‘Specialist Lestra, it’s been an honour serving with you. Take my Eagle and get as far away as possible.’
‘With all due respect, ma’am-’
‘That was an order, Specialist!’
‘Rowena,’ spat Fallon, ‘you can take this martyr shit and stick it up-’
The COC’s elevator door squealed open. ‘Oi! You lot!’ yelled Clara. ‘It’s the Wind! She’s here!’
Drimmon lowered the cargo ramp. Only a lunatic would attempt what he was doing. Fitz would have his balls.
‘Come on! Come on!’
He used the Schiehallion to shield the Liberty Wind from the lightning attack, hovering beneath her. His fingers jammed the flight control and hammered the Bride’s Code dials and set it to auto-repeat.
‘Eiro above, I hope this works.’
He guided the first trooper down, unhooked him from his rope and told him to help with the others. This is insane!
His own harness cut into his body as the wind whipped the airship from side to side.
The next airman came into view—an apocalyptic boom resounded, jolting the Schiehallion. The ascending soldier’s rope yanked to the side, the force severing it and sending him plummeting. Drimmon watched him disappear into the sandstorm caused by the Wind’s rotors.
Another pair of boots landed on the cargo ramp, and another. ‘Secure yourselves!’ Drimmon shouted. ‘Hey, you seen Clara-’
The Wind quaked and Drimmon fell on his face. He rolled and tumbled along the ramp, the rope connecting his harness growing taut.
He swung over the edge of the ramp, suspended in the air, the wind jostling him.
Terror froze him. All he could think about was Ena.
Then the threads of his rope began to snap.
‘Go!’ Lockwood shoved Lestra through the hatch, cold air rushing up. ‘You next, Major!’
‘What’s with you captains and your obsession with goin’ down with your ship? She ain’t even pretty!’
Lockwood hooked Fallon to the rope. ‘The Schiehallion is not going down—she’s going up.’ Fallon disappeared. He was the last person. There could be dozens more around the warship, but time had run out. A good commander knew when to cut her losses.
From the chain around her neck, she produced a key. The weapons aboard were experimental—aside from Thackeray, she was the only one who knew about them. No shuttles but plenty of bombs.
She put the key into the slot and twisted.
‘Self-destruct sequence initiated. Five minutes until destruction. All personnel are warned to vacate the ship. Repeat: Self-destruct sequence initiated.’
Drimmon couldn’t hear his own voice as he begged for help. Flickers of lightning lit the sky. He could only stare at the fraying edge of the rope. With every second, he felt the ground creep closer.
His heart filled his throat.
Gravity pulled him.
Gods, Ena, I am so sorr-
Two sets of hands yanked him up. His fingers clung to the edge of the ramp, just as the rope snapped.
‘Up you get, lad!’ The wind muffled Clara’s voice. She and the bloke with the eye patch hauled him over the edge.
Lockwood swung down, cutting her rope away with a knife clenched between her teeth. ‘Raise the cargo ramp!’ she ordered. ‘Get us out of here!’
The Liberty Wind turned in the air, debris from the Schiehallion cracking her skyglass. Drimmon sat in Fitz’s old chair, Lestra in the co-pilot’s.
‘South!’ yelled Lockwood. ‘Less than one minute to get out of range!’
Drimmon’s fingers curled around the flight stick like a dead man clutching his last penny. Lightning chased the Wind as she cut through the air.
‘Brace!’
Something tugged the Wind. A fiery, orange light filled the sky.
Behind her, the Schiehallion erupted, leaving a towering mushroom cloud in her wake, finally destroying the Spire.
‘You have potential,’ Korvan said after Damien struck from the shadows again. ‘When I rummage through my toy box of human skulls in eons to come, I think I’ll play with yours the most.’
Enoch charged at Korvan. ‘You don’t have to live like this,’ Enoch spoke between strikes. ‘You can find redemption.’
Korvan wrapped his hands around Enoch’s neck and pinned him to the wall. ‘How’s it working out for you?’
