GeneStorm: City in the Sky

by Paul Kidd

  The bulk of the fleeing crusaders ran three hundred metres to the north. Kenda and his scouts reined in and spread their arms, indicating a firing line facing to the south. “Form line and open fire! Form line, open fire!” The crusaders crammed themselves into ragged ranks. Kenda roared in approval as men blasted rifles at the rampaging Spark Town cavalry. “Kill the mutants! Kill! Kill!”

  The line formed, facing south. Ragged, panicked men saw mutant cavalry sabring bloody paths through incoming fugitives. If the line opened fire, their own men would take the bulk of the volleys. A sergeant looked to Kenda in panic.

  “Sir! Our own men are in line of fire!”

  “Fire!” Kenda used his horse to shove men into the ranks. “Never mind the casualties. Fire! Fire!”

  The ground shook.

  There was a noise – a terrifying thunder and cries on the wind. Kenda turned, sword in hand, and saw a wave of madness streaking towards his men.

  Ferals.

  The Striper Tribe’s finest warriors – three hundred fighters armed with bone tipped lances and huge two handed flails – came rampaging from the north, where Beau had held them chafing in reserve. Now they were unleashed. Beau rode at their head, slim sword in hand. Kitterpokkie was in the front rank, surrounded by would-be bridegrooms. The force came at a wild, frenzied gallop, thundering across the plains. A few crusaders turned and screamed in warning – several rifles fired. Kenda and his scouts spurred away to the east, and then the feral warriors slammed straight into the rear of the human battle line.

  They crashed home with a monstrous noise, like a lightning bolt blasting down a wall. Crusaders were speared and clubbed – Beau rode churning through the lines, Pendleton snapping and hurtling men aside. From the other side, Snapper and her sabreurs cut into the crusader ranks. The human army vanished in the wild melee.

  Snapper met with Beau, Kitterpokkie and her bridegrooms in the middle of the fight. Snapper’s friend Gunner was there beside the huge man Kitterpokkie had beaten in her fistfight. They rode down the enemy infantry and came to a halt, turning to take stock of the fight.

  The human army was finished. The ferals were rampaging through them. Crusaders refused to run to the Spark Town militia and beg for safety, and so they tried to flee east, back to their tunnel. But the cavalry were amongst them, firing and lancing. Horse archers raced in groups, shooting fugitives as they ran. Snapper rose in her stirrups, clasped hands with the ferals in joy, then looked to hunt for the crusaders’ leaders. Beau, Kitterpokkie and the ferals came with her as she rode out of the melee and out into the plains.

  Kenda and two horsemen were fleeing the battle, trying to escape back to their distant tunnel. Snapper saw the man and dropped her sabre, letting it hang from its wrist strap as she drew her carbine. Onan instinctively began his firing run, building slowly, moving into a straight, smooth canter. He ran with superb, flawless grace, and Snapper rose to stand in her stirrups. The feral warriors reined in with Kitt and Beau beside them. All watched as the shark made her run.

  Snapper let the range close. Her body perfectly poised, she opened fire.

  The first bullet cut past a horseman. The second struck the same man in the neck, hurtling him from the saddle. Kenda wrenched his mount aside, swerving as another shot hissed past. They were drawing far from the main battle. Cavalrymen, warriors and militia were ending the fight, coming to the edge of the battle and watching the duel out on the plains. Snapper closed – Onan was swifter, and by far the better mount. She fired again and again, and Kenda’s last scout reeled and fell. Snapper slung her empty carbine and once again caught up her sword.

  Kenda slewed his horse around and came to a halt, facing Snapper sword in hand. Snapper slowed Onan to a canter, then a trot, finally halting two hundred metres from her man.

  They watched each other across the empty ground.

  Myriad troops wanted to surge forward and attack – but the huge star-painted feral beside Kitterpokkie signalled them back.

  “Watch.”

  Out on the plains, Snapper coldly observed her enemy. Smoke from Kenda’s shattered genocidal army blew past. The human swished his long straight blade through the air, sneering at his foe. Snapper patted Onan on the neck, and felt the leather reins creak in her grasp.

  The shark rested her bloodied sword on her shoulder, fur-trimmed pelisse hanging and the horsehair streamer of her helmet crest stirring in the wind. Onan screeched defiance, then raked the grass with his claws.

  The bird trotted forward, breaking into an easy, loping run.

  Kenda jabbed his horse, and the beast surged forward. He trotted, slashing his sword through the air, then spurred his horse into a charge. Onan moved into the gallop, and Snapper leaned forward, perfectly poised, levelling the great curved blade before her like a lance. The two mounts streaked towards each other.

  Kenda shouted, and then the two swords met with a ringing crash.

  It was too fast to see. They seemed to strike and slither for an instant – sparks flashing bright – then the riders were flying past each other. Snapper’s curved blade had flicked up Kenda’s point and then ripped a wound beneath his armpit. Kenda’s sword point had struck Snapper’s helmet and skipped off, ringing like a bell. The impact made Snapper shake her head. Kenda wheeled his horse, cursing, bleeding, then he charged back towards the shark. Snapper met him again at full gallop, and the two swords collided at monstrous speed. The blades glissed and parted – one of Snapper’s cadanettes was cut free, and the edge of the shark’s blade scored a narrow razor slash across Kenda’s lower jaw.

