Chapter 33


    I stood at the prow of Marena’s Mercy, outside of the windshield, the fast-flowing air whipping and holding my hair aloft. The land below zipped past in record time. We were pushing the new rift engine to the max, and it performed admirably. Storm Raider was on our tail, but it managed to keep up despite Marena’s Mercy having a little extra oomph as the fleet''s flagship.


    LT tapped me on the shoulder and grabbed my attention. “The gate went online twenty minutes ago. Shana and Cole are on their way back to Stormblade Harbour without issue and Dallas is coming up on the long-range viewer.”


    Everything was going according to plan so far. “Let’s take a look then.”


    I hopped off the masthead, back onto the deck, and headed to the Bridge. There weren’t any crew members on board staring over the sides and the short stroll felt oddly macabre, like this was a ghost ship. The two ships were solely crewed by volunteers and only those who weren’t harbouring an injury were accepted.


    Jackson had woken up shortly before we departed and keeping him confined to his hospital bed took all three of his girlfriends.


    None of the accepted volunteers were under any illusions as to the danger they’d signed up for. Two ships against the might of the Liberation Army and the Dread Scourge were very long odds. The risks faced on this mission were greater than anything else the faction had faced with the possible exception of what Calum and the defence forces endured against the Mammoth mercenary and his army. However, they were defending their homes and had a glint of hope that reinforcements would make it in time.


    There was no one to come and save our skins or pull us from the lion’s den.


    The only thing that offered any chance of success was that the Libbers and the Scourge would be just as interested in killing one another as they would be in us. The upgraded Heavy Cannon Decks were the only odds evener in the equation. Not only did we get more cannons, but they took a step up in quality as well.


    Abyssal Fission Missile


    An explosive missile weapon that can only be shot from a specialised launcher such as a ship’s cannon. The Abyssal Fission Missile is a dual-purpose ranged weapon, effective against enemy fortifications and vehicles while also deadly to groups of enemy combatants. The core of the weapon is a rod of enchanted Demon-Forged Titanium. Upon firing, the enchantment will activate, and the rod will superheat. It is capable of inflicting extreme durability damage to any structure it impacts. Packed around the rod is an incendiary shrapnel payload that explodes outwards upon impact inflicting a mixture of Heat, Bludgeoning, and Piercing damage to those within the vicinity. Additionally, victims may suffer from the Tainted Wounds debuff which inhibits healing until the taint is purged.


    The Abyssal Fission is an effective medium and long-range missile, but its weakness is that it is not particularly suited for short-range combat. The superheating of the Demon-Forged Titanium rod is required for it to be effective. If the target is too close, it will not heat quickly enough to ignite. The specialised shrapnel payload has been insulated and coated with a secondary kinetic-based igniter to increase the missile’s range.


    Range: 300-2,000 metres.


    Durability: 75/75


    The new missiles had greater range and packed a much heavier punch than our existing arsenal. More than double what the Hellstrikes were capable of with the added plus of a status debuff. We ran a few tests on the flight down and the results were impressive. We could have brought Scargiver’s assault to a halt from the bay if these missiles had been at our disposal.


    Half of the ship’s launchers had been upgraded to fire the new Abyssal Fission Missiles. They would be needed against Titus’ fleet.


    A dungeon ship the age and size of The Levithan’s Curse was several orders of magnitude more powerful than Marena’s Mercy.


    The other half of the ship’s launchers would continue to use the earlier Hellstrike variety, for when a bit more finesse was required. I never thought I would be saying that.


    Anastasia had been keeping my seat warm and scooched over to the armrest when I swept onto the Bridge. The battle for Dallas was already up on the multiple viewers. “How are you holding up? Any unexpected complications,” she whispered in my ear.


    “Nothing major,” I reassured her. “My reactions are a split-second off from what I’m used to, barely noticeable, though.”


    “Tell me if anything changes.”


    There was none of Ana’s usual sass in her tone or words. She knew how precarious the situation was. This could go wrong in so many ways and leave us at the mercy of a man whom I knew had none. But this was the only path I could foresee that could end with us getting everything we wanted. Any other outcome, even ones which saw us survive, would only delay the inevitable ignominious end of the faction in death or slavery. This was the only shot to be truly free of them all.