‘Hatred,’ Enoch gargled, ‘is no compass with which to guide-’
‘Do shut up, Enoch.’ Korvan swung Enoch and slammed his head into the wall. ‘Were I not already dead, I fear you’d bore me into killing myself. Or you. Or a puppy. I am long past saving, brother, and glad of it. Not until I died, did I see the truth: Mankind is a virus—a sexually transmitted disease that propagates in spite of itself. The Orinul were right to take our free will!
‘And after I have extinguished all life—when every man, woman and child is drowning in their own blood—I will turn my gaze to the Gods and punish them for the crime of humanity! Then after that, I don’t know, probably the seaside for a bit.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Damien called from the shadows. Pain blunted his senses. He needed medical attention.
‘Pyron provides me with subjects for my studies. So many specimens! What of you, Disciple? Where do you believe a man’s humanity resides? The heart? The brain? The odd little bit on the ear?’
Damien struck Korvan and rolled away. ‘You’re Thackeray’s lapdog,’ he said, straining to keep the pain from his voice. ‘Pathetic.’
Korvan’s face stretched in anger. ‘How dare you say—actually, I don’t care.’
Metal rained down above them, twisting and bouncing from the girders and beams. The floor quaked.
‘Time runs low!’ Korvan boomed.
‘Where is the girl?’
‘Ah, there is power in her. Perhaps I’ll find it when I decorate this place with her organs?’
The walls shook and rumbled.
‘Some part of you… remains, Korvan.’ Enoch leaned against the wall. ‘As it does… in me.’
Korvan kicked Enoch in the stomach.
Damien leapt and swung to a new vantage point. Speed was the only edge he had over Korvan. Metal squealed somewhere high above him. Steel beams collapsed and ripped through the darkness.
They were beneath the Spire.
Heat… Ignium…
‘Bleach, fire,’ mused Korvan. ‘Perhaps I’m thinking about this the wrong way. Perhaps physical pain is not as destructive as other forms? This must be how tal Varaldo felt when he composed his seventh symphony!’ Korvan grabbed Enoch’s cheek like a besotted aunt with a baby. ‘But we have time, don’t we, poppet?’
Enoch fought back. He clobbered Korvan, stone fists smashing into his brother.
Korvan beamed. ‘About time! Give me pain! Make me remember what it was like to be alive!’
The ground tremored beneath Damien’s feet. Steel tubing crashed from the tall, shadowy recesses. Smoke and fire flowed like water high above them.
The Spire had fallen.
Korvan gripped a twisted metal rebar and battered Enoch with it. Enoch cowered beneath the blows—before his hand shot up and wrested it from Korvan. ‘I’m sorry for what I did to you.’
The acidic tang of igneus burned Damien’s nose and throat.
Somewhere near, a pipe had come loose.
He darted across the long chamber. Agony sang in him with every movement. He flew into a kick, sending Korvan stumbling back, giving space for Enoch to pummel him.
‘Yes! Yes!’ cackled Korvan. He enjoyed it.
Good. In Damien’s experience, pleasure was the best distraction a target could have.
He drove his fists, spun away, kicked Korvan into a wall. Together, Damien and Enoch sent the monster reeling.
Korvan retaliated with unalloyed ferocity, clawing out at his opponents.
Damien numbed the pain reverberating through him. He brought his knee up to his chest and kicked out, pushing Korvan back, following up with
rapid punches to his chest.
Beneath the flowing igneus.
‘Weak! Weak!’ spat Korvan, rubbing his scarred, bone-white hands. ‘There is a special place in Hell for weaklings, Disciple! Right next to those who leave teabags in their cups.’
But Damien wasn’t trying to hurt Korvan—he was looking for his lighter.
‘Much obliged,’ he said, clasping it in his hand.
He flicked the lighter open and tossed it to Korvan.
He ignited.
Korvan’s screams switched between anguish and pleasure. His jittery movements threatened to set Damien’s clothes aflame, but he dodged and weaved out of the way, spinning behind the dead man.
‘Enoch! We have to get to higher ground!’
Enoch watched Korvan as he flailed along the tunnel towards the elevator shaft, voice searing, cackling. Any living person would have died by now. ‘It’s not enough.’ Enoch’s voice grated like steel on stone. ‘Thank you for saving me.’
