"Ammo check!" Amelian called, as the last creature went down at Valen's feet. Mia was already in the middle of reloading, and Barnes was applying a compress on his arm, from a bite wound one of the creatures had managed to inflict.
Of course, anyone smaller than Barn wouldn't have survived grappling with three of the creatures, and his efforts managed to keep Mia safe enough to stick to her Salamander work. Amelian smiled in relief, and with as much pride as she had ever felt.
Mia was the first to respond, somehow managing to count her shots while she reloaded. "Thirty-four rounds, Ma'am."
Valen tossed his ammo pouch over to Mia, as he drew a knife and set its blade into the fire pouring from the nearby exhaust port. "Bites from one of those things can be gangrenous. I'd rather Barnes didn't lose an arm to it," he explained, as the knife heated in his hand.
"You really think we'll live long enough for me to lose an arm, sir?" Barnes asked, as he fumbled with the pouch at his belt. "Twenty-eight, ma'am."
"Who knows?" Valen asked. "But if we do survive, I get to say 'I told you so' for the rest of my life, Barnes," he grinned as he spoke, and gestured for Samuel to join him.
"Good thing you're older than the fifth tapestry, then. Completely badass for a fossil, mind you," Barnes replied.
"Then let's add insult to your injury. If you live through this and keep your arm, you have to name your firstborn after me. And I'll tell him to keep saying 'I told you so,'" Valen said, with a smirk.
"Deal." Samuel replied, as he took off the compress and held out his arm to Valen. Without preamble, Valen stepped forward swiftly, set his shoulder under Samuel's arm, and set the knife on the wound.
Samuel hissed, and clenched Valen's other shoulder, but held without a word until Valen pulled his knife away.
Amelian unbuckled her sword, and offered it to Samuel hilt-first. "We have a minute. Set the scabbard against your arm. It's about as cold as ice."
"Thanks, ma'am." Samuel replied.
"Forty-eight rounds. Mia, how many does Valen still have?"
"Fifty-five. The old man was hoarding on us."
"One hundred and sixty-five, then," Amelian thought out loud. "And the Gloamtaken have those shots outnumbered at least five to one." She turned to Mia, and thought for a moment.
"We had better make the most of them," Amelian said, as she slid her ammo pouch to Mia. "Take every shot we have. Two of us will screen, one will reload if we can spare the time, while you do all of the shooting," she ordered, and Mia nodded.
"Any sign of that rider?" She asked.
"No, ma'am," Valen replied. "Which might not be a good thing."
"We'll deal with that when we have to," Amelian said. She took her sword back from Samuel, who nodded gratefully as she belted it back on. "Drink some water, and move out at a march."
"We aren't going to try and run for it?" Barnes asked.
"No," Valen explained, as the four of them started marching. "We could beat them in a sprint, but the Gloamtaken don't get tried. They'd eventually run us down. It's better to save our steam for when they catch us."
Samuel nodded, and the march passed in silence, long enough at least for Amelian to consider their next few moves. It was a bad situation to be in; miles from any reinforcements and hard pressed with a horde of enemies behind them. Even without the rider, the odds of making it to the next wall were slim. She could see, faintly, how large the horde was at the end of the Causeway, massing in numbers that would drown the four of them as soon as it caught up with them.
On both sides of the Causeway, the fields were still burning, which was almost as dangerous as the Gloamtaken. She glanced down, at the patches of fire and the billowing smoke, and shook her head. If they could survive that trip, the Gloamtaken could follow.
"Burn me," she thought.
At least she thought it was only in her head, until Valen turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Ma'am?" he asked.
She shrugged, as Valen fell into step beside her. Quietly, to avoid being overheard, she explained. "All my options end with us dying. I keep hoping there's something I've overlooked, some better plan that could get us out of this mess. But there isn't anything, is there?"
"No. But I am impressed," Valen admitted. "You're still thinking about winning."
"Surviving," she corrected.
