Ironshield

by Edward Nile

  James broke the hug and raised an eyebrow at Ivan.

  The older man shrugged. "Believe it or not, he's been better about that crap lately. Can't blame him for slipping back into the crazy, seeing you show up."

  James nodded. "Where'd you find him?"

  "Na’Tet found Holy Ivan and the others," the tribesman said. "After he crawled from the ashes, he fled into the wilds and wandered for many days. Holy Ivan and the other white men had made camp in an old K’Tani hunting ground." Na’Tet felt along his neck. "This one nearly paid a dear price for sneaking up on the camp."

  "It was a good thing I recognized him," Ivan added. "Everybody was on edge. We were sure the Appeasers would have a hunting party scouring the area for stragglers. Turns out they were more interested in securing what they could salvage of our fuel caches and ironworks." He spat. "Vulturous curs. For all their high talk of morals and codes, they didn't even wait for their victims' bodies to go cold before picking away at everything we'd built."

  James nodded. He needed to change the subject. The thought of Southerners looting Quarrystone within eyesight of women and children killed by Samuel Mutton made his blood boil. It was a familiar rage, now, one that plagued his every vacant hour, haunting his nights with red-tinted visions of vengeful murder.

  "So," he said instead. "All this, these machines, what are they for?" James asked.

  "For when we need them," Tessa said, coming up on James' other side, still not looking him in the eye. "For when war breaks out again, and our country finds itself defenseless. For when it comes time for the Industrialists to rise again."

  How are you alive? was the question James burned to ask. However, something told him Tessa wouldn't be as forthcoming as Na’Tet. When she did look at James, it was with that same calculating expression, like he was an oddly shaped piece she was trying to fit into the puzzle of her life. Was she still upset with him, after all this time? The Kolms family were known for their hot tempers, and Tessa had been crushed when James refused her advance. No, this was something else.

  She's got plenty of reasons to hate you, he told himself. Pick one. The fact Tessa was alive at all was a miracle. James could only imagine what she'd have had to go through to survive what Redstripe did. Of course, she wouldn't have had to endure any of it had James only made it back in time. And none of it would have happened at all had James not done what he did at the first battle of Graytop. Just as Matthew had feared, he'd poked the beast.

  "What do you think, Jim?" Ivan put an arm over James' shoulders. "It's a far cry from Quarrystone, but it's a start."

  "I think…" The words 'stupid' and 'suicidal' came to mind. He couldn't say it, not with Tessa's eyes on him. Theodore Kolms was still in prison, because of James. Another item on the list. "I don't know what to think, Ivan. Didn't know what I expected to find tonight, but this wasn't it." With Tessa Kolms and Na’Tet right here, breathing in the same room as him, that was more than an understatement.

  "Well, what were you after?" Ivan asked, slipping his arm away to regard James. "We're glad as hell to see you boy, but that was dangerous, what you pulled. Could have just as easily shot you without realizing our mistake."

  "My saber," James said, his jaw tightening. "My father's sword. Your people took it from me."

  "I'm sorry, Commander," Roy said. "Didn't know it was you in the dark—"

  "So you would have been fine robbing a stranger. I see," James interjected. "Glad we've got that cleared up. I'll need it back, now."

  Ivan looked perplexed. "That can't really be all you came for, Jim. I mean you, being here. The Ironshield himself back among his own. This is big. It's a sign our luck's swinging for the better. You've got to see that."

  James breathed out. "What I see are a bunch of people looking to resurrect what's dead and gone," he said. "The war ended, we lost. With peacetime as it's been, no one's going to want more blood. We shouldn't want more blood."

  "Matthew, you've lost weight," said Tessa, her arms crossed as she looked James up and down. "Did that two-face send you here to try and discourage us, Edstein?"

  "Like I said, I'm here for my sword," James reiterated. "Matt didn't want me going anywhere near you, but I need to get back what's mine."

  Ivan shook his head. "Jim, I know things went bad, but you can't give up on the fight. Mutton's been shown for the bastard he is. Folk are taking to the streets. Revolution is in the air. A second chance for Arkenian independence. Real independence, the return of everything we've lost."

