“River!” Socrates shouted over his shoulder. He still had his gaze fixed on the giant black dragon plummeting down the mountainside.
“Already on it,” she said. She clambered up onto the tank and threw the door open. “Micah! Get inside.”
“The halfling forced his stare away from the dragon. “But I don’t… I wouldn’t-”
“Get in!” she ordered. Micah closed his eyes. He nodded half-heartedly, and then climbed obediently up onto the tank. They vanished inside just as the dragon reached the terrace.
The black dragon turned in midflight, adjusting his course to glide over their heads. Dane grabbed a spear out of the hands of one of his men. As the dragon swooped over, he hauled back and threw it with all his might. The weapon flew true. It punctured the thin leathery membrane of the dragon’s right wing and hung there, swinging awkwardly as the dragon flapped his wing. A moment later, it broke loose and fell into the crowd.
“Devils!” Dane cursed. “The beast hardly noticed.”
“He has no nerves in his wing membrane,” Socrates said.
The dragon let out a fiery blast aimed for the center of the crowd. Screams filled the air and bodies scattered. A dozen or so died instantly, engulfed in the dragon’s breath. In their panic, the others trampled one another trying to escape. Some leapt off the road, plummeting over the precipice to their deaths, or if they were lucky, reaching the steep incline where they tumbled all the way down the mountain to land at the bottom with broken arms and legs, but at least still alive.
A thundering kaboom shook the mountain as the tank fired off its first round. Dane’s men swung around in a panic as the noise caught them off guard. The Bonecrusher bounced back a few inches, recoiling from the explosion. The aim was slightly high, and it missed the big dragon by inches. The shell whistled through the air and exploded on the ground a quarter of a mile to the west.
Sensing danger, the dragon adjusted his course and flew straight for Stormwatch. Behind, dozens of smaller female dragons crowded the sky. They dove into the crowd, snapping at the fleeing peasants, snatching them up in their jaws and talon-like claws. Here and there, pillars of fire descended from the sky. The scent of burning sage and human flesh mingled in the air, and columns of black smoke churned up to form thick clouds overhead.
In the distance, the great black dragon perched himself on the roof of the palace and sat there, watching the growing chaos. Back at Dragonwall, the tank rolled across the plateau and began making its way down the mountain toward Stormwatch.
“Where are they going?” Dane shouted at Socrates. “Why don’t they shoot?”
“River can’t fire in that direction,” Socrates said. “Not without risking even more casualties. She’ll try to get into a better position and wait for a clear shot. We need to help her. We need to draw the beast away from the city.”
“Devils,” Dane cursed under his breath. He turned, waving at one of his men. “Captain, fetch my horse!”
The soldier saluted him and relayed the command to the two men standing guard at the doors. Seconds later, an engineer appeared leading the horse by its reins. Like Elbereth’s mount, this horse was also mechanical. Its armor and frame were made of black steel, polished to an obsidian-like shine. Behind the saddle, at the horse’s flanks, Socrates caught a glimpse of steel gears turning in slow circles. They were connected to pistons, actuators, and other complex machinery that allowed the creature to move and turn with near-perfection. The horse was almost as responsive as its organic counterpart, and far more durable.
Dane quickly donned a few pieces of plate mail and then leapt into the saddle. One of his men handed him a helmet, which automatically clicked into place as it touched his head. He pressed a hidden button at the bottom of the jaw, and the visor lifted.
“Your shield,” one of the men said, handing him a long kite-shield painted with the banner of Dane’s family. He accepted it, took a moment to adjust the horse’s reins, and then asked for his lance. Then, pressing his knees into the switches at each side of the saddle, the horse surged forward in a gallop.
Socrates turned and found Kale standing there. The warrior had his armor on, his two massive broadswords strapped to his back.
“Where is he going?” Kale said. “I only left for a minute!
Socrates didn’t answer. He hurried over to the edge of the plateau and climbed onto the steamwagon. As the ape settled into the driver’s position, Kale jump onto the bench next to him. In a flash, they were off.
