by Candy Rae
By common consent, the others left them alone.
* * * * *
Julia
At dusk the exhausted Lindars who were holding the ridge in front of Julia found time to rest. They had survived to fight another day.
: Alyei, please tell the divisional commanders that tomorrow will be harder. We’ve used up much of our reserves so they must use every soldier under their command to best effect. Also tell them that I, we, are proud of them. There is no need to say any more. Each one of them knows what he or she must do :
She turned to look at Hansei, the Susalai of the Avuzdel. “What news?”
“The Lai are on their way,” he answered. “They should cross over into the Duchesne airspace at dawn tomorrow.”
“It’s as close as that?”
“Yes. Chizu has reached Danal, Asya and the others.”
“They’ve found the core!” breathed Julia, “at last!”
“We must survive tomorrow,” added Hansei. “I have also had word from Zaoaldavdr. Ten Quorko are on their way. We do not know where the other fifteen are. We believe that this is why the Larg are waiting and do not mount a night attack.”
“So tomorrow we face the Quorko and the kohorts. Alyei, please inform all commanders via the communications pivot about this news.”
Alyei did and added to Julia : all we can do is to hold on and hope. We have held off the Larg for two days, surely we can manage one more, even against the Dglai. I wonder why they are only sending ten of these Quorko things and not all of them? :
Along the ridge, soldiers and orderlies were working to clear the area of the dead and the wounded, lifting the former on to carts that trundled their despondent way to the rear where they were emptied of their load before returning to be filled with another cargo of inert bodies. Among them were Zak Talanson and Hilla Talansdochter, brother and sister, who like hundreds of others, Lind, Human and not a few horses, had given their lives so that their friends, comrades and families would have a chance of life.
All through the night the Larg nibbled and probed at the lines.
No one got much sleep.
* * * * *
Zilla
The stream of wounded flowed into the casualty stations and hospital tents like an unending river of pain. Zilla soon lost count of the number of times she helped the stretcher bearers move the bleeding, moaning men and women from the field-stretchers and on to one of the examination gurneys.
The medical staff were working in shifts, six bells on and four off. At the end of each shift Zilla stumbled over to the stuffy rest tent, grabbed something to eat and fell into the first sleep bag she found. It was always still warm from its previous occupant.
It seemed unrealistic to believe that the army could sustain such high casualties for much longer. The battle was now in its third day and the charges of the kohorts were not slowing if the numbers of wounded were anything to go by. Day or night, it seemed to make no difference.
Zilla had by now stopped thinking of her patients as individuals - they had merged into rivulets of pain-filled objects.
So many were there that the doctors only operated on those with the best chance of survival.
Those with fatal wounds were carried over to a large area, dosed with ungba and left to die. Mercifully, using this drug meant that they did not feel any pain. It was a dangerous drug, fatal in large doses. Zilla knew that some of the medics administering the drug were giving some of these unfortunates too much on purpose.
The more lightly wounded and the aftercare was left to the nurses. Even Zilla, with only a few months training was learning how to stitch up gashes and to set broken bones with bandage and splint.
It was as she was sewing up the gashed and teeth pocked forearm of an unconscious militiawoman that Zilla began to be aware of new noises coming from the direction of the ridge.
She had got used to the drone of battle. This was different. She paused in her stitching and raised her head to listen.
There was a nun working beside her in the tent, from the nursing order known as the White Sisters. Her habit was no longer the pristine white of her arrival and was smeared with blood and grime.
“What’s that?” asked the nun in a quick and fearful voice.
“I don’t know,” answered Zilla bending once more to her interrupted task.
“It sounds like explosions of some kind,” said the panicking nun. “You don’t suppose it is the Dglai, do you?”
“Nothing we can do about it if it is,” answered Zilla as she tied off another stitch.
“We should go to the slit trenches,” said the nun.
“I’m not leaving my patients,” replied a stubborn Zilla, smearing more smaha ointment on the wound, looking round for clean bandages and accepting one from the nun’s outstretched hand.
* * * * *
Niaill
Exaltation had risen in the hearts of every Larg warrior on the battlefield. Their allies, the Dglai, had arrived!
Their shiny metal flying ships, the Quorko, ten of them, were belching forth flames on top of their enemies on the ridge.
Soon their Kohortangan would order a final charge and the massed ranks of the kohorts would sweep up and over the ridge and the big killings could begin.
The Larg would be ascendant - the absolute rulers of the planet and all would bow down before them.
Their long awaited destiny was imminent.
Many of the frightened soldiers on the ridge ran to the trenches, desperate to escape from the flames of death.
Niaill and Taraya watched as the flames drew closer.
: They’ll sear the ridge line then move back on to the reserves! Taraya, order everyone to crouch. When the fire moves beyond the ridge line they’re to stand fast. The Larg will attack then :
In the forward trenches the army waited for the flames above them to move on. The smell of burning flesh began to permeate the air as the flames caught those not quick or agile enough to reach the dug-outs.