"It's the same thing, in this case," Valen insisted. "Your head is in the present. You're focusing on this moment, what you can still do. Most people tend to visit their regrets right now, instead of their duty. Believe me, I've seen it happen."
She nodded, as they marched along. Every hundred yards, they passed an exhaust port, and each felt like a small accomplishment; another few minutes of life they managed to keep from the creatures coming towards them.
Suddenly, from behind them, a scream pierced the night. Impossibly loud, and distant, it had a low and guttural tone that no human could have made. To Amelian's ear, it sounded as if the Gloam itself was howling in rage, just beyond the wall.
As if that scream were a command, the distant Gloamtaken charged with a new, terrifying fury, faster than Amelian had ever seen them move. Their terrifying trample did not even spare their own number, some of whom were lost as they fell, swallowed beneath the multitude behind them.
"No," Valen said, in a conversational tone, as if they were simply sitting for coffee.
"What?" Amelian asked, confused.
"The question you'll ask in a minute. Where you ask if anyone has ever heard that before. The answer is no," Valen explained.
"I don't give a speck of ash right now, Valen," Amelian hissed. "Mia, thin them out. Barnes, on my left. Valen, my right. And feel free to give ground. Half our problem is we have too much Causeway."
"Aye, ma'am," They all said. There were no salutes. Every one of them was watching the approaching horde intently, as they moved into their positions.
Mia stepped forward, and shot four bursts of bright-blue flame into the crowds, sending several reeling and halting groups of the creatures in her tracks. As they advanced another dozen steps further, she finished reloading, and hammered the creatures with another volley.
The first two creatures that reached their formation both rushed Valen, who casually waved off her assistance as he sidestepped the first, letting it run into his sword, and pushed it into the other. As both creatures fell to the ground, he followed with a quick thrust of his sword, and neither creature rose.
Mia stepped back to reload, and several more creatures rushed towards them, converging on Samuel, who wisely backed up to give himself a little more space.
Amelian darted forward, and managed to catch one of them with a strike to the side, beneath an outstretched arm. It tumbled to the ground as the others ran past, and didn't rise.
She followed the creatures, as the first reached Samuel. The leader rushed him, and received a swift sword thrust through its chest, from the collar-bone down, and collapsed to its knees.
The next creature leapt up to try and grapple him, impaling itself on his sword, forcing Samuel to throw it and his sword to the ground. He turned away from it to grab the next creature, and held it away as it tried to claw and bite at him.
To Amelian's surprise, he then kicked it in the knee, knocked it down, picked the creature up by its shoulders, and threw it off the wall.
She caught up with the last of the creatures, and punched her sword through its back, hard enough to punch through its chest and out the other side. Its own momentum carried it off her sword, and the creature tumbled to the ground.
Samuel set his foot on the creature his sword was stuck in, and drew it out. He gave the point a quick inspection, shrugged, and sheathed his sword, "Thanks, ma'am," he said to her, as they turned back to see the bulk of the horde coming closer.
Mia fired four times into the crowd, lethal bursts of flame that flashed like bolts of lightning into the creatures. Several creatures fell, and Mia tossed aside the Salamander, grabbing another over her shoulder and firing three more shots into the crowd.
Mia then slid a satchel into the crowd, where it disappeared behind the oncoming masses. She smiled and aimed, firing her last shot.
The explosion rocked the mob, sending creatures into the air and throwing others like lint in the wind. Even Amelian felt the air beaten out of her lungs from the explosion, and staggered backwards, blinking her eyes.
"Warn us first, Corporal!" she shouted towards Mia, and it took a moment to realize she wasn't standing there.
To Amelian's surprise, Mia dashed behind them, exclaiming, "I have an idea!" Bemused, Amelain looked over to Valen, who only offered a shrug.
She nodded and followed Mia at a jog, who dropped most of her equipment, including her Salamander, to fish out a half-dozen rounds and her water satchel. She placed the water pack on the exhaust pipe, and using a length of thin wire, tied it around the pipe.
