Flying over Queen's Falls Castle was always a breathtaking experience. If you didn't have clearance, that could be taken literally. The placement of the castle was no mistake and the canon and air forces which guarded it from attack by air were world renowned. Gareth should know, he'd been a pilot in the Queen's Air Guard for four years. The steam engine which powered his flier was the pinnacle of its kind. The secrets of its manufacture from the alloys used to the interior design was a state secret. Six guns, capable of spitting hot death with efficiency and incredible accuracy, had brought down hundreds of drones in practice sessions. All of these facts played through his head as he saw something neither he nor any of his predecessors had seen in twenty years. The castle was under attack.
Training kicked in, and he flew low over the bridge. They had already drawn up the hundred step long section cutting each span in two. That didn't do any good. The attack had come from under the waters. He swooped down and targeted the boats. Bullets ripped into the sides of the ingenious constructions. What appeared to be wooden sides, were merely partitions covering metal. He craned his head back over his shoulder and watched as other pilots followed his lead. None of the impacts had any obvious effect.
The craft had popped up from the swift waters of the Old Man like corks in a bath. Once above the surface, long pincers clamped on the rocks around the castle's base. Sinking them was, if not impossible, then at least fruitless in the short term. Men swarmed up ladders and from there onto the cliffs. Each wore some sort of armor which was equipped with talons designed to cling in place. They would climb a bit and then fire upon the few guards able to train their own guns on the invaders. The castle hadn't been designed to be defended from underneath.
As Gareth came around for a second run, he had to admit the whole affair was incredibly well planned. This time, he trained his guns on the climbers. They were spaced far enough apart that aiming at more than one at a time was a challenge. Still, with the dozen fliers in the air, they should be able to pick them off a few at a time. It did mean flying close to the water's surface, a different sort of challenge given the updrafts involved.
As he passed over the rushing river a third time to fire upon the interlopers, something burst from the surface of the Old Man. Whatever it was, it tore through his right wing and sent his flier tumbling. He had less than a second to free himself from it and fall to the water below. Hitting the water at the speed of his flight, he skipped like a stone for two or three hops. Once under the water, he didn't bother trying to swim. The current was too strong for any man, no matter how strong, to fight against it for very long. He saved his strength for the one chance he had, grabbing one of the many supports securing the bridge to bedrock. If he missed that, it would be a long fall to the jagged stones below.
#action, #ScottRoche, #Steampunk, #CastleStorming
Story and Characters (c)/by Scott Roche
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