The Fury Yet To Come Read online

  ‘If they ain’t dead,’ said Fallon, ‘they’re captured—and that’s worse, believe you me.’

  Across from Gallows, Cooper’s cheeks expanded like a puffer fish. He sprayed chunky offal onto the floor.

  ‘Well that says it all, really,’ said Rocco.

  The major looked down at the kid. ‘Get it out your system, boy. Better to do it now.’

  Rocco’s hand shot up.

  ‘This better not be a complaint, Rocco.’

  ‘What I gotta ask needs asking: Does anyone have a bloody clue what the Idari want? The Viator said it’s a power struggle between the emperors, but here we are weeks later and they’re on our doorstep. What gives?’

  Gallows had wondered the same thing—the Idari had been posturing for almost a year, but always far enough away that no-one cared.

  ‘Any captured Idari men have been too dead to question,’ said Fallon. ‘They kill themselves when we get close. Personally, I reckon they’ve been planning this for years, building a fleet in secret. Reckon they hit Horizon Bridge to lure us and the Ryndarans so they could sweep in and take the Isles. Something down here’s got ’em spoiling for a scrap—an’ right now they’re winning.’

  ‘Do we know how the Idari war machine become so advanced?’ asked Helmsley. ‘I was under the impression they eschewed ignicite-derived technology. Isn’t that why they cut ties with the rest of the world in the first place? I mean, they’ve been silent for decades, and as far as anyone knows, they don’t use airships. What could they possibly have in their arsenal that makes them think they can take on anything more than a first-generation airship?’

  Fallon shook his head. ‘Damn good questions and ones we ain’t got the answers to—but they’ve got enough juice to kick our asses.’

  Gallows had trekked across the world, made friends and enemies all the way from here to Tarevia—but never did he imagine he’d cross the borders of Idaris. Now it seemed inevitable.

  ‘All we need to know is that we can gut ’em.’ Fallon announced. ‘But don’t get complacent, Rocco—these bastards took out the Enlighten, and just ’cause they don’t use airships, don’t mean they’re backward savages.’

  Gallows stared at the floor. The RDN Enlighten was the biggest ship in the Dalthean Navy—she was a monster, and the Idari destroyed her, along with Horizon Bridge. Idari ships loaded with explosives struck its hull, sinking it into the Discordant Sea. They used kuramanusa slaves, sacrificing as many of their own men as those they killed. Gods help them if they made it to Dalthea.

  ‘We got thirty minutes before we hit enemy patrols,’ said Fallon. ‘Memorise the map and the location of the munitions factory. We take care of the double-A gunboats and let the rotorheads do the heavy lifting on the beach. Reinforcements from 13th and 14th Platoons will clear the islands further in after we’ve shovelled the shit out the way.’

  Beyond the confines of the boat, the rush of the sea clamoured. Shadows crossed Major Fallon’s face, split only by the fiery glow of the ignium lamp. ‘Screw fighting for home, liberty, love and all that other shit. Positive emotions get all the glory—here’s to anger, rage and fury.’

  The blurred view of the prison cell spilled into Gallows’ view again, like he was waking from a trance. His own sweat reeked in his nose and the urge to spit possessed him.

  ‘What… What just happened?’ His chest tightened. ‘What are you? What in all hells did you do to me?’

  ‘Hush now, Dalthean.’ A film of moisture glistened on Nidra’s brow. ‘You talked and you talked…’

  ‘No…’ Gallows’ stomach knotted. ‘How… What are you?’

  Nidra said nothing—she stood there, as still as an ice sculpture.

  Gallows’ wrists burned with the pain of being suspended from the ceiling, but his belly filled with the sensation of dropping—as though an anchor weighed him down, pulling him further into the black depths of an unknown sea.

  He had tried to fight Nidra’s command, a small fragment inside screaming at him to stop—but he couldn’t. He’d heard his own voice like it came from someone else. It was like being trapped under glass—aware of what was going on in front of him but powerless to stop it.

  ‘What are you?’ Gallows’ heart jabbed at his ribs. ‘Are you even human?’