    Up on the screen, the battle unfolded. Seven large Dread Scourge battleships had passed through the gate. The hulls of three of them bore the same shimmer of black as my two vessels. Evidence that dungeon ships had already been engaged in the fray. They were the only three vessels aloft. The other four had extended ‘land legs’ and were in the process of grinding their way through the centre of Dallas.


    Several Lamer warships around the gate were already smoking ruins. They hadn’t given quite as good as they got, but two of the four landbound Scourge vehicles showed signs of significant damage and started to fall behind the less scathed pair.


    “Are any of them the Leviathan’s Curse?”


    Crynn who had taken the helm looked back at me and knew what I was asking without further elaboration. “No, two are shard ships of hers and the third, Cold of the Grave, belongs to an enslaved captain. The Curse is three times the size of any of those three.”


    That was worrying, the two shard vessels were as big as Mercy and the Grave ship was probably two marks larger. “Understood, in that case, once we are in range, target our new missiles on the enslaved captain’s vessel. His ship is the most advanced and therefore the deadliest. Unless the Curse comes through in which case we go after her with everything we’ve got.”


    “Aye, sir.”


    The Lamers were doing their level best to prevent that from happening, though.


    Most of their artillery rained down on the location of the gate. I gave thanks to the invisible sky beings that Shana hadn’t tried to do anything foolish like try and hold or protect it. We knew once the gate was established it wouldn’t take long for the Liberation Army to find it. A huge circular gate large enough for ships to pass through tends to stick out on the skyline. We would only have a short window of access before they claimed ownership and made Nazz’s job impossible.


    Besides, the Saurian woman had been dead on her feet and running on fumes anyway. I don’t think she was capable of hanging on any longer, not when she knew the end was within sight.


    Marena’s Mercy had got close enough that I could feel Shana clearly through our bond. She was moving westward, back to the basement with the hidden waypoint, taking care to evade combat zones. But I knew the elf too well and worry gnawed at my heart. When things looked dire, and there would come a point in the coming conflict when everything appeared lost, she would come out of hiding and try to save me.


    That couldn’t be allowed to happen.


    Shana would be supremely pissed off with me but for only the second time since we met, I used the soulbond to compel her actions.


    Shana, I want you to return to Stormblade Harbour without delay. Once home, you will stay there, no matter what occurs here. You are not to come back, nor order or suggest anyone else do so in your place.


    The message was carried across the ether through Clarion’s Call and my will pulsed along our bond to make it clear this was not a choice.


    She didn’t waste any time before using the Shattered Canon to send back a sharply worded reply. Torin, what the hell are you doing? We agreed nobody would perform any stupid self-sacrifices. That includes you.


    She was not stupid and quickly understood why I would compel her actions.


    I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.


    Shana didn’t leave it there, but I was able to partition off her communications without rudely cutting her off.


    <I’ll keep her in the loop via Quinn.>


    “Thanks, Quix.”


    The Liberation Army’s attempt to wreck the gate or disable it sufficiently to prevent more Dread Scourge vessels from getting through had been unsuccessful.


    In short order, the wreckage of four more of their landbound warships, holed by dozens of weapon strikes, all aflame with plumes of thick, black smoke billowing into the air, obscured the gate and made it difficult to see. Not enough that I couldn’t catch sight of the shimmer of activation.


    An eighth Scourge ship shot out like it was fired from a cannon. This new vessel was smaller than the others and one both Crynn and I recognised.


    “The Malignant Cutter,” she gasped with a hint of forlorn sadness.


    It was the scout ship that Crynn had commanded when she came to Earth. Titus had demanded its return as part of our deal. Destroying a ship Crynn knew so well and deeply cared about would be painful. I wanted to reassure her; say we would avoid destroying it if possible. But if everything went to plan, the Cutter would be no more by the end of the day, and I couldn’t bring myself to utter the comforting lie.


    The Cutter was fast and manoeuvrable and must have had an upgrade since we last saw her because she could now fly. The smaller ship darted across the city skyline, weaving between what remained of the skyscrapers and started to strafe the ground troops who had been amassing for an assault. Presumably for a last-ditch attack on the gate.


