by Devon Monk
Bryn and Cadoc Madder made fast work of folding the blankets they had been wearing and stuffing them into their satchels strapped across their chests and hanging at their waists. Then Bryn Madder lit a candle and Cadoc Madder lit two lanterns that were pegged on the wall, handing one lantern to Rose Small.
“Here.” Rose gave the lantern to Mae. The lantern was a green glass globe caught all round in silver vines and leaves, so that it looked to be a glowing flower. Oil wick inside, it was a beautiful device, and made with a master metalsmith’s fine hand. Not what she’d expect rough miners to stock in case of emergencies such as this.
The tunnel was tall and wide enough for two people to walk shoulder to shoulder. Here and there along the wall were crates and sacks covered with heavy canvas. Wooden crossbeams and bracers were set off down the tunnel at a steady distance, holding the earth above, while straight down the middle of the ceiling, supported by the wooden beams, rested a single rail.
She hadn’t a clue what the rail was in place for and could not believe how many supplies the Madders had stashed away. A veritable storehouse this close to her home and she’d never once suspected the tunnel was here.
“You’ll want a sling.” Alun Madder pulled the canvas cover from the pile of gear by the ladder and started digging through the odds and bits.
“Sling?” Mae said.
“Sling.” Alun pulled what looked like an unattached rope swing out of the pile. “Netted bottom here is the sling part. That you’ll sit upon. These”—he strung out the two heavy ropes that looped together through an iron hook—“you’ll attach to the eye loop there.” He pointed upward.
Mae lifted the globe and could just make out several metal loops hanging from the iron rail above them.
“Why?”
Rose Small took the sling from Alun and handed it to Mae. “It’s quite a lot of fun, if a little breezy.”
“Fun?” Mae asked. “Swinging in a tunnel?”
“Not swinging,” Alun Madder said. “Soaring.” He produced a sling from the pack on his back, then hooked it into an eye loop. “Mind that you keep your feet tucked on the corners or you might break an ankle. Or worse.” He stood in front of the sling, hands on the rope just as if he were a child ready to get a push on a swing. But as he walked backward to the ladder, the hook and eye above him clacked like a chain tightening a spring.
“I’ll see you at the first junction. We’ll have to switch lines there.” He sat down in the sling, which lowered slightly under his weight, then lifted his feet. The spring device above shot him forward so fast, Mae sucked in a breath at the gush of wind that filled the tunnel.
The light from Alun Madder’s lantern swung across the walls and ceiling of the tunnel, showing a good, long, straight shot, before suddenly the light whipped left and was swallowed by darkness.
“Quick,” Rose Small said. “It’s safe enough. I rode it most of the way from town.” She took a sling out of her pack and shook it out, righting the ropes and seat. That she left on the ground and instead snatched up Mae’s sling. “Just mind to keep your skirts tamped tight and tuck your feet on that corner.” She hooked the eye loop, and held the seat of the sling out for Mae.
“Latch the lantern here.” Rose used a leather thong sewn into the rope to secure the globe near Mae’s shoulder. The lantern tossed up enough light to catch on the clever wheels and gears that were attached like a miniature cart above the rail, the eye loop hook directly below it.
“Where does the tunnel lead?”
Rose Small shrugged. “Don’t know that it matters so long as it’s away from that mob who want you burned. They think you did witchcraft on Elbert.”
“They found Elbert?” Mae asked.
“That devil LeFel brought in a boy who looks like Elbert,” Rose Small hedged.
“The Strange,” Mae breathed.
“You know about them?” Rose Small’s words came out in a tumble of relief.
“Yes, I do,” Mae said. “Too well.”
“Hurry up now, ladies,” Bryn Madder said. “We need to be out from under their feet before they realize we’ve gone.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Rose said, holding up her own sling and smiling.
“Just walk backward toward me, Mrs. Lindson,” Bryn Madder said. “When you lift your feet, you’ll swing down the line and go it strong.”
Mae held tight to the ropes and walked backward. It wasn’t difficult to pull the rope back. She kept a good hold on the shotgun in her left hand, her heart pounding.
