"Cut those lines!" Gerrard shouted. His cannon unloaded three rounds in quick succession. The bolts grabbed Phyrexian flack from the air and obliterated it.
Tahngarth's cannon shouted. It ate away a pair of webs just before they lashed Weatherlight's hull. He shot a third time. This beam sliced through the air to punch into a set of mana conduits on the starboard cruiser's flank.
Already, the air was black with fire from the cruisers.
"What have you done?" Tahngarth roared even as he loosed a new volley. "We'll never survive the crossfire!"
"They'll never survive the crossfire," Gerrard shouted back.
Black bolts filled the air between the cruisers. Most of the shots went wide of Weatherlight. They continued on, slamming into the opposite vessel. The Phyrexian cruisers were slaying each other.
A black blast struck Weatherlight's hull just below Fewsteem's gun.
"Forget the ships!" Gerrard shouted. "They're already done for. Defensive fire!"
Over the tube came Sisay's voice. "Shall I take us out of here, Commander?"
"Sure, Sisay. Straight forward. Take us up, through the portal!"
Chapter 2
Day Trip to Rath
"Take us where?" Sisay's voice echoed in the speaking tube.
Gerrard had expected her to resist. He squeezed off two more blasts, watching gaseous plasma smack against the lateral thrusters of one of the cruisers. The mechanism melted, and the Phyrexian warship listed farther.
Through a grim smile, he called back to Sisay, "We've got to destroy the portal ship. We can't shoot it from this side."
"On the other side, there's an armada," Sisay protested, "and Phyrexians."
Gerrard spat dismissively. "Their ships are crap." As if in proof, he fired twice more. The shots soared out like twin stars and smashed through the main bridge of the cruiser. It lit lantern bright. "And their crews are no match for ours." "I agree with you there," Sisay replied.
Weatherlight surged with new speed toward the portal. The engines roared their resolve. Karn, below, was reworking the intake-exhaust ratios to maximize thrust. Weatherlight shot from the gulf between the cruisers. A whoop went up from the crew, followed by a second one, even louder.
The port-side ship foundered and plunged from the sky. It rolled massively over, its guns still firing. Webby mana trails tangled about the shuddering vessel. Explosions rocked it. The stern cracked away, propelled on red flame.
The cruiser's main body shown in cross section. It tipped on end, smashed to ground, and shattered like a rotten egg.
A third cheer erupted, cut short by a sudden explosion.
Weatherlight was still a thousand yards from the portal when a black-mana bolt struck the starboard amidships. It ate the rail and part of the gunwale and swept toward the starboard ray cannon. Fewsteem, strapped there, shouted as his gun blazed. Red energy punched through the center of the black mass. It was not enough. Inky death spattered the cannon and fell on Fewsteem. Metal hissed. Flesh turned to rot and white ash. The gun belched green smoke and went dark. Fewsteem was gone-nothing more than a pair of legs beneath a puff of soot.
Without its counterpart, the remaining Phyrexian cruiser was unloading its arsenal.
"Tahngarth, blast that cruiser!" Gerrard shouted. He struggled to wrench his gun about, but its angle of fire couldn't reach starboard aft.
"It's behind the wing!" Tahngarth shouted back.
Sisay initiated a series of swooping lunges. Ropy charges of black-mana spent themselves in empty air beside and behind the ship.
Crimson charges rushed out from the stern ray cannon. Squee stood in its traces, blasting away. The pulses danced erratically through the air. Many shots missed their mark. Others batted down the cruiser's fire. Two rounds won through the barrage and sank into the exhaust port of the main engine.
The enormous craft hiccuped. It shuddered once. Its attacks faltered.
In a sun-bright blaze, it exploded. Hunks of ship hurtled outward, trailing fire. They raced toward Weatherlight at twice her speed. Had she been in clear air, the shrapnel would have hailed across Weatherlight and dismantled her.
Fortunately, it was just then she punched through the portal.
Fortunately? The blue skies of Dominaria gave way to twisted clouds in red and black. The wide plains and deep forests gave way to volcanic rills and tortured lava tubes. Worst of all, though, in place of two Phyrexian ships, there were thousands.
