Lanaya realized that she would miss this stark stone fortress. But the forging was done, and its purpose was over. It was now a weapon itself; that would be its final purpose …
And any of the enemy who strayed too close would feel the fiery wrath of its glorious death.
#
A sharp pain burned in Jack’s right forearm, and he groaned. Raising his head, he saw that he’d cut his arm on the edge of a shattered pane of glass which still clung to the canopy rim. Much of his right shirt sleeve was red from the bleeding. He checked the wound; he’d been lucky, and no major artery was severed. Still, he had a nasty gash running from his wrist halfway to his elbow.
How long had he been unconscious? The flyer was a battered mess. Such a waste, and he’d been responsible. He felt as if he’d destroyed a beautiful piece of art. But there were more important things to worry about … Where was Ralley? He looked to the rear seat of the shattered craft, and found it empty.
“Over here!” Ralley shouted, and Jack saw that his friend stood at the center of the circular chamber, scrutinizing an ornately engraved crystalline disk on the floor.
After locating his scarlet Dragoon’s hat and placing it soundly back on his head, Jack climbed out of the craft. He looked behind them, to the tunnel they’d sped down in the flyer. No other guards were coming—yet.
“I tried to shake you awake,” Ralley said. “You didn’t respond.”
“I’m all right,” Jack said. “Just a cut. What’s that?” He nodded towards the crystal disk.
“A lifting platform,” Ralley said. “See that up there?”
Jack looked to where he pointed and saw a recessed circle of glittering crystal in the ceiling.
“It’s a door to the next level,” Ralley explained. “The lifting disk goes up to it. The controls are here.” He gestured towards a squat column set against the wall, topped with rows of small crystals that reminded Jack of the men on a chessboard.
“A door in the ceiling?” Jack asked. “Ralley, if they know we’re down here, they might—“
Just then, the circular ceiling door slid open with a hiss, and a group of guards appeared in the opening, the silver needles of their guns pointed down. They fired, and Jack pulled Ralley away, tugging him down beside the flyer.
Jack saw one of the silver needle rifles on the floor, most likely the property of one of the unfortunate soldiers the flyer had plowed over before hitting the wall.
Jack grabbed it up, fumbled for the trigger-stub on the underside of the cylindrical barrel, and fired. His first shot hit the ceiling, blasting out a small crater above them. His second was true, though, and hit one of the guards above square in the chest.
His midsection was vaporized. What was left of the man’s body fell down to the floor of their chamber.
My God, Jack thought. These were terrible weapons.
“I have to get to the panel,” Ralley said. “I can close that door.”
“I’ll keep them busy,” Jack said. He tried not to focus on Ralley as his friend stood and dashed to the panel, concentrating on the enemies above. One of their foe’s bolts hit their wrecked flyer and blew a hole in the hull only a few feet from Jack’s head.
Jack fired back, wildly covering the breadth of the ceiling door with shots. He saw one of the enemies fall backwards out of view, clipped by a shot, as the others drew back slightly …
With a faint hiss, the door above rapidly slid shut, blocking them from view.
“Ralley, you did it!” Jack shouted.
“It will hold for a bit,” Ralley said. “I think. But actually, we need to get up there.” He nodded towards the ceiling.
Jack sighed. “There’s no other way?”
Ralley shook his head, his hands still resting on the crystals of the control panel. “I don’t think so, unless we passed another door back there? Did you see one, Jack?”
Jack looked back down the tunnel. Just then, a bolt of white fire shot through the air from that passage, and they heard angry shouts.
Jack readied his gun, kneeling and aiming. Three enemy soldiers were running down the corridor. Jack held down the trigger of the silver-barreled weapon and swept the gun back and forth, creating a dancing stream of white energy which sliced them to ribbons. But the stream gave out, and when he experimentally pressed the trigger-stub again, nothing happened.
“You’re out of ambia,” Ralley said. “It’s no good.”