Chapter 32
The chaos grew as word of the attack spread. The citizens of Stormwatch, well accustomed to hiding in their basements and tunnels through the long foggy nights, seemed to forget all of this in the light of day. Instead, they fled into the streets in a panic, racing wildly from one place to another as they sought out missing family members, or hurried to secure their valuables before the fires had a chance to spread. This made the peasants easy targets for the dragons, who swooped down over the city spraying fire and snatching them up, rending their victims to pieces.
Into this bedlam charged Dane’s fighters, armed to the teeth with bows, crossbows, and all types of close-quarters weapons. First among them came the knights: a dozen fully armored warriors dressed in plate mail, riding astride mechanical warhorses of various colors and designs. They charged through the crowd shouting orders, getting the foot soldiers positioned to attack the dragons as they swept overhead or landed on the wide, cobbled streets.
Not far away, the tank closed in on the palace. Inside, the halfling Micah dutifully maintained his position on the gunner’s platform while River operated the controls. The very small driver’s window made it difficult to navigate the crowded streets, especially while keeping an eye on the dragon sitting atop the palace. Now and then, River told Micah to stick his head out and check something in their path, or verify that the black dragon hadn’t moved. So far, he hadn’t. But Micah had other bad news.
“It’s getting dark,” he said at one point. “I can see the fog coming down over Dragonwall already.”
“We don’t have much time, then,” said River. “We have to kill this dragon before nightfall. If we don’t, they’ll destroy the entire city. Is he still at the northern end of the palace?”
Micah nodded. “If we climb the hill at the end of Baker’s Row, we might have a clear shot.”
River agreed. The Bonecrusher continued to roll through the crowd at a snail’s pace. River clenched her jaw and cursed under her breath, understandably frustrated. Time was short, but she couldn’t open up the throttle for fear of crushing the panicked mobs in their path.
Along the way, they remembered to put on their earmuffs so they would be ready when it was time to fire. Finally, just as the sun was setting, the Bonecrusher rolled into position. It took a minute to get the tank properly situated, and another for Micah to get his sights lined up. When they were ready, River took a peek through the viewfinder just to be sure.
“What an incredible creature,” Micah said. “He’s almost regal. He hasn’t moved from that spot this entire time. I wonder what he’s doing up there?”
“He’s supervising the attack,” River said. “Making sure as many people get killed as possible.”
“But why?” said Micah. “I don’t understand. I thought the dragon was only interested in the starfall. Isn’t that why he’s been attacking the train?”
River glanced at him. She considered it for a second, and then shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose he blames us for taking the starfall. He’s smart enough to realize that if he stops us, then his lair will be safe.”
Micah put his face back to the viewfinder. The sights were lined up perfectly, and he could clearly see the dragon turning its head left and right as it looked over the city. Behind it, the sky was vivid pink and orange with the light of the setting sun.
“If you have a clear shot, take it,” River said. “Do it now, while you still can.”
Micah took a deep breath. He put his fin
ger on the trigger and felt the weight of the world settle on his shoulders. One shot, he thought. I have one shot, and if I miss, he’ll move…
That wasn’t the only thing bothering him. Micah knew that killing the black dragon might very well mean the end of the species. That knowledge was a heavy burden. At the same time, if he didn’t kill the dragon, it could mean the loss of countless human lives. Women, children… all that innocent blood would be on his hands.
The dragon turned slightly, facing to the north, and Micah snapped back to reality. The viewfinder’s sights now lined up with the center of the dragon’s chest. It was a perfect shot. He had to fire, had to do it now before the dragon moved again.
Micah squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. He glanced at River, frowning.
“What is it?” she said.
Micah opened and closed his hand, showing the movement of the trigger. “It won’t fire!” he said breathlessly.
“Devils,” River cursed. She stood up, squeezing around him. She pulled the lever and forced the chamber open. The unfired round sat at a slight angle, wedged into the ejection port. She pulled her dagger and began prying on it, trying to force the round back into place.