Airships were stacked to the sky. As devilish as they had seemed in the sunlight, in shadow these vessels were demons in hell. Wings of skin. Dripping claws. Jetting fires. A dozen of the ships were as big as mountains. A hundred were the size of the cruisers already destroyed. A thousand were the size of Weatherlight.
"Forget the armada!" Gerrard roared. "Target the portal ship!"
Fire answered from the six remaining guns. A sunburst of scarlet energy raced out from Weatherlight. The charges soared up toward the vast metallic claw that hung in the skies of Rath. The ship seemed to glare down at them, robotic arms twitching impotently in the portal. One by one, the shots impacted the claw. Flowstone panels slumped. Fires hissed forth. The flames seemed impossibly small on that massive machine. Already Weatherlight was out of range for more attacks.
"They're getting through!" Squee shouted through the aft speaking tube.
Two more cruisers nosed beneath the portal ship, toward undefended Benalia.
Gerrard shouted. "Turn the ship! We've got to stop them!"
"Turn the ship-?" Sisay shouted. Her objection was cut short.
The portal ship spewed black smoke. Its gleaming vision of Dominaria flickered. Explosions bloomed in the joints of one pincer. It cracked free, toppled, and dropped toward the twisted ground of Rath. Like a soap bubble, the portal popped. Sunlight died. Benalish skies were gone.
Gone too were the front halves of the two cruisers. The closing portal had guillotined the ships. The shriek and groan of failing metal was punctuated by explosions from severed engines. In tandem, the cruisers' afts sputtered sparks and soot. They tipped, crashing down atop waiting craft below. In a storm of fire and smoke, five ships impacted the flowstone ground. The first power core went critical. It sent a column of black force a thousand feet into the sky and fifty feet into the ground. Hunks of flowstone pelted a second craft. Its power core cracked, and then a third. More ships went down there before the closed portal.
"Nice work for the first ten minutes of the invasion!" Gerrard shouted to his crew. "A ruined portal and a dozen ships down!"
"And ten thousand ships trapped on this side with us," Sisay warned. "We've got company."
Though cruisers and plague ships were too slow to pursue Weatherlight, the dragon engines were not. To the untrained eye, they seemed merely dragons. The sinuous constructs were as agile, as sleek, as intelligent as their natural kin. Beneath scales of enameled titanium were meshes so fine as to form skin and muscles. The beasts wheeled about and swarmed after Weatherlight. They opened jaws lined with true scimitars and breathed breath as powerful as any ray cannon blast.
"Punch it, Karn! Full speed!" Gerrard called.
"This is full speed," came the rumbled response.
"Evasive action," Gerrard shouted.
"This is evasive action," Sisay responded.
"Laying in planeshift!" Hanna called.
"Belay that," Gerrard responded. "Stay here on Rath. Lay in a course to the closest active portal ship."
"Aye, Commander."
"One armada isn't enough for you to take on?" Sisay asked through the tube.
"We'll shut down that one just like we've shut down this one."
Weatherlight jagged, her keel smashing a dragon engine that had flown up beneath it. The metallic wyrm plunged from the air to tumble brokenly across the tortured ground.
"Nice flying, Captain!" Gerrard said.
"How about you shoot some of them?" she replied.
"Yeah, how about it?"
Gerrard
's cannon blazed. Blood-red energy dragged plasma from the air. It roared down the open gullet of a dragon that swooped up to port. The eyes of the beast glowed for a brilliant moment before going black. The dragon engine's wings folded, and it plummeted away.
Two more engines soared up to take the place of the first. They spat their own fire. It mantled the fore hull and made wood instantly blaze.
Had Weatherlight been a ship of dead timbers, she would have gone up like a jack straw. But Weatherlight lived. Her hull was living wood, her Thran metal fittings grew, even her engine was a vital organ, capable of agony and joy. The silver golem attached to that engine served as a kind of brain for the machine. Together the components of Weatherlight made a powerful being, more than capable of her own defense. Sap oozed from the living hull, extinguishing the fire and salving the charred grains. The port-side landing spine jutted suddenly, and the ship rolled. The sharp metal spine lanced through the dragon engines, slicing their chests. They veered off, falling through the swarm of their comrades.
"Course locked in," reported Hanna. "A hundred miles to the next portal ship."
