But if the attack succeeded Molok would add another city to his growing empire, and much as he disliked Valerius he liked Molok even less. He had seen what the mad wizard had done in Hydra and he did not like the idea of a world under his control. Hydra had once been Ulrik’s city but it was no longer and Molok was responsible for that. He had changed it from a place of wild freedom into something else, a place where men and women were enslaved even if they did not quite know it yet.
He did not like where Molok’s plan would eventually lead, a hell world of Chaos, under the heel of demons. He had personal experience now of what that could mean, and it was not something he would wish on his worst enemies.
In the face of that prospect, he found he could even side with Valerius. Molok needed to be stopped, and at that moment, they were the best placed to thwart his plans. Under the circumstances he did not really have much choice. He leaned forward on the control lever and urged the elemental to greater speed. The rotor’s whine increased. The little craft seemed to pick up speed.
He set his course by the stars and tried to coax every extra atom of speed from the elemental engines. The night sky became a blur. The shadow of the flyer scudded over the dunes.
As the wastelands flowed passed below them, Ulrik felt the elemental straining within its housing. The creature was tiring, energy draining away too fast. He knew why too. The rotors were making a strange noise and occasionally he smelled the distinctive aroma of overheating lubricant.
“What is wrong? Why can’t we go any faster,” Valerius asked.
“There is something wrong with the engine,” Ulrik replied.
“We need to get to Typhon before the Hydran fleet. At this rate the city will be conquered and we won’t be there until the Conjunction of New Moons.”
“Maybe there was a reason why this ship was so easy to steal,” said Rhea. “Maybe nobody wanted it anyway.”
“It might have been more useful if you had pointed that out at the time,” said Valerius.
“You think it was easy stealing this ship,” said Ulrik. “I didn’t notice you scaling the side of a building in an earthquake while a Demon God manifested himself over your head.”
Ulrik studied the horizon. The huge bulk of Molok’s floating citadel was only just visible, like a great thundercloud. It was dwarfed everything in the surrounding fleet, as a cathedral would dwarf a collection of wastelander hovels.
“You’ve got to do something,” said Valerius. “We can’t let them escape.”
“Is that what they are doing?” Ulrik asked. “Are we letting them go?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I need to set this ship down and take a look at the engine.”
“We’ll lose even more time.”
“One thing is for certain. We’ll never get to Typhon unless something is done about the engine. And we don’t have enough food and water for a long stay in the desert either. This is no lifeboat.”
Valerius turned away and stared at the horizon. His shoulders were pulled back and his back was unnaturally straight. He let out a long sigh. “You’re right. Take her down.”
Ulrik began looking for a clear space in the wastelands to set the little airship down on its runners. He felt angry himself. He understood Valerius’s frustration. It was not a good thing to be caught in this unequal race with the fate of the city depending on this one small and unreliable ship. And it looked like whatever the outcome he would take the blame for it.
He realised exactly how much his allegiances had changed in the past few days. The fleet up ahead belonged to what he considered his home city. It was en route to a great victory over the people who had long been Hydra’s greatest enemies. And here he was worrying that he might not be able to stop it. Life has certainly changed, he thought, picking a patch of open cobalt sand and pointing the nose of the little airship towards it. The elemental grumbled in protest as he forced it to greater efforts.
“Here we go again,” said Valerius as the wastelands rose to meet them.
Ulrik wiped away the sweat from his forehead and he bolted the rotor casing back into place. The sun beat down relentlessly and he was all too aware of its power at this time of day. He cast an envious eye over at Valerius and Rhea huddled in the shadow of a massive boulder. They looked cool, if not relaxed. They were starting to recover from their ordeal in Molok’s citadel.
“How is it coming?” Valerius shouted. Despite his appearance the strain was evident in his voice.
“I’ve done all I could,” said Ulrik. “I’ve cleaned and lubricated the engine block and made sure the connections between the elemental housing and the rotor drive are tight. I’ve snapped the overload circuits as well. We won’t have any safety margin but we should be able to get more speed from the engine. Now you’re going to have to help me strip the fuselage.”
“What?”
“We need to get rid of every bit of excess weight. It’s the only way to get a reasonable speed out of this pile of scrap.”
“What are you going to dump?”
“Everything that’s not needed to keep this junkheap in the sky. Every bit of excess weight. The seats, the decorative trim, the rear faring covers.”
Grumbling Valerius rose and made his way towards the ship. Rhea paused for a bit looking over her shoulder. The massive reptilian head of a hunting banthar peeked over a nearby dune. Ulrik picked up a stone and lobbed it at it. The creature roared. Ulrik reached for his blades. It was a coin toss whether the stone would irritate the beast into charging or drive it away. Rhea and Valerius scrambled behind the airboat.
Ulrik and the predator exchanged glares. From the copper and black striping on its head rill he could tell it was still young and inexperienced. Ulrik threw another stone. The beast was obviously not used to such disrespectful treatment. Ulrik yelled at it and it turned and ambled slowly away.
“You’re mad,” said Valerius coming out from cover.
