee into Gallows’ chest, then clamped a hand around his neck and lifted him off the ground.

  Gallows couldn’t breathe.

  With no more options before Pierro choked him out, Gallows unsheathed the knife and dug it into Pierro’s arm.

  Or tried to.

>   With his free hand, Pierro seized Gallows’ wrist before the knifepoint hit home. ‘What you reckon you’re gonna do with the toothpick, eh?’

  He twisted Gallows’ hand, almost breaking it, and held it up in the air to get a look at the blade it clasped.

  ‘B-knife,’ he said, reading the stencilled lettering on the hilt. The blade pointed down, far enough away to be rendered safe. ‘What’s that mean?’

  Gallows’ thumb moved too slow, much too slow, like wading through quick-sand. Black clouds plagued his vision.

  He was going to pass out.

  ‘What’s that mean, eh?’ Pierro pressed. ‘Eh, Mister Guillotine? What does it mean? What does the B stand for?’ Pierro gripped tighter with every word. ‘Eh? What did ya reckon you were gonna do with that?’

  Gallows’ head lolled.

  Summoning every ounce of strength—of hope—he had left in him, he moved his thumb a quarter inch.

  ‘Oi, I’m talking to you! What does the B stand for? Eh? What does it stand f-’

  Click.

  The blade shot from the hilt, pierced Pierro’s eye, and buried into his brain.

  The giant collapsed to the floor.

  Gallows crawled out from Pierro’s immense weight, gasping for air. He twisted the giant’s slackened head and fished the blade from the mess of sticky gore.

  Wiping the milky white globs and dead grey of Pierro’s brain on the floor, Gallows struggled to his feet.

  ‘Ballistic,’ he said, stumbling off.

  The stable doors flew open as Sunbeam rushed out onto the street, people diving onto the cobbles.

  Exhilaration buoyed Serena, wind rushing through her hair like she was aboard the Liberty Wind. Despite everything, her heart filled with hope. She smelled the rising sun in the air, and it shone warmth on her—it rejuvenated her aching limbs and filled her stomach with butterflies.

  A current ran through her fingertips and into Sunbeam’s mind, an invisible thread connecting them. With nothing more than a thought, she commanded him as he galloped across the cobbles—leaping over obstructions and racing through Petrel’s Tail, whizzing past the boutiques and glass-fronted stores.