Killing the Machine (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 2)

by Jamie Sedgwick

  “What are you doing?” River said. “Why don’t you just outrun them?”

  “Because that ship is faster than ours, and when our fuel runs out, they’ll blow us right out of the sky. I have a different idea. I’m going to swoop down on her from above. I need you two to disable their balloon.”

  “How?” said Kale.

  Rowena stared at him. “I don’t care how! Just do it!”

  River caught him by the arm. “Bring your swords,” she said, lurching toward the rope ladder. “You have to cut it open.”

  Kale had set his swords aside when they returned to the ship. He snatched them up and buckled the baldric around his chest. By the time he was done, River had the rope ladder ready for him.

  “I’d go with you, but I don’t think I can stand down there,” River said.

  Kale grinned, and gave her a wink. “Don’t worry about me, gorgeous. I’ll be right back.”

  “Careful, the captain might hear you.”

  Kale glanced over her shoulder at Rowena. “We’re just friends,” he said with a wry smile.

  “Sure you are. Get moving.”

  The morning sun crested the mountains as Kale crawled over the rail. The snow-covered land glistened with blinding whiteness beneath him, and the wind blasted him with icy bursts that sent shivers down his spine and made his knuckles ache from the cold. The rope ladder swayed to and fro erratically. Rowena’s steering modifications had dramatically improved the Lady Fair’s responsiveness, but unfortunately, the sudden changes in direction had also left the tender car swaying on the ropes below like a willow in a hurricane.

  When Kale reached the bottom of the ladder, he found that both the boxcar and the rope ladder were in constant movement, and those movements didn’t match. He couldn’t simply drop onto the car, because a fraction of a second later, it might not be there. Kale carefully lowered one foot to the roof of the car. The moment his boot touched metal, the rope pulled one way and the boxcar another, and Kale went spinning like a top.

  He gripped the ladder for dear life, closed his eyes, and held on tight as the world spun dizzyingly around him. Kale felt the rope ladder twisting tight, growing shorter as it ran out of inertia. At last, it stopped… and then began to unwind.

  The unwinding wasn’t as fast as the windup, but that made the experience no more pleasant. By the time the ladder had finished, Kale was green around the gills and seeing spots in his vision. His stomach lurched unpleasantly, which was an altogether unusual sensation for the warrior. Kale usually had a stomach of iron, and nothing short of rotten food had ever caused him the slightest upset.

  “Kale!” River shouted. He glanced up at her, and the world seemed to spin.

  River pointed, and Kale realized that the Lady Fair had already circled around behind the Vangar ship. They were closing on it fast. He glanced down at the boxcar with a grimace. There was no point trying to touch down lightly; that had been a mistake. Kale’s only choice was to leap from the ladder and hope for a soft landing. In theory, this sounded like a simple enough proposition, but in reality the erratic movement of the ladder as it swung to and fro over the boxcar made the task nearly impossible. Every time the warrior thought he was ready to leap, the ladder swung one way and the boxcar another, leaving him poised for a two thousand foot drop straight to the mountainside.

  “Hurry!” River shouted up above him. “We’re almost there!”

  Kale held his breath. He watched the movement of the car below, counted out the seconds as he tried to time its movement with the swinging of the ladder. When the timing seemed right, Kale kicked away from the ladder and released his grip. At that exact moment, a gust of wind buffeted the ship, and the boxcar bucked wildly to the side.

  Kale’s blood froze as he saw the roof of the tender car slipping away, and the snow-covered treetops filled his vision.

  Chapter 17

  Kale was certain he’d just made his last stupid mistake. He threw his arm out in a desperate attempt to catch the ladder, but it was already well out of reach. The boxcar jerked off to the side and rebounded like a ball on a string. Just as it seemed his fate was sealed, the tender car lurched back around and slammed into Kale with enough force to drive the breath out of his lungs. The warrior had just enough presence of mind to latch onto the metal ladder at the front of the car before it swung away again.

