Vikings battle Zeppelins while forbidden desires spark! (Swords Versus Tanks Book 2) (8 page)

Jasmine rubbed her eyes. This wasn't going to be a fair fight. Normally she preferred battles that way. She'd left Maud and Ranulph in the gatehouse. They'd be safe as long as they didn't go back to the hall...

"
Well?
"

Jasmine raised the mike. "Nearly." She tugged at the priest's voluminous sleeve. "Go on then."

The priest shot her an angry glance. He brushed down his sleeve then set to work, muttering and splashing holy water over the gleaming bombs.

The bay doors now framed Ragnar's keep. The stone biscuit tin was not the designated target. It was probably even empty. Pulse hammering in her ears, Jasmine edged over to the manual release levers. Without giving herself time to think, she yanked at the nearest and held her breath. The airship jolted upward.

Jasmine held her breath.

A few heartbeats, then a hollow boom, like a great wave thundering in a sea cave.

Jasmine exhaled.

The engines kicked in, and the airship swung into a turn.

The priest staggered, clutched his forehead then threw up.

Jasmine laughed. She was a traitor now, but not a murderer.

Lowenstein’s voice blared over the intercom. “
Klimt, you missed!
”

“Fuck you!” she replied. “You can have secrecy or accuracy.”

Lowenstein laughed. “
Never mind. It will do as a demonstration of force. But very well, you may tell the technician to relieve you.
”

#

Ragnar's hall shook, setting the dragon bones clattering in the rafters. Ranulph sprang to his feet, upsetting the bench.

A lump of stone crashed through the roof, bringing down half the dragon skeleton's ribcage. Bones, stones, slates and timber cascaded onto the long table, splintering its boards.

"To the keep!" bellowed Ranulph. He threw Lady Maud over his shoulder and barged towards the door.
And I told them to trust Jasmine’s honour
.

Behind him, Ragnar bellowed, “You heard Sir Ranulph! To the keep!”

Carrying Lady Maud well ahead of the rush, Ranulph burst out of the wooden great hall and stumbled on debris. Chunks of masonry covered the flame-lit courtyard.

A great voice crackled above the howl of the wind. “
Surrender! Surrender! Stand in the open with your hands raised.
”

Ranulph’s jaw dropped.

The keep would not provide them with refuge after all. Despite its rune-carved stones, the big stone tower now looked as if a Frost Giant had laid into it with a hammer.

King Ragnar slowed to a halt beside them. His voice was flat. “A demonstration. Lowenstein boasted of the harm he could do us…”

“This is not possible,” said Ranulph, in Western. “The Invaders don’t have magic.”

Again the voice crackled, “
Surrender! Surrender…!
”

Maud slid off Ranulph’s shoulder. She brushed down her gown. “Then they must have priests to bless their petards.”

From above came an odd double cough, then a continuous buzz.

Ranulph craned his neck.

Firelight flickering on its bloated belly, a horribly familiar black form spun across the stars to face into the wind. The air vessel shifted position to hover above the great hall.

“
Surrender! Surrender!
” repeated the voice.

“By Odin!” boomed King Ragnar, suddenly animated now he had an enemy to fight. “Springalds! Get that thing out my sky!"

Crews scuttled up the walls and undraped the war engines. They wound back the arms even as they brought the weapons to bear.

The springalds thumped. A dozen rune-inscribed bolts zipped out from the wall towers. Each hit the craft squarely, only to rebound and clatter on the stony courtyard.

Ranulph felt sick. "They have priests to bless the hull."

Ragnar shook his head. “The hull is not metal, so the runes don’t help. What’s that…?”

A shiny object dropped from the underside of the air vessel. The Great Hall exploded.

"Hjalti!" bellowed Ragnar.

Burning figures burst out of one of the main doors.

Ragnar ran forward, housecarls streaming behind him. "Little Brother!"

More petards fell from the underside of the airship. Ranulph flung himself on top of Lady Maud.

The night went white.

Then black.

Stones bounced off Ranulph’s back. Ears still ringing, he rolled off the girl and sat up. The explosion had torn a huge crater in the courtyard. Dead housecarls were strewn around it like young oaks uprooted by a winter storm. At the edge of the smoking pit lay Ragnar, his chest a mess of blood and smashed bone.

