War Storm
Page 72
We charge through errant gunfire, coming from all directions. Most we can deflect easily enough. Some I throw back with force but no aim.
I curse through gritted teeth, blaming Cal, blaming Davidson, Farley, my father, even myself. Our plan accounted for nymphs, but not someone as powerful as Iris. I can’t think of anyone else besides a few nymph lords who could be strong enough to loose the ocean on the fort. And none of them would destroy Patriot so willingly. But Iris, a princess of another nation, a woman with no loyalty to Norta? She could rip this place apart and feel nothing. Still call it victory.
The seawall crashes behind us, echoing loudly even at a distance. Followed by the roar of pummeling waves as they break and swell, rushing through the streets, foaming around the buildings and walls of Fort Patriot. I imagine it in my head, a wall like blue fire, consuming everything in its path.
We sprint on, catching up to our battalion. Ptolemus barks at them to run, and they obey. Even the Montfort newbloods. There isn’t time for posturing.
The interior gates of Fort Patriot don’t open onto the city, but onto a long bridge crossing the harbor, connecting the artificial island of the fort to the mainland. Meaning we’ll have to run the half mile on a bridge over water, with enemy nymphs behind us, not to mention a rising ocean. Not exactly a winning combination if your goal is don’t drown.
Our oblivions make quick work of the first set of gates, blowing the massive doors out onto the bridge. Iron reinforcements go flying, splashing violently into the water. I barely hear it over the approaching roar of the flood. Iris must still be standing over it all, triumphant, smiling as she watches us scramble like rats caught in a rainstorm.
We hurry through the gate as the first swell hits, bringing with it a swirl of debris. Splintered wood, floating transports, guns, corpses. I run as fast as my legs will allow, wishing I were strong enough to lift us out of harm’s way. But neither of us has ever mastered the art of magnetron flight. Only Father can truly do that for any real amount of time.
The gravitrons guard our backs, using their abilities to push against the wave. They buy us time, but this swell is small. Barely higher than the arch of the gate.
Then the second wave, the true wave, hits, cresting over the walls themselves, smashing through the stone and concrete protecting the fort. The gravitrons are no use against such force and can only save themselves, flying up and over. At least one gets caught in the spray, tangled up in a swirl of water. He never resurfaces.
I don’t spare him another thought. I can’t.
The bridge is meant to be a defense for the fort, a long choke point to prevent any army from storming Patriot by land. It funnels us through a series of locks and gates, each slowing us down. The oblivions do what they can, leading us through a rhythm of explosions as we tear through one obstacle after another. Ptolemus and I split apart hinges and reinforcements, ripping steel and iron in our desperation.
We pass the halfway point, the city of Harbor Bay rising before our eyes, so close and yet so infinitely far. In a glance, I realize that the still, calm waters on either side of us are rising too. Bulging. Surging. Growing like the crashing wave still hunting after us with the inexorable force of a hurricane. Salty spray blasts across my vision, drenching my face, stinging my eyes. I reach blindly, clinging to the collar of Tolly’s armor. With a roar of frustration, I launch us both, using my ability to drag us up and over the next gate. Our battalion be damned. They’ll follow if they can. And if they can’t, they were bound to be left behind anyway.
How much does this armor weigh? a useless voice wonders in my head. Will I sink before I can shed it? End up at the bottom of the Bay?
Or worse, will I have to watch Ptolemus go into the waves and never come back up?
Water laps at my ankles. My boots slide over the paved bridge and I almost lose my footing. Only Ptolemus keeps me from plunging into the cloying depths, his arm now wrapped around my waist, holding me close. If we drown, we drown together.
I can almost feel Iris’s hunger as her waves pursue. She would love nothing more than to kill us. Kneecap the Rift, one more enemy to her people. Kill us the way our army killed her father.
I refuse to die like this.
But I see no plan, no attack I can make alone. The nymphs controlling the waves will kill us without even showing their faces. Unless we can somehow kill them first.
I need a gravitron.
I need a newblood.
I need Mare and her storms to light these bastards up.
Behind us, the thunder rumbles again, following the flash of random lightning. It isn’t enough.
All we can do is run, and hope that someone else will save us.
Such helplessness makes me sick.
Another wave crashes, from our right this time. Smaller than the tidal force at our backs, but still strong. It breaks Tolly’s grip on me, splitting us apart. My hands grasp at thin air and then stinging water as I fall headfirst, plunging into the port.
Some fire blooms on the surface, explosions. From oblivions or artillery fire, I can’t tell. All I can do is run my hands over myself, shedding armor before it drags me deeper. I try to keep my mental grip on Ptolemus’s copper as it moves, struggling through the water with me. He’s drowning too.
