by L. E. Horn
Michael had found a unit of Fang commandos. Or, rather, they’d found him.
He stood in their center—the blood-coated Vertraax sword a blur of motion as he swept it in a lethal figure-eight pattern in front of him. His feet were almost as dangerous as his sword. They were rarely on the ground for more than a second at a time as he jumped and spun with powerful kicks, setting his enemies up for the whirling sword.
A Gryphon tactic, that one, Drake thought. When did he pick it up?
At some point, Michael must have run the laser rifle dry, for he no longer carried it in his hands. The Farr soldiers gathering around him were a cut above average, their stance wary as they assessed the best way to bring the big man down.
Drake didn’t give them a chance, he let loose with his rifle, clearing a path. The survivors turned on him, and he shouted to his friend as he fired at the swift moving, dodging forms. “Michael! This way! Now!”
With a growl, Michael obeyed. The sword flashed in the dim light as the strike of the plasma cannon cast him in silhouette. Even the stalwart commandos ducked away as the big form charged through. A few were not fast enough, so Michael snatched another rifle from a limp hand before following Drake through the smoke.
Drake let Michael catch up before shouting at him, “Time to go.” Gore covered Michael’s large frame and blood streaked his face around the feverish blaze of golden eyes. Drake wasn’t sure Michael heard him, but he saw a flash of pointed teeth as the big man snarled.
“We’ve got to go. Now!”
They steered back to the cliffs. Ahead, Drake saw swift movement up the canyon walls as the team members activated the lift motors on their ropes. He saw Tomas helping Sean ascend while others offered cover fire. Drake mentally counted them off as he ran. Two, three, four—he jumped over a smoking fire—five, six—sidestepped a falling Farr as Michael’s rifle shot him—seven, eight.
Drake made it to a rope. He triggered the motor, and it carried him up. The rebel captain paused when he reached the ledge to throw a rope and lift motor for Michael. Then he looked back.
No sign of Michael.
Drake cursed. He spotted the big man battling with a trio of commandos a distance away from where his rope dangled. Bracing his rifle against his torso, Drake fired at a group of Farr closing in on the battle. “Michael!”
A dark form dove past him, hitting the ground in a cloud of dust and sprinting toward the melee. With a sinking heart, Drake recognized Andrea. He gritted his teeth and shot again, laying down a rain of laser fire that caused the commandos to duck for cover.
Andrea grabbed a Fang by the arm; the commando collapsed without even so much as a scream. His heart in his mouth, Drake watched as Michael moved to cover the unarmed Healer with his body. The big man sliced through one commando and fended off the other by allowing the Farr knife to sink deep into his arm before taking the alien’s head off with his sword. Then he lifted Andrea as though she weighed nothing and sprinted for the rope. Mouth working in a silent prayer, Drake continued to lay down cover fire until the rifle flared and died. The surrounding rock lit up with lasers as the three forms ascended on ropes toward safety.
Hands reached to boost Drake up and out of harm’s way. Beside him, Michael one-armed himself over the rim with Andrea held in the other.
Panting, his heart racing, Drake crouched at the edge and took stock of the soldiers collapsed around him. We’ve done what damage we could. God willing, it will be enough.
Chapter Thirty-One
THE GRYPHON SHIP PROVED SURPRISINGLY roomy inside.
Of course, Lianndra thought, it has to accommodate full-sized Gryphon.
Instead of seats, each control station possessed a series of pads and straps designed to support a Gryphon while standing. These rotated and slid along metal tracks that allowed adjustment for the miniGryphon. In the center of the bridge, the apparatus yielded to a single seat retrofitted for Lianndra, complete with safety harness. Long wooden rods extended like wings along its sides. The Darkon’s talons would anchor them in the wood and they could weave their tails into the support mesh installed behind the perches. The Darkon could not be harnessed since they needed mobility to make the direct physical contact between Healers and themselves—a necessity for telepathic connection.
The shield weakened with each blast of the plasma cannon. It’s time to go, Lianndra thought.
