by S D Smith
Mrs. Weaver took Picket’s hand. “You accepted him too, my dear. You were just what he needed.”
The building shook with a sudden thundering above. Picket glanced at Emma, then rushed for the stairs to the roof.
Chapter Forty-Seven
A DESPERATE SKYFIGHT
Picket labored up the stairs and emerged onto the palace roof amid the chaos of battle. Birds of prey swept in, sending long shafts that shattered stone and tore through troops who tried to repel them. The command pavilion was in pieces, and Picket scanned the scene for Helmer.
Unable to locate his master, he drew his sword and rushed at the nearest raptor, joining with several soldiers bearing long pikes. The bird broke through the pikes with ease, swatting away the soldiers. The blow drove Picket hard across the rooftop and over the edge.
A few moments later he swept over the lip of the roof and landed again, narrowly rising over a hurled spear that blasted apart the palace’s original rooftop shed. Rushing on, he leapt from his good leg off the roof again, this time with more speed, and caught an updraft that he rode back to attack the raptor.
The bird turned, beating its wings as it adjusted to strike at Picket. Just as he neared the Preylord attacker, Picket disengaged the glider and flew straight at his enemy, sword flashing in the sun.
The raptor slashed out, but its killing stroke was thwarted when a hail of arrows went home and several pikes found their mark. The bird faltered, eyes wide in shock. Picket, his way now clear, drove home the killing blow with his blade.
The raptor fell dead as Picket landed roughly on the palace roof, amid scattered cheers. Picket limped away and collapsed a few yards from the signal station.
“Are you all right, son?”
Picket turned to see Helmer rushing up, a bleeding wound on his head but a smile on his face.
“I’m fine. Let me at the next one.”
“On your feet,” Helmer said. “They’re coming.”
They were coming.
The raptor that had reached them first had outstripped its comrades, and now more were nearly on them. Beyond, over near the dam at the top of the wall, a pitched battle was raging as two massive Preylord raptors tore into the remains of the wolf barracks and loomed over the edge of the battered wall.
Picket grabbed a glass and saw that the massive raptors were two of the Six. He cried out as Jo was swept off the wall in a terrible strike from the eagle’s talon.
As he fell, Jo nocked and shot an arrow at the foremost, the eagle. The shot went home in the eagle’s heart, but the arrow somehow followed on through the enemy, emerging to sink into the next raptor’s head. Picket gasped, dropping the glass as both raptor kings fell dead.
Picket started for the edge of the roof, but Helmer grabbed him firmly. “Stay here, son.”
“But Jo’s in—”
“He’s fine. See.” Helmer pointed to Jo’s uneasy landing below. “We need to see them off.” Helmer pointed at the raptors who remained, now undone in a shocking frenzy while the defenders’ energetic efforts began to pay off. Picket nodded and took his place alongside the soldiers holding the rooftop. Alongside his master.
Soon, to the rabbits’ stunned disbelief, the raptor horde of the second and third waves was beaten back.
Emma emerged on the roof the moment Helmer gave the okay. She thanked the soldiers as she helped tend the wounded.
“Well done, Lord Captain,” she said. “How can this be?”
“It was Jo,” Helmer replied, “and the Highwallers. I can’t believe what I’ve seen.”
They explained what Jo had done, and she shook her head in disbelief.
“Is the alcove still secure?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Highness.” Helmer, as if waking from a dream, sheathed his sword. He seemed shocked to be doing so, as if he never expected to put his blade away again.
“You will need it again, soon, Lord Captain,” Emma said. “You’re certain it was two of the Six?”
Whit trudged over, stumbling as he came. “It was two of the Six, all right. I saw them straight off. Had them in my glass and saw them tear through the barracks. Then that speedy fiend got here quick and sent spears that nearly took my head off.”
Emma hurried over to tend to her brother’s fresh wounds. “Oh, Whit!”
“I’m okay, Emma. But I saw Jo’s shot too. I would never have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes.”