Even in the trenches a soldier was not safe. Some of the gouts of fire found access into them too and those sheltering were burned alive, screaming in agony.
The ten Quorko moved behind the front lines and began to fire on the reserve and support troops.
Those at the ridge climbed out of their trenches and took up their positions.
Every single kohort began to run forward. The Kohortangan intended that this time his warriors would break through.
: This is the end : ‘said’ Niaill : Danal and the others have failed : he looked round at what remained of his Ryzck.
The Larg were almost upon then. Niaill could see their snarling faces, the blood-lust in their eyes.
He sensed the ten Quorko above them, felt the air move as they swung away from the reserve area and flew back to take up position behind the Larg. He saw the metal ships hovering, ready he assumed, to fly in behind the Larg as they advanced.
Then he heard Deby’s excited shout.
“The Lai! The Lai are here!”
There were golden dragons hurtling down out of the skies above the ten Quorko, breathing a fire of their own.
* * * * *
The Guildmaster and the Lai
Despite his trepidation about what was before him, Annert was thoroughly enjoying himself.
He and Haru were but a small part of the formation of Lai who were flying above the clouds towards the battlefield. There were over a hundred Lai now; they had met up with another group after they had left the reservoir. Haru told him that this was almost the entire complement of adult Lai on the planet, only the young, the old and the mothers sitting on eggs had remained behind.
Annert wanted the flight to go on forever.
It was cold and more than cold. Annert was thankful he was well wrapped up. The fly-draft whistled at his clothing but even with all the layers we was feeling shivery and his feet were like blocks of ice.
The only sound he could hear was the steady beating of Haru’s wings.
/> He squinted forward to where Velku was flying at the very front of the formation - he didn’t want to miss the signal.
The clouds made it difficult to make him out. He hoped that Chizu, Tala and the others in the desert weren’t experiencing a similar cloud pattern that would impede the charging of the crystal. Haru had told him however that these clouds were local to the area and that the skies above the desert were clear. He continued to worry, not that there was anything he could do about it.
Word had come that morning that the Quorko had been sighted flying towards the ridge.
Annert breathed deeply. The air was thinner up here and it took more effort to breathe. It had made him feel light-headed until he had learned to adjust his breathing to compensate.
There, there it was, Velku was tilting his wings left as he began to circle.
That was the signal. It was time to light the fuses on the bombas.
The battle must be right underneath them or at least not far away.
Annert wondered how Velku knew that now was the time but only for a heartbeat, he and the other nineteen volunteers had a job to do.
With his teeth he pulled off his fur-lined mittens, letting them drop. He was wearing fingerless woollen gloves underneath.
Haru began to glide, trying to keep his flight path as even and as steady as he could and Annert took the tinderbox from the pouch on his belt. His frozen fingers struggled with the catch but he managed it at last and peered inside. Yes, it was still alight.
Now for the next bit. Annert leant down and pulled at the hay net containing the first bomba.
Thank goodness these ropes are tight.
He pulled the hay net up and set it on his lap, between his knees. The ropes were tight and uncomfortable, they were digging into his thighs but he had got used to them, was glad he had told Jhonas to tie them very tight that morning. He had no fear about falling off.
He felt Haru’s middle rumble between his legs and he knew what it meant. Haru was preparing his metabolism to prepare flame. Once the bombas had been dropped, Haru and the others would descend on the battlefield and take on the Quorko with flaming breath.
The Lai flew in a giant circle above the clouds, waiting for the second signal.
Annert sat on Haru’s back, the bomba in his lap.
There, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the Lai had detached himself from the circle and was descending down into the clouds. He thought it was young Aniku.
His task was to find out if the Quorko had indeed arrived at the ridge.
If they were there then the bombas would be dropped. If they were not then the Lai intended to start hunting for them.
A long moment passed, everyone’s eyes were fixed on the clouds through which Aniku would re-emerge.
There, there he was; a flash of gold and he did, his wings labouring as he strove for altitude. He veered to the left then to the right and Annert took at deep breath.
This was the signal.
The Quorko were below.
With fumbling fingers Annert found the opening for the fuse cavity on the bomba. It clicked open. He pulled out the fuse. He felt in his pocket and extracted a wooden fire-spill, coated in fireoil. It would light like a torch when applied to the tinderbox.
Cupping the spill with one hand he applied the light-end to the tinderbox. It lit with a flash and a flare and he made haste to apply the spill to the bomba fuse.
The blue coloured fuse turned red and began to burn. Annert pushed the fuse back into the cavity and snapped the cover over, pushing down the catch with all the firmness he could manage.
Annert began to count.
One, two, three.
