Novel 3. The Last Autumn

— It was a pleasure. — The girl stood up and with a smile extended her hand to de Gorazzo. The Don did not hesitate, and shook the narrow palm without delay. He noted to himself that the smile of the guest from the other world was lovely, her skin was soft, and her teeth were white.

— This is Anya, our base's communications operator, — Alex introduced the girl. — Also my... friend. I hope you two will get along. Anya is interested in local languages and culture. She's... always sympathised with the locals more than me.

"Aha," thought de Gorazzo, smiling back at the girl. The meaning of the last phrase was quite transparent. When, having said goodbye to Anya, the men returned to the corridor, de Gorazzo was quietly curious:

— Isn't that where I saw the real motive behind your actions? Huh, Alex? But you didn't seem eager to get back to your old ways, did you?

— That's right, I was thinking of myself first. — The stranger shrugged. — I'm a selfish bastard. But I've already made up my mind here — if there's a chance of getting a good man out....

— We'll try, — de Gorazzo promised him. — Not to the detriment of the main task, of course.

— I asked her to wait for me in the radio room if an evacuation was announced. — Alex tugged the rifle strap on his shoulder. — I didn't say anything else, don't worry.

The familiar alarm bell howled a frantic cat as the infiltrators helped drag crates of weapons from the armoury to the middle tier.

— Tagawa must be in a bad way, — Armando said. The alarm could mean the beginning of the Republic's landing on the island. The garrison had probably already lost the naval battle.

The few aliens who had been carrying equipment with the saboteurs picked up a few crates and rushed headlong into the tunnel leading to the helipad. Armando was faced with a choice — either to follow their example, getting a convenient excuse to leave a magic mark on the pad, or....

— Down! — de Gorazzo decided. He did not know what orders Fulcanelli had given about the prisoners, and he did not wish to check his guess. Together with Alex they raced down the stairs into the empty armoury, ran through the storage section, and found themselves in front of the holding cell. Just in time to see two guards unlocking the iron door of the cell. One of them was clutching an alien hand bomb in the palm of his hand. The guard opened the sash and tried to throw the bomb inside, but the door was suddenly struck with force from inside. The door swung open more forcefully, and someone's hands grabbed the guard by the neck and pulled him inside the cell. The door slammed shut, and there was an explosion inside.

— Demons and Gahanna! — Forgetting his own vow not to mention evil, Armando drew his shotgun and pulled the trigger. The recoil struck the don in the shoulder, but the other guard fell backwards, only to flail his arms absurdly. De Gorazzo ran past him, jerked the doorknob towards him....

The first guard was lying nose down on the floor, a pool of blood spreading rapidly beneath him. Dallan, unharmed, was helping Valria out from under the iron bed built into the wall. Unlike the sergeant, the elf seemed slightly stunned. However, when she saw Armando, she smiled broadly:

— Almost in time, Don! A minute sooner and you could have actually saved us.

— Did they uncuff you? — The former bailiff asked grumpily, stepping over the corpse of the guard. The stranger fell on his own bomb, and it exploded under his chest. It was definitely unnecessary to check his breathing or look for a live one.

— No, of course not. — The captain spoke louder than she should have and blinked a lot, but at least she didn't stagger. — We're on our own. Did I practise their locks and lock picking for nothing before we sailed?

— I didn't see you take a lock pick with you, — Alex grinned as he appeared on the doorstep. — I see you were left with shoes and belts, but you should have been searched anyway. Where did you hide it?

— In a secluded place accessible only to resourceful women. — The elven woman wagged her finger at the defector.

— In her hair, — explained Sergeant Dallan. — She hid a piece of wire in her hair.

— In a luxuriously lush mane of a wonderful golden colour, — Valria corrected her companion. — Now, enough of this stalling. What about Fulcanelli?

— He's packing his bags right now, getting ready to leave. — Alex took the gun off the dead guard's belt and handed it to Valria. She grimaced. Sergeant Dallan took the weapon instead and slipped it behind her belt. — As far as I know, he'll be the last to leave the base.

They took an extra minute to look at the storage shelves. In addition to provisions, it held equipment for task force sorties, including clothing, armour, swords and daggers, which the outsiders considered to be more of a disguise. The girls armed themselves with good swords, and the reunited group hurried to the stairs. Already in the corridor of the middle tier Alex stopped and said:

— Armando knows where Fulcanelli's office is. I need to go out. Not for long. There's something very important, personal.