  "And the fucker knows it, too," Roy chimed in. "Appeaser fuck's been sending his own little task forces out to find us. Hell, Tess just barely escaped not too—"

  "Shut your mouth, Roy," Tessa snapped.

  The silence that followed was heavy, tense with unspoken feelings. Roy hung his head, and James could tell from the expressions of Ivan and others that whatever he'd referred to had cost them dear.

  "I don't care." It was the first thing James had said that felt truly honest. He felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him. As word had spread among the rebel mechanics about who he was, they'd all stopped what they were doing to stare and whisper. Now, the huge room was silent. Silent, and watching James.

  "Well, you heard him, Uncle." Tessa uncrossed her arms and walked away. "Let's give the boy his stick and send him on his way." She disappeared through a door on the left.

  James avoided meeting Ivan's gaze. He'd said what he felt, but he knew by the instant change in mood it was the wrong thing. Unsure how to balm the wound, or whether he should even try, he shifted his feet and studied one of the machines.

  "Jim?"

  "I thought she was dead, Ivan," he said. "God, I thought you were dead. 'Tet, too." The tribesman's crestfallen gaze was the hardest one to handle, more painful than the anger and outrage that radiated from the others. "But she was different. I saw Ironshield get taken out. That piece of shit Mutton fired straight into the cockpit, with her inside. How the hell did she survive?"

  Ivan sighed. "That's Tess's story. For her to tell, when she's ready." There was an unspoken but clear if, there. "For what it's worth, you're welcome to come here whenever you want, so long as you're not followed. If you change your mind, we'll be waiting. So will she."

  "Doubt it," James muttered. The others had for the most part gone back to their work, sensing a private conversation. Except for Na’Tet, who sat cross legged, eyes closed, his ridiculous scrap metal figure clutched to his chest as he muttered quiet prayers. "I should have been there sooner," James continued. "It should have been me in that Warsuit."

  "No one blames you for that," Ivan interjected. "Not even Tess. Honestly, we're just as surprised to see you as you are to see us. Figured you were dead or 'vanished,' like Clint Kaizer. Did Matt say anything about his father, on that note? Has he turned up since?"

  James shook his head. Clint Kaizer had gone missing shortly before the end of the Xang ceasefire, when the Appeasers first signed the disarmament deal. Some were convinced he'd been captured by the South, a pre-emptive move in anticipation of Industrialist pushback. Others believed his disappearance was orchestrated by Xang.

  Still others, who knew the elder Kaizer best, speculated that a war pitting his creations against his own countrymen was too much for the man's conscience to bear. Clint shared his son's distaste for warfare, no doubt a result of seeing what a Warsuit could do to a man. The bloody streak that had given Redstripe its name had arguably been a catalyst for the shift in the master mechanic's sensibilities.

  Knowing where Matt stood, James couldn't see Clint Kaizer abandoning his son, if that were the case. Unless that's another thing Matt's not telling you, James told himself. He tried to hide this. Fuck, he didn't even tell you Tessa was alive. Would you really put it past him to lie about his father, too?

  Tessa re-emerged, carrying a long cloth-wrapped object James recognized as his saber.

  "Here you go." She tossed it at James.

  He caught the sword. The weight felt rig
ht, and the cloth was the same ratty blanket he'd used to cover it in the first place, but he had to be sure.

  "Don't worry, I wouldn't switch it out on you," Tessa said with a condescending sniff as James inspected the hilt. "We've got no use for a coward's blade here."

  "Tess, watch your mouth," Ivan warned.

  "Spare me." She turned on her heel and stormed to one of the Warsuits. "Come on, 'Tet, you can help me test the new regulators."

  Na’Tet looked from her to James and back. Reluctantly, he put his scrap figure in his robes and followed Tessa, giving James a low bow as he did.

  James responded with an awkward wave.

  "Alright, Jim," Ivan said. "We've got work to do. Derrick had a friend I've got to wake up and tell the news to, but I can take you home first. The hotel, right?"