“Mrs. Weaver was right, then,” Emma said, expertly assessing Whit’s injuries and reaching into her satchel to find the right supplies. “They came in a pair, two of the Six. Now three are dead. We can expect them to double up again.”
“They might all come, along with Morbin himself,” Helmer said. “Then we may be forced to use the alcove early.”
“Do we still have the red flare?” Emma asked, looking past the bandage she was applying to Whit’s leg to the signal station.
“Warken!” Helmer called. “Find out if we still have the red flare.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Lord Captain,” Emma said, frowning at the free-bleeding wound on Helmer’s head. “You are hurt.”
“It was a rough round,” Whit said, groaning as Emma tied off his wrap and turned to Helmer.
“I’m fine,” Helmer said, wiping fresh blood from his eyes.
“You can’t see,” Emma said, “but you’re fine? You don’t need to see to lead my army?”
Helmer squirmed a moment, then frowned as Emma cleaned the wound quickly and sewed the gash closed.
Lallo and Harmon appeared, glider packs strapped on. Lallo bowed to Emma, then to Picket. Helmer’s brow raised, causing Emma to slap his head lightly.
“Sir,” Lallo said, “the bucks heard the blasts and are restless. They sent us to beg you to let us into the battle.”
Helmer twitched, but Emma shook her head. “Hold. Still.”
“Harmon, get back and help them settle down,” Picket said. “The princess will need them soon. The first challenge is to get them ready to fight. The second is to help them understand how they fit into the overall strategy. The first is done. Give them the second, if you can.”
Helmer clapped his mouth shut.
Harmon nodded.
“What about me, sir?” Lallo asked.
“You stay with me,” Picket answered, “and I’ll send you for the rest when the time comes. Harmon, be ready with the alcove squad soon. Keep the rest steady and ready.”
Harmon saluted and hurried back, his face set in a respectful frown.
Lallo tried to hide his smile. Picket thought he looked like a youngster who had managed to escape punishment after a reckless caper. He is so young. I must not fail him.
Picket looked over at Helmer. His master’s tender expression was surprising in that moment.
Lord Blackstar ran up, breathing hard. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing to Emma. “There are no known assets left in the city capable of firing. We are down to our own arms.”
“May they be strong,” Emma said.
“The wolves are breaking through,” Warken called, pointing east.
Picket ran to the edge and gazed at the battle for the east wall. The Highwallers were trying to re-form after the last attack, but there was no covering fire from the rabbit archers, and the wolf host surged ahead, pressing the gap with renewed ferocity.
Picket turned to Helmer. “We have to help! Let’s relieve them, get the Warrenguard out, and then bring the flood.”
Helmer looked from side to side, face pinched. At last he met Picket’s eye. “I’ll meet you there.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
HELMER AND PICKET
Picket leapt from the rooftop and sailed down toward the east wall. Wolves were tearing through the gap, and the valiant bucks battled back, trying to hold the line.
Uncle Wilfred was at their head, fighting like a hero. Picket’s heart swelled to see his kin fight so bravely. He descended rapidly, aiming for Uncle Wilfred’s place at the hea
d of the defenders. Glancing back, he saw Helmer, flying uneasily, and a few other soldiers who had been on the rooftop. More were on the way.
Just before Picket turned to focus once again on the enemy, Lallo looped around behind Helmer, a determined expression on his face. Picket’s heart sank.
There’s nothing for it now. He knew Lallo was a good fighter, having seen the young buck and his fellows fight with great tenacity at the Battle of Rockback Valley.
Picket set his jaw and flew low, sweeping up to deliver a crushing kick on the wolf his uncle was desperately trying to hold off. Landing, Picket drew his sword and scanned the field. A tall wolf sped toward him, swinging a long blade at Picket’s head. Picket ducked but was knocked sideways at once by another bounding wolf. The wolf’s jaws opened wide and went for Picket with savage eagerness. Picket couldn’t bring his sword entirely around, so he used the pommel of his hilt to clip the attacker in the lower jaw, slowing him just long enough for Helmer to end the enemy with a two-handed slice.
