“Where is Ghost?” Path demanded. Lapis huffed up, feeling out-of-shape, and Patch stopped next to her, gasping. They stood within the exit and took in the jumbled mess of a battle. A stray beam struck the dirt in front of them; the khentauree made a low-pitched, snarly growl and stamped her foot before backing up.
Lapis thought the glowing khentauree had reached the ship and used his sprites against it and the enemy reciprocated. But no. People from the Jiy camp fought against the Tridents and mercs, armed with tech, blades, and righteous fury. Flabbergasted disbelief sifted through her.
Why were they there?
Most of the battle had degenerated into melee combat, and considering the number of discarded tech weapons, they must have run out of power. Without it, the Tridents did not fare well against underground members more accustomed to using knives and swords during conflicts.
Chiddle caught them, and she did not imagine his chagrin or concern. Even without facial expressions, his stiffness and clenched hands expressed his annoyance, while his friend eschewed looking at him.
“Well, can’t miss the ship,” Patch said.
Lapis refused to admit that the large craft sitting just in front of the treeline escaped her attention; the more pressing danger of tech beams concerned her more. It looked like a clam, with slanted edges and a bulging middle. Shiny black sides reflected the first rays of dawn, with cyan-colored lights flashing a pattern around the center. Silver metal crisscrossed the surface, though it did not appear to create a pattern.
The combination of bumpy landscape and fighting people hid the bottom of it, so she could not tell whether those evacuating still carted things inside, or if they had finished and now prepared to leave.
Did it have larger weapons, like the Swifts? If so, it did not use them. Good. The Jiy contingent’s difficulties would increase several-fold if they faced a ship’s armaments, and Lapis did not see ready places to hide from such a strike.
Wind whipped past, cooling the sweat on her face, and Lapis shivered. Late Year Mountain winds at that time of morning held the promise of snow, and she disliked its touch. She pulled her coat tighter around her body, hoping the prying fingers of cold did not dig in and freeze her. She needed her muscles pliable for the upcoming fight.
A white glare from the left, too bright in the pre-sunrise dimness, caused fighters to shield their eyes.
“Ghost!” Path cried happily.
Chiddle snagged her arm before she took more than a step. “Fighting is not you.”
“No, but running is,” she snapped. “I can reach Ghost before you.”
“Incoming!” Patch shouted. They dispersed at the abrupt command as beams shattered the rock where they stood. Chiddle produced a metallic grating sound, so deep it vibrated Lapis’s chest.
She did not expect him to snag her waist. She squeaked as he whisked her into the air and settled her on Path’s back. “Stop Ghost,” he demanded.
“But—”
Path took off, and Lapis grabbed at her shoulders to keep her seat, sliding around due to the slickness of the metal. She ground her knees into the sides, but they did not keep her in place. Wincing, she pulled herself upright, surprised the action did not yank the mechanical being’s torso back. She clamped her arms around her waist, and held on with a fear-tight grip.
Glancing back, she did not see Patch. She imagined his fury, at Chiddle’s initiative.
The khentauree wove through the fighters, dancing away from awkward strikes and humming her disapproval at everyone who stepped in her way. She reared and decked some in the head for becoming an obstacle, and butted others, shocking their Jiy opponents. She waved at the fighters before clamping her arms around Path’s waist again, struggling to keep on her back.
A helmetless Trident leapt at them, using a long knife to attack. He snagged her pant leg, yanking to unseat her. She slipped, scrambling to dig her fingers into the sleek metal. Path reached around her waist and grabbed her left arm, keeping her in place. She dug her heel into the side for leverage, triggered her blade, and slashed down. He yelped as blood flowed from his scalp and down his cheek and chin. He stumbled back and Path helped him fall with a quick pivot and a hard kick to the chest. They continued, with the khentauree shying away from even more confrontations.
“Chiddle fights,” she explained as she headed up an incline, sounding conversational, if louder, to compensate for the noise. “His chassis is better, against weapons. Those built to be guards and miners, they were created to protect better.”
“But Sanna’s chassis broke.”
“Sanna was not a guard or a miner. Sanna was a courier, like me. We are fast and agile instead. Sometimes the owners used us to serve at functions. We were dainty and not threatening to guests, like other khentauree.”
Dainty?
Path’s ability to maneuver through the groups without interacting with them impressed Lapis, though the further they went into the melee, the more people stared, distracted by their passing. A shouted command caught her attention, and she noted a black-haired head above others—Faelan. Tridents surrounded him and his small group, though the enemy’s tech weapons remained on their backs, probably drained of energy.
Faelan. What in the Pit was he thinking, coming here?
“What is wrong?” Path asked.
“That’s my brother,” Lapis said, pointing. How had she known?