"Water helps contain the blast," Mia said, as if she were offering an explanation the others would understand. "Steel holds the pipe's shape, and the ceramic beneath holds the heat. Punch through the steel, crack the ceramic, and..." she finished, hopped down, and stepped away.
"Stand behind me," she said, and all three of them hastily passed her, turning around at a safe distance. She raised her Salamander and fired.
The explosion was surprisingly quiet for six Salamander rounds, but after the flash of fire faded, there was nothing left of Mia's water skin.
"What?" Mia exclaimed, staring at the pipe. "That should have worked! Why the hell didn't it work?" She asked.
Amelian stared at the pipe, looking closely where Mia had set her improvised explosive. The pipe was broken, with a fierce hole ripped into the steel coating of the pipe. The ceramic beneath was damaged, but still held the fire inside.
"What were you trying?" Amelain asked.
"To punch a hole into the pipe, and redirect the fire. Thought it would slow them down. Why didn't it work?"
"It did," Valen said as he dashed forward, sword in hand. Amelian followed after, but he waved her off and climbed up the battlements. He stepped up to the pipe, held his short-sword in both hands, and swung it hard into the exposed ceramic.
The exploding flame threw Valen off the battlements, and sent him skidding along the causeway. The fire billowed out of the pipe, pouring into a stream that stretched over halfway across the causeway.
Amelain stepped over and knelt down to check on Valen, who somehow kept his sword firmly in his hand. He grimaced, as she offered her hand, but took it and pulled himself to a sitting position.
"I'm getting too old for this shit," Valen muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He winced as he rolled his shoulder, and staggered to his feet.
The billowing flame brought the advancing mob of the Gloam-filled corpses to a halt, holding themselves just out of reach of the flickering tongues of flame that fluttered through the air. A small number were trying to pass on the far side, but the heat from the fires seemed to keep them at bay. Only a few at a time could pass, along the far side of the nearly sixty foot wide gap now blocked by a stream of fire.
Still, a few at a time could quickly mean dozens at once.
"Samuel, Valen! With me!" Amelian shouted, pointing her sword towards the Gloamtaken before charging across the causeway. She reached the creatures quickly, seemingly taking them by surprise as she fell into them, her ice-cold sword a blur in her hands as she cut into them.
Several fell, and a few more were thrown back into the fires, where they seemed to bloom into bright candles as the Gloam inside them seemed to burst into flame. The creatures near the flame would flare brightly for a moment, then collapse as if they had been cut down.
They held like that for a minute, and then another. The creatures couldn't pass at more than a trickle, and as they fell, those following had to climb over the small mound of the fallen that began piling up in front of them. Dozens of the creatures lay in front of them now, felled by sword and Salamander, and the horde had ground to a halt.
But as they fought, they noticed the gap where the Gloamtaken could cross was getting wider. Despite Mia's best efforts, five or six creatures could fit in the gap at a time, and Amelian could feel her sword arm ache as she swung.
"The hole in the pipe is getting wider! It could break at any time!" Mia shouted, setting her hand on Amelian's shoulder and forcing her to look.
"Throw another satchel into the gap. We'll make for the next pipe!" Amelian shouted, and Valen nodded. The old sergeant had to set his arm on Samuel's shoulder to force him back, before the four of them disengaged and started running back down the causeway.
Mia pointed the salamander behind her as she ran, and Amelian heard, rather than saw, the satchel burst into a plume of flame. She only turned back as a screeching crack seemed to follow the explosion.
She nearly cried aloud, as the line of fire holding the Gloamtaken back had vanished. The hordes, hundreds in her line of sight, had no barrier keeping them from running the four of them down.
"Mia, keep going! Get to the pipe!" Valen called, as he turned back and drew his sword again.
"Sir!" Mia exclaimed, and Amelian was surprised to see Mia pointing behind them, and up into the sky.
"Abyss below," Samuel said, the sword almost slipping from his fingers. He shook his head, bewildered. "We can't fight that."
Amelian looked up, and for a moment, refused to believe what her eyes were telling her.
