Steamscape

by D. Dalton

  She patted the cipher medallion on her waist. Nothing for it.

  With a sharp whistle, she startled the men at the campfire. They whirled, hands going for their swords and pistols. “Shit!” one of them snarled. “They found us.”

  “No, no they haven’t! Whoever they are.” Solindra stepped out of the trees, holding the rifle by the stock over her head. Her other hand was also up. “Can you spare some of what’s in the pot? I’m by myself.”

  She immediately cursed that admission, and then wondered from whom they were hiding. Her stomach finally stopped protesting at that thought.

  They leveled several pistols and rifles at her.

  She gulped. “I’m not a Steampower soldier. I just stole the uniform. Look, I’m not threatening you and I’m alone.”

  “What’s a girl doin’ wearin’ a uniform anyway?” The fat one of the group kept her in his rifle sights. None of the guns moved away from her.

  “Look, I’m running and hungry. I’m not threatening you or anything.”

  That resulted in a huddle.

  She pointed behind herself. “I can tell you which direction to avoid. There are Steampower men–”

  The fat one laughed coldly. “Ain’t no Steampower boots in these woods. Not this close to Codic.”

  She frowned. “Maybe there are, maybe there ain’t. Is that a chance you want to take?”

  Then she saw it. The shifting of weight from one foot to the next in at least three of the men.

  The tall man, with a dark beard and hat, raised his hand and lowered his pistol. “Fine. Lay your rifle up against that tree there and step away from it. Smedly, get the lady some grub.”

  “Yes, boss.” A shorter man with a scar across his hand ducked back toward the fire.

  Solindra hesitated. If it were any other rifle, she wouldn’t have paused. After a moment, she set it down and took three steps directly in front of it, still holding up her hands. The backpack remained in place against her shoulder blades.

  Smedly jogged up but stopped short and held out a bowl of stew at arm’s length. Solindra forced a smile and reached forward to grasp the dish. “Thank you.”

  The scent of the meal nearly overpowered her knees. It had been far too long. She stuck the wooden spoon into the bowl and was in heaven. It burned her tongue, but she didn’t mind.

  The boss had stepped closer, but was still several yards away. He peered around the vessel at her weapon. “Polishes up nicely. Trade you for it?”

  “I’ll trade you a bullet from it first,” she said without thinking.

  The man eased up one hand, the other armed with an old-fashioned muzzle-loading pistol. “Easy now, we’re all friends enough here.”

  Solindra swallowed the last chunk of meat. “Right. It’s been dangerous around here lately.”

  “Oh yes, we know.” This time, the boss winked.

  She didn’t look up, too busy chasing down the last carrot in the bowl. “All that I’ve seen. Everyone who ain’t fighting in this war are the ones suffering for it.”

  “Yeah.” The boss inched toward her. “Come across lots of people heading to Codic.”

  “No! They can’t go there.”

  The man smiled and took another step. “Why not?”

  Solindra shuffled back toward her rifle, just one pace.

  “Redjakel and Codic are the only safe places left,” he oiled. “Especially with the return of the Hex.”

  The bowl and spoon fell from the vessel’s limp fingers. She blinked several times. “The Hex is back?”

  “Half of ‘em, they say.” The man smirked.

  “Where?”

  “Territan Badlands. Dramatic scenery for it too, since they brought the bulk of the Steampower army.”

  The Hex is back. The Badlands. In front of the desert where the Killing Trains roll, Solindra’s mind raced, tracing her route across Codic’s and Steampower’s imaginary line. The Hex is back.

  Her heart sang at the thought. They had hoisted up a flag so large that she wouldn’t be able to not find them.

  “It’s happening,” the boss chuckled. “So that’s why everyone’s holing up in the nearest capital city. Only safe places left.” He started to lean forward. “Even the gentleman who so kindly lent us this boat. Took a whole day of scrubbing to get his brains off the deck.”

  He lunged.