First bleakness, like bare sand left by a retreating wave. Then a tide of pure rage. Steelcutter came to Ranulph’s hand. He threw his head back and roared, "Come down and fight!"

"I can help with that," said Lady Maud, beside him.

Ranulph fought down the fury. Battle-madness would only hinder his revenge. "The vessel will be priest-blessed," he said.

"The surrounding air is not." Her fingers dug into his arm. "But you must vow to protect Jasmine."

#

Just as Jasmine strode back into the Main Deck, the airship lurched.

The great vessel was free of yet another stick of bombs.

Thuds came from the hull.

She forced herself to walk — not run — between the crew stations and was careful not to disturb the team of priests around their altar. Unlike a civilian dirigible, the Airship Bomber's Main Deck ran above the keel
inside
the envelope. The natives had nothing that could punch through the yielding sheets of woven firesilk, and if they had more exotic… Anomalies at their disposal, the priests were supposed to be able to protect the airship.

She reached the railings around the sunken Control Car in time to see something bang off its Flexiglass walls. It left behind a whitened dent.

Lowenstein flinched like a man who'd found an electric eel in his bathtub.

Jasmine laughed.

The Elitist twisted to glare up at her. Then came the rumble of the bombs doing their work. He laughed. "This is more like it!"

Jasmine frowned. "Most of them are civilians," she said.

"Fortune of war," said Lowenstein. "They need only stop projecting their psionic field." He reached out with his cane and tapped the bomb aimer’s shoulder. "Now the longships. Barbarian status symbols!"

The airship wheeled and glided over the small gatehouse which dominated the natural harbour at the base of the cliffs. Yet more bolts flew from the castle’s giant crossbows, rebounding from the firesilk or denting the Flexiglass.

"Careful of the gatehouse," said Jasmine. "We might need Lady Maud as a figurehead."

Lowenstein just laughed. "I think..." He began.

The airship lurched down. Stars whirled past and Jasmine's stomach leapt into her chest.

"Air pocket," said the pilot. "Dumping ballast." The airship juddered like a faulty elevator then halted, engines racing. "We're stuck in some weird shit atmospheric anomaly."

#

“Well done, Milady,” said Ranulph. “Hold her steady, if you will.” He leaned out from the parapet of the Sea Tower.

Below, the airborne monster nestled against the crags like an infernal salmon hugging a riverbank. The hull seemed to be silk stretched taut over longitudinal ribs. Even if were impervious to springald bolts, surely a sharp sword could saw through. His fingers tightened on Steelcutter. He just needed to find a way inside and get to grips with the crew.

A circular fence broke the smooth lines of the thing's spine. It had to be enclosing a trapdoor. Ranulph’s eyes narrowed. Could he really jump that far?

From behind came the distinctive jingle of dozens of men moving in mailshirts — the last of Ragnar’s housecarls. "Go back!"

"To what?" asked Thorolf. "We live, yet Ragnar is unavenged."

"Sir Ranulph, you are somewhat under-dressed," said Lady Maud, over their heads. "And we need that airship more than you need a heroic death."

The mailed warriors crowded around Ranulph. He was the only man in just doublet and hose. He nodded.

"Prepare yourself," said Lady Maud. "My sylph will help you all make the leap, but that is the last of my three wishes."

The craft swam up towards them.

Ranulph stepped back a few paces and sheathed Steelcutter. Around him, the housecarls followed suit, slinging shields and axes on their backs, scabbarding blades.

He sprinted towards the battlements, and threw himself into the void. Icy tendrils tangled his limbs. The stars rushed past.

His feet hit the airship. It yielded then threw him back up into the sky.

He flailed his arms and screamed, then landed again, this time on all fours. He spread-eagled himself on the silk, his heart hammering against his breastbone.

The silk reverberated to the drum beat of mailed housecarls striking its hull. Steeling himself, he raised his head and looked around. Three dozen warriors now clung to the wide dorsal of the airship, mail flickering in the light from the burning castle.

Maud stood on the battlements of the Sea Tower, arm outstretched, hair dancing like flames in the wind.

The airship juddered and tilted like a longship in a swell.

CHAPTER NINE

The Evade Now siren howled.

The Radar Operator yelped. "Multiple incoming missiles! We’re dead!"

Jasmine turned to the radar console. A swarm of glowing white dots filled the screen but there was no sudden impact. “Not yet.” She shouted, “Somebody fucking do something!”

