Vengeful Earth: The Dark Sky Chronicles - Book Two, page 15
But what a magnificent specimen! Cloaked in a skin of glistening, neon-copper scales, the creature’s towering height engulfed the houses on the right-hand side of the street, its girth blocking the view of the river to its left. Every step it took its claw-like feet loosened the cobbles beneath its colossal weight. Its forked tail swayed from left to right, whipping away any stray object unlucky enough to be in its path, just as it had Frankus, knocking over wagons, slicing through bushes, smashing the windows of rooms overlooking the road along which it travelled. Its wings beat the air but the monster had no power to lift such a leaden mass.
But it was the beast’s head that Oscar found the most fascinating; identical to Blod in every way except enlarged in its ugliness; a crested crown, its ball-bearing eyes, its razor-sharp, yellow incisors. He squinted to study the barely-visible ticking cogs and wheels swirling in the monster’s neck as it rotated its head and pressed forward in its path, all under the direction of a concealed engineer, he assumed. The animal looked like it was alive, almost indistinguishable from the real thing.
Oscar continued to drink in Talion’s magnificence of design and build until the creature lowered his bottom jaw and ejected an inferno into a nearby clump of bushes, evicting two terrified residents from their hiding place. They emerged clutching their scorched bottoms as they rushed to douse the flames in the adjacent river, their cries of pain ringing through the humid, spark-filled midnight air. The acrid stench of smoke, laced with miniscule particles of cinder and ash, hung heavy across the town’s rooftops causing Oscar’s straining eyes to smart and weep, and a metallic tang of fear to collect at the back of his throat.
Many residents of Grotnol Town had emerged from the comfort of their homes to investigate the cause of the commotion. The men brandished a plethora of weapons, some conventional and some not so, but all of them looked to Oscar like children’s plastic toys against the backdrop of Talion’s powerful presence. As he watched on, a group approached the monster, fired a few arrows at its flanks, but they were as ineffective as a dressmaker’s pins. Not one found a hold or penetrated its metal hide.
Oscar swallowed away the dryness in his mouth and ran back to the doorway.
‘Come on! We’ve got to make a run for it now or we’ll be toast!’
Chapter Twenty
The Bridge of Grotnol, Grotnol Town, Hadrixia
Oscar led them into the shadows between the edge of the riverbank and the beginnings of the bridge, only to be met by a wave of fighters, their swords raised, their eyes widened in horror as they caught their first glimpse of Talion. The soldiers ignored the four Outsiders in front of them, their attention diverted to the only sight of any consequence.
‘Do you think Sabina’s here?’ Wil whispered, having picked out Flavia and Jania and clearly eager to see Quinn’s sister again.
‘Definitely, now come on, follow me. Quick!’
With Oscar in front, they commenced their crossing. Just as they reached the parapet, three masked figures shot from the northern riverbank, grabbed their arms and guided them swiftly to the other side of the river before rolling into the undergrowth at the foot of the bridge. From behind their disguises appeared a grinning Quinn, Otto and Hayden, their eyes alight with excitement, before Otto and Quinn leapt back to their feet, their swords brandished to meet an oncoming duo of Henxmen.
‘Awesome!’ cried Hayden, copying Wil’s habitual exclamation, smoothing his palms together in satisfaction and then fist-bumping Oscar.
‘Thanks, Hayden.’
‘Get over and hide in that windmill tower. We’ll follow you in a minute!’ Quinn shouted as he swiped his sword across the chest of one of Cornelius’s Henxmen before shooting to the aid of Professor Blythe who was using what looked like one of his own inventions as a weapon. Unfortunately, the blade had been chopped off in two places already by his assailant leaving him fighting with what looked to Oscar like one of his father’s electric drills, the central blade rotating uselessly.
Behind them, a magnificent torrent of flame gushed from Talion’s jaws, scattering fighters of both persuasions from its path as the dragon reached the highest point at the centre of the Bridge of Grotnol. Whenever one of its gigantic claws slammed down onto the bridge the whole structure shook, and it was obvious to all onlookers that the rear operator had lost control of the mechanisms as the beast’s tail performed a sudden, violent swing to the left, knocking stones from the bridge walls tumbling into the river below.
