“And you chose death,” Clae retorted. “You realize you went and destroyed valuable, irreplaceable equipment here.”
“But that’s how Sweepers use them!” defended the younger, hand up to cup his reddening cheek.
“Are you a Sweeper? I don’t think so,” Clae scoffed.
“They were by the depot in Avis, I saw how it worked! I’d make a better Sweeper than either of you two if that equipment wasn’t faulty!”
Laura made a strangled noise and cracked the knuckles of her other hand. The young man’s eyes widened and he backpedaled. So much for being a better, braver Sweeper.
“Look. Due to your actions, it’s likely that this infestation will take over the entirety of this train.” When the younger opened his mouth to protest, Clae cut him off. “You stole highly specialized weapons without knowing how they work and broke them. We don’t have backups available to fix what you’ve done—our other Eggs are either destroyed or miles behind us by now. I have bullets that can delay it, but we can’t destroy the infestation without them.”
“So what, we jump off the train?” asked Laura.
“We’re not abandoning the train.”
“But we have to,” said the man.
“You said there were Sweepers in Avis. Did they send something in this train?” asked Clae.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean did they load something meant for another Sweeper gathering?”
“They were working,” the younger muttered sullenly.
“But did they send anything?”
The man hesitated. “They had us load a crate. Why?”
“If we’re lucky, they sent some equipment. Maybe an Egg.”
“That’s what can kill that thing?”
“Yes.”
Clae let go, and the man moved off toward a pile of crates.
“It’s over here. Come on, brat, help me get it out.”
A horrible shriek caught Laura’s attention. The creature had heaved its body to the door, but there it caught the light of the lantern. Even if they had no ERA guard, the train must’ve been wired to prevent infestations; the lantern on that car guttered brighter, bluer, and the infestation smoked as if burned. It retreated again, but continued lashing out. Thirty ropelike limbs swung through the door, crashing and rending the balcony area. Wood panels splintered. The rail bent easily as fabric under a single blow. The light flickered. The rest of the world was still horribly dark, stars covered by clouds now; once it disabled the lamps it would move fast.
The baggage handlers were by the luggage, trying to move crates. Clae helped them unearth a large crate with PUER SWEEPERS GUILD emblazoned in red lettering on the top and sides. The man dug out a couple of crowbars and they set to work ripping off the lid. It didn’t take much time. The lid came off with a groan, revealing checkered blankets inside. Clae reached in and rummaged around, flipping the blanket away.
“This looks too big for Eggs,” said Laura.
“It’s not Eggs at all.” Clae leaned back and looked at her. “It’s a gun.”
Laura moved closer and peered in. That was a gun. A machine gun. Laura had seen some in films but never in reality. For all she knew, not even the Amicae military had one.
“You can’t be serious.”
Clae pulled out a few papers from the side of the box and looked over them quickly.
“It’s a prototype kin weapon. Works like my guns, just longer range, more power, faster.”
“Do you know how to work it?”
“What do I look like, a soldier?”
“I’ve got this,” the man butted in. “I was in the army back home.”
“You used a machine gun?” asked Laura.
“Not officially, but my buddy showed me how. I can make it work.”
“Good.” Clae looked at the door. “Here’s the plan. This gun shoots kin bullets…” (“Whatever the hell that is,” the younger man grumbled.) “… so it’ll drive the infestation back. Force it as far as you can. Laura, you and I are going forward.”
“To get the attendant?”
“To get to the infestation. We’re going to use the Gin like an Egg.”
Laura had no idea how that was supposed to work, but the baggage handlers had heaved the gun out of the box and were setting it up.
“Come on, we’re going onto the back. And you, shoot through the doorway, not at us.”
“Got it.”
