Endfall (12 page)

              “Touching in eight,” said Thamos, looking back at them. He then pressed his foot on a silver lever, swinging the aircraft a great deal lower. They flew through the shadowy mountains of the North Rim. “The coldest place in Pæraleth!” Thamos’s voice again, this time coming through the gold speakers, “Reichtmagen has been sighted,” But Thamos stopped his speaking for a moment. Engand was waiting for him to continue, but when he didn’t, Engand stood up and began to walk towards the pilot room. “
O.M.D
, we have a problem, there’s something near the entrance,” said Thamos.

              Engand opened the door the pilot room and said, “Something?” Looking through the glass, Engand spotted them; standing on the icy cliff, near the entrance to Reichtmagen, were nearly twenty men dressed in black, all wearing large, fancy hats.

              Thamos spoke, “Engand, are those –”

              “Parliament members, I think so,” said Engand, bolting back into the seating room. “Weapon’s ready! We’re going to make a drop!” He shouted, heading for the back of the room where the drop equipment was.

              “A drop?” Asked Simo, “Was a drop part of the original plan?”

              “What’s a drop?” asked Milo.

              “No,” said Engand, “But there is no way we’ll make a safe landing with those men standing there. They have weapons.” He looked to Milo, “a drop is where we make it to the ground by ourselves, using these drop-chests.” He pointed to the walls of the firefly, where a dozen of these drop-chest contraptions where mounted. It looked like an armored harness, with several layers of folded fabric material.

              “But the firefly can hold, can’t it?” asked Milo.

              “It cannot,” Engand replied, grabbing a drop-chest off of the wall railings, “Remember, this is the first aircraft that we’ve built and it hasn’t been able to hold much more than wind.”

              “How many are down there?” asked Simo.

              The other lynxes began to go towards Engand, who was strapping the drop-chests onto them. He replied, “Twenty, maybe,” Simo was the last of them to have his drop-chest strapped on. The metal attachments were sort of uncomfortable, but were necessary for survival. Engand ran back to the pilot room.

              “They’ve spotted us, Engand,” said Thamos, “I’m circling around for the drop.” The weight of the firefly shifted.

              “I think they saw us coming before we saw them,” Engand said, looking out.

Thamos called over the speaker, “hold on!”

              “You, Thamos,” Engand said, “Will you be dropping with us?”

              “Someone must stay to pilot the firefly,” he said, “But I will try to make a second drop if I have the opportunity. If not, I will continue to circle the entrance until you’ve taken care of the enemy.”

              “Okay,” said Engand, now turning to the others in the seating room, “Milo, grab a chest!”

              Thamos’s voice came over the gold speakers, “Okay,
O.M.D
, prepare for the drop, in forty seconds!” Milo was finishing the fastening of the drop-chest, and he looked at Engand.

              “Have you guys done this before?” he asked.

              “What, dropping?” Engand responded, “just once, in training.”

              “Are you serious?”

              “Listen Milo,” Engand said, grabbing Milo’s shoulder, “when we hit the air, just focus on following the wind. There’s a current here that will take you to the mountain’s peak, right where we’re headed. And don’t forget you have that,” he pointed at the hilt of Milo’s sword with his last remark.

The team stood ready near the firefly’s drop door. Thamos pressed his foot on another silver lever and heard the sound of the drop door opening. Instantly, blasts of wind and snow came through the doorway, making ordinary breathing impossible. Thamos spoke through the golden speakers again, “Ready,” he said, pausing again, “Drop!”

              Engand leapt out of the aircraft, aiming down, and felt the wind tear at his body, freezing his skin. It was an agonizing cold at first, but quickly became tolerant. He soared through the blizzard filled sky, headed straight for the cliff were the enemy stood, watching with fear. He saw one of the men draw a blade, and many others quickly as well. Engand reached his arm to his back and drew his bow, laying a deadly arrow in its place. The wind, however, seemed to have a different idea. Engand released the arrow, but rather than striking the enemy, it ripped into pieces that were violently tossed back at him.

              Suddenly, behind him came Yusof, flying down towards the cliff at with great speed. Engand tried to call out to him, but the wind was too loud. Yusof was coming close to the Parliament members, who all had drawn blades and stood on the cliff. The few of them closest to the edge all raised their blades in the air. Engand watched Yusof draw back his claws and then strike at the men with crushing force as he came down, desolating any plans of a coordinated landing. Two of the men fell into the small crowd, and Yusof landed somewhere within. Engand was coming close as well, and when he turned to his side he spotted Patton and Simo in the air. When he looked back at the cliff, landing in the snow was Mussolin. He and Yusof had done an adequate job defending themselves; Engand saw the two lynxes lashing out at the Parliament, who fought back with hardly any loss in stamina.

              Milo landed with a crack, tumbling in several angles in the snow. He screamed and held his ankle, which was twisted. His sword had landed several feet from him. Engand prepared his bow as he came close, and then abruptly the snow was splashing about under his feet. He was on the cliff. Within just seconds, he had landed two arrows into the wretched faces of Parliament members. Without looking, Engand heard the sounds of the last of the lynxes landing safely on the cliff. In the sky, Thamos still piloted the firefly, circling around the mountainside. A man in a hat rushed towards Milo, and he panicked. Unable to stand, he reached for his sword. When he grasped it, he swung it upwards in the same motion, and it made contact with the blade of the man in the hat. A sharp ring hit Milo’s ears. There was a force coming from Milo’s sword that he felt in his arms, and he yelled out in anger at the man, who was now raising his blade again, but was stopped when his face was split with an arrow. Milo turned, and saw Engand give him a glance.

