Sky Raiders (17 page)

T
he sword did not come out easily, but with effort, Cole wrenched it free. Rattled, he slid off the cyclops and stumbled away from the fallen brute, arm and sword red and dripping.

He found Mira on her feet, soaked in black gore, sword in hand, her expression a mask of disbelief. “Cole?”

Beyond her, the
Okie Dokie
had flown past the edge of Parona, diving now instead of climbing as another barrage of flaming pitch flared toward it. Their ride sank out of view.

Cole turned away from her, eyes scouring the empty lane. “There’s a snake.”

“Snake?” Durny moaned.

“Durny?” Mira called.

“Are you all right?” Cole asked in surprise.

“What snake?” Durny demanded.

“A gigantic one,” Cole said. “Last I saw, it was killing Lyrus.”

Mira crouched beside Durny. “Are you hurt? Can you get up?”

Biting his lower lip, he gave his head a little shake. “I doubt it. Give me a moment.” He closed his eyes and began rubbing his torso while muttering quietly.

“What’s he doing?” Cole whispered.

“Trying to heal himself with shaping,” Mira said. “Not usually smart. It must be bad.”

Cole looked down the lane both ways. “The snake is big. And fast. We can’t fight it.” He glanced up. “It could come at us from a roof.”

“Durny?” Mira asked.

“I won’t make it,” he panted. “Use me as bait. Cole, when it consumes me, strike at it from hiding. Take off the head.”

“No,” Mira insisted. “If you die, we’ll die. They left us.”

“They may return,” Durny said.

“Not unless the catapults run out of ammo,” Cole said. “I saw one lifeboat go down. The
Domingo
was on fire.”

Durny looked at the sky. Only a strip of partly clouded blue was visible because of the buildings on either side. The
Domingo
and the lifeboats were out of sight. “You’re probably right. We’re on our own. And we’re too vulnerable here. We should get indoors. You’ll have to drag me.”

“Aaaargh!” yelled a voice from down the lane. Armor scraped and dented, Lyrus had stumbled into view. He staggered toward them. “Who killed Gromar?”

“What about the snake?” Cole called.

“I dispatched Nimbia,” Lyrus declared, “though she did herself proud.”

“The snake is dead?” Mira asked.

“Headless and squirming.”

“Is that the last of the guardians?” Cole asked.

“The catapults will continue to defend Parona until the end,” Lyrus said. “I did not activate them. When your ship fired upon Skelock, the response was unavoidable. You had permission to come here and remove treasure, not to attack from the sky.”

“Can you shut down the catapults?” Durny wondered.

“They’re beyond my control.”

“Will the catapults shoot at us?” Cole asked.

“Only if you’re airborne.”

As the warrior neared them, Cole saw large wide-spaced punctures in his breastplate. Blood flowed from the holes. “You’re injured,” Cole said.

“I’m dying,” Lyrus gasped. “I won’t last much longer.” He lifted his chin. “But I vowed to protect you until the end.” When he reached the cyclops, the soldier kicked its head. “I wanted to measure myself against Gromar. Who slew him?”

“Cole,” Mira said.

“You?” Lyrus shouted.

Cole held up the gory sword.

“With that tiny blade?”

Cole nodded.

“I misjudged you,” Lyrus said. “I’m most impressed.”

“Come here,” Durny said.

“I obey Cole,” Lyrus said.

“Do it,” Cole said.

Lyrus went and knelt beside Durny. The warrior eyed the two mangled halves of the tarantula. “How was this accomplished?”

“I’m a shaper,” Durny said. “Semblances are somewhat vulnerable to me. With the spider on top of me, I put everything I had into parting it. I’ve never accomplished such a feat before. It took a lot out of me.”

“How badly are you hurt?” Cole asked.

“It landed right on me,” Durny said. “My spine is broken. I have crushed organs. It also bit me twice. I neutralized the toxin and reshaped my insides to buy some time. I succeeded, but the actions I took guaranteed that my injuries will be fatal.”