  ‘Hush, hush, save your energy.’ Nidra’s words spilled like treacle. She caressed Gallows’ face. ‘Such passion, such anger, Corporal. I enjoy your fire, but alas, I have a role to play. Give me the answers I seek, and you can rest. I promise you.’

  ‘I… can’t tell you what I don’t know. Are you done?’

  Her eyes narrowed and the back of her talon glided across Gallows’ chest. ‘We’re only just beginning.’

  II

  Gallows never got used to the smell.

  Nidra sent two male kuramanusa slaves into his cell to feed him twice a day, always stiff leaves and sour berries—just enough to prevent him from starving while still keeping him weak.

  She sent the same slaves each time. Half of their faces displayed intricate patterns—not the same tattoos as Nidra and the Idari soldiers, but thin scars. Gallows didn’t know if the slaves were Idari, but it didn’t matter—whatever identities they might have had before had been purged.

  Like a faint raincloud, the influence of Nidra’s mind control hung over him—receded to the distance maybe, but always there.

  Sera was the only thing that kept Gallows sane as the hours crawled by. Sera, and the life they’d promised each other. She was what kept Gallows from giving up.

  Today, the slaves had cleaned him up and redressed his wounds. They’d even untied him and marched him around the cell to refresh his aching leg muscles. Gallows spoke, but they said nothing back.

  ‘So, I’ve made my peace that you guys don’t offer room service,’ Gallows started as they strung him back up, ‘but if you could put a bucket under me…’

  When the last kuramanusa left, he didn’t close the door behind him.

  Gallows’ jaw clenched. Which means—

  Nidra swept in, and the sight of her turned Gallows’ chest hard and his skin cold.

  ‘Evening,’ he said. ‘Fine night.’ He hoped he’d masked the fear in his voice.

  ‘Your throat is dry, dog,’ she said. ‘Here.’

  Gallows recoiled but Nidra pressed a cup to his lip.

  ‘Drink.’ She pushed, tipping water into Gallows’ mouth. ‘There. Isn’t that bet—’

  Gallows spat the water into her face. She flinched, her brow drawing in, the cursive patterns on her face sharpening.

  ‘Water is precious,’ her voice tinkled.

  ‘I’ll manage. I live next to the sea.’

  Nidra’s mouth twitched. ‘Are you ready to begin, Corporal?’

  He let out an animal growl. ‘We’ve been through it all.’

  Gallows wouldn’t take it any more—he would not relive the deaths of his squad mates again. This time, he’d resist. He’d refuse Nidra’s commands. He’d stop her.

  Hands behind her back, Nidra bent forward, chest parallel to the floor, hair tumbling around her tilting, love-heart face. ‘Indulge me.’

  22nd Day of Musa

  The crescent moon filled the sea.

  Upon its surface, twelve blades scoured the water, violating the tranquillity and trailing thin, white arrowheads. Steeped in deep night beyond, the horizon slept.

  Absent in the sky were the songs of birds, the whistle of wind—only the bone-white gaze of the moon was present, hanging like a slash in the black canvas sky.

  The assault boats ploughed like dark phantoms. Serene and silent—still, like the moment between inhaling and exhaling.

  The hatch atop vessel AB-04 opened, and Corporal Gallows positioned himself at the vessel’s manual artillery cannon, overlooking the boat’s bow. It was stupid optimism, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. He made sure his helmet was secure; it didn’t feel like it would afford much protection. With trembling fingers, he gripped the controls,
adjusted the sights and checked for loose parts—then checked it all over again.

  Moonlight illuminated the sky with the sheen of sharpened steel. Constellations glinted in the silver-blue sky, hundreds of patterned pinholes. Back in Dalthea, the stars were veiled from lingering smog—but seeing hundreds of them here, clustered high in the vast, infinite expanse… Gallows almost forgot there was a war on.

  The assault ship soared over the crest of a wave, sea spray washing over the curve of her hull. Electricity crackled over Gallows’ skin and his heart beat in slow, heavy thumps, like a ram battering the gates of a castle. Thunder rumbled at his back, amplified by the engines of his allies’ craft. His breath quickened.

  Gallows thought of Sera—of how peaceful she looked when he’d left her. It made his chest ache.

  A screech like the wail of a firework expanded across the sky—a flare. It erupted in a shower of fire.

