Ketty Jay 04 - The Ace of Skulls (43 page)

There were three entrances to the room, and two large windows in the other wall, looking out across the chasm. The lights of the hamlet were visible out there among the flurrying snowflakes, nestled in a hollow in the land, with tree-lined banks rising like shoulders around it. Crake suddenly wished he was out there, with the others. With Samandra.

‘Do you think they can really kill you with their gaze?’ Plome said, as he was gathering up his equipment. He gave a scared little laugh. ‘Surely just a story to scare people, hmm?’

‘Not just a story,’ said Kyne, his voice full of strange harmonics. He was checking the large-bore pistol that he carried. ‘Some are stronger than others. Some can frighten a man to death.’

‘Oh,’ said Plome.

Crake was strapping on a heavy backpack, containing the device which he’d newly dubbed his ‘sonic flux emitter’. It wasn’t quite as snappy as ‘flux thrower,’ but he thought it less vulnerable to mockery. It was wired to an improved battery given to him by Kyne, which lasted much longer than the old chemical things he’d been lugging about. ‘The key is to hit the Imperator before he knows we’re here,’ he said. ‘If he gets wind of us, he can use his power.’

‘Right,’ said Plome. He shouldered his own backpack.

Crake ran a mental inventory. He had wide-spectrum ‘screamer’ spheres on his belt, to disorient daemons. Damper spheres to negate their abilities. Small portable batteries for both. Then there was the sonic flux emitter, which he’d use to zero in on the Imperator’s frequency and paralyse him with crippling pain. He carried that. The others had harmonic arc generators to ensnare the Imperator –
if
they could nail his frequency in time. And last but not least, they had dynamite.

Crake couldn’t hit a barn door with a gun, and neither could Plome. Besides, if the Imperators were anything like Manes, it would take more than a couple of bullets in the chest to bring them down. Massive damage or a headshot would be necessary.

Their packs were bulky and cumbersome, and everything but the dynamite had to be wired in to the batteries that they carried with them. They wouldn’t be able to move fast, and it was easy to get tangled up. Inelegant, but it was all they had. Even with Kyne providing the best equipment money could buy, their arsenal against the daemon was makeshift and clumsy.

‘Ready?’ Crake asked.

Nobody answered.

Through the lens of his spyglass, Frey watched the shuttle come slowly into view.

He was hunkered down with Silo in the snow, hidden among the bare trees near the edge of the chasm. Visibility was so poor, they’d been forced to throw on coats and get closer to get a good view of the mansion. He followed the small dark shadow as it took on form and substance, sliding out of the grey murk. The thin sound of its thrusters came to him on the wind.

‘They’ve fallen for it,’ he said.

For the first time since they’d escaped the Awakener base in the Barabac Delta, he felt excitement stir within him. These past days had been like living in a wasteland: dead horizons surrounded him. An empty hopelessness had sunk deep into his bones and made them heavy. Food and drink brought him no joy. Even Shine wasn’t much help, and Ashua had smashed his last bottle anyway.

He felt a twinge of embarrassment as he remembered making a pass at her in his cabin, but a twinge was all it was. She, at least, had quickly shelved her resentment with the stoicism of a young woman who was used to it. She grew up around violent boys, after all: it probably wasn’t the first time someone had tried it on.

The incident with Amalicia was far worse, but even that pain had faded quickly once he’d got away from her. It was hard to feel much of anything any more. Strong emotions were swallowed quickly, lost to the bleakness.

Trinica
.

He’d been undone. He’d lost his chance. There would be no salvation for either of them. No restitution for what he’d done to her. She’d been taken and turned, and he didn’t know whether he could take and turn her back. And even though he was desperate to rescue her, he’d never really believed it was possible. She was beyond his reach now. He just wanted to kill himself trying.

Yet now he saw the shuttle, he felt hope again. An Imperator – it
had
to be! And if Crake’s wild plan came off, they’d have a way to fight the Imperators, and a way to recover the woman he loved. He didn’t pretend to understand the method, but he trusted Crake enough to take him at his word.

With the spyglass fixed to his eye, he watched the shuttle come in. And he dared to believe again.

At least for a moment or two.

‘Ain’t right, Cap’n,’ Silo said.