Above, coming towards them as fast as a train, was a ship. An immense ship of steel that gleamed in the light of the exhaust torches, that seemed to devour the sky as it came towards them.
Bewildered, she turned to Valen, who was grinning from ear to ear. She glanced back up, and understood the old Sergeant's glee.
It looked like something built by people, a thing made of metal and fire. And it came from behind them. It came from the City.
As it turned, a search-light shone a brilliant beam of yellow firelight at them, forcing Amelian to block the light with their hands.
The ship drew close and turned sideways, and a dozen tiny figures appeared along the side of its deck. Brilliant blue bursts of flame flashed from the deck, as Salamander fire lanced through the air and into the creatures still advancing towards them.
"Mia! Let them have it!" Amelian shouted, pointing her sword towards the Gloamtaken.
Mia started firing shots into the mob, as the ship passed slowly overhead. The others took the spare Salamanders resting on Mia's shoulder, and added to the brilliant display of flashing light now crashing into the mob.
But despite the dozens of creatures falling to the onslaught of Salamander fire from the ship, the mob was starting to advance again, and the ship now rested directly overhead.
She nearly didn't notice as someone stepped up beside her, as she fired another round, and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Lieutenant!" she heard, and saw a woman standing beside her.
Mechanic, Amelian thought instantly, seeing the coat. They were all issued the same sort of heavy coat, treated to be flame resistant, with sleeves that detached at the shoulders. The woman wearing it stepped past her, her hands in her pockets, and seemed to glide forward as she put herself between Amelain's squad and the Gloamtaken.
She turned her head back, and Amelian could barely see the woman's face, cast beneath the shadows of her hair. It was only slightly less menacing than the knives in her hands. "Fall back about twenty feet. He'll need a little room to work," the woman in the mechanic's coat said.
"What?" Amelian asked, as another person stepped past her, Salamander slung lazily over a shoulder. He looked like a civilian, but as he passed, she saw the sword swaying at his belt.
"Fall back. He has this," She insisted, and the four of them started backwards, where a rope dangled from the ship above their heads.
"Ma'am, what the hell are they thinking?" Mia asked, as five of the creatures closed the distance to the new pair. "We need to help them!"
The mechanic moved first, darting ahead of the civilian with her hands flickering out. The blur of steel shimmered in the air, and two creature staggered to a halt, stumbling but still on their feet, as the others charged past. "Gloamtaken need an open puncture wound to kill. They'll drop once you take the knives out," The civilian remarked, as the Mechanic frowned at the creatures still advancing with knives in their chests.
As the first one closed, the mechanic lunged forward, stabbing hard with a knife into the leader's chest, her other hand resting on its shoulder as she used the creature to push off and lunge at the next one, drawing the knife out as she stepped away.
The third creature rushed past the mechanic, fixing on the civilian. Its headlong rush was unimpeded, and the civilian only glanced at it, with the briefest flicker of annoyance. As it closed, the creature's eyes suddenly lit up, as bright yellow light seemed to escape its mouth as it threw its head back and screeched eerily into the night.
It took one more step, and collapsed in a heap at the civilian's feet.
"Fires below!" Valen hissed, his eyes wide. "A Crafter!"
Amelian felt a swell of relief, like a burden lifted from her shoulders, as she watched the mechanic dispatch the other two creatures close to them, by drawing out the knives she had thrown earlier.
Every childhood story of the Crafters came back to her in an instant. The Crafters were the last and mightiest weapon the City had against the Gloam; beings of incredible might who broke tidal waves of Gloamtaken, and brought down Golems. The Civilian in front of her represented enough firepower to wipe the causeway clear of those creatures. It meant safety for her soldiers.
Yet when she looked at Valen, his face was pale, his expression flint-hard, and the grip on his sword left his knuckles bone-white.
"Behind me!" the Crafter called to the mechanic, who tucked her knives away and darted behind him. As she passed, he levelled his Salamander at the advancing horde, and Amelian felt the odd urge to slap him upside his head. His grip was wrong, he was placing his left hand too close to the end of the barrel, and he wasn't looking down the gun's sights.