  She stood her ground and grabbed the sancta. As his hands closed in on her neck, she pressed the cipher medallion down into his wrist.

  She had a good view of his face. First it froze, then paled and finally colored in green. He threw up his hands. “No, Mama, no! I’ll be good! Just don’t!” He curled up and crashed down onto the ground.

  The others were running up, guns sights bouncing on and off of her with their movements.

  Solindra dove back for the rifle and rolled behind the tree trunk. Shots thudded into the wood behind her.

  There was no river to save her this time.

  Breathing, vision, balance. That’s what Drina had taught her in all those games. Take one from them, and earn the other two.

  She dug into the backpack. Behind her, footsteps bounced off the trees while the men spread out. She yanked out one of the clockwork grenades, sparked its igniter and hurled it around the trunk in the direction of the boss.

  “Grenade!” someone hollered.

  The vessel jumped up and sprinted at the anchored airship. That should take care of all three at once. No steady breathing, no vision or balance when they threw themselves to the ground, face-first into the dirt. It exploded.

  She threw a second clockwork grenade and pulled one of the knives she’d freed from the Steampower soldiers and leapt onto the anchor. She heard the grenade pop well behind her and amid the spray of shrapnel came at least one horrified wail.

  Solindra really wished she had a better idea, but she had only what little opportunity she had just stolen. With the knife, she started sawing on the anchor’s line.

  More shots thundered from behind her. She hurled her last grenade.

  The explosion stopped the men from shooting long enough for her to finish sawing through the anchor’s rope. The boat had already been blowing with the wind and now it was set free in its current.

  She started to haul herself up the rope, hand over hand. They shot, and a couple bullets struck the hull within a foot of her.

  This had been another game on the mountain. Climbing up ropes in between the cliffs had been common enough, and sometimes balancing on ropes strung between some of the heights, although Little Cylinder had only been allowed ones that were two feet above the grass in the Garden.

  She climbed now with nothing but the wind around her. More shots and shouts echoed from below, but she could not worry about them.

  Her arms burned with effort. The higher she made it up the rope, the higher the ship sailed. She finally was able to kick the hull with her boots. The wind battered the short length of her stolen coat.

  The shots sounded almost distant now. She gripped the railing in one hand; the rope had become too tight against the wood to support a higher handhold. She strained to walk her feet up the hull. At last, she pulled herself over the railing, gasping as she collapsed down.

  The cipher medallion, rifle and backpack melted off her body, and the vessel slithered down onto the deck.

  She suddenly remembered how much she dreaded sky-sailing. Her stomach and hands clenched. She swallowed her most recent meal back down again while it fought to escape.

  She’d just climbed up a rope in the air. In the air!

  A whimper slipped out of her mouth and she stared ahead unblinkingly.

  She laid there shaking for a few minutes while the balloon drifted with the wind and the ship creaked beneath her.

  “Get up, Cyl– Solindra. Get up, Sol.” She heard her own voice, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

  “Move, Sol, or it’s only going to get worse.”

  She managed to uncurl one hand.

 
“Progress. Good. Now the other one.”

  Bit by piece she managed to sit upright, trembling every time one of the lines anchoring the balloon to the boat jostled. She wanted to cry, but instead she heard herself say, “Check the boilerbox.”

  She crawled on her hands and knees to the stern, all the while staring hard at the deck. The coal-fired box was dead. The propeller remained locked in place. She was totally at the wind’s mercy.

  Next, she checked the water containment. At least that was full. She crawled back to her items and snatched up the sancta. After sliding aft again, she dropped the device into the water.

  Almost immediately, steam began to spin the ship’s turbine and the propeller lazily started to turn. As the water heated, the blades began to spin with some force.

  She pondered steering next, and pulled herself up to her knees, but that was it. She crawled forward to the ship’s wheel and all its controls, levers and gauges. It was a fine new ship, even boasting a radar panel. The little square was covered with wires and little metal talismans that showed approximately where other ships and objects were.