Jack tossed the gun aside. “Ambia? Is that what the white fire’s called?” Jack asked. “I’ve never seen such powerful weapons. Will that door above hold?”
“For a time,” Ralley said. “But they will eventually blast through. Unless they can unlock it first. I’m jamming it shut from down here.”
“It’s a choke point,” Jack said, gesturing up towards the sealed portal. “They’ll have a large force to keep us out of there. But I don’t know if going back is an option, either. The tunnel will be heavily guarded now. They have us trapped.”
“There must be a way!” Ralley closed his eyes, concentrating. “Love, can you feel me, lend me your knowledge?”
“Your lady … You can talk to her?” Jack asked. “She can hear you?” Jack knew that Ralley truly was connected to his dream-maiden somehow, he no longer doubted that … But he could speak with her, in his mind?
“She knows I’m close, Jack. I can share some of her knowledge—she is an expert when it comes to aon science. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without her.”
Ralley stood quiet for a moment, then his eyes flew wide and he turned to Jack, his voice powerful and commanding. “We will remove the compressed ambia cylinder from the flyer.”
“What?”
“It fuels both the flyer and its ambia gun. Look at the nose of craft, just behind the gun. It was jolted loose by the impact—the silver cylinder there, do you see it?”
Jack looked and saw that the needle of the flyer’s gun and the silver cup on which it was mounted were indeed loose and hanging at an angle. Behind these, the end of a silver cylinder protruded. It was a seamless tube about the diameter of a dinner plate, flat on the end.
Jack moved the broken gun-needle out of the way and they dragged the cylinder out of its socket. It was very light, and it took only a moment to do so. The cylinder was about five feet in length, and had a tiny, intricate valve near the bottom end which normally faced the rear of the flyer.
“We’ll put this on the lifting platform,” Ralley said, gesturing towards the disk on the floor. “I can work the controls to make the disk rise to the ceiling, then I’ll open the door up there to let it through.”
“But why?” Jack asked. He knew they were short on time, but he really wished his friend wouldn’t be quite so cryptic.
“It will explode when shot from a close distance,” Ralley explained. “We can shoot it from down here. Have to be precise though, and wait until the last second. And there is the danger of getting caught in the blast if we aren’t in cover.
“So we might get burned?” Jack asked.
Ralley shook his head. “No, not technically. Not with ambia. If we’re caught at the edge of it, we’re most likely to be blinded, eyes vaporized, layers of skin gone, ears, noses, any exposed extremities simply dissol—“
“That’s not pleasant,” Jack sighed.
And there was another problem. Jack searched the floor of the chamber, and aside from the exhausted needle-gun which he’d discarded, there were no other intact ambia hand-guns to be found, only fragments of silver here and there.
But wait … something came into his mind. He was reminded of the siege of Fort Lutten in the Marchien. There, they had dressed tree branches in uniform coats and hats, and held them up so that their opponents would waste their limited ammunition firing upon these “mock soldiers.”
“Ralley, what if we get them to shoot it for us?”
“How?” Ralley asked.
“Put some clothes on the cylinder. If it will stand on end—it’s about a
man’s height, right? They’ll be so eager to fire that they’ll shoot it as soon as the door opens. It doesn’t have to stand up to scrutiny. We can hide behind the flyer and, uh, keep our eyes and ears and other bits away from the blast.”
“It should work,” Ralley said, nodding. “I can put the controls on a slight delay, which would give me time to get into cover.”
They busied themselves with “dressing” the cylinder. Ralley offered his shirt and Jack used his bright yellow vest. It was only when Ralley suggested using his Dragoon’s hat to cap it off that Jack hesitated.
“Is it truly necessary?” he asked, stroking the plume with nervous fingers.
“No,” Ralley said. “We’ll just use the blanket from the flyer to suggest a head.”
Jack felt childish—and yet he was undeniably relieved to hear this.
Ralley retrieved the blanket from the flyer, as well as the bronze knife and the crystal-silver tool, tucking the latter two items into his belt.