“That’s good, now,” Bryn Madder said. “Sit back and hold on to your bonnet.”
Mae sat. Then she lifted her feet. The sling shot forward at a remarkable speed. She held tight to the ropes, surprised at how smoothly the wheel device above drove down the rails.
Other than the occasional crate or sack stacked along the wall, Mae had no good handle on distance, but knew she must have gone far enough that she heard the twang of another sling being shot behind her. She twisted to see who it was, but in the darkness and shadows thrown against the walls and ceiling, she couldn’t make out much.
With no horizon, sun, or moon, she couldn’t say which direction she was going, but knew the corner must be just ahead. She tucked her feet, just as the lantern slapped light across a wall dead ahead of her.
The sling rocked up to the right, sending Mae’s feet precariously close to the wall before sliding down the left curve of the tunnel. Mae suddenly worried how she was supposed to stop the sling. She didn’t see a brake line or any other slowing device.
Then the ground, the entire tunnel, shook. At first, just a tremble. She wondered if it was her imagination. Then the shaking grew stronger and stronger. Something huge, something heavy, moved above them.
“That’s a matic,” Alun Madder called from somewhere down the tunnel ahead of her. “And Shard LeFel. Hurry. Hurry!”
Mae didn’t know how she could hurry any more. The tunnel walls rushed past at a dizzying pace. It felt as if the track would never end.
Rocks pelted down in dusty plumes, battering her shoulders and legs. The ceiling shook rocks and clods of dirt like a rusted sieve. It was hard to see through all the dust kicked up. Hard to breathe. For a brief, wild moment, she wondered if she should jump.
And then the tunnel exploded. The force of the concussion knocked Mae off her sling and tumbled her to the ground. Rock and dirt collapsed and filled the tunnel ahead with rubble, cutting off their route.
A huge metal hand reached down into the hole that had been punched through the tunnel ceiling. No—not a hand. It was a steam hammer, five metal pistons pounding down like great metal fingers, each attached by rods and tubes and wheels to a hunk of metal—the matic’s arm—somewhere above the ceiling.
“Back!” Alun Madder was on his feet. He threw off the sling and ran. “Turn around!”
Mae spun, a thick cloud of dirt and stone sucking all the air out of the tunnel. Rose, Cadoc, and Bryn had all been knocked out of their slings too. Bryn Madder and Rose were both running behind Alun Madder, but Cadoc stood there, calm as a prophet watching the doom come calling, while Mae ran past him.
“LeFel,” he said.
“Run, run!” Rose Small pushed past Bryn, pushed past Alun.
The floor lifted, held there for what felt like an eternity, then fell. Hard.
Rose Small, ahead of them, lifted, fell. Mae was battered to the ground. She landed on her hands and knees as all the world broke apart. A five-fingered wall of iron sheered the sky from the earth.
There was too much noise: the thunderous pounding of iron and steam, the pulverizing of rock and dirt, the Madder brothers cursing up a blue streak.
And Rose Small, screaming.
Mae scrabbled up out of the dirt that threatened to bury her, swimming free, digging free, up and up toward air. She broke out just as the Madder brothers pulled up through the hole where the ceiling had been.
“Rose, Rose!” Mae called. She blinked away the ligh
t—too much moonlight and firelight after the soft underground lanterns. And finally her vision fell to focus.
Rose Small stood in front of the giant matic that was nearly as tall as a house. The hammer contraption that had busted apart the tunnel was retracting slowly, folding like an elbow alongside the main body of the device.
High above, perched in the matic on his throne, was Mr. Shard LeFel, his gloved fingertips holding brass levers as if they were reins. Mr. Shunt, too tall, too thin, a shadow with bloody eyes, stood in front of the matic, pressing a knife to Rose Small’s throat.
“Give me the witch,” Shard LeFel said, his voice carrying over the chug and hiss of the matic’s engine, “or Mr. Shunt will rip this girl apart.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Cedar fought instinct that told him to run, far from the flames, from the mob, from the matic that rumbled over the ground toward Mae Lindson’s house.
But where there was a matic, Mr. Shard LeFel would not be far behind, and neither would Mr. Shunt.