“Wait!” Micah said. “Is that safe? I mean… it could explode, couldn’t it?”
“Of course,” she said with a grunt. “That is what it was designed to do.”
“But if it explodes now, with the chamber open…”
“It will kill us both,” she said. “Here, push on this.”
Micah hesitated. River glared at him, and he obediently grabbed the end of the shell.
“Push,” she said again.
Micah obeyed. He pushed while River twisted and pried with her knife. There was a sudden clicking sound, and the round dropped into place with a loud klang! Micah winced.
“There!” River said, sheathing her weapon. She removed the failed round and set it on the floor behind the seat. “Grab another. Hurry!”
Micah turned, glancing nervously at the previous round lying on the floor. He straddled it, lifting another round from the rack. He carefully slid the new round into place and closed the chamber. As soon as the cannon was locked, Micah resumed his position. He took a look through the viewfinder. He turned the crank, raising the barrel ever so slightly, and then lowered it back down.
“What’s going on?” River said impatiently. “What are you doing?”
Micah pulled away from the viewfinder. “He’s gone. I can’t see the dragon anywhere!”
River cursed. She threw open the door of the tank and climbed out. Standing atop the Bonecrusher, she turned to face the palace. In the darkling twilight, she saw a shadow moving in the distance. Micah climbed out and stood next to her.
“There,” River said, pointing. “He’s moved to the southern corner.”
“It’s too dark,” Micah said. “I can barely see him.”
“I’d kill for a pair of Tal’mar eyes right now,” River said. “Get back inside. I need you to steer.”
They climbed back into the tank. This time Micah took the controls, and River squeezed uncomfortably onto the gunner’s platform, resting on her knees. She instructed Micah to turn the tank while she focused on getting the cannon’s barrel leveled.
“To the left,” she said. “A little more.”
As they turned, River once again caught a glimpse of the dragon moving behind the façade of the palace. She brought the cannon up a bit higher, and told Micah to turn a little more to the left.
“Can you see him?” Micah said.
“Barely. He’s behind the wall, but I think I’m aiming at his chest.”
“You think?” Micah said. “That’s not going to-”
River squeezed the trigger, drowning out the sound of his voice. This time, the cannon fired. Without waiting to see the results, River opened the chamber and locked in another round. She spun around, and put her eye back on the viewfinder.
“I think I hit him,” she said. “He’s moving. Turn right.”
Micah grabbed the controls and started maneuvering the tank to the right. It had turned no more than an inch or two when River fired a second time. As the reverberations faded, she continued to stare through the viewfinder. Micah watched her with an expectant look.
“Well?” he said at last, when he could no longer take the suspense.
She swung her head around, staring at Micah. “I hit him,” River said, biting her lip. “I’m pretty sure of it, but I don’t think I killed him. He’s inside the palace.”
Chapter 33
Astride his great mechanical warhorse, Dane charged through the mass of fleeing servants on the streets outside the palace. He flew past the unguarded outer gate, only to find half a dozen dragons waiting for him in the inner courtyard. The beasts saw him coming, and raised themselves into aggressive stances. Dane leaned hard to the right, guiding his steed along the courtyard wall. As he flew by, two dragons spat fire at him. Their aim could not match the mechanical horse’s speed. Horse and rider both passed by unsinged.
As Dane circled round the courtyard, a large emerald dragon lunged into his path. Dane leveled his lance and aimed it at the creature’s heart. The dragon reared up, taking in a great breath. Dane pressed the switch on his lance handle and fired the tip of the weapon at the beast. The lance tip penetrated the dragon’s scaly chest, and embedded itself deep inside. The dragon let out a shriek and backed away.
