Sunday 8 June 2014

Episode CLXII - Ship to Shore


The Absolution had run aground, literally, and it seemed it was still running.

From the deck of the Terror, Frostfire had watched in stunned amazement as the hull of the steam barge - which, mere moments before, had seemed doomed to crash into the harbour and do all their work for them - folded out into a complete set of eight, jointed legs, exposing its inner hull, yet enabling it to scamper ashore like a gigantic metal crab.

Tiberius did not seem surprised however.

"My Uncle has always been most resourceful," he said in his unsettlingly calm voice, "hence the inability of all those I hired to assassinate him all these years.  I hope, now, you understand the necessity of these extreme measures.  It's the only way to be sure."

"Of course, my Lord," Frostfire replied obediently, but his eyes were fixed on the amphibious steam barge.

"It will be time to land the army soon," Tiberius continued, "whether or not my uncle and his friends are still alive."  He turned from the scene before them and looked Frostfire right in his burning eyes.  "I trust you are ready to lead?"

"Of course I am," the Spiketail replied defiantly, before remembering just a moment too late to add another, "my Lord."

A dark look crossed the Baron's face, before smoothing into another thin smile.

"Excellent," he said, "then you had best go join them."



Ellis couldn't quite believe it.  Of all the Former Baron's mad ideas, this was one of the most insane - there was no good reason why it should have worked, or why he should have thought of it in the first place, and yet, here they were, living it, and not a one amongst them had yet died because of it.

"It looks like the hull is holding, then," Von Spektr said, peering through the windows of the wheelhouse, past the crowd of confused crew, even as he worked the levers that kept them moving forwards.

"It had better," Siren warned, "we need to stay inside the ship until we reach the obelisk.  There's no way we'd survive on our own out there."

‘Out there’ was a wasteland.  Where once there had been cobbled streets and ramshackle shops and houses with their quirky overhanging upper storeys, there was now just smoking - indeed, more often than not, burning - rubble.  Shalereef had been all but obliterated.  Only fragments of the harbour area remained intact and no ships remained afloat in the water.  The most massive of them remained as hulks jutting out of the water, pocked with holes, flames spouting out of their chimneys.

"I grew up here," Siren said in a voice little more than a whisper, "and now it's gone."

"Not quite yet," the Former Baron amended, "the high ground is still very much intact."

"But not for long," observed Doctor Barkham.

The bombardment from Tiberius' fleet seemed to be marching ahead of them, almost as if it were clearing a path for the Absolution to run through.  That path was strewn with rubble, debris and flaming hazards, of course, and there was still artillery fire trying to hit them as well.  It was only the incredible manoeuvrability of the Absolution's spider-like legs that was keeping them all alive, as Siren and the Former Baron worked together to weave through the rain of destruction, crawling over piles of rubble and scurrying through those streets which somehow remained only half-razed.

"You're veering too far South," Doctor Barkham observed snippily.

"We're doing the best we can!" Siren shouted back, "If you want to take a try..."

"No, thank you," the Countess replied with a smile, oozing sarcasm, "I'm happier just to navigate, after all, you seem to need it."

Ellis watched Siren's shoulders tense and worried she was about to have an outburst, distracting her from her vitally important task, but she took a deep breath and managed to ignore Rosetta, turning the Absolution Northwards through the remains of an alleyway at the same time.

"Excellent," Doctor Barkham said and Ellis found himself fighting the urge to punch her.

Fortunately for the Countess, that was when Sarah, Gulliver, Miss Barkcastle, Lord Blood Dragon and Ember joined them in the suddenly very cramped wheelhouse.

"The alterations are working just perfectly, Franck," Miss Barkcastle began, "your calculations were perfect as always."

"I wouldn't say always," Ellis muttered, but no one seemed to hear him.  The Former Baron merely shone one very quick smile at Miss Barkcastle before returning to his complicated assortment of levers.  How he could manage to control all eight of the ships arachnoid legs, Ellis couldn't even begin to imagine, but the old Philosopher hadn't faltered once so far as he could tell.

"How did you even think of it?" Lord Blood Dragon asked, sounding similarly impressed.

"Oh, I guess I had been pondering the possibilities of larger mechanical conveyances ever since our sojourn in Smokestack when we were heading to find Ellis in Blackfeather, oh... many months ago now.  Remind me to tell you about it later sometime."

"Sometime when we aren't running for our lives or trying to overthrow an Elder god," Siren added pointedly.  She spun the wheel and the Absolution began to tear along a rubble-strewn avenue.

