When she reached the southern edge of the rise and deemed it safe, Charlotte hurried to collect the others. The long, shrill call of the train whistle was much closer now, and night’s shadows retreated from the rose-gold tinge of dawn’s approach. Very little time remained before daylight would scuttle their plans.
The train was pulling into Albany’s rail yard by the time they’d gathered at the point from which they’d need to descend. The sight of the roaring machine made Charlotte’s jaw clench. An iron lion composed the body of the steam engine. The beast’s jaws were agape and its mane flared back. At the rear of the engine the lion’s tail curved up, more like to a scorpion than a feline. The cars trailing the engine had no ornamentation whatsoever, and their dull iron shade served to make the lion appear all the more ferocious, as though the beast could come to life at any moment and leap onto the tracks ahead.
The train slowed, coming to a stop alongside the sidetracked cars that occupied the yard. Charlotte’s heart thudded in disappointment when the final boxcars passed beyond the forest line near the river. She’d been hoping to use the dense tree cover as much as possible when boarding the train, but the train’s length meant they’d have to traverse at least some of the yard, forcing their group to be much more exposed than Charlotte wanted.
“We’re less likely to be noticed if we break into small groups,” Charlotte told Birch and Scoff. Pip and Grave hung back, keeping watch over the children. “Each of us can take four children at a time. Pip should go along with you, Birch.”
“What about Grave?” Scoff asked, his brow creasing just a bit. “Where will he be?”
“I’d like Grave to come with me and the first group of children,” Charlotte said. “He can carry the two smallest, so we can move more quickly.”
And if there’s trouble in the yard, Grave has the best chance of fighting it off. Charlotte kept that thought to herself.
“All right,” Scoff said. “I’ll get Pip and we’ll separate the children into groups.”
When Scoff stepped away, Charlotte looked at Birch. “Be watchful of what happens when Grave and I reach the boxcars. If we’re attacked, don’t try to save us; just get the other children out of here.”
“Are you sure?” Birch frowned.
Charlotte didn’t like what she had to say, but knew it was true. “If we’re discovered, the plan has failed. Even if you can help us get away, the Empire will know we were here and it will only be a matter of time before they catch up to us. Better to let a few us of be taken than all of us.”
Birch sighed, but gave her a nod before he went to join Pip and Scoff. He passed Grave—and the three children trailing their sometime guardian—who was on his way to join Charlotte.
“These two should be carried.” Grave gestured to a chub-cheeked girl who clung to Grave’s pant leg with one hand while she sucked the thumb of the other. The second was a boy, who, while older than the girl, had a sallow complexion and spindly limbs that gave him the appearance of frailty. The third child to join them was Rufus, who hooked his thumbs through his suspenders and looked up at Charlotte.
“I’m going to help Grave watch over the littlest ones,” Rufus said. He brandished a thick branch.
“And I thank you for that,” Charlotte answered, as she kept a smile from twitching its way onto her lips. She wondered if she should tell him to leave the makeshift stick sword behind, but could see no real harm in his having it.
A slightly shorter boy with a mad nest of ginger curls stood just behind Rufus, watching the older boy with adoring eyes.
“Jamie, yes?” Charlotte asked. “You’re coming with us as well?”
“He’s with me,” Rufus answered for him. “He’s all right.”
“Very good, then.” Charlotte smiled at Jamie, who returned her cheer with a gap-toothed grin. She was happy to see that despite his admiration for Rufus, Jamie hadn’t found it necessary to find his own battle stick.
Turning her attention to Grave, she said, “I’ll lead the way. When I stop, you stop. If I tell you to run, run.”
Grave nodded and scooped up the small children, holding one in the crook of each of his arms. The thumb-sucking girl tucked her head against Grave’s shoulder, ready to fall asleep. The sickly boy hung on to Grave’s arm and shivered with fear, illness, or both.
“Rufus, Jamie, stay close to me,” Charlotte told him.
Rufus nodded, gripping his makeshift weapon with both hands. “All right, Jamie?”
