Night's engines nl-2

by Trent Jamieson

  “So you're part of this, too, William?” Kara said.

  The man at the lead glowered, though he kept it courteous. It was easy with that many guns behind. “If you could lower your weapons,” William said.

  “I’m sorry,” Mother Graine said, sounding anything but as she shook herself free of Kara's grip. The pilot let her go, as though there was no point in holding her. Margaret couldn't help but feel angry at that. If it were her, she'd be pressing the Verger's knife hard against the Mother's throat. Mother Graine said, “Things were never going to be that easy for you. This is my city.”

  “You don’t think that David won't kill them all,” Margaret said.

  “If David was so minded, yes, he might. But not before they killed the rest of you.”

  “And what if I kill you now?” She reached for the knife at her belt.

  Mother Graine shrugged. “I’m not important anymore. And everything that must be done can be done without me. One person is ultimately insignificant.” Her gaze was firmly on David. Margaret desperately wanted to show her just how significant she was, but Mother Graine was scarcely paying attention to her.

  David cleared his throat. “I’d rather not die now. But if it comes to that, well, then I’ll die on my own terms.”

  Mother Graine laughed. “Oh, David. Nothing is ever done on your terms. You will be carried from one disaster to the next. You will see your friends die, and even your success will be failure. Believe me, my little bird, I’m sparing you so much.” She turned to Kara. “Kara, my dear, I know you understand. Please get me Margaret’s weapons.”

  Margaret tensed, but Kara folded her arms. “Run for the Dawn,” she said, and whistled once, short and sharp.

  Mother Graine frowned. “You-”

  And the Dawn was an explosion of limbs. In a single whip-crack, every soldier was knocked from their feet, and Cam with them. The pilot scrambled to get upright, only to be knocked down again, men grabbing her arms, dragging her towards the door, beyond the Dawn 's considerable reach.

  Kara was already running. She swung her head round, eyes blazing. “I said, run!”

  And run they did.

  “David!” Mother Graine screamed. “You know that this is wrong.”

  If David heard her he didn't register it, just kept running. Kara had stopped at the doorifice to the Dawn. It opened for David, and he dived neatly through.

  William was already scrambling to his feet. Margaret knocked him back down as she passed, snatching his weapon.

  Another guard ran at her, and Margaret struck her hard in the head. David peered through the doorifice at her, his face confused.

  “What are you doing?” Kara demanded.

  “Cam,” Margaret said. “We need to get Cam.”

  But Cam was already being dragged from the hangar, away from the Dawn. A limb hurtled overhead, knocked another pilot down.

  Kara looked at Margaret, and something resolute and severe passed across her face, an edge of hardness. “No, we don’t have time. We can't, we leave now. We'll not have another chance.”

  Margaret pushed her away.

  “Look,” Kara said. “David needs you. Cam won't be hurt. Believe me. But if we don’t leave now, hell, we’re probably going to be thrown into gaol with her anyway. Besides, Cam's never going to leave without her Aerokin. Trust me, between you and her, she'll choose the Meredith Reneged every time.”

  Margaret hesitated a moment more, before running back towards the Dawn.

  “We need to hurry,” Margaret said, and Kara smiled.

  The Dawn 's limbs struck out and out. Engines fired, even as they passed through the doorifice.

  “They got Cam,” Margaret said to him.

  David nodded. “She'll be all right. What use is it for Mother Graine to hurt her?”

  “Mother Graine was ready to kill you,” Margaret said.

  “She'll be all right. You can't do anything about it now. None of us can. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is,” David said, though he looked about as happy as she felt.

  The Roslyn Dawn rose gracefully from the hangar, and not a shot was fired, until she was almost free and in the open air. The shot went wide. The Dawn fired a burst of shot in response, and every soldier within the hangar dropped to the floor.

  Cam was already gone.

  “They won't hurt her,” Kara Jade said. “Believe me. We don’t harm our own much.”