“It wasn’t hungry, just curious,” said Ulrik. “Otherwise it would have come for us.”
“How did you know that?” the wizard asked. Ulrik paused for a moment luxuriating in the sensation of, for once, being the one with the answers when Valerius did not.
“I didn’t,” he said at last. “Not until it turned away.”
“It’s reassuring to have such an expert in wasteland survival in one’s employ,” said Valerius.
“Let’s get started,” said Ulrik. “We need to strip this ship and every extra minute it takes us, Molok’s fleet gets closer to Typhon.”
Overhead the stars gleamed brightly. The ring had begun the slow transformation to topaz that marked the coming of a new season. It was cold on the deck of the airboat. Valerius lay in the back asleep. Rhea stood behind Ulrik as he hunched over the controls. He could feel the warmth of her body pressing against his back.
“I thought you were dead in Molok’s throne room,” she murmured in his ear. “And then I thought you were gone forever when I saw the demon Valerius had transformed you into.”
Ulrik remained silent, concentrating on the control indicators. They were in the red, as the elemental struggled to power the overloaded engines. Still, at least they were moving quickly since he had worked his impromptu repair down in the desert. They might even have a chance of overhauling the Hydran fleet, if it kept to the speed of the great flying citadel.
“You don’t say much, do you?” Rhea said. Ulrik grunted. His muscles felt like they had fused, his eyes were gummy from the strain of staying open. He supposed it was what they got for flying over the Wastes in a ship that was never meant to go too far from a city.
“Do you?” Rhea prompted. “You don’t believe in making things easy, either.”
Ulrik wondered what she was talking about. Now was not the time for having a meaningful conversation. It was taking all his efforts to merely stay awake and keep them on course. Somewhere up ahead was the Hydran fleet. He was going to have to be ready if they met any stragglers or rearguard. H
e doubted they would be friendly to a strange ship encountered in the middle of the desert as they were en route to the biggest surprise attack in the history of Urath.
“I am trying to say that I was worried about you,” said Rhea.
“Why?” he said. He remembered similar conversations with Anna. She was not going to let up until he said something.
“I like you. I thought that was obvious.”
“I like you too. And I would be sorry if anything happened to you,” Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. He was uncomfortably aware of the needle points of her claws resting on the muscle.
“Your skin feels different now, and you smell different as well.”
“Blame Valerius. He’s the one who did this to me.”
“I do blame him,” she said. “And if it was not for the power of the geas he has laid on me, I would probably be having strong words with him right now. Or more than strong words.”
“I thought you liked him.”
“I am starting to see him in a somewhat different light. I think his spells may have warped my thinking in the past. He is a very powerful magician you know, although he pretends otherwise.”
“It’s not something I need pointed out to me,” said Ulrik. “I have been on the receiving end of his power. Still, he was only doing what he had to.”
“You’re defending him?”
“I know something of the nature of expediency,” he wanted to distract her from this topic of conversation so he said, “Let me show you how the controls work. You should be able to guide the airboat if anything happens to me. Or so I can rest. It would be best if we flew the ship in relays. We still have a long way to go.”
He gave her a brief overview of the controls and then let her guide the ship for a while. She seemed delighted by her new found knowledge, altering their course slightly just because she could. He told her to stop doing that. They needed to keep on a straight course if they were to have any chance of getting to Typhon before Molok and his fleet.
“What’s that up ahead?” Valerius asked. His pointing finger indicated a vast cloud of glowing embers in the sky.
“It’s the running lights of a fleet, a very large one,” said Ulrik.
“The Hydrans?”
“Who else could it be?”
“What are you going to do?”
“Gain some altitude and fly over them.”
“Won’t we lose speed as we climb.”
“We’ll gain it on the descent.”
“What if they have scouts?”
“They will have, but we are running without lights, and if they notice us what will they do? We could just as easily be part of their fleet for all they know.”
“We could go round them.”
“It would take more time, and that’s becoming precious. We’re very close to Typhon now and we will only have hours to organise the defences.”
Valerius looked as if he wanted to argue.
“I’ll do what you want,” Ulrik said. “But you will only have yourself to blame if we are too late.”
“Very well,” said the wizard. “You are the pilot here. The fate of the Empire is in your hands.”
Ulrik pulled back on the stick. The flyer began to climb. He could feel the elemental straining as it powered them upwards. He was starting to know how it felt.
The whole Hydran fleet spread out below him. It was the most massive force he had ever seen. Looking down on it was like looking down on a city at night. The densest collection of running lights was in the centre where Molok’s flagship, his great floating palace, was. By the gods, it was a monster. He altered his eyes to look deeper into the magical spectrum and saw that it positively radiated demonic power.
From above he could see that the citadel resembled a great flying crucifix elongated towards the prow. The whole structure glowed brilliantly but where the wings met the body, its brilliance was greatest. He remembered the chamber in which he and Rhea had first been captured, the place where the demon lord was imprisoned. That was the source of power.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” said Valerius. He did not sound impressed. He sounded depressed.
“The Typhonian fleet will be a match for it.”