But when he fired, the world beyond him vanished.
Bright blue flame flashed in the night, and the sudden burst of fire made Amelian stumble as a wave of nearly scalding hot-air swept past them, buffeting them and kicking their coats back.
As she blinked to clear her eyes, she saw pieces of the battlements blown apart by the force of the blast, as well as what must be some of the creatures; whatever wasn't instantly immolated in the fire. For over a hundred feet in front of her, the causeway was seared black, with deep cracks running along its length. Beyond that point, the Gloamtaken were scattered, many of them lying still and broken, while others in the distance struggled to their feet.
The Crafter pointed to the broken exhaust pipe that Mia had punched a hole in, and swept his hand as if trying to hit a bug. The length of flame from the exhaust pipe seemed to bloom as it leapt into the crowd of creatures. It formed a whirling torrent, blooming in a burst of light as each creature was devoured in the fire, building on itself as it whirled down the Causeway.
Amelian spared a glance at the pair ahead of her, and saw knives in the mechanic's hands as she stared at the Crafter beside her. The Crafter was holding his free arm up, waving his hand in lazy circles. But his own coat whirled about with some unnatural wind, the air seemed to crackle around him, and his hair glowed orange.
The fire stormed down the Causeway for a few seconds, until the Crafter nodded and set his hand down, where it bloomed once, and then vanished into the air, devouring itself as it winked out of existence.
"That should buy us a few minutes," the Crafter said, as he turned back and started walking towards them.
"Or draw out that rider thing the Sergeant we picked up was talking about. Which might be more than you can handle," the mechanic replied.
"Then let's not linger," he said, as he approached. As he drew closer, Amelian caught sight of his sword, and saw the insignia on the pommel. Like hers, it was a metal hoop, but with two bars running through it.
"Captain!" she said, loudly, so her soldiers would respond. Mia and Samuel both snapped to attention, saluting before the echo of her shout faded from her ears. She followed suit after a moment, as was proper for an officer, and the Crafter returned it a moment later.
Valen, though, still had his left hand resting on his sword, and took a step forward, putting himself between them and the Crafter. "I am invoking article ten, section twenty-two, of the Uniform Code of Discipline."
The Crafter simply stared back, confused. It was now plain to Amelian, as well as Valen, that this Crafter was not an officer of the Military. Article ten was the first, and last article drilled into every officer in the City, and encompassed the conduct of an officer in relation to enlisted troops. Section twenty-two detailed how any soldier could demand that an officer prove their rank by proving the sword had a cold-stone core.
"Further, I must insist that someone other than you conduct the test," Valen added, forcefully. "Or your shadow."
So the mechanic was his shadow. That explained the knives.
The Crafter scratched his head for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Ah, right, the sword test." He smiled and shrugged, drawing the cutlass at his belt with his free hand. He held it by the blade as he handed it to the mechanic. "Lucille, would you give that to the Sergeant? He may as well test it. Do you need a torch?"
"A light touch will suffice," Valen replied, as the shadow walked over and met the Sergeant, carefully passing him the sword by holding the pommel with two fingers. He took the sword in one hand, and carefully brushed the flat of the blade with his finger.
He flinched, pulling his hand back. "Under normal circumstances, that would be enough," he said, handing the sword back to the mechanic, who walked it back to the Crafter. "But I have to ask, how did you receive that sword? The First Law of Reconciliation prohibits exactly this."
The Crafter smiled, and held out his hands. "I received it from a messenger with a black armband, who carried an order from The Lord Captain pressing my ship into service," he chuckled ruefully after he spoke, and took the sword from his shadow, again by the blade.
"Ah, it's your ship. Apologies, sir." Valen said formally, saluting and standing at attention.
As he sheathed his sword, he said, "I am Gerald Raeth, Captain of the Midnight Songbird, the City's first Airship. This is my first officer, Lucille Kendor. I'll introduce the rest of my crew once we're aboard, and on our way."