  The steel wall vibrated against his skin like a tuning fork. His legs dangled out beneath him in the open air. He kicked frantically, pulling himself up from one rung to the next, until he finally managed to get one boot on the bottom rung. No sooner had he reached safety, than Kale saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and realized that he was out of time. The Vangar air balloon was only yards away.

  The warrior lowered himself on the bottom rung and drew his sword. As he settled into position, a gust of wind caught the Vangar ship and lifted the vessel toward straight up to meet him. Before Kale could strike, the upper edge of the Vangar balloon struck the outside corner of the tender car. The ropes went slack and the front corner of the boxcar lifted with a groaning sound. Kale’s feet went out from under him. He found himself dangling from the bottom rung by one hand, the other still clutching his sword.

  Crashing sounds echoed around inside the boxcar as it jolted back and forth wildly. The Vangar airship tried to pull away, but the balloon was caught, and the ropes that held the car groaned under the extra weight. Kale took a halfhearted swipe at the balloon, but it was still out of reach. As he moved, his hand slipped on the steel rail and the warrior felt his grip loosening.

  Kale was stuck, unable to sheath his sword because he couldn’t reach the scabbard on his back, and unable to climb back up the ladder with one hand still grasping the handle. It became clear to him that in order to get back to safety, he would have to drop his sword. Unfortunately, this was an emotional struggle. Kale had acquired his broadswords off the body of a Vangar warrior he had slain, and wearing them had become a matter of pride.

  The Vangars were large, often exceeding eight feet in height. There were very few men in Astatia who could have managed even one of those swords, much less two. Kale had worked hard to make his skill with the weapons appear effortless. The thought of dropping one of them and losing it forever on that snowy mountainside almost brought a tear to his eye.

  Kale heard shouting, and looked down to see the Vangar crewmen loading their flintlocks. “Devils,” he muttered under his breath. With a frustrated snarl, the warrior released his sword. The weapon tumbled through the sky, flashing in the sunlight until it hit the deep snow and vanished in a field of white.

  Kale swung around, bringing his free hand up, and latched onto the bottom rung. He inched upward, reaching for the next rung. As he moved, one of the Vangars fired, and the musket ball sparked off the corner of the tender car. Kale’s eyes widened. If that shot had penetrated the floor of the car, it very easily could have hit the vat of starfall.

  Kale pulled himself back onto the ladder and caught his breath, waiting for another opportunity. As the Vangar ship continued its rise, the Lady Fair pulled to starboard. The boxcar swung out, and the outer perimeter of the Vangar balloon suddenly came within reach. Kale drew his remaining sword and slashed at the black fabric. The material split instantly, and a fiery blast of hot air struck him in the face. Kale turned away, wincing as the blistering inferno washed over his skin, the fumes burning his eyes and nostrils. He squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, fighting his instinctive reaction to let go of the ladder. His legs went out from under him for a second time, and Kale found himself dangling free from the boxcar. He could smell burning hair, and felt the sensation of molten iron pouring down his back. The warrior clenched his teeth, swallowing an involuntary cry that threatened to erupt from his chest.

  There was a roaring sound beneath him, followed by a crash that sounded like breaking boards. A moment later, a cool breeze washed over his skin. Kale opened his eyes and saw the Vangar airship careening towards the mounta
ins below, shreds of fabric billowing out behind. Flames licked up from the balloon. As it fell, the main mast twisted to the side and went crashing through the sails. Up above, a cheer went up on the deck of the Lady Fair.

  Kale grinned. Then his smile vanished as he realized he couldn’t sheath his sword. Once again, he was stuck hanging from the ladder with no way to pull himself back up. Kale held on for as long as he could, unwilling to lose his remaining prized weapon, until his fingers began to tingle and his arm started to go numb. Still, he held onto the hope that someone from the ship would appear and help him up. He threw his head back, squinting against the sunlight.

  “River?” he said. “Rowena?” And in his final desperation: “Micah?”

