CHAPTER 52
Lizanne
The Hurricane exploded as they headed back to the Redoubt. There was no warning and it had been several minutes since a Red had even come close. A sudden burst of flame in the upper rear portion of her envelope followed by a booming thud as the whole structure blew apart, then she was gone, just more flaming debris falling into the sea.
“A Red must have lit a small fire earlier on,” Morva opined, face grim as she regarded the fast-fading wreckage. “Took awhile to spread.”
Lizanne refused to let her gaze linger on the sight, moving to the rear hatch as they neared the Redoubt. A quick survey of the battlefield made for unwelcome news. The second line of trenches had fallen and Spoiled and Green were mounting a fresh assault on the third. They were met by a blizzard of Growler and Thumper fire, the ground midway between the second and third trench lines becoming marked by a growing mound of dead. Lizanne discerned a lack of cohesion in the White’s forces now. The discipline and tactical organisation that had marked their previous assaults had been replaced by a seemingly desperate desire to charge straight at the human defenders, regardless of any weight of fire-power they now faced. However, Lizanne took only small comfort from the mounting enemy casualties. A brief glance to the west revealed substantial reinforcements trooping across the plain.
We must have killed close to half by now, she reasoned. But they have the blood to spend. We don’t.
At her order the Typhoon’s gunners expended what little ammunition they had left as they flew over the battlefield, aiming for the Spoiled rushing to join in the assault. It might buy the defenders some small respite. Tekela closed the throttles as they passed over the walls of the Redoubt, turning the aerostat around in preparation for landing.
“It’s flying,” she said, hands pausing on the controls as she peered through the front window.
Lizanne moved to her side, seeing the White ascending from the hill-top where it had perched for most of the battle. She turned her gaze to the sky, finding the large Black wheeling about over the plain. She quickly injected Blue and slipped into the trance, found no sign of Clay and slipped out again. What are you doing? she thought, eyes fixed on the Black as it continued a seemingly placid circular glide, apparently oblivious of the White now dragging itself into the sky with broad sweeps of its huge wings.
“Get us down,” she told Tekela. “We need to rearm.”
Upon landing she ordered fresh Swarmers loaded and went to find Arberus. He was engaged in directing the fire of cannon on the western end of the walls, attempting to impede the advance of the mass of Spoiled closing in on the outer trench line. The cannon scored hits with every shell fired, it being impossible to miss, but the Spoiled swept on below undaunted. Lizanne noticed again how all order had apparently been forgotten and they appeared possessed by nothing more than an unreasoning desire to throw themselves at the human line.
“Can you hold them?” she asked, coming to Arberus’s side.
One look at the grim resignation on his face was sufficient answer. “When the ships resumed their bombardment, I thought we might have a chance,” he said, nodding at the sea. “But now . . .”
Lizanne turned, seeing that the Reds had resumed their attack on the fleet. Their strength had been eroded in the first assault but, judging from the number of burning ships, they were still capable of inflicting substantial damage.
“Is there anything you can do?” she said. They both knew evacuation was now impossible, and there was no line of retreat from this place.
“I can pull what’s left into the Redoubt,” he said. “Since the enemy seems to have abandoned all rational tactics, it might buy us time.”
Lizanne shifted her gaze to the sky above the plain. The White was still flying towards the gently circling Black. At least I know where it’s going, she thought. “Do it,” she said, turning and running back towards the courtyard. She drew up short, however, at the sight of the Firefly taking off. The small aerostat drifted towards the walls before revving up its engines and flying away. Lizanne stared after it, quickly discerning that it was headed for the hill-top where the White had perched. Turning back to the courtyard, she saw Morva raising her arms in a helpless shrug.
“She took off before I could stop her!” she called up to Lizanne.
Tekela! Lizanne realised, gaze snapping back to the Firefly as it flew an unerring course towards the hill-top. Gone to keep her promise.
“Get on board!” she shouted, running to the Typhoon and clambering into the gondola. She flung herself into the pilot’s seat, restarting the engines and pulling back the levers to angle them towards the ground.
“We’ve only loaded half the Swarmers,” Morva protested as they took off. “And the gunners aren’t aboard.”
“No time,” Lizanne told her. “Stand ready at the ignition tube.”