Lucille smiled, and turned to Gerald. "You really should tell them its proper name, sir," she chuckled as Gerald glared at her.
"I did," the Captain insisted, haughtily. "Why don't you make yourself useful, and have my amusing helmsman prepare to take us to the next wall?"
She nodded, and smoothly stepped past Mia and up to the dangling rope. She grabbed on to it, and waved with her hand, as it started pulling her up to the ship.
The Captain closed the distance to them, and his gaze lingered curiously at Valen's sword for a moment, before he met Amelian's eyes. "Lieutenant Amelian Rustov?" He asked, holding out his hand.
"Aye, sir," she said, and shook it. "Sir, I recommend we get out of here, as soon as possible. We encountered a new enemy."
"The Rider?" he asked, and Amelian nodded in confirmation. "Sergeant Reeves briefed me. It's part of why I'm down here. It's also why someone should take the rope," he gestured behind them, as the rope dropped back down.
She turned, and finding Samuel, gestured towards the rope. "Barnes, get up there, and report to Reeves. We'll follow shortly."
"Aye, ma'am," he replied, and took the rope.
"Sir!" Valen shouted, and Amelian was surprised to see him standing atop the battlements, staring down the Causeway. His spyglass was out, and his expression was pained. "It must have come up the stairs, it's coming towards us! Moving fast!"
"Fires below..." Mia said, checking the seal on her Salamander. "Have another Crafter or seven up on that ship?"
As she finished her question, they began to hear a rapid patter that ripped through the air and hammered at Amelian's courage. The strange staccato was similar to the sound of striking stone with a hammer, as if dozens of blacksmiths were keeping the beat for some terrifying melody.
The Captain shook his head. "Just me, I'm afraid," he took a few steps forward, and sighed. "Well, Lucille wanted to see me cut loose."
He paused, and patted his pockets. "Any of you have extra Salamander shot?" he asked.
"Here, sir," Mia said as she handed the Captain her ammo bag, and started to offer him her Salamander before he waved it off. "I don't actually need it," he explained.
"Take the rope, Mia. We'll follow," Valen said.
She nodded, reluctantly. It was clear she wasn't comfortable leaving the fight to someone else, even a Crafter. She stepped away, and seized the rope.
Amelain watched just long enough to see her rise up into the air, and smiled in relief. One more safely away, even if it was aboard this impossible ship that she couldn't willingly stare at for long.
As she turned back, the Rider came into view, passing through the horde that parted for it; each of the creatures struggling to give the horse and rider a wide berth.
Amelian hadn't fully appreciated how large it was, when she last saw it. The horse alone towered over the Gloamtaken, and could easily rest its head on the battlements. The Rider was head and chest taller than any of the creatures, and the brand of flame it wielded in its hand might have been longer than a fully grown man.
The Captain, as he stood in the Rider's path, looked small and frail as his frame failed to eclipse the swirling fires advancing on them.
"You should go next, Lieutenant. I'll stay behind, since he sent his shadow away. It's a role I've had to fill before," Valen said, his hand resting on his sword.
Gerald laughed, and turned back. "I'd like to hear that story, sometime. Thing is, my shadow can do her job best from the ship. If it looks like I might be a danger, she can order the ship to fly away, and leave me to the Rider," he explained, as he took handfuls of Salamander rounds out of the bag and placed them in his coat pockets.
"Sir..." Valen started, but when Gerald looked back to him, his eyes were wide and the grin had faded from his face. His face was pale and his hands shook, but his voice was clear and powerful when he spoke.
"I stand between the City and her enemies, Sergeant. Make use of me," he said.
Amelian choked a little when she heard what he said. Those words were famous, plays were written to make them heard on stage. They were first uttered three days into the First Invasion, said by a Crafter who stood before the first Lord Captain of the Wall, begging to be a part of the fight.
Valen saluted, right fist to heart, before he turned away and took the rope. She watched for a moment, as he rose up to the ship, before turning back to the Captain and the advancing Rider.
