Without Rhythm (The Lament) (27 page)

"Rounds for it. You have ten shots in the weapon and this gives you ten more. After that you won't have enough charge to do anything. Before you use this though, try the rifle. It's the same as the one you've been carrying, but about four times stronger and with a heavier round. This will kill too, with a shot to the middle or head. Not as certain as a Kinetic pistol, but easier to use at long distances. The canister is heavier, so no spare for that one, here."

The thing was bulky and weighed at least fifteen pounds, which was a lot more than she'd expected. She nearly dropped the thing at first, Clark wisely not letting go of it until she nodded.

"With these you're better armed than almost anyone on the planet. If you were one of us, a trained Guardian I mean, armed like this you'd be expected to be able to defend against nearly thirty attackers at once." He shrugged and gave her the most serious look he could manage with a smile trying to force its way onto his face.

"As a Bard you can just shoot one or two and then claim it's thirty, so it will balance out, don't you think?"

She nodded and held the barrel of the rifle toward the floor as Clark locked the weapons cabinet behind him.

"Like how I single handedly beat all fifty of the Creedy brothers with nothing but a single song and a few well placed kicks to the groin?"

They walked toward the galley at a speed that was close to jogging then, the man nodded a bit as they did.

"Exactly like that. Though I think the real story is good enough. No one will believe it anyway. Though if you tell it... You might change the name of the woman from the town, so she won't be shamed."

It was a good, and real point. She'd need to do that, both to protect the woman and because as a Bard she'd be expected to have some stories ready to tell on short notice. Most of the ones she had so far were just the things taught to everyone in school. Everyone knew those, so they weren't that much fun. Stories from her life would be more useful to her. Of course those would be a lot better if she was only involved on the fringes. Talking about things that she'd done would seem like bragging, unless she came out looking silly for having done them. It wouldn't be that hard to manage.

Like this story, where she'd probably be out standing in the rain for a day with nothing happening.

"I need something to keep the rain off. I don't have an oil slicker or anything." Even if she'd had all her gear from school she still wouldn't. She'd never owned anything like that. Most people simply didn't go out in the rain if they could help it. She just couldn't avoid it right now.

Clark tilted his head and ran, but not to his room. He went to Judge Claire's quarters instead and pulled out a very nice and clean looking piece of material in deep green that was coated in something that made it slick and unpleasant feeling to the touch.

Pran grimaced as it was slipped on over her head. She needed something like it, but she hadn't even asked permission to use it. She probably couldn't now either, since the Judges were all on The Conscript with Mara and they were taking off, if they hadn't done so already.

"She's going to kill me if I get this ruined too, isn't she?" Pran stared down at the nice and no doubt expensive covering, her arms in the sleeves already getting warm.

"Most likely. Still, this is an emergency and she's a public servant. It's her job to protect other people, as much as it is ours as Guardians. I've never seen her hesitate to do that."

"I'm not really a Guardian. I'm only an Apprentice Bard and a brand new one at that."

"Oh? I seem to remember you signing on with me and Mara... I guess I could be mistaken, but it seems to me that you have the faith of the Head Councilor already and are being given a post that would normally go to a full Guardian if we had anyone to spare. We just don't know what we'll be facing and can't risk it. You can do this Pran. Your friends and shipmates are counting on you. There is no one else."

Then, without waiting for her to respond, he turned and led her out into the open air.

It was still light out as the last of the ships took off, one from the far side of the field, so nameless as far as Pran knew. Not really, but she hadn't memorized them all, even though it occurred to her now that it would have been a good idea. That way she could use them in a song or story later. Maybe she could figure it all out and write it down?

The Guardians had moved out earlier, leaving her in charge of making sure that everyone made it out. It had seemed to make perfect sense, even to her, right until everyone else was gone and the upper portion of The Lament started to deflate, leaving the wooden support beams hollow and empty, like the ribs of some great beast left for other things to feed off of. It was a dark thing, but the clouds were too and the lightning in the distance didn't leave her feeling any better. The Captain came out with almost everyone else, except the Doctor, to make certain the lines were all tied properly and that they wouldn't tip over in when the winds got hard.

"You, on the right... How look the heave?"

"Solid!" The voice was familiar and odd at the same time. It was the man with the spider veins on his nose. The one that had been in town with Tammy and Dovish. There was another lady too... Also on the crew. Were they spies too? Or cult members at least? There wasn't a lot of secret information to be had on an airship after all, but that didn't mean they weren't involved. It would be worth watching them and mentioning it to someone when the Guardians got back.

Hopefully they'd all make it. No one had spoken about it except Clark, but it was just possible that whatever old tech these people had would be too much for them in a fight. They were good, but still human after all. They all were, including the enemy. They had to be.

It was a failing of Bard training and the art schools in particular, that tripped her up for a few seconds. After all, she could think of a thousand and two different possible outcomes, some that included ancient monsters or devices that their more sensible world couldn't match at all. She shook herself and moved back into the first line of brush, hoping that she didn't get struck by lightning. There were tall metal rods at the edges of the field to attract it away from the ship, but she didn't know how well that worked. No one seemed thrilled with the storm.

She used to like watching them from the window of her room while she worked on whatever project she'd been assigned. Now though she had a real job and didn't have time to admire the bright streaks and peals of thunder.