He threw the spill away and thumped Haru on the shoulder, pulling his knife out of its sheath.
Four, five, six.
Haru responded. He veered away from the circle, much as Aniku had done and began to dive, down into the clouds, his wings close and very fast.
The wind whistled in Annert’s ears. He felt them pop. As they went through the clouds the cloud-dampness soaked through him.
Ten, eleven, twelve.
They were through, not the first but not the last of the twenty either.
Eighteen, nineteen, twenty.
The battlefield below he saw as a blur, as movement only.
Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight.
He squinted through streaming eyes and made out what must be one of the Quorko, hovering over what must be the Larg kohorts.
Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two.
Twenty-three to go.
Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine.
They were over the Quorko.
Forty-two, forty-three, forty-four.
Annert cut the rope and released the bomba from his lap.
Forty-five, forty-six.
It dropped like a stone, down and down.
Annert continued to count.
Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four.
The explosion was almost an anti-climax, almost but not quite.
Annert, peering down into the fire and the smoke thought his bomba had hit the Quorko but he could not be sure.
Haru’s wings were working as he strained to regain altitude, to get back into the cover of the clouds so that Annert could ready the second bomba.
As they climbed, Annert saw the Lai, those not carrying passengers and bombas, emerge from the clouds and dive into the attack, trickles of flame belching from their mouths as they manoeuvred to take on the Quorko.
Then he and Haru were in the clouds again and Annert realised that it was just as wet going up as it had been going down.
* * * * *
Zilla
The flames were white hot. Zilla and Maura cowered together under one of the beds as the Quorko flew overhead, belching out fire from its nose-point.
It felt as if it was the end of the world.
“When will it stop?” screamed Maura, her eyes screwed tight-shut and her fingers in her ears.
Some of the patients were calling out.
“Soon,” called back Zilla, we’re about to be incinerated here!
The hospital tent smelt of burning, the acrid smell of burning canvas and the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh. Zilla’s eyes began to smart.
Then she felt a searing hot blast of air and Zilla’s world erupted into blinding-white chaos as the tent collapsed over her and Maura in a sheet of flame.
She held her breath until her lungs ached. Instinctively she knew that to breathe in would mean death as her lungs filled with smoke.
How long she lay there in the fire-blackened remains of the tent she never knew. She realised later that it must have been a while and that she must have passed out. When she woke she was lying on her back. She could see the sky and the flames had gone.
“Maura,” she said, shaking her friend. Maura did not respond to Zilla’s agitated shaking.
“Maura?”
She reached over to turn Maura’s head.
“No. Noooooooo!” Zilla was screaming inside. Maura’s sightless grey eyes were staring at the sky.
Zilla was the only person to survive the inferno in that tent.
She scrambled out from what remained of the twisted bed frame and trying not to look at the charred bodies made her way towards the tent next to where hers had been. It had only been partly damaged.
She was a nurse and people needed her help. She would mourn for Maura later.
Now what did Doctor Hallam say about burn injuries?
Tears running down her blackened face, Zilla entered the tent and began to look around for smaha ointment, bandages and clean water.
* * * * *
Danal
“Remember, Danal of Vadath,” said Chizu, holding Danal’s gaze, his eyes gleaming. “Good will come of this evil. Live, live in peace and joy and harmony. I wish you happiness. Do not fail me.”
Danal and Asya watched Tala and Chizu fly away.
The two of them
stood unmoving for a long time after the golden flyer had disappeared over the horizon.
* * * * *
Niaill
The Larg advance stopped, all at once.
A crescendo of anguished howling filled the air.
Taraya staggered and fell to her knees and Niaill all but passed out.
The mind of every Lind and every vadeln-paired human was hit by such a surge of anguished emotions as to incapacitate them completely, which would have been disastrous for Julia and Alyei’s army except that every Larg was in the same state.
“What is happening?” Niaill heard his voice ask as the pain inside his mind subsided enough to be replaced by a feeling of loss.
He was only marginally aware of the fiery battle in the skies as objects dropped from the Lai burst on top of the Quorko. Some of the ships were damaged. On three their engines began to stutter and black smoke was belching out. The Lai were diving and the undamaged Quorko lifted their bows to meet the unexpected challenge.
: The Dglai have turned on the families the kohorts left behind : Taraya managed to say.
: So that is why there are only ten Quorko here :
: The other fifteen are gathering in the Larg eln and lin and are driving them towards the Ammokko. Many are dead :
Niaill had an outside in headaches but he managed to make himself concentrate. His eyes focused on the Larg.
Every one of them was standing motionless. They were growling. Their heads were raised towards the skies above. Niaill and Taraya followed their gaze.
The Lai were engaged in a wheeling, turning, fiery fight with the Quorko, using their greater aerial agility to get as close as possible and breathing great gouts of flame at them.
The Quorko were trying to extricate themselves.