Clae picked up the discarded carpetbag. This in hand, they went back onto the platform and stayed as far from the door as possible. The monster was barely feet from them, still railing at a doorway too mauled to be recognizable. Its next swipe wrenched a chunk of the frame back with it, and the light went out. For a split second Laura’s heart stopped and she was sure it was loose, but there was a crack to her left and the lamps of their own car flared to life. The infestation’s limbs had crossed half the distance. At the light it stopped short, squealed, and pulled itself back to shelter. Laura forced herself to breathe.
“How long do you think these lights can hold it back?”
Clae was more preoccupied with squinting at the darkness beyond the train, clutching the bag with a white-knuckled grip. He clicked his tongue and looked forward again. “Long enough.”
20
BONE POLISHER
The machine gun rattled to life. The sound was harsh and sudden, and Laura ducked down when the noise reached her ears. The bullets hit with a pinging sound and brief flashes of gold, and the impact actually made dents. Dents that soon smoothed over as the infestation panicked. Amid the onslaught it teetered precariously, dark smoke billowing up from it, and beat a hasty retreat. From her position Laura couldn’t see any more, but the bullets kept going for half a minute more before the noise died with a grinding clack.
“That’s all we’ve got!” the man called.
Clae didn’t reply, vaulting over onto the next car. Laura scrambled after him. The car was empty, save for what was left of the luggage. Laura looked around quickly before pointing at the hole from before.
“There!”
Blackness surged up from the undercarriage with a swirl of arms and high-pitched shrilling. Clae shot at the nearest sections to drive them away and held out the bag.
“Laura, take this!”
Laura took it quickly and almost stumbled. It was as heavy as the Pit Egg.
“The source of the infestation is in that pile!” The only pile untouched, the only one the infestation hadn’t rent apart. “Get right next to it and put your amulet on the Gin. It’ll release a wave of magic. Enough to kill that monster.”
“But won’t that be enough to kill me too?” squeaked Laura.
“It won’t kill you.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because it’ll recognize you as alive! Just go and get the damn thing, and when I say stop, you pull the amulet off immediately, do you hear me?”
What being alive had to do with it Laura couldn’t even begin to guess. Clae started shooting again. He had the infestation’s full attention, and it kept on spinning across the floor, dyeing the boards black in its wake and swirling its arms over his head. Now that it was on the attack and focused, it had left its trail obvious. Laura raced to the luggage pile and threw the bag down next to the line of darkness. She unzipped the case with one sharp jerk and pulled aside the blanket they’d been using as a cushion. But just because its main focus was Clae didn’t mean it couldn’t go in multiple directions. The trail bubbled and out of it came the eye. She was too busy unclipping the amulet from her belt to notice beyond a glimpse of white and red where it shouldn’t be, and that kept her from being paralyzed. But the eye wasn’t the only thing building. More limbs reached out, but these weren’t the sloppy clawed things infestations usually sprouted. These were long, thin, actual human fingers dripping in black and rushing for her head. Hoping desperately that this would work, she set the amulet on the Gin with a loud clack, giving it the only order she could thin
k of: Wake up.
True Gin didn’t have the kitten feeling of Niveus or the loyal-dog feeling of her little amulet. When she felt it stir she felt it hugely, a tremble of power and awareness; like realizing the hill she’d stood on was now an uncoiling dragon. A heavy impression probed her mind.
Wake up.
What?
Wake.
Wake?
Up?
WAKE.
A sensation of understanding hit her so hard she felt as if she’d been physically tackled.
The Gin shimmered, getting brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding, and then came the rush. It was like the dark wave infestations gave out as they died, but this was kin-gold. It surged out in multiple waves, accompanied by a roaring sound. Where it hit her skin Laura got an itchy, prickly feeling, and it filled her nose with the overwhelming scent of vanilla. It made her cough and sneeze. The black arms of the infestation bent backward, shredding and swirling to smoke. The eye winked into hiding quickly, but it couldn’t escape. The trail sparked with light, and within seconds the luggage burst into golden flame. The resulting scream rang in her ears. Popping and snapping issued from the fire, before the scream reached an impossible pitch and black smoke bubbled to mix with it. But the Gin didn’t stop. It kept shining, kept spewing gold and vanilla, and Laura couldn’t breathe.