    The Liberation Army had been fortunate in some ways. The majority of their forces had already been moved up from Houston and San Antonio. The southern half of Texas was fully under their control and their troubles had been concentrated in the north where Raven’s hired guns had been carrying out hit-and-run raids. This suited my plan; I didn’t want the Libbers or the Scourge gaining an upper hand too quickly. The more lumps they took out of one another, the better it would be for the Shattered Storm and Earth as a whole.


    To aid in that endeavour, Nazz had hidden the equivalent of a few trojan worms in the gate’s programming before we brought it online. Their presence slowed but didn’t halt the Scourge’s passage onto Earth.


    “Anastasia, slow our approach a little. I don’t want to get involved in the main battle too early.”


    Ana cackled beside me and hopped off the side of the chair and rubbed her hands with glee. “I have just the excuse to make it believable.”


    The viewer zoomed in on the outskirts of the city below. We were passing over the McKinney suburb and the outer defences of the Liberation Army positioned there. The troops had been in the process of pulling back and joining the fight in the city centre, but the appearance of two more flying raiders in the skies above had left them betwixt and between. Some of them pushed forward, following the orders they’d been given, others turned back. Either for the greater perceived safety or to man the defences.


    “Storm Raider, slow to half speed and descend, we are going in for a bombing run. I’ve been itching to see how the changes to the droppers work. And other burning questions like, will a torpedo explode if it’s dropped from the air.”


    “Maybe,” I chuckled along. “We didn’t have a chance to test it. Let’s find out. Also, don’t forget to rouse Sheamus from wherever he’s lurking. I’m sure he has a few new toys he’d like to throw over the side and try out.”


    “Good idea. I almost forgot.”


    The inertia of the ship rocked me forward gently as we descended over the next fifteen or so seconds.


    Anastasia grabbed hold of the hub table, started to type in her preferred attack pattern, and took control of the situation without needing my input. “Kristoff, I’m gonna’ do a bombing run and target the runners. You drop your payload on the walls and the vehicles they’ve got lined up down there ever so invitingly.”


    “Roger. We’ll catch up with you once it is done.”


    “Sheamus are you ready?”


    “Are ya kidding me? I was born ready!” His voice crackled over the intercom.


    It hadn’t even been a minute; had Sheamus been waiting for this moment the whole time? Probably.


    “Bombs away,” Anastasia announced.


    Thudding sounds came from above and below us as the droppers up on the top deck launched their explosive charges and the torpedo tubes discharged their contents.


    The torpedoes hit first and did not work very effectively. They popped out and the inertia of the vessel carried them a small distance before they angled downwards and dropped like a stone. If anything, they moved too fast and they cratered into the ground before the demon-forged steel rods had time to properly heat up. The damage they did at the point of impact was significant, though. It just didn’t have a lot of range. One of the torpedoes was a direct hit on a retreating eagle chariot and practically vapourised it, but none of the rest did much but kill the handful of Lamer soldiers they landed on.


    The droppers were much better because this was what they were designed for. The spread of the explosive packages they distributed was much better. These bombs landed after the torpedoes. Probably because they were less aerodynamic in shape and had slightly further to fall having been thrown from the side of the ship.


    The charges tore through old-world buildings and fleeing Lamers with equal ferocity. Sadly, it wasn’t as effective against the chariots that were part of the column we bombed. A few were knocked off kilter, but the dropper charges didn’t have the penetrating power to finish them off.


    But we weren’t done. Sheamus had spent the last half a day tinkering with the splinter gun emplacements on the upper deck converting them into the equivalent of rocket launchers using his blunderbuss as a blueprint.


    When it came to blowing shit up, Sheamus was an unadulterated genius. He’d correctly anticipated the effects of both the droppers and the torpedoes and timed his rocket barrage to follow in their wake. Just as the charioteers believed they had survived the onslaught, another volley screamed from above and burrowed or melted through the hulls, blowing the chariots to smithereens.


    “They won’t be getting back up after that one,” his chuckle came through the comms which Anastasia had left open.


    Before we could answer him, a chariot three times the size of any we had seen before, and much more ornately decorated in gold and silver, streaked across the sky.