I kick furiously, trying to surface. As I do, another wave hits me head-on, sending me spiraling into the deep again without a single gasp of air.
The salt water stings my eyes and my lungs burn, but I try to swim, try to outrun the nymphs on the surface. The longer I stay down, the more dead I seem. The farther away I can get.
It’s Tolly’s turn to find me.
A fist closes on the scruff of my undershirt, dragging me along. Through the murky water, I see his silhouette alongside mine, his other hand clenching something metallic. Steel, shaped like a large bullet. Smooth. It drags us along, pushed by Tolly’s own ability. Like a motor.
Clenching my teeth, I grab hold. My lungs scream for relief until I can’t stand it any longer, letting loose a stream of bubbles. I gasp reflexively, choking down water.
With a mighty kick and another burst of strength, Tolly angles us to the surface even as my vision spots and darkens. He throws me forward, onto wet and shady sand.
On hands and knees, I sputter and choke, trying to spit up the water as quietly as possible. He thumps a fist on my back.
I can barely think, but I glance around anyway, eager to get my bearings. Even a second off guard could get us killed.
We’re under one of the docks of the Aquarian Port, in about six inches of lapping water. Boats hide us on either side, hemming us in with nothing but rotting seaweed, discarded rope, and barnacles.
Ptolemus looks beyond the dock into the few feet of space allowing us a prime view of the bridge and Fort Patriot beyond. The harbor is a surging cauldron, battered by dueling tides as the ocean itself rises and falls. Some wake crashes toward the shore, rapidly pushing water up to our necks. I sputter, grabbing at the rotted wood above my head, and for a moment I think we might find ourselves drowned onshore. But the water recedes, pulling back out again with unnatural force.
We move with it, clambering to the supports holding up the end of the dock. I only have my knives and bullets now, my armor discarded somewhere at the bottom of the port. Not that I care. I can find metal anywhere I want on land.
Ahead of us, waves assault the bridge again and again, tossing soldiers. Our battalion is a ruin, if not completely destroyed. House Samos will pay in blood today. The assault from the sea has failed.
A jet screams through the clouds, circling the thunderheads dissipating over the fort. Two more give chase, their wings tipped in Laris yellow. As I watch, the hunted plane bursts into flame, shearing apart before crashing into the distant waves. A strong wind tears across the harbor as other Laris jets dot the sky, flying low over the city. The sound of them threatens to rip my head open, but I would cheer them on if I could. The fleet is our real advantage.
I curse through gritted teeth, blaming Cal, blaming Davidson, Farley, my father, even myself. Our plan accounted for nymphs, but not someone as powerful as Iris. I can’t think of anyone else besides a few nymph lords who could be strong enough to loose the ocean on the fort. And none of them would destroy Patriot so willingly. But Iris, a princess of another nation, a woman with no loyalty to Norta? She could rip this place apart and feel nothing. Still call it victory.
The seawall crashes behind us, echoing loudly even at a distance. Followed by the roar of pummeling waves as they break and swell, rushing through the streets, foaming around the buildings and walls of Fort Patriot. I imagine it in my head, a wall like blue fire, consuming everything in its path.
We sprint on, catching up to our battalion. Ptolemus barks at them to run, and they obey. Even the Montfort newbloods. There isn’t time for posturing.
The interior gates of Fort Patriot don’t open onto the city, but onto a long bridge crossing the harbor, connecting the artificial island of the fort to the mainland. Meaning we’ll have to run the half mile on a bridge over water, with enemy nymphs behind us, not to mention a rising ocean. Not exactly a winning combination if your goal is don’t drown.
Our oblivions make quick work of the first set of gates, blowing the massive doors out onto the bridge. Iron reinforcements go flying, splashing violently into the water. I barely hear it over the approaching roar of the flood. Iris must still be standing over it all, triumphant, smiling as she watches us scramble like rats caught in a rainstorm.
We hurry through the gate as the first swell hits, bringing with it a swirl of debris. Splintered wood, floating transports, guns, corpses. I run as fast as my legs will allow, wishing I were strong enough to lift us out of harm’s way. But neither of us has ever mastered the art of magnetron flight. Only Father can truly do that for any real amount of time.
The gravitrons guard our backs, using their abilities to push against the wave. They buy us time, but this swell is small. Barely higher than the arch of the gate.
Then the second wave, the true wave, hits, cresting over the walls themselves, smashing through the stone and concrete protecting the fort. The gravitrons are no use against such force and can only save themselves, flying up and over. At least one gets caught in the spray, tangled up in a swirl of water. He never resurfaces.
I don’t spare him another thought. I can’t.
