The Draykon Series (1-3)

Orlind: Chapter Twenty-Two

Four constructs. Four teams of Lokants, four sets of explosives.

Four shape-shifters.

Llandry, Pense, Ori and Avane stood in a huddle of Lokants, their group screened from the skies by a ragged canopy of crumbling glissenwol caps. Those skies were ominously quiet. A few hours ago the draykoni attacks had largely ceased. Llan privately hoped that they had worn themselves out for the present; after all, with the help of her father's machines Waeverleyne had taken down many of their number, forcing the draykoni to expend massive energy in order to reclaim the corpses and resurrect their allies. She knew first-hand that this took a heavy toll on the draykoni. The resurrections had certainly slowed: before the retreat, perhaps one third of their numbers were down and the remaining two thirds were noticeably slowing. And so far, the defending force had managed to retain five of those corpses. These five would stay out of the fight for as long as Waeverleyne could keep hold of the remains.

As encouraging as all of that sounded, this brief silence could only constitute a reprieve, not a victory. Sooner or later the enemy would be back, restored to full strength. Meanwhile, the draykon mechs were regenerating their own, solar-based energies and it wouldn't be long before the fires would start up again.

Limbane had decreed that the offense against the constructs must be launched now, while they were still without fire and without the support of the live draykoni.

'I don't like this seeming retreat,' Limbane said, his voice pitched low. 'No creature of any intellect would leave their mech allies unprotected while they're low on power. Even if they're recuperating, they'll be somewhere nearby, watching. So be on your guard.

'The first one should come down easily. We're targeting this one first.' Limbane pointed out one of the four constructs; the thing was currently circling over east Waeverleyne, amusing itself by ripping up bits of the remaining tree cover with its horrific metal claws. 'Lure it out past the city limits if you can, then dump the explosives and get clear. We'll detonate them as soon as we're sure you're out of range.'

Llan and her three colleagues all murmured agreement.

'The next attack needs to come straight afterwards. As soon as we blow up a construct, you can bet those draykoni will be on you. Get back here, grab the next round and get them up in the air. We want the second one down before the draykoni have had time to regroup. Speed is the key, yes?'

Four heads nodded seriously.

'The third will be dangerous. You'll have to get it clear of the city limits, and dodge live draykoni. You'll have the advantage in size and speed: being smaller will make you faster and more agile. But don't get cocky and don't take any stupid risks. The last two will be your biggest challenge and I don't want anyone muffing it in a panic. Got it?'

They nodded again. Llan wondered if the other three were as afraid as she felt. If they were, they didn't show it.

Well then, she wouldn't either. She straightened her spine, looked Limbane in the eye and said, 'Yes, Lokantor.'

'Good. Here's the order we want to do this.' He pointed to each of the other three constructs in turn. Llan committed the pattern to memory, hoping she'd be able to remember which was which when it came to it.

She wished she'd had chance to see her father. He was urgently busy, using their brief reprieve to get as many of his machines back into working order as possible. Llan had taken the opportunity to leave Sigwide with him. The orting rode in his usual carry pouch, but the contraption was strung around her father's waist. She missed Siggy's bright little mind and his frivolous thoughts; he could always cheer her up when she was anxious, afraid or sad, and just now she was all three. But with Aysun he was as safe as Llandry could make him.