The Amtrak Wars - Ironmaster Part 79

Go down!" As the wind tore the words from his mouth, the pilot and the centre-section of the flying-horse was suddenly engulfed in an orange-white sheet of flame. The smooth forward motion ended with a sickening lurch and the Consul-General, the right side of his face now hideously seared and blistered, his sightless eye steaming in its socket and with the back of his robe on fire, found himself projected into a world where sky and earth revolved and became one.

He clutched desperately at the sides of the c.o.c.kpit in an effort to steady himself, but the wooden structure around him came apart in his hands. The straps that held him to his seat slipped from his shoulders and he found himself floating on a cushion of air. Below him lay a patchwork quilt of red, brown and orange fields. The world had stopped spinning; had separated once more into earth and sky.

The shock of what was happening, the suffocating rush of air, numbed the shrieking pain and drove the terror from his mind. His education had not included the chilling fact that bodies in free fall accelerate at a rate of 32 feet per second until they reach a speed of 120 m.p.h.

A velocity that is terminal in every sense of the word.

At 2,000 feet, with arms and legs outstretched, you still have a few moments left in which to feel you could fly for ever and that - if you only knew the secret - you could skim down like a bird in a graceful curve to alight gently on your feet. It is only when you pa.s.s through the 1,000-foot mark that you suddenly realise the ground is rising to meet you at a frightening speed and that it is all going to end quite differently.

Cowering under the canopy of their box and surrounded protectively by their bodyguards, Yamas.h.i.ta and Min-Orota watched with appalled fascination as the Consul-General plummeted to earth, arms and legs flailing like a deranged mechanical doll. Wonderful.

Toshiro had long awaited this moment, but he still flinched as the Consul-General punched a six-inch-deep outline of his body into the ground and split open like an over-ripe melon. And so it ends...

Seized by a sudden feeling of exhilaration, he forced his skittering horse to wheel, then galloped off the field as the remaining debris fluttered to earth around the smouldering corpse.

Incredible, thought Jodi. She glanced at her digital watch - one of three AMEXICO had thoughtfully provided to help co-ordinate their getaway. So much death and destruction, but less than eight minutes had elapsed since Brickman had blown up the first plane and they had begun their run from the pavilion. She saw Cadillac rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. His face was streaked with tears.

Steve waved them forward over the bank. 'Okay, c'mon! Let's go for it!" The four of them scrambled on to the field and ran towards the parked aircraft. They joined Kelso under the tail of number twelve.

He was holding the end-plate - a safety device the d.i.n.ks had begun fitting over the nozzles of the five rocket tubes to prevent accidental ignition or damage whilst aircraft were being manhandled - and he was ashen-faced. 'This one's not tubed up!" Steve stared at him, thunderstruck. 'Not ' 'The rocket tray's empty! LOOK!" It was true.

Steve's stomach turned over. 's.h.i.t, s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t!" He seized Jodi and Cadillac by the shoulder.

'Check these next two! I'll do Nine!" The boosters were fitted to the launching trolley, but the tray was empty. They all were. Some idiot d.i.n.k had stuck end-plates on all the trays - presumably because he thought they looked better that way. Jodi and Cadillac joined up with him as he raced back to Kelso. 'What a jacka.s.s!" He punched his thigh angrily. 'And they were there, right in front of us all the time!

Jeer!" 'At least we've got a cartload of rockets,' said Cadillac.

'Yeah. And you can thank Mo-Town they're already primed! Start emptying your pockets!" Steve hurriedly divested himself of most of his grenades and spare magazines. Cadillac did the same, pa.s.sing them to Jodi and Kelso.

'We'll load, you two cover us!'

'We'll never make it,' said Kelso.

'We're gonna have a d.a.m.ned good try! But maybe we'll have to go with three tubes instead of a full -' Steve suddenly realised that Clearwater wasn't with them.

Clearwater had left the others as soon as she realised they needed more time to put right whatever it was that had gone wrong. She did not understand the workings of the flying-horses, but she knew that only she had the power to hold back the warriors on the far side of the field. She could sense their mounting wrath and knew they would soon rally. They must not be allowed to strike at the cloud warrior. If he and Cadillac were overwhelmed, all would be lost. But she also had another task: to avenge the Plain folk.

Steve and the others paused for an instant and watched her run towards the middle of the field.

'What the elf-cfr does she think she's doing?" cried Kelso.

'She's going to buy us some time,' murmured Steve. He moved towards the rocket cart.

'But she's not even armed!'

'Armed?" Cadillac gave a contemptuous laugh as the sense of belonging welled up within him. It was like meeting a long-lost friend. 'Watch and take heed, sand-burrower!

You are about to witness the real power of the Plainfolk!" When the first five flying-horses had been inexplicably blown out of the sky, the two domain-lords had a.s.sumed the catastrophe was either an accident or the work of some malevolent deity. But when an explosion in the compound had been followed by several more which had reduced the workshops to a blazing heap of rubble, both realised the Heron Pool was under systematic attack.