The gold near her swirled as Clae knelt down next to her. “Remove it! God damn it, I said stop!”
He grabbed her wrist and yanked the amulet away. Immediately the Gin’s luster dimmed, and the gold slowly faded out. The awful sensation left her mind, and Laura sucked in a breath of clean air. Clae let out a rattling sigh, gaze jumping around the ruined car. He didn’t relax.
“What was that?” Laura choked. “Was it magic?”
“In its purest form. It’s good in small doses, but you get too much and it’s overwhelming.”
“I-I couldn’t breathe.”
“That’s the worst Gin can do to people.”
She closed her eyes, held a shaky hand to her head. Breathe. Fresh air was good. “Didn’t you say it wouldn’t hurt me because I’m alive?”
Clae grumbled as he zipped up the Gin bag. “What I meant is that it recognized you as a strain.”
“A what?”
“Strain.” He sounded irritated, rushed. “All living things have magic in them. You can’t access it because it’s a small amount and it tends to focus on you. Nothing else. You see Okane, his people, Magi, have a larger, easily manipulated magic pool, but it stays focused on him. He can’t breathe fire but he can land on his feet. Everyone alive has their own unique magic, and therefore are strains. The Gin saw you were a strain, and didn’t hurt you. Or couldn’t. Either or.”
“I have magic?” she repeated, baffled.
“It tends to keep you alive, yes.” He paused, jerking to face the front as if he’d heard something, and the color drained from his face. “Laura, take the Gin. Get back up to the front car, keep running until you hit the engine.”
“What?”
“Now!”
He pulled her to her feet and shoved the bag into her arms before pushing her toward the door.
“Get down!” came a shout from the next car, and, swearing, Clae heaved her out onto the platform.
“Go!”
Angry and confused, she hopped onto the next platform, but as she did, she caught sight of something glowing. She’d barely made it through the door when the object let out a roar and smashed into the train. The corner of the first cargo car was rent apart as it jumped, its huge spiked body crashing into the damaged car. The wall there gave way and part of the ceiling crashed down. Laura watched in horror as the creature rose above the debris, eyes like blazing coals and multicolored spikes shining along its massive shape. It was a felin, an unholy hybrid of lion and dragon standing twice the height of a horse. It raised its ugly muzzle and opened its jaws, letting out another roar.
“Disconnect!” Clae shouted from out of sight.
Immediately the baggage handler ran over, leaning down on the platform to grab at the couplings connecting the cars. The younger one wailed at some contraption on the wall that looked like a one-way telephone; even as he spoke the train gained speed.
“It’s a straight line for miles,” the man grunted. He tugged at a lever, which failed to work, and cussed as he leaned farther to make a grab for the pin, which he ripped out and dropped; it clattered onto the wooden slats of the tracks and fell behind in the blink of an eye. The couplers groaned but the knuckles stayed, barely, together. “We’ll speed up and leave the beastie behind us!”
Laura stood frozen for a moment before casting the bag aside and jumping back to the other car. The man let out a startled cry but she ignored him. The felin was rooting around in the rubble, floor creaking ominously beneath its weight as it sought its prey. Clae scrambled out from beneath a portion of fallen roof and the felin looked up at the movement, baring its fangs.
“I told you to take the Gin and get out!” Clae snarled.
“And let you get lost in the wilds?”
“It’s after the Gin!”
Oh. Well, shit. Laura took a step back as she asked, “What do we do, then?”
“Get this thing off the train and get out of the area as soon as—” The felin turned to eye Laura; her stomach flip-flopped, and Clae started to shout. “Get out of here, now!”