He took the spyglass away and wiped wet snow from his face. ‘What isn’t?’

‘They comin’ in the day,’ he said. ‘Crake’s brother, they came at night. Took him out quiet, so no one knew. Look, they landin’ on the roof. Anyone in that mansion, they’d be sure to hear ’em.’

Frey hadn’t considered that. ‘Maybe they don’t always do it that way,’ he said. ‘Plome doesn’t have children to use as leverage. Might be they plan to go scare him direct.’

‘Might be,’ said Silo. But he didn’t sound convinced.

‘What’s up, Cap’n?’ said Crake in his ear. Frey had forgotten about the earcuff.

‘They’re landing on the roof,’ he said. He heard Crake relay the information to his companions.

The shuttle settled itself on the flat roof of the mansion, where there was a small, private landing pad for personal flyers. The shuttle couldn’t have made it here on its own: it was too far from any town. That meant there was a mother craft somewhere in the mountains. Once they had the Imperator, they’d have to get gone before he was missed.

We’re gonna be cutting this awful fine
, he thought, and felt excitement spark in him again. Danger chased away the hollow feeling inside. Suddenly he wanted to get in there, face the Imperator, loose off a round or two. But this was Crake’s show; he was only the support act.

They resumed their watch. Frey shifted in an attempt to relieve the chill. The ramp of the shuttle opened silently in the distance. A black-clad figure emerged. Frey felt the cold become a fraction more profound.

Then another one came out. And another behind that.

‘Oh, shit,’ Frey muttered.

‘What?’ snapped Crake in his ear. He was evidently on edge like the rest of them. ‘Don’t just say ‘‘Oh, shit.’’ It’s not very bloody specific.’

‘There’s three of them,’ said Frey.

‘
Three?
’

‘Three Imperators, Crake! Is that specific enough for you?’

There was a babble of conversation in his ear. Frey tapped one boot anxiously against the other. Three Imperators. He’d never even seen three together before. You didn’t send three Imperators to subdue one little aristocrat, no matter how much he’d pissed you off.

‘You want Jez in there with you? Maybe Pelaru too? They can take care of—’

‘No,’ said Crake. ‘Kyne thinks we can handle them.’

Frey heard a little scream of disbelief in the background, which he assumed was Plome.

‘We’ve got to try, Cap’n. We’re only going to get one chance at this. You put Jez in here and she’ll slaughter the lot of them.’

‘Rather them than you!’ Frey said.

‘Cap’n!’ This was another voice. Malvery, who had the third earcuff. The fourth had been lost with Pinn. ‘Cap’n, we got trouble!’

‘I know! Weren’t you listening?’

‘
More
trouble, Cap’n. This contraption you left me sitting in front of, the gauges are going all over the place.’

It took Frey a moment to work out what he was talking about. Malvery was with the others in the living room of the house. Kyne’s device was registering more engines.

‘How many?’ he demanded. ‘How many aircraft?’

Malvery consulted with Samandra and came back to him quickly. ‘Three. And by the way the gauges are going, they’re big noisy bastards too. Comin’ in at speed.’

Frey swore loudly and bitterly. Rage swelled up inside him. He pulled off his earcuff, balled his fist and thumped at the ground. ‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’

Silo got to his feet and pulled his captain up. ‘Ain’t time for that, Cap’n. We gotta move!’

The two of them ran back up the road towards the house. Crake, Kyne and Plome would have to fend for themselves. Frey had his own problems.

They thought they were laying a trap for the Awakeners. But the Awakeners had laid a trap for them.

As he ran, he heard a sly, silken voice in his head. The voice of a woman he’d thought he knew. ‘
I suppose I am a vengeful person after all
.’

Well, he couldn’t say Amalicia hadn’t warned him.

Twenty-Nine

In the Snow – Too Many Enemies – Kyne’s Eyes – A Trap is Laid – Crake Reaches

B
y the time Frey and Silo reached the courtyard, they could hear the engines on the wind. The others were hurrying out of the house, bundled up in coats and carrying shotguns and pistols. Samandra was yelling at the crew, pointing them this way and that. Snow flurried round the hamlet, obscuring their vision and blowing in their eyes.

‘Frey!’ she cried as he arrived. ‘You’re with me! Come on!’

‘Come on where?’ Frey called back.

