Despite the healing power flowing through Kira’s veins, she could barely walk. All of the muscles in her legs had gone soft and weak while she’d been asleep. Vera had to hook a strong arm around her waist and practically carry her out of the dome.
“What happened to him?” Kira asked, looking at the puddle of gore that the acolyte had become.
“Don’t worry about it,” Vera said.
They descended three levels without being seen. From there, Vera guided them to a little storeroom that was located a level above the bridge leading to the Queen’s Tower. The room had no windows, but Vera pulled a shelf aside to reveal a little wooden hatch. She yanked on the rope handle to open the hatch, which looked out on the top of the bridge.
“Why is this here?” Kira asked.
“Servants use it to go out on the bridge and clean off the bird shit.”
“Really?”
Vera nodded. “I never liked it. Too much of a security risk. But it’s coming in handy now.”
Vera scanned the bridge. There was a clear path to the center, where Decimar would pick them up. Satisfied, she leaned back on her haunches and checked the time on her bracer.
“We have a few minutes,” said Vera.
Kira nodded. “I’m starting to feel better. Stronger.”
“That’s good.”
Vera hesitated. Went quiet. She had so much that she wanted to say to Kira, but no idea where to begin.
“How did you heal me without Osyrus Ward?” Kira asked.
Vera told her about the last few weeks. The food they’d taken to Burz-al-dun. Pargos. Caellan. The raven cloak she’d used to fly into the tower.
“You’ve had quite the adventure,” Kira said.
“Not what I’d call it, exactly.” Vera paused. “I’ll be glad when it’s over.”
“I’m not so sure,” said Kira, smiling. “Decimar is right about you.”
“Right about me. How?”
“You pretend to have ice water in your veins. Always scowling. Always gauging risks for others. And then you jump from skyships wearing an untested cloak made by a witch.”
“Alchemist.”
“Whatever. You love the thrill.”
Vera shrugged. “All the same. When this is done I am going to soak in a bath for a month. Replace thrills with cold rice wine and warm water.”
Kira smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
Vera checked her watch. “It’s almost time. Let’s get out there.”
Vera helped her across the bridge, but Kira was telling the truth; her movements were already feeling much steadier and stronger. They reached the center of the bridge.
“Hold onto me here,” she said, moving one of Kira’s hands to a thick strap at the base of her left hip. “And here.” She moved her other hand to the middle of her back. “Tightly.”
“I will.”
Vera looked past Kira’s swirling hair, into the sky. Squinted. There was movement in the distance, barely perceptible unless you were looking for it. Then a quick, double flash of a blue torch. The Sparrow. That signaled them as one league out.
“Twenty seconds,” said Vera. Opening and closing her right fist to get it ready. “Don’t be scared.”
Kira squeezed herself closer. Looked up at her.
“I’m not scared, Vera.”
Without thinking, Vera kissed her. Allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the feeling of Kira’s lips and the taste of her mouth while the bracer pulsed out ten perfect seconds and her heart went wild in her chest.
They broke apart.
“Vera,” she whispered. “That was…”
Kira’s next words were lost to the wind as Vera caught the rope from the Sparrow, and they were both snatched into the sky.
75
JOLAN
Southern Side of the Gorgon Bridge
“It’s bigger than I pictured,” said Jolan, looking down on the Gorgon Bridge. They’d left the wagon with the comatose acolyte hidden in a grove a few hundred paces back, and crawled up to a ridge on their bellies so they were hidden from view.
Most bridges in the Dainwood were made from wood. The few stone bridges that existed in the jungle were narrow and ancient. Overrun with moss and lichen so they seemed a part of unconquered wilderness, too. The Gorgon Bridge was the opposite of that. A massive intruder on the landscape that was wide enough for eight carriages to ride side by side.
“Elden began construction as soon as he took control of the Dainwood,” said Ashlyn. “He knew he’d never get rich off the lumber if he relied on river barges.”