  She popped open the sailor’s drawer at the base of the control panel and pulled out a set of maps, compasses, and a sextant. Well, if she knew where she was currently, she could figure out where she was going. The edges of the map fluttered in the wind.

  The ship continued to rise. She guessed that it hadn’t been weighted for a crew of one. She found the lever with a small plaque reading “Ballonets”. She pushed it forward. Hissing like a bag of snakes began to sound overhead. The ballonets full of regular air inside the dirigible were releasing, losing weight, causing the ship to rise faster.

  “Damn!” She yanked the lever back toward her guts. The hissing faded to be replaced by the sounds of fans running, pushing the heavier air into the ballonets, and the ship soon started to lower toward the ground.

  When the ship was gliding above the treetops, Solindra finally breathed out. She spread the maps out on the deck, weighting them down with the compasses and sextant. She pointed to Codic and followed the river she’d escaped on. Then she had to find the town of Ronna.

  She did, and followed the railroad out of the town to the next river, and traced that upstream. She tapped her finger on where she thought she was and checked one of the compasses to see which direction she was going, and whether or not that corresponded with the map.

  With a fair wind, she could make the Territan Badlands. She leaned back and frowned. There was no guarantee that the robber’s information about the Hex had been correct. Still, it was enough to try.

  She pulled herself up to the helm. The steam had built up by now. The wind was at her back in the first bit of solid luck since she’d left Pitchstone. She pulled the lever marked “Sails”.

  Ropes and pulleys whirred. The sails unfolded on either side of the balloon. She wobbled for balance as the wind punched at them and sped her forward. The bottom of the ship brushed against the trees.

  Solindra breathed deeply a few times and vented more air. The ship drifted higher above the shrinking trees. Behind her, all she could see were the taller deciduous trees, but ahead they were starting to fade to shorter trees and hardier pines. She shaded her eyes at the setting sun and tried to make out the horizon.

  She turned away from the helm and sat back down, away from the railings and views. She pulled the silver rifle into her lap and stared hard at it. Around her, darkness began to rise with the disappearing sun.

  Truth is temporary.

  She continued to stare at the engraved rifle. Her steady, safe life certainly had been.

  That was what he’d meant. Life changes. Everything anyone knows changes. The truth is a rock, sure, and maybe clinging to it would help her survive the storm, but even rocks eventually weather away.

  It was okay to change. Survival meant change. It was okay to be who she needed to be in the moment. Certainly, Cylinder wouldn’t have thought about throwing grenades at anyone, but Solindra would, and had.

  She wanted to hug the rifle. Her father had certainly changed from the man she’d known from at home. She had never suspected him of being the leader of the Hex. Not once.

  There was no permanent anchor to life, she thought. She had tied her foot to the boulder of truth about her dad, and had felt like she was drowning when it had rolled out to sea.

  She checked the rifle’s load and discovered she was down to two bullets. All she owned in the world was this rifle, two bullets and a stolen sky-ship.

  She checked over the railing and espied a dark mass moving portside on the boat. She squinted. The radar’s trinkets were all gathering in the corner of the display, rattling together like bones.

  Airboats, tanks and ranks of soldiers marched through the forest fast fading to scrublands. The flag of Eliponesia snapped in the wind on tanks, on horseback and even carried by some foot soldiers.

  Codic had sent their army.

  Solindra kicked the ballonets lever fully backward, trying to hide her airship in night’s oncoming embrace.

  She took one glance over her shoulder at the proceeding army. “I don’t think two bullets will be enough.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Solindra ignored the whine of the whistle; she didn’t know its pattern. She picked at the Steampower uniform, walking here amongst all the troops. She ducked her eyes and kept moving. If no one looked too closely…

  “Hey!”

  She flinched and turned. A sergeant across the way pointed. “Sweetheart, mess tent is that way!” His nostrils flared.

  “You’d better hop to it then.” She gripped the strap of her rifle and resumed walking, but she heard his rapid footsteps crunching across the rocky soil.