"They're targeting the wings!" Sisay shouted in warning.
The ship swooped to avoid a killing blast of breath. Shots from Squee's cannon destroyed the offender. Another dragon engine followed, unshakable.
Gerrard growled, "Karn, can we fly without wings?"
"Like a rocket, fast and fatal. It'll be almost impossible to steer."
"Not for Sisay. Fold the wings. Rocket us to the next portal." Gerrard expected a chorus of dissent. The others were either inured to his requests or dumbstruck.
The wings folded, ratcheting inward on chains. For a moment, Weatherlight lost lift. Then her intakes opened wide, and her exhausts narrowed to blazing jets.
"Hold on!" Gerrard shouted.
It was futile. He could not be heard above the sudden roar. Besides, anyone who was not strapped down or inside the ship would have been blown from the deck.
Weatherlight rocketed away from the pursuing cloud of dragon engines. Her exhaust vents painted the folded masts vermilion. The afterburn lit the eyes of the metallic serpents. They fell back, their jaws snapping on nothing.
As the yawing hull settled into its roaring course, Gerrard let out a whoop. "Would you believe it? All the time I spent running from my Legacy-if I'd known it was so damned much fun-"
"There has been a casualty," Tahngarth reminded through the speaking tube.
"Yeah," Gerrard acknowledged. He drew a long breath and pivoted to stare at the starboard amidships gun. The black rot that had once mantled its barrel had spent itself, hissing away to nothing. The goo had taken Gunner
Fewsteem's body with it, had burned away even the harness that had held him. Gerrard muttered, "Fewsteem. He was a brave man. There have been so many lost… Yes, that's why I ran for so long-"
"I'm picking up an even larger armada at the next portal ship," Hanna reported, her voice tense in the speaking tube. "We're going to need every gun."
"Any chance of repairing Fewsteem's cannon?" Gerrard asked.
Karn answered from the engine room. His connection to the ship allowed him to sense its every fiber as part of his body. "There is a single ruptured conduit in the plasma supply field. Replace it, and the gun will work again."
"I'm on it," Hanna said, moving away from the speaking tube before Gerrard could countermand her. Moments later, she descended from the helm to amidships, the needed part in one hand and a big wrench in the other.
He had to grin. It was classic Hanna. Her blonde hair whipped in the wind. She leaned steeply to make her way forward. She seemed so slender there, against the racing landscape of Rath, the coiling red clouds. Gerrard was glad she had a wrench to weigh her down. She reached the gun, removed a split panel, and worked at loosening the ruptured conduit.
"That's my girl," Gerrard said, shaking his head in admiration.
"Gerrard, you see what we are flying over?" Sisay asked at the helm.
He had not. Eyes that had seen only Hanna against the red turmoil of Rath now shifted their focus. His face darkened.
On the unruly hills below waited a huge army of Phyrexians. Their forces stretched to the horizons. There were no tents or bedrolls, for these creatures needed neither shelter nor rest. There were only patient ranks of troops and penned beasts to feed them. No campfires, either-Phyrexians did not need heat and preferred their meals raw, indeed live. There was not a stick of furniture and no provision for comfort-unless gladiatorial circles could be called comfort. There was only order and slavish obedience and savagery.
"Waiting to board troop ships, you think, Sisay?" Gerrard conjectured.
"Waiting for something but not troop ships. There're too many soldiers."
"Gun's fixed," Hanna announced triumphantly. She repositioned the split panel and staggered to her feet.
Sisay let out a hiss. "Incoming!"
A plague bomb dropped from a sentry craft overhead. It fell straight toward Weatherlight. The ship jagged out from beneath it, but the bomb burst in midair. Shrapnel hailed across Weatherlight's amidships. Shards bounded briefly against the planks before being ripped away on the winds.
"Everybody all right?" Gerrard shouted.
"Just a little scratch," Hanna answered. She gripped her stomach and smiled bravely. "Makes me want to fire this gun."
"The job's yours. See Orim about that scratch as soon as we're out of here."
"Look sharp," Sisay shouted. "There's the next armada."
Beyond the dipping prow of Weatherlight, a vast black cloud appeared. It swelled quickly outward until it filled the whole horizon. Instead of mist, though, this cloud was made of ships- Phyrexian warships.