    My brow furrowed with mild concern at the new development. “They’ve got flying chariots. Why haven’t we seen any of those before?”


    I needn’t have worried. The sky-chariot was alone and the moment the pilot caught sight of Marena’s Mercy, it altered course and flew away from our position. Our missile gunners fired a few reaction shots at the sky chariot, but she was travelling too fast to get a proper bead on and they only managed to mildly buffet the aerial vehicle with flak and dirty up her pristine paintwork somewhat.


    “Damn it, we missed,” Anastasia raged. “Bringing her around. We’ll get the bastard.”


    “Belay that,” I commanded and pointed to one of the viewing screens that remained centred on the gate. A huge dungeon ship had just emerged from the portal. Twice the size of anything else on the battlefield including Marena’s Mercy. So large it shouldn’t have been able to pass through the smallest size of gates. That’s magic for you.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    “That’s definitely my father’s ship,” Crynn confirmed.


    The Leviathan’s Curse had entered the fray. The endgame and the most difficult part of the plan was almost upon us.


    “Let the chariot go, it can be hunted down later. The Curse needs to be our focus, and we can’t go haring off in another direction. Prepare the engines for a burst of full power and get every weapon we have on board ready.”


    “Aye, sir!” Came a chorus of voices.


    Almost the entirety of my focus was on the Titus’ flagship, but just as Ana shifted the viewing screen centred on the sky-chariot off to the side, I noticed a streak of white and crimson hurtle through the sky and slam into the side of the flying vehicle.


    “Was that Raven?”


    The figure carved through one of the engines and part of the wing and sent the chariot into a careening spin that altered its course. The erratic flight pattern as it flew out of control brought it back within our sphere of influence.


    A second opportunity should we want it that wouldn’t interfere with the primary mission.


    Chapter 34


    Raven


    The battlefield was a tale of chaos and ruin. Ships and artillery emplacements lay in smoking ruins. The sleek black vessels of the invading pirate fleet did battle with the bulkier, white and gold emblazoned vehicles that belonged to the Liberation Army.


    Raven soared above, the swirling and shifting thermals buffeting her in the air. Her senses were finely attuned to the cries of injustice and disharmony screamed at her from all directions. To the north of the city, two new ships cut through the sky. The scent that wafted from them was a familiar one. Carter and his people, the architects of this carnage had entered the fray as promised.


    Acting on instinct, Raven drew her fiery blade from its scabbard and snarled in the pirate’s direction. She didn’t know why her reaction to him was so visceral. It almost pained her to admit that when comparing the stench of evil that emanated from the three sides in the battle his was the least pungent, but it was true.


    Speaking of less pungent. Traces of another familiar scent licked at the edges of her awareness. Where Carter flew across the city from the Northeast, the Nasty Bitch and her crew trundled through the almost abandoned Northwest. Raven was gratified that Captain Deathstare and Glastos would witness first-hand how correct she was.


    They could have seized a quarter of the city had they listened to her!


    However, she could also see that the Nasty Bitch had come alone and that was beyond foolish in the circumstances. The inherent contradiction of that critique did not strike a chord in the young woman, so far gone was she in her need to punish an evildoer or fifty. The emotional turmoil that swirled in her heart was too raw and violent for that degree of clarity.


    And then a fresh smell of malice broke through any other reverie. A sky-chariot, one of the largest Raven had seen jetted upwards from the Liberation Army’s primary headquarters. Rather than join the ground-based squadrons that had engaged the pirate vessels, it hit the afterburners and shot northwards directly towards Carter.


    Had they chosen to take on Carter by themselves?


    No. It became clear they hadn’t been aware of Carter’s approach, and they quickly detoured to avoid him and that brought them closer to where Raven hovered in the air above them. Carter’s vessel took a few potshots at the sky chariot but seemed content to let it go.


    Raven could not allow that.


    The stench that seeped from this ship was the strongest she had ever encountered. One of the men aboard this chariot was pure unadulterated evil. He could not be allowed to escape and live for another day. The rest of the occupants were not much better.


    Without thinking any further, her wings pulled in and she dive-bombed the escaping vessel.


