“I will miss you, dearest General,” she said, pressing another kiss to his lips before rising and moving away. Dust rose and Sirus felt a hard gust of wind, seeing the White ascend into the sky with Catheline on its back. When they flew out of sight he continued to stare into an empty blue sky. He could feel the battle raging, share the sight of so many Spoiled compelled by the White to renew their assault and realised in a flare of guilt that he would actually miss being a general.
An inquisitive squawk caused him to slowly turn his head and he found himself looking into the eyes of a juvenile White, tongue darting over its bared teeth. It gave another squawk and hopped closer.
CHAPTER 52
Lizanne
The Hurricane exploded as they headed back to the Redoubt. There was no warning and it had been several minutes since a Red had even come close. A sudden burst of flame in the upper rear portion of her envelope followed by a booming thud as the whole structure blew apart, then she was gone, just more flaming debris falling into the sea.
“A Red must have lit a small fire earlier on,” Morva opined, face grim as she regarded the fast-fading wreckage. “Took awhile to spread.”
Lizanne refused to let her gaze linger on the sight, moving to the rear hatch as they neared the Redoubt. A quick survey of the battlefield made for unwelcome news. The second line of trenches had fallen and Spoiled and Green were mounting a fresh assault on the third. They were met by a blizzard of Growler and Thumper fire, the ground midway between the second and third trench lines becoming marked by a growing mound of dead. Lizanne discerned a lack of cohesion in the White’s forces now. The discipline and tactical organisation that had marked their previous assaults had been replaced by a seemingly desperate desire to charge straight at the human defenders, regardless of any weight of fire-power they now faced. However, Lizanne took only small comfort from the mounting enemy casualties. A brief glance to the west revealed substantial reinforcements trooping across the plain.
We must have killed close to half by now, she reasoned. But they have the blood to spend. We don’t.
At her order the Typhoon’s gunners expended what little ammunition they had left as they flew over the battlefield, aiming for the Spoiled rushing to join in the assault. It might buy the defenders some small respite. Tekela closed the throttles as they passed over the walls of the Redoubt, turning the aerostat around in preparation for landing.
“It’s flying,” she said, hands pausing on the controls as she peered through the front window.
Lizanne moved to her side, seeing the White ascending from the hill-top where it had perched for most of the battle. She turned her gaze to the sky, finding the large Black wheeling about over the plain. She quickly injected Blue and slipped into the trance, found no sign of Clay and slipped out again. What are you doing? she thought, eyes fixed on the Black as it continued a seemingly placid circular glide, apparently oblivious of the White now dragging itself into the sky with broad sweeps of its huge wings.
“Get us down,” she told Tekela. “We need to rearm.”
Upon landing she ordered fresh Swarmers loaded and went to find Arberus. He was engaged in directing the fire of cannon on the western end of the walls, attempting to impede the advance of the mass of Spoiled closing in on the outer trench line. The cannon scored hits with every shell fired, it being impossible to miss, but the Spoiled swept on below undaunted. Lizanne noticed again how all order had apparently been forgotten and they appeared possessed by nothing more than an unreasoning desire to throw themselves at the human line.
“Can you hold them?” she asked, coming to Arberus’s side.
One look at the grim resignation on his face was sufficient answer. “When the ships resumed their bombardment, I thought we might have a chance,” he said, nodding at the sea. “But now . . .”
Lizanne turned, seeing that the Reds had resumed their attack on the fleet. Their strength had been eroded in the first assault but, judging from the number of burning ships, they were still capable of inflicting substantial damage.
“Is there anything you can do?” she said. They both knew evacuation was now impossible, and there was no line of retreat from this place.
“I can pull what’s left into the Redoubt,” he said. “Since the enemy seems to have abandoned all rational tactics, it might buy us time.”
Lizanne shifted her gaze to the sky above the plain. The White was still flying towards the gently circling Black. At least I know where it’s going, she thought. “Do it,” she said, turning and running back towards the courtyard. She drew up short, however, at the sight of the Firefly taking off. The small aerostat drifted towards the walls before revving up its engines and flying away. Lizanne stared after it, quickly discerning that it was headed for the hill-top where the White had perched. Turning back to the courtyard, she saw Morva raising her arms in a helpless shrug.
“She took off before I could stop her!” she called up to Lizanne.
Tekela! Lizanne realised, gaze snapping back to the Firefly as it flew an unerring course towards the hill-top. Gone to keep her promise.
“Get on board!” she shouted, running to the Typhoon and clambering into the gondola. She flung herself into the pilot’s seat, restarting the engines and pulling back the levers to angle them towards the ground.
“We’ve only loaded half the Swarmers,” Morva protested as they took off. “And the gunners aren’t aboard.”
“No time,” Lizanne told her. “Stand ready at the ignition tube.”
She brought the Typhoon to three hundred feet, angling the prow at the now-distant silhouette of the Firefly before calling out for Morva to ignite the blood-burner. The ground blurred below as the Typhoon shot forward, Lizanne opening the throttle as wide as it would go. They had closed half the distance to the other aerostat when she saw a trio of Reds diving towards it. Lizanne looked out of the port window, seeing the White pass by in the opposite direction. Craning her neck farther she saw the huge Black finally respond to the danger, abandoning its serene glide to angle itself towards the White.
You already made your choice, Lizanne told herself, turning back to the Firefly. There was nothing she could do to prevent whatever was about to befall Claydon Torcreek, but she could still save Tekela.
The three Reds were less than fifty yards from the Firefly now. Tekela had evidently spotted the danger and put the aerostat into a sharp turn. As the drakes veered towards it they passed directly in front of the Typhoon. The range was fast diminishing thanks to their speed, bringing the Reds close enough for Lizanne to try her luck with the forward-facing guns. The first two flew through the bullet stream unscathed but she had the satisfaction of seeing the third twist in a spiral of blood, wings flailing as it plummeted down.
“Hold on!” she called out, hitting the switch that took the blood-burner off-line then reversing the angle of the port engine. The Typhoon hadn’t been designed for such sharp manoeuvring, the entire craft letting out a metallic howl of protest and shuddering as she wheeled about, bringing the Reds back into Lizanne’s sights. She blew the second Red out of the sky with a concentrated burst, then adjusted the craft’s angle to take aim at the third. It was considerably larger than the average Red and made an easy target. Lizanne let the Typhoon settle and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.