“All right,” Jamie answered.
The path Charlotte chose took them through the brush-covered slope, offering some cover, if not as much as the forest. She angled toward the last cars on the train, but made certain to remain in the line of sight of her companions still up on the ridge. More and more light spilled over the trees. A jolt of nerves quickened Charlotte’s pulse, but she knew she could not rush their progress. In her peripheral vision, she caught Rufus stalking beside her, mimicking her every movement.
They’d reached the decommissioned boxcars and Charlotte still saw no evidence of surveillance or guards in the rail yard. Albany wasn’t a military hub, so perhaps the Empire considered it a low-risk site, a place that would never be under threat of attack. If that was the case, all the better for her purpose. At the last set of tracks before the supply train, Charlotte stopped. She peeked around the back of one of the sidetracked cars, searching for guards, maintenance workers, anyone who might spot them.
She saw no one.
In the distance she could just make out the silhouette of the lion’s head at the front of the train.
“Quickly,” Charlotte whispered.
Staying low, they hurried across the gap between the boxcars. When they were tucked alongside the train, Charlotte again waited for any sign they’d been detected.
All was quiet.
“Grave, put the children down and open this door, as slowly and making as little sound as you can manage.”
Charlotte gently shushed the little girl, who had mewled her protest at being woken. The boy was still trembling, but he made no sound.
The metal door groaned as Grave slid it open. When Charlotte was certain he’d created enough space to accommodate their needs, she grabbed his arm.
“That’ll do,” she said. “Let’s get the children on board.”
Grave lifted the small girl and boy into the car. Jamie scrambled up after them.
“Sit against the wall and rest.” Charlotte offered a reassuring smile. “The others will be here soon.”
She was about to tell Rufus to join the other children, but was surprised to find him still standing beside her.
“Go on, Rufus,” Charlotte said.
She glanced up the hillside. Birch and Pip had begun their descent with four more children.
“I think I should stand guard with you.” Rufus’s pronouncement brought her attention back to him.
Sizing up the boy, Charlotte pointed to the edge of the boxcar. “Can you stand guard here? In the doorway? You’ll have a better vantage point.”
Rufus looked at her, then at the door. “Yes. That’s a good idea. I’ll stand there.”
“Thank you.”
• • •
As Rufus took up his post, Charlotte stood beside Grave, her attention split between watching Birch and Pip’s progress and scanning the rail yard for imminent threats. She detected the far-off sounds of Albany coming to life with morning’s arrival, but in the immediate vicinity they appeared to be alone.
The second group reached the bottom of the slope and began to cross the yard. Scoff and his tiny flock emerged from the forest at the top of the hill.
Something flickered at the corner of Charlotte’s vision. She pivoted quickly, pistol drawn and cocked, but found no evidence that anything was amiss. Still, her skin continued to prickle and an anxious surge kept her on guard.
Slowly, Charlotte moved down the line of boxcars. A small sound reached her ears, the gentle rasp of something soft brushing against metal. She listened hard, watching all the while for the slightest movement.
The shriek of the train whistle nearly shattered her skull.
“Spear of Athene.” Charlotte spat out the curse.
“Charlotte!” Birch’s sharp whisper beckoned her. “The train will leave in another minute. We have to get everyone into the car.”
Still rattled, Charlotte swore again as she began to turn back to her friends. Then she became still as stone.
She saw its eyes before anything else. Eyes that shone despite the shadows beneath the boxcar. Golden eyes. Alert. Cunning. Fixed upon her.
Charlotte’s breath became shallow. She was desperate to know if Scoff had reached the train, but she dared not look away from those eyes.
She was being hunted.
Charlotte began to back toward their car.
Well aware that it had been seen, the beast to whom the eyes belonged crept along the ground beneath empty cars on the opposite track, matching Charlotte’s every step. Charlotte had her pistol aimed at the stalker, but had only a poor shot—one that was likely to ricochet off the metal of the car and do her no good at all.