              Out of the blizzard came a sudden yelp. Patton turned around to face the body of Mussolin sliding across snow, blood gushing from his stomach. Patton saw the man with Mussolin’s blood dripping on his blade, and leaped at him. He grabbed the neck of the man, digging ten, razor sharp claws into human flesh and splitting bone. In a single motion, the man was lifeless, and Patton looked over to Simo, who also had just finished ripping someone apart. A grotesque amount of blood dripped from the rocks and snow that they stood in now.

              There was a man who stood near the entrance to the cave, who had a large machine in his hands. “What is that?” Engand called out, raising his bow. Abruptly, his bow was struck down by another man to his side. Then the man with the machine aimed it upwards in the sky. A blast of light came from the machine, and an incredibly loud sound, and something like a miniscule star was emitted from the tip, and the star came unbelievably close to the firefly, piloted by Thamos.

              “No!” Engand cried, smashing the face of the man who stood next to him. He broke into a mad sprint towards the man with the weapon, screaming. The man then turned to him and a blast of light came forth. The blast split rock, created a burst of fire, and sent a wall of snow into the air. Engand was safe from the blast, lying in the snow, covered in rock and blood. He was behind the man with the weapon, out of sight.

              Then there was screaming. It was Patton, Engand thought. When the snow and dirt had cleared from his eyes, he came to the gut-wrenching sight that proved he was right. Patton was laying there in the snow, barely able to make sounds but for screaming. His body was a mess, his head bloody, his limbs mashed and severed. His armor had been pierced and damaged and lynx bones were scattered across the cliff. Moments later, the screaming stopped.

              Engand looked around the cliff for survivors. He saw just the man with the weapon, and hiding behind a small chunk of ice were Yusof and Simo. He then saw the man aim the weapon once again at the firefly. Another star was birthed from the weapon and made its way to the aircraft. Engand witnessed the impact; he saw the explosion of fire and light, and then the beginning of the firefly’s fall, down to the ground.

              Engand began to stand, watching the Parliament member set the weapon to the ground. He staggered over to the man and in one quick move, turned him around and got a tight grip around his neck. Engand began to raise the man in the air, who was trying to scream, but couldn’t, for Engand’s grasp was impelling. He walked the man over to the edge of the cliff, where he stood for a moment, dangling the man in air. Engand released his grasp on the man’s throat, dropping him into the hopeless, white abyss.

              Engand stood now, on the cliff, among the blizzard. Yusof and Simo began to crawl out from behind the rock, walking towards him. “Where is Milo?”

              “Here,” said Milo, staggering up to them from behind a high snow drift. “My foot,” he said, trying to spit out more. His ankle and foot were mangled and bruised.

              Engand put a hand on Milo’s shoulder, “can you stand?”

              “Yeah, I think so,” he said. He reached down and adjusted his foot with his hand, it made a crackling noise.

“Patton is dead,” said Engand. Yusof and Simo both bowed their heads in respect. Milo followed. Engand did as well.  “Mussolin?”

              Yusof, without raising his head, said, “He, too.”              “And Thamos,” Engand said. They all bowed their heads again for the dead.

              Then they lifted their heads and looked at the monstrous cave entrance before them. “Reichtmagen,” said Milo.

ROARING ICE

Lyrah sprinted straight for the North edge of the Bay. She heard a metallic ping to her left, and fortunately dodged a swiftly flying blade that was aimed at her head, rotating brilliantly as it went past. She stopped beside the blade that now stuck deep in the ice, and looked around. Coming through the mist was a Parliament member.
What is he doing here?

             
He was walking at an average speed, but suddenly busted into a violent leap towards her. While in the air he drew another blade from what seemed like nothing. The sword in his hands found its way to the ice just slivers away from Lyrah’s feet. She drew a small silver blade from her side.

              “Unwise, grey one,” said the man. Lyrah remained silent. Instead she swung with a strikingly powerful attack at the man, who jumped back in astonishment. But his slight fear became anger and he swung downwards at her. She dodged swiftly, in perfect timing. She slipped on the ice, but quickly regained her balance and swung again at the man. He held up his blade in a strong block and held her blade with the metal of his own. He shoved her with it, sending her backwards on the ice. Any other time this would have knocked her down instantly, but her balance was reinforced this time by her controlling winds. The air was distorted slightly in this act, and the man noticed this. He gasped at the sight of her now, as she looked him directly in the eyes, her arm raised in his direction.

              With a sinister smile she said, “Unwise, old one.” With this, her fingers were aimed at his eyes, which were then abruptly torn from their sockets by the rumbling force of Lyrah’s control. Soon after came a grotesque, yellow fluid. The man began to scream in agony, but was quickly silenced by a lynx sent from the mists. The lynx’s blades became drunk with the man’s blood in a quick slash. Lyrah turned away from the sight of more fluids spraying onto the ice. In just moments, the lynx was gone again and the dead man lay in his own scattered contents on the ice.

              Lyrah began to run back in the direction she was previously headed, but it was now apparent to her that she was lost on the middle of the ice, in a white fog. All around there came the smell of blood and the sounds of battle, but she could not tell which direction was what. Nothing came through the fog, only sounds. The eerie feeling grew and grew inside her.

Abruptly, Lyrah was almost struck across the face brutally with steel fist; it had nearly missed her. It was unexpected, and she fell, sliding across the ice. She rolled over on the freezing surface and looked up at the metal man that alarmed her, its eyes glowing a bright red. The metal man’s heavy arm drove through the ice, creating a crater. The ice was thick, not thin enough to crack with a single strike. Lyrah was timely; she had moved just in time and was now scratching across the ice, moving away. But the metal beast did not give up, it began to advance on her. She was not off the ground yet, the ice was slippery and making it difficult to get onto her feet. She began to survey the ice for an advantage, frustrated and terrified. She detected a bronze dagger, belonging to a fallen rebel, within reaching distance.