  The Dawn hit the air, bio-engines roaring, the northern wind a sudden beating presence. Margaret could feel the Aerokin working against it.

  “There’s no one to catch us,” Kara Jade said. “You’ve the fastest Aerokin and the finest pilot on your side. They'd sooner catch the wind than me.”

  Margaret looked around the familiar space of the Aerokin's gondola. Leaning by the doorifice was her endothermic weaponry. Cam had gotten that much done before they'd caught her. Margaret picked up the bag, scanned its contents, the familiar weapons: swords and rifles that had saved her life so many times.

  She found no comfort in them now, just carried them to her bunk at the rear of the Aerokin. She walked back to the doorifice. It opened at her approach, and the slightly cloying, slightly musty smell of the Aerokin faded.

  Drift was already a way behind them. No Aerokin had followed, instead they had gathered in the airspace over the Caress.

  “They know it's pointless following me,” Kara said from behind her.

  “This was too easy,” Margaret said. “All of it was too easy.”

  “What are you saying?” Kara rested a hand on her back. This close to the open doorifice, a single push from Kara would be enough to send her falling.

  Margaret turned. “Are you part of this, too?”

  Kara's face stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Was all this just some elaborate scheme, a test to see how determined David was to succeed?”

  “You’re seeing wheels within wheels,” Kara said. “And none of them make sense.”

  Margaret flashed her teeth. “So you weren’t in on it, then. You’re as much a dupe as David. Question is, did you pass or fail the test Mother Graine had set for you?”

  Kara frowned. “Look, we made it to the Dawn, and she’s the fastest Aerokin to ever live. No one, not even my sister, could catch us here. I see what you’re suggesting, but as a test, it’s far too complicated.”

  “I don’t think so; they needed to see that David — that we were all capable of doing this. I’ve no doubt that if we had failed we’d all be dead by now.”

  “Think that way, if you must. And I won’t argue. In fact, I’d prefer it to be that way.”

  “Manipulated?” Kara asked.

  “We’re all of us manipulated, but if what you think is true then it means there’s a chance for I and the Dawn. We might still be able to return.”

  “I think you’re right,” David said from behind them. “I think Mother Graine only showed us that room so I would know that she could have kept me in a place you would never have found me. That room, it did things to me. Weakened me, and the longer I’d have stayed there the worse it would have gotten. There’s no way I could have escaped from it. But here we are in the sky again.”

  “They won't follow us,” Margaret said. “We've jumped through her hoops, and ran her maze.”

  Kara shook her head. “She is the last survivor of her kind. The Mothers of the Sky have always ruled us. Now there is only one. Something beyond terrible has happened, and we are fleeing it.”

  “We’ll make it better,” David said.

  Kara laughed. “Do you really believe that? I mean, look at you both, Mr and Mrs Grim. Him with his cold hands. And you with those cold eyes. I could drown in the doubt and sadness in this cockpit.”

  “And you’re doing a wonderful job of lightening our hearts,” Margaret said.

  “I’m not here to lighten your bloody hearts. I’m here to get you north, like I promised I would. And I damn well will.”

  “And th
at’s all you need to focus on,” Margaret said.

  David glared at her, then shook his head.

  Kara laughed. “It’s going to be such a fun trip.”

  She jabbed a finger at David. “You, cold boy. Get me my rum. We’ve hours of flying to do, and I’m itching to get drunk.”

  “Is it ready?” the eldest asked, peering at the peculiar contraption.

  The second Old Man nodded.

  “Will it work?”

  “It will work,” the Old Man said. “It need only make one journey.” He lifted the machine in his hands, bound it to his body, and let them lead him to the great doors of the airship. Two of his brothers pulled the doors open, and he turned to the eldest one last time. “I will be swift.”

  “And we will follow,” the eldest Old Man said, gesturing for him to go.

  The Old Man stepped into the sky. The mechanism bound to him shuddered. It roared. And he did not fall.