“Charlotte, Scoff’s nearly here.” Birch’s voice was low and urgent. “What are you—by the gods. Stop, Charlotte. Don’t move.”
Something in Birch’s tone filled her blood with cold dread.
“When I say it, you must dive toward me,” Birch said, keeping his words steady. “Don’t hesitate. Jump low and far as you can.”
Fires of the forge, what could he see? Charlotte’s arms began to tremble, robbing her of steady aim.
“Now, Charlotte!”
Charlotte threw her body backward in a blind launch toward Birch’s voice. Just before she crashed into the dirt, she heard something hit the ground nearby. Then a low snarl followed by a hiss.
Birch grabbed Charlotte’s arms, hauling her to her feet. She whirled around.
The catamount was crouched low, its tail lashing the air. The iron collar around its neck marked it as a kept beast of the Empire, a predator intended to keep the rail yard free of pests. Its eyes were still fixed on Charlotte.
But this wasn’t the cat that had been stalking her from beneath the cars. This cat had come from behind Charlotte. From above.
“There’s another one,” Charlotte told Birch.
“I know,” Birch answered. “I saw you tracking it with your pistol.”
“Do you see it now?”
“No.”
Charlotte had her pistol trained on the catamount in sight, but she wanted to avoid firing if she could. The discharge of a gun would carry a long way, and could bring more trouble than catamounts alone.
Without taking her gaze from the cat, Charlotte asked, “Where is Scoff? Close?”
“Coming across the yard now,” Birch answered. “I sent Grave to help.”
A hard lump formed in Charlotte’s throat. Where is the other cat?
The train whistle screamed again and Charlotte didn’t hesitate. Her finger squeezed the trigger and a moment later the catamount dropped to the ground, a bullet buried in its skull. She hoped the whistle had been enough to cover the sound of the shot.
A great shudder traveled down the line of boxcars. They began to lurch forward. The children inside the car cried out, startled by the sudden movement. Pip knelt beside them, her own face drawn with fear.
“Pip, stay with them!” Charlotte called. “Birch, get in there, too.”
Birch hesitated, and she shoved him toward the open door. “Go!”
Charlotte pivoted, her eyes searching for Scoff. Four children were running ahead of him. Grave had almost reached them.
The other catamount darted from beneath the abandoned cars, rushing at the children.
“Grave!” Charlotte bolted toward them. “The catamount! Stop the catamount!”
Without breaking his stride, Grave turned, spotted the cat, and jumped. He hurtled through the air, his body crashing into the cat’s. Cat and boy slammed into the ground a fury of limbs, teeth, and claws.
Charlotte reached the children, whose steps had faltered at the cat’s ambush.
“Don’t stop!” Charlotte urged them on. “Run to the train. Run!”
Scoff grabbed her arm. “What should—”
“Just get them on that car.” Charlotte pulled free and kept running toward Grave.
Grave had landed on the catamount’s back and now his arms wrapped around the snarling, struggling beast. Charlotte stopped and drew her pistol, hoping to get a clear shot.
The catamount slashed at the air with its claws, but Grave held on. He didn’t shout or scream. He made no sound at all. But the cat’s fury had become panic. No longer trying to attack, the catamount desperately struggled to free itself from Grave’s arms. Charlotte didn’t understand what was happening until she heard a terrible series of brittle snaps as the catamount’s ribs crumpled beneath the power of Grave’s constricting embrace. Only when the great cat went limp did Grave release his hold. He looked at Charlotte.
“Are you hurt?” Charlotte called to him.
Grave shook his head.
“We have to hurry.” She waved for him to follow her. “The train is leaving!”
The train rolled slowly forward, but Scoff had to keep pace with the moving car, lifting children up for Birch to pull safely inside. Scoff had just handed off the fourth child when Charlotte heard Pip scream.
Charlotte had no idea where the third catamount had been hiding, but now it charged at Scoff, knocking him to the ground. Scoff threw his arms up, trying to defend himself. Charlotte’s lungs burned as she ran toward him. In a few seconds she’d be close enough to shoot the cat.