They placed the clothes-wrapped cylinder on the disk, and Ralley went to the panel on the wall, his hands stroking the rows of crystals like the fingers of a musician on a harp.
The disk rose slowly towards the ceiling, taking its deadly “passenger” with it …
#
At an intersection of red-rock corridors, Commander Mekron stood behind the huddled soldiers guarding the lift-door in the floor, his own gun readied. He could smell the sweat in the air, the essence of their fear and eagerness.
“Sacrifice,” he told them again. “This day we have no more concerns. Only to fight for her. Pai Lanaya!”
He himself was afraid. But at least he would have one more battle before the end, one more chance to slay her enemies.
“Sir!” the technician at a nearby console shouted, “the lifting platform is in operation.”
Mekron smiled. “Finally! They’re coming up. Get ready!”
They aimed their rifles and the room went silent, as they waited for the hiss that would signal the opening of the shielded hatch in the floor.
A few seconds later, they heard it. The hatch slid aside, they saw the bright yellow garment of an attacker and—
No, wait. There was a glint of silver, the shape wasn’t—
“NO!!” Mekron shouted.
It was too late. His men fired, the bolts of ambia from their guns reaching the target in an instant.
White light filled Mekron’s vision, and then everything was gone, forever.
#
The lifting-disk rose into place, and Ralley and Jack stepped off onto the next level of the fortress.
There were no guards left to meet them. Only a few scattered pieces of bodies remained, and the rough-hewn red rock walls and floor were scarred with wide, smooth gouges, as if volumes of stone had been melted to nothingness. Was this the result of the ambia explosion?
The lifting-disk itself, crafted from blue-black crystal, had been left unscathed. The crystal material was familiar. Jack recalled the faerie mound obelisks, the enemy “claw” flyers, and the shiny armor worn by a few of the enemy officers they’d seen in the valley where they’d arrived in this world.
Perhaps the crystal was some kind of armor, crafted to resist the white fire? No armor was truly impenetrable, of course. Jack thought this kind might be pierced if enough ambia was applied in a sustained beam, as he’d seen when he’d destroyed the claw fighter earlier.
Looking up, Jack saw shadowed corridors leading off in four directions; they had emerged at an intersection.
“Which way?” he asked Ralley.
But his friend was already running off to their left, streaking down a narrow tube-like corridor. Jack jumped over a furrow in the wounded floor and sprinted after him, worried that his friend might lose him if he didn’t work hard to keep up.
A drumming sound grew louder in the air, a sort of throbbing. Jack could feel it under his feet as he ran, shaking the rock of the floor and echoing through the tunnels of the fortress. Whatever it was, it set his nerves on end.
Ahead, the tunnel ended in a small chamber. As Ralley rushed forward, a kneeling, gun-wielding guard let loose with a blast of ambia energy.
Before Jack could even shout out, Ralley was springing into the air. He launched his body over the bolt of white energy, flying down to tackle the lone guard.
The guard’s gun went flying, and, before the man could react, Ralley yanked the bronze knife from his belt and slit his throat open. The guard’s body slid to the floor with a soft thump.
Jack caught up with his friend, panting, bending over quickly to grab the fallen guard’s gun. “Ralley, be careful. You don’t know what you’re running into. Around any corner there could be—“
Ralley looked up, that unyielding fire still ablaze in his emerald eyes. When Jack saw it, he knew any such warning was useless. When thus inflamed, Ralley would not listen.
“She’s close, Jack,” Ralley said. “Very close now.”
Without another word he stood, tucked his blade into his belt, and ran off down the corridor on the far side of the room.
After taking a quick gulp of air, Jack plunged into the shadows behind him.
#
General Lanaya Culcras had one regret about her hasty departure from the red stone fortress. Now that this attack from the royal forces had forced her hand, time was short, and she would not be able to personally grant her sister the long and painful death she had planned out for her.