As instructed by Quinn, the Oscar led the way toward the windmill tower, but just as they arrived, they were met by a group of Cornelius’s Henxmen. Not a single one of them had come straight from the Academy; these were experienced fighters. Oscar drew to a halt with Aimie, Wil and Jasmine behind him, and he came face to face with the obnoxious General himself.
‘Ahah, at last we capture the Outsiders! Will you surrender to our custody or do we battle to the death?’ Cornelius growled, anger bubbling through his whole demeanour. He flicked his eyes over Oscar’s shoulder to where Talion had reached the peak of the bridge, only twenty metres behind where the Underlings stood. ‘If you chose not to surrender, Talion will roast your bodies with his next blast.’
‘They will never surrender to you, Cornelius!’
Quinn stepped in the space between them and Cornelius’s Henxmen, his sword held aloft, his flaxen spikes dripping wet from a fall in the river.
‘Nor will we!’ Sabina stepped forward to stand next to her brother and face her father’s traitor, her spine straight, her chin tilted, swiftly followed by Adrog, Jania, Flavia and Janikos and a dozen more of their rebel comrades, to form a line of resistance and protection in front of the four Outsiders. ‘Nor will anyone who believes in a future for Hadrixia, free from oppression and violence.’
‘Then we will watch your friends burn! It will be an entertaining spectacle for my men,’ Cornelius sneered with a malicious glint in his eyes as he turned his head to see his Henxmen grant him an obliging affirmation.
As if to confirm Cornelius’s prediction, Talion expelled another burst of fire-filled breath and commenced its descent from the hump of the bridge, stomping ever closer towards the foursome’s backs. Sabina swivelled on her heels, removed an arrow from her leather quiver, and aimed its tip into the neck of the monster where the operator sat.
‘Don’t hurt it!’ Oscar screamed, unable to stop himself.
‘It’s a machine, Oscar!’ said Wil, dragging him from the scorching trajectory of the last bolt of flame.
‘I know, but—’
The next blast of fire singed Jasmine’s hair. ‘Oh, my hair! My tunic!’ she screamed, patting herself down to kill the glowing embers as they were forced to step forward towards where Cornelius and his Henxmen stood resolute. ‘We have to surrender or we’ll be barbequed!’
Oscar was in a quandary until he saw Aimie reach into her rucksack and extract one of the marble orbs Zara had thrown to them when they were on the wooden platform deep in the Northumbrian forest what felt like years ago.
‘No, Aimie!’
‘It’s a man-made, mechanical tank, Oscar, not a living animal! And the operators are soldiers in Xophicus’ army! If we don’t do something we’ll be burnt alive!’
Before Oscar could object further, Aimie launched the miniature globe onto the bridge, aiming the missile at the feet of Talion. However, when it fell to the ground it did not ignite as Aimie had expected, simply rolled towards the broken wall at the edge of the bridge and toppled into the river.
‘Oh!’
‘Here, let me try.’ Wil relieved Aimie of one of the spheres, rubbed it between his palms, spat on it for good luck, then performed a perfect cricket bowler’s delivery. His aim was spot on and the ball landed in the dragon’s gaping mouth.
‘Oh no! Oh no!’
There was a brief pause in time whilst they waited.
The beast hesitated in its progress, cranked its jaw shut as though attempting to swallow the gobstopper before it swung its head to the right of where they stood. As they watched, the whole of Talion’s head exploded like a copper firework, showering nuts and bolts and shards of molten metal on an unsuspecting battalion of Henxmen engaged in a ferocious battle with the professors and students from the Academy further along the river bank behind Cornelius’s frontmen. They scattered; some dropping to the ground and rolling in the dirt, others plunging into the river to douse their burning uniforms.
A screech of “Charge!” caused Oscar to avert his eyes from the horror of the headless dragon to see Professor Sidikulus and Professor Blythe, followed by most of the older Underlings from Geodomus and Pyradomus Houses, launch into the dispersed Henxmen. Every one of them held a Gornic as they screamed out incantations causing multi-coloured jets to spring from their tips.