Squeaks signaled the entrance of the guests of honor who arrived on the arms of three miniGryphon. As if they knew what they were there to do, they chittered to themselves and hopped onto the perches. There were fifteen assigned to each Healer. Based on Lianndra’s suggestion that more Darkon may add to the power available to the Healers, Virra ordered the entire complement split between the three ships. Tarin’s mountains may be home to an untold number of the little creatures, but the captive Darkon were the only ones used to being handled. They were comfortable enough with the Healers to permit the close contact necessary for telepathic communication.
Lianndra seated herself and wrestled with the harness. The crew stepped into their restraints with the fluidity of long practice, making her wonder how often these guys had flown. She stared at her straps in confusion. Then an image of how the silly thing worked flashed into her brain. As she snapped the lock down, a Darkon trilled and she looked into its swirling eyes. Did you just tell me how to put this on? She couldn’t be sure if the image came from the critter. They wouldn’t know how to fit a harness to a human. The Darkon that trilled made a chortling noise, startling Lianndra further as it hopped onto her shoulder and wrapped its tail around her neck.
Fine, she thought at it, be a know-it-all. Just don’t strangle me the first time we hit a speed bump.
The ship shuddered and moved along the conveyor to the launch site. Lianndra now understood that although the Gryphon ships were capable of atmospheric flight, using the engines within the shield while at full defensive capacity would fry the electronics. They must stay shut down while they rocketed skyward. The ships remained dark and silent as they glided along.
Through the viewscreen, Lianndra saw the noses of two other ships moving along their conveyors. Only three ships carried Darkon and Healers, the remaining two provided support.
She experienced renewed regret. It would have been great to have all five ships armed with Darkon and a Healer. With an effort, Lianndra focused on the next few seconds, and she tried not to think about the risks involved—about the split-second timing required to get all the ships space bound. And that’s the easy part! She thought about Olive and Tara and the last hug they shared before boarding their ships. And she thought about Michael. Where is he now?
Before they boarded the ships, Virra told them the ground battle had begun. To prevent any chance of the Fang catching wind of their strategy, Virra is out of communication with them. How are things going—is Michael okay?
Leaning back in the seat, she closed her eyes, remembering his beautiful gold and silver gaze, the feel of his strong arms around her, the sound of his heart beating against hers. “Keep him safe,” she said to anyone who might be listening. Keep them all safe.
She couldn’t see all the Gryphon ships through the viewport but knew they needed to launch from separate pads simultaneously to ease rapid transference through the shield. Around them, the ground shook as another plasma cannon beam struck the shield. The scout ships trembled on the conveyor, and the Darkon gripped their perches a little tighter, weaving their tails into the mesh.
Despite having mentally linked with them, Lianndra still had many unanswered questions about the Darkon. Do they live in the moment or can they perceive what the future holds? Do they understand the importance of this mission? The little creatures seemed focused as they crouched on their perches, braced against the mesh, staring out the viewscreen. Maybe they know what’s going on and what our end goal is? The Darkon tail tightened a little against her throat. Remember, don’t throttle me, she thought at him.
Ahead, an enormous door
retracted into the ceiling, and the ships traveled through it into the launch bay. The door closed, and the ships tilted, rotating until their noses pointed to the sky. Pressed against the seat’s back, Lianndra wondered about the difficult task ahead for the pilots. Launched with all their systems shut down, the moment the ships cleared the deactivated shield they would be cold-started, cloaked, and on the move. It would take split-second precision from the crew.
If we get through this alive—she clutched the arms of her seat a little tighter—I owe them big time.
Overhead, she saw a complex set of doors swirl open. The ground beneath them trembled from a nearby detonation.
Part one of the distraction, Lianndra thought.
For a moment, they were immobile. Then the rockets exploded, and she was thrust backward in her seat. She caught the briefest flash of trees, rock, and cloud. Then nothing but blackness.
THE SKY BARELY GLIMMERED WITH the first rays of light when the old warrior, Kesar, pitted his army against the Tlok’mk forces.
Between the Gryphon and the Tlok’mk army, trenches stretched across the canyon floor. Fifteen feet deep and ten across, multiple rows were narrow enough for a Gryphon to jump, but wide enough to stop just about anything else.