Cedar intended to put a final end to that monster.
He paused in the stand of trees, watching the mob. There were too many people, too many guns, too many torches, between him and the matic. He growled, low and unheard over the heat of the fire, the heat of the men shouting. The tuning fork against his chest rang out with a single sour note even though he stood perfectly still. The Strange who had taken Elbert was near. Near enough to kill.
Inside that matic was his foe, his enemy, his prey. Two beating hearts waiting to be ripped free of the sinew that held them, two spines to break, two skulls to crush. Mr. Shunt, and Mr. Shard LeFel.
Cedar crept low and growled softly again. The mob swarmed closer to the house, yelling. His ears pricked up. Faintly over the yelling of the crowd, he heard the back door slam shut.
Mae. Mae trying to run free. Mae trying to escape. His heart beat faster as the thoughts of a man overrode the beast’s need to kill. Mae had been in that house. He’d told her to stay until he returned. They would trap her. Kill her.
A blaze of flame shot up the side of the house, wood catching fire beneath torches and quickly turning into an inferno.
Cedar Hunt rushed silently through the cover of underbrush, the cover of shadow, the tuning fork screaming a bitter song.
Mae couldn’t die. He couldn’t let her die. Couldn’t bear her death. He ran a wide berth to get behind the house to the door he had heard slam. The wind heaved with smoke, fouling Cedar’s sense of smell.
She couldn’t survive that fire. He’d told her to stay. She would be burned alive.
Wolf instinct yelled: Run. Every nerve pumped hot with panic, powering his muscles to bunch and push. Faster. Faster.
Cedar pressed his ears down against his head and bared his teeth as he ran across the field. The wound in his side split open, poured with new pain. Almost there. Almost there to save Mae.
The heat from the fire grew stronger and stronger with every step he took. The light ruined his vision.
He leaped through the open back door and into a blistering hell.
Fire roared, chewing away the walls, snapping the wooden whimsies, burning them to ash, destroying the chairs, the floor, the walls, the ceiling, with white-hot liquid heat. Cedar crouched, eyes slit, and pushed into the living room. Searching for Mae.
Smoke burned his eyes; embers singed his fur. His skin charred. He could not find her. Could not find Mae.
There might be a nook or corner where she hid, but there was too much fire. He could not endure.
Run, run, run, the beast howled.
And Cedar Hunt could not hold against that instinct any longer.
He ran from the house. Out into the night. Ran until his lungs filled with air instead of smoke. Ran until the cool winds cleaned his eyes and soothed his flesh.
He had to believe Mae had found her way out. He had to believe she had left the house earlier in the day; had to believe she had tired of waiting for him and gone hunting. Had to believe that the door slamming was just a trick of the wind.
But he didn’t. Not in these lands where nightmares spread roots and sucked away all hope, all life.
The mob broke up, chose which men would stay and see to it that the house burned to the ground. Just then the matic suddenly huffed louder, and rumbled away from the gathering, out into the field.
Cedar knew where the matic would go. Back to the rail.
And that was where he would kill.
Cedar Hunt raised his voice, sorrow and anger howling against the night sky.
He took a step, and the pain from the wound in his side bloomed hot through him. It was bleeding again, bleeding still, worse than it had been. He didn’t care. There was no time to stop. No time to feel pain. He ran, first just a lope, then a ground-eating run. To the rail. To death.
Mae Lindson couldn’t get to the shotgun on the ground next to her and charge it in time to shoot Mr. Shunt. Rose Small didn’t look so much frightened in Mr. Shunt’s grip as just angry. That Rose was keeping her head about her was one thing good to their advantage. Unfortunately, Mae couldn’t think of many more.
“Your end is come, Shard LeFel,” Alun Madder said, his voice low, but commanding. “We have played this game to its finish. And just as you were banished to walk this land, you will die in this mortal land. Enough of your hollow threats. If we had the mind to, we’d shoot you now.”
“And lose the Holder?” Shard LeFel smiled. “How would the order of the king’s guard reward you when they find that you have let a weapon of that magnitude slip through your fingers?”