  Kale felt his grip slipping, and the cry that he’d managed to suffocate in the heat of the air blast finally broke free. He moaned, a sad, desperate sound as he released the grip and watched it tumble through the air, glinting under the morning sun. Kale sighed as the shimmering blade finally disappeared in the snowdrifts below.

  Ten minutes later, the crew of the Lady Fair cheered as Kale climbed back onto the deck. Despite the success of his mission, in Kale’s mind it had been an absolute disaster. He was exhausted. His bones ached, his upper body felt like it had been dipped in boiling oil. His hand was still cramping. Worse than all that, his Vangar swords were gone forever… then he noticed that his hair was singed, too. This was no small matter, considering the fact that his sexual prowess was directly related to his thick gorgeous mane. What would River think?

  However, when Kale heard the cheers and saw the smiling faces of his companions, he forgot all of that. He stood upright, stuck out his well-muscled chest and pounded his fist into the air. They shouted triumphantly. Rowena appeared, and threw her arms around him. Kale bent forward to kiss her. The captain’s dark skin felt cool against his burns, but her mouth was hot and inviting. She melted into him. For a moment, Kale forgot where he was. In his mind, he was the returning hero, the general of a great army, the slayer of a thousand foes…

  After a few seconds, he looked over the heads of the crew to see River staring at him, her arms folded across her chest. Pirate was perched on her shoulder, scowling. He licked his lips, and his smile faltered.

  “Where are your swords?” said a voice behind him. Kale turned to see Micah looking up at him. “Why is your skin all red?”

  “Don’t ask,” Kale grunted. River brushed past him as she headed for the bow of the ship, and Kale let out a yelp. She glanced over her shoulder with an evil grin. Micah hurried after her, and Kale followed a moment later with Rowena at his side. They all stood at the bow, looking down at the ruins of the Vangar ship.

  “I’m half-tempted to go back and finish them off,” River said, gazing at the burning wreckage.

  “I’m game,” Kale said. “I could use a new pair of swords.”

  “What an incredible view,” Micah said. River glanced at him and saw that the halfling was leaning up against the handrail with ink-stained hands, staring at the plains stretching out in the distance. His satchel was nowhere to be seen.

  “Are you going to sketch it?” she said.

  “No. I’ve been drawing for hours. My hands are cramped. Besides, I spilled the last of my ink all over myself. I just want a good smoke, and a good rest. When will we be back to the train?”

  “It shouldn’t be long,” said Rowena. “In fact, we should be able to see it once we come around this last mountain. Here, try my spyglass.”

  She handed it to Micah. Sure enough, way out in the center of the valley, he could see the railroad tracks cutting a sharp line across the earth. The trees waved in the background, the wild grain rolled like golden waves across the plain. He looked back to the west, where the tracks disappeared into the sea, and saw a handful of fishing boats out on the water. He drew his gaze back to the east and frowned. He put the spyglass down, squinting into the distance. This was no better, so he put the instrument back to his eye.

  “River?” Micah said. “Where is the train supposed to be, exactly?”

  “What are you talking about? It’s less than a mile from shore.”

  Micah handed her the spyglass. River did a double take and then leaned against the rail, frowning.

  “What did I tell Vann?” she said, glancing at Kale. “Twenty-four hours, right?”

  “You told him if we weren’t back in twenty-four hours that he should go on to New Boston,” Kale confirmed.

  “But we still have four hours,” River said, glancing at the sun. She put the scope back to her eye. In the distance, she saw one lone boxcar resting on the tracks. There wasn’t a sign of life anywhere around it.

  The Iron Horse was gone.

  River’s heart sank. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the freight car, wondering what could possibly have gone wrong.

  Half an hour later, Rowena brought the ship down a few hundred yards from the railcar. She lowered the tender car gently to the ground, and then brought the Lady Fair down alongside it. River gathered her crew and set off across the field. Her ankle was still tender, but she had no difficulty walking so long as she watched her step. As far as River was concerned, if an injury wasn’t crippling, it wasn’t serious enough to slow her down.