The bridge is meant to be a defense for the fort, a long choke point to prevent any army from storming Patriot by land. It funnels us through a series of locks and gates, each slowing us down. The oblivions do what they can, leading us through a rhythm of explosions as we tear through one obstacle after another. Ptolemus and I split apart hinges and reinforcements, ripping steel and iron in our desperation.
We pass the halfway point, the city of Harbor Bay rising before our eyes, so close and yet so infinitely far. In a glance, I realize that the still, calm waters on either side of us are rising too. Bulging. Surging. Growing like the crashing wave still hunting after us with the inexorable force of a hurricane. Salty spray blasts across my vision, drenching my face, stinging my eyes. I reach blindly, clinging to the collar of Tolly’s armor. With a roar of frustration, I launch us both, using my ability to drag us up and over the next gate. Our battalion be damned. They’ll follow if they can. And if they can’t, they were bound to be left behind anyway.
How much does this armor weigh? a useless voice wonders in my head. Will I sink before I can shed it? End up at the bottom of the Bay?
Or worse, will I have to watch Ptolemus go into the waves and never come back up?
Water laps at my ankles. My boots slide over the paved bridge and I almost lose my footing. Only Ptolemus keeps me from plunging into the cloying depths, his arm now wrapped around my waist, holding me close. If we drown, we drown together.
I can almost feel Iris’s hunger as her waves pursue. She would love nothing more than to kill us. Kneecap the Rift, one more enemy to her people. Kill us the way our army killed her father.
I refuse to die like this.
But I see no plan, no attack I can make alone. The nymphs controlling the waves will kill us without even showing their faces. Unless we can somehow kill them first.
I need a gravitron.
I need a newblood.
I need Mare and her storms to light these bastards up.
Behind us, the thunder rumbles again, following the flash of random lightning. It isn’t enough.
All we can do is run, and hope that someone else will save us.
Such helplessness makes me sick.
Another wave crashes, from our right this time. Smaller than the tidal force at our backs, but still strong. It breaks Tolly’s grip on me, splitting us apart. My hands grasp at thin air and then stinging water as I fall headfirst, plunging into the port.
Some fire blooms on the surface, explosions. From oblivions or artillery fire, I can’t tell. All I can do is run my hands over myself, shedding armor before it drags me deeper. I try to keep my mental grip on Ptolemus’s copper as it moves, struggling through the water with me. He’s drowning too.
I kick furiously, trying to surface. As I do, another wave hits me head-on, sending me spiraling into the deep again without a single gasp of air.
The salt water stings my eyes and my lungs burn, but I try to swim, try to outrun the nymphs on the surface. The longer I stay down, the more dead I seem. The farther away I can get.
It’s Tolly’s turn to find me.
A fist closes on the scruff of my undershirt, dragging me along. Through the murky water, I see his silhouette alongside mine, his other hand clenching something metallic. Steel, shaped like a large bullet. Smooth. It drags us along, pushed by Tolly’s own ability. Like a motor.
Clenching my teeth, I grab hold. My lungs scream for relief until I can’t stand it any longer, letting loose a stream of bubbles. I gasp reflexively, choking down water.
With a mighty kick and another burst of strength, Tolly angles us to the surface even as my vision spots and darkens. He throws me forward, onto wet and shady sand.
On hands and knees, I sputter and choke, trying to spit up the water as quietly as possible. He thumps a fist on my back.
I can barely think, but I glance around anyway, eager to get my bearings. Even a second off guard could get us killed.
We’re under one of the docks of the Aquarian Port, in about six inches of lapping water. Boats hide us on either side, hemming us in with nothing but rotting seaweed, discarded rope, and barnacles.
Ptolemus looks beyond the dock into the few feet of space allowing us a prime view of the bridge and Fort Patriot beyond. The harbor is a surging cauldron, battered by dueling tides as the ocean itself rises and falls. Some wake crashes toward the shore, rapidly pushing water up to our necks. I sputter, grabbing at the rotted wood above my head, and for a moment I think we might find ourselves drowned onshore. But the water recedes, pulling back out again with unnatural force.
We move with it, clambering to the supports holding up the end of the dock. I only have my knives and bullets now, my armor discarded somewhere at the bottom of the port. Not that I care. I can find metal anywhere I want on land.
Ahead of us, waves assault the bridge again and again, tossing soldiers. Our battalion is a ruin, if not completely destroyed. House Samos will pay in blood today. The assault from the sea has failed.
A jet screams through the clouds, circling the thunderheads dissipating over the fort. Two more give chase, their wings tipped in Laris yellow. As I watch, the hunted plane bursts into flame, shearing apart before crashing into the distant waves. A strong wind tears across the harbor as other Laris jets dot the sky, flying low over the city. The sound of them threatens to rip my head open, but I would cheer them on if I could. The fleet is our real advantage.