Picket leapt up, nodding to Helmer, and together they attacked a wolf that had pinned another defender. Helmer drew the wolf away with exaggerated swordplay, while Picket swept in and stabbed the beast in his middle. Helmer finished the villain, and they stepped away from his collapse to immediately meet another. Helmer hewed him down with an overhead hack that caught the wolf between his shoulder and neck. He fell, and Helmer followed on with Picket to the next of their foes. This wolf leapt as they came, and Picket sidestepped the swiping claws and struck the beast with a slice to his side. Helmer dove in, but his sword swipe was turned aside by the angry wolf’s strong parry. His driving reply would have split Helmer in two but for Picket’s blade turning it aside at the last moment. Instead, it caught Helmer’s left arm, tearing a bloody trench that sent the old buck to his knees with a low groan. Picket stepped in front of his master, blocking the next strike from the wolf and driving his blade into his enemy. After kicking the dead wolf free of his sword, Picket spun to see Helmer up and protecting his back from another attack. Picket surged ahead to Helmer’s left side, and the two of them took down this enemy with a feint and plunge as they had done so many times before.
Free of this enemy, he and Helmer leaned on their swords and gasped for air. Picket scanned the field and saw Uncle Wilfred near the wall striving with a wolf many times his size. Knocked on his back, Wilfred fought with determined poise. The gap in the wall behind him was just barely being held by a thin band of rabbits that Uncle Wilfred had been trying to reinforce.
Picket and Helmer exchanged a glance. They surged ahead, apprentice and master, reaching Wilfred just as the frenzied wolf drove his blade down at the overwhelmed rabbit.
The blade drove deep into the earth as Uncle Wilfred rolled aside, and Helmer leapt, connecting a powerful kick against the large enemy. Picket followed with an overhead strike, but the wolf parried and thrust a spear at Picket’s head. He dodged the spear, bringing his sword back to attack the wolf’s neck, but this again was blocked with such force that Picket lost his grip. His blade fell and the wolf struck him with a strong claw across the face, scraping him cruelly. Picket whirled and fell, rolling on the ground as a fiery pain erupted in his face and neck. He could feel blood coming, but he turned, trying to rise again as Helmer hewed the wolf’s head off with a cry of such anger it caused the nearby fighters to glance back.
The bucks rallied, and they fought on, harder than ever. The wolves battled back, their ferocity in no way diminished. Picket rose and, taking a moment to gain his balance, rushed back as Helmer plunged ahead, making for the wall. Helmer cut down wolves as he went, a fierce energy in him that, paired with his experience and intelligence, made a warrior unlike any other. He broke the wolf lines and relieved those soldiers at the gap in the wall. Battling so that the defenders cheered, Helmer led a surge that forced the wolf army back again. All those enemies left within the wall were cut down by the reinvigorated Warrenguard and their well-timed relief.
Picket charged up to hold the line with Helmer while Uncle Wilfred rallied his forces to them.
Picket fought on, and Lallo wedged in beside him. Picket was relieved to see the young fighter alive, though he saw evidence that it had not been easy.
Helmer had turned back a moment to call out a command to strengthen the right side of the gap when a huge claw tore at the old buck. His eyes bulged and his neck showed red. Picket and Lallo teamed to beat back the attacker, who fell in the gap as his comrades rushed over him to get at the rabbits.
Fresh cries erupted in the city, and Picket risked an upward glance. He saw two raptors, silver-crowned and towering, enter the city. They were followed by a host of raptors carrying incendiaries.
With a terrifying screech by the two raptor kings, the Preylords released their smoking black bombs. They landed all around the city, exploding and setting fire to the entire Old Town and beyond.
Smoke billowed into the sky, and everywhere Picket looked, fire blazed.
Chapter Forty-Nine
FALL AND RISE
Picket swiveled to find his master.
“It’s time!” Helmer cried amid the terrible din, and Uncle Wilfred nodded. Picket relayed the order as his uncle surged ahead, alongside many brave bucks. Helmer turned and ran back toward the city center.
