July 30, 2013

• Thunder and Flame

  The skies were falling.

              Flaming wreckage, spent shot, and wounded aeronauts rained down on the roofs and streets and squares of Aldreach.  The air was full of cannonfire’s distant roar, like the coming of a summer storm.  The morning sun shone in wan streaks through a haze of steam and smoke, and the sky flickered and rumbled.  Now and then, some great comet of burning wood streaked down to kick up a spray of tiles or shingles or cobblestones where it landed.

              What was left of the Tern ground down against a temple spire in the western part of town. A gust of wind tugged at it, but it had lost too much lift.  More and more, its weight settled on the temple’s roof until the clay tiles stove inward and the arches below cracked and the whole mess crumpled inward.  A few last balloonet cells escaped the wreckage, bobbing upward like bubbles from a drowning man’s lips.

              Far away to the east, just outside the city walls, the Lanius settled to an awkward semi-landing against the foot of the Little Bull.  The leaderless aeronauts threw out a makeshift anchor, and began the arduous task of gathering up the bodies of the slain.  Their decks were slick with blood.

              The Culver spiraled downward, still sinking despite the loss of her engine. Midshipman Renatus Brigg clung to the binnacle with both hands and screamed.

              In the station-yard, two trainloads of stranded refugees huddled for what shelter they could, cringing at every roar or boom they heard from the combatants above.

              In the north, Argan soldiers marched down from the ruins of the battery on Paega’s Top, forming a column five abreast.  They met with little resistance as they tramped down Cobbler’s Row, between streets of boarded-up shops and empty townhouses.

              And always,everywhere, I continued to act out my function. I stood beside an Argan aeronaut as he was caught in one of Goshawk’s broadsides.  I wrapped my arms around a Raelunder soldier as he tumbled over the ship’s side.  I sang my song to the engine crew of the Tern as her boilers blew.

              I take no pleasure in my function.  It simply is.  I simply am.

  
  

  Copyright Christopher Russo © 2013.   Plagiarizers will be flogged around the fleet.

  • 9:35 pm
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