The rain followed about twenty minutes after the ship was secured and she tried to stay out of sight and mobile, using the brush to hide her, trying to blend in as best she could. It probably wasn't all that effective, but she didn't have a lot else to do. It was up to her to watch and to try to be ready, in case she had to fight. Of course if that happened it would probably already be too late. Maybe if she could get them to chase her somehow? It would be best if nothing happened, but hoping for good things had never gotten her much, so Pran decided to work out a strategy.

Nothing much came, since she didn't know what to expect. Men and women on foot? If that was the case she'd have to be far away from them, or they'd kill her with their weapons. Fire based things, she thought. They sounded like thunder too, and killed a lot faster than her rifle would. Trees stopped them, so she could hide in the woods...

Except that wouldn't get their attention, would it? The air rifle might, but again, she didn't want a fight, if it was possible to avoid. Her lying on the wet ground, bleeding to death... that wouldn't help anyone at all.

When she moved to get her beam light, the night coming early, she found it wrapped in a folded piece of paper, one with three large pills stuck to it with wax. The note didn't say much, just to take one every twelve hours. She did it, hoping it wasn't a trick and that it was what Clark had mentioned. They tasted like grass, and nothing seemed to happen for a long time. Half an hour or more. She drank half a bottle of water with the first one, because it made her thirsty for some reason.

She felt the initial rush of energy after a while and it didn't fade at all, which was incredibly useful. She practiced running and hiding for hours, watching The Lament and the surrounding area as closely as she could, her mind racing the whole time. It was cold and miserable in the rain, the wind lifting her rain slick to push icy droplets under it occasionally, but she didn't let that stop her. She kept moving, never letting herself rest for too long, figuring that it would help keep her alert. It probably didn't do much, not really, but she felt better about it, even as the night sky turned to brilliant white and blue three times a minute.

That should have freaked her out, but for some reason it didn't. She almost didn't care about the thunder either. Even if it was a loud and rolling thing that never seemed to end.

That was something though. The sound was soft, but getting louder. Even when there hadn't been any lightning for nearly a full minute. Pran stood up and ran straight to The Lament, pounding on the front hatch with the back part of her rifle, the wood making a mighty clatter against the thick oak of the door. Finally it opened, showing Paul, who was stooped over and holding his middle with one hand, a rifle in the other.

"Need a break? You've been out for about eight hours." He sounded slightly tense, and the whole thing creaked above them, balloon down or not.

"Listen!" Pran didn't try to explain, but about thirty seconds later he got it.

"Crap. We... I'll tell the Captain, but we can't lift off in these winds. It's them. Has to be." The man froze for a second then shook his head.

"We'll arm everyone, they can't take our ship. We'll scuttle her first..."

Pran didn't get what he meant, but nodded her head and pushed past him, a little roughly, which made him grunt in pain.

"Sorry, I have an idea. I'll try to keep them busy. I don't know how long I can do it for, but... as soon as the winds let up a bit, you need to go." She ran then, realizing that it had to sound insane.

What was she going to do to stop an army of attackers with old tech that probably wanted them all dead? Sing them into submission?

That was ridiculous. No, she had to do better than that. She needed to tell them a
story
. One that would capture their minds so totally they forgot why they came in the first place, whatever the reason for that was. The best ones had music with them too, of course. She'd always thought that anyway. Pran ran to her little room, to find Roy just sitting in the dark, his face scared when she opened the door.

"Won't be a second. I just need my... Lute I think. Here... help me wrap it in my slick." She pulled the pack off first, then the slick, which she tossed to the boy, who was made instantly wet. It was a horrible idea, taking an instrument out into the damp like she was planning, but it wasn't a normal situation at all. Roy didn't speak, just holding the green material out for a bit so that she could work.

"What are you going to do?"

Pran laughed, realizing that whatever the drugs were that Clark had given her, they didn't just work to keep a body awake. She wasn't scared at all and felt a little manic. She smiled and took the wrapped instrument.

"Buy time. Maybe. If not, you and Paul will defend the ship. Remember, try to avoid being hit by bullets." It sounded like sage advice to her, but the young man made a face.

"Right. I don't know how to shoot, not really. What am I supposed to do?" It held a plaintive edge, his homely face made almost cute by the forlorn expression on it for some reason. Probably mental illness on her part. No normal person would be thinking about things like people being cute in a situation like that would they? On impulse, half blaming the drugs, she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't a very good kiss, she didn't think, but he returned it with greater skill and didn't seem to mind.

"Don't die Pran."

"You either. Deal?"

"Deal." He hugged her a little and then let go as she started to struggle, not having time to hang out and have sex. She had something else to do.

Something that was only half planned and made no sense to her at all. She ran to the door and into the night without hesitation, the sound of growling thunder moving toward her position fast. She ran straight toward it, wanting to fight as far away from the ship as possible, if it came to that. It was a good idea, but harder to run holding both her rifle and the lute. She needed both so she made it work, moving well down the road before spotting the dim lights moving toward her. Moving lights. Electric ones.

They were like eyes in the rain, shining brightly. Three sets of them. The only thing that let her make out the odd shapes were the lights of the vehicles behind them. They had wheels, but inside strips of something, and moved fast, like a horse at a trot, the backs of the things rounded like covered wagons.

Nothing pulled them. They just moved, growling into the darkness, letting everyone for miles know what was coming. She needed to get them to stop, and hopefully to not make any more noise. They couldn't hear her story otherwise, could they?

The sane thing to do, of course, would have been to wait for them to pass, or maybe just to run off and hide. She was a Bard after all, not trained to fight. She wasn't a Guardian, not even a trainee. No, she wasn't a fighter at all. She was just a girl.