Enoch’s mass charged past Damien; he pelted towards Korvan and latched onto him. Together, they leapt over the precipice of the elevator shaft and disappeared.
Chapter Forty-One
‘Belios! Near shot your head off!’ breathed Valentine. She had to shout to be heard above the destruction.
‘What happened to Confessor Cronin?’ Myriel didn’t sound concerned.
Gallows brushed past them without answering. He couldn’t think about what he’d done to Cronin—not yet. The bastard deserved to die, there was no arguing with that. But Gallows believed him when he’d said Sera died without pain. That would be as much comfort as he’d ever get.
A spiralling metal staircase stretched up into another circular tower. ‘We’re beneath the Spire!’ he called. Red alarm signals lined the walls.
Gallows took point, taking the stairs two at a time.
‘Any ideas what we’re gonna find up here?’ Valentine said, grimacing with pain. Blood still seeped from the wound in her leg.
‘No,’ Gallows replied.
‘Gotta say, I’d feel better if Damien was here.’
‘You’re welcome to wait!’ Gallows called. ‘Myriel, you holding up okay?’
‘Better than you, I should think!’
Their voices echoed within the metal shell. When he came to a grated platform, Gallows stopped for breath. ‘Serena can’t be fa-’
The metal panel fell away. ‘Whoa! Careful!’ he yelled.
Myriel stepped onto the platform—but as her foot left the staircase, it began to rattle and collapse.
‘Valentine!’ Myriel called. ‘I suggest you move your ass!’
Val appeared and—an instant before the staircase crumbled—leaped over the resulting gap.
Myriel helped her to her feet, and Valentine gave her thanks.
We’ll be lucky if we even reach Thackeray. Gallows looked ahead; another staircase lay ahead.
‘Hey, where do those stairs go?’ Valentine asked.
Gallows craned his head. ‘They go up.’
The ascent was no less arduous than the previous stairwell, but most of it remained intact. After ten minutes, they came to an antechamber. At the far end of a blood-red room, a glacier cage squatted, emanating white light.
Serena stood by its side, head hanging low, green hair tumbling around her.
‘Serena!’ yelled Myriel, running towards her.
‘Wait!’ Gallows called after her.
The mage didn’t listen. She hugged Serena, pulling her tight. ‘Are you alright, child?’
‘Where’s Thackeray?’ yelled Valentine.
Myriel turned on her. ‘Have some humanity! Can’t you see she’s in pain?’
Gallows wanted to find him too, but something made him stay still. Valentine didn’t move either. She looked at Gallows, hands running through her hair.
Myriel drew away from Serena, darting glances between the girl and Gallows.
A machine hummed and buzzed at the edge of the room. A control panel?
The Spire control. This is where Enfield tried to bring down the Liberty Wind.
Enfield. That Idari traitor. He was the real evil here. All of this had been because of him. Amberfire Night, the opera house, Zoven—Enfield was behind it all. Pyron Thackeray was just caught up in it. Hell, he was probably innoc-
‘Serena,’ said Gallows. Blood turned to ice in his veins.
She was in his head.
‘Serena!’ he said again, louder.
She stood there immobile.
Valentine hissed something but Gallows couldn’t make it out. Why was he here again? Nothing made sense. He fought to cling onto some belief—something that just a moment ago seemed so important. Why was he here?
Valentine.
She’d brought him here, on this crusade of hers. It was her fault—everything that had happened to Gallows was her fault. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword-
No!
‘Serena, stop. Please.’
Gallows’ heart hammered. Gods no. Not again.
But this was different from Cronin’s potion—from Nidra. This was more subtle—and stronger.
‘Serena!’ he called. Her eyes flicked to his.
He willed his feet to move, to take him closer. If he could just talk to her, just see-
But what if these thoughts weren’t his?
Valentine strode towards Gallows, flick-knife in her hand.
‘Val, wait! Wait!’
Myriel ran to Gallows, scowling. She clawed at his face.
‘Stop!’
Gallows shoved Myriel away. She howled things at him in a language he didn’t recognise.