She brought the Typhoon to three hundred feet, angling the prow at the now-distant silhouette of the Firefly before calling out for Morva to ignite the blood-burner. The ground blurred below as the Typhoon shot forward, Lizanne opening the throttle as wide as it would go. They had closed half the distance to the other aerostat when she saw a trio of Reds diving towards it. Lizanne looked out of the port window, seeing the White pass by in the opposite direction. Craning her neck farther she saw the huge Black finally respond to the danger, abandoning its serene glide to angle itself towards the White.
You already made your choice, Lizanne told herself, turning back to the Firefly. There was nothing she could do to prevent whatever was about to befall Claydon Torcreek, but she could still save Tekela.
The three Reds were less than fifty yards from the Firefly now. Tekela had evidently spotted the danger and put the aerostat into a sharp turn. As the drakes veered towards it they passed directly in front of the Typhoon. The range was fast diminishing thanks to their speed, bringing the Reds close enough for Lizanne to try her luck with the forward-facing guns. The first two flew through the bullet stream unscathed but she had the satisfaction of seeing the third twist in a spiral of blood, wings flailing as it plummeted down.
“Hold on!” she called out, hitting the switch that took the blood-burner off-line then reversing the angle of the port engine. The Typhoon hadn’t been designed for such sharp manoeuvring, the entire craft letting out a metallic howl of protest and shuddering as she wheeled about, bringing the Reds back into Lizanne’s sights. She blew the second Red out of the sky with a concentrated burst, then adjusted the craft’s angle to take aim at the third. It was considerably larger than the average Red and made an easy target. Lizanne let the Typhoon settle and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
“Didn’t have time to reload those either,” Morva called out by way of explanation.
Lizanne gave voice to some rarely spoken profanity and slammed the port engine back into a vertical angle before reopening the throttles. She drew back the main control lever as the Typhoon lurched forward, angling the craft to the left so Morva could fire at the Red with her mini-Growler. This drake, however, proved far more wily than most, folding its wings and slipping beneath the Typhoon, the stream of tracer missing by inches. Morva kept firing, tracking the drake as it passed underneath, then letting out a shout of surprise as the beast turned on its back and stabbed its talons into the hull. The mini-Growler was jerked from Morva’s grasp by the impact, the weapon tumbling from the hatch into empty space. She came close to following it, managing to grasp a handhold as her legs swung outside, then screamed as flame enveloped the gondola’s exterior.
Lizanne injected Black and used it to drag Morva inside, setting the automatic controls before leaping from the pilot’s seat. She let out another blast of Black to banish the flames licking at Morva’s legs, then lifted her from the gondola’s floor as the Red’s talons stabbed through the thin hull once more. Metal screamed as the talons tore at the hull, slicing open a large rent. Lizanne looked down, finding herself matching gazes with the Red and realising she had seen it before. An impressive scar marred the scales around its eye, left there by Lizanne’s exploding bullet. The beast’s gaze narrowed in obvious recognition and it renewed its efforts to tear open the hull, snout poking through and jaws widening. Lizanne threw Morva to the rear of the gondola, cast her gaze around until it alighted on her Smoker and used Black to pull it into her hands.
She unleashed all her Red as she trained the carbine on the Red’s gaping maw, scorching its eyes and jamming the barrel deep into its throat as the Redball ignited. The bullet must have met the onrushing combustible gas from the beast’s gut as it detonated, the explosion sending Lizanne into the gondola’s ceiling whilst filling the interior with a thick crimson vapour. Lizanne landed hard next to the rent in the floor, watching the Red’s talons lose their grip as it tumbled headless towards the earth.
Finding it hard to breathe and feeling the onset of unconsciousness, Lizanne pressed her Spider’s second button, flooding her veins with all her remaining Green. A certain grogginess still lingered as she regained her footing and clumsily leapt over the gaping hole in the floor to check on Morva. She was unconscious but still breathing; the burns visible through the scorched gaps in her overalls were bad but survivable. She might even walk again, Lizanne thought in bitter self-reproach. Going after Tekela without properly rearming had been a mistake driven by sentiment, not something any of them could afford at this juncture. She positioned Morva on her side and used the Spider on the woman’s wrist to inject a full dose of Green.
Making her way forward, she struggled into the pilot’s seat, resuming control and killing their forward speed. Both engines were smoking but somehow still operational, though she had no notion of how long they might last. She could see the Firefly several hundred yards off now, angling towards the hill-top. Turning her gaze south, Lizanne saw the Black and the White finally come together, both drakes spewing fire at each other as they closed so the subsequent struggle began in a nova of flame.
Lizanne pointed the Typhoon at the ball of flame and opened the throttles.