Battle Across Worlds

by Dean Chalmers

  Still, it would be deep enough for his purposes …

  WHEEEE-BOOOOOOM!

  A bolt of ambia slammed into his flyer. It shuddered violently and Jack lost control as the craft shot sideways, plowing up water as it bounced wildly across the waves. There was a terrible whistling screech from behind him, and it sounded almost as if his flyer were screaming in agony.

  The rear of the ship had been hit.

  Not a direct hit—that would have taken him out of the running then and there—but bad enough. When he looked back, he saw that the top of the rear seat and part of the canopy there were gone. There was a brilliant sputtering to the very rear and left-rear of the craft.

  The ambia jets had been hit! He tried to switch them off, but it was no use. Struggling with the controls, he fought against the violent thrust, trying to compensate for the force it exerted.

  He was still struggling as the flyer went into a wild spin, flipping onto its side, turning end over end before smashing down into the water.

  The sunlight was lost to him, and the ocean rushed in …

  #

  Brace Aubren smiled as he watched Chestire’s uncontrolled flyer surge onward. The hapless craft plowed sideways through the water before hurling itself a few yards into the air, then plunged down to disappear beneath the waves.

  Still, it was a bit disappointing. He’d hoped for an explosion in the end, something more dramatic and final.

  Was there a chance that the coward Dragoon had survived? He doubted it, but he had to make sure.

  He guided his own Axehead craft in low and slow over the water, looking for signs of the wreck.

  Now that the chase was over, Aubren felt a surge of guilt rising in his chest. An emotion that was new to him, but powerful.

  This whole pursuit had been self-indulgent, he knew. He’d spent too much time playing with Chestire, and needed to get back to his mistress’s assault.

  I shall deliver death unto your enemies, my goddess, he had promised.

  He needed to show her his devotion, his ability as a warrior and killer. He’d let an old grudge distract him, just like a foolish child.

  Bringing his craft to a halt, Aubren looked back towards the battle, and he saw that the flying fortress was still surrounded by smaller ships like gnats.

  But now, as he watched, small explosions flickered white across its hull. The great ship was still moving—but the Dameryan bastards were were hurting it.

  She’s up there, and I’m not there to fight for her. I have to kill for her, prove to her that I am worthy of her respect and—

  He had to get back! She needed him and—

  Suddenly, Aubren caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye.

  He turned forward, and saw what he at first thought to be a great fish rising from the water just in front of him, with a long white body and a pointed silver snout—

  NO! It was CHESTIRE!

  As his enemy’s craft burst from the water, Aubren’s hands went to his controls.

  But he was too late. Before his fingers touched the crystals, a stream of ambia flashed forth from Chestire’s nose-mounted gun to smash into the front of the Axehead flyer.

  There was a crunching, shattering noise like the rending of a thousand panes of glass. Aubren jerked forward as the force of the energy pushed his craft back.

  No! Have to get control, have to move …

  The flaring energy blinded him, and he squinted as his hands flew over the controls, commanding the craft to rise away from the onslaught of ambia.

  But something was wrong.

  Pain surged up his arms and burned, piercing like a thousand spikes over his body, but he couldn’t get the craft to respond.

  He ran his hands over the array, concentrating, trying to become one with the machine, willing it to move …

  The crystals pulsed brightly once, twice—and then several of them cracked like crushed icicles. The entire array throbbed white with a whistling, rising whine—

  —and then exploded in a shrieking gout of ambia, throwing Aubren back in his seat.

  The flyer was lost. It was no use! He had to get out, had to …

  But there was something wrong with his hands. They burned, and yet he couldn’t feel his fingers.

  He raised his arm to touch the auxiliary controls for the exit door, and then gasped in horror.

  My hands!

  When he held both his arms up, he saw that his hands were gone, disintegrated by the console’s blast, leaving smooth, bloody stumps where his wrists had been.

  “Is this judgment?!!” he screamed.

  Had he betrayed his mistress by pursuing his personal vendetta—and this was his punishment?

  “Please, PLEASE!” he shrieked. “I’ll die for you! I want to be with you, be a part of you! Pai Lanaya I LOVE you, please, I want to be—”

  The craft shuddered and there was an ominous crunching, cracking noise.

  Then, in a final whistling howl of ambia, Aubren’s world ended, and all his pain was burned away forever.

  #

  Jack coughed, spitting out seawater and gasping for air. He turned his rushing craft aside just as Aubren’s flyer exploded into a cloud of glassy shards.

  He reached down and hit the levers for the right-side jets, thrusting them a few times to keep the flyer running straight.

  The controls were still underwater, as the craft had taken on quite a bit while submerged; but it was draining out fast, thanks to the holes that Aubren had previously blasted in the rear of the ship.

  Once he stabilized the flyer, he reached back and snatched up his Dragoon’s hat from where it was floating in the water over the rear seat. He wrung it out and placed it on his head before plunging his hands back down to work the controls again.

  He’d done it. Aubren was gone.

  But steering the badly injured craft underwater had been the greatest challenge of his life.

  When the flyer had stopped flipping, he’d found himself right-side up, albeit underwater, on the reef-bed.