Jolan swallowed. Remembered seeing Elden’s corpse hanging over the street of Deepdale with piss dripping off his boot. He pushed the memory away. This was no time to get lost in the past.
He shifted his gaze to the skyship that was hovering over the halfway point of the bridge.
Unlike the heavily armored combat ships that flew over the Dainwood or the agile cutters that patrolled the Gorgon, this was a cargo ship with a bloated hull. It was anchored about two hundred strides off the ground.
“How close do you want to get?” Jolan asked her.
“Directly underneath,” said Ashlyn. “Which means we need to get through there.”
Ashlyn pointed to the large, covered gatehouse on the near side of the bridge. A wagon was approaching the checkpoint. The guards outside took seals from the driver, checked the descriptions, ran them through the checker machine, then waved them inside for inspection.
“You’re sure you can manipulate the machine?” Jolan asked.
“No,” said Ashlyn. “But if I can’t, we were never going to get the rest of this done.”
Jolan nodded. “I’ll get the donkeys ready.”
* * *
They waited until the road was clear before making their approach. The donkeys got skittish as they reached the shadow of the gatehouse, slowing their pace and braying unhappily.
“It’s all right,” Jolan whispered. “Everything’ll be fine.”
“You don’t seem scared,” Ashlyn said.
“This isn’t the first time that I’ve approached a fortified Balarian checkpoint with bad intentions on my mind. I was piss-scared last time, but I didn’t have a sorceress with me.”
Ashlyn scoffed. Shook her head.
There were nine sentries guarding the exterior of the checkpoint. One man in front of the gate, who was motioning Jolan forward, and four men on either side holding crossbows.
“That’ll do,” said the man in front when Jolan had rolled the back wheels over a slight bump.
As soon as Jolan got the donkeys stopped, two men in the rear bent down and lifted a metal grate from the ground, blocking their exit.
“What’s the matter, your oxen get sick or something?” asked the man in front.
“No,” said Ashlyn. “They were killed by one of your skyships.”
The man shrugged. “Hand over your seals.”
With her right hand only, Ashlyn produced two discs from a pocket inside her poncho and tossed them to the sentry. He gave them a quick read, then looked back at them. “What happened to the descriptions?”
“Siphoning rubber for you clock fuckers is rough work,” Ashlyn said in a thick Almiran accent. “Things break.”
In truth, Jolan had filed them off during their journey to the bridge.
“Maybe they do. Or maybe you’re a bunch of fools who are about to get porcupined when the codes don’t match. Don’t matter to me none.”
The sentry moved over to his machine and deposited the seals.
Ashlyn’s poncho covered her left arm, and the hum emanating from her rotating bands was so quiet that it could have been a cat’s purr. Both of their seals were accepted with a satisfying click that clearly disappointed the sentry. He handed them back as the checkpoint gate was opening.
“Inside for inspection.” He smiled. “Say hello to Acolyte Two-Oh-Two for me.”
The mention of an acolyte caused a pit of fear to form in Jola
n’s stomach. They’d anticipated one being stationed in the gatehouse, but knowing it was there for certain was different.
Jolan roused the donkeys and moved them forward.
The soldiers closed the gate behind them as soon as they were through, trapping them inside the windowless gatehouse, which was illuminated by dragon-oil lanterns that ringed the walls.
Acolyte 202 was a stride taller than Bershad. Veins the color of rubies bulged along his neck and massive arms. Dragon bones shaped like ram horns protruded from the sides of his head. His eyes were cold and dead.
In addition to the acolyte, there were two men on the ground level. Ten more stood in the gallery above, each armed with a repeating crossbow.
“Stay where you are,” said one of the men on the ground in a bored tone. He had his crossbow cradled lazy in one arm. “If you move, Two-Oh-Two will cut you in half.”
Acolyte 202 corroborated this threat by extending a long, dragon-bone claw from the middle of each meaty fist. A smear of blackened blood glistened along the side of each claw.
The other guard trotted around to the back of their wagon and undid the latch. Dropped the tailgate.