  And shone a light on Hell.

  Gallows’ heart silenced. ‘Gods above.’

  Idari ships—dozens. Their ornate red and gold hulls resembled the armoured scales of great sea monsters beneath the light of the flare.

  ‘Incoming!’ Gallows screamed.

  Warning bells sounded and columns of fire leapt into the sky. The assault boat sheared the water as it picked up speed, heading straight toward the enemy.

  Then it started.

  Fire and mortar shot rained down, cannons boomed and bullets shrieked.

  Gallows gripped the triggers and fired. The world recoiled with each shot. He adjusted his aim and fired again, laying waste to a small Idari gunboat.

  Searing heat filled Gallows’ lungs and choked the air from him. The assault boat rocked from side to side as more ordnance hammered down.

  A chain of explosions detonated along the horizon. Gallows clenched his teeth and maintained his assault. He risked a glance to the side, for no other reason than to convince his panicking mind that he wasn’t hurtling into enemy territory alone. As far as he could tell, none of his allies had been neutralised. Their own cannons didn’t stay silent for a moment—the stench of melting metal and burning meat filled Gallows’ nostrils, and it took everything he had in him to keep from retching.

  His vessel charged straight at an enemy boat, cannon convulsing in his hands. It was a direct hit—but the enemy ship rammed Gallows’ assault boat, sending it veering off-course.

  ‘Shit!’ Gallows yelled, ribs mashing into the rail at his side. He almost tipped over the edge and into the murky brine.

  Scrambling back into position, Gallows gripped the controls like a man overboard clutching a makeshift raft—only to be confronted by the wide and manic gaze of an Idari soldier as he leapt from his burning boat and onto the hull of assault boat 04.

  He thundered towards Gallows, blade high in the air, inhuman scream bursting from his lungs. He got so close, Gallows could see the grey of his eyes and the blue and silver etchings on his skin—before he swivelled the cannon and turned the Idari into a smudge of red gore.

  Bullets from repeater rifles punched out from the ship’s bow hatches. The other Dalthean assault craft followed suit, their bullets sewing holes into the sides of enemy vessels.

  ‘—push through, keep going!’

  ‘—gut the bastards!’

  ‘—so many of ’em, we’ll never—’

  Gunfire drowned out voices and artillery threatened to bring the sky down. Gallows’ stomach lurched in his throat as the boat shoved against a wave.

  ‘Illumination!’ the gunner of another assault boat yelled.

  A flare lit the sky.

  Bullets zinged off the hull of the assault boat but Gallows kept up his attack, correcting his aim with every shove and jostle of the sea. His ordnance chewed through steel and wood—blowing bodies apart, exploding limbs and sending men screaming into the depths with flames licking their skin.

  The beach grew closer but the enemy forces were coming thick and fast. A Dalthean assault boat cut across Gallows’ bow—spitting death and weaving between enemy ships—only to explode and disappear like fog on the sea.

  For every Idari vessel destroyed, two more took its place. Gallows wanted to speak, to call out to his comrades below, but the words died in his throat. Fear wrestled with adrenaline.

  Then something loomed in the sky above Gallows.

  Airships ploughed overhead, guns blazing and leaving a symphony of fire in their wake. Fires danced on Idari ships, blackening their decorative, sun-red hulls.

  Another wave of airships soared past, deploying their payload and raining destruction on the horizon. Gallows watched, mouth open, as the dancing fire wrapped around flailing bodies.

  The sea threw the boat from side to side. Shrill, whistling slashes punctured the air—mortars. The surviving Idari were not deterred by Dalthea’s Royal Sky Fleet.

  ‘Incoming!’ screamed Gallows.

  Shells rained around the boat, punching into the water and exploding around her hull.

  But one of them founds its mark. AB-08 exploded, its husk spinning over the surface of the sea.

  ‘Gods above and below…’ Gallows adjusted his turret, compensating for the rise and fall as the boat bounced upon the water. An enemy vessel filled his sights—he pulled hard on the triggers, sending a volley of shells hurtling towards his target.

  Not one of them hit.

  The enemy took advantage of its good fortune and changed its bearing to face him.