The Gryphon army started its charge far up the canyon to allow the warriors time to reach their full galloping stride. Kesar timed it to coincide with a plasma cannon burst. The Gryphon’s thunder merged with the shaking ground as they raced toward the Tlok’mk front line.
They did not catch the Tlok’mk off guard. Drake’s attack in the night awakened the entire army and put it on the defensive. Nevertheless, the approaching Gryphon caused panic among the frontline Blooddancers, who were unwilling and unprepared to face such a foe. They tried to run, but there was no escape. Throughout the front ranks, women screamed and fell writhing to the ground as the surviving Farr commanders used the collars to force them forward.
The success of Drake’s initiative became clear; he had knocked out many Tlok’mk that controlled the frontline slaves. The free slaves flinched from the oncoming Gryphon. Individuals not under their collar’s influence carried those still under control away from the canyon’s center, toward whatever shelter the edges provided.
In the panic-induced chaos, several slaves stumbled into the trenches dug by the Gryphon. When the first slaves fell in, a ripple of sensed opportunity traveled through the others. A few jumped in on purpose to shelter from the battle. Then they flowed into the safety of the trenches like a human tide.
The Tlok’mk army ignored the fleeing slaves and pushed those remaining under their control forward. As the Gryphon appeared out of the dim morning light, the Tlok’mk opened fire with their laser cannons.
Creatures of movement, the Gryphon embraced a mobile battle strategy. The army morphed as it rolled forward, dividing into distinct sections. Traveling with flowing strides, the swift moving, long-legged individuals pulled ahead and spread out across the canyon floor. Only exceptional eyesight would enable anyone to spot the narrow band of netting stretching between each pair. Dodging the cannon fire, they jumped the first trenches and hit the front lines. They plowed straight into the confused mass of slave soldiers and panicked Blooddancers. The nets between them swept the slaves together, knocking them off their feet. Galloping in an arc, the teams of tall young Gryphon crossed the nets back on themselves, gathering the mass of slaves into a flailing ball of human bodies. As the Gryphon retreated, they dropped the netted slaves into the trenches before retreating along the canyon’s edge, making way for the oncoming army.
Unstoppable, terrifying, and deadly, the battering ram formed by the heavy guard rolled forward like a tsunami wave. The trembling earth discharged a cloud of thick dust that disguised the advancing, heavily armed warriors. Agile despite their size, they jumped over the trenches full of slaves and crashed straight into the Tlok’mk army.
Instantly overwhelmed, the front line crumbled. The massive Gryph warriors ignored any slave who broke and ran. As the Gryphon smashed their way into the heart of the Tlok’mk forces, the laser cannons fired at point-blank range. Gryphon and slaves alike fell, screaming from the burning rays.
Despite the laser cannon, the huge Gryph’s sheer weight and power carried their momentum forward. With their swinging swords, wickedly clawed feet, and the metal spikes attached to their whipping tails, they spawned death from every angle. The humans riding the big aliens protected the back and sides of their Gryphon partners with knives, swords, or ancient laser rifles. Combined with the weapons held by the Gryphon, each partnership proved an intimidating force. They were invincible to anything other than the laser cannons.
Slaves broke and ran from the heavy guard bearing down on them. Behind the huge males darted the light guard. More agile, the swift females and young males struck like lightning and dodged the heavy cannons, slicing through anyone who stood in their way.
As they pushed back the Tlok’mk army, Gryphon and freed slaves worked to pull other slaves from the trenches and escort them away from the battle. Stumbling, running, some carried by Gryphon, they struggled to get clear. The Tlok’mk army hemorrhaged slaves, but as more broke and ran, the laser cannon mowed through them.
With his mental finger on the battle’s pulse, Kesar sensed when the momentum ebbed. To continue pushing would cause increased casualties. His amplified whistle echoed off the canyon walls, and the heavy guard wheeled like a giant flock of birds, graceful yet deadly. The light guard provided cover for their retreat by penetrating deeper into the enemy’s ranks. Then they used their superior speed to turn and follow in the wake of the heavier warriors.
