Part 2

Matthew climbed up out of the ruined flight controls and shouted, “We’ve got ten seconds! Grab something!” Becky threw herself at the nearest console, and linked her arms through some of the dislodged cables, in an attempt to hold herself down. She counted the seconds in her head. Suddenly, without warning, the deafening propellers she was so used to stopped. Before she had time to realise, everything went blurry, and Becky felt herself being crushed into the mess of wires and plating which she was holding onto and with a bang, a huge, head-splitting bang, the ship had impaled itself into the Discord. She was thrown across the deck into another console, she heard the crack of a rib. The Stijl groaned, and Becky knew it would never fly again. With a jolt, everything fell a foot downwards. Matthew surfaced from a pile of circuitry and rubble and limped towards Becky, roughly lifting her to her feet by her arm, muttering, “We’ve gotta get out, gotta get out…” Something creaked and the lower deck fell away beneath them. Becky and Matthew leapt through the opening in the wall just in time, Matthew roaring in pain as his ankle twisted and snapped beneath him. Once through the opening created by the Stijl-which Becky realised with a jolt was no longer her ship, it was but a wreck-, Becky helped lay Matthew down on the metallic flooring of the inside of the sky fortress Discord, which had eluded her for so long. She turned to face the remains of her beloved ship, to see the Irwin or Mikheil or Yuan Sandstorm (she didn’t much care; it was near the end) tear through the Stijl, shredding what remained of it into white-hot shards which swirled up and joined the Sandstorm itself, making it ever more powerful a shield. She turned back to the room they were in, which seemed to be a sort of antechamber; steps leading down at one end and a large ornate door at the other.

Matthew groaned in agony and cried, “They’re coming! Help me up.” Becky quickly propped Matthew up, ignoring the pain in her side, and the blood spilling from Matthew’s leg. They heard heavy boots on the metal walkway. “I hear three men, one wounded.” whispered Matthew.

“Can we take them?” Matthew nodded in reply. In a blur, two of the men were dead, their light uniforms painted red. Matthew yelled something at Becky, who narrowly avoided a soldier’s fist, and responded with one of her own.

“We must hurry!” She helped Matthew once again to his feet, his arm around her shoulders, and they stumbled towards the great door, which reacted to their presence by humming faintly. It slid open, and they stepped inside. It was a small circular space, suitable for three people at most. “It’s a lift…” Matthew murmured. At once the door opened, and they stepped out onto what could only be described as a greenhouse. The ceiling was glass, with all manner of trees and plants running either side of a steel walkway. There was a door at the opposite end, but there was something in the way… Becky’s eyes adjusted to the light and made out a figure.

“McKenzie.” The woman-who appeared to be bathed in darkness, even in the brightness of the greenhouse-laughed.

“I’ve been waiting.” At Becky’s side, Matthew started spluttering and gasping, he coughed up blood, and collapsed at her feet. A pool of blood slowly formed around his head. Becky ignored this, and stepped over his body, towards the woman. She had taken no more than five steps and found that she could move no further. The darkness that surrounded McKenzie was forming a barrier between them both. It moved like a liquid, until all Becky could see was black. She could hear her enemy cackling with glee, which so reminded Becky of all those bedtime stories of witches and wizards, and how much she’d love to sleep…

A crash erupted from above, and the darkness was gone. A single figure fell down through the glass, which shattered. All the plants died instantly, withered and decayed in a second. The figure seemed to be engaged in some sort of dance with McKenzie, weaving left and right, dodging the scythe which McKenzie had conjured, and ultimately-Becky barely saw it, it was so quick-pulling a simple flick-knife from his shirt pocket, and thrusting it into McKenzie’s chest. With a fizzling and crackling, the Sandstorm broke free of its bounds, and seeped into the room, throwing white-hot particles of glass, stone and metal into the room, enveloping the two rivals. Becky threw herself to the ground, closed her eyes, clamped her hands over her ears and made herself into as small a ball as possible, while everything was decimated overhead. When she got up, the Sandstorm had been reabsorbed by its bounds, and swirled with a calm splendour feet from her head. Except for the walls, nothing remained of the room but the door at the far end, unscathed.

It stood slightly ajar.