“I don’t have much longer myself,” Lyrus said.

“Cole,” Durny spat. “Ask him if he harbors any other plans that could directly or indirectly harm you or Mira in any way.”

Cole wished he had used that question earlier. “Do you?”

“I have no such plans,” Lyrus said. “My duty as protector of Parona is complete. All defenses have already been engaged, and of course I will honor my pledge to personally do you no harm.”

“You won’t send any more tests our way?” Cole pressed.

“None,” the soldier answered.

“Give me your hand,” Durny said. After a nod from Cole, Lyrus complied. Durny closed his eyes, and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. His lips moved without sound.

The soldier’s eyes widened. “What have you done?”

“I quelled the venom, closed some wounds, and patched some damaged bones,” Durny said, releasing his hand. “It’s much easier to tinker with a semblance than a living being. Parona will not outlast you.”

“What now?” Mira asked.

“The catapults are no longer firing,” Durny said, eyes on Lyrus.

“They cease operating when no targets are within range,” the soldier said.

“Will they start again if a skycraft approaches?” Durny asked.

“They’re active now. They’ll target all newcomers.”

“How much ammunition do the catapults have?”

“Enough to fire continually until Parona disappears.”

“Is there any chance of Captain Post trying to rescue us?” Cole asked.

Durny closed his eyes. “Not under these circumstances. Few castles resist airborne intruders. This one resists them staunchly. The Sky Raiders don’t want to lose their most skilled shaper, but they wouldn’t send rescuers against defenses like this, not for anyone, not even for Adam.”

Cole looked at Mira. Were they doomed? Would they drift away into the cloudwall to be destroyed with the rest of Parona? “There must be something we can do.”

Durny opened his eyes. “Of course there is. I’m holding on to life for a reason. We must construct our own skycraft. It will require a minimum of five floatstones. Seven would be preferable. And we’ll need something to serve as the vessel itself.”

“We could use your help,” Cole told Lyrus.

“You’ll have it,” the soldier said.

“I don’t suppose you retrieved any of my tools?” Durny asked Cole.

“They were in one of the lifeboats that got away,” he said.

“Which lifeboat didn’t make it?” Mira wondered.

“The
Melody
got tagged by a catapult,” Cole said. “It blew apart. The men fell.”

“Did the debris land on Parona?” Durny asked hopefully.

“No, it missed.”

Durny frowned. “This mission is our biggest disaster in years.”

Cole felt terrible. “I really blew it.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Durny said. “You’ve helped us more than duty demanded. All raiders know the risks. I interviewed Lyrus, as did Rowly. We failed to ask the right question. Your champion hid his intentions well.”

“I grieve for your losses,” Lyrus said. “I was doing my duty.”

Durny studied Lyrus. “How well do you know Parona?”

“Almost as if we were one and the same.”

“Could you help us locate seven of the most available floatstones? The nodes that keep Parona aloft? We need to extract them with a minimum of digging and without bringing buildings down on top of us.”

“We can access some in the catacombs,” Lyrus said. “Six for certain, as long as we harvest them from different areas. The seventh would start to make things unstable.”

“I can manage with five,” Durny said. “I’ll need to be carried. I’m paralyzed from the waist down, and Mira lacks the know-how to extract floatstones on her own.”

Lyrus scooped Durny from the ground, cradling the injured shaper in his arms. The soldier looked to Cole.

“Take us to the first floatstone,” Cole ordered.

The soldier started walking. Cole and Mira followed.

“Pray that Parona drifts slowly today,” Durny said. “And pray I’m wrong about the look of these clouds.”

By the time they had extracted the fifth floatstone, night had fallen, and rain poured down on Parona. None of the fires had gone out in any of the torches, bowls, kettles, or platters scattered throughout Parona, whether indoors or outdoors. Droplets spat and hissed as they came into contact with the open flames.

The wind had risen, blowing the raindrops diagonally. No stars were visible. The temperature had fallen considerably.