    Raven tried to aim for the windowed cockpit, but the sky chariot was moving too fast. She just missed and slammed into the wing instead. The impact did more damage to her shoulder than the chariot, but there was a dent in the gold of the filigreed adornments of the small ship. The wind wailed in her ears and threatened to tear her off the perch, but the talons of her feet dug in and provided secure enough purchase.


    Enough to swing Flamebearer, her mighty sword of cleansing. The sword had been specifically designed to bypass armour and other protections.


    The sword cleaved through the casing of one of the engines on that side. The roaring of the thrust guttered out and the chariot veered to one side from the sudden power imbalance. Raven brought the fiery blade down several more times and chopped through the aerofoil the chariot used for guidance, and this sent the vessel into a violent spin.


    Fighting off dizziness, she could see the out-of-control chariot had come back under the shadow of Marena’s Mercy. A set of precision missiles shot down from the ship above and slammed into the vehicle. The impact of the weapons missed her, but the shudder they evoked from the chariot almost dislodged her.


    Her fury at Torin Carter grew once more.


    The blasted pirate had almost knocked her away from her quarry.


    Why couldn’t the nosy, thieving bastard mind his own damn business?


    The anger was quickly quenched upon the realisation that the chariot’s second engine had been the pirate’s primary target. Without power, the small ship careened towards the ground fully out of control. Raven’s talons released their grip, she spread her wings and let them carry her away from the rapidly descending chariot.


    She watched with glee as the sky chariot impacted the side of a building with extreme force and caused much of the upper brickwork to topple down on top of the vehicle when it fell and thumped into the sidewalk below. Even if the wheels it possessed were still in working order, it wouldn’t be hauling itself out of the rubble any time soon.


    A hatch on the side of the chariot not covered in debris popped open and fell onto the brick-dust-covered ground. A man in blazing white armour with slick-backed black hair jumped from the wreckage, seemingly unscathed from the crash.


    This man was the source of the wicked stench that assaulted Raven from every direction. However, what sickened her the most was his passing resemblance to her father. A rage and fury so intense burst into life and she prepared to sweep down and attack.


    “Marshal Campion! Wait for me,” a reedy voice called out from within the vessel.


    So, the man’s name was Campion. Raven had heard of him from some of the survivors they had rescued. A man who claimed to fight for the oppressed by inflicting even greater oppression on all and greatly profited. The worst kind of scum imaginable.


    She swooped down, sword aloft, poised to strike the butcher down with a single blow to the back of the neck.


    But Campion had not risen to one of the highest positions in the Liberation Army ranks by nepotism, bootlicking, or good fortune. He was a veteran of a hundred campaigns and countless more battles. Tens of thousands of penitents had met their end because of him. The marshal’s is steely uncompromising gaze was the last thing they witnessed. You didn’t survive the crucible of combat or the even murkier world of politics without developing a keen sense for danger.


    Campion sensed the incoming blow before it had a chance to land. A white shield appeared above his head and intercepted the descending Flamebearer.


    The shield shimmered with a silvery glow where it was struck, and the flames of Raven’s majestic sword sputtered and were extinguished.


    “So, you are the aggravating local bitch that has been causing the unworthy within my ranks so many problems,” he spat in disgust. “A Justicar. I should have known. Your kind is truly amongst the most pathetic. Weak, misguided fools without the courage or conviction to affect real change, all of you. It appears the Gods have blessed you this day and your miserable existence will have a modicum of value, after all. Prepare for your end, your death shall fuel the furtherance of someone truly dedicated to justice in its purest form.”


    Raven hadn’t waited for the slick-haired macho-man to finish his monologuing and struck again with her blade. Flamebearer may have lost its fiery timbre, but the steel was plenty sharp and capable of slicing off this cur’s wagging tongue or any other body part it managed to strike.


    Campion summoned a flail to his free hand. It had a long wooden haft with a short chain connected to a foot-long studded metal club. He intercepted the attempted thrust from Raven adroitly, catching the blade with the tip of the flail’s haft and letting the chain swing around so that the tip of the metal club thumped into the back of her hand.


    The strength of Campion’s counter blow left Raven’s right hand numb, and a debuff notification flashed across her vision. The marshal wasn’t finished and yanked the flail suddenly. The sword was pulled from her numbed fingers easily and clattered to the floor when he swished the flail in an arc away from Raven only to whip it back towards her with frightening speed.