  Matthew Kaizer was waiting outside the hotel, leaning against the back of his automobile.

  "Here's your man, safe and sound," Ivan said as he and James climbed out to greet Matthew.

  "My man, really?" Matthew's glance took in the wrapped saber James carried. "I don't know about that."

  "Can't blame him for wanting his property back," Ivan said.

  "Maybe not, but I can blame you for stealing it, and causing trouble in my town. I can't keep helping you people if this continues, Ivan. I'm taking risks enough as it is." Matthew looked around. The street was dark and quiet. It was too late, even for the barflies. He leaned forward to continue. "All it takes is one of your group getting caught with the identification papers I provided, and next thing I know there'll be a raid on my factory."

  "My group?" Ivan repeated. "And here I thought we all stood for the same thing, difference of methods aside. Otherwise why don't you lot just sign the Surrender Pacts and be done with it? Fuck, rat us out to the state while you're at it, even you might avoid prison time."

  "That's the problem with you, Kolms, with all of you. It's all one way or all the other. Well I can stand by my decision and stick to my principles without wanting to kill anyone over them and so can my workers. The war is over."

  "Not until every one of us is dead it's not," Ivan growled. "If everyone else gets shot down and I'm left standing by myself, the war's still on, Kaizer. If I die and my brother's all that's left, punching guards in prison, the war's still on. Do you understand?"

  Matthew ground his teeth. "No more favors," he said. "I'm finished risking good men's freedom so you and your zealots can play war games in your bunker. Now get away from my hotel before someone marks you. I've got words to exchange with my friend."

  "Thought we were friends, Matthew." Ivan shook his head. "You take care, Jim. Remember what I said. Anytime. Sorry about how things went."

  "Don't sweat it." James clasped hands with Ivan.

  He and Matthew watched Ivan Kolms drive off. James let out a steaming breath as the vehicle turned a corner out of sight. He kicked at a bit of broken glass. "I should have told you I was going after it. How'd you know?"

  "Gus mentioned you'd been going out at night," Matthew replied. "And what you should have done was listen to me. I told you to let it go."

  "What am I, your ward? I don't need your permission to get my belongings back." James was bruised, tired, and running out of patience. Everyone here wanted to push or pull him in some direction or other.

  "You do need it when you're jeopardizing everything I've built!" Matthew shouted. He continued in a lower, but equally furious tone. "When it risks the lives of my men, all so you can get back a useless trinket."

  "Just because you're fine with sweeping your dad under the rug doesn't mean I am—"

  Something hit James square in the jaw, and once more he found himself on his back, splotches of color dancing across his vision.

  Matthew shook out his hand. "Never bring up my father again, James," he said. "You've got one week here. After that, you're on your own. Got no rooms to spare for a walking liability like you."

  A car door slammed shut. Tires crunched over frosted dirt as Matthew drove away.

  James stayed where he lay for a long time, looking up at the stars. He wondered if Heinrich Edstein could see him now.

  Chapter 21

  Aldren spent the rest of the trip in his cabin, for the most part, only venturing out every so often to grab bread and thin soup from what passed for an on-board commissary. The simple fare was marked up in price, depleting a good chunk of what cash Aldren had brought on board, but he wasn't going to risk any of his usual tricks while floating in the middle of the ocean. There would be nowhere to run to if he got caught pickpocketing, and he was a terrible swimmer.

  Then, there was the woman to consider. Aldren didn't know if she waited for him, or if she just had a way of knowing when he left his room, but somehow the easterner was always nearby, always watching him with that mischievous smirk. Aldren wasn't due to meet his contact until he landed in Xang, and his route was kept a secret to make sure no one tampered with the results of his report.

  Yet, there was this woman, and she somehow knew who Aldren was.

  No, better to play things safe.

  Aldren had always been a light sleeper, but even when his seasickness abated, he found he could hardly get any rest at all. Every time he started to close his eyes, he thought he heard footsteps creeping toward his door, the squeak of its latch turning.

  The ship lurched around Aldren. He sprang up, punch dagger in hand.