  They turned into one another, and the swords rose and fell. Snapper fought in silence. Kenda shouted with every stroke. But the shark’s curved blade was made for this – for the swirl of horseback melee. Kenda tried to hook back his arm and plunge his point home, and a great whipping cut from Snapper’s sword slashed across his chest, slicing away his shoulder belt and jacket. A savage backstroke almost took off Kenda’s head, parried at the last possible instant. The shark swirled her sword about in a fluid cut, driving Kenda back and almost hurtling him from the saddle.

  The man was being beaten. But then Kenda crashed his sword guard into Onan’s head, slamming the hilt down twice onto the bird’s skull. Onan staggered and began to fall. Snapper threw herself onto Kenda and grappled him, both fighters crashing into the dirt.

  Kenda whipped his sword down, hoping to slice into the shark, but she was already up and away. Pelisse swirling behind her, Snapper got to her feet, sabre held low en guard.

  Kenda rose. This was where he excelled – duelling with swords on foot. Blood streaking unnoticed down his side, he flicked out his long straight blade and sank into the predatory crouch of a trained swordsman.

  He flicked his blade and made a lightning lunge.

  The straight sword was fast. Snapper parried, then parried again. She spun her sabre in a circle that should have severed Kenda’s arm at the wrist. But he had leapt back, then came straight back into the attack. He lunged twice more, parried a vicious cut, then dodged back out of range as another cut hissed a hand’s breadth from his face.

  Both combatants panted, flicking sweat back from their eyes. Kenda’s long blade had scored a slicing cut across the outside of Snapper’s thigh. She ignored it, still in her battle stance. She took a high guard that Kenda had never seen before – the curved sword edge up at head height, with the wicked point aimed at his throat.

  The unusual stance left Snapper’s flank wide open. With a shout of joy, the man stamped his boot, skipped sideways and launched a cut at the woman’s waist.

  His cut almost killed him.

  The curved blade lunged, almost spitting Kenda through. He stopped a millimetre short of disaster, leaping back as he saw her move. He stood with the shark’s blade quivering just short of his chest.

  Kenda stalked backward, angered. He paced back and forth, glaring hatred at the shark, then came back into the attack.

  The blades rang back and fo
rth, crashing together. The huge force of Snapper’s blows was matched by the flickering speed of Kenda’s blade. Both masters, they clashed together, boots thudding hard into the dust.

  Snapper took a slice along the cheek, then drove Kenda back with a cut that could have severed the man’s leg. Exhausted, both combatants staggered apart. Snapper flicked back her long hair. Panting, she straightened her back and came back into the fight.

  Once again she took her strange high guard. Kenda tried to lunge past, but Snapper adjusted her rear foot, keeping her sabre blocking his every approach. Then her sword wavered, making a tiny opening in her defence. Kenda gave a roar of triumph, flicked Snapper’s blade aside and lunged

  Snapper gave a shout.

  With a twist of her wrist she knew the supreme pleasure of feeling her curved blade catch and corkscrew the enemy sword aside. The momentum of her sword transferred into a savage downward cut. The blade slammed into Kenda’s shoulder, driving the man to his knees. She wrenched the blade free – and Kenda screamed as he saw Snapper whip her blade straight down towards his skull.

  Kenda blocked with both hands like a quarterstaff, but his sword shattered clean through. Snapper’s blade continued down, smashing through the man’s helmet, through his skull and into the chest below. Ferals and watching Spark Towners gave a wild scream of joy.

  The shark kicked the body off her sword. She staggered – sweating, cut and streaked with blood. Wiping her sword clean on a handful of grass, she then limped over to where Onan was rising out of the dust. The bird shook himself and seemed none the worse for wear. Snapper wearily reached out to check his head.

  “Are you alright, mate?”

  Woefully tired, the bird caressed his head against her.

  “Salty cracker?”

  “Yeah – one for you and me both.” The shark put an arm over Onan, and walked with him slowly back towards her waiting friends.

  “Come on birdie. Let’s go get a very cold, cold beer.”

  Chapter 19

  “Right! That’s probably enough.” Snapper patted at the travois that had been attached to a lanky beetle-horse. She lifted up her hands in finger talk. “Do you remember the way? Down, then into the second tunnel. Follow it to the hole we dug at Padbury.”

  Gunner nodded. The feral warrior checked the ties on the cargo – wheel motors that Snapper had lifted from a wrecked golf cart. He patted the load happily. “We remember. So – this goes to Hopper, the large grasshopper man?”

  “It does. If you trade him two of the motors, he will turn the other two into a wind generator for you. That should give you some electric light in camp. Later on, we will show you how to keep food fresh and cold.”

  Snapper checked over the rest of the loads. Five feral warriors had travelled with them, and four were now towing trade goods – copper, brass, silver, batteries and clear window sheets. Excellent salvage indeed.