    Quickly, she backed up to avoid the counterstrike and only just avoided being brained by the skilled flowing movement of her attacker.


    “The flail is a difficult weapon to master,” Campion commented like an instructor as he stepped over rubble adeptly and kept up pursuit of the winged woman. “But once you have, it is incredibly versatile and effective.”


    To make things worse, four fully armed Lamer warriors jumped out of the burning wreckage with a fifth, weaker, old celestial scrambling to exit the downed vehicle behind them.


    The four warriors grinned viciously at her and summoned a selection of gleaming weapons.


    Despite what some may think, Raven knew when she was beaten. Campion had proved a tougher nut to crack than she initially assumed and now he had backup. She turned away and pushed off the ground only to come thudding down into the hard sidewalk a moment later.


    Campion had anticipated her exit manoeuvre and activated an ability that enhanced his speed and reflexes to superhuman levels. The flail flicked out almost faster than the eye could see and connected just above the joint which attached a wing to Raven’s shoulder blades. The crack of the bones in the wing breaking was audible and swiftly followed by a scream of agony when the woman instinctively tried to flap the same wing and came crashing back down to Earth.


    The Marshal didn’t waste his opportunity. As Raven tried to crawl away on her hands and knees, the broken wing dragged along the floor causing her enormous pain, he stepped up behind her, raised the flail above his head and brought it down on her other wing.


    “I call my flail Bonecruncher,” he continued in the conversational tone that was almost drowned out by the grunts of agony from his victim. “I’m sure you can understand why.” To make his point clear, Campion slammed the flail into Raven’s ankle and elicited another shriek of torment.


    He didn’t stop there. Campion broke the other ankle and then went to work ruining Raven’s white wings even further. When he was finished, they were no longer scarlet-tipped merely because of the natural feather colouring.


    With Raven broken and bloody on the ground before him, Campion drew in a deep breath. He’d been joined by the four surviving crewmen of the chariot. He could practically taste the hate and lust that wafted from their auras. “Help yourself boys, there is plenty of poultry for all.”


    The warriors sniggered at the Marshal’s joke and moved in to take their pound of flesh from the woman who had both ruined their precious chariot and stymied their escape attempt.


    Their foolish lust for vengeance suited Campion perfectly.


    He would be able to slip away and by the time they realised he was gone; it would be too late for them to follow. A group would be easier to spot and some of his camouflage and escape items wouldn’t work if he had a retinue in tow. The only hiccough was the wheezing scripter, Markus, who hadn’t joined the others for the butchery of the helpless.


    Well, it was about time the scripter had an ‘accident’ anyway. It’s not like Campion could allow the weasel’s blackmail from earlier to go unpunished.


    The Marshal was to be surprised however when Markus drew a small blade from a scabbard at his waist. “Die scum!” he screamed and stabbed Campion in the stomach. The sheer surprise of the attack had been enough for the scripter to land the blow.


    ***


    Torin


    The sky-chariot crashed into a building below us and I watched on. I couldn’t help myself.


    It had been Ana who fired the missiles that took the craft out. “You could have hit Raven,” I admonished her.


    She shrugged her shoulders. “As if. If I wanted to hit Raven, then the mental swan-woman would have been basted and browned like a Christmas Goose.”


    “You ate goose for Christmas?”


    “Goose, partridge, pheasant, duck. If it had feathers and meat it ended up on the table at Christmas. Poppa liked to have his pick. But the goose is more traditional in the motherland. Of course, they celebrate Christmas on the 7^th of January, so I’d celebrate in Cali with Turkey and then fly home and do it again a couple of weeks later.”


    “I sometimes forget how wealthy you used to be.”


    Ana pointed both thumbs back at herself. “Rich bitch and lovin’ it.”


    The witty repartee was interrupted by events on the ground. The close-combat fight was not going well for Raven.


    “Damn it, that bastard is taking his time and torturing her.”


    Ana sighed beside me and rolled her eyes. “We have time for you to go play hero if you’re quick and I help.”


    “Regina would be heartbroken if we let Raven be killed.”