The Rider had passed the Gloamtaken, and slowed as it stood in front of the stones burnt black from the Captain's blasts of fire. It held out its arm, wielding the brand of flame in the air, and the flames began to howl.
"Captain!" she called to him, as he stepped towards the Rider, and drew a couple of Salamander rounds from his pockets. "That thing wants to kill you. Surviving is a victory."
He didn't turn back, but shouted, "I'll do my damnedest!"
He then pointed his left arm at the Rider, and the world ahead of him vanished in bright blue flames. She could feel the force of the shockwave as the air rumbled, and the shock of the scalding winds pushed at her. She crouched, and stumbled to where she guessed the rope would fall.
She looked back, to see the Rider unharmed, its firebrand held into the air at its side, as if the Rider had just swung it.
To his credit, Gerald didn't hesitate as he extended his right arm, while dipping his left back into his pocket. Another burst of bright blue fire flashed through the air, and Amelian could see the Rider swing its firebrand again before the air erupted into light, and the force of the explosion nearly knocked her to her knees. She stumbled, and desperately clutched for something, relieved to feel a knotted rope in her hands.
She put her feet on a knot, braced her arm, and waved with her free hand. At once, the winch engaged, and the rope hauled her up, the speed a relief as she left the ground behind the Crafter and the Rider he fought.
She barely noticed as she passed up the hull of the ship, until the winch slowed as she neared the railing, and a hand reached out to help her over. She took it, climbed over the waist-high railing, and the helping hand stepped back and saluted. "Welcome to the Midnight Songbird, ma'am." a Corporal said, and Amelian returned her salute.
"Salamanders to the railings!" she heard Valen shout, between immensely loud explosions that buffeted the bag the ship was suspended from. The old Sergeant was waving soldiers, most of them not his, to the far side of the ship. "I don't care if Salamanders are just bug bites to it, it's still better than sitting on your assess while the Captain does your jobs for you! Corporal Vascel, are we close enough to hit that thing?"
Amelian grinned. Her Senior Sergeant was back in his element, and seemed to have every soldier on deck listening as if he were The Lord Captain himself. He nodded to Amelian when he saw her, and she took a Salamander from the rack on deck and joined the soldiers at the railings.
"We're too far off, sir!" Mia shouted back.
"Ma'am, can we close?" Valen asked Lucille, who stood on the side of the ship with her hands on the hilt of her knives, as if she were about to leap back down.
But she shook her head, her expression pained. "No. We're lucky Gerald can trade blows with it. Your Rider would make short work of this ship."
She calls him Gerald. Amelian made a small note of that.
"Sitting here might also make us a target," Amelian said. "Respectfully, ma'am, we ought at least be in motion. As a sitting target, we're a liability. As a moving target, we might be a distraction," she said.
To Amelian's surprise, the Shadow didn't argue, but turned to the helmsman and shouted, "All ahead full! Get us out of their range!"
The helmsman, a stately looking engineer, pulled a couple of levers before the ship surged forward. Nearly everyone, apart from Lucille, staggered to keep their footing as the main propellers whirled to life.
In moments, the length of the Causeway began to stretch out behind them, and the flaming Rider became a less immediate danger. Amelian breathed a sigh of relief, and looked around for the first time.
Above her head a sheet of canvas stretched over the ship like a canopy, with a metal port-hole just above her head. The canvas had swirls of black and grey across its immense length, and glowed with what appeared to be firelight just inside the immense container. Fire, an immense fire, was held captive in that bag somehow, and its power was harnessed to lift the hundreds of tones of steel that made up the ship.
The rest of this strange ship appeared to be an old cargo vessel, a refurbished ship that must be nearly eighty years old. Its sleek new metal railings built were around the somewhat rusted deck, and many parts of the ship glimmered from recent welds.
The shadow's voice brought her focus back, and she turned as Lucille said, "I'd like you and that old sergeant of yours at the helm, with Maxwell. I'd like an opinion on how long we should wait before I abandon my Captain."