Scorpio Ablaze (eBook)

Chapter two

Held in the cunning two-handed Krozair grip the glittering longsword slashed left and right. Two Shanks had no time to scream, collapsing in green gore. Most of the length of the Krozair brand still glittered in the lights of the twin suns.

As more of the surprised Fish Faces fell under the merciless blows, the glitter changed to an ominous green patina. It was absolutely vital to keep moving, to strike economically despite the red roaring passion of revengeful blood. The Katakis shouted confused orders and the Whiptail Chuktar tried to thrust with his bladed tail. The tail was severed by a slicing cut which went straight on to sunder his armor in a welter of blood.

“Come on! Come on! Grab weapons! Bratch!”

Llodi was the first to react. He snatched up a fallen trident and with a whooping shriek thrust a Shank clean through the guts.

Kuong and Mevancy retrieved swords and went to work.

Rollo got his fists around a trident and joined them.

The suddenness of it all, the shock, the abrupt death of the lord, tumbled the Fish Faces back in confusion. More died. The fight raged across the filthy deck.

Even then, we might not have done it — probably would not have done it — against this formidable opposition that swiftly threw more Shank soldiers into the fray. But acid was eating, eating at six membranes. The acid did not bite through evenly, so that the incendiary devices planted aboard six of the Shank flying ships ignited in sequence. With a great whoosh flames burst up from the ship next along the line. A bedlam of yells and shrieks broke from this vessel, the lord’s flagship, as the incendiary device I’d planted in the magazine at last took fire.

Half a dozen Fish Faces leaped over the side. Others hesitated.

Striking with the Krozair brand I cleared a space.

“Rollo! I’ll hold ’em. Get up to the controls!”

“But — Drajak—”

“Mevancy, go with Rollo! Come on. Runner, you know how to fly one of these contraptions! Move!”

Without another word Rollo started for the ladder to the next deck. The position of the controls was plain enough, in the armored box just for’ard of midships. Mevancy stuck a Kataki through and stepped on his tail as she ran with Rollo. She did not stop to cut his tail off. Normally one would cut off a Kataki’s tail if the opportunity offered; but she’d stuck him good. She and Rollo vanished above.

Now other slaves were coming alive, were seeing salvation.

I knew none of the others, apart from my four friends. The killing frenzy that had given me impetus enough to break free from the slave mentality had to be channeled, organized, used. This fight was not over yet.

Flames roared over the after part of the flagship. Fire was sweeping through all six ships in which the fire eggs had been planted.

This ship, the lord’s flagship, was a fine vessel. I had no compunction, in these latter days, in burning her. I just hoped we’d get her airborne before she was totally consumed.

Spouting flames, with Katakis and Shanks leaping over the side, the ship lurched. She lifted off and then fell back.

“Come on, Rollo, my lad. Come on!”

He took her up with a savage burst of power that threw many people to the deck. She nosed ahead and the flames streamed away aft. With Shanks and Katakis stumbling about, tripping over one another, falling to the deck, this was a splendid opportunity not to be wasted. There was not a shred of mercy in me as I raced on, striking with the green and red slimed longsword.

Mevancy’s head appeared over the upper deck as I chopped a Fish Face and swung to degut a Whiptail.

“Cabbage! There’s no one up here!”

She started to descend the ladder.

“Watch yourself, pigeon. There are a few of the shints down here.”

Now the ship lifting up and moving forward faster and faster sent a tail of flame streaming back. The slaves — who were slaves no more — fought on. In a burning ship we leaped for the sky.

“Hunt ’em all down!” I bellowed. “Leave not one of the cramphs.”

As you can see, I was in a right old paddy.

But, then, I’d been slave and had seen atrocities too dreadful to recount. My friends had been about to be murdered. And the scarlet breechclout and the Krozair brand had changed that, had altered fate.

With that swift onward rush of the flying ship through thin air the breeze swept in clean and sweet. The perennial stink of rotten fish diminished.

We went around the forward parts hunting slavers.

All the stern was now a single roaring mass of flames. When we were quite certain not a single Whiptail or Fish Face remained alive, we fell silent. Only the crackling roar of the flames and the windrush broke the silence.

Ripping a length of cloth from a Kataki face down in his own blood I cleaned the Krozair blade.