  People were talking out in the hall, dozens of voices clambering over one another along with the thuds of hurried feet.

  Sunlight streamed in through the porthole of Aldren's room. Bells chimed. The ship was docking.

  His head throbbed as he got up, and his stomach, while mostly settled, churned uncomfortably. Aldren shambled his way to the room's rust-streaked sink and washed the taste of sour vomit from his mouth, splashing cool water over his face and hair.

  He traveled light as it was and, having been confined to his cot for much of the journey, had left his rucksack mostly packed. Aldren was in his coat with the bag slung over his shoulder within a minute.

  Hoping to get clear of the boat and meet his contact without being tailed, Aldren joined the tired throng making their way down the ship's corridor. He regretted the coat the moment he stepped on deck.

  Within the confines of the dark, cool ship, he hadn't noticed what had to have been a gradual change in climates along the eastward journey. The air here could only be described as thick, a muggy, oppressive atmosphere that had Aldren's shirt soaked in sweat within minutes. He guzzled water from his canteen, the waterskin the woman had given him sitting empty in his bag. The other Arkenians pressed around him didn't seem to be faring much better.

  Dark water lapped against the ship's prow as it made its steady path toward the striated landmass of the Xangese coast. Sunlight glared off red tile roofs that snaked their way along roads cut in a zig-zagging pattern along the gradually sloping hill.

  Further up, beyond the smog choking the eastern horizon, Xang sported an active volcano whose ash fed the lush green vegetation where it was allowed to sprout between stone blocks. For all the tropical heat and strange plant life Aldren saw, his first impression of this new country was astoundingly familiar, a city choked with structures, its streets packed with pedestrians and vehicles. Most were horse or ox-driven carts and carriages, though a few Xangese steam cars chugged their way through the dense traffic, adding their mist to the thick, humid air. The east was better supplied with coal than it was with diesel. That was changing, since the end of the war and the opening of trade between Arkenia and Xang.

  The ship let off a last burst of black smoke from its tall exhaust pipes as it came to a halt alongside a wide dock, the rumble of its engine dying down. The ubiquitous shaking, which Aldren had grown used to over the past few days to the point of not noticing, faded. Despite the packed travelers, everything on deck was abruptly too quiet, too still.

  The gangplank was affixed to the dock by a crew below, and Aldren allowed himse
lf to be swept along with the press of bodies vacating the ship. He looked about as he went, but still saw no sign of his stalker. That she was keeping tabs on him was clear, but who went up to the target they were tailing, gave them a drink, and addressed them by name?

  As Aldren descended the gangplank, he looked off to the side. A red-sailed fishing boat with a bamboo mast bobbed in the rippling water, its occupants straining to pull a thrashing fish up via iron hooks. The thing was over fifteen feet long. Its scales reflected the sunlight, vibrant purples and reds shifting shades between stripes of black. Long, multi-hued fins trailed as it pulled against the fishermen's hooks.

  Four red eyes, two on either side of its head, stared unblinking. Large fanged jaws snapped ineffectually at the steel ropes pulling the thrashing creature toward the vessel.

  It was unlike any animal Aldren had ever seen.

  "Keep moving!"

  Aldren was pushed forward and resumed his descent with the other travelers, already feeling like he'd entered an alien world.

  Feel like I'm in the devil's nutsack, he thought, blinking sweat away as it streamed from beneath his sweltering cap. His nose wrinkled. Smells like it, too.

  The human tide continued to stream from the ship, their collective shoes hammering on the wooden dock as the mass moved for the harbor, where carriages and bicycle operated rickshaws waited with signs in Xangese, clumsily scrawled Arkenian, Eishian, and other languages Aldren didn't recognize.

  The smell of this place was almost as hard to acclimatize to as the heat. Human sweat, salt water, fish, all with the sharp tang of varied spices added in. Combined, it was enough to make Aldren's eyes water. The rest of him dripped enough as it was, and even after he pulled off his coat, everything stuck to everything else, his shirt a soggy film clinging to his skin.