The Red’s vision of the pass sprang into more vivid life, focusing on a particular figure standing at the cliff-edge. Thanks to the power of drake sight they were soon confronted with a close-up view of the figure’s features. Lizanne Lethridge stared back at them through the Red’s eyes, a smile of grim mockery on her lips. She moved slightly and the image refocused, drawing back to reveal the sight of her raising a carbine to her shoulder. The muzzle flared in a bright orange plume and the vision went black. The absence of the usual confusion and pain indicated the Red had died instantly.
“Bitch,” Catheline breathed in a tone of hungry malice. Her gaze flashed at Sirus and Morradin, the red pupils seeming to glow like coals. “Get in there! Send all of them!”
Her will was implacable and shot through with the White’s irresistible blood-lust. Every Red leapt into the sky as the Spoiled battalions started forward. The Greens charged in two huge packs on the flanks, every mind, Spoiled and drake, filled with a single purpose: KILL HER!
CHAPTER 39
Lizanne
The Smoker jerked against her shoulder as she unleashed the Redball. It impacted at the base of the Red’s neck, the explosion instantly severing it from the body. The rest of the fighters, all armed with Smokers, opened fire on the other Reds. The hail of explosive bullets felled one immediately, but it took several more shots before they brought down the other, the bullets chasing it across the sky until one of the Varestians managed a hit on its chest.
Lizanne watched the stricken creature spiral down into the misty depths of the Grand Cut then turned her gaze to the north. She found that the fog, mingled with the drifting smoke from their intentionally abortive attempt to block the pass, made it difficult to gauge the reaction of the White’s army. She injected a small amount of product to enhance her vision and was soon rewarded with the sight of a multitude of Green drakes streaming towards the Cut. Following close behind were the Spoiled, their previously neat ranks forgotten now as they charged across the plain in a disorderly mob thousands strong. Shifting her gaze upwards, she saw the fast-approaching shapes of more Reds than could easily be counted.
In addition to the Blood-blessed contingent there were about two hundred Varestian fighters, mostly of a piratical nature judging by their clothing and abundance of knives. They were all volunteers who had been dropped on the lower south-facing slopes by aerostat the day before.
“They’re coming,” she told them. “Remember your orders, fire and retreat. We need to draw them in.”
The Varestians immediately ran off to occupy their positions deeper in the pass, the group on the other side of the dividing chasm following suit, leaving the Blood-blessed to face the first rush of Reds. Lizanne injected a short burst of Blue and slipped into the trance where Morva was waiting on the deck of the antique sailing-ship that formed her mindscape.
“It worked,” Lizanne told her. “Tell Tekela to commence her run.”
She ended the trance without waiting for a reply and moved back from the cliff-edge. “Product!” Lizanne ordered the other Blood-blessed, depressing the first three buttons on her Spider. “Full doses! No need to skimp here. Every one we kill today is one we don’t have to kill tomorrow.”
She moved to crouch behind a near by boulder, the other Blood-blessed also finding cover in the surrounding rocks. Lizanne rested the Smoker’s forestock on the top of the boulder, pointing it at the sky, and slotted another Redball into the glass receptacle atop the chamber. She waited, veins thrumming with product and eyes fixed on the Smoker’s sights. She heard the Reds before she saw them, their shrill cries echoing up the mountain side in a hungry chorus. She lit the Redball the instant a dark silhouette slipped into her sights, blasting it apart as a cacophony of carbine fire erupted all around.
Lizanne stood up, seeing a dozen Reds falling out of the sky as the explosive rounds took their toll. Seeing a Red twisting amidst the barrage she tracked it with the Smoker, sights aimed just in front of its nose to compensate for the distance, and fired three rounds in quick succession, the carbine’s lever blurring as she worked it. Mortally wounded by the trio of large holes punched into its hide, the Red let out a stream of impotent flame before slamming into the cliff-face below.
A warning shout from one of her fellow Blood-blessed had Lizanne leaping away, Green-enhanced limbs carrying her wide of the stream of fire cast at her by a diving Red. It reared back, wings fanning the air and neck coiling for another try. A salvo of rounds from the surrounding Blood-blessed tore one of its wings away and left a gaping hole in its chest, leaving it a bloody tangle clinging feebly to the cliff-edge before sliding into the Grand Cut.
Casting a glance skyward, Lizanne saw that the Reds had been forced higher by the fire of the Smokers and were now circling in a huge spiral. Seeing them begin to cluster together in groups of five or more, Lizanne knew that the defenders were about to be subjected to a massed onslaught from above. No amount of explosive bullets could hope to stem such a weight of drake flesh.
“Pull back!” she shouted, moving across the rocky ground in an unnaturally fast, leaping sprint.
Seeing their prey attempting an escape, the Reds let out a collective scream of fury and gave chase. Hearing the beat of large wings at her back, Lizanne leapt and pivoted in midair, aiming the Smoker one-handed at the head of the pursuing Red. Thanks to the reflex-enhancing effects of Green she was able to put a bullet in its eye before whirling about for a landing.
She didn’t pause as her boots met rock, propelling herself on and refreshing her diminishing Green with the Spider. A scream sounded behind her, human rather than drake, brief and full of agony before it choked off. Lizanne didn’t turn to see the inevitable grisly spectacle. She had entertained a faint hope of completing this mission without casualties, but knew it to be an indulgent self-delusion designed to assuage the guilt of commanding others in battle.
Upon reaching a point halfway along the pass she leapt atop a tall boulder and came to a halt, turning to face the Reds. The other Blood-blessed all rushed to pre-chosen spots and did the same, all Smokers raised and aimed as the Reds closed. Here the pass constricted to its narrowest point and was overlooked by ledges on the mountains rising on both sides, ledges where their pirate allies now waited, Smokers tracking the Reds streaming into their sights.
Over two hundred carbines began firing at once, blasting at least thirty Reds out of the sky. Lizanne aimed at the densest concentration of drakes and emptied her Smoker, hand once again blurring on the lever and cartridges spinning away in a brass cascade. The Blood-blessed had all been trained in the same technique, meaning the Reds found themselves charging into an impassible wall of bullets. The mass of drakes reared back from the fusillade, resembling a huge swarm of hornets retreating from a flaming torch.
“Reload!” Lizanne ordered, jumping down from the boulder and slotting fresh bullets into her Smoker from the bandolier about her chest. Her gaze was fixed on the southern end of the pass, the sun now risen high enough to burn off much of the mist. For a second she thought Morva had failed to pass on the order but then saw the curved wedge of the Typhoon’s envelope cresting the mountain side. She rose swiftly with the Tempest close alongside, the two aerostats drifting forward as they ascended. They stalled their ascent about eight hundred feet above, the Tempest letting loose with her Thumpers whilst the Typhoon unleashed a hail of bullets from her Growlers.