Val’s knife whistled in the air, cutting Gallows’ forearm. She thrust for his heart—he batted her hand away and kicked her wounded leg, felling her.
She got back to her feet in an instant.
‘Val, stop! This ain’t you.’
She pounced on Gallows, tackling him to the ground. Her weapon hovered above his throat, teeth bearing down at him.
The knife inched closer.
Closer still.
‘Val. Listen to me. Listen! What you’re feeling ain’t real.’
‘You stopped me from saving Sturrock!’
‘You can beat this!’
The rage in her eyes dissipated for a moment—Gallows felt it himself, like a sheet lifting from his shoulders.
Serena was fighting back.
Whatever Thackeray had done to her, she was fighting back.
Gallows shoved Valentine off and kicked the knife from her hand.
‘It’s okay, Serena,’ he said, trying to sound calm. He walked towards her, Myriel paralysed at his side. ‘You can fight this. You can. I know it. There’s a part of you still in control. I know because it’s happened to me. Cling on to something—something you love. Something dear to you. Something only you-’
Gallows looked down.
The point of his knife pricked his wrist.
Cold fear seized him. He hadn’t even realised he was holding it.
‘Serena,’ he repeated. He took another step. ‘You can beat this. I promise you. Whatever potion or drug Thackeray put in you is nothing compared to your power. I know you can beat this—like I did. I promise. All you have to do is focus. All you have to do is hope.’
Serena’s face squirmed. Blood trailed from her nose.
Then the fog lifted again. She collapsed into a heap.
‘Gods… I… Gallows, I, I’m sorry. Thackeray, he…’
‘It’s okay,’ urged Gallows. ‘It’s okay.’
A crack split one of the walls. Metal clanged upon metal. ‘We gotta get out!’ yelled Valentine.
Myriel helped Serena to her feet. ‘Can you walk?’
‘I… I think so. Gods, Myriel, are you okay? What have I dragged you into?’
‘Don’t blame yourself, sweet girl. I met Father Talbot to secure passage from the skyport and he set Cronin on me—none of this is your fault.’
A valve i
n a dark corner erupted. ‘Thackeray,’ breathed Gallows, ‘is he here?’
‘He went through that door.’ Serena pointed to a hatch ahead.
‘I’ll take point.’ Valentine’s tone told Gallows there was no arguing.
As fast as they could, they exited the chamber, ground shaking every inch of the way. Wind hit them as soon as the hatch opened, dust and sand blowing over Gallows’ face.
They stood within the Spire, its upper quadrants hacked away.
The depthless, clear blue of the sky peered down on them.
‘Here!’ called Val. She ushered Myriel and Serena into a small personnel elevator. Gallows followed.
Wind whistled in the hollow tower as the elevator crawled up the interior. This side of the structure was secure, but Gallows didn’t much like being exposed this far above ground.
When it lurched to a halt, they rounded a corner.
‘We’re halfway up a Spire!’ Serena shouted, echoing his thoughts. ‘I hope you’ve got a way out!’
‘As it happens, there’s an airsh-’
And there, silver coat fluttering in the wind, checking his pocket watch, stood Pyron Thackeray.
He craned his head, stared at Serena. A look of profound disappointment crossed his face.
‘I was supposed to come here alone,’ said Serena. ‘After I made you guys…’
‘It’s over, Thackeray!’ yelled Gallows. ‘You’re done! You’re under arrest!’
‘Screw you, Gallows!’ spat Val. Without warning, she brandished the flick-knife and bounded towards Thackeray.
He shook his head and—with barely a glance—pulled a blade from his cane and cut Valentine once across the chest.
She cried in pain and fell on her back, blood pooling as her legs thrashed.
‘No!’ screamed Gallows.
Serena lifted a finger…
‘I… I can’t. I’m too-’
‘Weak and stupid,’ said Thackeray. Keeping the blade, he tossed his cane away and stood upright. From his coat, he pulled a revolver.
‘Get back!’
Gallows tackled Serena and Myriel to the floor as the first bullet flew his way. ‘Back! Back!’
Symphony of the Wind Page 66