Every form of magic available to the Underlings was utilised as the battle ensued, the likes of which Oscar had never seen. Swords clashed between the Professors and the Henxmen, but it was the students who were experiencing the most success. Henxmen staggered around blindly, their faces obliterated by clinging masks of yellow and emerald wax making them easy prey. Others ceased their fight and fled as their comrades sprouted horns and forked tails, checking their own bodies to find out whether they, too, were so endowed.
Some of the students used water jets from their Gornics to blast the Henxmen down the riverbank into the Tarquid-infested whirlpools that had appeared in the water, their bodies swiftly sucked beneath the surface and down to the river bed. One unfortunate soldier stumbled under the weight of an enormous pair of wings which lifted him from the ground before dumping him into the middle of a sword fight.
The chaos offered Oscar the opportunity to grab the others and bolt for the safety of the windmill.
‘Hide in the tower until we’ve pushed Cornelius and the Henxmen further along the river to the east, then you will be able to make your journey north to the city,’ Quinn shouted.
‘But why can’t you come to the city with us,’ asked Jasmine, her eyes trained not on Quinn but on Otto as she stepped forward to slip her hand into his, to hold him back from dashing once more in to the fracas with Hayden.
‘Transmorph through the portwall with us,’ she whispered.
Otto paused to stare at Jasmine. ‘If the circumstances were different, Jaz, I’d be there with you. But my sword is required here.’
‘We’ll stay and fight, too!’ Wil announced, his newly acquired sword gripped firmly in his fist as he stepped out from the cover of the windmill tower towards the battle which had, as Quinn had hoped, moved further down the river.
‘No Wil, your quest is to return the Stone to my father!’ Quinn ordered, his face wreathed in fear that the most important task of all would not be accomplished.
Suddenly, a deep rumble of thunder rippled through the night sky, so loud it muffled the battle cries. All eyes swivelled towards the Bridge of Grotnol where the headless Talion, unable to move forward or backward without an operator at the helm, had become wedged on the parapet. The rear operator still clung to the controls, though, and was swinging the tail like a pendulum in an effort to liberate the beast but the action had only caused the walls of the crossing to crumble, weakening the structure further. Under the huge weight of the copper monstrosity, the bridge began to sink towards the river below.
‘Aghh!’ screamed Sidikulus as he stumbled into Otto, struck in the shoulder by the flight of an errant dagger. He yanked the blade from the wound and slung it to the ground, ready to launch back into battle but after taking only two steps, he fell to his knees screaming in agony.
‘No!’ cried Oscar, shooting forward, his Gornic raised. He inserted its tip into the professor’s gaping wound and mumbled a few words. Under his direction, just as had happened with Frankus, Sidikulus’ wound repaired itself.
‘You are a true member of Geodomus, Oscar! A child of the Earth; a healer!’ Sidikulus met Oscar’s eyes, silently expressing his gratitude before regaining his feet and plunging into combat once more.
‘Hide! Now!’ Quinn ordered, his face a mask of stone.
Aimie and Jasmine pushed their way into the windmill, its interior swathed in gloom, the air thick with ash and smoke causing their eyes to burn with tears. Quinn and Otto shot forward, each grabbing one of Wil’s elbows and dragging him backwards, heels pumping, into the doorway of the tower.
‘Detain him!’ shouted Quinn to Jasmine before rushing back out to where Oscar knelt over a Pyradomus Underling from the Academy. The boy whimpered in pain as Oscar wrenched an arrow from his thigh before pointing his Gornic at the puncture wound to repair the damage.
‘Get into the windmill tower, now!’ Quinn growled.
‘No, I’m needed here.’ Oscar clenched his jaw in opposition to Quinn’s order.
‘Your presence is needed to transmorph through the portwall. The others, Aimie, Jasmine and Wil, cannot return without you. You must remain faithful to my father’s orders, Oscar.’
‘No, I need to—’
Hayden appeared and the three of them twisted Oscar’s arms behind his back and, as they had done with Wil, they lugged him, objecting loudly, into the doorway of the windmill just as a huge explosion erupted from the river scattering molten bronze and scorching copper into the air, screws and cogs raining down on all within the vicinity of the ill-fated dragon.
