Her first rock went wide, bouncing off the side of the doorway. Eleri’s hit a hanging piece of glass, sending glittering fragments spraying dangerously. But the stone still struck the woman’s back, and she turned in time to receive a second barrage in the face.
Eluned had never done that before. Never thrown a rock or a punch, and seen blood, a visible hurt, as a result of her actions. She could blind this woman, this stranger, could scar her, even kill her. And all of Eluned backed away from that, from the permanency. From someone, somewhere, feeling about this woman the way Eluned had about Mother and Father, sent on prematurely to Annwn, and perhaps out of reach forever.
Bright anger lent her the will to throw another stone, to aim it, to put all her strength behind it. To perhaps not even cringe when it struck with a hollow watermelon noise, and the woman dropped.
“Good shot,” Eleri said. “Don’t think that will work on that bear thing.”
“If we distract it enough, the Huntress might be able to hold out until the pursuit arrives,” Eluned said. “Hurry—the brighter it gets, the more she’ll slow—ah!”
A shard of window had been blown loose by the increasing gale, slashing across her chin. She lifted her hand, and brought it away red, but then Eleri pushed her forcefully down, and they both covered their heads as all the remaining glass became horizontal hail.
“Not sure we could even get its attention over this,” Eleri said, lifting her head cautiously.
The entire gondola was rocking with the force of the gale, and when they crawled to the fore to peer into the clearing, twigs, leaves and grit pelted them. It was by far the worst windstorm Eluned had ever experienced.
“Any airships sent after us won’t be able to fly in this,” she said, and studied the sky, searching not for rescue, but something less welcome. And there they were, coming not from the direction of the wind, but flying into the gale. Lion-bodied, with the faces of women, and wings of blue and black.
They were larger than Eluned had expected. One of those had fit into Aunt Arianne’s room at Sheerside House?
There was no question of battle after the sphinxes dropped down. One simply landed on the bull-bear, with the precise ease of a house-cat trapping an ungainly mouse, holding it still under stony front paws. The roaring gale immediately slackened.
“Really are statues.”
“Really are big,” Eluned replied. “What now?”
“Not throwing rocks at those. Just watch.”
But the caracal, returning to human form, wasted no time turning toward them and beckoning imperatively. Eluned and Eleri were slow to respond, for neither of the sphinxes looked anything but welcoming, their tails lashing and their expressions hostile. Even so…
“How can we help, dama?” Eluned asked, trying not to goggle as a bullet slowly emerged from a wound in the Huntress’ shoulder, and fell to the ground. She wondered if the Huntress wanted to drink from them—the Thoth-den blood that had allowed her to survive the loss of her arm should have filtered from her system years ago, meaning the strains wouldn’t clash. Though the Thoth-den had said Eluned and Eleri had one of the rarer types of blood, that only vampires with the same type of blood could drink.
That did not seem to be the Huntress’s reason, anyway, as she walked briskly into the gondola, stepping over the fallen woman. Eluned had to pause and check that the shooter was alive, though, because if she had killed someone, she wanted to know as soon as possible. Finding steady breathing, she prudently picked up the woman’s gun, then surveyed the interior of the airship.
In three rough sections, with the pilot’s fittings and side-benches at the front, heavy storage in the centre, and a privacy cupboard and the engine housing to the rear, the entire gondola was strewn with leaves, lurking fragments of glass, and an unexpected wash of water. This was coming from one of three barrels in the central storage area, which had escaped stowage to fall on its side. The Huntress lifted it upright and finished the job of breaking open the lid, releasing a final gush of water. What remained was familiar purple crystals.
Three barrels, three fortunes in fulgite. And one crate that made Eleri and Eluned gasp when the Huntress lifted away its lid to reveal a black and chrome figure curled into a ball.
“Father’s automaton!” Eluned could hardly believe it, touching the domed skull.
“Proof.” Eleri’s voice was low. “Proof.”
A much smaller head rose on the far side of the crate, the painted monocle turned in their direction, blank and yet impossibly aware. The Huntress lifted the converted mannequin and placed it with great ceremony in Eleri’s hands, then carried the larger automaton outside.
“Do you think it’s talking to her?” Eluned whispered as they followed.
“Must have had a reason to bring it to the airfield. Expect she was one of the Huntresses watching Forest House.” Eleri regarded the automaton she carried dubiously, and then started as the two massive sphinxes each lowered their fronts to one knee, and bent their stern heads. “Have a bad feeling I know who this is.”
“Hatshepsu.”
Eluned, who had been hoping very much that Dem Makepeace would arrive, turned at his words, and was even better pleased that he’d brought Princess Leodhild and Princess Aerinndís with him.
“The obvious possibility, once we knew what fulgite was,” Princess Leodhild said. “Though I could wish it was not the case. What an appalling mess.” She nodded her head formally to Eleri’s burden, glanced at Eluned, and then produced a kerchief and pressed it to Eluned’s chin. “You two look like you’ve been dragged through an entire hedgerow backward.”
“You two need to be put on a leash,” Dem Makepeace added sourly, and handed Eluned a statue of Sulis holding up the sun. “Don’t leave things like this about the Great Forest. You’ll upset the balance.”
“He was worried,” Princess Leodhild confided. “Really though, this is quite the result. Will this solve both the Wrack and the windstorm issue?”
The Huntress had seated the large automaton on a fallen tree, and then gone back into the airship for the three barrels of fulgite, which she emptied unceremoniously in a pile at the automaton’s feet.
“They were keeping it in barrels of water?” Princess Leodhild said. “Why?” Then, when the two sphinxes—taking turns keeping the bull-bear pinned—paced forward and coughed up some more purple crystals, she stifled a chuckle and added: “Not quite laying it, Comfrey.”
“The water is a logical extrapolation.” Princess Aerinndís was watching the scene dispassionately. “Amon-Re, like Sulis, is aligned with sun and wind. This Wrack already knew to escape me by going underwater. If they had encountered the sphinxes, they would have searched for methods of concealment.”
The automaton seated imperiously in Eleri’s arms raised one hand, pointing, and after a moment’s hesitation Eleri walked forward and placed it on the larger one’s lap. They made a mismatched pair: the rather plain wooden mannequin, worn in places, with metal only visible at its joints, certain features—hands, feet, face—only suggestions. Whereas Father’s automaton had been primarily worked in metaclass="underline" much of it enamelled black, inset with panels of vivid chrome, every joint articulated, down to the tip of every finger and toe. And all of the enamel, every inch, decorated with the cloisonné arabesques that father had favoured in his work.
And yet there was a similarity, for Father had not attempted naturalistic features, but instead used the combination of enamel and chrome to add sharp relief to the planes of the face. The result was remote, but elegant as Father’s work always was.