“Father,” Julea said, kneeling beside him, “we can still have time together.”
“No,” he sobbed, shaking his head. “This unholy fire still burns within me, leading me to violence. That’s what they want—the Krael, the Master’s people. And what shall I do now that—“
WHEEEE-OOOO-OOOOO-SHHHHHH-SHHHHHHH …
The sudden whistling shuffling noise filled the room, emanating from the Key. Ed looked that way and saw the little black pyramid glowing with a white light, a pale flame dancing from the base to the tip, spreading up in a shaft of brilliance over the pedestal as he watched.
The Guardian rose and stepped forward, staring at the glowing Key.
“They’re trying to come through,” he said.
“Who?” Ed asked.
“The Krael! They must know he’s dead. They want to destroy me for aiding him … Yes!” he let out a choked little laugh. “They’ll destroy me and end it all.”
He reached out and began pulling at the wooden contraption above the Key, from which the silver claw hung—the claw that blocked the way to the other world, or so he had claimed.
With a howl of gleeful fury, the Guardian pulled the framework over, claw and silver bits and wooden supports all crashing to the floor.
Freed from this impediment, the Key glowed brighter still, the whistling-shuffling noise growing louder and louder.
The Guardian turned to them, his red eyes brimming with tears. “GO!” he shouted.
He reached out one hand towards the stone door at the far end of the chamber, clawing with his fingers at the air. As if yielding to his will, it slid open, revealing sunlight outside.
Julea was still staring at her father, frozen in place.
Ed grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the door. “Come on!”
He didn’t like being rough with her, but the Key’s fit of sound and light was scaring him and he knew they needed to get out. “I’m your husband now so listen to me, right? We have to go, he made his choice!”
They headed for the exit as fast as they could, Ed favoring his good leg and tugging Julea behind him.
By the time they reached the door, the whistling-shuffling was loud enough to drown out all other sound. The whistling part made Ed feel dizzy, and the shuffling had become a roar: like fierce ocean waves, but many times as loud.
He pushed Julea outside, then looked back into the doorway. There was a brilliant halo of white light surrounding the Key and its pedestal, and against it he could see the silhouette of the Guardian, his arms spread as if in welcome.
Ed pulled Julea further away, out into the open. They were about thirty paces away and when he looked back again. Now, the glow was so bright that it was as if the entire inside of the faerie mound was filled with white fire, and he could no longer see anything of the interior.
Ed led Julea around the mound and downhill, towards the gorge and little stream that ran there.
“We should get away from that mound,” Ed said. “Away from the house. We have to—“
The air around him was suddenly distorted, everything swimming and shimmering like a patch of oil on a pond.
“Rutting hell!” he yelled. “It’s coming now!” he pulled her ten paces to the left, then grabbed the music box from her hands and pushed her down into a little depression behind a stand of trees. He dropped the box there, then threw himself down beside her.
The noise was now so shrill and overpowering that Ed’s ears throbbed, and his teeth chattered from the vibrations. His moved so that his arm was over Julea’s back and looked up.
The obelisks over the mound were flaring with white energy. The simmering fire shot up to form a pillar of white, brighter than the sun, piercing the clouds.
Then, a similar beam shot forth horizontally from the mound, blasting away the earth in its path in the same way that a torch might melt butter. There was a deep rumbling in the ground, and then a wall of white brilliance exploded, running from the mound to the house, stretching up to the sky as it shot out.
Towards the house, Ed thought dimly. The white fire must be following the tunnel to the basement, flowing along that channel. And then …
He looked up at the Guardian’s mansion. The barred windows of the place glowed from inside with the brilliance of that unearthly fire and then—
With a shrill shriek of whistling energy, the house exploded! Ed moved to cover Julea as best he could as he felt his back pummeled with tiny bits of wood and glass from the blasted structure.
The noise and light were so bright that he couldn’t focus on anything else. Under him he felt Julea’s back shake as she sobbed in fear, her cries lost in the unholy din.
What is this?, he thought. Did I kill the rutting demon only to bring on Armageddon itself?
-41-
It was a peaceful afternoon in the town of Bryttington, on the Isle of Briars, when the sky in the south suddenly erupted with a violent storm of white light.
Jinny was outside of Mother Henne’s tavern, emptying a basin of dishwater, when she heard an odd whistling noise in the air.
At first, she thought it was one of the patrons trying to get her attention. But it continued and got louder and louder, soon joined by a shuffling noise that sounded like a great broom sweeping the sky.
Then, the sky caught fire. It was a white fire that began with a pillar of light, soon exploding into a sheet of brilliance that made the entire southern part of the sky shine brighter than the sun.
Jinny dropped her basin to the grass and screamed. The water flowed over her feet and soaked her shoes, but she barely noticed. She covered her eyes, thinking she might go blind …
“What is it, ma’am?” She looked out between her fingers to see the Dragoon, Leftenant Sarde. He was squinting as he looked at the sky. “Dear God,” he said, and his face went slack.
Others came out of the tavern now, a whole crowd of them, Grenadiers and aristocrats and townsmen—all paralyzed in awe and fear as soon as they saw that blazing sky.
