I found Robie’s tent and I settled down on the ground next to his cot. I made one more attempt to heal him, but I had only enough energy to make sure he wasn’t bleeding internally. After that, I fell asleep on the ground next to him with the warm fire at my back and a thousand images fleeting through my mind, each more terrifying than the last. The worst, the deepest unspoken fear at the back my mind was the one where the Vangars found our camp. That was the thought that brought me nightmares all through the night, and well into the next afternoon.
The refugees arrived sometime in the morning, but I wasn’t awake to greet them. It was early afternoon when Analyn came into the tent to wake me. As my eyes fluttered open, I realized that someone had moved me. I was no longer in the tent with Robie. I was in Analyn’s tent.
“How is he?” were the first words out of my mouth.
Analyn gave me a motherly smile. “He’ll live, with a few weeks’ rest and plenty of soup. How about you?”
I sat up, grimacing from the pain that seemed to rack my entire body. “I’m all right,” I said. “Though I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamwagon.”
“Something bigger than that, judging from the stories I’ve heard,” Analyn said.
“Stories? Then the others made it here safely?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And they weren’t followed?”
“I don’t believe so. Tam was very careful about that. He had other Tal’mar with him. They’re quite good at that sort of thing.”
“Of course.” I closed my eyes, remembering the scene. “How many refugees?” I said.
“Nearly three hundred, about half of them Tal’mar. You’ve doubled the size of our camp in one night. I don’t think the Tal’mar will be staying long, though. They seem eager to return north and find their queen.”
“I’m not surprised. What about the others?”
“Well, they’re saying you’re a hero again, but they say that often don’t they?”
I laughed quietly. The truth was that it had been a long time since humans –or anyone- had paid much attention to me. I was important to them in the early days, after the end of the war when they saw me as the catalyst of great changes. Eventually though, when they got used to the changes and life became a matter of living one day to the next, they forgot about me. For the most part, I was happy to be forgotten. I hadn’t wanted to become part of the politics and intrigue of government, or any other important things. I just wanted to fly.
“But will the refugees stay?” I said. “Will they help us fight the Vangars?”
“Where else would they go?” Analyn said, sighing. She settled onto her cot across from me. “Don’t misunderstand me, these people are not fighters. The good fighters were the first to die when the Vangars attacked. What we have left are farmers and merchants. Some of them are angry enough to fight, but they’re not trained for it. They simply have nothing else. They can’t go back to their farms, and they can’t survive without some larger system to hold them together. The Tal’mar might be able to disappear into the wilderness and survive, but these people can’t.”
“I’ve made a mess of things,” I said. “Tinker told me not to let the Vangars know about us, but that’s just what I’ve done. When that ship doesn’t return on time…”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure the Vangars had already assumed that some of us escaped. Seeing what happened to their ship may anger them, but I still doubt they’ll take us very seriously.”
“Why not?”
“Because they know that we are outmanned and outgunned. Even if there were a thousand of us, or two or three thousand, we still wouldn’t have a chance. My guess is that the Vangars will ignore us for now. Unless we force them to pay attention.”
“Why would we do that?” I said.
Analyn frowned. “I’d rather not speak of such things yet. Please, before we go on, tell me of your conversation with Tinker last night. You said he has no plans as of yet?”
“He’s planning something. He has joined together with the sheriff of Riverfork and the mayor, and some others. He wouldn’t tell me any more about it though, except that he was learning about the Vangars and finding their weaknesses. He told me to come back during the new moon.”
Analyn pursed her lips. “That’s two weeks away,” she said. “I suppose in the meanwhile, we’ll have our hands full just keeping this group fed and sheltered.”
“He also said to make weapons,” I added. “Guns, swords, even bombs. Whatever we can manage.”
Analyn considered that. “Indeed, I can see the reason behind that. Perhaps it would be wise to send scouts into the abandoned farms and villages looking for supplies. I doubt the Vangars have managed to destroy everything worthwhile. I suppose we should form a team as soon as possible.”
I cracked a smile, considering the idea. I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of crossing paths with any more Vangars, but I certainly didn’t feel like spending the next two weeks sitting around the camp either. This might be just the job I needed.
“I could form a team quite quickly,” I said, purposefully injecting myself into the situation. “Four or five of us would be about right. A small group with horses or better yet, a steamwagon.”
“Why a steamwagon?”
“For cargo,” I said. “We can’t carry an anvil or lathe on horseback. If we’re really going to do this, we’ll need tools and blacksmithing equipment.”
“I see. And if you’re traveling by steamwagon, you won’t be moving very fast. You’ll need men who can fight off a Vangar patrol. You will run across them eventually, I suspect.”
“No doubt,” I said. “I need a group large enough to fight, but not so many that we can’t move quickly. Five at the most, I would say.”
Analyn smiled. “And do you have five in mind?”
My thoughts immediately went to Robie. I knew he’d want to be part of what I was doing, but he would be recovering from his injuries for some time. Most likely, we’d have the hard work done by the time he was up and around. Naturally, my thoughts went to Tam next, not so much because I wanted him around, but because I knew we could use him. He was a good fighter, an excellent archer, and he knew very well how to remain stealthy. That was one thing I could always expect from a Tal’mar, and almost never expect from a human. Humans are for the most part noisy, clumsy creatures. The problem was that I didn’t know how long Tam would be willing to stay, especially now that he had a flood of refugees to deal with. They already wanted to leave.