  CHAPTER 31

  The truth about the Deep North was this. There was always something waiting to stop you. Tearwin Meet might be reached, but always at a cost. No one had survived beyond its high walls, and few lived to reach them and return. All we had were a few rough pictures, including, remarkably, one of the earliest examples of Immediacism — the artist didn't have long to dwell upon those high walls. Even the decision to travel north was a dangerous one.

  The Trouble with the North, Jesse Vandenbosch

  THE FREE AEROKIN ROSLYN DAWN 1500 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL

  By the end of the first day, even David could tell the Dawn was struggling. Kara stood cursing at the control panel, mumbling beneath her breath between louder exclamations. She'd gotten drunk and sobered to a terrible hangover, so bad that she’d downed handfuls of the healing salve at the heart of the Aerokin — and even some coffee, which she went to great pains to explain was more valuable than anything else on the Dawn, which was why she couldn't possibly share any — but apparently her headache was of world-ending proportions.

  “What’s happening?” David asked.

  “Those headwinds,” Kara said. “Headaches, headwinds, we're damned and doomed.” She swallowed more of the Dawn 's gel, washing it down with coffee. She winced. “I'd heard that the winds had picked up, but these are incredible. We’re going to have to approach Tearwin Meet, low and slow, and when the winds are at their weakest.”

  David frowned.

  “What does that mean?” Margaret asked.

  “Exactly what I said. Higher up the winds are blowing south, we’re going to need to follow the earth closer than I would like. The winds down there near the mud aren't much better, but they are better. Up here we'd be faster walking.”

  “I am being hunted, you know?” David said.

  “Yes,” Kara said. “Have the Old Men grown wings?”

  David smiled. “Of course not.”

  “The other thing, as much as I hate it, we are going to need to stop for the evening.”

  “What?”

  “The Dawn 's filters will need cleaning. A dead Aerokin won't get you to Tearwin Meet, and the winds are blowing fiercer with the evening, but they're dropping out a few hours before dawn. We will reach Tearwin Meet in three days. Surely that's fast enough.”

  “A day ago I thought I was going to die,” David said. “Three days is better than I could hope for.”

  “Yes, three days to death rather than yesterday,” Kara said. “You must be very pleased.”

  As promised, Kara brought the Dawn down just before sunset, the Aerokin fixing herself to the earth with her landing spurs. A ridge rose up before them, offering cover from the wind, but still it roared down from the north. There was a creek nearby, and Kara carried the Roslyn Dawn 's filters — black with Roil spores — there.

  The wind picked up even more, howling through the trees that lined the ridge. Old growth cracked, dust and wood was sent racing along the plains.

  “I don’t like this,” Margaret said.

  “It’s a defence mechanism,” David said. “The city in the north is cloaking itself in cold.”

  “And what good will that do against iron ships?”

  “There are other defences,” David said. “I'm a bit hazy on them, but they exist.”

  Kara came back an hour later with the filters cleaned, and her fingers cracked. She let the strips dry out in front of the fire. “The damned wind is blasting the spores into my Dawn.”

  “Three days,” David said. “And then we can end this.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “The Roil destroyed. The world turned cold and white,” Margaret said.

  “Sounds bloody awful,” Kara said.

  “It won’t last. The Mechanical Winter's brief, the spring that follows is long,” David said. “At least that's how it's meant to be.”

  “And if you're wrong?”

  “Everything dies,” Margaret said.

  When the filters had dried, Kara went back into the Dawn. “You two,” she shouted. “We will be leaving before first light.”

  “I’ll take first watch,” Margaret said.

  David shook his head. “No, I don’t want to sleep tonight. I can rest tomorrow, when we’re in the air.”

  Margaret frowned at him.

  “I need you to be ready,” he said. “I need you to be awake.” He didn't say for what, but she nodded her head, and clambered back into the Dawn.

  Five minutes after he was sure she was asleep, he slid the Carnival into his veins. At once he felt Cadell sliding away. He smiled to himself and the fire.