  Once again they were at the wonderful ruined city atop the barrier cliff. The place was green and cool: long weeks had gone by since the great battle, and summer was easing into rainy season, bringing softer days and a cool night breeze. Although villages, towns and tribes had escaped with surprisingly few casualties, there were inevitably sad holes to be filled. But the tribes and settled townsfolk were fast friends at long, long last. The Striper tribe had been first, but others had come hesitantly into Spark Town to trade. Peace had finally come to the plains.

  Snapper, Beau, Throckmorton and Kitterpokkie had organised this first joint journey to the world above the barrier. Samuels and Toby had also come – returning at last to the city they had found in their youth, so long ago. Kitterpokkie’s potential bride grooms also came, along with Gunner, his arrow brother and the huge star-painted warrior Kitterpokkie had boxed with many weeks before. Although the eastward tunnels had been demolished, the subway tunnel from Padbury to the funicular railway had been reopened at last. It gave them a perfect a route beneath the radioactive dead lands.

  The feral warriors had provided much needed extra security to protect the explorers from pygmies. Thankfully, the horrid tentacle beasts seemed to have exterminated one another: there were no new signs of them in the ancient, quiet streets. And so the explorers had made their finds and helped the ferals seek their trade goods. All was well with the world.

  The feral warriors moved off and away from the city, setting off on the long trek back to the underground rail tunnels. But the star-painted warrior remained. He had freshly smartened up his body paint, and fixed hood ornaments from old cars on the harness of his mighty beetle-horse. Throckmorton was helping him to polish them all, buffing them with a marvellous cloth found in an old jeweller’s shop, that brought everything it touched to a brilliant shine.

  Snapper walked past Toby and Samuels, who were seated on a log while little glow-ball rodents drifted through the trees just overhead. They were both puzzling over an artefact found in an old shop near the lake shore. It seemed to be a little screen projector of some kind. Toby had high hopes that there might be old movies stored inside.

  The shark walked up to Kitterpokkie and pointed to the feral warrior, nodding at the huge man with her chin.

  “So our friend here. Is he – aaaah?”

  “Oh – ‘Sparkle’?” The pink mantis was just testing the saddle straps of her budgerigar. “Coming with us, apparently. He believes we all need looking after.”

  “Oh! Well sure. Why not indeed.” The shark polished her spectacles. “He’s not another potential bridegroom, is he?”

  “I have had a word with them all on that. The boys shall just have to work it all out of their systems.” Kitterpokkie finished her preparations. “I am married to my work!”

  “Indeed, indeed!” Snapper gave a stretch, making something crack between her shoulder blades. “And I’m very glad.”

  “Let us not dismiss married bliss too quickly!” Mounted upon Pendleton, Beau adjusted his already immaculate cuffs. “I for one…”

  Snapper growled. Beau hastily abandoned the joke. “In any case, are we moving on? I believe the day dictates we proceed at a pleasant amble.”

  “Amble it is. We have all the time in the world.”

  Samuels and Toby mounted up alongside the feral warrior now known as Sparkle. Snapper fed a salty cracker to Onan, who watched the world about himself with a benevolent roll of his eye. Swinging up onto the big peach-coloured bird, Snapper settled her coat to hang jauntily from one shoulder.

  Toby and Samuels rode up by her side. They all sat on their mounts, looking out across the great lake with its drowned towers – the city shores green and mysterious. Toby sighed, then looked up at the sky.

  “I wonder where it went? Mistral, I mean.”

  Snapper joined him in gazing at the sky.

  “Better being on the outside than the inside. That was a damned narrow run, I’ll tell you.” The shark sighed. “Guess it’s motored on its way somewhere. Seems to wander about…”

  “Still – there must be good salvage up there?”

  “I guess…”

  Kitterpokkie came riding jauntily along, smoothing down her various limbs.

  “Oh I’m sure we might be able to predict its movements eventually. Something could be done!”

  The shark looked at her friend. “Kitt – it’s a thousand metres up in the air?”

  “I could rig up a balloon! Or perhaps some sort of kite!” The mantis waved a hand. “All part of the adventure.”

  “Well, we’ll bear it in mind for later on.”

  They looked off toward the mountains to the east and west. The long valley seemed to continue north, rising up and becoming an astoundingly beautiful rhododendron forest. Toby borrowed the binoculars and gazed northward, fascinated by the little waterfalls that drifted mist across countless flowers.

  “I wonder what’s there? Over there, where those waterfalls are?” The old man looked down the valley in joy. “Would there be caves behind the waterfalls?”

  Samuels joined him in l
ooking to the north.

  “What might be over those mountains? How far does it all go?”

  Snapper felt a great, pure joy overflowing her heart.

  “Let’s go see.”

  Onan happily fluffed up his crest. The travellers walked their mounts forward, off through the cool trees. Glowing insects and little glow-balls floated all about them as they rode off into the glorious golden light.

  Behind them, Throckmorton finished eating a last tasty little raisin, then dusted off his tentacles. Honking his horn, he whirred off in pursuit of the others, looking all about himself with wondering eyes.

  In the skies high above, a single giga-moth turned shimmering in the dawn, then banked off towards the mountains far away.