“If it was all assembled in one place, maybe, but it’s not. Our enemies are demonstrating along our borders, raiders are striking at the furthest outposts of empire drawing it off. We will be lucky if all of the home fleet is present, and even that might not be enough.”
“You will be fighting over your home city. The ground defences are formidable.”
“Yes, that’s what worries me.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Molok must know that as well as we do. Surely he has a plan for dealing with them.”
“How do you think he will do that?”
“My first guess would be sorcery. He has a Demon Prince bound into that flying fortress. He has an enormous amount of power to draw on. My second would be treachery. You never know, he might decide to combine the two.”
“You’re really looking on the bright side, aren’t you?”
“I don’t see much of a bright side to this,” said Valerius. “Even if we are in time, we are looking at the largest air battle in recent history and one my people are ill-prepared to fight.”
It took a few moments for the words to sink in and for Ulrik to understand his response to them. The largest air battle in history. He found that thought exciting, and it wasn’t just the demonic part of him that felt that way.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ulrik brought the flyer swooping in over the towers of Typhon. The city looked far bigger than Hydra and not nearly so ruined, but he knew that that could all change very quickly once Molok’s fleet attacked. His eyes were red and his limbs felt stiff from hours spent hunched over the controls but they had done it, they had managed to outdistance the Hydran fleet and they had arrived in time to bring the warning.
Behind him, Valerius stirred. “We’ve done it.”
Rhea hugged Ulrik from behind. For a moment he enjoyed the feeling of her warm body pressed against his back then he shrugged her off, needing to concentrate all of his efforts on the controls.
“Head for the Karnak Tower.” Valerius said.
Ulrik throttled back the engines, knowing that he would have to avoid the dense shoals of traffic moving between the towers. It would not do for them to have made it all this way and then to have an accident on the final stage of their journey.
He had to resist the urge to go all-out. Something of the urgency in Valerius’s voice had communicated itself to him. It seemed like the approach to the tower took as long as the final hundred leagues of their voyage but eventually he set the flyer down on the landing platform on the side of the tower and jumped out only to be confronted by armed guards, barring his way.
“Step aside,” said Valerius. “I must speak with my uncle.”
“Master Valerius, is it really you?” The guard spoke in the sort of voice that he would have used for talking to a ghost.
“Alive and in the flesh,” said Valerius. “Now take me to my uncle. I have urgent news that he must spread before the Council.”
“At once, sir,” said the guard, escorting them into the darkened corridors of the Karnak Palace.
“So we have hours at best,” said Lord Karnak, stroking his chin with one long, thin finger. He leaned over and smelled an orchid. His eyes focused on some distant point on the ceiling, his fingers steepled together. It seemed dream-like to be in the sumptuously furnished place after days clinging to the flyer.
“You must inform the Emperor at once,” said Valerius. His uncle merely looked at him and smiled.
“Must I?”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems to me that there are many things to consider. A few hours can make all the difference in the marketplace particularly with something like war coming.”
“I cannot believe that you are thinking of commercial advantage at a time like th
is, uncle,” said Valerius.
“Then you have a lot to learn. This is the best time to be thinking about it. I believe that given only half an hour’s head start I should be able to corner the futures market in power crystals, ammunition and various shipping contracts.”
“But soon the city might lie in ruins.”
“A good point. It might be worth investing in some construction futures as well.” The old man’s cruel smile and the glint in his eye showed that he had understood Valerius’s real meaning.
“I was thinking more of the fact that we might be fighting for our lives and not simply for our wealth.”
“Then you fail to understand one of the basic truths of our existence. Which is to say that in this age, being who we are, our wealth and our lives are one and the same thing. We have wasted enough time on this, Valerius.” The old man appeared to come to a decision. “I will inform the Emperor of this news personally. The fate of the city is indeed in the balance. Take my seal. You will take charge of the Ravager. It will be your flagship. Lead our fleet to battle.”
“What about Telerius? Should he not be in charge?” Valerius cocked his head to one side. He sounded doubtful.
“Let us just say that you are slightly higher in my favour at the moment.”
Ulrik expected to see triumph written on Valerius’s face, but it was not there. The wizard reached out and took the seal gingerly, as if he was expecting some sort of trap. Ulrik realised that it wasn’t. It was no more in Lord Karnak’s interest that the city fall than it was that he lose his entire fortune. The old man merely wanted what he said -- the time to exploit this unique opportunity that Valerius had put in his way.
“Come, Ulrik,” said Valerius. “We have a battle to fight.”
Ulrik stood at the prow of the Ravager and scanned the horizon. It was the largest warship he had ever flown on, the sort of enormously potent dreadnaught of the skies that only a Typhonian merchant House, or a powerful city state could afford to build. It displaced thirty-thousand tons and was almost three hundred paces from stem to armoured stern. Huge batteries lined its stubby wings. Twenty monstrously powerful sky turbines drove it through the sky. Behind them loomed the gigantic super-structure from which the captain and his officers would view the battle. Huge turrets bristling with prismatic cannons bulged in its side, on its decks, beneath the prow and below the tail fins.