“The fuck is all this?” he muttered in Balarian.
“What’re they hauling?” called the man in front.
“Dunno. But it sure as shit ain’t rubber. Bunch of machinery.” He took a closer look inside. “By Aeternita. There’s a fucking acolyte back here.”
The sentry’s eyes widened. His mouth opened to shout an order.
Whatever he said, it was drowned out by the roar of Ashlyn’s bands screaming to life beneath her poncho. Two lodestones darted from her satchel like startled sparrows and blasted through Acolyte 202’s eyes and out the back of his skull.
As the acolyte fell to the ground, the two lodestones zipped to either side of the sentry’s head. They hung there for a moment—shaking like angry bees—before smashing through either ear and meeting in the middle of his brain with a wet click.
“It’s the witch queen!” someone shouted from above.
“Porcupine her!”
More lodestones streamed from Ashlyn’s satchel.
Jolan closed his eyes. He didn’t want to get blood in them.
He heard the metal zip and pop of lodestones careening through the air, followed by the wet thumps of human flesh being pierced and battered and broken.
When he opened his eyes again, everyone was dead. There was blood dripping from the upper gallery and one of the donkeys had crapped all over the floor.
Ashlyn hopped off the cart and moved to the gate mechanism behind them. She put her hand on the gearbox and jerked her bands in a quick rotation, which shattered the contents of the box.
“Unhitch the donkeys and let them cross the bridge,” she said. “Their part is done.”
* * *
Ashlyn destroyed the second gate’s gearbox once they were through it.
“That won’t hold them forever,” Jolan warned.
“We don’t need it to,” Ashlyn said.
The far side of the bridge was empty except for a single rubber farmer’s wagon in the distance that soon disappeared into the morning fog.
Ashlyn pulled their wagon across the bridge using two lodestones on the tongue as an anchor. Other than two bands rotating near her elbow, pulling the cart didn’t seem to require much of her energy.
Jolan eyed the skyship. They were about a hundred paces away.
“Think anyone up there will notice there aren’t any animals pulling our wagon?” he asked.
“Not likely,” said Ashlyn. “And when we stop, it’ll make more sense.”
They closed the remaining distance at a slow, methodical pace. As they entered the shadow of the skyship, Jolan felt a shiver run up his spine.
When they were directly beneath the skyship, Ashlyn moved to one of the wagon wheels and activated her finger bands. The iron bolts of the wheel shot off into the water, and the wheel fell off the wagon, causing it to crash in a heap.
“I get it,” Jolan said. “They’ll think our donkeys ran off.”
“That’s the hope,” said Ashlyn. “Let’s get started.”
They both got into the wagon. Jolan connected the astrolabe to Ashlyn’s arm.
“Just give me a moment to weave down to its brain,” she said, her fingerbands already whirring.
While Ashlyn’s bands shifted and spun, Jolan peeked out of their wagon and looked down the bridge. He didn’t see anyone, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last. Then he dug around in his satchel until he found the jar of smelling salts.
Ashlyn’s bands stopped. “I’m ready. Wake it up.”
He shook the vial of smelling salts, then uncorked it and held it under the acolyte’s nose. The muscles beneath its gray skin twitched and roiled and then its eyes snapped open. Ashlyn clamped down on it immediately, freezing its body.
A moment later, its pupils dilated.
“Awaiting command,” it said.
Ashlyn took a deep breath. “It was your idea. You want the honors?”
Jolan nodded. Licked his lips. “Remote connection.”
“Accepted.”
What followed were the longest five seconds of Jolan’s life.
“Success,” it droned. “Now connected to the Steady Cog cutter model skyship.”
Relief flooded Jolan’s body. He’d been right. Thank the gods, he’d been right.
“Protocol dictates a status transmission,” the acolyte said. “Transmit now?”
“No!” Ashlyn and Jolan both said at the same time.
“Accepted. Awaiting command.”
