Dragon Airways

by Brian Rathbone

  * * *

  Sparrowport died in spectacular fashion under a heavy barrage. The force was excessive, far beyond what was needed to bring the town to its end, but it appeared the Zjhon had tired of the game.

  "They've just been playing with us," Brick said, tears streaming down his face while he reloaded the long gun.

  "You've fought well," Barabas said. "Every bit you've weakened them will increase the chance of survival for those farther inland. Your efforts have not been for nothing."

  Brick did not respond. Instead he sent another round of stone shot into the Zjhon fleet. Already he'd inflicted great damage. No matter how much they had prepared, the Zjhon had not been expecting this. What had been an orderly armada was now chaos. The ships that weren't sinking or too badly damaged to maneuver attempted to turn and sail to deeper water. Brick and those around him did everything possible to prevent that. Smoke rose from the sandbags on which the long gun rested, stone munitions heating the metal with every shot. Unavoidable friction pushed the barrel to its limits.

  "Slow down, lad," Joren said. "You're going to stress the metal too much. If that gun fails, it's likely to kill us all."

  "If not the gun, then it will be them," Brick said, pointing to the airplanes now soaring toward them, having dropped their payloads on the mostly empty town.

  Riette hadn't seen the children or those who'd been in the small field hospital at the end of town, and she feared for their lives. The planes coming toward them posed less of a threat now, but some had not had their turrets removed. Stone shot marched a line across the grassy soil and up the sandbags surrounding the mighty gun. Brick dived behind defensive structures created for that purpose. A moment later, U-jets screamed past, each one taking aim at where Brick lay. Dust filled the air along with Riette's screams. Her friend was the primary target, and the aircraft pummeled the spot where he hid.

  Wave after wave passed, not providing any break in the fire. One diesel prop approached with its heavy munitions still in place. Riette shouted in warning. Those who hid amid the sandbags and berms fled the area, knowing the power of even one of those bombs. Riette glanced over her shoulder while running toward a nearby copse of fir trees. Joren dug frantically amid the ruptured sandbags, looking for Brick. A moment later, his son emerged from a spot farther back. He grabbed his father and, despite his limp, did his best to pull the man to the place where Riette now hid. Blood and stone dust obscured most of his features, but he had never been more handsome or heroic.

  The bomb released with an audible click, and an instant later, the world exploded. When the smoke cleared, the long gun remained intact but now rested at the wrong angle.

  "Help me!" Brick cried, running back to the gun. No matter how valiant his heart, the flesh could endure only so much. Halfway across the field, his knees buckled. He was not alone in his bravery, though; others soon helped him, half carrying him back to the gun.

  Close to half the sandbags had been ruptured or completely blasted away. There was no way to rebuild the side that had been destroyed, no matter how hard they tried, the sand simply fell away.

  "Lower the far side," Joren shouted. "Take bags from the far side and use them to brace this side!"

  Brick orchestrated the deconstruction of the high side. "Don't take all the bags from one spot," he said. "I want the other side built up before this thing decides to move."

  As if to prove his words, the mighty gun barrel creaked and groaned while sliding into place. The sandbags held, but the whole arrangement was unstable. Riette sucked in a sharp breath when Brick lost his footing and slid into a gap between the gun barrel and the sandbags. If the enormous weight shifted while he was under there, he could be trapped or crushed. Grunting, he pulled himself free. As he did, he met Riette's eyes, and his face flushed. How he could be embarrassed by slipping while being the bravest person alive was beyond Riette's understanding. Men were unfathomable creatures. Twice more the gun came close to rolling over those trying to repair it. Only Berigor's quick reflexes kept Brick and several others from being crushed.

  Riette tended to the wounded. This at least gave her something to do besides watch her friends risk their lives. Some of the townspeople were beyond help, and she tried her best to concentrate on those her efforts might save. Even those who worked around her bore wounds of their own. It wasn't fair—any of it. They had done their best and given their all, and still evil had prevailed. The world made no sense.

  Again, the gun fired. No one dared hope it would be enough. It was a noble but futile effort to inflict damage on an enemy who had already won. When she looked back to where Dashiq rested, Emmet was climbing into the saddle behind Barabas. Tuck ran toward her, looking concerned. "We have to go! Now!"

  "I can't," Riette answered over her shoulder, no longer looking at him. She cared for Baker Millman, the man who'd always baked the best bread in Sparrowport. He'd been among the few people who were kind to her and Emmet, and she refused to let him die. "I need bandages," she said to Tuck, and he did his best to tear cloth into strips, all the while looking over his shoulder. Riette risked a peek, only to see Barabas and her brother about to fly away. "Go," she said.

  "No," Tuck said. "I'm not leaving you."

  He was not as big or strong as Brick, but Riette felt safer with Tuck by her side. No matter his strengths or weaknesses, he cared about her, and that meant something. Brick continued to fire into the fleet, hoping to leave the returning aircraft with no place to land. "I need more shot!" he shouted.

  "It's too much," Joren said.

  Brick ignored him and loaded the mighty gun, screaming as he burned himself on hot metal. When he released the pent-up air this time, Joren's fears came to pass. Rather than sending a projectile into the enemy fleet, the barrel had begun to droop under its own weight, and its tip shattered from the force. People fell and screams filled the air.

  Chaos ruled the field, and Riette realized then they should have been paying more attention to what was taking place behind them. Tuck made a choking sound, and Riette turned to see a Zjhon soldier take him down. An instant later, a hand closed over her mouth, stifling her scream. No matter how she kicked and fought, the stern-faced woman she'd seen on the Sparrowport airfield so long ago dragged her toward silent airships hovering above the trees. Within moments, a rope had been tied around Riette and she was hoisted in the air like nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Tuck was similarly tied and met her eyes while they were hauled upward.

  "I'm sorry."

  "No," Riette said. "I'm sorry."

  It was the last thing she said for some time. The woman climbed a rope ladder beside them, her heavy boot landing squarely on Riette's jaw.

  Darkness reigned.