“Don’t suppose this thing’s fire-proof?” Clay asked Kriz. She seemed oblivious to the drakes, staring upwards at the dark void left by the fallen shaft.
“Actually, it’s flame-resistant,” she replied softly. “But I don’t think that will be an issue.”
There was no warning of what happened next, no gradually increasing trickle, just a sudden vast torrent of water descending out of the sky in a white blur. A blast of displaced air hit the aerostat as the torrent struck the ground, clearing the drakes from the windows as they took flight in alarm.
Clay stepped close to the glass once more, watching the deluge swamp the mountains below before flooding the foot-hills and the forests where the strange monkeys made their home. Soon it had all vanished, the mountains, the lake with its matrix of roads, the desert and the forest all submerged in a matter of minutes by an ever-rising tide.
“This is the way out?” Clay asked Kriz, hearing the half-hysterical humour in his voice, which felt at odds with the sudden calm he felt. It all seemed like some huge joke now; her promises of escape, their pointless trek through this place of wonder and terror. A prolonged piece of theatre so they could watch it drown, and them along with it.
Kriz turned to him with a weak, apologetic shrug. “I never said it would be easy.”
CHAPTER 49
Lizanne
The Blood Cadre agent descended through the smoke, blazing away with a revolver in his left hand. Lizanne had time to notice that his right arm was missing, presumably lost in the bombardment, before lashing out with Black to sweep him out of the sky. He landed amidst a ruined gun-position a short way off, struggled to his feet then fell dead as Kraz put three bullets into his chest.
“Loses an arm and keeps on fighting,” he said in reluctant admiration.
“They know what fate awaits them,” Jelna replied, voice rich in righteous fury. It was clear to Lizanne she had been looking forward to this day for a very long time. “Even a cornered rat will fight.”
They had charged through the ruined wall at blurring speed, wreaking havoc on the scratch force of Imperial soldiery hastily assembled to cover the breach. The lingering pall of dust and drifting gunsmoke soon made the whole enterprise an exercise in confusion and unseen threats. One of their number had already fallen to a stray bullet and another had been cut down by a wounded Blood Cadre agent. Despite being pinned by a fallen chunk of masonry the fellow managed to cast forth a torrent of Red-born fire. Kraz set the agent’s head alight with his own Red and they left him to burn.
Ten minutes of confused fighting brought them to the Blue Maze where they found numerous Household troops fleeing across the ornamental bridges, whilst others flailed in the canal waters having been thrust aside by the crush.
“If I were given to believing in the old gods,” Jelna said, depressing the first three buttons on her Spider, “I think I’d be offering thanks just now.”
She sprinted forward and leapt, ascending in a high arc over a series of bridges, casting a wave of Red and Black down at each one in turn. Kraz leapt to join in, moving deeper into the maze, flames and human wreckage rising in his wake. Men burned and were blasted away, bodies tumbling into the canals, which soon began to run red. Seeing Hyran start forward, grimly determined to take part in the unfolding massacre, Lizanne reached out to restrain him.
“Leave the slaughter to the mob,” she told him, casting a pointed glance over her shoulder at the vanguard of the People’s Freedom Army now streaming through the wall. “We have an objective.”
They refreshed their product and she led him on through the Blue Maze, leaping high to avoid the main concentrations of fleeing troops and cutting down only those who tried to bar their way. These stalwarts were few in number, mainly officers or veteran sergeants unwilling to shirk their duty even now. But the panic of the rank and file told an inescapable truth no amount of dutiful courage could deny; the Corvantine Empire would fall this day.
Having traversed the maze, they sprinted through the ring of ornate temples to long-dead Emperors, making for the central palace complex. There were fewer troops this far into the Sanctum, most of the people they encountered being courtiers and chamberlains. Some reacted with outright terror at the sight of them, whilst others could only stand and stare, either in shock or fatalistic acceptance. Spying a familiar face, Lizanne came to a halt, Hyran sliding to her side amidst a cloud of displaced gravel.
They had reached the Horse Parade where the Household Cavalry once staged their equine displays for the Emperor’s pleasure. It was mostly empty now save for a few fleeing courtiers and one rather plump man who stood still and straight-backed, sweat shining on his bald pate as he faced towards the fast-approaching rebel tide.
“Chamberlain Yervantis,” Lizanne greeted him with a bow of appropriate depth.
“Miss Lethridge,” he replied in a surprisingly well-modulated tone, meeting her gaze. She noted that his evident resolve was undermined slightly by the need to blink the sweat from his eyes.
“It would have been better if you had found somewhere else to be today,” Lizanne told him.
He inclined his head. “Logic with which I find it hard to argue, madam.”
“I take it then that you are prepared to survive the empire’s fall?”
His gaze flicked towards the temples where Kraz and Jelna were enthusiastically destroying a band of die-hard troops. “I wasn’t aware that might be a possibility.”
Lizanne stepped closer to him, looping her arm through his and guiding him towards the palace. “All things are possible in the new republic, good sir. For example, were you to tell me where I might find Countess Sefka it will transpire that you have been a Brotherhood agent for years now, as my young friend here will be happy to attest.”
? ? ?
Countess Sefka had secluded herself on an artificial island in the centre of the Sanctum’s broad ornamental lake. Lizanne recalled strolling the lake-side with poor, deluded Emperor Caranis not so long ago and couldn’t suppress a pang of amused regret at the man’s inventive insanity. Sethamet’s Bane, she thought, judging the distance from the shore to the island. Returned to seek justice for the Guardians’ murdered servant. If he had lived he might actually have been useful.
“Surely it’s too far to jump,” Hyran said. “Even for you.”
She nodded and started to wade into the water. “Take Chamberlain Yervantis to the general,” she told Hyran, waving him back when he attempted to follow her. “I’m sure he has a wealth of intelligence to share.”
“But the countess . . .”