    “Yeah, you’re entirely motivated by Regina’s feelings.” Anastasia rolled her eyes in disbelief and gestured with one hand. A fresh hole appeared in the Bridge’s wall that led out onto the deck. Before I left, she attached a cord to my waist. “This will act like a bungee rope, except it won’t snap you back into the air immediately because I’ll be in control of the momentum. Do your thing but be quick about it. We have a date with the Curse, and it won’t take her long to despatch the Lamer defenders between us.”


    “The mission comes first. If I can’t resolve this quick, haul me back,” I told her gravely, rushed out the gap and leapt over the side of the ship.


    “It’s not like I have a choice. The ship can’t leave you behind,” she complained into the empty air.


    I shifted my posture as if I were diving and hurtled through the air so fast, that I barely had time to think about how little I liked heights before the rope snapped taut and slowed the descent to something that wouldn’t pancake me on impact. Marena’s Mercy was maybe half a kilometre above Raven’s predicament. A fair distance, but the ship remained close enough.


    I’d recognised Raven’s attacker from Trisha’s regular reports. It was Marshal Campion himself. It didn’t surprise me that the rat was fleeing the sinking ship.


    He’d finished thoroughly breaking Raven’s wings by the time I’d made my leap. She lay in a crumpled heap barely able to move while four jackals moved in. Two of the warriors literally had jackal heads. I might be too late; the necessary slowing of my fall would give them a split second to tear the fallen angel apart before I reached her position.


    The spell Mutiny in the Ranks left my lips. The four warriors, the marshal, and the old man stumbling out of the wreckage met the minimum requirement of six for the spell to be cast. Notifications pinged back to me that two of the six had their minds successfully warped by the spell.


    The old man pulled a knife, screamed at the marshal and launched himself forward. He stabbed him in the gut, only to be battered into insensibility by the man’s dangerous flail as if the stomach wound was barely bothersome. This seemed like a bit of a waste of the spell’s effect, but including the old codger had been a necessity to meet the spell’s requirements.


    Fortunately for Raven, two of the six targets had been affected. The other was one of the jackal-headed assailants looming over her. He took advantage of his fellow’s being distracted with the wounded Angleblood and used the opportunity to bury the point of his blade into the neck of the warrior standing closest to him. It wasn’t an insta-kill and the wounded warrior fought back almost immediately. Aiming his mace for the canine snout of the betrayer.


    However, the surprise did delay the murderous attacks from the other two long enough for me to drop in behind them and lay about with the Greatsteel Goreblade.


    Raven was too gravely wounded to assist, but she managed to hook her hand around my ankle and that let me drag her clear of the fray. The rough pull likely hurt like a motherfucker, but Raven’s willpower was made of stern stuff. She wouldn’t have stubbornly resisted my devilish charms for so long otherwise.


    The two-on-three fight didn’t last long, and I didn’t have to concern myself with keeping track of Mutiny’s timer. Jackal-head and the man he savaged first managed to kill one another and with surprise on my side, the other two were soon lying bleeding and dying on the floor before me.


    The old celestial had been left entertaining his commander.


    “Impressive,” a cultured voice called out to me.


    Campion stood over the body of the old man and was in the process of wiping clean the metal club of his flail with a yellow cloth. “But you will find me an altogether more difficult challenge. Especially as you are now alone.”


    I had a couple of charges of Shatter left and could spare one to take out the leader of the Lamer army. I needed to keep one or two in reserve for Titus, though.


    “He’s not alone dipshit,” Ana’s cackle carried on the air.


    Campion couldn’t help but glance skywards just in time to see the forms of Slicer and Ripper, Ana’s two golems, descend on him from above. He tried to dodge out of the way and counterstrike, but it was too late, the trio were moving too fast.


    The dungeon avatar had strapped herself into the saddle of Ripper and flicked her whip around the High-Marshal’s throat before the words finished leaving her lips and started to drain his Hit Points. Meanwhile, Ripper’s bulk flattened him, and Slicer intercepted the flail, taking the hit. The golem wrapped its prehensile tail around the shaft and started to oscillate, sapping the flail’s durability with extreme rapidity.