‘Let me go! Let me go! Professor Blythe needs my help!’
Oscar continued to rage at Quinn, but Quinn refused to loosen his grip. As he continued to struggle against the superior strength of Quinn and Hayden combined, his rucksack tumbled from his shoulders, the zip opened and Blod shot out into the tangled undergrowth at the foot of the windmill.
‘No, Blod! Blod! Let me go! Let me go!’
‘Have you heard anything I’ve said to you, Oscar?’ Quinn demanded, his anger mounting despite his friendship with Oscar. ‘If you fail to accomplish the task, you will betray Hadrixia; even place your own world at risk of a most heinous fate – all by your own actions. It is for the good of us all that you return the Stone to my father.’
‘But I am needed here,’ Oscar persisted, but with less vehemence.
‘You cannot stay without compromising your friends’ fate. Will you force your own choice upon three others? Are you so selfish?’ said Quinn, trying a different tact.
Oscar’s eyes swivelled to where Jasmine, Aimie and Wil were slumped against the internal wall of the windmill, their faces streaked with soot and sweat. He was uncertain where to look next – the blazing remnants of the dragon in the river below, the crumbling Bridge of Grotnol, the raging battle between Cornelius’s Henxmen and the Academy Underlings supported by Sabina’s rebel forces.
‘Oscar, stick with the plan,’ said Aimie calmly, coming over to join him, resting her hand on his torn sleeve.
Oscar knew when he was beaten. He collected his rucksack, shoving the handles over his shoulders before slamming shut the windmill door in Quinn and Hayden’s faces, not trusting himself to speak. In silence, he led them up the spiral staircase that hugged the windmill’s walls, up to the roof from whose vantage point they could watch as the battle was pressed further downriver to allow their escape to the north.
***
When Aimie emerged onto the rooftop, she gasped.
‘Look!’
Oscar, Jasmine and Wil followed her pointed finger to where a contraption of poles, ropes and pulleys was attached to the windmill’s central mast. Devoid of its blades, the beam sported a wire running off into the darkness beyond.
‘It’s a zip wire!’ Jasmine cried, running to the middle of the tower’s roof. ‘And there’re four harnesses. Come on!’
Aimie mounted the base, grabbed the first harness and offered it to Oscar who stood in front of her, arms by his sides, motionless, unable to produce any kind of resistance and she knew she had to take control.
‘Oscar, you have to go first. Your possession of the Stone will activate the portwall for us all to transmorph.’ She clipped the harness to his belt. ‘Jump!’
She watched as Oscar zipped through the night sky, his long curls flicking high into his slipstream before his silhouette merged with the darkness and he disappeared through what she hoped would be the portwall.
‘Quick, Jasmine! Your Turn!’
She helped Jasmine, and then Wil, into the body braces and shoved them from the precipice before clambering into the remaining harness herself, closing her eyes and leaping into the nothingness. As the warmth of the portwall washed over her entire body, she realised with a wave of relief that they had all successfully transmorphed, which was confirmed when she glanced down at her legs and arms and saw the familiar amber glow. She looked to her right where Wil was helping Jasmine up from the grassy slope at the foot of the limestone wall through which they had passed, before twisting her gaze round in search of Oscar.
Behind her, the wall still displayed the ripple effect of its recent activation. She approached the aperture and, to her astonishment, saw Oscar’s silhouette within the breach.
‘Oscar? What’s happening? Why aren’t you through?’
‘I’m not coming back to camp with you, Aims. Not yet. I have to stay and help the injured Academy students. They need my skills as a healer. I have to support Quinn, Hayden and Otto, and Professor Sidikulus can teach me so much more than I can learn at high school! And I have to find Blod,’ he added.
‘Oscar, you can’t! What about your parents? Your brother?’ she screamed, running forward, groping at Oscar’s arm through the goo-like substance of the portwall.
‘Tell them I’ll come home the next time the portwall opens. Here, take this to Max.’ He slung his rucksack through the breach to where Aimie stood, and the moment it landed at her feet the wall sealed.