Jasmine’s stomach dropped towards her boots.

"Emergency Ballast away," announced the Pilot.

The dots froze, as if etched into the screen, then slowly lined up and moved in file towards the centre of the display. The Radar Operator slapped the side of the console as if that would help. "Something’s wrong with the fucking valves."

The hairs stood up on the back of Jasmine’s neck. She leaned over the Control Car’s railings and tapped Lowenstein’s shoulder. "Parachute. Now."

#

The airship lifted, pressing Ranulph down into the taut silk skin, triggering cries of fear from the housecarls.

Ranulph forced himself up onto his knees. He waved Steelcutter and bellowed, “Gentlemen. Gather in to that fence.” Without waiting for their response, he crawled toward what he hoped would turn out to be an entrance.

The hatch wasn’t even bolted.

Clutching Steelcutter in one hand, Ranulph squeezed himself into the shaft. His foot found a rung and —

- the vessel twitched.

Ranulph’s shoe slipped and he plummeted, sword rattling on the rungs. He opened his legs, trying to brace against the walls, but found only a soft resistance.

His feet slammed into something...
someone
. The person grunted, crumpled, throwing him sideways.

Fabric broke Ranulph's fall, then tore.

Again, he plummeted.

#

Jasmine tightened Lowenstein's straps. "Pull the ripcord as soon as you're clear. Get to high ground. Use your flares so the other ship will pick you up."

The Elitist scientist nodded. "And you?"

"You're our Gate expert. I'm not — "

"False alarm, folks!" The Radar Operator thumped his apparatus. "Fucking heap of junk!” From above came a thud and a scream. The canvas ceiling tore. Glass shattered.
“Oh shit!
"

Jasmine drew her Boarding Gun and turned to the source of the noise.

Sir Ranulph now towered from the top of the radar console, sword raised, sparks flying from his boots. He was still in his feasting clothes, but soot marred his white shirt.

Jasmine felt a pang of relief. If Sir Ranulph was alive, then so was Maud. She shoved Lowenstein towards the nearest escape hatch. "Get out and jump while we're still near land."

Ranulph glared at her over the heads of the crew. Without breaking eye contact, he hammered his fists down. Steelcutter’s pommel smashed into the Radar Operator’s skull. Bone cracked. The corpse slammed into the deck.

Men and women erupted out of their seats and fumbled for their Boarding Guns. The priests abandoned their altar and scurried toward the stern.

Sir Ranulph sprang clear of the console. His sword licked out, daubing the cabin walls with blood, and still he advanced on Jasmine.

The crew scurried across deck, scattering like chickens before the feudal killing machine. A dozen mailed warriors dropped through the canvas ceiling and landed amongst them.

Jasmine raised her Boarding Gun and fired, even as she recognised Thorolf, the captain of Ragnar’s bodyguard. The dart zipped into the warrior’s mailed breast, then dropped to the floor at his feet.

Thorolf roared and swung his axe. It slashed the canvas ceiling and arced towards her skull.

She pivoted out of the way. Her Stormgun hung from the weapon rack at the far end of the deck. She sprang towards it.

There was a tearing sound. A warrior’s boots thudded into the deck in front of her. He raised his sword.

She shot him in the face, dropped the Boarding Gun, then lunged for the gun rack. Her fingers fastened around the oversized shotgun Lowenstein had given her. Coming to her feet, she flipped the sword-bayonet forward and summoned up her battle rage.

An axe blade scythed at her midriff.

Jasmine batted at the shaft with her stock, then – screaming — raised her hands for a stabbing counter-attack. The bayonet plunged through the barbarian’s beard and into his throat above the mailshirt. Fresh blood scalded her face. The body fell at her feet. "Bastard!"

Around the cabin, Boarding Guns snapped darts uselessly into chainmail, bayonets clashed with axe and sword. Blood splashed the Flexiglass and sloshed the deck. The port Escape Hatch swung open. A screaming woman flung herself down the chute and vanished into the dark beyond. An ice wind snaked through the tunnel, tearing at Jasmine’s hair — the hatch had jammed open.

Sir Ranulph, unperturbed, carved his way yet closer.

A barbarian hurtled at her, sword raised for the kill, armoured bulk obscuring the knight's approach.

Jasmine braced against the Chart Table and aimed the Stormgun.