“Which one?”
“The tall one, black hair, he and his group surrounded by those Tridents.”
“We will help them.”
Path planted her left hoof and pirouetted into the new direction.
Lapis readied her blade as the khentauree raced through the crowd. The attackers did not turn before she slashed at whatever appendage was easiest to strike, cutting through cloth and flesh alike. Path paraded about them, avoiding hits with quick jumps and whirls. She compensated for a rider well; how much experience did she have with one? Nothing in the last couple hundred years, surely.
“Lanth!” Faelan yelled. She waved at him as those surrounding him took out the beleaguered Tridents.
“We’re saving Ghost,” she shouted before Path rose up on her hind legs and struck the last enemy in the temple with a front hoof. Despite his helmet, he went down at her brother’s feet and did not rise. The khentauree whirled and headed towards another burst of white light. “And don’t hurt the khentauree!” While the ones with the evacuation wanted to return to silence, she had doubts that Ghost and crew would appreciate the Jiy contingent taking them down without understanding the need.
Lapis struck every Trident she could reach as they dashed to the blinding glow, shocking fighters on both sides. Path made a happy burbling noise, and she wondered if the mechanical being comprehended the gravity of the battle. Their way of perceiving the world differed from humans, and perhaps their view of combat also diverged. They certainly did not think of death in the same manner.
They reached a contingent of Minq and Black Hats. Lapis recognized Tamor and Kayleb, who stared in horror at the unmoving bodies surrounding Ghost. He stood between them and the ship, though the Tridents kept him from closing in. Frantic people ran across the paved circle the craft sat on, carting armfuls of equipment and pushing carts, casting dread glances at the khentauree that interrupted their rush.
Path leapt through the Minq and Black Hats, who scattered at the unexpected appearance, then stamped her hoof. “Ghost!” she yelled, loud enough his head swiveled back to her. “You are not to be blown up,” she told him imperiously.
“Yeah!” Lapis agreed, raising her blade into the air.
“You did not wait for us,” Path continued, sounding quite pissed. “You left Chiddle behind. Chiddle is the fighter.”
“Path, you should not be here.” He, too, sounded pissed.
Lapis leaned around Path’s torso. “Neither should you,” she declared. She twisted around and focused on Tamor and Kayleb. “We have to stop the ship.”
Before anyone reacted to her declaration, screams erupted. The ramp leading to the ship shuddered and sucked back into the body. Those far enough up made it into the ship; the rest tumbled off and thumped onto the paved circle, cargo raining on them. The people left behind, who wore light jackets and button shirts tucked into poofy pants which provided no protection for a tech battle, raced below the belly, waving arms, shrieking. A blast of warmth from the craft knocked them to the ground, and it rose, the nearby trees shuddering under the pressure.
Ghost pointed.
Sprites whirled into view and shot towards their target.
The first few impacted the air a finger length above the ship’s hull and a flash of cyan erupted around them. They discorporated, but more formed around Ghost and followed their fellows. The wisps piled up; it took seconds for them to tear through the protections and slam into the stern’s hull, again and again. Dents, then cracks expanded away from the hits, and huge metal pieces fell, to clatter onto the screaming people left behind.
They ducked, covered their heads with their arms, and mindlessly ran through the enemy or headed into the surrounding trees.
The ship cleared the tips of the evergreens, wobbly. An explosion came from the exposed area, and heavy smoke billowed up as it careened towards the north.
“The Pit,” Tamor breathed, filming everything. Was this why the Minq sent him out and about? Lapis supposed for documentation purposes, it worked better than stopping in the middle of a battle and scribbling everything down.
“Where are the khentauree?” Path demanded, studying the area.
Ghost did not reply, simply took off in the crash’s direction.
“Ghost!” Path screamed, the word amplified enough Lapis winced. How loud could they yell? The khentauree lurched forward; she clutched her waist as she tore through the gasping, crying non-fighters, jumping over unconscious bodies and shattered cargo containers. If she had not trained in riding horses, she would not have kept her seat.
She stretched her arm out and let the handle to her blade go; it snicked into her gauntlet just as they reached the treeline. She slid her arm around her torso and grasped her other hand, clenching them together.
No stray twig or thick branch swayed Path. Lapis winced at every stinging strike against her legs and arms, but it could have been worse; Ghost cleared a credible way, and tree and bush debris littered the trail he took. Those sprites were nasty and handy, all in one. The khentauree hummed, upset, and her speed increased.
The deep, ominous cracking of wood reverberated between the trunks. Smoke filled the canopy and filtered lower, but the greyness of dawn, combined with the shadows of the forest, made distinguishing anything else impossible.
Path jumped.