    Not to be left out, I sprinted over to the battle and added strikes from my sword whenever part of Campion’s body protruded from under Ripper’s bulk as it stomped him. The Marshal did not go down easy and smashed sizeable chunks of crystal out of the two golem’s hides, but inevitably his blows weakened and then petered out until they were no more.


    When the loot nimbus surrounded his body, I knew we had won.


    “Damn, that was harder than expected,” Ana announced cheerfully and hopped from Ripper’s back. She didn’t delay and scampered over to Raven with me close on her heels. Her hand rested on the Angelblood woman’s brow. “She is in a bad way,” Ana relayed while her hand glowed white and transferred the Hit Points she’d drained from Campion. “Her wings in particular. That flail of his was a high-tier weapon. Well, it was until Slicer gave it the buzzsaw treatment.”


    The shaft of the flail lay in shavings on the floor. But the chain and club element had survived. It might be repairable. Enough that it would be worthwhile taking with us regardless of its current condition.


    “Hey little Miss Justice, you better remember who it was that saved your ass and show some proper appreciation in the future.”


    Ana was berating Raven whose eyes had fluttered open after the investment of some fresh Hit Points. “Th…thank you,” she managed to say before passing out again.


    Not a derisory word or a hint of poorly disguised venom. That had been a genuine, no-hidden-barbs expression of gratitude. Will wonders never cease?


    “That’s a start,” Ana huffed. “What do we do with her, Torin? Things are going to get hairy, very soon. Marena’s Mercy is not going to be a safe place for somebody in this bad of a shape. She’ll die up there if we take her with us. And we can’t spare the time to take her elsewhere. By all rights, we should be barrelling towards thee Curse already. Kristoff is back and ready to go.”


    The Lamers had established some kind of scrambling tech that interfered with the cell nodes. We couldn’t use them to send Raven back to Stormblade Harbour until we left the vicinity and we couldn’t do that until Titus had been dealt with.


    “We can take her from here.” A new, slightly out-of-breath voice answered for me.


    A gruff-looking canid man, a halfling woman, and a young human with sandy-blonde hair ran into view from behind the smoking wreckage of Campion’s downed sky chariot.


    “And who might you be?” I challenged, though I had a fairly good idea based on their descriptions.


    “I’m Brock Deathstare, captain of the Nasty Bitch,” In the distance I could make out the shape of the landbound vessel navigating around the debris in the roads a few hundred metres further back. “This is my first mate, Lyra,” Brock continued. “And the young fella is Glastos, Raven’s right-hand man.”


    “Captive, technically,” Glastos gasped and warily took in the surroundings, edging away from the silent but very deadly Slicer and Ripper.


    Brock waved the distinction off. “We came in to try and talk some sense into the lass.”


    Raven chose that moment to wake up and her hand gripped mine, “…tr…trust…” and that was all she could manage with her current energy levels.


    That would have to do. It’s not like we had the time to arrange a better alternative. If Raven trusted them, then we would have to as well.


    “Get her back to your ship and then get the fuck out of the city. All hell is about to break loose and there are no guarantees anybody still at ground zero will see tomorrow.”


    “You won’t get any disagreements from me,” Glastos answered, and giving the two golems a wide berth, made his way over. With Brock’s help, they lifted the broken woman into his arms, futilely trying to avoid nudging her badly damaged wings.


    I nodded to him and then Anastasia tapped my elbow as a signal. The two of us, plus the golems, were reeled back onto the ship above.


    The Levithan’s Curse had left the area around the gate. Its cannons roared and left death and destruction in its wake. Most of the Lamer ships had been taken out shortly after the Curse’s arrival. The Curse was simply too powerful for them to stand up to its might.


    Across the city, I could see the surviving population, many enslaved or held captive by the Lamers fleeing for their lives in all directions. It was like watching ants crawling from an overturned the nest. How many of them would survive, I couldn’t say. Many would not, but if we managed to pull off the plan, then at least a few of them would have a chance.


    Everywhere you looked, there were more people. The reason for the Cutter’s presence became readily apparent. It was scooping up the potential slaves while the more heavily armoured vessels slaughtered the Lamer soldiers. It was absolute carnage on an industrial scale. Win or lose, little of Dallas would be left afterwards and I doubted any survivors would choose to remain.