And then, the light and noise were gone, vanished.
There was a blast of cool air, and she saw that there was something hovering in the southern sky now.
Long and black, like a legless lizard or a mastless ship. Something that big ought not have been able to fly! Was it an animal, a great devouring beast or … something else? Other tiny shapes flitted around it, flashing bolts of white fire, swimming in the air like lesser fish around a whale.
Someone tapped her shoulder. It was Mother Henne, leaning on her cane and gnawing on a hunk of jerky which she held in her other hand.
“Mother?” Jinny asked.
The old woman dropped her jerky to the grass, her gap-toothed mouth falling open. “Dear God, I finally seen it,” she rasped. “All these years of sinning, I should have expected it before.”
“What is it?” Jinny asked.
Mother Henne cackled and pointed towards the thing.
“It’s the devil’s willy,” she said.
“What?”
The old woman shook her head. “Don’t argue, girl! I’m getting out of here, and you will, too, if you know what’s good.”
Leftenant Sarde came forward, stepping in between them. “There was a bright light in the sky the night Cap’n Chestire disappeared,” he said. “Maybe he’s up there?”
Mother Henne shook her head. “If he is, he’s damned—damned to hell!”
#
When the white light and the noise swallowed his craft, Jack had been sure that the next sight he’d see would be the golden fields of heaven.
Instead, when the brightness faded and his eyesight cleared, he saw that his flyer was hovering over a sunlit green landscape. There were meadows and woods, a stream winding its way to the ocean …
And, directly below him, a curious mound topped by three obelisks.
It’s my imagination, he thought. It can’t be …
But then he looked and saw the landscape stretching out in the distance. There was a clust
er of little red brick buildings at the other end of the island, the walls of the local garrison, the docks …
It is! It’s the Isle of Briars! Bryttington, Garatayne … I’m … home?
But he wasn’t the only one who’d made the journey.
Glancing behind him, he saw the massive dark shape of the great Baek Tayon ship glittering in the sunlight. Scores of smaller vessels of both Dameryan and enemy designs swarmed around it. Many were still just floating in the air, their pilots undoubtedly startled as he had been. But some were beginning to move, and firing …
Dear God, he thought. The battle has come home.
#
When the ambia light finally faded, Orcus Gaelti peered out of one of the slit-like windows in the armored hull of his transport—only to see an unfamiliar green landscape below. There was a rocky shore, an ocean beyond …
“Sir!” the pilot called back to him. “We appear to have been blown off course. Somehow …”
Bitter laughter forced its way up Gaelti’s throat. The pilot, craning his head around from where he sat in his chair, stared at him, uncomprehending …
His young aide, Horion, tapped his arm. “Master Gaelti … it was a transference, wasn’t it?”
Gaelti nodded, still chuckling. “Correct, Horion. And I never would have predicted it! Neither did she. She aimed to prevent communication with the other world by destroying the Key … Instead, she has sent us to that world.”
“Was it the beam, Sir?” Horion asked. His aide was growing excited, nodding eagerly, his eyes wide.
Gaelti nodded. “Yes. The beam from their cannon broke through the wall of the Tomb of Oberkion. She thought that it would obliterate the Key. But instead, it found … another outlet.”
Horion nodded, bouncing in his seat with his excitement. “Yes! And so it forced a convergence. The sympathetic aona aligned, and the excess ambia was vented in this other world.”
“Exactly,” Gaelti said. “Of course, there was also a transference effect—this one on a massive scale as a result of the intense ambia pressure of the beam. Everything in the vicinity above the Key was carried across … including us. But the Key is intact. And that means that we still have a chance for a positive outcome.”
“What can we do, Sir?” Horion asked.
Gaelti shook his head. “Nothing.” He looked out to where a multitude of fighters from both sides swarmed around the monstrous bulk of the flying fortress. “It’s in the hands of our flyers now. Let’s just hope that they’re up to the challenge.”
#
“WHAT????!!!!!!!!” Lanaya shouted, scanning the unfamiliar terrain below the flying fortress.
The technicians on the bridge around her cringed as her bellowing shout rent the air of the room.
“What happened? Telnon!” she turned to the Technician.
“I’m … not sure,” he replied, looking away.
How sick she was of this sweating stammering weakling!
She backhanded him, sending him sailing across the transparent floor of the deck until he collided with a console. Then, he curled up at the foot of it, cowering.
She walked over to him, and placed her boot on his throat.
“Be sure!” she told him. “Be sure now … or die!”
“It’s a … trans … ference,” he choked. “Somehow the beam … must have … caused convergence. Activated the Key of … Oberkion. Brought us … through to the … other world.”
“The other world?” she said. Removing her boot from his neck, she told him: “Get up.”
As he pulled himself up using the console for support, she asked: “Could we do this again? Launch the beam at the Key, and get back that way?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding pathetically. “If you align the ship, we could try again.”
“But not yet,” she hissed. “Perhaps we should take advantage of the … opportunities … that this accident has created.”