“I don’t know,” I said at last. “I don’t have anyone in mind, but I’m sure I could find the right people.”
“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Analyn said, rising from her cot. “Take a look around. When you’ve got the right men picked out, bring them to me.”
She slipped out and left me sitting there, my head still cloudy from sleep. I searched my memory for anyone other than Tam or Robie that might fit my needs, but I could think of no one.
After breakfast, I checked on Robie. He was sleeping, so I took a moment to check his wounds and then left him in peace. He was healing nicely, but as I expected, it would be a long while before he was back to normal. I probably could have encouraged that process along, but I wasn’t in a hurry to have him back on his feet and I knew it would be best to let the healing progress naturally, if possible. Not only that, but I also wanted to give him time to think about what a stupid fool he’d been, taking off and getting caught like that. Things may have turned out, but they could have been much worse.
I followed Analyn’s advice and wandered the camp for a while, talking to the refugees and watching them work. I saw a good number of healthy young men and women, and I saw a number of older, more experienced fighters, but nothing in the middle. It seemed I’d have to choose between youth and vigor or age and experience. Each had its drawbacks. Obviously, the younger generation was more suited to the kind of work we’d be doing, but they were completely untested in battle. Most o
f them had never raised a sword made of anything but wood. The older, more experienced fighters would have been useful in combat but not in the heavy work of moving anvils and barrels.
When I finally returned to Analyn, she was at the center of the camp, overseeing the daily operations. The one advantage of being the rightful heir to the throne was that when Analyn told someone to do something, they did it. That made for a very efficient, well-managed camp. No one dared argue with the woman who might someday be queen.
“There you are!” she said as I approached. “Tell me, what have you decided?”
I explained my situation with a great deal of sighing and rolling my eyes. Analyn understood perfectly. “I think I may have a solution for you,” she said with a wide grin.
I raised my eyebrows. “I’d love to hear it.”
“We’ll have a competition. I’ll order a few targets and sparring circles installed, and we’ll test our warriors’ abilities.”
“All right,” I said skeptically. “But I need more than just good fighters. I need strength and stamina.”
“We’ll see to that as well,” Analyn said. “We have plenty of heavy lifting to do around here. We have stumps and trees to move, and a good deal more.”
My eyes lit up as I considered the idea. As unusual as it sounded, it really wasn’t. The humans and the Tal’mar had held such contests annually during their harvest festivals for centuries. The competitions allowed strapping young males to display their prowess and strength, while raising the spirits of the spectators who stood by cheering them on. Many young marriages began with the festival competitions.
There was one aspect that still concerned me though. “Do we have time for this?” I said. “How long will it take to prepare?”
“Not that long,” Analyn said. “I’ll set everyone to work on it. We’ll have the contest tomorrow afternoon. By tomorrow night, you’ll have your team.”
I grinned. “This might actually work.”
“Of course it will,” Analyn said. “I didn’t get this old by being a fool.”
I didn’t bother to point out that being a fool had stopped very few people I’d known from attaining old age. Instead, I responded with an old Tal’mar proverb: “Wisdom is not an inheritance, but a reward,” I said.
Analyn nodded wisely. “So it is. With any luck, most of the fools around us will live long enough to grow wise themselves.”
We both laughed at that. Analyn turned around, scanning the tents behind us. “Kale! Kale Corsan, get over here!”
My eyes widened as I heard the name. “Corsan?” I said, just as a young black-haired teen came racing into the village circle. I stared at him, wondering at the meaning of it.
“Spread the word, we’re having harvest games tomorrow. Tell the men to set up targets and a fighting ring at the edge of the woods. We’ll also need tree stumps and barrels.”
“Harvest games!” Kale said. “Can I join?”
“You’ll have to ask Breeze,” Analyn said. “She’s judging the contests.” She winked at me.
“Please, Miss Breeze,” he said. “I’m good with a bow and with a sword, too!”
“I… we’ll see tomorrow,” I said awkwardly.
“Go on now, spread the word,” Analyn said, shooing him off. I watched him disappear into the tents. “He’s the general’s nephew, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said.
I nodded mutely. Even though he was young, I could clearly see the family resemblance. “I didn’t know,” I said. “I didn’t realize that General Corsan had family.”
“Kale’s father was the general’s brother. He’s here now. They made it out of Avenston ahead of the Vangars, but Kale’s mother wasn’t so fortunate.”
I slowly absorbed that. “He’s a bit young, don’t you think? To be fighting I mean?”
Analyn smiled at me. “He’s fourteen. Older than Robie was when you made him a pilot, and older than you were at the time.”
I turned to stare at her. “But… that was different,” I stammered.