Taking advantage of her momentary confusion, Dane squeezed his thighs against the pressure plates on the saddle, spurring the mechanical horse in a burst of speed. The dragon had no time to react as the blunted end of Dane’s lance slammed into its abdomen. The solid impact tore through the dragon’s flesh and ripped the lance from the king’s hand, jarring him violently in the saddle. Dane righted himself just in time to steer his mount to the left and avoid being crushed under the dragon’s weight as it fell.
The creature dropped, breathing laboriously as Dane sped by. In the background, the king heard voices. At least a few of his men had finally caught up to him. Without wasting a second, Dane drew the long sword from the scabbard on his saddle and headed for the next dragon.
Chapter 34
By the time Socrates and Kale reached the palace, the battle was fully engaged. Seven of Dane’s men were locked in combat with two dragons -one lavender and one crimson- at the front of the courtyard. Both were very large. An emerald dragon near the outer wall was lying on the ground, either dead or dying. This was Dane’s first victim. The king had engaged a second vicious-looking silver near the back. He was alone, on foot. His horse lay nearby, smashed into a thousand pieces.
Up above, the big black male sat perched on the roof, his watchful gaze drifting between the battle in the courtyard and the outright destruction in the streets beyond. For the moment, he seemed content just to watch.
Socrates steered the steamwagon through the soldiers and headed for the back of the courtyard. As they closed in on Dane, Kale rose to his feet and drew one of his swords. As Socrates hit the brakes, Kale launched himself through the air, using the inertia to propel himself much higher and farther than he ever could have jumped on his own.
Kale landed on the silver dragon’s back, resting on his knees. He winced as the razor-sharp spines punctured his leather breeches and bit into the flesh of his legs. He pushed to his feet, ignoring the pain, and staggered forward. The dragon lurched and twisted beneath him.
Kale had only taken two steps when the creature reared up. He raised his blade and brought it down with both hands, driving it deep into the dragon’s back. The silver dragon howled, blowing flames as it lurched from side to side. Kale lost his footing, but managed to stay atop the dragon by clinging to the handle of his sword with both hands.
The silver dragon spun, twisting its neck, turning circles as it tried to reach him. Its wings flapped wildly, fanning the nearby flames and filling the air with dust. Below, King Dane danced in and out of range, trying to find an opening to attack wit
h his sword. The dragon’s wild movements left little opportunity for a close-quarters attack. Without any weapons, Socrates could only lurch from side to side, trying to attract the dragon’s focus and create an opening for Dane to attack. It wasn’t working. The dragon was smart enough to know Dane’s sword was the true danger.
It seemed hopeless until one of Dane’s knights came charging in on a mechanical horse. He found an opening and drove his lance deep into the dragon’s side, just beneath the wing. Before releasing his grip, the knight activated the switch on his lance. They heard an explosive crack! and the end of the lance burst through the other side of the dragon’s body in a spray of blood and guts.
The impact threw the knight off his horse, but the damage was done. The dragon dropped. Kale pushed to his knees and tried to tug his sword free, but the dragon’s dense sinewy flesh held it fast. He rose to his feet, grunting as he struggled to dislodge the weapon.
A beastly roar shook the walls of the palace. The noise reverberated through their bodies, and the fighters instinctively fell back a step or two. Kale faltered. He raised his gaze to see the big black spreading its wings.
“He’s coming down!” Dane shouted. “Spread out!”
They heard an explosion somewhere behind the wall. There was a loud crack as the Bonecrusher’s first shot grazed the roof of the palace and struck the dragon’s wing. The shot penetrated the thin, almost transparent membrane. The dragon roared; a bestial inhuman sound that sent cold chills coursing through their blood.
“What was that?” Kale said, glancing at Socrates.
“That was the Bonecrusher,” the ape. “It seems it was useful after all.”
“Not if we don’t kill the beast,” Dane said. “When that wing heals, he’ll be meaner than ever.” He turned and shouted a few orders at his men, arranging them in the courtyard for the dragon’s attack. The agitated creature moved back and forth across the rooftop, glaring down at them as bits of wood and tile rained down on the courtyard.
The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3) Page 22