She walked to the left side of the bridge, peering out at the green landscape. In the distance there was some sort of town or settlement. She saw neat streets lined with rows of red buildings, beckoning to her in the sunlight …
She pointed to the town. “Steer us that way,” she said. “I want to destroy that place first. We’ll show the people of the world the price of aiding Oberkion’s plan!”
#
Now that the enemy was in Garatayne, the situation seemed far more grim. The sight of the dark crystalline craft hovering over the familiar fields and woods below filled Jack with a stomach-sinking feeling of dread.
Flicking on his Hummingbird’s rear jets, he shot forward towards a cluster of enemy flyers. One claw was just floating there, the pilot apparently still stunned by the trip between worlds.
Jack flew towards it, his course straight and even, then depressed the button of his ambia gun. The beam flashed out, catching the claw in its midsection.
He kept up the fire as he approached. After a second, the ship exploded, the two halves of the claw whirling down towards the trees below.
Jack climbed swiftly and headed for another claw.
This one was waking from his daze, the enemy craft turning to face Jack’s flyer as he approached.
Not quickly enough, though … Jack dropped slightly, tilted his nose up, and strafed the craft with ambia as he flew underneath. The claw dropped down sideways, white energy flickering over its hull. It fell for a moment before suddenly exploding into a shower of tiny bits.
Too easy, Jack thought. But these little ones weren’t the main threat. What about the great ship, that damned flying fortress with its hellish cannon?
He looked to see that it was rapidly turning now, as if prepared to head north, up island towards the town.
The town! Bryttington was a place of exile, ruled by the Guardian and the Lord Protector’s bureaucrats—but it was still a Garataynian town, and a great number of people whom Jack cared for dwelt there.
He didn’t want to think about what Lanaya’s great cannon might do to the tidy red brick buildings and those within them …
Climbing, he sped towards the great ship. There were other Dameryan flyers engaging it, pummeling its hull with ambia, but to little effect.
But Jack had seen that long open door above …
He swooped down over the hull, running along the length of it. There it was, a long slit in the armored skin—a chink in the great beast’s armor. It looked as if there was a wedge-shaped crystal flyer sitting down there inside the opening. Perhaps this was a berth for such vessels?
He braked, hovering, then angled his nose down and eased himself over it, activating his gun.
The ambia burst out from the nose of his craft to hit the floor of the chamber below. For a split second, he thought he saw the body of a man there before the white energy obscured him. Had he killed him with his initial blast?
Jack eased his flyer over slightly so that the beam impacted the wedge-shaped flyer. It exploded, creating a fissure through the wall, out of which a veiny mesh of fine silvery cords exploded, sparking with ambia.
Good, he thought. Every second he did more damage, it was worth the risk of hovering here and …
WHHHHEEEEEE-BOOM!
His craft was hit hard, sending him spinning out over the hull of the great ship and into the open air, where he began to drop like a stone, the whole of his ship shuddering violently.
He struggled with the control harness, shoving all the rods down deep, trying to get some lift …
This slowed his descent but didn’t stop it. The ground was rushing up, two hundred feet, one-fifty, and one hundred …
And there was an axe-head shaped craft whirling around him as he fell, as if eager to watch him plunge to his death.
Aubren!
Damn it all.
Jack cursed himself. He’d been so stupid, left himself open again … and his old foe had wounded him, perhaps grievously this time.
He applied maximum thrust, hoping to gain some distance on his enemy even as hi
s craft continued to drop.
Finally, his flyer evened out only twenty feet from the ground, the craft literally brushing the topmost leaves of the oaks in the south island wood as it jetted over them.
It shuddered as it went, protesting every inch of travel. Jack looked out to both sides, and on his left saw that now that wing was now gone as well, just a stub of wood remaining.
It was a wonder that the craft was still flying at all …
Another whistling beam shot past the canopy. He looked back to see Aubren close on his tail.
Toying with me now, he thought. Plucking the wings off a fly. If he was serious about ending this quickly, I’d already be dead. And as my flyer can barely get above the trees, I might as well be riding a…
Of course! That was it. Aubren had never been much of a horseman, but Jack knew every path on the island so well that he could ride them with his eyes shut. Even without his faithful Ermaline to carry him, those paths might be of use. He just had to hope that the flyer’s steering held up …
Smiling a grin of desperate hope, he shot over the trees, then dropped down a mere few feet from the ground, following the path that led towards the Guardian’s estate.
#
From his gold-winged command flyer, Flying Squad Captain Neron watched as a lone Hummingbird flyer launched a continuous beam of ambia down into the open bay of the monster ship.
After a moment, he saw a flash on the side of the ship’s hull, and there were several tiny explosions down the length of it—suggesting that a conduit had been hit.
Neron was distracted by the urgent need to turn his own craft and blast and enemy claw that flew in on his left. Once this foe was dispatched into a neat cloud of energy, he looked back to the great ship.
The Hummingbird which had been blasting the bay was gone; hopefully not destroyed, but there was no way to know.
Still, that daring pilot had shown them the way … The great beast did have a vulnerability, after all.
Battle Across Worlds Page 30