  “Who gave you a gun?” The sergeant reached out to snag her shoulder and spin her around. He never got the chance. Instead, he got a rifle butt in his throat.

  He dropped to his knees, grabbing at his neck and hacking.

  Her shadow spread over him. “I’ve only got two bullets left, and you’re not worth it.”

  “Not…ladylike!” he wheezed.

  She shrugged. “No, but it is very human.” Then she leaned down over him. “Point to where the Hex is.”

  Her motion brought the red sancta in front of the sergeant’s nose. She could see him thinking, his forehead creasing and his eyes widening as he wondered if it was what he suspected. He dropped his face, still coughing, and waved a limp hand to the east.

  She spun around and walked on.

  The vessel hoped he hadn’t seen her sweating.

  She had attempted to land the stolen airship near, but not too close, to Steampower’s army. It had been an ugly walk from there. The Badlands looked pretty in the sunlight with its different colored bands of exposed strata in the light of the moons, but navigating its deceptive heights was hell. Suddenly, the next step would either be two hundred feet high or a thousand feet deep of sandy, crumbling, packed dirt. Or possibly one of the dozens of dead-end canyons that narrowed like funnels.

  Finally, the Steampower uniform had come in handy. She’d mixed in easily enough. She had scanned the mass of soldiers. This was Steampower’s army, almost all of it. She had left Codic’s behind, but not far enough.

  Solindra slipped around the tents and decided on the route with the most cover on her way to a miniature plateau.

  Her stomach gurgled again.

  She gritted her teeth. This time, it would wait. She started toward the helipad-shaped hill, having to dip into an icy stream and climb out the far side. There was no direct route in the landscape’s maze. If there was a worse place for an army to gather, she couldn’t imagine it.

  Finally, she stood at the base of the hill and looked up. Drina was talking and Jing was working on the titangle in the center. Flame was smoking something and staring off at the horizon.

  Solindra began to climb up the hill and then froze. What could she say now? The night’s wind nipped at the back of her neck, calling her away from the sto
rm she knew was coming.

  But she couldn’t turn away now. She cupped her mouth. “Drina! Jing!”

  The sound of a wrench dropping inside the titangle was the only noise on the mound. She forced her feet to move, but she hadn’t made it to the crest when Jing reached down and plucked her up, trying to crush her in a hug.

  “Cyl– Solindra!” Drina grabbed her from behind.

  Flame waved shyly from around the titangle, and then leaned forward with a leer. “Well, well.” He licked his lips.

  Drina took a step back to look the young woman over. Her face paled. “That’s Mark’s rifle!” Even Jing’s eyes widened. They both backed away at the sight.

  Solindra gulped back her own tears and nodded.

  “How did you get that?” the assassin demanded.

  “Adri.” The vessel shrugged. “She tried to buy me with it.”

  “Adri.” Jing frowned. “She doesn’t know where you are.”

  She could only shrug again. “And I don’t know where she is.”

  Flame checked his fingernails. “I doubt it will stay that way for long. So you made yourselves public to draw the little spark here, and you don’t think Adri didn’t work that one out too?”

  Jing clenched his jaw and shook his head at Flame.

  Solindra gasped. “But, but...”

  Flame chuckled. “Can’t just run away neither. Would look like deserters.”

  “What’s going on?” Solindra’s vision whirled between Jing and Drina. “I saw Codic’s army–”

  “We have scouts and fliers too,” Drina said calmly. “We’re aware, but this is bad ground to fight on.”

  Jing blew out a sigh. “This battle is just to draw Codic’s attention, but Steampower shouldn’t be camping out here tonight with Codic’s army drawing close. Alas, they’re not listening to us.”

  “But I saw Codic’s forces! They’re marching through the night! And this is really Steampower’s army? All of it?”

  “Couldn’t fake it, so they sent the real thing. Saturni has some other plan going on though. Won’t tell us, of course.”