  He reached out to the flame and could hardly feel a thing. Cadell’s Orbis reflected the light, seemed to gather it in. He could see tiny clusters of flame within its heart; perhaps it really did contain a universe. Despite feeling the Old Man’s disapproval, he took a little more Carnival, and the ring’s light dulled. Keeping the Old Man at bay for another few hours.

  The Old Men were drawing closer, he couldn't work out how, but they were. Still they'd be in Tearwin Meet long before the Old Men could reach them. After all, they'd not grown wings! They were still far enough away that he need not worry, for all that he had suggested otherwise to Margaret.

  A little deception, there was no harm in it, surely.

  The Dawn was back in the sky in the near dark of early morning, great lights burning fore and aft, the world grey and old and cold around them. Bit by bit, moment by moment, the darkness succumbed to day, and David felt a deep affinity with that failing and flailing darkness. He felt himself running down, the Carnival he had taken last night was perhaps the last he could allow himself. He needed Cadell as they neared Tearwin Meet. David needed his knowledge, his memories, and he couldn’t keep pushing Cadell away. He couldn't give himself the privilege of comfort any more. He did his best to forget the Carnival in his boot, and watched instead the thinning of night, and the land passing by below, a sad and desolate landscape.

  The wind from the north built quickly as the sun made its way over the horizon. The flying contraption came up from beneath them. Not an iron ship, but something else, something fast and frail. Something that contained an Old Man.

  The Dawn 's cannon fired and missed; the winged thing lifted, swinging up, then looping around and shooting straight towards them.

  “It’s going to hit us,” Kara said, even as the Dawn dropped. “It’s-”

  The vehicle struck the Dawn hard, the Aerokin screamed and the whole gondola lurched to one side. Kara ran towards the doorifice, poked her head out.

  “No, no, no! David, Margaret, I'm going to need your help. Rope up!” She sounded calmer than her body language suggested. “The whole flank's-”

  A hand yanked her through the doorifice, flung her away. David caught the look of horror on her face, her hands flailing desperately for a grip, and then she was gone.

  Part Three

  Old Men

  Their words had forked no lightning, but there was always time, and there was always rage. You could feel it w
herever they passed. Cold as frost, dark as night. Everywhere the Old Men walked the world bled a little, died a little, too.

  Old Men Walking, Damien Thomas

  CHAPTER 32

  The Old Men were obviously a construction, a fairy tale. When you are faced with a force as dire as the Roil, it is human nature to construct something just as deadly to face it. The Old Men were madness, because we needed a madness we could claim for our own

  Myths of Mirrlees, Sarah Tope-Eschell

  THE ROSLYN DAWN 1500 MILES NORTH OF THE ROIL

  The Old Man pushed his way into the Aerokin; the hard material of the doorifice resisted, muscles flexed along its edge. But the Old Man was stronger, and the doorifice gave way all at once, with a tearing sound. Grimy beads of ice skittered across the floor towards them, kicked there by hobnailed boots.

  Margaret could feel the Dawn 's shock. The Old Man grinned, a grin far too wide for such a narrow face — as though it could barely contain his hunger — but he wasn’t staring at Margaret. His eyes were focussed on David with the heated intensity of a lover.

  A cleaver hung from the Old Man's belt: a crude weapon for one so elegant. And there was an elegance about him — from the morning coat he wore to the heavy black boots on his feet; his beard was trimmed neatly; his hands almost delicate, though strong and thick through the middle. Only that smile and that blade — a thing even a Verger wouldn’t use — were so raw. And there was a weight to him, a mass that made the floor creak as though it were trying to get out of his way.

  “Little brother! At last! At last!” the Old Man said, with such a note of glee in his voice, that in any other situation it would have been comedic, but here and now it pulled the heat from her as effectively as any powers the Old Men possessed. But she did not fumble. She lifted her rifle and shot the Old Man neatly in the chest. The endothermic bullet clattered to the floor. The Old Man turned and motioned towards her, a sort of you’ll be next gesture, then shrugged, as though she was of such little account.