Jolan moved closer to Ashlyn. “Are you getting anything useful?” he whispered.
“There’s an open loop that leads into the skyship above us. From there, it expands outward in dozens of different directions.” She frowned in concentration. “There aren’t any coordinates or spirals to slow me down, though. Just smooth pathways.”
“That means it won’t take nearly as much energy to travel through them, right?”
“Exactly.” Ashlyn took a breath. “I’m going to push through them all at the same time. After this, there’s no going back. Ready?”
Jolan stuffed a wad of cloth in each ear. “Ready.”
Ashlyn’s bands started to spin faster. Then faster still. Eventually it sounded like they were sharing the cart with a forest demon who was getting his teeth pulled out.
Just when Jolan thought his eardrums were about to explode, the sound stopped. Ashlyn’s bands froze again.
She was smiling.
“What is it? What did you get?”
The astrolabe lit up with pinpricks of golden light—the same matrix that Jolan had seen back in Dampmire.
“Are those what I think they are?” he asked.
“Every skyship in the armada,” Ashlyn confirmed. “This is Osyrus Ward’s back door.”
“Can you control them?”
She frowned. Probed with her bands a little. “All I can do to the ones that are far away is pull them toward our location, but I have a lot more access to the skyship above us. I can feel the doors. Locks. Flight controls. Everything. Ward left it all completely unsecured so he could pilot the ships remotely.” She paused. “Hold on, I’m going to try something.”
Her armbands started whirring again.
Overhead, Jolan heard the sounds of metallic crunching and snapping and breaking as doors and hatches slammed shut all over the skyship deck. Jolan peeked out of the cart and looked up. Men were banging on exterior doors. Shouting at each other in confusion.
“Good,” Ashlyn said. “They can’t interfere, but I can still use them to reach the other skyships. We need to start pulling them toward us, but now that I’m connected to all of them, I can’t parse out exact locations—there’s too much information.”
Jolan scanned the skyship locations on the astrolabe. Some were in fixed positions over the different cities of Terra, but a lot of them were patrolling the co
astlines and riverways of Almira.
“I’ll read the locations out to you. Where do we start?” he asked.
“We need to let Willem know that it worked. Find a skyship that’s out west, over the Gorgon.”
Jolan nodded. Studied the astrolabe for a moment. “Okay, I have one. It’s on grid forty-three. Negative four west. Positive fifteen east.”
Ashlyn’s bands shifted in a slow, probing rhythm for a few moments, then froze.
“Got it.”
Her bands increased speed, sustained and loud.
The glowing pin that represented the skyship started to move east.
“That’s it,” Jolan whispered, barely believing what he saw. “You’ve … you’ve got it.”
“It feels like dragging a wolf around with a leash made of silk thread,” Ashlyn said. “Let me know if I move off course.”
Jolan watched the dot. “You’re drifting a little too far south.”
One of Ashlyn’s bands froze while another reversed direction. “Better?”
“Better.”
They carried on like that for a few minutes, with Jolan giving occasional course corrections to keep the ship moving down the Gorgon, and Ashlyn adjusting as needed. Jolan became so absorbed in the work that he didn’t notice the roar of the skyship’s engine until it was pounding in his ears.
Jolan inched toward the back of the wagon and lifted the flap. His jaw dropped.
The cutter was facing away from them. It was lilting far to the aft side and its engines were fully lit, but it was being dragged backward by Ashlyn.
“Almost there,” Ashlyn whispered. “Just a little further, and I can overload the engine.”
Jolan watched the ship. There were men scrambling into position along the gunwale. They had bows drawn, and were nearly in range.
“Ashlyn, whatever you’re going to do, you need to do it—”
The skyship exploded in a flash of white light. Jolan closed his eyes on instinct. When he opened them again, the skyship was gone and the bridge was peppered with shards of metal and bone. There were charred bodies everywhere.
“Gods,” Jolan said, transfixed by the destruction. “There must have been a hundred men on that ship. We … killed them all.”
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