But from whom? Before anyone could begin to search for an answer, two more flying-horses had disintegrated dangerously close to where they stood and the Consul-General had been hurled from the skies -half-digging his own grave in the process. Where was this invisible enemy? Lord Yama-s.h.i.ta feared the divine Wrath of the kami like all Iron Masters, but the Heron Pool had not been struck by sky thunderbolts. This was the handiwork of ruthless men!

It was at this point that the first glimmerings of an answer came. The observer from the second escort plane which, with its sister craft, had been attempting an emergency landing when they were destroyed, had not been killed outright. The wreckage in which he was trapped had hit the ground at a shallow angle, splintering and tearing apart as it slithered towards the grandstand.

Although almost every bone in his body was broken, the dying samurai had somehow found the strength to gasp a few strangled words to the nearest of those who knelt over him.

His reported sighting of five people dressed in the colours of slaves lurking near the four remaining flying-horses was rapidly conveyed to Lord Min-Orota.

He and Yama-s.h.i.ta shared the sense of shock and bewilderment that gripped those around them, but while fear might have loosened their bowels, their brains had not turned to jelly. Both men reached the same conclusion at almost the same instant. What had happened was the result of a revolt by the slave-workers at the Heron Pool! It was a stupendous act of folly for which they, and countless others, would pay dearly.

Since his own men were, at that moment, falling back

in disarray, he called upon Lord Yama-s.h.i.ta to dispatch some of his mounted samurai to investigate. The domain-lord had just pa.s.sed this order down the chain of command when a single white-clad figure was sighted advancing across the field towards them. Neither man could fathom what this slim solitary figure hoped to achieve, but the slave's appearance was an intolerable act of defiance that had to be crushed.

Immediately!

Rising to his feet, Yama-s.h.i.ta aimed his lacquered staff at the offending slave and screamed an order to his samurai bodyguard. Lord Min-Orota promptly followed suit. Leaving ten of their number to shield their masters, both sets of samurai - some sixty in all - left their positions around the canopied box and ran down on to the field.

Some drew their long-swords, the others pulled arrows from the quivers on their back. Fitting them to their bows, they began a slow, deliberate advance upon the intruders.

Yama-s.h.i.ta sent a second hurried order to the troop of hors.e.m.e.n who were preparing to move off. They were to ignore this white-clad individual and proceed along the northern stone-walled edge of the field before cutting across to the four flying horses.

As he spoke, his brain was chilled by an unearthly cry - the piercing ululation of a Mute summoner.

Kelso, who had been roped in to help load the trays, almost dropped the two rockets he was carrying. 'What the fu ?"

'Keep going, keep going!" shouted Steve. He and Cadillac had already got two rockets fitted in the ring clamps under all four machines. But two were not enough. He had talked about going on three, but what they really needed was a full load. They didn't need four planes, but with their escape now hanging in the balance they had to keep all options open.

Jodi, who had been crouching by the gra.s.s-covered bank to guard against a sneak attack from the rear, decided to lend a hand. Holstering her pistol, she ran towards the cart. Halfway across, the ground shuddered violently, throwing her against one of the wheels. Looking up, she saw that the tremor had caused several of the rockets to slide partly out of the racks. She hauled herself up and caught one just before it toppled to the ground.

Clearwater, her feet now planted firmly astride and with her arms raised to form the letter X, felt Talisman's power flow into her from the earth and sky. To those watching in the crowded grandstand, her body seemed to be surrounded by a shimmering veil of light. With a swift movement she brought her arms down and her fingertips ogether, sighting at Yama-s.h.i.ta through the V made by her thumbs.

There was another sudden rumble of earth-thunder. A jet of smoke burst from the ground in front of her, then it split apart, becoming a ragged fissure that raced away across the field towards the centre of the grandstand. The earth heaved, throwing the advancing samurai to the ground, then, an instant later, the quake struck the packed stand, causing the tiers to fall in on each other as the supporting structure collapsed.

The detachment of mounted samurai who had started to gallop along the northern edge of the field hauled on their reins and milled about in confusion. Drawing his sword, their leader wheeled his horse around on its rear legs, shouting at his men to rally and attack the white-clad figure.

Clearwater flung her left arm out sideways towards the stone wall, then slowly swept her outstretched fingers upwards. The wall shivered as it responded to her call. It rippled along its length like a grey-brown snake stirring from sleep. It cracked and rattled as the stones worked themselves loose and then flew into the air like fallen leaves swept up in a whirlwind. And with her right hand, she summoned the wall behind the pavilion to come to her aid.

* . . The eagles shah be his golden arrows, the stones of the earth his hammer and a nation shall be forged from the fires of War.

The Plainfolk shall be as a bright sword in the hands of Talisman, their Saviour!

Man and horse were utterly overwhelmed by the airborne avalanche. But the stones continued to fly, further and faster and in ever greater numbers, raining down from both sides upon the rest of Yamas.h.i.ta's troops, into the wreckage of the grandstand, and on to the access road beyond where Min-Orota's line-officers were making another attempt to marshal their demoralised troops.

On the field in front of the stand, the shaken samurai rose on unsteady feet and summoned up their courage.

Several warriors had been felled by stones from the wall.