Velria glanced questioningly at Don de Gorazzo. He nodded, and the elf gave the defector a radiant smile:

— I promised a little trust, didn't I? Go on.

The three mercenaries ran to the door of the office. Armando kicked the door open and shot the soldier in front of him. The stranger fell on his back with a hole in the centre of his chest. Behind him was a second soldier who had already raised his short rifle. Armando violently pulled the lever under the barrel of the shotgun. He didn't have time to fire first, but Valria intervened. The elven woman slipped out from behind Don's back and the alien cried out in pain, clutching his left eye. His gun fired, but the bullets went upwards, ricocheting off the stone walls with a screech. Sergeant Dallan swept between Armando and Valria like a cannonball. The green-eyed girl slammed her shoulder into the soldier's chest, punched him in the jaw with her fist, knocked him to the ground, and pinned him to the floor with her sword. Apart from the two guards in the office was only the head of the expedition himself. When Armando kicked open the door, Messire Fulcanelli was tapping on the square keys embedded in the surface of his desk. The attack had taken the alien by surprise, but he was not confused. While the mercenaries fiddled with the guards, Fulcanelli drew a pistol from his desk drawer, jumped up from his chair... but did not have time to use the weapon.

— Boom! — The shotgun in Armando's hands boomed. The lead blast shattered the skull of the alien leader into bloody shards.

— Well..., — Valria said disappointedly, watching Fulcanelli's body fall to the floor. — I was expecting a half-hour battle, with lightning and explosions...

— What did you throw at the guard, Captain? — Ignoring her remark, Armando stepped to the table and touched the black rectangular object lying on it. The expedition leader's laptop. Exactly as Alex had described it. A repository of codes for atomic bombs. A box with the end of the world inside.

— Musket bullets, — the pointy-eared girl said with a smile. — I picked up a handful at the warehouse. Along with a bag of breadcrumbs.

Armando grabbed some papers off the table, crumpled them up, and stuffed them in his jacket pockets, in case they were important. Lady Maria would read them later. He pointed the barrel of the gun at the laptop.

— Wait a minute, — Valria stopped him. — He's not dangerous now, but not everyone knows that. Let's take it with us. Maybe it will be useful in the future. Not for us, but for the imperial diplomats to negotiate with Auguste. We can always smash it.

The former royal bailiff sighed, nodding at the 'suitcase':

— Sergeant, you take it. My hands are full. Take good care of it.

Hurried footsteps were heard outside. Armando took aim at the doorway, but the alarm was false. Alex entered the office. Not alone. The defector led by the hand a black-haired girl, a communications operator. She looked around in confusion, and at the sight of the corpses she shrieked and backed away, clasping her mouth with her palm. Alex said a few words to her in his native language and turned to the mercenaries:

— It's a friend. She's coming with us. I'll explain it to her myself. Armando knows.

— Really? — The elfess glanced at the don.

— Mm-hmm. — De Gorazzo jerked his shoulder. — She was in charge of communications here. She must know a lot. And she didn't kill anyone, I think.

— Then we'll take her, of course, — agreed Valria. — Alex, where are the other big shots?

The defector left his friend at the door, walked round the desk, looked at the keys embedded in it and the glass window beside them. He shook his head:

— Fulcanelli was about to activate the base's self-destruct. Anya says there's a battle in the harbour, Fort Tagawa's on fire. No one's come back to the warehouse for a new batch of gear. I'm betting everyone's at the helipad or running for it.

— They won't leave without their leader. — Valria's ears twitched excitedly. — Come on!

— Take the gun, — the sergeant told her dryly.

— I don't like shooting things that are more complicated than my digestive system, — the captain snorted. Dallan picked up the short rifle of the guard she'd killed and handed it to the defector:

— Alex, make it fire one bullet at a time and give it to Valria. If you don't take it, you'll be combing your own hair for a month.

— Oh, for fuck's sake! — The elfess tightened her lips, but accepted the weapon.