“You underestimate the guard’s resources,” Alun Madder said. “We’ll find the Holder, whether or not you’re breathing.”
“Or you’ll find pieces of it.”
Alun’s head jerked up.
Shard LeFel smiled. “If you kill me, the Holder will explode like glass under a hammer. And every piece will be loose in the land. Even one fragment of the Holder will destroy cities, kill hundreds, thousands, in most unusual and painful ways.” He smiled again. “You will not shoot me. But I have no such qualms about this girl. Mr. Shunt, make her bleed.”
Mr. Shunt raised the knife to her face.
“No!” Mae stepped forward. “Don’t hurt her. I’ll come with you. Let Rose go.”
“Mrs. Lindson,” Alun said, his voice tight, his eyes on Shard LeFel. “Don’t do what this dog says. We’ll find a way to save Miss Small.”
“Not before he has that monster cut her apart,” Mae said. “No, I’m going with him.”
Alun Madder took a step forward and extended his hand to her. They shook and he said, “I only wish you’d take a minute when you need it the most. Think things through.”
“I have thought this through,” she said.
“Then that might just save us all. Good luck to you.” Alun Madder searched her face, finding, she knew, her determination. Mr. LeFel might know she was a witch. But he most certainly did not know she was a witch like no other. Vows and curses came to her as easy as drawing a breath. And Mae didn’t need any weapon greater than that.
Alun stepped away and Mae realized he had pressed a pocket watch into her palm. It was warm, as if an ember lay coiled within it. No, not an ember—glim. She had seen glim once, from a man who tried to sell just a drop of it to her when she and Jeb were traveling out this way. She would know the feel of it anywhere.
She had no idea how a pocketful of glim would do her any good, though it was said the glim could give strength to anything it was set upon. She tucked the watch away in her coat, and turned back to face Mr. Shard LeFel.
“Let Rose Small go.” Mae took a few good-faith steps toward the matic, then stopped, waiting.
Mr. Shard LeFel worked the levers in the monstrous metal beast. “Yes, of course. Let us make good on our promise, Mr. Shunt. Let the girl go.”
Mr. Shunt pushed Rose so hard she flew several feet before landing on the ground.
And just as quickly, Mr. Shunt suddenly ap
peared in front of Mae.
She sucked in a gasp. Before she could exhale, he had cut the straps of her satchels and packs. They dropped in a thump to the ground. He wrapped at least two arms around her, another clutched to the brim of his hat.
And then the world became a blur. Ground sped by, the side of the matic pulled up beneath her as Mr. Shunt scaled it nimbly as a spider climbing a wall.
Once over the edge of the cab, Mae was shoved, facedown, and pressed into the leather cushions behind Shard LeFel’s throne. Mr. Shunt pressed his knee in her back with a punishing weight.
She couldn’t move if she wanted to. Steam pounded the air and jolted the matic into action.
Facedown with Mr. Shunt’s wide, hard hand clamped against the back of her head and his knee digging at her spine, Mae could still tell the matic moved faster than anything she’d ever known, faster than trains or ships.
And she had no idea where they were taking her.
Rose Small hurt from her bonnet to her boots. More than feeling bruised and scraped, she was angry. She pushed up and staggered to her feet, but it was too late. The matic thundered off over the field faster than a racehorse on Sunday.
“Stop!” she yelled, which did absolutely no good.
“They can’t hear you,” Alun Madder mused. “All those gears and steam deafen.” He tapped at one ear for good measure.
Rose turned on the Madder brothers. She knew she shouldn’t, but she had so much anger boiling up inside of her, she thought she’d about go insane from the noise of it. “You should have stopped him! How can you just let that, that Shard LeFel take Mae? He’s going to kill her!”
Bryn Madder was down in the collapsed tunnel, handing up packs, gear, and a crate or two. Alun and Cadoc took each load from him, spreading the barrels and crates out, then digging in their packs. They were paying no attention to her.
“You promised me you’d help me save Mae,” Rose said. “Help me get her out of town and out of harm’s way. Have you always been liars, Mr. Madder, or were you saving it all up for today?”