  While his lungs screamed for air, he’d worked his way back along the surface of the reef. He’d had to constantly adjust the right and front ambia jets just to keep moving forward.

  He’d only hoped that Aubren would come back to gloat—and that he’d be able to see him when he did.

  Sure enough, the shadow of the axe-head craft had soon appeared above the water, and he’d leapt up for his prey …

  Now, their long-awaited duel was over. The cold-eyed Grenadier was dead, and Jack had survived.

  All right, God, Jack prayed. I guess I have to keep up my end of the bargain …

  He pointed the flyer towards shore, but he didn’t know if it would make it that far. The craft was slowing now as the ambia jets sputtered. The damaged jets had leaked a great deal of the white energy, and his final blast at Aubren had used most of the rest.

  The jets died … though the flyer glided on a bit further, propelled by its momentum. It finally stopped five hundred feet from the rocky shore, hovering just a foot over the gentle waves.

  Jack looked up and saw that the aerial combat was still raging above, the swarm of ships following the monstrous flying fortress as it glided north, growing smaller in his view.

  How he wanted to be up there, helping them to bring down the beast!

  But he knew that this fight was over for him. He could only watch—and hope and pray—that one of the other pilots took advantage of the weakness he’d uncovered, and that the Dameryans would be able to destroy the unholy flying behemoth.

  -44-

  Jarlus chased after the da’ta se as they rushed recklessly forward. He was sure that they were getting closer to the front of the great ship …

  Just ahead, a door slid open to reveal a small room containing another group of three guards, who stood close together, their weapons aimed at the doorway.

  Jarlus watched, helpless, as Ralley charged in.

  As the guards fired their weapons, the yo
uth launched into the air, turning himself as he pushed off from the floor.

  By doing so, Ralley avoided their ambia blasts—then came down and smashed into them with the sidelong length of his body.

  The guards were knocked off their feet, and then Ralley was springing up again.

  He pierced the first guard’s throat with his rapier while the man was still sprawled on his back, then dispatched the next man in a similar fashion—

  —but the third was sitting up, aiming his gun at Ralley’s head.

  Cursing silently, Jarlus raised his own gun and took aim.

  But Taxamia was already there.

  Running forward, she kicked the guard full in the face. His head snapped back with a crack and his eyes rolled up.

  Ralley was already reaching out to touch the door on the far side of the room.

  “Just wait!” Jarlus called.

  But the far door was already sliding open, revealing a room behind it that was long and deep.

  A narrow metal walkway stretched fifty feet across the room to another, wider door on the far side, which was guarded by three armored men. Below the walkway was a sunken area where technicians worked at consoles near squat crystal machines that surged and sparked with ambia energy.

  The machines, which lined the room on either side of the sunken area, reminded Jarlus of the beehives in Phaedon’s honey farm. Instead of buzzing insects, though, these blue-black cones hummed with white ambia which swirled in traceries around them.

  Ralley rushed into the room and across the walkway. The guards on the far end opened fire, and the youth slid down to his knees to avoid a flurry of ambia bolts, then rolled forward and rose again to continue his charge.

  Taxamia leapt onto the walkway and raised her gun, firing at the guard’s heads in an attempt to distract them from her lover’s approach. She shot one man in the center of the chest. The energy flashed on his crystal armor, there was a popping noise, and he jerked back, stunned.

  Then, Ralley had closed the distance to the guards. He slit the stunned man’s throat with the tip of his blade, then kicked the guard beside him as the man turned to fire, hitting him hard in the stomach and knocking him down.

  Ralley thrust down with his rapier, running the man through the eye.

  As he applied this killing stroke, the third guard grabbed his arm and tried to pull him down.

  Ralley thrashed and easily threw the man off.

  The guard went sailing through the air and over the edge of the walkway, falling down into the sunken area below and knocking several technicians to the floor under him.

  Taxamia was rushing forward along the walkway, and now Jarlus was close behind. Suddenly, the far door hissed open—

  And there she was, glaring at them, framed in the doorway.

  Lanaya.

  Dressed in black leather armor like the warrior Queen Omeria from ancient days … But her eyes were crimson and her teeth were bared like a beast’s.

  A diseased animal, raised in my Master’s house. How could I not have seen the truth back then?

  This creature’s violent nature had fooled Jarlus once, when he’d mistaken it for the noble fighting spirit of a warrior. But now he knew the truth …

  “Watch out!” the Xai Ashaon called to Ralley, who was dangerously close to the red-eyed fiend.

  But Lanaya was already reaching down to her belt to grab an iron dagger. Her arm snapped up and the blade shot through the air, hitting Ralley high in the chest.

  The red-haired youth turned to look at her, and his legs crumpled from under him. He fell backward onto the surface of the walkway, still clutching his sword.

  “NO!” Taxamia shouted, running to his aid.

  But now, Lanaya was drawing her own sword: a hooked bronze blade inlaid with bloody jewels.

  Laughing, she raised it high and stepped towards her sister.

  “NO!” Jarlus shouted. “Look at me! YOU—TRAITOR!”