Analyn’s smile grew, but she didn’t argue with me. Instead, she turned away and wandered out into the tents. I stood there for a long time after. Somehow, it seemed that time had gotten away from me. It didn’t seem possible that I could have been so young at the time, but Analyn was right. Tal’mar children mature approximately twice as fast as humans do, so physically I had always looked older than I really was. After a little more than two years of living with Tinker, I had matured into a young teen. Then the war swept us away, and suddenly I was flying about in Tinker’s planes, carrying messages and treaties, and trying to prevent an all-out coup.
In retrospect, I wondered how I’d survived it all. Granted, I hadn’t been involved in much physical combat, but I’d stood face to face with General Corsan and Prince Sheldon and told them in no uncertain terms how things were going to be. I’d faced down an army of Kanters rather than waiting to die in a Riverfork jail cell.
How I must have seemed then, this brazen young half-breed girl with no sense and no experience who thought she knew everything. It was a wonder that I hadn’t gotten myself killed. And yet somehow, I hadn’t. Somehow, I had believed in my dreams so ferociously that I convinced others to believe in them also. I couldn’t help but wonder at the audacity of it all, at my own childish hubris, and the way it had all somehow fallen into place.
And now young Kale Corsan was here, and he wanted to fight, and I had looked at him exactly the way so many people had looked at me when I was young. I realized with some embarrassment that I had changed over the years, and not for the better. What had become of my passion, of my dreams? Had I become no more than a complacent, lazy-spirited pilot with no aspirations greater than floating through the clouds? Or worse, had I become as cynical as the others who’d looked down on me when I was fighting for something better?
I realized with some trepidation that I had some soul-searching to do.
Chapter 16
The next day, I still couldn’t believe how much the camp had grown. We needed at least a dozen more tents and that would still leave most of the men sleeping under the stars.
Analyn organized multiple hunting parties and sent another group to forage for edible wild plants and mushrooms. Someone else discovered the old garden we had planted ten years earlier. Though many of the plants had grown wild, they were still very much a viable food source. In all, things looked bleak but they could have been much worse. We had food, shelter, and the means to build something, and that was a start.
I wandered to the south end of camp to see what the mechanics had learned about the gyroplane. I found it in pieces, spread out across the ground. The head mechanic, a middle-aged man named Cleff, had taken the engine to a nearby table. He had it in pieces as well.
“What have you learned?” I said, joining him.
He glanced at me, scratching the back of his head with greasy fingers. “This here’s a combustion engine,” he said.
“Combustion? As in exploding?”
“Yep, sorta. The black oil the Vangars use for fuel is highly combustible. Watch this.” He held up a glass jar with a pint or so of the Vangars’ fuel. Then he took the burning candle from the edge of the table and touched the flame to the top of the jar. Bright flames whooshed up, and I felt warmth radiating across my skin. After a moment, the flames died down and a column and thick black smoke rolled into the air. Cleff covered the jar with a piece of thick leather, smothering the life out of the fire.
“The way this works, is the engine sucks a bit of fuel and a bit of air in at the same time. Then, the piston rotates up, compressing the mixture until it explodes.”
My eyebrows went up. “That’s clever,” I said. “What keeps the piston moving?”
“There’s two, and they alternate positions. They’re timed so that each explosion pushes the opposite piston up.”
“Fascinating. What ignites the explosion?”
“Nothing, far as I can tell. I guess the mixture gets h
ot when it’s compressed.”
I stared at the engine with renewed wonder. “Do you think there’s something special about the oil?” I said. “Like with Blackrock steel?”
“Oh, definitely. I tried kerosene and it don’t work half as good. Wouldn’t hardly burn at all.”
I considered that for a moment. “So kerosene isn’t as explosive as the black oil… what about whiskey?”
He looked at me as if I were insane. “Whiskey! Why would you waste good whiskey on something like this?”
I stared at him, suddenly understanding the difference between him and Tinker. Cleff was a mechanic, a simple man who could reproduce what he saw, but completely void of imagination or creativity. “Pure alcohol is volatile,” I said. “It’s almost as explosive as black powder.”
He rolled his eyes as if I was a fool. “That’ll never work,” he said.
“Why not?”
“’Cause this engine don’t use alcohol!”
I sighed. I was half-tempted to tell him to just shut up and try it. Then I thought better of it. Alcohol was definitely more explosive than kerosene but it was also a lot thinner. It was possible that the lower viscosity of alcohol would cause other problems with the engine. I wondered if that was what Cleff had meant by his inarticulate statement.
“Try some kerosene mixed with alcohol,” I said. “Maybe one part alcohol and two parts kerosene. Experiment a little, just don’t hurt yourself.”
“If you say so.”
I left Cleff to his experiments, wondering if I’d made a mistake. I hated not having Tinker around. In my years with him, Tinker had taught me almost everything I knew, and yet he still had a library worth of information in his skull that was beyond me. It wasn’t just facts with Tinker, though. He had the ability to imagine and try new things. His mind was always working on ways to solve problems. If he’d been at the camp, I had no doubt that Tinker would have already mastered the Vangars’ technology and probably improved upon it. Instead of having the one gyroplane on the ground in pieces, he’d have it back together with improvements, and more gyro designs ready to build.
Tinker's War (The Tinkerer's Daughter Book 2) Page 13