"About that," Gulliver said, sounding lower than ever, and yet clearly not quite as close to tears as he had been all day, "do we 'ave a plan for what 'appens next?"

"At the moment we're mostly concerned with making it to the obelisk alive,"  Siren said not looking away from the wheel,  "After that?  I think that's up to Ember."

"Why isn't it all just up to Ember, then?" Gulliver replied, "couldn't 'e 'ave done all this without us?"

"I am not that powerful," the Fallen replied, "besides this final obelisk is protected somehow.  I was unable to get us any closer to it and I cannot move it until I am inside."

"So were what, then?  Cannon fodder?"

"You are my... friends..." Ember replied uncertainly, "and for that I am grateful."

Gulliver looked away for a moment, then added, softly this time, "I'm sorry.  This is all just..." he trailed off.

"It seems to me that our biggest problem is how we're even going to get to the obelisk," Sarah said, joining the conversation for the first time.  "Tiberius' forces are concentrating their firepower ahead of us and it looks like they are trying to create a barrier of destruction.  We can't just weave through that."

Sarah was right.  The artillery fire was, somehow, intensifying ahead of them, creating a wall of hypostatickally charged fire they could not possibly cross and it was no longer advancing ahead of them at any great rate, but stretching to either side, hemming them in.
                                          
"I can't believe they have so much firepower," Ellis said.

"I can't believe they would kill so many people," Miss Barkcastle added sadly, "if only we'd had time, we could have tried to evacuate..."

"There'th no point in 'if only'th now, Felithity," Lord Blood Dragon said, laying a hand on her shoulder, "and we thould not blame ourthelveth."

"Oh, don't worry," the elderly Engineer replied, a sudden look of such steely intensity in her eyes that Ellis felt the need to take a step back, though there was no room, "I don't intend to.  I know the parties responsible for all this."

For just a moment it seemed her eyes lingered on Doctor Barkham, but they flicked away so quickly Ellis couldn't be sure.

"But what do we now?" Sarah asked, trying to bring everyone's attention back to the problem at hand, "how do we get to the obelisk?  Is there some way we can pass that firewall?"

"In a couple of moments," the Former Baron replied, pointing out the window towards the hill where Tentacle Lane still stood, though the flames were nearly upon it, "it will not matter at all."

"And why is-" Sarah began, but then there was a flash of almost blinding purple-white light and a crackle, like charged lightning, so loud that it left Ellis' ears ringing.


Frostfire surveyed the beachfront.  It probably had been a beach once, millennia ago, but countless generations of humans had built and built and built, covering it in wood and stone and layers of city, until even the old shoreline was left behind.  The harbour he had just helped destroy was probably about ninety percent reclaimed land, and now turning to ash as it was, it seemed likely that the sea might take it back.

The way ahead was not going to be easy.  Even with the level of destruction they had caused with the bombardment, which, even now was progressing up the hill like a living firestorm, buildings still stood in half-ruined splendour, their fittings and furnishings spilled out into the streets along with the bricks and wood that had held them together.  There were very few routes that might be called clear pathways and even the best of those had hillocks of rubble to climb at intervals.

To either side stood his army, or at least the vanguard.  They were a mixture of Humans, Stoneskins and Lakhmaspawn, though he tried to keep the latter separate as much as possible for their appearance disturbed even him, and they were kitted out in a motley armour with various makeshift weapons.  Some were armed with hypostatick projectile weapons provided by the Noble Society, but there weren't as many of those to go around as he would have liked.  They stood, undisciplined and unfocussed, eyeing Frostfire nervously but nevertheless waiting for the command to move.  He was happy to let them wait a moment longer.

Their objective was clear.  Even through the smoke and the fire it was possible to see the massive pyramid looming over the district in the distance.  It was hard to believe that it was only the tip of an obelisk, itself part of some impossibly huge weapon.  And, somehow, his force had to seize it. Tiberius wanted it secured for Lakhma.  If it did what he had been led to believe it did then he wasn't sure why Lakhma didn't just want it destroyed, but he had his orders and it suited him to follow through on them for now.

He took a few steps forward, turned his back on the destruction of Shalereef and faced his untested army.

“You know what you need to do,” he said, feeling no need for preamble, “so go to-”


Thinking back on it later, Frostfire would never be entirely sure if it was the looks on the faces of those before him, or the feel of the air behind him which changed first.  Either way, he had less than a second to process the shock of the army and the sudden charged wind before the flash and the crackle and the force which lifted him off the ground and threw him back towards the sea with such force that, for just a moment, he blacked out completely.

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