‘Landing pad!’

Frey wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone. Even in a crisis, he was roused to indignity. ‘Now hold your arse for a second, Bree, this is
my
crew!’

Bree took a breath to swear at him, then decided diplomacy would be quicker. ‘I need to get to that landing pad and get the Wrath airborne,’ she explained. ‘Rest of us need to dig in here ready for when they come at us. I could do with another pair of hands on board, and Grudge is better here with that cannon of his. Now you want to stay or come?’

‘What about the
Ketty Jay
and the Firecrow? Bess is still locked up in the hold!’

‘You ain’t gonna make it to them in time!’ she said.

She was right. Their best chance lay in getting the heavily armoured Wrath off the ground. The
Ketty Jay
and the Firecrow were on the other side of a forested rise, through heavy snow. But the road between here and the landing pad was dangerously exposed, and he wondered if they should scatter off into the trees instead of staying in the hamlet. That would leave the bridge undefended, though, and Crake and the others were in there, and—

‘
Now
, Frey!’ Samandra snapped.

The crew were looking at him expectantly. He made a decision. Any was better than none.

‘We need to get to the landing pad and get the Wrath airborne,’ he said with authority. ‘Rest of you need to dig in here ready for when they come at us.’

Bree rolled her eyes, grabbed his arm and pulled him away towards the road. He heard Silo barking orders behind him, dividing up the crew into defensive positions.

Three Imperators. Three aircraft, and who knew how many guns and men? Frey and his crew knew something they shouldn’t, and the Awakeners were going to make damned sure they didn’t live to tell about it.

Frey and Samandra raced out of the hamlet, boots crunching in the snow. The road cut through the colourless landscape, winding between steep banks. On their left was a forest of bare trees; to their right, the trees had been cleared for meadows.

Frey caught sight of something out there in the whirling whiteness. A bulky grey shadow sinking towards the meadows. A troop transport, by the shape of it, probably packed with mercs or Sentinels or both.

‘Malvery!’ he yelled over the whine and roar of thrusters. ‘They’re coming at you from the south! Tell Silo!’

‘Right-o,’ said Malvery, and he sounded so matter-of-fact that Frey felt himself heartened. He believed in his crew, in their competence and spirit. Silo was a good leader; he’d left them in capable hands. No matter what the odds, they could win out. They always had a chance. He had to believe that.

‘Frey! Heads up!’ Samandra came to a halt, pointing at the sky. Ahead of them, coming from the direction of the landing pad, another craft was taking shape. It pushed out of the gloom, coming in low and steady. Frey stopped next to Samandra, peering at it, unsure of what sort of danger it represented. Was it, too, coming in to put down troops?

A gust of wind pushed the snow aside, and he saw it. His heart sank. It hung in the sky like some enormous bird of prey. A Besterfield Predator. A military grade attack craft. And they were right in its path.

He felt Samandra slam into him just as the Predator’s rotary cannons opened up. They crashed into a snowdrift and a hail of bullets tore past them, throwing up a long cloud of powder. The Predator soared overhead, following the road towards the hamlet.

Frey found himself on his back on the bank, with Samandra lying on top of him, her face inches from hers. Even amid everything, the softness and warmth of her stirred him. He was inordinately pleased to find that he was still capable.

‘Well, hello,’ he said.

‘In your dreams, pirate,’ she said, and shoved herself off him and back to her feet.

‘Hey! Crake’s a pirate too, you know,’ he said, as he pulled himself free of the drift.

He looked about, but he could barely see a thing for the snow-haze. He wasn’t even certain which direction the landing pad was now. He’d got turned around. It was far too easy to get lost when everything was white.

‘Which way’s the—?’

She held out a hand to shut him up. The rotary cannons had started up again. They heard smashing glass and falling slates as the gunship fired on the hamlet. The sound sucked the humour out of him.

Voices came to them, snatches of barked orders. Soldiers or Sentinels, coming from the other direction. He caught a glimpse of grey figures slipping down the bank. The Awakeners had reached the road. Frey and Samandra had delayed too long; they were cut off from the landing pad.

Samandra grabbed him and thumbed at the north bank. They scrambled up it and into the naked forest, before the army of men coming down the other bank could catch sight of them and shoot them dead.