Age of Aztec

TWENTY-SEVEN

Same Day

“Reston. Reston!”

Vaughn’s voice, coming to him as though from miles away, at the other end of a long tunnel.

“Reston, you fuckwit, wake up!”

“Ladylike as ever, Vaughn,” he said, or rather tried to say, but his mouth and throat were clogged with dust and all he managed was a choking fit.

“Reston, get up. Arse in gear. It’s started. It’s happening.”

The dust was in his eyes too. He blinked hard to part his eyelids. It was like cracking eggshells.

Vaughn’s face was coated with grey. Her hair was bedraggled and hoary.

“You look a sight,” he croaked.

“So do you. There’s blood all down the side of your face. Gash in your head, but I don’t think it’s too deep. Here we go. Up you come.”

Stuart clambered shakily to his feet, Vaughn helping.

“You said…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. It was abundantly clear what had started.

There were figures in the air. Glittering armoured creatures. They flashed to and fro like dragonflies.

Battle stations. Tenochtitlan was under siege.

As he watched, a familiar iridescent shape soared overhead, brandishing an equally familiar spear-launcher. Braking to a hover, Huitzilopochtli targeted the apex of a nearby ziggurat. A spear streaked down. The building’s top storey erupted in flames. Stuart felt the rumble of the blast through his soles.

Armour-clad Serpent Warriors swarmed up to engage with the god, but he was already jetting off at speed, disappearing over the rooftops.

In his wake came a dark figure, almost a silhouette. Itzpapalotl, the Obsidian Butterfly. The Serpents turned their attention on her. Plasma bolts came her way thick and fast, but Itzpapalotl evaded them with ease, jinking and barrel-rolling. She flew right into the midst of the Serpents, where they were clustered together the most tightly. She shot through them like a black dart, emerging the other side unscathed.

Serpents fell from the sky, parts of them missing. Severed arms, legs, heads tumbled with them.

“Can’t stay here gawping,” Vaughn said. “Look, we’ve got a way out.”

Stuart turned. The section of outer wall they’d been put up against for execution was no more. A hole had been blown in the upper part of it, and the landslide of rubble made a kind of steep ramp leading to the gap.

“What about Tlanextic? Where — ?”

“He’s fucked off to repel the attack. Must’ve assumed we were dead but didn’t have time to check. More pressing matters to attend to.”

“Dead?”

“There was a whole bunch of debris on top of us. We were buried, you more than me. I’ve been digging you out from under it for the past ten minutes while all hell’s been breaking loose.”

“You saved me? When you could have got away on your own?”

“Don’t make a big thing out of it. Call me sentimental, but I reckon I owe you one.”

“Actually I think you owe me two at least.”

“And the Reston arrogance ruins the moment yet again. Come on.”

Vaughn set off up the escarpment of rubble. It was loose and treacherous, and she was obliged to scramble on all fours like a lizard to reach the summit. Stuart made even heavier weather of it. Pain was setting in. He felt bruised all over, his body battered as it had never been before. Nothing worked quite the way it should. His head throbbed. Nevertheless he made it to the top, where Vaughn was flapping a hand frantically at him.

“Almost all the boats have gone. There’s only one left. I think they’re having engine trouble or something. Crew are running around like blue-arsed flies trying to fix the problem.”

She slithered down the other side of the wall onto the narrow strip of cliff edge below. Stuart could see the boat bobbing in the harbour. It was a garbage scow; bags of refuse that its crew had decided not to load sat heaped on the quay alongside it. He could faintly hear a sailor on deck yelling down through a hatch to someone in the hold. A moment later a head popped up from the hatchway and a hand holding an adjustable wrench gesticulated to the wheelhouse. The sailor relayed a message to whoever was in the scow’s wheelhouse — the captain, presumably — and then there was a mechanical coughing and a blurt of diesel smoke. A cheer went up from the other crewmembers.

“Hurry the fuck up!” Vaughn shouted at Stuart. “They’ve got it started.”

Stuart lowered himself stiffly to the clifftop while Vaughn sprinted for the zigzagging leading down to the harbour. She yelled and waved as she ran, hoping to catch the scow’s attention.

Meanwhile, the siege continued. Huitzilopochtli and Itzpapalotl were, as far as Stuart could tell, the sole attackers, but the two of them were causing enough devastation and destruction for a strike force a hundred times as large. They operated according to a pattern. Huitzilopochtli inflicted property damage while Itzpapalotl ran interference for him, keeping the Serpent Warriors off his back. He was the heavyweight bomber, she the smaller, nippier fighter craft giving him clear passage to his targets.

Softening up, Stuart thought. A first phase of attack to weaken defences and sow disarray. A teaser for the main event.

Vaughn tackled the harbour road vertically. Rather than follow its back-and-forth course she vaulted the guardrails and slid down the embankments between one incline and the next. All the way she kept calling to the scow, begging it to wait. Just half a minute! Civilians wanting safe passage off the island!

Perhaps none of the crew heard her above the noise of the scow’s engine and the booming detonations rolling across the city. Perhaps some of them did, but refused to listen, too concerned for their own lives. Perhaps the sight of a female acolyte was just too bizarre to make sense of. Whatever the reason, the boat didn’t stop. It chugged out onto the lake at flank speed and was a hundred metres from its berth at the quay by the time Vaughn got there. She jumped up and down on the spot and implored the crew to turn back, to no avail. Stuart saw one of the men on deck give her what seemed like a shrug of apology. The others pretended not to notice her.

A volley of foul language echoed across the water from Vaughn, and then she slumped to the quay with a grunt of frustration.

Stuart put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

She rounded on him. “Don’t worry? Don’t worry!? We’re trapped on this fucking island, there’s a major-league conflict starting up around us, and we just lost our only way off.”

“Who says? What about the Serpent aerodiscs?”

“Do you know how you fly one?

“Well, no, but maybe we can find someone who does and coerce them into being our pilot.”

“Sounds pretty thin to me.”

“Me too,” Stuart admitted. “It’s not our only option.”

“Go on. I’m all ears.”

He looked up. A squadron of armoured Serpents were flying above in echelon formation, on course to intercept yet another raid by Huitzilopochtli. Itzpapalotl came at them like a bowling ball hitting the pins, scattering them in all directions.

“If we could get our hands on a couple of those suits…”

“You’re not serious.”

“Oh, but I am. We wouldn’t need anyone else to fly us out of here. We could do it ourselves.”