As the saboteurs ran through the tunnels of the old mine, they didn't meet a soul. Even the post at the grate locking the exit from the base was abandoned. All the remnants of the expedition from the other world were actually gathered around two pot-bellied helicopters. Some were loading crates into the flying machine, others were peering into the distance, standing at the edge of the pad. Armando tore the amulet tag from its buckle and threw it forward. The enchanted roundel struck a rock and rolled along the ground towards the cars. De Gorazzo pressed his shoulder against a rock ledge and fired his shotgun, aiming for the windows of the nearest helicopter. He was supported by his comrades, though Alex seemed to be aiming not at the people, but over their heads. The aliens did not expect an attack from the base, and the mercenaries managed to cut down three or four of them before the rest scattered to cover. The surviving operatives returned fire, bullets clattering against stone. The spies had to hide behind a tunnel opening, but they had succeeded in disrupting the loading. Both sides engaged in a firefight, keeping each other's heads down. It lasted for a minute, then the wide blade above the roof of one of the helicopters began to rotate, emitting a growing rumble. A few seconds and it turned into a shimmering disc. Under the cover of the operatives, three unarmed strangers began to crawl towards the humming machine.

— These are the three we need! — The elven woman shouted to Armando, while Alex was reloading the trophy gun for her. — We can't let them go!

But the strangers' soldiers were not sparing their ammo — Armando could barely get out, and Valria and Alex were caught in a shower of lead. The guards must have correctly assessed their danger. From his nook, Don de Gorazzo watched the helicopter lift off the ground, hovering in the air, almost touching the pad with its wheels. As the operatives led the unarmed trio, covering them with their backs. As the thin cloud veil that covered the entire sky was pierced by the carcass of a falling dragon.

— Creator almighty! — Armando exhaled.

The dragon was not an island dragon — huge and brown like a bear. It tumbled, tumbling through the air, its body clothed like brightly coloured patches by small Erdos dragons, tearing fiercely with teeth and claws at the skin and wings of its giant counterpart. The tangle of dragons rushed past the helipad and disappeared from sight, probably crashing into the rocks down the slope. Behind the first lizard, two more emerged from the clouds, a grey one and a red one. These dived by themselves, their mighty paws outstretched. In a moment, they collapsed onto the platform. The grey dragon pushed the soaring helicopter with its lower legs to the side, avoiding the impact of the propeller. The machine tumbled off the pad, tipping over the other side. The red lizard simply landed on the second flying machine, flattening it with its armoured belly. With a swish of its tail, it knocked a couple of alien soldiers into the ground. Ten leather-clad warriors poured from the backs of the lizards, firing crossbows at the last surviving operatives, who were stunned and blinded by the dust. The unknown men deftly twisted the trio of unarmed strangers and dragged them towards the red dragon.

— No! — Valria sprang from behind the stone jamb and fired several shots, standing to her full height. One stranger collapsed in the hands of his captors. Before she could do more, a grey dragon swooped in and literally blocked the tunnel exit with its side. The captain lowered her useless gun and launched into a tirade in Elvish, of which de Gorazzo understood three words. The captain rarely stooped to foul language, but this was undoubtedly an appropriate occasion.

As if frightened by the elven curses, the grey dragon backed away, turning around. He pushed off the ground and soared upwards. Its red counterpart was already gone. Together with the dragons, their riders and the captured strangers disappeared . Only the corroded wreckage of the helicopter and the corpses of the aliens remained on the defeated site. The spies cautiously exited the tunnel, though it was obvious that the dragons had no intention of returning. A cold wind was blowing. From the sea came the sound of cannon volleys, the echo of distant shouts and the clang of steel. Smoke was rising from below — from where the helicopter had crashed. But here... here it was all over.

— We've been outplayed, — Captain Valria said in a shrieking voice.

— Fulcanelli is dead, we have the laptop with the codes. — Armando nodded at Dallan. The warrior who hadn't been in the firefight was leading the pale girl operator under her elbow. The black rectangle of a laptop dangled from a belt behind her back. — You shot the guy who knew the individual codes, didn't you? Nikola?

— No. — The elf dropped the gun she'd taken from the trophy and smoothed her windswept hair. — Not him.

— Either way, we've accomplished our main goal. — Armando slung his shotgun more carefully over his shoulder. It was a simple weapon that had helped him a lot today. — And the alien expedition no longer existed as an organised force.