  “Be careful,” she reminded the others as they approached the boxcar. “This could be some sort of trap.”

  She motioned for the others to spread out, and they surrounded the car with their weapons drawn. When they were in place, River nodded at Kale. He stepped forward to open the door. As he pulled on the lock, they heard rustling noises inside. The warrior shoved the door open and stood to the side, giving the others a clear shot.

  As the light fell across the floor of the darkened railcar, River saw the faces of her crew. They were dirty and bloodied, soaked with sweat. Their hands and feet had been bound, and they were leaning back against the walls or lying on the floorboards. The sudden light blinded them, and they cried out in fear that their captors had returned to finish them off. Only as their eyes adjusted did they realize that they had in fact been rescued. Kale and River leapt inside, and started cutting their bonds.

  “It’s about time,” Vann grumbled, pushing to his feet. He limped across the floor rubbing his wrists, one eye swollen shut. “A few more hours in here, and we’d all be dead.”

  The others were all in a similar condition. Shayla’s dress was torn, her cheek bruised, and her eye makeup was running down her face in unattractive black streaks. Thane was in even worse shape. Besides the bruises and scrapes, he also had a gaping cut on his left arm.

  “Who did this?” River said as she helped them climb down from the railcar.

  “It was Burk,” said Thane. “He had a group of mercenaries with him. They were all heavily armed. It looked like they had Vangar weapons.”

  “They stormed the train,” said Shayla. “We didn’t even see them coming.”

  “Burk!” said River. “What was he doing here?”

  “I didn’t see him at the camp last night,” said Kale. “He may have come back this way after he delivered the starfall to the Vangars. Did he have an airship?”

  “No, they were on foot,” said Vann.

  “He left his airship with the Vangars,” said Rowena. “It was the one that crashed.”

  River considered that. “When did all of this happen?” she said.

  “Last night,” said Thane. “Not long after you left.”

  “Burk was waiting for us to leave,” said Kale. “All along, it was his plan to steal the train.”

  “It would seem so,” said the bard.

  “And Socrates?” said River.

  They all looked at each other.

  “He must still be on the train,” said Shayla. “We didn’t see him.”

  River groaned. There was no telling what Burk might do if he found Socrates.

  “What will you do now?” Rowena said. “It seems you have a container of starfall and no train.”

  “So it does,�
�� said River. “Rowena, you have already repaid your debt to us, but would you be willing to help us find Burk?”

  “You have but to ask,” said Rowena. “After all, I did promise you his head. But I must warn you, it may be more difficult than you think. Burk is hours ahead of us.”

  “But his speed is limited to the terrain, and his only fuel is firewood,” said River. “At that speed, we should catch him before nightfall.”

  “You may not like what you find, if you do catch him.”

  “Let us worry about that,” said Kale. “I’ll take care of Burk. Permanently, this time.”

  “Very well,” said Rowena. “We’ll follow the tracks and see where they take us. In the meanwhile, see that your men are fed and rested. They will need it.”

  “Thank you,” said River.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” said Rowena. “We have a long way to go.”

  Chapter 18

  Thankfully, the wounds the crew had suffered were mostly minor. It seemed Burk had been more interested in stealing the train than anything else. After seeing to their injuries, Rowena ordered her cook to prepare a meal. The biscuits were dry and hard, and the soup was bland -the main ingredients were dried fish and onions- but River’s crew didn’t mind. After being locked in the boxcar for the better part of a day, they would have eaten boiled tree bark.

  River left them to their meal. She took Pirate to the bow of the ship, and found Micah sitting there cross-legged on the rail, with his pipe dangling from his mouth and his eyes fixed on some distant point near the horizon. Pirate leapt off her shoulder, perched himself on the rail, and started busily cleaning himself.

  “You should be resting,” River said, leaning up against the rail on her elbows.

  “As should you,” Micah said. He pulled a long draw on his pipe and blew a smoke ring that instantly dissipated on the wind. “Too much air up here,” he grumbled. “Nice view, but a terrible place to enjoy a smoke.”