  She turned her gaze to him, her red eyes slitted with hatred.

  “You are my greatest mistake!” he sneered. “Nothing but an animal after all. Can you still fight like a warrior?”

  She shook her head and laughed. “You’re still very small,” she said. “And foolish.”

  He drew his own hook-sword and raised it to show her. “It’s been too long,” he said. “Let’s end this.”

  She licked her lips and nodded, saying simply: “Yes.”

  Raising her blade, she stood there smiling while Jarlus rushed forward, sprinting across the walkway.

  As he approached the wide doorway at the end of the walkway, he got a glimpse of several startled technicians inside who appeared to be standing on air. Then he realized that the floor itself was transparent …

  Jarlus looked back up to see Lanaya lifting her sword. He darted in low and slashed at her legs, spinning aside as he delivered the blow.

  But she deftly blocked him.

  He leapt aside just as she slashed down again, cleaving the air where his head had been an instant earlier.

  He sliced up towards her chest, but she blocked the attack and answered with a blow of her own. He blocked that strike, but the force of the impact nearly jarred his own weapon from his hand, and he knew that he was lucky she hadn’t broken his wrist.

  This wasn’t like fighting Ralley, who had incredible strength, but was clumsy and uncertain when it came to his technique.

  No, he’d taught this monster everything she knew … And now, she was putting inhuman power behind every precise stroke.

  He needed to gain an advantage, and quickly.

  He decided on a feint. He slashed upwards towards her throat, but pulled his blow at the last instant. When Lanaya raised her own blade to guard her throat, he cut down to slice at her hand on the hilt of her sword.

  His blade cut deep. Inhumanly strong or no, she was not immune to the fine cutting edge of a Xa Ashaon sword.

  With a howl of pain, she dropped her sword and jerked her hand up. He saw that he’d nearly severed the topmost finger.

  From behind him there came a crashing, whistling din, and there were flashes of ambia in the corner of his eye, followed by screams.

  He turned his head ever so slightly for an instant, distracted, and Lanaya charged forward.

  He heard her cry of “HAH!” and turned his gaze to her just as her foot hit him squarely in the chest.

  Jarlus found himself flying backwards through the air. He flew across the walkway, and then was falling over the edge of it.

  Grabbing desperately, he caught the edge and hung there.

  His chest burned and breathing was an effort. It felt as if half of his ribs had been broken.

  There was another shrill whine below him, and he looked down to see that ambia was crackling between the beehive-shaped things while the technicians cowered behind their consoles, or shoved each other in their haste to climb the ramps that lead up to the walkway.

  Suddenly, one of the squat machines exploded.

  White energy flared out brilliantly from the shattered hive, shooting through the air.

  Jarlus heard the screams of several technicians just as a tongue of white fire touched his right leg, coursing up to above his thigh. There was a sudden sharp pain. The energy flickered, and was gone …

  And so was his leg. Only a bloody stump remained, the rest vaporized.

  Now I’m truly useless!, he thought. Gods be damned!

  The shrill howling of the dying hive-machines continued, and there were more flashes. Perhaps the attackers outside were killing the great vessel?

  But there was still the da’ta se to think about. And she was still alive …

  Cool blackness washed over him, and his vision began to fade—but he fought it.

  He couldn’t succumb, couldn’t give up, couldn’t let go … Even with his leg lost, he had to try. He held on to the walkway and sucked in a painful breath. There was a ramp close by, if he could just …

  #

  As soon as Ralley
fell, Taxamia rushed forward.

  She could feel his pain as sharply as if the knife had struck her own chest. Now, she heard Jarlus calling out to Lanaya, challenging her … she had to use the distraction that he provided.

  With the strength of the fiery state pulsing through her, she charged down the walkway to aid her beloved.

  She reached Ralley and knelt down, touching his face. For the first time she noticed that his eyes were the wrong color—gold, like her own.

  But wait … Was that due to the strength of their link, and how the reaction chamber had re-forged it?

  Ralley’s lips trembled and his breathing was labored. She didn’t need to ask how he felt; she could feel the sharpness of the blade in her mind, and there was something else.

  A cold feeling running through his body, locking up his muscles …

  “Poison,” she said. “I think the blade was coated with it.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

  Down below them, in the sunken technician’s area, the hive-shaped ambia capacitors were flaring with energy. She wasn’t very familiar with this ancient technology, but something about the shrill sound the screaming machines were making was just … wrong.

  Suddenly, a bright flare of ambia arced from one capacitor to another.

  The arc continued and then exploded outward, and two technicians screamed and went silent as the cogent energy ripped their bodies apart.

  Taxmaia knew that she had to get Ralley out, get him back to some kind of safety—if there was any to be found.

  Grabbing his legs, she dragged him backward across the walkway. Several of the surviving technicians had climbed a ramp from below and shoved past them seeking their own escape, but she paid them no mind.

  When they were at the other end of the bridge, she eased him down and knelt by him again. He looked up at her, smiled—and then started humming loudly. The tune echoed in her own mind as well …

  “It’s from ‘The Duke of Arrebasque,’ he said. “The soprano’s big song … the Duchess’s aria.