The felin changed direction at the noise, but before Laura could turn tail, a squeal rang out farther up the train and the engine jolted forward, whizzing down the tracks at breakneck speed. The coupler’s knuckles unfastened completely. The forward car rocketed faster, but was jerked sharply as the safety chains pulled taut with a loud crack. With the resulting lurch everyone lost their balance: the felin toppled with a howl, Laura and Clae sprawled on the debris, and the baggage handler nearly fell off. Clae clambered to his feet again, made a furious gesture for Laura to move, then aimed and shot at the felin. One of the kin bullets hit home in the felin’s eye and burst with a flash of light and spatter of blackish blood. The felin bellowed and thrashed, its spiked tail swooping overhead to smash more of the walls down. Laura ducked and covered her head. With a snarl the felin hauled itself up properly and scrabbled forward. Clae dodged its jaws and rolled to the side, but his movement wasn’t as fast as it should’ve been. Cussing, Laura dug the Bijou and some wire from her bag. The Bijou lit up with a blinding flash and spat angrily, drawing the animal’s attention. Laura blinked back at the door, saw the man gesturing madly, and yelled, “Clae! They’re ready to ditch it! Come on!”
The felin thrust its snout through the sparks of the Bijou, teeth gnashing, and Laura toppled over with a shriek of surprise. The animal kept snapping as she tried to get out of the way, but she found herself moving slower than usual. It took too much energy just to move. She struggled, clawing at the scarred floorboards as panic rose in her chest. The more she floundered the worse she felt, like an awful weight was crushing all the air from her body. She tried to call for help but could only wheeze. A piece of sideboard came crashing down on the felin’s nose, and it jerked back; almost immediately the weight was gone and she could breathe again. Clae threw the wood after it and urged her up once more.
“Bijou?” he hissed. “You thought Bijou would hurt it?”
“It was worth a try!”
The felin shook its head, dislodging wood chunks and sparks before lunging for them again. The pair scuttled back onto the platform, and the baggage handler reached out to help them over.
“Only one more chain,” he explained quickly, “we break that and the car’s lost. We just need to make sure it doesn’t follow us here.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Clae growled.
As the felin rushed the door, he raised his gun and fired again. Two more bullets ricocheted off the animal’s hard face before one sank into its good eye, stopping its charge and resulting in another pained yowl. With that, he turned and fired at the last safety chain. It sna
pped under the strain, and their car began to fall behind. Laura took a running jump and caught the outside rail of the opposite platform. Clae followed shortly, though he had to activate his amulets to cover the growing distance. Gripping the bars one-handed, he turned and aimed his gun at the car behind them. He pulled the trigger, but the gun simply clicked—he was out of bullets. Fortunately the felin was too preoccupied with its lack of sight. It clamored about the ruined car, wailing to high heaven and smashing what little remained of the structure. They could see it illuminated by the flickering of the Bijou, growing more and more distant. With no idea how far or fast a felin could run, Laura didn’t relax for a long while. Eventually Clae tossed his gun into the car and reached out to pat her shoulder.
“Go on. Get up.”
Did that mean they were safe? She exhaled slowly and allowed the man to help her onto the platform. She staggered into the car and only paused once she was past the machine gun. Her hands hurt with how hard she’d clutched the railing, and she had the feeling her bruises wouldn’t be pleasant tomorrow. Clae set his hand on her shoulder again. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was reassuring himself that she was still there.
“Good job,” he breathed. “And … thanks for going back. But if you ever do something that idiotic again I’m going to fire you.”
“I thought you hired me so I could help you,” she grumbled.
“Not if it gets you killed in the process.”
The baggage handler followed them, a relieved grin on his face. “Well done,” he said. “Well done!”
“That was amazing!” said the younger man.
Clae caught his wrist and stared him down. “Don’t think I’m not still going to turn you in.”
“But—”
“Theft is theft and you endangered everyone on this train.” He let go and turned to the other handler, while the younger looked on in shock. “Put that gun back in the crate. There’s nothing special about it without the bullets, but it still needs to go to the Sweepers.”
“Right, we’ll handle it.”
“Good. We’re going back to our compartment.”
City of Broken Magic Page 31