Cole had felt useless while they hunted for floatstones. The catacombs beneath Parona connected into an elaborate labyrinth, allowing his group to move from one floatstone to the next without returning to the surface. Along most of the webby, convoluted corridors, skulls, partial skeletons, and other strange bones were embedded into the waxy walls. At each extraction site, Lyrus would strip away wax, fungi, and filth until he had laid bare the stone wall or floor. Mira gave Durny some support, but he did the heavy work, dividing the stone with his mind and holding it open while Mira pulled out the floatstone, then sealing the stone back up again as best he could.

Each floatstone was a mirrorlike disk with rounded edges, no bigger than a dinner plate, maybe three or four inches thick. Cole’s job was to carry them. When he let go of a floatstone, it hovered in place, perfectly stationary. The
floatstones resisted movement. He learned that they offered less resistance when he moved them slowly.

After helping Mira collect the fifth floatstone, Durny had slumped back, his pale face gaunt and slick with sweat. Cole doubted whether he could have extracted seven of these even if they had been readily available.

They had emerged from the catacombs some time ago. Durny rested on the floor, eyes closed, his breathing shallow but steady. They were waiting for Lyrus to return with something they could use as a skycraft. All the buildings were sparsely furnished, and so much of Parona was made of stone that they had yet to come across anything suitable. The soldier had assured them that he had some ideas.

“What a mess.” Cole sighed, staring beyond the colonnade to the steam hissing up from the rain-lashed fires spaced about the patio. “I’m so sorry.”

“You saved my life,” Mira said. “Durny’s, too.”

“Whatever. If you say so.”

He felt her hand on his shoulder. “Why’d you do it?” she asked earnestly. “Why risk your life for me? You were in a lifeboat. You could have escaped.”

Cole turned. She looked perplexed. He had asked himself the same question a couple of times while they roamed the catacombs seeking floatstones. He felt a little guilty about the chance he had taken. After all, Jenna and Dalton needed his help too. If he got himself killed, who would rescue them? “I didn’t want to see you get squished. It would have been my fault.”

She shook her head. “We’re slaves, Cole. You came here
because they forced you. If you want to place blame, give it to the owners of the Sky Raiders. No matter what goes wrong, you don’t deserve any of it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Cole said. “Still, I couldn’t watch you get killed. I just couldn’t. I saw it coming. I saw a chance to stop it, so I tried. There wasn’t time to think it through. I can hardly believe it worked.”

“Well, it was the bravest thing anyone has ever done for me. And the least expected. Thank you.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Cole suddenly found it difficult to breathe properly. He had never felt more self-conscious, or more pleased. He told his mouth not to spread into a big goofy smile, but the muscles in his cheeks wouldn’t listen.

“Aha!” Lyrus called. “To the victor go the spoils!”

Flustered, Cole tried not to look surprised and embarrassed. The brawny soldier was dragging something into the room. Maybe he was talking about the potential skycraft he had found. “What?”

“You saved a damsel in distress,” Lyrus said. “I may never have that pleasure. You speak like a coward but act like a hero. I can respect that.”

Lyrus set down the box. It was a large coffin in the traditional shape, widening to accommodate the shoulders, then narrowing toward the feet, like an elongated hexagon. Except it seemed to be built for an eight-foot-tall occupant.

“Where’d you find that?” Cole asked.

“In one of the crypts. There were plenty of smaller ones.
You should have seen the skeleton. It had the head of a bull. A minotaur, most like.”

Mira ran a hand along the side of the open box. “Feels sturdy. It hasn’t rotted.”

“I hope it serves,” Lyrus said.

Mira gently shook Durny. The shaper smacked his lips and opened his eyes. He looked over at the coffin, then propped himself up on one elbow and squinted intently. “Oh dear. A bit morbid, isn’t it? But it will have to suffice.” He looked to Lyrus. “How much time do we have?”

“The storm has hastened our progress,” the soldier replied. “Not more than two hours.”

Durny sighed. “I had hoped the children could wait for the storm to relent before departing. We’ll have to work quickly, and you two will have to risk the turbulent air.”