A figure jumped from the boxcar and rushed toward the cat. For a moment, Charlotte thought it had to be Birch, but then she realized the person was too small to be the tinker.
“Rufus, no!” Charlotte screamed. She lifted her gun, aiming as she ran.
Rufus gave a wild yell as he brought his tree branch down on the catamount’s flank. Startled, the cat snarled, pausing in its attack. Rufus struck again. The catamount twisted and lashed out, knocking Rufus back with a single, long swipe of its paw. Rufus rolled along the ground and didn’t move again. The cat turned back to Scoff, but Charlotte’s bullets struck its neck and its chest before it could attack again.
“Get Rufus,” Charlotte gasped out her words to Grave, having little breath to spare.
Charlotte didn’t stop until she fell to her hands and knees beside Scoff. His arms were still thrown over his neck and head. Blood flowed from angry slashes on his forearms.
“Scoff!” Charlotte grabbed his shoulder.
Scoff coughed, his breath coming in difficult wheezes as he rolled onto his side. “Charlotte?”
“Merciful Athene,” Charlotte’s voice cracked. “Are you all right?”
He sat up and coughed again. “I think so. Just couldn’t breathe when that thing knocked me down. What was it?”
“Catamount. An Imperial pet of sorts.” Charlotte took his hands, helping him to his feet. “We’re going to have to run to catch the boxcar. Can you manage?”
Scoff spared her a thin smile. “I guess we’ll see.”
When they set off to chase down the boxcar, Grave and Rufus were nowhere to be seen. Charlotte prayed that they were safely aboard the car and that Rufus’s injuries weren’t too severe. The train was moving at a fair clip now, making for a hard run. Scoff kept pace with her and soon they were gaining on the line of boxcars. Charlotte could see the open door coming closer, closer. And then they were alongside the car.
“Go!” Charlotte waved her arm, ordering Scoff to p
recede her.
Scoff surged forward and threw himself into the car. He rolled away into the shadowed interior.
A thrill of triumph gave Charlotte’s legs the strength to put on a new burst of speed. She was ready to jump, but suddenly she stumbled. Something—a rock, a root, a discarded rail spike, it didn’t matter what—but something snagged her foot and she was falling.
“No!” Charlotte cried out. But she knew it was over. There would be no catching the train now.
Charlotte cried out again, but this time from sudden pain as she was jerked out of her fall. Her body swung forward and then up. And then, impossibly, she was inside the boxcar, collapsed against Grave whose fingers were locked, vise-like, around her forearm.
“Hephaestus’s hammer, Grave!” Charlotte gasped. “I thought I was done for. Thank you.” Charlotte wanted to laugh, but she was still trying to catch her breath. “We made it. We all made it.”
Grave let go of Charlotte’s arm and nodded to Scoff, who stood nearby. Charlotte would have thrown her arms around him in a joyous embrace but for his expression.
“What?”
Scoff didn’t answer, just turned his head to look at the far corner of the car.
Birch was there, crouched beside a prostrate form.
“Rufus . . .” Charlotte hurried to Birch’s side.
Rufus was pale and unmoving. His eyes were closed.
“Is he—” Shock swallowed up her question when she saw the deep gashes running from the boy’s neck to his chest.
“There was no saving him.” Birch looked up from where he sat next to Rufus. “He lost too much blood, too quickly.”
A flat numbness crept into Charlotte’s mind. “The other children?”
“Frightened, of course,” Birch told her. His grief and anxiety were mirrored by Moses, who scuttled in and out of the tinker’s pocket, making tiny squeaks.
Charlotte followed Birch’s glance and saw Pip hovering over the rest of their flock. Many of the children were asleep, too exhausted to stay awake even under the alarming circumstances of their flight. Charlotte’s eyes found Jamie. The ginger-haired boy sat slightly apart from the group, tearless but glassy-eyed.
The Conjurer's Riddle Page 4