Mevancy’s soft voice, full of questioning, said: “Cabbage?”

I tried to find a smile for her.

“Thank you, pigeon.”

“What? You thank me? But—”

“I had failed here in Taranjin. All the land of Tarankar was lost, I thought. Then the Shanks and Katakis brought you and the others aboard.”

Even as I spoke I recognized my own loquaciousness. All the same, by Krun, it had been a near run thing. I was recovering rapidly now.

She nodded. “Oh, yes, I see.”

I think she did, at that.

Rollo walked up. He’d found a Lohvian longbow and was adjusting the quiver over his shoulder. He gave me a most peculiar look.

“I’ve read the stories, as I told you — Drajak.”

“You looped the cords around the controls as I showed you?”

I sounded sharp.

“Of course.” He sounded hurt. “I’m not that much of a fambly, am I?”

We were going along splendidly, burning and breaking up. How long the vessel would stay in one piece I couldn’t say. Either that, and a sudden plunge to the earth, or we’d all crisp. Neither prospect pleased.

Kuong and Llodi were both looking queasy. That was not from the fight. That was because they were Lohvians and they had no experience here of flying ships. In an effort to reassure them, I said: “These flying contraptions are wonderful. We’ll be all right.” In the aftermath of a fight few people can react with complete normalcy. Our conversation was strained and unnatural. We’d get over that, too.

“I’m going below and aft. I want to see if we are being pursued.”

Instantly, Mevancy snapped out: “You’ll get singed.”

His mind still on this marvelous experience of flying through thin air, Llodi said: “It’s been a funny old day, what with this flying an’ all.”

That broke some dam of expression in us all. We all laughed.

Kuong said: “I’ll come aft with you, Drajak.”

So far, not one of them had commented on my appearance, except Rollo’s oblique reference. He, alone of them all, knew my true identity. Yet the others had read the lurid tales of Dray Prescot, how he swung about the world of Kregen righting wrongs, rescuing damsels in distress, fighting oppression.

What you might call the trademarks of Dray Prescot were his scarlet breechcloth and the great Krozair longsword. Would they, I wondered futilely, then, would they connect up the clues? Could Rollo remain silent?

Well, that didn’t matter much any more. I had the task, handed to me by the Star Lords, of clearing all the damned Shanks out of Tarankar and then of all Paz.

From the lower rear balcony, with the heat pulsing down over our heads, we could stare aft and see the armada of Shank flying ships in grim pursuit.

“How many?”

After a short space, Rollo said: “I make it twenty nine.”

Wishing to be hard on the young hellion, I said: “Count again.”

Whilst he did so I reflected that he’d overlooked one vessel flying immediately astern of another, and had counted the two as one.

Rollo grumped: “Oh, aye. Thirty.”

“I suppose I needn’t explain that the odd one out could be your death?”

“No, you needn’t.” He sounded most sharp.

“Let’s get back on deck. It’s unhealthily warm here.”

Our streamer of smoke and flame trailing aft smudged across the sky. Truth to tell, there could be another thirty enemy hidden above that smoky tail, although I did not think so. We’d gained height in that first hectic escape and the Fish Faces were pressing on levelly and gaining height slowly so as not to fall back. From what now seemed only a few seasons ago when the Shanks had no vollers at all they had developed into competent aviators.

Back on deck Mevancy greeted me with: “You understand these flying boats. Surely you know a way to put out that fire?”

“Hell’s Bells and Buckets of Blood, woman,” I growled back at her. “I could spit on it, I suppose.”

“Oh, you!”

Rollo, very brightly, said: “I’ll check the controls.”

I said: “I have an itch. Kuong — I fancy there is a Kataki or a Fish Face hiding still.”

Instead of looking alarmed, Kuong brightened. “I agree with you, Drajak. I’ll get some of these people organized. We’ll smoke ’em out!”

“If we don’t get smoked out first,” sniffed Mevancy, very put out.

“Look, pigeon, in a wooden vessel like this all you can do is hope and pray. There isn’t even the sea to bucket up. We can press the flames back by the speed we go. But, eventually, they will eat forward.”

“Well, don’t expect me to pull you out again.”

Before I could stop myself, I’d rapped out:...