Tomorrow I’ll be flying north where I expect to find another city fallen to the White. Meaning it won’t be long before it has sufficient strength to invade Varestia. Urgency is required, Mr. Torcreek.
I’m aware. As for the White’s gathering strength, I’ve been thinking about that. It uses a Blue crystal to change folk into Spoiled. Destroy or steal that and its army ain’t growing any bigger.
Meaning it’s sure to be well-guarded.
Didn’t say it would be easy.
Point taken. Trance again when you reach the mountains. And if you should feel the urge to try this convergence product, make sure your ancient friend drinks it first.
Mr. Lockbar arrived the next day aboard a bulky freighter with instructions to take delivery of the first consignment of weapons. The hard mask of his face betrayed little emotion when Lizanne met him on the wharf to advise two ships would be required to carry the full load. “You have ships at anchor here,” he said. “Assign one of them.”
“Ships require crews,” Lizanne replied. “And that would denude our work-force.”
“Then tell the rest to work harder. If they need any encouragement we can always cut the food supplies.” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead producing a sealed envelope and handing it to her. “The Board has convened a council of war at the Seven Walls. It meets in twelve days. Your attendance is requested.”
“Requested?”
Lockbar met her gaze, blinked once and turned away. “I’ll expect the second ship to be fully loaded and ready to sail with the morning tide.”
“They’re going to kill you, you know,” Morva said.
Lizanne glanced back from the control panel with a raised eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Morva insisted. “Arshav and Ethilda don’t share. Now your people are delivering weapons they’ll see it as the perfect time to get rid of you. When you go to this war council of theirs they’ll either come up with a convenient lie justifying your execution, or they’ll arrange an accident. Then the Mount Works and all the weapons will be theirs.”
“How shocking,” Lizanne observed, turning back to the control panel. She eased the pitch lever to port as a gust of wind pushed the Firefly’s nose a few points east of due north. “What terrible people your relatives are.”
“You knew,” Morva said after a short silence.
“I suspected. I find when dealing with people like your cousins it’s best to maintain a healthy paranoia.”
“Oh. Will you kill them first then?”
“One of the first lessons I was taught regarding strategy, and your lesson for the day: Never tell anyone your thoughts.”
Tekela stirred in the right-hand pilot’s seat, coming awake with a groan. “You let me sleep too long,” she muttered, frowning in groggy discomfort as she tapped the clock, which showed four hours past midnight.
“You needed to rest,” Lizanne said, relinquishing control of the aerostat as Tekela gripped the lever and settled her feet onto the pedals. Her natural affinity for piloting this machine was evident in the way it seemed to calm at her touch like a horse responding to a familiar rider. The buffeting that had made the gondola thrum faded into a faint vibration and the slight see-saw action of the compass-needle was replaced by a near-perfect stability.
“We’re ten miles due south of Subarisk,” Lizanne said. She unbuckled from the pilot’s seat and moved to the rear of the gondola to peer at the glass viewport Jermayah had set into the floor. Depressing the second button on the Spider, she scanned the ocean passing below, seeing no sign of any patrolling Blue packs.
“Green,” she instructed Morva. “I need you to be our eyes whilst I’m in the trance.”
Morva nodded and pressed the appropriate button on her own Spider. Jermayah had made new devices for all the Blood-blessed at the Mount Works, an improved design which cut down on the weight and added a quick-release catch for swift removal. Lizanne injected a small amount of Blue, sinking into the trance where Sofiya waited in her fairy-tale forest.
The starting point is clear, Lizanne reported. We’ll hover here then track your progress when the Viable commences the attack.
Acknowledged, Sofiya responded. The trance connection faded almost immediately but not before Lizanne had the opportunity to note that the sky above the forest had taken on a strangely reddish hue, the clouds frozen like a painting of sunset. Lizanne found herself unable to decide if this was a good or a bad sign regarding Sofiya’s mental stability. Sunset means the onset of night, she thought. But also the promise of a new day.
She blinked and found herself back in the gondola, finding to her annoyance that Morva was peering through the starboard port-hole rather than observing the sea below. Her rebuke died, however, when Morva said, “There’s something out there.”
Lizanne moved swiftly to her side, peering at the darkened sky beyond the port-hole. The cloud-cover was intermittent at this height, slipping by like wisps of powdered silver and growing into an obscuring fog farther out. A short scan of the sky with her Green-enhanced sight revealed nothing.
“Drake?” she asked Morva.
“It was hard to make out, and gone in an instant. It was there,” she added in response to Lizanne’s frown.
“Stand by at the ignition tube,” she said, reaching to retrieve her Smoker before returning her gaze to the port-hole. “Light the blood-burner on my order. Tekela, increase height by five hundred feet then begin to circle.”
Lizanne levered a round into the Smoker’s chamber then opened the starboard hatch. She was obliged to don a pair of welder’s goggles before leaning out into the icy chill, eyes roaming the sky. The clouds thinned as Tekela brought the Firefly higher, becoming a patchy blanket through which she could see the light of two moons glittering on the ocean. The aerostat tilted as Tekela began to turn, Lizanne gripping the handhold above the hatch and leaning out yet farther, still finding no sign . . .
It was the snap of the beast’s wings that saved her, reaching her ears barely a second before it attacked and giving her enough time to lurch back from the hatch. The Red’s jaws thrust through the opening and came together less than six inches from Lizanne’s flailing foot. The Firefly shuddered and went into a spiralling descent as the Red latched its claws onto the gondola’s hull. Lizanne had time to register the fact that it was the largest Red she had ever seen, matching the size of an adult Black. Its eyes were bright with hate above the snout, jaws widening and throat rattling as it summoned its flames.
The continuing spin forced Lizanne to clamp a hand to the support strut as she aimed the Smoker one-handed at the beast’s eyes and fired. Blood and scales erupted as the explosive round impacted, the snout vanishing from the hatch. From outside came a shrieking roar of pain and rage, followed by a chorus of answering shrieks. There’s more than one, Lizanne concluded.
Hearing a pained exclamation from the pilot’s seat, she rushed forward, finding Tekela clamping a gloved hand on her neck. “Let me see,” she said, pulling the hand away to reveal the blackish, reddened welt of un-Blessed skin subjected to undiluted drake blood. Lizanne reached for the satchel containing their reserves of product, extracting a vial of Green and emptying the contents over the burn. Tekela let out a strangled yell, shuddering in her seat.