As they retreated, the Gryphon army grabbed those who were fleeing and lent a shoulder to many of their own. The fleetest warriors staged a feint-and-attack campaign just beyond the trenches until everyone could flee. Only the dead remained in their wake.
Kesar pulled his people well out of range and reformed the line. Rebel humans helped calm the terrified slaves, escorting them to where Healers worked to disable collars. Many appeared as afraid of the Gryphon as they were of the Tlok’mk.
The old Gryph braced for pursuit but the enemy was in no position to push any advantage since chaos ruled their army. Kesar stood and surveyed the carnage, while his mind ticked over the options. Karn’s net idea worked well. It saved the lives of many slaves and swept them from the tide of battle. The sun rose on the bodies that covered the ground between the two armies. Screams echoed from the slaves remaining within the Tlok’mk’s reach as the commanders tried to regain control.
The Tlok’mk will attempt to transfer the slaves’ collar control to the surviving commanders, he thought. That will take time. Time I do not intend to grant them.
There were too many bodies lying in the blood-soaked sand. It could have been so much worse, Kesar reminded himself. Drake’s mission had obviously found success, knocking out most of the Farr command. But Kesar’s heart bled for the lost lives.
We will stop the Tlok’mk and free the slaves, he promised himself. No living thing should ever have to fight someone else’s war.
FROM ATOP THE YOUNG GRYPHON’S back as it galloped, Drake heard the roar of laser fire in the darkness long before they reached Karn’s army. The tall jungle trees became visible on the horizon when the sounds stopped, leaving the humans concerned about their comrades’ fate.
Silhouetted by the rising sun, Karn’s sentries hailed them. The Gryphon lowered their heads in respect when they noted the returning warriors’ bloodied and battered appearance. Drake looked at himself, and across at Michael. Even the Healers’ hair revealed the blood and gore of battle. They had worked on Sean’s leg just long enough to remove the shrapnel and bind it for travel. The blond man looked pale but remained upright on his mount for the journey. Although Tomas lacked riding experience, he’d given a good accounting of himself during the long gallop. His blood-encrusted clothing provided evidence of the passion with which the lithe young newcomer fought. We l
ook nasty, Drake thought. Luckily, most of this blood isn’t ours. They’d lost one man. One too many, but the fact we didn’t lose more is a testament to the skill of our fighters. And the Berserker.
As Drake’s group approached Karn’s army, he wondered about the source of the laser fire they heard before dawn. He glanced again to where Michael rode on the largest young Gryphon. The big man had refused to let the Healers touch his arm, opting instead to yank out the embedded Fang knife before jumping onto his Gryphon mount. At the time, with his eyes still glaring gold, Michael spoke in monosyllables. The ride appeared to have calmed him and he lifted a corner of his lip in a smile when he met Drake’s stare. He raised a hand with three fingers showing.
A normal, human hand, Drake thought. He saw no sign that the long fingers had ever grown wicked claws. Although he noticed the younger man’s eyes were healthy pure silver, he remained uneasy. The Healers have claws, but they’re permanent features. They don’t come and go. Are those mutagens still working away on Michael? Where did those claws come from, and more importantly where have they gone?
Hannah healed Drake’s single deep wound, a gash on his leg. He told her to leave the minor nicks and cuts to save her energy for more serious wounds. We are far from finished. There will be more blood to come, Drake thought.
At the rear of Karn’s army, a group of Healers worked on the wounded. Given the number of Gryphon being attended to, whatever battle they’d been in before dawn cost them dearly.
Hannah encouraged her young Gryphon to go alongside Drake’s. His face grew warm as she leaned over to give him a brief kiss. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tomas waggle his eyebrows, and noticed Michael’s wide grin. Public displays of affection might make me uncomfortable, but my Hannah is a force to reckon with, Drake thought.
Ignoring the men’s antics, or oblivious to them, Hannah kept her hand on his arm as she spoke. “If you don’t need us, we’ll take Sean and give the other Healers a hand. They look like they could use help.”