As she stepped into the aon lab, the cushioned wooden box holding the precious green crystal needle tucked under her arm, Lanaya saw the wizened old technician, Sai Benion, toying with his instruments.
Lanaya’s sister, Princess Taxamia Culcras, was still restrained in the ring of the aon amplifier, speaking in low tones with the fair-skinned foreigner whose body Lanaya had enjoyed earlier in her bedchamber.
The sight of her esteemed royal sister filled Lanaya with churning hatred that rose like acid bile from deep within her gut.
So soft. So proper and dignified. You play at strength, but you are weak at your core.
Princess Taxamia’s delicate lips were pursed now, as she tried to bear her torment with honor. Her eyes flashed up to meet Lanaya’s for an instant, but she did not acknowledge her presence.
So, to you I am still “she-who-is-not-to-be-named.”
Coward!
You would deny me just as my whore of a mother did.
Just like father now—
NO. She couldn’t dwell on that, especially now.
She would ask Benion to kill the bitch once she was gone. The aon amplifier, on the right settings, could instantly melt flesh, twist bones, and crystallize the brain.
If Lanaya stayed for the execution, she knew she would linger far too long in an effort to make the agony exquisite.
“Benion,” she told him. “I am leaving. It is time.”
He nodded. “What about the Princess?”’
“Kill her as soon as I am gone. Tune the amplifier to disrupt her flesh. There must be no chance that anyone might find her alive.”
He simply nodded again. Unlike Mekron, the old man was not trembling, and seemed unafraid of his own coming end.
“Serve me this way,” she said. “And your honor shall live on always.”
She turned to leave—but the fair-skinned foreign prisoner was suddenly in her way. What?
He held up his bound hands to her. Was he asking to be freed? He looked straight at her, met her gaze, his steely grey eyes cold and proud.
None of her own men would have met her crimson gaze like that. This one was very strong for a mere human.
He bowed then, but his voice was clear: “Pai Lanaya, I wish to serve you. My life is yours, but please do not squander it. If I die, let it be a soldier’s death fighting for your cause.”
He’s used the honorific—Pai Lanaya. She didn’t understand his words, but the meaning was clear from his tone.
He wanted to serve her.
Many men had
felt that way, of course, and yet …
She could not help but feel impressed by his gall. It was refreshing to have someone who could look her in the eyes without flinching.
And she had truly enjoyed his passion earlier. Intrigued by his pale, rugged handsomeness, she had only meant to use him for a quick release. But she had been impressed by his stamina, his utter fierceness … He had surrendered to her, but had not lost his own spirit in the process.
There was room in her personal Axehead flyer for one passenger.
Yes, she would follow her desire and take this one south with her.
With her free arm, she drew her belt-knife and sliced through his bonds. She nodded towards the exit, then ran off towards it, hearing his footfalls as he followed close behind her.
-16-
“I am sorry, dear Princess. It is time.”
Princess Taxamia Culcras watched as Master Technician Sai Benion removed a small, silver tool from his belt. He turned, contemplating her for a moment, then stepped forward towards the ring-like assembly which held her, pointing the tool towards the spiky needle-like projections which surrounded her head.
She knew that Benion meant to kill her with the aon amplifier. There was no point in struggling in her bonds; the tight, silver-plated manacles locked on her wrists and ankles were held together by linked aona, and only a technician with the proper tools could loosen them.
Perhaps she could convince Benion to aid her? She had to delay him, at least! She could feel her love’s presence. Ralley was here, painfully close now.
He was in the tower now, coming for her. If she could just stall Benion for a few minutes …
She drew in a deep breath and felt the power of the link flowing through her. Was she not more than just one woman? Her connection to her love made her so. They were two-as-one—da’ta se—and there was power in that. She felt that burning strength rise up in her, and she locked her gaze on Benion.
Could she persuade this man to spare her?
“Master Benion—you were once respected in the Order of Kion!” she shouted. “You cannot kill your Princess. I see your hesitation. It is not the desire of your heart.”
Battle Across Worlds Page 11