Adrian Tchaikovsky - Dragonfly Falling

She spoke, her face full of confusion. ‘Where is this place? This is not Shon Aren.’ She saw him there, as though noticing for the first time. The sword in her hand seemed almost forgotten. ‘Mantis-kinden? Am I in Y’yen, then? But why?’ She approached him, quite without fear or hostile intent, and from the corner of his eye Tisamon saw the man who had watched them darting forwards,

Instantly his claw was in motion, bringing the stranger up short with the edge close to his throat. The strange woman merely watched without alarm or recognition.

A Spider-kinden, Tisamon saw — there had been far too many in his life recently. This specimen was a long-haired man of middle years, his hands empty, teeth bared above the blade that menaced him.

‘And who are you?’ Tisamon demanded. ‘Tell me quickly or I’ll have done with you. There are too few answers tonight.’

‘Oh, I know of your kind’s enmity towards mine,’ the man replied, as calmly as he could muster. ‘My name is Destrachis and I’m with this lady here, whose name is Felise Mienn.’

‘Destrachis!’ the woman exclaimed even as he said the name, although not with much love, and with no sign that she saw the claw at his throat. ‘What.?’

‘We are in Collegium, Felise,’ Destrachis explained carefully.

‘Yes, you are,’ Tisamon confirmed. ‘And someone had better explain to me exactly what we were fighting about.’

‘You. ’ She seemed to see him again and her eyes narrowed. Instantly his blade was away from Destrachis and he was falling back into his stance again.

‘I saw you with him,’ she said. ‘You must be one of his creatures. Tell me where he has gone.’

‘Where who has gone?’ Tisamon asked her

She spat back, ‘Thalric! Thalric the Wasp! Thalric of the Empire. Your master, is he not?’

‘He is not ,’ Tisamon said firmly. ‘He is my enemy, as he clearly must be yours. You seek his blood?’

She nodded, seeming more lucid now.

‘Then if I knew where he was bound I would tell you,’ he confirmed. ‘And this here is your creature, is he?’

She looked at Destrachis coolly, but it was a moment before she responded. ‘He. I was travelling with this man. He. Destrachis brought me here.’

Tisamon began to relax again, until he heard Arianna’s voice calling them. All three of them turned to her: a young Spider-kinden girl in a torn and muddied robe.

‘You really want to kill Thalric?’ she asked hopefully, and Felise nodded in a single sharp movement.

‘He will leave Collegium tonight,’ Arianna explained. ‘He is travelling to Vek.’

The name of that city meant nothing to Felise, it was clear, but Destrachis murmured, ‘West of here, along the coast.’

‘Then we, too, must go to Vek,’ Felise said. ‘We must go now. We could catch him on the road.’

‘Vek it is,’ Destrachis confirmed, somewhat wearily, casting a cautious glance at Tisamon. ‘All right if we make our exit? Despite what just happened, we’re really not your enemies, honestly.’

‘I see that,’ Tisamon folded his claw back along the line of his arm.

‘I’ve seen her fighting a few times, now,’ Destrachis said, ‘and I’ve never seen anyone walk away from it.’

‘It was a pleasure and an honour.’ Tisamon stared at Felise thoughtfully. It was as if the woman he had been fighting had been rubbed away, suddenly replaced by this confused foreigner, but to his surprise she turned and gave him a curt bow, bringing her sword, point lowered, up to her breastplate. It was a token of respect he often had used himself in the company of other Weaponsmasters, and he returned it with a slight smile.

Destrachis was already heading away and she followed him with a single backwards glance. Tisamon stared after her, and even as Arianna approached, he waited until the woman Felise was out of sight before he turned his attention to the Spider girl.

‘Please let me. ’ She had stopped out of his reach but. having seen him fight now, she knew how fast he could move. ‘I really do need to speak to — him. It’s about Thalric’s plans. Please take me to him. in chains if you must.’

He felt the fire of combat drain out of him, leaving him tired and bruised, more thoroughly exhausted than he had felt in a long time. There was no desperate need to kill within him, not now. It had been burned out of him during the fight with Felise Mienn.

‘Stenwold himself will decide what to do with you,’ he declared, and motioned for her to walk ahead of him.

The Ant-kinden shot all at once, the arms of their crossbows a vibrating blur with the force of the bolts let loose. Salma saw half a dozen men drop, mostly shot in the head or throat. Even with their targets lit up by the working lamps, it was a fine display of shooting.

Basila and her people were already moving. She took half her force forward with drawn swords, while the others spun the wheels of their crossbows to recock them. Salma had a moment’s hesitation before he went with them, catching them up with a flurry of his wings and diving at once into the fray.

Most of the men they fell on were Wasp-kinden artificers, unarmoured save for their working leathers, and some of their slaves. There was no time to distinguish or apply any mercy, though, and Salma knew that the Tarkesh had none to apply. Eight or nine utterly surprised men were caught unawares, cut down where they stood, and then two of the Ants were running on towards the nearest in the line of towering airships.

There was another hollow explosion from within the camp as Basila’s tactics of distraction continued. One man, a suicide from the moment he set out, was running through the tents of the Wasps and throwing grenades at random. Salma could only imagine the confusion.

Other Wasp soldiers were coming at them now. Most came running from the nearest rows of tents, unarmoured, some barely clad, but there were already some in the airships only now making themselves known. A second hail of crossbow bolts raked across the enemy approaching from behind, taking all but two from their feet. Salma turned to deal with those remaining two, who now hesitated, suddenly wrong-footed by their comrades’ demise. Giving them no time to react, he stabbed one through the throat and then planted his blade in the other’s bare chest. He glanced around for the Ant crossbowmen and saw them advance down the line of airships, loading as they did. Totho was still among them, he was glad to note, busy slotting another magazine into his repeating crossbow.

Basila and her few made quick work of the airship guards. One Ant-kinden was already shinning up the ropes to the first gondola. For a moment Salma wondered why they didn’t just cut the cords and let the buoyant machines blow away with the wind, but when he caught Basila up he saw that the lines were twisted steel, three fingers thick and sunk who knew how deep into the ground. Destroying the gondolas themselves was the only option left to them.

An energy bolt crackled past him, signifying that there were more Wasp soldiers on their way. He flung himself into the air, almost by instinct, and met a Wasp coming the other way. Salma grappled with the man as the two of them spun in the air before stabbing the Wasp and letting him drop to the ground.

The Ant crossbowmen were loosing bolts again, but they were being rushed as they did so. Two or three of the Wasps went down, some shots went wild and shields took others. For a moment Salma swung in the air, torn between either helping Basila destroy the airships or aiding Totho. Then he was arrowing down, sword first. Totho had his own blade drawn, crouched low as a Wasp thrust at him with a spear. Salma landed on his feet behind the spearman, thrusting his blade straight into the man’s back. He met Totho’s eyes for a moment, and then the halfbreed artificer took up his crossbow again, and immediately Salma sprang into the air.