  ‘Evasive manoeuvres!’ he called below, but his words disappeared amidst the chaos of the battle.

  When Gallows looked up again, he saw an enemy ready his mortar. It wouldn’t matter if Gallows dropped below or stayed in the open—a direct hit destroyed them either way. All he could do was fight back.

  He got the ship in his sights, and pulled the trigger. Shells glanced off the enemy vessel’s prow, tearing holes in its armour—but still it remained.

  Gallows fired again—

  Nothing. Gallows kicked the hatch at his feet open. ‘What’s happening?’ He called.

  ‘Feeding tube’s jammed!’ Gideon Helmsley called up to Gallows. ‘I-I’ll fix it!’

  ‘Come on! Come on!’ Gallows pressed on the triggers again, but the cannon stayed silent.

  Closer now, Gallows could see the Idari soldier priming the mortar.

  Shit.

  A deafening shriek of machinery, and AB-02 speared into the enemy vessel, sending it off-course. Its mortar shell plunged into the depths behind Gallows.

  ‘Fixed!’ yelled Helmsley.

  Gallows growled. With a single shot, he destroyed the enemy vessel. Never had he been so happy to see something explode.

  Thank Musa.

  Resolving in the distance, the island’s harbour lights glinted. Enemy soldiers dotted the sand, scurrying like insects.

  They were almost there.

  Keep pushing…

  More friendly airships charged through the air, so close Gallows could see RSF Lion’s Pride painted on one’s port side.

  But the enemy saw them too—a barrage of anti-air fire split the sky.

  Where in hells did that come from? Through his weapon’s lens, Gallows saw the answer—the Idari on the beach weren’t running—they were readying a portable double-A cannon onto the beach.

  Gallows cranked the cannon and angled it—he got the double-A in his sights and opened fire.

  He was out of range.

  The anti-aircraft weapon spat fire into the sky, hitting not one but two Dalthean airships. One of them exploded—its flaming metal carcass spun into the sea.

  The rear thruster of the Lion’s Pride belched black smoke and wavered in the air before crashing into the jungle beyond.

  Bullets pinged across the assault boat’s hull as the beach drew closer into view.

  ‘Is that all the gun boats?’ Gallows called below.

  Rocco’s face appeared beneath him. ‘Reckon so! Get your arse down here!’

  When Gallows swallowed, it was like shoving
a razor down his throat. ‘Copy!’

  No eyes met in the blackened belly of the vessel. Like the Gods themselves were fighting over it, the churning sea shoved and tugged the boat. Gallows’ heart stabbed his chest with every impact of a crashing wave, every shake and shudder.

  His fingers whitened against the brass fixtures and sunburst-orange copper frame of the Vindicator. Gallows wasn’t a fan of the repeater rifle—taut wires fed high-pressure ignium gas into the chamber, meaning cartridges were loaded into the barrel automatically—but the guns were heavy and awkward to carry.

  Dalthean troops mocked the old flintlock rifles the Idari still used, but the Vindicator’s bullet-a-second rate of fire screwed their accuracy. That, and they were still much slower than the spinning gyroguns affixed to armoured motorcarriages and emplacements—and the Idari had no qualms about using those.

  Gallows’ palms sweated. The gun’s boxy magazine added to its unwieldy weight. How many men had lost their lives because their weapon was too heavy to raise in time before an Idari kiro cut them down? Give me a shortsword any day of the week. Gallows always felt more comfortable with a light blade than a slow, heavy, mechanical gun—his childhood had been spent scrapping in narrow alleyways and running from the City Watch—and when other kids and coppers were bigger than you, you soon learned to favour speed over power.

  Behind his left shoulder, Gallows heard Cooper’s slow and shaky breathing, and sensed Rocco bouncing up and down on his toes.

  ‘Helmsley—tighten your helmet and make sure your Ginny’s secure,’ ordered Sergeant Omari.

  Helmsley tapped at the inflatable buoyancy aid around his waist. If anyone fell overboard before the landing, it was his job to jump in and fish them out. ‘Right here,’ he said, trying—and failing—to sound calm. ‘Though I’m not a very good swimmer.’

  Omari patted him on the shoulder. ‘That’s why you got the Ginny.’