Irisis moved up. Flangers climbed around Nish and followed. Even Yggur, beaten though he seemed, ascended half a dozen rungs. ‘Are you coming, Nish?’
Nish clung to the rope with one hand. His shirt was smeared with Ullii’s blood. ‘I can’t climb and carry her too.’
‘Pass her to me,’ said Flangers.
‘She’s my burden,’ Nish replied, looking down at her face. Ullii was at peace. ‘I’ll take my chances.’
Another bolt whipped through the rigging, clipping a rope in half and sending the severed ends dancing. The air-dreadnought lurched suddenly and jerked upwards. Irisis looked down. Someone had cut free the broken bow section of the other air-dreadnought, though its airbags were still tangled in the rigging of Ghorr’s machine, giving it extra lift at the expense of control. Two men were now sawing at the ropes from which the stern section was suspended.
‘No!’ she yelled, remembering the woman in the cabin with the two broken legs. You’ll be safe here , Irisis had told her.
The last ropes were severed and the stern section, still hanging vertically, fell towards the swamp. Irisis tried to console herself. Perhaps Ghorr had taken the injured off first, unlikely as that seemed. The stern section struck a tree, tearing off branches and smashing to pieces. Objects that looked like people fell out. Ghorr’s craft gave another lurch and lifted out of the mist into the light of the setting sun.
‘The bastard has managed it,’ said Nish. ‘After all he’s done, Ghorr is going to get away.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Klarm. ‘Here come the jackals.’
Irisis looked the way he was pointing. The surviving air-dreadnoughts, led by Fusshte’s brown-nosed craft, were heading in an arrowhead formation directly for them.
‘Faster, pilot!’ Ghorr cried in a cracked voice.
The sound of the rotors became more shrill, though the air-dreadnought went no faster. The drag from the tangled airbags meant that he could never outrun his pursuers.
‘Cut those airbags free,’ he shouted at his crew. ‘Then bring down the prisoners.’
Three men began to run up the rigging. The first airbag was released, then two more. The air-dreadnought leapt forward. One man headed for the fourth airbag, while the second and third angled across to where Nish and the others clung to the rope ladder.
Irisis was preparing to fight them bare-handed when, with a swoop and a whoosh, the thapter rose out of the swamp forest, wove expertly through the rigging and hovered next to the ladder. Two strong-armed guards lifted Nish, Ullii’s body and all, in through the hatch. They took Yggur next, the others followed and the thapter darted away. Nish went below. Yggur did too, aided by the guards.
Irisis stayed up top with Klarm and Flangers. ‘Perfect timing, Malien.’
‘It was sheer good luck,’ said Malien, ‘and it’s about time we had some of it. I came as soon as I could summon the strength. Twenty minutes ago I couldn’t even stand up.’
‘You arrived in time and that’s all that matters.’
‘It’s been an endless day; a day of continual reversals. But now I think we’re going to see the end of it.’
‘I hope so,’ said Klarm. ‘Though I wouldn’t put it past Ghorr to have one last ace up his sleeve.’
‘He no longer has a sleeve,’ said Flangers prosaically.
Malien circled out of range of the scrutators’ javelards, keeping a wary eye out for signs of activity at the crystal-powered mirrors, though so far there had been none. With spyglasses they watched the drama unfold. Ghorr’s air-dreadnought had risen slightly above the fleet, fleeing as quickly as its rattling rotors could take it, but Fusshte’s was steadily overhauling it.
‘He’s failed in front of all the scrutators,’ said Irisis. ‘Surely not even Ghorr can overcome such a reversal.’
‘Let’s just watch and see.’
Scrutator Fusshte’s crew manoeuvred his craft up beside Ghorr’s. His soldiers were arranged along the side, their crossbows and javelards pointing at the other vessel.
‘Would they shoot him down?’ said Flangers. ‘A chief scrutator?’
No one answered. Fusshte was seen to shout orders to Ghorr’s craft. Ghorr’s depleted crew were also spread along the sides, holding their weapons, though they did not point them in the direction of Fusshte’s air-dreadnought.
Ghorr’s craft jerked forward, making one last desperate attempt to get away. Smoke rose from the rotor mechanisms. Fusshte’s air-dreadnought matched his pace. More orders were shouted and, as far as Irisis could tell, ignored.
Fusshte called his captains to a brief conference, after which they hastened back to their troops. Fusshte’s pilot manoeuvred the vessel a fraction closer, and the men at the javelards pointed their weapons upwards and fired. Floater gas rushed out of one of Ghorr’s airbags, it collapsed, and the craft dropped sharply.
Ghorr’s operators worked the floater-gas generators but the vessel continued to lose altitude. Other air-dreadnoughts moved in to the sides and one shadowed him from below.
‘That’s it. It’s got to be the end,’ said Irisis.
Malien moved the thapter a little closer, the better to see.
Ghorr raised his arm and directed a fiery blast at his tormentor, but it fizzled out long before it reached him. Fusshte was laughing as he moved in for the kill.
‘He’s finished,’ said Irisis. ‘He’s lost his power.’
‘Ghorr’s a hyena,’ Klarm replied. ‘He could be trying to lure his enemy into range.’
Fusshte didn’t deign to reply to the attack, but his javelard operators shot out another of Ghorr’s airbags. Fusshte’s craft moved closer.
‘Is he planning to board Ghorr’s vessel in mid-air?’ said Flangers.
‘I don’t think that’s possible,’ said Malien. ‘I can’t tell what he’s up to.’
Ghorr, his hideousness now enveloped in a black cape, climbed onto the ladder above the rotors, as if to get a better shot at his enemy.
Yggur came up from below, wincing with every step. He’d cleaned himself up, washed the soot off and was wrapped in a blanket. His skin was swollen and blistered, both eyebrows had been singed off and the frizzy hair at his right temple was already beginning to crumble.
‘Ah, the endgame,’ Yggur said thickly, as if even his tongue was blistered.
‘What’s Ghorr holding?’ said Malien sharply.
‘Looks like his scrutator-magic belt,’ said Irisis. ‘Surely he can’t be planning to –’ She’d once seen an operator call power directly into his crystal, and the result had not been pretty. She couldn’t imagine the cataclysm if a master mancer did it with all his crystals at once.
‘I’d better move out of range, just in case,’ said Malien, and the thapter veered off sharply.
Fusshte must have recognised the danger, too, for his vessel also turned away, though slowly. Such huge craft were not capable of rapid manoeuvring. The other craft followed his lead. The one below Ghorr’s vessel went hard to port but Ghorr’s pilot matched the movement, dropping towards it.
‘Is Ghorr deliberately trying to crash into it?’ said Irisis.
No one answered. Fusshte shouted an order and one of his javelard operators fired a warning shot above Ghorr’s head.
At first it appeared as though Ghorr had tried to duck out of the way, but slipped and fell. Irisis clenched her fists as he plunged towards the swamp, thinking it was over. However, as soon as he was clear of his own craft, Ghorr flung out his cape, which formed a scalloped curve like a great batwing. He swooped one way, then the other, curved around in a circle and landed gently on top of the port airbag of the air-dreadnought below his own.
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