Picket was knocked back by a fresh surge of attacking wolves. He scrambled to his feet and ran straight ahead, dodging a killing strike from a wolf as he reached the wall and leapt up to rebound off it, while wolves snapped at his legs.
Engaging the glider, he swept low and followed Helmer over the bridge and into the city center opposite the dam wall. They made for a point midway between both city walls, where several young soldiers were already gathering amid the chaos of fire and death. After sweeping wide near the dam base, where the critical alcove remained undisturbed, Picket turned back and dipped toward their planned rendezvous.
Picket landed badly, twisting his already injured knee so that he stumbled in the dust. Jo and Cole were there, battered and unbowed. They bent to lift Picket. At last, Helmer and Lallo charged up, alongside Heyward, Harmon, and a detachment of young bucks from the R.F.A.
“It’s thick now, lads,” Helmer shouted, panting. His left arm was bleeding through his torn sleeve. “But stand firm and we may tip this thing.”
“Heyward,” Cole called, “is the secondary trigger set for the dam?”
“It should be,” Heyward answered. “The first line is gone now, but the failsafe should operate as designed. Tug that line hard,” he cried, pointing to the rope coiled beside Cole, “and the dam will come down.”
Picket steadied on his good leg and rubbed at his bad knee. Glancing aloft, he saw the Preylord swarm descending from on high amid the billowing smoke. Their leaders came on ahead—two of the Six—with nothing to fear, as the last bowstrikers and every catapult had been disabled or destroyed. It was body to body, rabbit against wolf and raptor. The wolves were pressing the last of the Warrenguard. Uncle Wilfred’s band had bravely held them back beyond the east gate—at a horrific cost. Picket strained his eyes to find Uncle Wilfred but saw only a tangle of steel and fur amid twisting smoke and rising fire.
They couldn’t hold the wolves any longer—nor should they. It was time. A sheet of smoke cleared in a sudden gust as the last defenders fell beneath the ravaging advance of the wolf host. The breech teemed with wolves.
They poured in, all snapping jaws and slicing claws. They were armed with every weapon for war that might tear through the heart of the rabbit city and wreak havoc not seen since the afterterrors. In the desolate days following the fall of King Jupiter, wolf armies ravaged the Great Wood, burning and murdering up and down the forest. In First Warren, they brought fire and death, leaving a long trail of desecrated places, widowed wives, and fatherless children.
So it was with unfeigned terror that they watched the wolves race in on the young band of rabbits standing ready at the city center. Picket watched them come. A collective ga
sp sounded from the gathered watchers on rooftops around the embattled city. A raucous rumble of hundreds of growls sounded from behind, and Picket spun to see the west gate overrun with wolves. They had fought through the Terralain army at last and were pouring into the city. Now Picket and his friends faced foes attacking from both sides, as well as the raptors above. Anguished cries rose up from the rabbits watching, and Picket heard the warning shouts. These wolves, amid the blazing fires all around, were set to meet in the middle with an easy victory over these few young defenders. That fast massacre would fuel new afterterrors and finish off the resistance once and for all.
Picket stood amid his fierce fellows, eyeing both sides with anticipation. This was the ground war’s last stand, and all the rest hinged on the slim hope of what happened here.
The wolves charged closer, and Helmer nodded to Cole. Cole yanked the rope, squinting as he did, and the Fowlers all bent in anticipation.
Nothing happened.
Heyward’s plan to blow the dam by packing the alcove with stacks of explosives and tripping the flint firing mechanism remotely had failed. Now the enemy pressed in, as planned, on the young rabbits positioned as bait. But there was no trap.
Overhead, a terrifying screech sounded. Picket glanced around, seeing everything poised in the balance.
He knew what he had to do.
Picket started for the dam wall, but Helmer held him back.
“Son, stay.”
Picket had no time to argue. Helmer was tearing toward the dam, sprinting with every ounce of energy he had. He ran along the river’s surface, on the barely submerged walk-ways made by Heyward, finally reaching the small alcove at the base of the dam. The cove was packed with blastpowder in quantities never before collected. Barrels lined the walls of the cove, and Helmer bent to draw free his flint and light his torch.