They reached the first trees knocked down by the ship. Branches and severed tops stuck out in all directions, though the khentauree did not avoid them as much as leap over them like a deer, jarring Lapis’s grip to the point she slipped. Her stomach rose to her throat at the height they attained; she did not want to fall when they were half a tree in the air.
The demolished foliage led the way. Lapis yanked her collar up and covered her nose and mouth; the stench of smoke mingled with the odor she associated with the khentauree spheres, a stomach-churning smell. She noted Ghost, a dim glow through the grey haze, and Path caught him before they reached the crash site. Equally annoyed buzzing erupted from them, but no words—at least that she could hear. From their arm and hand movements, she assumed that they yelled at each other, and neither gave in.
She appreciated Jhor’s exasperation at Sanna’s stubbornness.
Navigating the crash length and thick haze took longer than Lapis anticipated. When they reached the black metal craft, they had to avoid people racing from it, some injured and bleeding, who hobbled as fast as they could. As far as she could tell, it rested at a severe tilt, the front dug into the earth, fallen trees littering its surface. The ramp had deployed and people rushed down it, though it stopped high enough they had to jump to reach the ground. How many had squeezed inside? It did not look large enough to carry the thirty-odd people she counted, with more escaping.
Seven surviving Tridents ringed it, weapons drawn, while others fled. The flicks from the blaze in the hull grew while a few brave souls sprayed some sort of white, foamy stuff at it. The hoses attached to bulky black containers positioned far enough from the flames, they strained to reach the target.
Why had they not run? The ship was a loss, and she doubted they cared much about the forest surrounding it burning to a crisp.
Path smooshed into Ghost, trapping Lapis’s leg between them. She winced as the sprites whirled into view and the beams reflected off the glowing shield they created, bouncing into already battered trees and sending bits of wood and pine needles flying.
“They are trying to escape with them,” Ghost said. His anger shivered through Lapis, and she admitted her gratitude that he did not direct it at her.
“Escape? How?”
“Other ships.”
Like smaller Swifts?
“But they resist, and the people are impatient and want to leave.”
The sprites whirled about them, gaining speed, before plowing into the Tridents. They targeted weapons first, and the men shouted and swatted and failed to rebuff the attack.
Chiddle arrived, Patch astride. Lapis raised an eyebrow, then regretted even looking at him; his fury matched what she sensed in the mechanical beings, and she grumbled about the heated discussion that would follow concerning her taking off with Path. As if she had a choice. Chiddle put her on her back, and they did as he asked, catching up to Ghost, even if they failed to stop his rush to the crash site.
And the khentauree preferred to bitch at each other while still running towards danger. Her partner should appreciate that.
The top of the ship opened; four Swifts, large enough for maybe two passengers, rose from the wreckage. One bungled into the treetops due to the tilt and went down, but the other three dashed up and shot random beams at them while maneuvering to point towards the brightening dawn.
“Dammit,” Patch hissed. He ineffectively fired at them; weapons popped up and targeted them. Path fell to her knees and flattened her torso against the ground, and Lapis slid off her and laid, prone, in the soft dirt and across a couple of jutting roots. Chiddle stepped behind broken tree cover, while Ghost paraded into the open.
He sent his sprites coursing through the air while beams bounced ineffectively off his protections, but they evaporated before they reached the departing crafts. The Swifts shot away, skimming the treetops, and the canopy quickly hid them from view.
The people subduing the fire shouted, and all still able scrambled down the carved path.
“The khentauree will go to silence,” Ghost said.
“They’re still on board?” Patch asked, frowning.
“They will stay with the ship,” Ghost said. “They will go to silence, and we will return them to the flowers. It is what they want.”
“But . . .” Her partner looked at her.
“They take silence very seriously,” she whispered.
They attempted to run down the tree-strewn way after the Meergevens, but Lapis’s left leg, the one trapped between the two metal bodies, gave out. Patch scooped her up, and Path snagged him. They made it behind the toppled remains of treetops before the khentauree forced them to the ground, and Ghost planted himself over them. The explosion deafened Lapis, and she clapped her hands over her ears.
“I couldn’t tell, how many people were still inside,” Patch said, watching debris bounce off Ghost’s protections, spin, and land in the dirt surrounding them.
“The khentauree did not say,” Ghost murmured.
“Let them rot,” Chiddle said, monotone, unemotional, which emphasized his hate more than anger.
“We need to put out the fire and go through what’s left, but I have a feeling the info we wanted is on those Swifts.” Patch glanced at her, his patch lights spinning a death circle inward. Another enemy had risen, one carrying the potential to do more brutal damage to Jilvayna than the Dentherions.
“Yes,” Ghost said, a disheartened sigh accompanying the word.