There were dragon engines, cruisers, and plague ships but also hundreds of others. Many had been specified on the plans Hanna had stolen from the Mercadian hangar. Solid-hulled ram ships hovered like barracudas. Fat barges provided floating laboratories for Phyrexian vat priests. Bombers bore payloads of plague on bat-like wings. Helioslicers held themselves aloft with whirling blades that could mince whole armies. Icthus ships seemed winged spiders, with eight articulated lances for spearing merfolk. There were ship types for slaying every creature in land and water and air. They lined up to soar through the pincers of the portal ship.
"Let's not give them time to fire," Gerrard commanded. "Karn, keep the wings folded and the engines roaring."
"Aye."
"Sisay, we need perfect flying. No collisions and straight through the portal."
"I'll fling us through. You clear the way and shut the door behind us."
"Right. Tahngarth, Dabis, Hanna-we'll have just one chance at this."
"Don't worry. I'm pissed," Hanna said. She clung to the starboard amidships cannon, pivoting it fore.
"Just hold on. You're not strapped."
"Can't get rid of me that easily," she said, flashing him a grin.
He returned the look. "Here we go!"
Weatherlight blazed across Rath like a shooting star. Her engines lit the sagittal crests of the troops that crowded the land behind. Her ray cannons flung blazing light at the stacks of hovering ships ahead. Red plasma spattered arsenals, punched its way through engine walls, ripped open carapace hulls, slew the slayers on the threshold of the world.
Gerrard's cannon barked. Scarlet energy shot in a long column outward. It struck the rear stabilizers of a ram-ship dead ahead. The heavy craft pitched forward, driven over by the cannon fire. The ram head cracked into a troop ship below. The two halves of the troop ship split. Phyrexians spilled out like pepper from a mill. Weatherlight rocketed through the vacated space.
Tahngarth meanwhile lined up a shot, his bullish nostrils snorting. He fired. Red-hot energy pounded the aft of a command cruiser. The blast ripped free the flying bridge of the craft. It toppled aside, taking its controls and staff with it. The rest of the ship began to yaw slowly like a falling maple seed.
"Bull's-eye!" Gerrard shouted to h
im.
The minotaur squinted and rumbled, "Don't get cute."
Weatherlight cleared the spinning wreck. The portal ship appeared beyond, just visible through the waiting armada. The first two cruisers were making their leisurely way through.
"Save your shots!" Gerrard called. "Time this right."
In moments, they were in range.
"Aim… Fire!"
Six of the seven ray cannons could bear on the portal ship, and they all discharged. The racing blasts seemed red spokes on a vast wagon wheel. Each one soared unerringly to strike the pincers of the ship. They sparked and flared. Fires erupted from the ship. There was no time to see more.
Weatherlight shot through the portal. Blue skies replaced red. Benalia replaced Rath.
"Did it close? Did it close?" Gerrard shouted.
"Negative," called Sisay. "The cruisers are coming through-"
Four quick blasts came from the aft gun. Squee pumped the hissing weapon. Tracers stretched back to sock the bow of the half-emerged cruiser. Explosions popped along its hull.
"Great shot, Squee!"
The cruiser foundered, halfway through that hole in the sky. It listed to port. Its masts raked along the side of the portal, ripping at the superstructure. With a sudden boom like thunder, the gateway slammed closed. The prows of the two Phyrexian cruisers were severed from the rest of the ships. They fell away. The wrecks tumbled, sparking.
Benalia received its invaders with the wide-open arms of a brick wall. Each hulk shattered on impact.
"Hanna, find that third portal."
"We've got to land," Karn interrupted ominously from below. Weatherlight's wings raked out, and her engine slowed. "We're overheating."
"Fine-land-but get us to Benalia City. Get us to the Capashen Manor."
Chapter 3
When Gods Do Battle
On a lofty ridge in eastern Benalia stood two men. They might as easily have been two armies. Power armor encased their bodies. Metallic, hypertrophic, veiny-the suits were set with power-stone arrays. Thick capes draped their shoulders. Bladed battle staves leaned in their grips. Flight dynamos jutted from arms and legs. Black crystals gave gauntlets the touch of death. Whole armies had been defeated by these two men.
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